[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Unjust Deserts (Open)
Oct 16, 2018 23:36:34 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 16, 2018 23:36:34 GMT -5
[Week three, Day one]
[20 kilometers south west of Eureka, Nevada.]
After five years of drifting in space with only tiny course corrections, the escape pod finally smashed into earth’s atmosphere in much the same way any space rock would. By setting the atmosphere on fire with frictional heating.
Ablative Armour protected the pod as velocity was transformed into heat. As each kilometer of atmosphere was eaten up, the pod slowed down until it was merely travelling at terminal velocity. While there was still plenty of distance from the inevitable conclusion to the journey, automatic systems sent out an S.O.S signal. The message was simple in nature – "This is an Autobot escape pod needing help, here are my coordinates". The encryption was far more complex but still five years outdated. There was a chance that undesirable parties could decipher the message and arrive uninvited.
The pod continued its fall until it was approximately ten kilometers above fast approaching ground. At about this time retro boosters started firing to slow the descent, or at least tried. They had suffered the same damage as the main booster when the pod escaped the Ark into a cross fire zone. The retro boosters spluttered, causing the pod to begin tumbling. Guidance boosters tried to counter the impending tumble which only fueled the original problem.
The lone occupant who endured this expedition was stoically terrified. Rail by name, was close friends with Fear and his associates and had felt absolutely zero need to voice his feelings about their descent. He’d had five years to prepare after all. Inside, red warning lights brighter than Rail’s equally red optics flared away unhindered. There was absolutely nothing he could but ride out the dangerous fast and erratic decent of his probable coffin.
One more red light began flashing away and this one did get heeded. It warned of an impeding energon detonation in the booster fuel lines. Rail popped the topside hatch. If the pod and he survived the landing, he was going to exit very fast. With the certainty of narrative imperative, the escape pod landed with a hellish crash, smashing Rail against the safety harness. With the well honed survival reflexes of the long lived, Rail’s instincts took control of his chassis, got him diving out through the hatch-way and running for dear life. He made it twenty paces when his home of five years wiped itself from existence in a ferro-crete shattering explosion, throwing Rail to the sandy desert floor like paper in the wind.
Rail slumped on the ground, and began rebooting his systems one by one as his self-diagnostics had simply given up. He silently thanked his makers for designing him with six star rated crash safety armor.
[20 kilometers south west of Eureka, Nevada.]
After five years of drifting in space with only tiny course corrections, the escape pod finally smashed into earth’s atmosphere in much the same way any space rock would. By setting the atmosphere on fire with frictional heating.
Ablative Armour protected the pod as velocity was transformed into heat. As each kilometer of atmosphere was eaten up, the pod slowed down until it was merely travelling at terminal velocity. While there was still plenty of distance from the inevitable conclusion to the journey, automatic systems sent out an S.O.S signal. The message was simple in nature – "This is an Autobot escape pod needing help, here are my coordinates". The encryption was far more complex but still five years outdated. There was a chance that undesirable parties could decipher the message and arrive uninvited.
The pod continued its fall until it was approximately ten kilometers above fast approaching ground. At about this time retro boosters started firing to slow the descent, or at least tried. They had suffered the same damage as the main booster when the pod escaped the Ark into a cross fire zone. The retro boosters spluttered, causing the pod to begin tumbling. Guidance boosters tried to counter the impending tumble which only fueled the original problem.
The lone occupant who endured this expedition was stoically terrified. Rail by name, was close friends with Fear and his associates and had felt absolutely zero need to voice his feelings about their descent. He’d had five years to prepare after all. Inside, red warning lights brighter than Rail’s equally red optics flared away unhindered. There was absolutely nothing he could but ride out the dangerous fast and erratic decent of his probable coffin.
One more red light began flashing away and this one did get heeded. It warned of an impeding energon detonation in the booster fuel lines. Rail popped the topside hatch. If the pod and he survived the landing, he was going to exit very fast. With the certainty of narrative imperative, the escape pod landed with a hellish crash, smashing Rail against the safety harness. With the well honed survival reflexes of the long lived, Rail’s instincts took control of his chassis, got him diving out through the hatch-way and running for dear life. He made it twenty paces when his home of five years wiped itself from existence in a ferro-crete shattering explosion, throwing Rail to the sandy desert floor like paper in the wind.
Rail slumped on the ground, and began rebooting his systems one by one as his self-diagnostics had simply given up. He silently thanked his makers for designing him with six star rated crash safety armor.