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[Spaceship Zero] Q-Ship (actually updated 19 May 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 1110123" data-attributes="member: 6294"><p><strong>"Blast Off!" - Part 1</strong></p><p></p><p>We float in space, looking down on the serene blue and green orb that is Earth.</p><p></p><p>A roar assaults our senses, and a silver rocket ship blasts its way toward us, then shoots by overhead, streaming a long trail of smoke and flame. From out of the chaos emerge the familiar outline of letters:</p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms'"><span style="color: red"><span style="font-size: 26px"><strong><em> Q-Ship! </em></strong></span></span></span></p><p></p><p>Music rises as we sweep through a slow montage of the heroes of our tale: Captain John Fury is first, staring out across the void of space, a noble look of dedication on his face. Then Princess S'Ondra; her bosom heaving majestically as she stabs with her infamous Venusian Heat Lance.</p><p></p><p>Doctor Gustav is third, lecturing us silently as he waves a wrench with his left hand. His startlingly bushy white eyebrows bounce up and down in time with his unheard words.</p><p></p><p>And then the expanse of space again, and the quick written credit for the voice of Archie, before our view spirals through one-hundred and eighty degrees, coming to rest on the rocky grey face of the moon.</p><p></p><p>A sudden plummet, and we are sweeping down toward the craters and dust plains of the moon's surface. Then something glints ahead, like a gleam of glass in the sun, and we see the dome of Mission City, the great capital of the United Earth Government.</p><p></p><p>Air-cars zip across the inner expanse of the dome, while hundreds of tiny pedestrians can be seen moving on the great aerial travel-ways of the city, hurrying on unknown errands from one gleaming skyscraper to the next.</p><p></p><p>We plunge past all this, however, and down further, to the very base of the skyscrapers, and amidst the small, private buildings that nestle between them. One in particular seems to have caught our interest, and we drop right into the back yard; a pleasant space of green and healthy plants. In the middle of the garden a young woman leaps and spins, what looks like a metal spear spinning in her hands.</p><p></p><p>But it is not the young woman we are here to see. Not yet, at least. We move on, into the house: into the cool white surrounds of a laboratory.</p><p></p><p>Doctor Alois Gustav stands with his back to us, writing mathematical symbols on an antique blackboard. His hand moves with dizzying speed, slashing out formulae with an almost superhuman intensity, while the good Doctor mutters constantly under his breath, absently pushing up his spectacles with his spare hand as he does so.</p><p></p><p>Beside the Doctor is a plastic tube, which runs straight up into the ceiling. The tube opens into a basin, just to the Doctor's left. It is at this very moment, just as we arrive, that the tube shudders, and a foot-long metal canister shoots out of the end, rattling to a stop within the confines of the basin.</p><p></p><p>The Doctor barely seems to register this sudden burst of activity. Indeed, he never stops writing as he calls over his shoulder in a distracted tone.</p><p></p><p>"Archie! Mail!"</p><p></p><p>The door of the laboratory opens, and a black and chrome robot trundles into the room, lights flashing in a slow and even sequence within the clear plastic dome of its cranial unit. Then it spies Gustav's work on the blackboard, and the lights flash erratically, in sudden agitation.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Doctor!</span></span>" the voice is mechanical and slightly tinny, as the robot smoothly advances across the room, "<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">How many times must I tell you not to use the blackboard? The chalk dust is <em>most</em> unsanitary. Please stand back, I must cleanse this area.</span></span>"</p><p></p><p>The robot's arms swivel, the articulated hands giving way to gaping black nozzles, each of which exudes a small lick of flame.</p><p></p><p>"Not now, Archie." The good Doctor seems oblivious to this ominous development, "I'm close to ze breakthrough, here, and I cannot be disturbed by ze mail. Zerefore you must be reading it, instead."</p><p></p><p>Archie does not move for a moment, the twin nozzles still pointed at the blackboard and its offending chalk dust. Then the weapons slide back with a reluctant whine of machinery, and the robot reaches over to grasp the metal communications tube. Clearly stencilled on the side of the tube can be seen three words:</p><p></p><p>UEG Official Communication</p><p></p><p>Archie twists the cap of the tube, which opens with a slight hiss of pressurised air. Slowly, the robot removes a rolled up piece of paper from the container. The pincer-like metal hands hold the paper gently, even gingerly, as if afraid to touch the material any more than they need to.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the name printed on the message, Archie speaks.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">It's for you.</span></span>"</p><p></p><p>"Of course it is. It came in ze private mail hopper." The Doctor completes a formula with a flourish, making a happy grunt as he does so. "Now please be so good as to read ze message to me."</p><p></p><p>The robot's shoulders lack the necessary articulation to shrug, but the flash of its cranial lights is clearly resigned as it intones the text of the message:</p><p></p><p></p><p>"<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">From: Space Force Command</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">To: Doctor Alois Gustav.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Confidential. Most Urgent.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Doctor Gustav,</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Space Force hereby confirms the provisional launch window has received final approval. Operation Q-Ship is confirmed for launch at 0800 tomorrow. There will be a team briefing at 1600 this afternoon, with a Press session at 1800 hours. Formal attire is required for the Press conference.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Signed: Commander Simon Ivanov</span></span>"</p><p></p><p></p><p>The Doctor purses his lips,</p><p></p><p>"Today? Did ve know that ze briefing vas today?"</p><p></p><p>"<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Yes, Doctor.</span></span>" The robot's tone is just that little bit <em>too</em> patient. "<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">I placed the entry in your calendar myself. It is currently 1430 hours. This means you have one hour and thirty minutes to be ready for the briefing. I note that the message specifies formal attire. This means you will require matching socks.</span></span>"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, of course." The Doctor frowns, "Do ve haf zese things?"</p><p></p><p>"<span style="font-family: 'courier new'"><span style="color: limegreen">Yes, Doctor. I took the liberty of preparing some earlier.</span></span>" Archie removes a pair of socks from his chest storage unit. Each sock has been individually sealed in a plastic sleeve.</p><p></p><p>"Vunderful!" Gustav takes the socks and absentmindedly slips them into his lab coat pocket. "Leibchen!" he raises his voice to call out into the back yard, "Oh Leibchen!"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, Doctor?" the young woman with the spear enters the room. Her skin is ever so slightly flushed from her exertion, while her bosom - and what an impressive bosom it is - is speckled with the faintest dew of perspiration.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, Leibchen." Gustav beams at his adopted daughter, "Ve haf just had ze vunderful news zat ze mission is approved." He passes her the message, which the girl scan quickly, "Ve must get ready to go to ze mission briefing, so zat we can meet ze udder member of our team."</p><p></p><p>And we cut to -</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Capellan, post: 1110123, member: 6294"] [b]"Blast Off!" - Part 1[/b] We float in space, looking down on the serene blue and green orb that is Earth. A roar assaults our senses, and a silver rocket ship blasts its way toward us, then shoots by overhead, streaming a long trail of smoke and flame. From out of the chaos emerge the familiar outline of letters: [FONT=comic sans ms][color=red][size=24][b][i] Q-Ship! [/i][/b][/size][/color][/font] Music rises as we sweep through a slow montage of the heroes of our tale: Captain John Fury is first, staring out across the void of space, a noble look of dedication on his face. Then Princess S'Ondra; her bosom heaving majestically as she stabs with her infamous Venusian Heat Lance. Doctor Gustav is third, lecturing us silently as he waves a wrench with his left hand. His startlingly bushy white eyebrows bounce up and down in time with his unheard words. And then the expanse of space again, and the quick written credit for the voice of Archie, before our view spirals through one-hundred and eighty degrees, coming to rest on the rocky grey face of the moon. A sudden plummet, and we are sweeping down toward the craters and dust plains of the moon's surface. Then something glints ahead, like a gleam of glass in the sun, and we see the dome of Mission City, the great capital of the United Earth Government. Air-cars zip across the inner expanse of the dome, while hundreds of tiny pedestrians can be seen moving on the great aerial travel-ways of the city, hurrying on unknown errands from one gleaming skyscraper to the next. We plunge past all this, however, and down further, to the very base of the skyscrapers, and amidst the small, private buildings that nestle between them. One in particular seems to have caught our interest, and we drop right into the back yard; a pleasant space of green and healthy plants. In the middle of the garden a young woman leaps and spins, what looks like a metal spear spinning in her hands. But it is not the young woman we are here to see. Not yet, at least. We move on, into the house: into the cool white surrounds of a laboratory. Doctor Alois Gustav stands with his back to us, writing mathematical symbols on an antique blackboard. His hand moves with dizzying speed, slashing out formulae with an almost superhuman intensity, while the good Doctor mutters constantly under his breath, absently pushing up his spectacles with his spare hand as he does so. Beside the Doctor is a plastic tube, which runs straight up into the ceiling. The tube opens into a basin, just to the Doctor's left. It is at this very moment, just as we arrive, that the tube shudders, and a foot-long metal canister shoots out of the end, rattling to a stop within the confines of the basin. The Doctor barely seems to register this sudden burst of activity. Indeed, he never stops writing as he calls over his shoulder in a distracted tone. "Archie! Mail!" The door of the laboratory opens, and a black and chrome robot trundles into the room, lights flashing in a slow and even sequence within the clear plastic dome of its cranial unit. Then it spies Gustav's work on the blackboard, and the lights flash erratically, in sudden agitation. "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]Doctor![/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" the voice is mechanical and slightly tinny, as the robot smoothly advances across the room, "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]How many times must I tell you not to use the blackboard? The chalk dust is [I]most[/I] unsanitary. Please stand back, I must cleanse this area.[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" The robot's arms swivel, the articulated hands giving way to gaping black nozzles, each of which exudes a small lick of flame. "Not now, Archie." The good Doctor seems oblivious to this ominous development, "I'm close to ze breakthrough, here, and I cannot be disturbed by ze mail. Zerefore you must be reading it, instead." Archie does not move for a moment, the twin nozzles still pointed at the blackboard and its offending chalk dust. Then the weapons slide back with a reluctant whine of machinery, and the robot reaches over to grasp the metal communications tube. Clearly stencilled on the side of the tube can be seen three words: UEG Official Communication Archie twists the cap of the tube, which opens with a slight hiss of pressurised air. Slowly, the robot removes a rolled up piece of paper from the container. The pincer-like metal hands hold the paper gently, even gingerly, as if afraid to touch the material any more than they need to. Seeing the name printed on the message, Archie speaks. "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]It's for you.[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" "Of course it is. It came in ze private mail hopper." The Doctor completes a formula with a flourish, making a happy grunt as he does so. "Now please be so good as to read ze message to me." The robot's shoulders lack the necessary articulation to shrug, but the flash of its cranial lights is clearly resigned as it intones the text of the message: "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]From: Space Force Command To: Doctor Alois Gustav. Confidential. Most Urgent. Doctor Gustav, Space Force hereby confirms the provisional launch window has received final approval. Operation Q-Ship is confirmed for launch at 0800 tomorrow. There will be a team briefing at 1600 this afternoon, with a Press session at 1800 hours. Formal attire is required for the Press conference. Signed: Commander Simon Ivanov[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" The Doctor purses his lips, "Today? Did ve know that ze briefing vas today?" "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]Yes, Doctor.[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" The robot's tone is just that little bit [I]too[/I] patient. "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]I placed the entry in your calendar myself. It is currently 1430 hours. This means you have one hour and thirty minutes to be ready for the briefing. I note that the message specifies formal attire. This means you will require matching socks.[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" "Yes, of course." The Doctor frowns, "Do ve haf zese things?" "[FONT=courier new][color=limegreen]Yes, Doctor. I took the liberty of preparing some earlier.[/color][/font][color=limegreen][/color]" Archie removes a pair of socks from his chest storage unit. Each sock has been individually sealed in a plastic sleeve. "Vunderful!" Gustav takes the socks and absentmindedly slips them into his lab coat pocket. "Leibchen!" he raises his voice to call out into the back yard, "Oh Leibchen!" "Yes, Doctor?" the young woman with the spear enters the room. Her skin is ever so slightly flushed from her exertion, while her bosom - and what an impressive bosom it is - is speckled with the faintest dew of perspiration. "Ah, Leibchen." Gustav beams at his adopted daughter, "Ve haf just had ze vunderful news zat ze mission is approved." He passes her the message, which the girl scan quickly, "Ve must get ready to go to ze mission briefing, so zat we can meet ze udder member of our team." And we cut to - [/QUOTE]
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