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|Fly Me to the Moon|
|Topic Started: Aug 12 2012, 03:47 PM (47 Views)|
|The Isles of Orland||Aug 12 2012, 03:47 PM Post #1|
(ooc: this is a space rp research thread. I'm working on a 2 RL month principal. At the end of the two months Dyranea (or rather a Dyranean company) will have a basic space access capability. I mean very basic. Essentially the ability to put a small payload (2.3 tons including pilot) into low earth orbit.)
“And let me play among the stars…” the singer crooned.
The singer’s disembodied voice was as smooth as bourbon as it floated out from the table radio and filled the small and cramped office. Three walls were taken up with weighty tomes which crowed over themselves and seemed to fill the bookshelf to bursting point. Their topics were diverse and seemed to cover every possible subject from ‘An Account of My Years in the Zaran Sea’ through to ‘An Introduction to the Properties and Practices of Underground Mining in Deltoria’.
“Let me see what spring is like, On Jupiter and Mars…”
A large desk occupied the centre of the room. Behind it sat Victor Collins a slim man of handsome looks and a withdrawn personality. His attention was occupied by a series of complex diagrams and calculations and a well-padded book titled ‘Harmon’s Military Almanac – Missiles and Rockets, 298RE’.
“We need engines…” the muttered words had been his constant refrain that morning.
Below his office the sound of power tools, half shouts and physical work could be heard. The radio, unhappily, failed to conceal the semi-organized chaos below. The noise only got louder when his business partner, Viktoria Page, threw open his office door.
“How’s the search going pard’ner?” Page said intentionally thickening her territorial accent. She knew Collins hated it. Collins scowled by way of reply.
“I think I’ve found the ones we need” he added when she didn’t leave, “No idea how we’ll get a hold of them though. I don’t think they’d be willing to just sell them to us. Particularly seeing as they are attached to the back of an ICBM.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out boy-oh” Page grinned, “After all you are the brains of this outfit”
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