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Cast of Shadows

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Callista Dalmore:



God, blinded by the greatness of his creation, really fucked up the details.

Callista Dalmore:
“Bishop this is Ice Venture, come in, over.” Crackled the voice from the Hulk-class exhumer that had just jumped in low and away to their starboard.

“We see you Ice Venture, you are cleared for linked protocol, sending access codes now,” answered the young  communication officer on duty.

“We?  Fucking, “we”?  When the hell you get all corporate-mouthed Bish?”

The comms officer swallowed and cleared his throat before selecting to transmit, “Captain Bishop is currently attending to the composition calibrations, sir, and has delegated wing adherence policy to crew.  If you wish to send a message, I can surely insert it into his queue…”

“Naw, naw boy, that’s alright, as long as he gets me my 15% bonus to yield, he can be knee deep in pussy for all I care.  Here’s my ID codes, link me up bitch.”

 The comms officer cut the feed and furrowed his brow.  Ship to ship comms in the academy fleets he’d been in had always been much more…succinct.  He supposed it was yet another adjustment to be made when working with Capsuleers. 

But this wasn’t just anybody; this was John Klark, THE John Klark.   And if he was in system, they were all about to be either very rich or very dead.  It was said he was wrapped in liquid luck, it just happened to be both kinds. 

Hurriedly, the comm officer stabbed his fingers at his console, no need to drag this out any longer than it had to.  He validated the transmission gate and launched the sync process.  Above him, on the main holo, the four minuscule mining ships hovered at their current relative coordinates around the massive central Orca-class industrial ship.  A blue aura overlay enveloped the Orca and the four other, already linked, ships.

Subsystem readouts on the newly arrived ship flickered from dull red to cool blue as the Orca's link module software agents took up advisory positions in the Hulk.  As they locked into place, each of the subsystem technical commanders, began running their teams through the synch diagnostics routines.  Calls when down through the chain of command and readiness signals were sent back up.  As each completed their checks, flags were set to passed and the light blue glow enveloping the five other ships slowly extended towards the Ice Venture.  When the sensor suite finally sync'd and the Hulk was completely surrounded by the blue aura, the senior gang link command engineer began receiving verbal confirmations from each of the technical commanders.  When done, he stood and walked into the middle of the holo, thus accessing the command queue.

“Captain, this is gang link control, Ice Venture has sync'd and is ready to enter link mode, proceed?”

A moment passed and then in silver three-dimensional floaty-text, there appeared the words, “Yeah, let the bastard in.”

Callista Dalmore:
“He’s singing, Sir,” replied the comms officer, not exactly sure what the protocol was in this situation.

“He’s singing?” repeated  the captain.

“Singing, yes Sir. For approximately three hours now, Sir.”

“And we’ve sent all disconnect codes, termination handshakes and final telemetry?”

“Yes, sir, it has been thirty minutes since the Ice Venture has transferred it’s last ice blocks to our hold and received end of operation transmissions.  We still have not received proper acknowledgement.

The captain turned slightly in his seat, and rubbed his eyes wearily, not only were they in disputed territory but the local system channels indicated three new vessels, apparently all flying for Marmite Collective.  War declarations had not been fully processed but those thugs rarely let bureaucratic procedure get in their way.

“Put me through, ship-to-ship proximity comms only.”

“Yes sir.” The comms officer entered the appropriate codes.

“John? John?  We have plus three in local, we have to get going, over.”

He was greeted by a deep bass voice in full crescendo, if slightly slurred in parts:

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of shteel;
“As ye deal with My condemnersh, so with you My grace shall deal”;


“John?” the captain tried to cut in.


Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.

“God dammit John we’re going to leave your drunk ass here, if you don’t acknowledge!”


Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on!
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat…

The captain cut the channel, “Fuck him, prepare whole fleet jump.  Initiate warp to anomaly last known coordinates on my mark.”


“Yes sir, immediately, sir.”


As all ships had already aligned, almost immediately Aura’s voice was heard throughout the decks:

“Warp drive, active”.

NightCrawler 85:

*He was greeted by a deep bass voice in full crescendo, if slightly slurred in parts:

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of shteel;
“As ye deal with My condemnersh, so with you My grace shall deal”;


“John?” the captain tried to cut in.


Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.

“God dammit John we’re going to leave your drunk ass here, if you don’t acknowledge!”*

This! Omg you captured him perfectly lol.

And phone does not like trying to quote posts. .

Tabernack en Chasteaux:
Mining Foreman of my heart <3

(no hemo)

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