[ Located on the planet of Solace, Refuge had been touted as the newest colony safe from the Reaper threat, open to all people from all walks of life, if they could afford it. Basically a luxury hotel, in addition to the usual amenities – free extranet access, several gyms, two pools, recreational facities, etc. – Refuge also boasted a suite of security protocols; shielding to protect its inhabitants; and a regiment of soldiers, a brigade of security mechs, and a squadron of fighter pilots on-call at all hours of the day. The price point, the brochure said, was far more reasonable than a certain other facility’s asking fee.
It almost was too good to be true.
Almost.
There hadn’t been any reports from the planet itself, but various reports from family and friends of those who had already taken refuge on Refuge stated that their loved ones or friends would maintain communication, tell them of all the comforts the colony had to offer and urge them to come and join them. Then one day, they would suddenly—stop. Out of nowhere. Sometimes even mid conversation, where message sent to omnitools were involved.
Representatives of the colony stated that due to the boom in settlers, they were having trouble keeping track of the comings and goings of their inhabitants. That it was possible that those who were “missing” were not missing at all, and perhaps they had lost track of the time and forgot to communicate? With all of the activities Refuge had on offer, it would be no surprise for one to simply forget themselves in the fun of it all.
Or perhaps the people who were “missing” had not existed at all, the representatives said. After all, their records, as behind as they were, simply did not show anyone by that name. Perhaps those reports had been fabricated by a mistrusting or jealous competitor, and perhaps it would be best if the authorities ignored such clearly falsified reports.
The authorities on Refuge clearly had no plans in cooperating.
Which is where “Mr. and Mrs. McClain” enter the picture, currently traveling by shuttle to take shelter from the war.
“Mr. James McClain” currently has his arm stretched out on the back of Mrs. McClain’s seat, looking entirely at ease; the shy, giddy smiles he casts his wife and his stubborn insistence on doing everything for her (opening doors, offering his hand on steps, getting up to retrieve drinks or snacks, etc.) is a sure sign of someone who has recently claimed the title of “husband.” The luster of the ring on his left hand only helps cement that little fact. ]
I think we’re almost there. It should be a fun time, huh, sweetie?
[ The grin he shoots her this time has more of an edge to it, crooked and sly and much more Peter than shy, excited James McClain. ]
no subject
It almost was too good to be true.
Almost.
There hadn’t been any reports from the planet itself, but various reports from family and friends of those who had already taken refuge on Refuge stated that their loved ones or friends would maintain communication, tell them of all the comforts the colony had to offer and urge them to come and join them. Then one day, they would suddenly—stop. Out of nowhere. Sometimes even mid conversation, where message sent to omnitools were involved.
Representatives of the colony stated that due to the boom in settlers, they were having trouble keeping track of the comings and goings of their inhabitants. That it was possible that those who were “missing” were not missing at all, and perhaps they had lost track of the time and forgot to communicate? With all of the activities Refuge had on offer, it would be no surprise for one to simply forget themselves in the fun of it all.
Or perhaps the people who were “missing” had not existed at all, the representatives said. After all, their records, as behind as they were, simply did not show anyone by that name. Perhaps those reports had been fabricated by a mistrusting or jealous competitor, and perhaps it would be best if the authorities ignored such clearly falsified reports.
The authorities on Refuge clearly had no plans in cooperating.
Which is where “Mr. and Mrs. McClain” enter the picture, currently traveling by shuttle to take shelter from the war.
“Mr. James McClain” currently has his arm stretched out on the back of Mrs. McClain’s seat, looking entirely at ease; the shy, giddy smiles he casts his wife and his stubborn insistence on doing everything for her (opening doors, offering his hand on steps, getting up to retrieve drinks or snacks, etc.) is a sure sign of someone who has recently claimed the title of “husband.” The luster of the ring on his left hand only helps cement that little fact. ]
I think we’re almost there. It should be a fun time, huh, sweetie?
[ The grin he shoots her this time has more of an edge to it, crooked and sly and much more Peter than shy, excited James McClain. ]
I’m sure there’ll be lots to do.