IMPORTANT NOTICE: The wiki has recently been updated with a new theme and layout. If you encounter any errors, bugs or unreadable information (like white text on white background, or something similar), please contact: compops@ufstarfleet.org. Please include a link in your e-mail to the page where the error is/was located for reference. For issues with your Service Jacket, please contact: personnel@ufstarfleet.org.
From UFS-Wiki
| |||||
| Biographical information | Photo | ||||
| Name: | CylonXD Slade (Male) | Date of Birth (Age): | Unknown (Unknown) | 
| |
| Species: | Ferretian | Place of Birth: | Ferretia Prime | ||
| Nationality: | Ferretian | Ethnic Origin: | Unknown | ||
| Languages: | English | ||||
| Physical information | |||||
| Height: | Unknown | Weight: | Unknown | ||
| Hair: | Unknown | Eyes: | Unknown | ||
| Blood type: | Biotic Synthesized Blood | Medical Restrictions: | None | ||
| Religion: | Unknown | ||||
| Other Important Medical Information: | None | ||||
| Other Identifying marks/Features: | None | ||||
| Family | |||||
| Maritial Status: | Single | Spouse | None | ||
| Children | None | Mother | Unknown | ||
| Father | Unknown | Siblings | None | ||
| Starfleet Records | |||||
| Service Number: | SSN0265 | Branch: | Unassigned | ||
| Rank: | Gunnery Sargeant | Position: | Unassigned | ||
| Current Assignment: | Unassigned | Security Clearance: | Delta-1, Level-4 | ||
| Status: | Inactive | ||||
| Biography | |||||
He bewares of pretty faces that he finds, he knows a pretty face can hide an evil mind - Ah, be careful what you say or you'll give yourself away - odds are you won't live to see tomorrow.
There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston Road, their outlines softened by the Black Dust. All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed - but looters had helped themselves to wine and food, and outside a jewellers some gold chains and a watch were scattered on the pavement. I stopped, staring towards the sound. It seemed as if that mighty desert of houses had found a voice for its fear and solitude. The desolating cry worked upon my mind. The wailing took possession of me. I was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty. Why was I wandering alone in this city of the dead? Why was I alive, when London was lying in state in its black shroud? I felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street, drawn inexorably towards that cry. Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, London had still seemed alive. Now suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something - and all that remained was this gaunt quiet. I looked up and saw a third machine, It was erect and motionless, like the others. An insane resolve possessed me: I would give my life to the Martians, here and now!! I marched recklessly towards the Titan and saw that a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about the hood. I began running along the road. I felt no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation, as I ran up the hill towards, the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore. I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose Hill, and the Martian's camp was below me. A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were the Martians - dead... slain, after all man's devices had failed, by the humblest things upon the Earth, Bacteria. Minute, invisible, bacteria! Directly the Invaders arrived and drank and fed, our microscopic allies attacked them. From that moment - they were doomed! The torment was ended. The people scattered over the country, desperate, leaderless, starved... the thousands who had fled by sea - including the one most dear to me - all would return. The pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again. As life returns to normal, the question of another attack from Mars causes universal concern. Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that, across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to us - but to the Martians? | |||||
| Personal / Professional History | Starfleet Service Record | ||||
|
| ||||
| Academy Record | |||||
| College of Command | College of Operations | College of Engineering | |||
|
No records on file. | ||||
| College of Medical Sciences | College of Academy Sciences | College of Galactic Sciences | |||
|
|
| |||
| College of Security Sciences | College of Cultural Studies | College of History | |||
|
|
No records on file. | |||
| TRACOM | Educational History | Weapons Qualifications | |||
|
None. | ||||
| Promotion History | Awards | ||||
|
| ||||
| Medical History | Reprimands | ||||
| No records on file. | No records on file. | ||||
