And the Circus comes to San Diego

The Olympus, limping along at only 15.8 times light speed... its body scarred with rents and alloyed spots of melted hull... this ship was once sleek and beautiful, but its appearance is similar to that of a space station after a meteor storm...

The ship is propelled by projected fields of gravity, pulling itself forward while simultaneously pushing self along, bending a bubble of space around itself to defy the limits that other ships are bound by.

Its gravity bands flickering in and out, breaking down... bits of the armored shell are ripping off and are flattened, twisted, and broken down as they hit the bands.

the gravity bands give out utterly as the ship approaches the star designated Sol, getting caught in the gravity field of the third planet... its final act before the engine shuts down is to geosynchronize its orbit.

The only survivor on the ship, is sitting in the observation deck, a science officer who steered the faltering ship through a rerouted control panel after the command deck was vaporized in a radioactive burst of a gamma torpedo... the ship analyzes the massive amounts of radio waves that the ship is being constantly bombarded with... the analysis computer starts to decipher all of the transmissions, but it will take time.

Epsilon Sigma Tau reaches the conclusion that closer observation would be more helpful than distant, perhaps he will attain the key to unraveling the varied language of the planet below


"Olympus, Prepare an R.A.Z. Scout, Class Six Speed System, Class Three Sensor system and Class Five Weaponry, with Class Two Armor" the being says in an alien language.

Deep within the bay of the ship, a set of machines spring to life, humming and buzzing as hydraulics and gears clicking as it assembles a mechanical armored vessel.

A drop ship is launched and soon after Epsilon Sigma Tau's vessel hovers slightly above the ground and deposits the four ton mech before heading back up toward the ship. Nearby a circus tent is knocked half over by the impact of the landing.

Gotta love the cheering crowd, Miri thought to herself as she flipped her way through the air, grabbing hold of her partner's hands as he dangled from the swing across from her own.  "Ah, my adoring fans," she said as she looks down over them all.

"Your jump is coming up," her partner says.

"I know."

Down below, the ring master continued to keep up the energy with his special brand of suspense-building jibber jabber.  It was a little known fact that al ringmasters had the speech skills of a used car salesman.  This man was no different.  But as Miri flings herself through the air once more, catching the opposite swing by her feet, there is a loud sound, followed by an enormous crash.  Down below, people began to run a scream in terror.  It was like a bomb had just gone off.  Both acrobats stop what they're doing and at ease on the swings, looking down.  "That didn't sound like the human cannonball act," Miri remarks.

"No kiddin'."

A tad later, the show has stopped as the ring master rushed outside, seeing that one of the tents has been, for lack of a better term, uprooted.  "Great Caesar's Ghost," the man proclaimed.

Miri stepped out and whistled, resting her arm on his shoulder.  "Well, that's inconvenient."

"Miri, we might be needing some help...help that might be able to make heads or tails of what just happened."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it.  I mean- I'll go get her," Miri said, strolling off.

A bit later Spry made her way to the toppled tent, her staff over her shoulder.  Looking up at the frame of it, she picks out a noticeable route to a high point.  In a feat of sheer acrobatic genius, she takes a running start, flipping and leaping her way to the top of the structure to get a better look at her surroundings.  "I spy, with my little eye, something...waaay bizarre," she says.

The quadrupedal mechanized suit is slightly larger than a Hummer, the forelegs of the vessel are dug almost half a foot into the ground from the heavy landing, and the back legs are dug even further in... the technological sensors in the cockpit of the machine detect the new gawkers, and zoom in, locking onto the people that assembled to gaze upon the smooth silver shell...

Initiating acceleration protocols, distance 6.2438 VRT, ETA 23 ICC.

The driver of the exo-suit makes the machine rear, tearing its forelegs and rear legs out of the ground and rocketing toward them. A horrific sight, tons of metal rushing toward the crowd at almost the speed of sound... the whirring and slamming of the machines feet hitting the ground over and over... skidding to a halt only thirty feet away from the crowd, spraying them with a hail of dirt and rocks...

The top of the machine buzzes slightly and makes a pinging noise, unsealing itself with a pneumatic hiss...

"Ooh. Shiny," Spry said, staring at the several tons of metal before her. The crowd ran around in panic. Some ran off in a mad haste to reach a safe place. Spry watches from the top of the tent, rather nonchalantly. They were like ants from that high up. Though the big machine was more like a Heracles Beetle. Ringmaster and the rest of the circus performers helped people toward the parking lot where they can hopefully find their cars and get away. The scurrying below amused Spry, but if she didn't do something, Bagley would give her an earful whenever this was over. Those were honestly never any fun. Having slid down the tent, Spry landed before the leviathan and stared up at it, whistling before crossing her arms and tilting her head. "Yo, Iron Giant Mk II. What's the big idea?" Assuming, of course, you understand English. If not, I could always try hitting.

The midsection of the back of the mech raises up and slides back, revealing an extremely pale man in a black mesh suit, his form is utterly hairless and very sleek.

His eyes are a brilliant cybernetic blue as he stares at you, watching your form and stance, taking in every detail of you. He stares for far too long to be considered polite, his hands are deep within cylinders, that reach up to his elbows, and fold outward, like flower petals opening, and he sits up, climbing out of the mech and dropping to the ground with a soft thump... attempting to mimic your stance and facial expression...

"Buddy, we have a hall of mirro-" Spry pauses and turns, looking behind her. "Well, we HAD a hall of mirrors. Your big metal pet crushed it. You here to start probing or abducting people? 'Cause if you are, you can snatch up anyone 'cept my Circus buddies, 'kay? ...Hellooooo?"

The aliens head cocks to the side slightly, and rattles off a garbled rapid fire string of harsh syllables, trying to communicate with the human that actually stayed to speak.

None of the words make any sense, and many cannot even be replicated by human vocal cords.

His eyes analyze the female, and the tent that is slumped to the side, He waits for a response, still ineffectually trying to mimic her form.

"Okay, no one's home," Spry says, placing a hand on her hip.  "Well, ya don't understand a word I'm sayin'.  If you're good just standin' there, 's no skin off my nose.  Later."  Then she abruptly turns and begins to walk off, making sure to look over her shoulder, just in case.