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"Oh, that. It's still under wraps so I'm not allowed to talk about it." replied McLain.

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"If I may presume, it has something to do with the old warp-field project?" He asked.

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"Yes it does. We will try propelling ships faster using the device we thought might help us warp in that vain attempt. It will double our speed." replied Bryant.

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"Ah, how far is the project from completion?" He asked.

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--Meanwhile, in another part of the base--
Smeg stopped before he returned to his office, stopping at the workstation that was making the badges for the Gemini. "How's it going Steve?" He asked a tall man with black hair wearing a cruddy pair of overalls, despite the fact that he was working with a sewing machine attaching badges to uniforms.
"Fine, I got the ones for your new guys done, I only have yours left, your secretary gave me their sizes." Steve replied.
"Can I have the completed ones? I would like the last one to be dropped at my office." He said, going to a pile of jet-black uniforms. "Thanks." He said, picking them up and leaving before Steve answered. He went to Sergeant Wither's quarters first, he wanted some feedback on the design from a fellow pilot before anyone else. He sounded that he was there, and waited for permission to enter.

<OOC> Netzen's up </OOC>

Narraration: The "Old Warp-field project" was a project in the late 2070's, meant to help boost speed without extra fuel. It was dropped after a shuttle exploded after engaging it. It was not thought to have been picked up.

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"Ok. I lied. I can barely keep a straight face here!This is the down low, about a year ago, a Sirian shield generator was taken here for scientific research, my task was to get it to work on our technology, but I guess now some other lucky guy will get to do it..." said McLain.

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Jeremy heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said cheerily, once again putting out his ciggarete, he never smoked with company unless he knew the other person smoked as well.

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Smeg heard "Come in." and went in. "Hello Sergeant Withers." He said, motioning for him to remain seated. "I have your new uniform, I hope it's good enough, I designed it with pilots in mind, and wanted a fellow pilot to see it first." He said, handing one with a tag that read "Withers". The Jet black uniform had four pockets on the front, and had the Gemini logo on the left sleeve: a picture of the constellation Gemini. It was made of extremely light and cool fabric, and seemed to flow in the hands of Colonel O'Reilly. "No pants yet, the fabric has to be re-designed to work as a bottom."

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The Sgt. took the uniform from Smegs hands. He quickly took off his current shirt and swapped it with this one, zipping up the half-zipper on the front. He commented, "Very lightweight and stylish, a good thing for the ladies. Comfortable too. Does it come with a belt or headgear?"

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"Yes, it will." He replied. "The belt had to be remade, the material that it was made of wouldn't stop stretching." He said, remembering the incident in the Mess Hall. "The headgear is still being made, only one copy has been produced fully at the moment, the rest are still being worked on."

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"Good good." Withers responded. "It breathes and moves very well. Speaking from a pilots perspective it is satisfactory sah!"

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"I'll tell Steve, the man that made these, that you like it. He's spent weeks making the fabric for them." He replied, and started to leave. "I'll be seeing you at 1600 hours." And he walked out, going to another's quarters.

TIME: 1405 HOURS.

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<OOC> Just to tell you now: My guy's gonna have a big fit over those suits (if he has to wear one).<OOC/>

<Then don't tell us now. It ruins the surprise. >
Withers saluted the Colonel as he left, then lit his cigarete back up. HE then proceded to go down to the small cantina on base. He planed to spend his next two hours well.

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Smeg had delivered all the uniforms except two: Parley Wallace's and Captain Turbine's. He decided to deliver Wallace's first. After finding his room, he used an odd looking door buzzer to sound his arrival.

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"Such a project could be even more important than S.O.M.M." the Captain exclaimed "You do realize that you are risking your life by telling me this..."

When he got there, the place was nearly empty, not unusual for this time, most people cleared out at noon. A fat man wearing a grease-stained-holey once-white shirt cam out. "What'll it be?"

MENU:
There were more things on the menu, but they were all scratched out.

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The pilot sat at the bar and thought. "A tall glass of milk. Put it on my tab."

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"Coming right up." The man said, going through a door that looked as though he couldn't fit through. He came back in with a 32 Ounce glass of almost-ice-cold milk. "Nice uniform." He said. "Gemini?" He said, motioning towards the patch. "I've done a bit of searching on constellations of Earth, what group are you in?"

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<GM NOTICE: Okay, responding for Westarrunner>
"Yes, sir, I do." He replied. "Three years I've been working in secret, THREE YEARS! Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret for that long?" He asked. "I don't want to talk anymore, go away please." And with that, he turned his back to the Captain.

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"None that I know as of yet." said Withers.

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"You by any chance part of that new group?" He asked. "There's been a rumor going around that they started a team of the best. Supposed to help invade Earth or something, but you didn't hear that from me." He said.

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Having just been 'dismissed', Jeffery left to continue preparations for the demonstration.

Smeg left the Uniform in the drop box next to the door, heading to give Jeffrey his uniform. He met him outside of Jeffrey's workshop. "How did it go, what did he tell you?"

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"I might be, but I might be a part of the new flight engineering team. You neva know." Jeremy said with a slight smile and a sip of milk.

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"You know, I was a fighter back in my day, before they came." The older man replied. "I used to be a rifleman back on Earth. I think I may be the only man to have killed a Sirian organic on Mars right now." The man sighed heavily. "But that was a long time ago, I'm in no shape for that now."

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<OOC> Earth to Somm </OOC>

MAJOR EDIT: (New storyline elements)

Commander Korrakiln knew he might be found out eventually, but he didn't care. The Sirian government had become corrupt, he was the mastermind behind the Sirian underground movement. He had learned some of the Human language from a slave that he freed two years ago. Silly human language, so many sounds, no fear or passion displayed through the words. The Sirians had two voices: Frightening and Eloquent. They could keep an audience attentive for hours without so much as scaring them. On the other hand, they could make the humans on Earth cower at the very mention of words like "Kretan" (The Sirian word for Power, commonly used as a war cry). Korrakiln was a born leader, meant from day one to be in power. From his childhood he had dreamed of bringing the Sirian Empire back to the glory it once had, long before the Rokan-Sirian war.

Korrakiln wanted a war, he had to result to subterfuge. He was a fighter, he had been reduced to politics. The underground movement was growing, however, and soon he would have the power to challenge the Sirian government. Some of the slaves he had freed from Earth had told him of refugees on the Red Planet, fourth from the star that heated Earth. He would try to gain friendship with these humans, and hopefully aid them in retaking their planet which had been so wrongfully wrenched from their grasp.

NEW RACE ADDED: SIRIAN
NEW CLASS ADDED: SIRIAN GUARD
NEW CLASS ADDED: SIRIAN MOBILE GUNNER

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Jeremey smiled at the mans reminising. That would probably be what he would turn out to be, if he survived. "I've got some time," he said. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"
<I'm under GM controll till Sunday/Monday>

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"To be honest, Sir, I'm not sure if I'm at liberty to inform you" the Captain responded while pondering why the Colonel was holding some sort of jump suit "I shouldn't even know about it myself."

"I guess that'll be alright, if you have some time." The man said. "Let's go sit down over there, if you don't mind." He said, walking over and sitting down, with Jeremy following. "It all began on a clear, beautiful day on Earth, New York City to be exact. I was in the 103rd mobile gunning division. Then they came. The came in huge drop ships, letting down thousands of battle robots, or droids if you like that name better. They cut down any who opposed them. Within days, all of the people were enslaved, except for a few that made it to the countryside. A Sirian group of organics was apparently assigned to capture those that fled. When they came close, me and a few of my squad buddies opened fire. Two of those cursed Sirians got close and opened up. It was horrible, I was the only one left." A tear rolled down the old mans cheek. "All my life, gone in those few seconds, all my friends, I was alone in the middle of the Canadian wild. I reached a house near a town in the middle of Quebec." The man paused. "I'll be back in a minute, I need a drink."



"Did he give you that lame story about the shield generator?" Smeg asked. "That was standard cover story for the secret project he was working on, I should know, I'm the one that stole the generator."

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