<div style="margin:20px; margin-top:5px"><div class="quotetitle"><input class="button2 btnlite" onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = '';      this.innerText = ''; this.value = 'Hide'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerText = ''; this.value = 'Show'; }" style="text-align:center;width:100px;margin:0px;padding:0px;" type="button" value="Show"/></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee77/Bernstal/Quen.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/>Name: Quen Giann<br/><br/>Age: 32<br/><br/>Appearance: Quen is, like so many other space born humans, tall and lanky, despite the hard earned muscle under his uniform. He has the dull, colorless grey hair typical to kids raised on ships and stations, along with pale skin and eyes. He doesnâ€™t tend to shave often, because, wellâ€¦ thereâ€™s no one to notice; just as he doesnâ€™t usually cut his hair except for to keep it out of his face. He always appears to have the most intense scowl; a look as if heâ€™s struggling with a question he canâ€™t quite understand or answer. <br/><br/>Personality: Quen can seem like your perfect soldier at first glance. Heâ€™s serious, disciplined, hard working, follows orders flawlessly and without question, and has a respect for authority that borders on naivety. However, Quen would also never follow an order that conflicts with his own code of ethics without very good reason, and strives to see justice done in the universe. He has very conservative views, and isnâ€™t afraid to state his beliefs openly and sometimes a little bluntly. Quen, despite his ruthless opportunism, is also very reliable; heâ€™d never say he could do something if he had his doubts, and if he says heâ€™ll do it, he will, no matter the cost. Heâ€™s inventive, clever, and methodical to accomplish his goals. Some people might even call him lucky.</div></div></div><br/><br/>When the Corps told you that space was empty, they also neglected to add that it was boring. Mind numbingly boring. Stunning views of rarely witnessed phenomena aside, one could only spend so much time losing at holo-chess to the Agniastraâ€™s AI before it got old. It might only have the same number of connections as a chimpâ€™s brain, but it managed to out-do him almost every time. The chimp, as heâ€™d taken to calling it, didnâ€™t forget, didnâ€™t make mistakes, and had no extraneous functions to attend to. All it ever had to do was thinkâ€¦<br/><br/>Quen had passed pulsar 391-D2 for the fifth time. It had been spectacular the first time, impressive the second, and just another star by the third. It had done nothing out of the ordinary. Just as nothing else had changed in his empty quadrant.<br/><br/>The chimp tracked a fast moving blip, and in the picosecond it took to process the information, it was already too late to avoid it.<span style="font-style: italic">Collision imminent</span>, warned the always calm, slightly mechanical voice. It wasnâ€™t enough time for Quen to even brace himself.<br/><br/>Everything jolted. Hard. At least three different alarms started immediately. More joined the ruckus moments afterward.<br/><br/>â€œReport!â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Communications array damaged!</span></span>the chimp screeched over top of the cacophony of competing alarms.<br/><br/>â€œI said report, you stupid machine!â€ Not that shouting helped.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Communications array damaged!</span></span>the AI repeated.<br/><br/>â€œWhat does that mean?!â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Communications array damaged!</span></span><br/><br/>Exasperated, bruised, and amazed that there was even something to hit way out here, he climbed back into the chair, punching up a report for himself. â€œStop saying that, chimp brain!â€ The scroll told him nothing. â€¦The communications array was damaged. Of course. The chimp meant that it was blind; it had no idea what was wrong. The communication between main terminal and the rest of the sensors was busted.<br/><br/>The AI couldnâ€™t even tell him if whatever it was was still out there. Quen ignored the opposing alarms and switched on the view screen, hoping the vid-recorders werenâ€™t too badly damaged. What he saw stunned him. Another ship.<br/><br/>Another ship?<br/><br/>What right did that have to be out here?<br/><br/>â€œOpen a channel and hail the unknown ship.â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Communications array damaged!</span></span>Was that annoyance he heard from the chimp? Noâ€¦ just his own with the repetitive message projected onto the emotionless computer.