DeviousMe

The graphics driver requirements.

Forward: Frantic Rage
Reverse: Black Magic

Well. What a coinkidink...

Yeah, the canon itself works well enough since this was an entirely different place (a moon even, where the site of the Engineer ship in Alien was a planet), so there could've been any number of variations between those 'batches' of Aliens. The plot holes and sheer brainlessness of the expedition members, though...yeah, not so much.

Well okay, so the Captain and his pilots at least had their wits about them. But that was about it.

Six didn't respond, at least not verbally. If they wanted to work alone, that was their decision. Still, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at their designation of the inbound shuttle. Yes, the corporation did fine work, and while their transports couldn't compete with what the military had, they were quite proud of being one of the only firms to both design and build the craft that carried their business entirely in-house.

The shuttle meanwhile lumbered on down, six mammoth turbines tearing the snow and ice from the frozen ground like the proverbial ton of bricks, as if its designers had deigned to ensure the thing could punch a hole into what lay below with equal ease on both sides of the sound barrier. The still-expanding hole in the multiple layers of clouds above were certainly evidence to at least one region there, the transport's bow shock having carried enough energy to level a city - just one reason to leave it behind up in the high atmosphere, well out of the way.

Another was of course to not crater the craft, which now set down softly as a feather on more than a dozen wheels larger than most cars. Soon thereafter, engines spun down and the rear ramp groaned open, revealing a hold of well-secured packs, crates, and a 'dozer that looked like it could've run down the Great Wall of China without even slowing.

And then there was the elf.

Okay, so he wasn't an elf elf, but the tall, lithe figure in the short-sleeved, olive-drab uniform sure could've hopped right out of a Tolkien. Had the sharp-tipped ears and androgynous frame not been offset by that buzz cut, as well as a belt graced by both a sizable sidearm and a number of high-tech-looking pouches, the jokes would've practically written themselves. Still, the steel-gray eyes which sat below that snow-white hair spoke volume, and more than that belt, hard boots, and fingerless gloves all put together. This was a soldier.

And he smiled.

"Well now, I do believe I've lost my bet." the voice of 'Papa Dragon' remarked with a chuckle as he marched down the loading ramp, pale skin apparently utterly untouched by the cold, "This thing feels great. Who'd have thought? You boys do good work."

"The company will be glad to hear you are pleased with your advance." Six responded with a curt bow, being the one to whom he spoke, "As well as your choice to oversee the agreement personally."

To this, the new arrival chuckled again, eyes briefly passing over the locals, including the redcoats. However, he didn't seem to so much be looking at them as through them, as if he sought something else.

"With a place like this, how could I resist?" he said with that same smile, "So, what's the deal? They suitable?"

"I am about to discern that." the Scribe reached an arm to his side, and both their attention went with it. Not a moment later, the stripped earth first cracked, then boiled and churned, and a creature of the abyss clawed its way out into the open.

But what did it look like?

On Primal Earth, they were the locals, the embers of the inferno, harbingers of hellfire. On Cerosia, they were what the ache of that world had once held. But what were they here, on this frozen world of ice and cold? Just mirrors of their Primal counterparts, disparate in naught but sense? Or were they truly of the cold, true demons of frigid ice that burned with an utter lack of heat in the same infernal manner as their 'cousins' across worlds...?

((Hm. So I guess this one kind of petered out, huh?))

"Inadequate." the Cerosian snorted steamily, "Gather your supplies and make ready for transit by air. A shuttle will be arriving shortly."

Sure enough, the growl of distant thunder past the sea of clouds above soon marked the appearance of another portal somewhere overhead. Granted, radar or the like was more than likely to pick up on the quickly appearing hole in the world up past the stratosphere, especially since what lay beyond was something very much akin to Saturn's rings. A sense for magic was liable for the same, as the oblivion gate was very much a product of forces from beyond the veil, called into the physical world to do the world to do let the caller's will be done.

A few moments later, a football-field-and-a-half of deltoid nearly as wide as it was long 'splashed' into the thin air of the high atmosphere, almost instantly riding a plasma trail that mulled its way through the clouds with an eerie glow. Then speakers crackled, both on Six's suit and on any radio that happened to be picking up the rather wide frequency band momentarily hogged by the broadcast from beyond the oblivion gate to ensure it reached as many as possible.

"All ground-bound, this is Papa Dragon." the oddly southern-accented tone of someone who sounded like a military man with a surprisingly laid-back attitude came through, "Does anybody read? I say again: does anybody read? Come back..."

"Perhaps I should rephrase my question." the Cerosian replied with what almost could've been a sigh. Verbal communication was so terribly inefficient, "How much time will you need to complete transportation, and how much time will you need to complete construction...?"

"Your perceptions of morality are irrelevant to my mission." the Cerosian replied, though his neutrally intoned response made that sound in no way disparaging, despite his choice of words. It was just as if he'd stated some observation, such as the measure of a hill or the color of the sky, "Our goals have coincidence, and that is all that matters. How much time will you need to complete transportation and construction...?"

I'd be happy if we just got access to the new stock NPC enemy groups as they come out with the issues. Seriously, the Praetoria story is practically over, and I still can't make any arcs for my friends where we actually can do something important-looking because we can't tangle with the IDF.

But yes, more powersets, more maps, more everything please.

This actually lifted Six's mood considerably. Now that the redcoats exhibited what he saw as lessened attempts to hide their augmentations, they became much more sympathetic to the himself heavily 'wired' Cerosian.

Even though he was technically wireless.

"I see you have come more prepared than I initially believed." he remarked to them while the Necrian with whom he'd come here with joined Azurewing with course due back to Primal Earth, "When will you be ready to depart...?"

Allen gave the Commander a quizzical look at this, "Then why'd you say they wouldn't...ah. English. Right. I need to stop doing that. Well, that should make things easier for you, huh?"

"Perhaps." Six gave answer, the Necrian having visibly addressed that question to him, "Further information would be needed to draw a proper conclusion. However, I will defer to your experience."

"Good." the wolflike alien smirked mischievously, "Then call up Papa Dragon and get some backup, just in case. I'll head back and see if the Rowers have found anything new."

"Yes, General." the Cerosian gave him a mixture of nod and bow, likely some gesture of respect, then set his step toward the outside, clearly expecting the redcoats to come along. If they didn't though, he'd resort to using words. If they still didn't after that, well, he wasn't going to wait for them.

"Not bad." Allen meanwhile remarked to Yale, "I hope to see you again soon. Let's see where this goes..."

"Really?" the Necrian questioned with a quirked brow, "So...you're telling me you'll go out and 'smack around some ice monsters', which the Commander there says are hard to find, all by yourselves, but you won't go with a plan that's sure to lure them out...?"

Allen couldn't help but echo the Commander's snicker, wanting to know of the mercenaries, "Well, so what about it? Willing to play bait?"

"And what about you?" he looked to Six again, "You'll have a much better chance of finding what types are good for food this way than just summoning them one at a time."

"Your proposal is logical." the Cerosian hissingly agreed with what may have been a nod. His visored face turned to the redcoats, "What are your capabilities in subjects capture and retrieval...?"

"A 'magical' nature does not a demon make." the Scribe ratcheted back at Yale, his dispassionate and emotionless tone making the reply sound downright rude, "I will commence investigation."

"Six, be nice!" Allen raised his voice a moment, glancing toward the Cerosian, "Remember, they think different, but that doesn't mean they can't help you."

"In fact, I think these guys here could help a lot." he gave the mercenaries a tactful grin, "And you can relax. All our stuff's nuclear. We don't have any use for oil. Doesn't mean we don't have any use for each other, though. Six, how quick can you get a shuttle over here?"

"No longer than is required for atmospheric entry." the Cerosian replied, "But what reason is there? Do you require further assistance?"

"No, but I think you could use some." the Necrian let his eyes wander over the groups of mercenaries and redcoats alike as he asked, "Commander Yale, if someone set up an oil well, say, somewhere to the south of here, think your opponent would get sufficiently annoyed to get something to come out of hiding? Maybe some ice monsters? Or demons...?"

"Of course." Allen gave a nod, setting the case closed, but not locking it again. Yale had seen how this thing was latched and wouldn't have any trouble buttoning it back up if desired, "Contrary to her ideas, I do mean what I said. This is meant to legitimize your authority, and that of your people here, in the eyes of mine; not an attempt to influence you. If you decide to go, that decision needs to be made of your own free will - otherwise no matter what planet you move to, it'll feel like you got hosed."

"But we can talk more about that later." the Necrian smiled, "At this point, I'll be content with you letting these other provinces know what we're offering - and that we're willing to negotiate. This isn't the only offer on the table. Just the first. Which reminds me...Six?"

"Thank you, General." the Cerosian hissed synthetically, taking a step toward the Commander, "First, a request for clarification: I was informed the ice has produced 'demons' of a kind. Are these true demonic entities, or have you merely named them so?"

The wolflike alien meanwhile looked to the mercenaries and redcoats, moving a bit closer to them as not to infringe on Six's conversation with the Commander too much.

"So you're after oil, huh? Got a way to get at it?" he asked the former, in the same sweep addressing the latter, "And you guys want...what, just anything running around out there...?"

Allen couldn't help but give a light laugh at Yale's response to the mercenaries. Yes, he definitely liked this man. And he seemed amicable to the Necrians' offer too. That was already one step in the right direction. Now he just hoped luck was on his side and the others would agree as well.

"I understand." he told the Commander, extending a hand to Six in request for the long suitcase, which the Cerosian promptly delivered, "And no, I don't expect. But I hope. And in faith to that hope, let's make you official."

Relieving Six of the heavy-looking thing, he set the case down at the edge of Yale's desk, snapping open the latches that sealed it one after another, "You see, my people have a clan structure, and only the leader has the authority to make decisions for the clan. We call that leader the Sentry. And this..."

The wolflike alien pulled the case open as he spoke, revealing a truly massive sword that looked as if it would've taken a whole score of men to lift. It obviously wasn't really that heavy of course, as alluded to both by its high-tech appearance as well as the fact that Yale's desk wasn't groaning or collapsing, but that this wasn't meant for the meek was easily just as evident.

"...is a Sentry's blade." Allen continued to explain, "The first we've created in a long time, and currently one of the only two that exist. I'd like you to take it; to mark your people as the second of the new clans, and you as their Sentry, so that we might negotiate on equal ground."

"Oh, and please don't feel any pressure from this." he added with a smirk, "No matter what happens from here, this will remain with you. Not that there's much choice, mind you. Once a newly forged Sentry's blade is touched by the chosen Sentry, a very strong bond is created. You'll see what I mean. It'll take on an aspect of you. My blade, for instance, is composed of solid darkness. I'd be very interested to see what yours becomes. Who knows? It might even develop a personality of its own in due time..."

"Wow." Allen remarked after a few moments, admittedly taken aback. Still, a halfway outstretched hand stayed Six, who'd made to apparently nab Cara by the neck or such, and a chuckle preceded his response, "You really are just that conceited. Hm. Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Anyway," he addressed the Commander again with a good-natured smile (well, at least his best attempt at it; human gestures like that didn't come across too well with such a bestial visage), "I guess according to that, my name's No One. And it really is a very good offer. For both of you. And us. You get a chance to make a fresh start on an untouched world - or we can move you somewhere there are already people instead; we actually have a few places where humans went extinct that are interested in you - your challenger, or s, as the case may be, get to ice this place over, and my people finally get a planet we can actually live on again."

"And yes, you can still set up processing plants." he looked to Six almost immediately, the Cerosian (much as one could tell, anyway) having been about to interject, "We don't mind sharing..."

"Well, I can't speak for the others, but actually, I have just one." the Necrian addressed Yale with a smirk. He liked this guy already, "You see, I'm looking for a new home for my people - and yours has a lot of potential. Granted, we'll have to do something about all this light and turn the thermostat down a few more notches, but those are details. What I want to know from you is whether your people are willing to trade..."

Allen smiled broadly as he took in a deep lungful of the local air, apparently finding it much more to his liking than that of the other side. In fact, if anyone noticed, the gaze with which he swept the room looked downright excited. Well, except for when it passed over a heater. The Necrian seemed to almost regard those with some kind of disdain.

Six meanwhile carried himself in a manner just as frigid as the room. If anything actually drew the Cerosian's notice, there was no way to tell short of attempting to snatch up his thoughts. Not that there were too many of those right now. The bulk of his attention had gone to the sensors of his suit, patiently awaiting their judgment of the surroundings.

"Kind of bright." the wolflike alien remarked in greeting to the soldier, confirming acceptance of the man's request with a nod, "But that's not hard to fix. Please, lead the way..."

"A favorable development." Six hissed with something that might've been considered an audible smile. His suit's large visor certainly didn't let on whether or not there was a visible one attached, "I will inform the harvesting firm to speed preparations."

"Ap-ap-ap-ap." the Necrian interjected quite quickly, and with a raised finger to his bulky associate, "They're not yours yet. We do still have kind of an interest here."

"Okay then." he then gave a nod to Pitcher, "Let's get going, yes...?"