Master's Journey: Shadow Ascent #1

Author's Notes: New Master's Journey! This one is for Axormin, so clearly I won't be accepting votes from anyone else, but everyone can feel free to check it out anyway!

This is an original setting, bit of a spin-off/re-creation of the original Fuck Yeah Space setting, so there's gonna be a lot of stuff to get used to and get explained over time. Anyway, hoping y'all enjoy!

[story]

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‭You stand at attention, arms behind your back, back straight, head high. No eye contact. This has the chance to be the biggest day of your life, and you’re going to do your absolute best to be a professional. It’s a bit cold for you, here. A bit dry. You’re in a large, semi-circular room, its smooth, pale stone and dark, cold-colored draperies accenting its Nauelli-styled architecture, something you find recognizable, if unfamiliar. The place is uncomfortably clean and uncomfortably quiet, and you find yourself silently contemplating how much more… sterile… military organization can be among the other Crux species.

About three paces to your right is the individual you arrived here with, a gangly kubaasko wearing a black labcoat around its short, slim torso, and a form-fit, off-white bodysuit beneath that, though its overlong arms and legs extending far past it. How those things balance on those hand-like, flat-fingered feet you’ll never understand, but the thing perches beside you as if it has no weight at all. Its face, and the highlights on its feet and hands, are a dark, dull gray, while the rest of it is a vivid, neon orange. One of these days, perhaps, you’ll get used to how… bizarre the kubaasko appear (and behave), though you don’t feel like it will be this day.

You glance away from the alien and towards the massive, chrome desk ahead of you, some ten feet away, and to the two figures behind it. One, you recognize in an instant as Admiral Oudega, a male nauelli with a slight build, cerulean skin, and hair of jet-black. For a male to hold a place of such high command is unusual among the nauelli, you understand, but he is nonetheless the reason you’re here – the person who can give you the opportunity of a lifetime. He is locked in a chain of frenzied whispers with what you assume is either some sort of advisor or personal aid: an android of androgynous build, more feminine than masculine, but wearing a slimming, navy-blue suit, sporting neither hair nor anything analogous to it, their porcelain features mainly expressionless. Whether this is one of the machines that has undergone the Awakening, or one without sentience, you as of yet do not know.

The two mumble to each other for several more long moments, and you read their tones – or at least the admiral’s – as increasingly heated, increasingly annoyed, though you have difficulty making out more than a word here and there, especially since Universal is your second language. They are interrupted, finally, when the door to the chamber hisses open, and a new figure rushes in… though it is very much not the figure anyone here seems to have been expecting.

“Apologies, admiral,” the newcomer says, breathing heavily. She’s q’orrine, one of the emancipated aquatic people, her skin mottled blue and pink and her attire showing her to be not a soldier, but a servant. “I came as quickly as I could. The captain–”

“Off on one of his famous benders, I suppose?” the slim nauelli arches a brow imperiously, his voice carrying a commanding tone that contrasts his small size while belying his high station.

“–Is dead.”

There was silence for a long moment. Far too long. You can see the q’orrine start to get nervous, begin to wonder if she should leave, but she remains resolute. Finally, the android breaks the silence. “That is… highly unfortunate. I don’t suppose you know why?”

“A fight last night, at a local speakeasy. He was celebrating the new position and got rowdy. His opponent drew a blade, and….” The q’orrine shifts from foot to long, flipper-like foot, looking increasing uncomfortable.

“I was half right, then,” Oudega sighs softly. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.” You stiffen slightly as the girl runs off, and the admiral’s attention turns to you – well, you and the kubaasko beside you.

“Sir, may I remind you that funding for the operation has already gone through,” the android gently reminds the admiral, “It may be retracted – or the ire of our Syndicate benefactors earned – if we fail to launch on schedule.”

“What an interesting position this puts me in, then.” Oudega stares harder at you, then at the kubaasko, finally settling his gaze on the latter. “So I need a captain. Looks like one of you is about to get one hell of a quick promotion, doesn’t it? You’re on board for the position of science officer, isn’t that right? Kreaath, was it?”

“Doctor Kreaath-vo-Ka, yes,” the kubaasko trills, the simple, pallid spots of its eyes shuddering as it babbles through a mouthless face, vibrations in its throat forming a bizarre mockery of speech. “This is to be my first assignment on board an exploration vessel – most lack the life-support modifications required for my kind.”

“And you,” Oudega turns to you, piercing, clear green eyes boring into you. “Odd that a zhavvea even offers to join a non-confrontational effort, yet you come highly recommended as a weapons officer… perhaps suspiciously so. Have you served on a vessel like this one before?”

You inhale sharply, head still held high, and answer. “If memory serves, the vessel in question is a modified Ascent-class 138d. They aren’t common in the Vast Court, but I have been given temporary command of similarly mid-sized ships, as well as commanded multiple offensive dogfights using fleets of smaller fighters. My experience with torrential travel is, unfortunately, limited. I will serve to the best of my ability.”

Oudega arches a brow, and takes another step back, glancing between you and Kreaath. Nodding his head subtly toward the android, he asks, “Thoughts, L-Zero?”

“Something to consider is that their original role will require replacement. Corporal Pax is due for promotion, and would likely serve as an excellent weapons officer.”

The admiral is silent for a long moment, lips pursed, fingertips drumming lightly on the desk behind him. His gaze wanders between the two of you, but eventually settles back on you, though what has swayed him remains a mystery. “Very well. I forget your name – tell me, what do I call you? Captain…?”

[ Choose a name for your character. Due to their avian and somewhat barbaric nature, zhavvea tend towards names between 1-2 syllables, often featuring at least a single “a” sound. ]