The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - WW LXXVII: The Metamorphs of Wolf-562-e

Nerwen · 06-12-2010, 09:08 PM

The Plot Thickens

Day and night have no true meaning in space, but on a starship there is a period when the lights are dimmed, when most of the crew sleep– except the few who must remain on duty during the “Night” period.

Security Officer Eomer was one of these, but toNight he was less concerned with his official work than with what he believed was his true calling.

Eomer thought of himself as a hunter.

Once, he had seen it as just a way to supplement his income, but as his skills had grown, so had his love of the chase for its own sake– as had his pride. True, he had earned some respect for his service in the Fleet, but under the name he used in his secret trade he was almost a legend, spoken of with awe as “the best in the business”.

Cautiously, he looked around the corner at a door halfway down the next corridor. There was no sign of movement, and the only sound was the usual faint background hum of a functioning ship, just as it had been during the two hours he had already spent lying in wait. Eomer was just about to resign himself to another long period of waiting, when he became aware of a faint noise on the other side of the door. He tensed himself, raising his gun, as the door slid open.

His finger froze on the trigger. The figure who appeared in the doorway was the right height and build to be the one he was after, but he had certainly not expected it to be wearing a mask, or to be clothed from head to foot in black.

Eomer shrugged briefly and then fired, a direct hit to the head. The frequency of the energy bolt would have been instantly fatal to the type of being he had thought he was hunting, but the masked figure merely swayed a moment and shook its head as if to clear it. Then it darted across the corridor, out of his line of sight. The hunter could hear it softly edging along the near wall towards him.

Eomer made a quick decision and ran for it. Whatever he was dealing with, it was not his particular quarry after all, and he didn’t care for the look of it either.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Assassin reached the corner and peered around, his dart-gun held at the ready, but the corridor was empty. He was very surprised.
Someone taking shots at him? It was supposed to be the other way around. And why attack him with an obviously harmless weapon?

“You can wait, whoever you are,” he whispered. “I've got bigger fish to fry..."

He was sure he knew the identity of at least one Metamorph.

As he crept down the darkened passages he smiled to himself behind his mask. The Telepath would be avenged this Night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eomer skidded to a halt just in time to avoid crashing into Lieutenant Sally.

“Sorry, ma’am,” gasped Eomer, wondering why the Lieutenant was wearing her EVA suit.

“Eomer!” said the navigator with a delighted grin. “Just the person I was looking for! I’d like you to meet my friends.”

Two other figures, also wearing spacesuits, stepped out of the shadows behind Eomer. Before the Security Officer could react, one of them grabbed him and twisted the gun from his grasp. “Hey, that’s not Galactic Fleet issue! So, it’s true, you’re a bounty hunter! We don’t need their scum! We'd like to take the chance to get rid of this treacherous pest that goes by the name of Eomer before it can do any harm to our beloved crew. They'll thank us!”

“Shh!” said Sally. “I was going for 'sinister joviality', and now you’ve spoiled it! –Eomer, we saw how upset you were at poor dear Ensign Guardian's very affecting funeral, and we thought you’d want to be reunited with her.”

“What, now?”

“Now!” said the Lieutenant, pulling down her helmet visor.

A hand was clapped over the Security Officer’s mouth. Struggle as he might, he was unable to break free from the Metamorphs as they marched him to the airlock from which, a few hours previously, Blind Guardian’s pitiful corpse had been committed to the interstellar depths.

Unfortunately, Eomer was not wearing a spacesuit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Assassin found the one he sought sitting outside a cabin door– clearly waiting for her comrades.

Coward, the Assassin thought, too afraid to kill a sleeping person on your own! Take that!

He fired his dart–gun. The mechanism was completely silent– but his target had glimpsed the movement. With a speed and grace that seemed inhuman, she rolled out of the way, coming to her feet in a fighting stance. The dart stuck in the door, quivering.

Cursing, the Assassin fired again.

“You’ll never get past me, Metamorph!” the other hissed. “I was trained in the sacred martial arts of Mu Arae b, and– what the–?” She stared down at the dart sticking out of her arm. “Hey, this looks like Intel make! –Oh no!” she groaned. “I get it. You’re the bloody Assassin, aren’t you?”

“The Defender?” asked the Assassin, feeling very foolish all of a sudden.

“Yep, that’s me.” The Defender touched her head, remembering the awful fate of Ensign Guardian, but of course nothing happened.

“I’ll be darned.”

They both started to laugh.

“What in Space is going on out there?” called a sleepy voice from within the cabin.

The two agents glanced at each other, and took to their heels, in opposite directions.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lieutenant Sally was in a hurry. Her cover role forced her to spend some hours this Night plotting the ship’s course, and the diversion, though pleasant in itself, had put her fearfully behind schedule.

“Out of my way!” she ordered the figure who had just stepped out of a side corridor.

“Oh, no, Lieutenant, I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” said the other.

A chill ran down Sally’s spine. She wished she had waited for her fellow Metamorphs to accompany her.

“So you’re this Assassin-person, are you?” she said, deciding to brazen it out. “And I suppose you’ve somehow got it into your head that I’m a Metamorph? Well, then, fire away– your little darts won’t do me any harm.”

“Darts?" said the figure. “What’s the fun of that?” And it ripped Sally’s arm from its socket.

That was just the beginning.

Sally’s dying screams brought people running, but by the time they arrived on the scene, the navigator could be identified only by the bloody scraps of her uniform. All that remained of her body was a heap of mangled flesh.

And that flesh was changing. Skin turned rough and scaly; fat and muscle took on a strange gelatinous texture; even her blood paled from red to a sickly yellow-white hue.

“A Metamorph!” someone gasped. “But– but who or what killed her?”

[NB. Pronouns used in the narration do not necessarily reflect player's actual gender.]

The Crew

Living
Commander Inziladun –First Officer.
Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer.
Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter.
Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer.
Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster.
Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class.
Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class.
Shasta –Engineering Technician.
wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician.
Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway).

Dead
Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One.
Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath).
Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter).
Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is now Day Two. You may post.

06-12-2010, 09:08 PM	#115
Nerwen Wisest of the Noldor Join Date: Oct 2007 Location: ˙˙˙ssɐןƃ ƃuıʞooן ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ Posts: 6,694	The Plot Thickens Day and night have no true meaning in space, but on a starship there is a period when the lights are dimmed, when most of the crew sleep– except the few who must remain on duty during the “Night” period. Security Officer Eomer was one of these, but toNight he was less concerned with his official work than with what he believed was his true calling. Eomer thought of himself as a hunter. Once, he had seen it as just a way to supplement his income, but as his skills had grown, so had his love of the chase for its own sake– as had his pride. True, he had earned some respect for his service in the Fleet, but under the name he used in his secret trade he was almost a legend, spoken of with awe as “the best in the business”. Cautiously, he looked around the corner at a door halfway down the next corridor. There was no sign of movement, and the only sound was the usual faint background hum of a functioning ship, just as it had been during the two hours he had already spent lying in wait. Eomer was just about to resign himself to another long period of waiting, when he became aware of a faint noise on the other side of the door. He tensed himself, raising his gun, as the door slid open. His finger froze on the trigger. The figure who appeared in the doorway was the right height and build to be the one he was after, but he had certainly not expected it to be wearing a mask, or to be clothed from head to foot in black. Eomer shrugged briefly and then fired, a direct hit to the head. The frequency of the energy bolt would have been instantly fatal to the type of being he had thought he was hunting, but the masked figure merely swayed a moment and shook its head as if to clear it. Then it darted across the corridor, out of his line of sight. The hunter could hear it softly edging along the near wall towards him. Eomer made a quick decision and ran for it. Whatever he was dealing with, it was not his particular quarry after all, and he didn’t care for the look of it either. ~~~~~~~~~~* The Assassin reached the corner and peered around, his dart-gun held at the ready, but the corridor was empty. He was very surprised. Someone taking shots at him? It was supposed to be the other way around. And why attack him with an obviously harmless weapon? “You can wait, whoever you are,” he whispered. “I've got bigger fish to fry..." He was sure he knew the identity of at least one Metamorph. As he crept down the darkened passages he smiled to himself behind his mask. The Telepath would be avenged this Night. ~~~~~~~~~~* Eomer skidded to a halt just in time to avoid crashing into Lieutenant Sally. “Sorry, ma’am,” gasped Eomer, wondering why the Lieutenant was wearing her EVA suit. “Eomer!” said the navigator with a delighted grin. “Just the person I was looking for! I’d like you to meet my friends.” Two other figures, also wearing spacesuits, stepped out of the shadows behind Eomer. Before the Security Officer could react, one of them grabbed him and twisted the gun from his grasp. “Hey, that’s not Galactic Fleet issue! So, it’s true, you’re a bounty hunter! We don’t need their scum! We'd like to take the chance to get rid of this treacherous pest that goes by the name of Eomer before it can do any harm to our beloved crew. They'll thank us!” “Shh!” said Sally. “I was going for 'sinister joviality', and now you’ve spoiled it! –Eomer, we saw how upset you were at poor dear Ensign Guardian's very affecting funeral, and we thought you’d want to be reunited with her.” “What, now?” “Now!” said the Lieutenant, pulling down her helmet visor. A hand was clapped over the Security Officer’s mouth. Struggle as he might, he was unable to break free from the Metamorphs as they marched him to the airlock from which, a few hours previously, Blind Guardian’s pitiful corpse had been committed to the interstellar depths. Unfortunately, Eomer was not wearing a spacesuit. ~~~~~~~~~~* The Assassin found the one he sought sitting outside a cabin door– clearly waiting for her comrades. Coward, the Assassin thought, too afraid to kill a sleeping person on your own! Take that! He fired his dart–gun. The mechanism was completely silent– but his target had glimpsed the movement. With a speed and grace that seemed inhuman, she rolled out of the way, coming to her feet in a fighting stance. The dart stuck in the door, quivering. Cursing, the Assassin fired again. “You’ll never get past me, Metamorph!” the other hissed. “I was trained in the sacred martial arts of Mu Arae b, and– what the–?” She stared down at the dart sticking out of her arm. “Hey, this looks like Intel make! –Oh no!” she groaned. “I get it. You’re the bloody Assassin, aren’t you?” “The Defender?” asked the Assassin, feeling very foolish all of a sudden. “Yep, that’s me.” The Defender touched her head, remembering the awful fate of Ensign Guardian, but of course nothing happened. “I’ll be darned.” They both started to laugh. “What in Space is going on out there?” called a sleepy voice from within the cabin. The two agents glanced at each other, and took to their heels, in opposite directions. ~~~~~~~~~~* Lieutenant Sally was in a hurry. Her cover role forced her to spend some hours this Night plotting the ship’s course, and the diversion, though pleasant in itself, had put her fearfully behind schedule. “Out of my way!” she ordered the figure who had just stepped out of a side corridor. “Oh, no, Lieutenant, I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” said the other. A chill ran down Sally’s spine. She wished she had waited for her fellow Metamorphs to accompany her. “So you’re this Assassin-person, are you?” she said, deciding to brazen it out. “And I suppose you’ve somehow got it into your head that I’m a Metamorph? Well, then, fire away– your little darts won’t do me any harm.” “Darts?" said the figure. “What’s the fun of that?” And it ripped Sally’s arm from its socket. That was just the beginning. Sally’s dying screams brought people running, but by the time they arrived on the scene, the navigator could be identified only by the bloody scraps of her uniform. All that remained of her body was a heap of mangled flesh. And that flesh was changing. Skin turned rough and scaly; fat and muscle took on a strange gelatinous texture; even her blood paled from red to a sickly yellow-white hue. “A Metamorph!” someone gasped. “But– but who or what killed her?” [NB. Pronouns used in the narration do not necessarily reflect player's actual gender.] The Crew Living Commander Inziladun –First Officer. Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer. Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter. Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer. Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster. Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class. Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class. Shasta –Engineering Technician. wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician. Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway). Dead Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One. Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath). Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter). Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph). ~~~~~~~~~~* It is now Day Two. You may post. __________________ "Even Nerwen wasn't evil in the beginning." –Elmo. Last edited by Nerwen; 06-13-2010 at 12:05 PM. Reason: formatting.