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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jeph" data-source="post: 1477864" data-attributes="member: 6738">Kaleb is piloting the Fortune away from Epsilon Orbital. Clunking sounds; he looks behind him. Commander Conners has entered the pod.(Conners) (Amusement) So you're a kinetic. (Kaleb) And a molder, you may have noticed. [1](Conners) And then some. Those are rare.(Kaleb) Not so rare among Exemplar.(Conners) Is anything? (New focus) I talked to Remey.(Kaleb) (...) (?)(Conners) She gave me a list of known Exemplar aboard the Purity. 100 Templars, two Navigators, and an Infiltrator.(Kaleb) What was an Infiltrator doing there?(Conners) Don't know. If you find him, make sure the IGAC crew don't notice.(Kaleb) Right. You should talk to Smith. He's had a... run-in... with the Infiltrators, before. [2](Conners) (Assent) I'll leave you to your piloting.A few moments of silence. The Fortune safely disengages Orbital and is out into free space. Course is adjusted towards the Purity. Telemetry flashes between various bits of IGAC Approved Radio Machinery until the lag grows too long, at which point the psicasters pick up where their lesser cousins left off. [3] For lack of more amusing pastimes, Kaleb watches the radar.Blip.Blip.Blip.Bloop.Oh, <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />.::Smith, by virtue of proximity, has been stuffed into a gun emplacement. The azimuth turret, in fact--by no mean his favorite haunt during a dogfight. He hopes Kaleb can kick their asses before they get too close. Kaleb's good at that sort of thing. No sweat.Smith spends a few moments getting used to the controls. He accidentally fires a missile. Oops. Samuels asks him what the <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> he's trying to do. Slipped, sir. Well don't slip again, the Black Scorpion Crew is a tight bunch. Yes sir. Funny, they're usually amicable to IGAC ships. Yes, sir. You have nerves, citizen? Whatever you say, sir. I'll leave you to your gunning, then. Yes, sir.He checks his radar. Three red three red thingies and one green thingy. A flash of light from the portal and then there're only two red thingies. Way to go, Kal, except now the other two are headed my way. Smith follows one of the pirate interceptors with his sights and looses a few potshots but they go wide. The fighters disappear from plain view--they must have gone under the ship.Smith continues to watch on his radar. He hears torpedoes being fired from somewhere else in the ship and one of the red dots makes an abrupt course shift but keeps flying. The green dot is herding the other red dot away from the ship...They're in view again. Kaleb is tight on that pirate's tail. Smith sights, gets a missile lock, fires. Flames. The Fortune rocks a bit from the shockwave.Smith watches Kaleb peel away and go after the last interceptor, which is attempting a breakaway. Kaleb's dogging him hard, too close for comfort for all but the best of pilots. The Scorpion fighter attempts some fancy maneuver but Kaleb stays on and then it looks like the two ships are almost going to touch each other, the pirate tries a barrel roll----and his engine block explodes for no apparent reason.Oh yeah. Kaleb's got psi.::"Exemplar Stai, Shelby, Williams, Cole, you are assigned to the away team. Soldier Group A, as are you. Citizen Smith acts as official observer. Citizen Kaleb pilots, should the Purity be resurrected. Scanners show life support is down. You'll be wearing full suits. Execute."Beat a tattoo to the airlock. Tramp through the umbilical. Set a few charges (Weren't there more? Must have miscounted) and the team is in.Sixteen white plastic full body space suits float into a cavernous hangar bay. Gravitics, like life support, is apparently not operational. Kaleb looks around. There are corpses everywhere. A handful are tethered to working belts, bobbing in the slight draft from auto-fans. At least a dozen more float free. Deathly pale faces can be seen through the portals of some of the docked interceptors and shuttles.Kaleb rebounds of the ceiling, shoots towards a transport that Smith and a solder have entered. He climbs in too. The soldier is scraping a thin, bluish film off of a corpse's exposed forearm and carefully sealing samples away in airtight plastic tubes. Smith snags one and pockets it.Headsets crackle. "Conners speaking. Your search plan is as follows: Smith, Cole, and Group A are to make their way to the bridge and attempt to regain control of the helm. Stai, Shelby, Williams, Kaleb: you're to head towards engineering. See if the problem is rooted there."A chorus of Yes Sirs and Hais."Conners again. Smith, we're on a secure line. In a few minute's we'll be starting the coup. You think you can take on your contingent?""Head to head? No sir.""Be subtle, then.""It's what I'm best at.""Right. Keep me posted. Conners out."Smith and the soldier pull themselves to the transport's hatch using handholds and then kick off, landing in a spacer's crouch on the ceiling of Corridor 1A--direct line to the bridge. Cole and the rest of Group A drift in over the next few seconds. Magnetic boots are activated and they troop off.Smith sees Cole's head jerk sharply. Following the motion with his eyes, he sees a bluish sheet of gauze flicker through an access tube. Perfect opportunity. He whispers Cole's numerical secure line code."Cole.""Listening.""Did you see that?""I think so.""I'm going to take Monitov and Tank to check it out.""Granted, Observer. Meet us at the bridge.""Acknowledged and out."He alerts the two soldiers over the public line and the three deactivate their clamps and push off. Smith makes sure that his companions go first. When Tank looks back, after they've emerged into corridor 7B, Smith's nowhere in sight.And then his space suit and chest have been pierced by a hollow nosed shell. A punctured lung labors to draw oxygen from poisonous air. His corpse drifts into Monotov's with a muffled clunk amidst a fine spray of red droplets."Smith here. Something's up. It's got Tank and Monotov. It's--oh, <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />."Because that's when Smith realizes that he's not lying. At least half a dozen shimmering sheets of bluish gauze flash through the air in the blink of an eye to suckle at the holes in the space suits of the two soldiers. One, not finding an opening, twists in midair and begins to drift towards Smith, its movement almost lazy.Smith puts three bullets into it before he has time to think. The recoil sends him spinning a dozen yards and almost breaks his arm. [4] On the upshot, the gauze ruptures and dissipates."Smith, this is Cole. Are you all right?""Barely. I'm on my way."::[1] By molder, he means that he has the power to shape matter without exerting any actual force. Normally this power is relegated to the user's physical touch. However, it is particularly synergetic with telekinesis: anything that the Exemplar touches telekinetically may be considered to be touched physically for the purposes of Molding.[2] Quite a bit more than a run-in: Smith used to be an Infiltrator, or member of a rather shadowy guild of psychic assasins. He's (as far as he knows) the only man ever to leave that particular Order alive.[3] Most communications in the world of Exemplar take place over radio. However, interplanetary and intergalactic distances can make this impractical, due to the slowness of light. Psicasters solve this problem quite conveniently, not being bound by the laws of energy. However, they are rather bulky and require a great deal of power to function.[4] Remember, kids: when in zero gravity, use your microwave pistols.--Jeff</blockquote>

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