Tales of the Efferdhal Lily/The Tales/Leaving Tombstone
From UTRPG
| Tales of the Efferdhal Lily Campaign Timeline | |
|---|---|
| Part 1: The Artifact Trilogy | |
| Book 1 | The Viagran Waystation |
| Book 2 | The Sign of the Black Leaf |
| Book 3 | The Tombstone Mission |
| Part 2: Beyond Oregon (the RPOL story) | |
| Book 1 | Leaving Tombstone |
| Book 2 | The Oregon Trail |
| Book 3 | The Salem Affair |
Chapter 1 of To Oregon and Beyond
- In which the Efferdhal Lily does not overstay its welcome.
Contents |
[edit] Synopsis
TBD
The following is the narrative of the first part of the RPOL leg of the story.
- Note: this page needs some heavy editing for format and style.
[edit] Leaving Tombstone
The Efferdhal Lily was uncharacteristically quiet on its 84-hour deceleration toward the Tombstone slipknot. It's crew was still mulling over the words of Tombstone's president, Simon Walletminder:
- You folks have done me -- and Tombstone -- a great service. I'm quite grateful, but I'm sure you'll understand why I need to tell you to leave. After all, you're under suspicion for having done a terrible thing and the first thing I must do before continuing in the shoes of my great predecessor is to bring his villainous assailants to justice. If you stick around I will have no choice but to have you arrested for my own political gain.
Derrick had barely said a word since leaving the spacedock. Seeming even more morose than usual, he spent all his time in his cabin, emerging only for occasional navigation systems checks. Every time he saw Jett, Derrick would scowl and mutter under his breath. James similarly got the cold shoulder, but any inquiries from Preston were met with a sigh, a shake of the head and an earnest "you don't want to know."
24 hours from arrival, Derrick's voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be entering slipknot security's sensor range in about three hours, and arriving there in twenty-three. Please make sure all your fake IDs are in order before we step onto the platform."
Christya mulled over the events of their last caper. Sure, they managed to bilk the leader of a system power and sure Jett had been desperate to see Spaceböss underground, or overplaneted, or whatever these spacer-types called dead, but it was the first time a grift of hers had been executed with the goal of murder, and it left her feeling discomfited, as though a greasy film lay over her skin. She did her best to conceal her feelings, especially from Jett, since she worried what he might do if he saw her as a threat to his freedom.
[edit] In the galley
Preston had been pacing around the spaceship. Truthfully, he had not really been paying attention to what had been going on, and now that tensions seemed high, he felt uncomfortable asking anyone. After an awkward attempt to start up conversation with Derrick, Preston decided to go to the mess hall and eat a Space Twinky, which is what he did.
After checking that the Lily didn't need any course adjustments, Derrick followed Preston to the galley. He closed the door, grabbed a Space Twinky, and sat next to his old friend.
"Preston, do you feel like this operation has... well, deviated from what we were doing before? I mean, helping Jacob explore and collect ancient relics was one thing, but I don't remember being shot at quite so much before.
"Come to think of it, you've barely seen the half of it. I don't know if you've been monitoring the landing party comm link, but we seem to have pissed off really important people pretty much everywhere. We were chased out of Viagra by Spaceböss' goons, we were attacked by armed security at the U of A, and now we've been told that 'Tombstone ain't big enough for the both of us' by the fucking President.
"I'm really conflicted. I like our companions. I think we get along well, and I like what they each bring to the table. But I'm pretty sure Jett killed that Spaceböss guy, and James really seems like a danger magnet. Even Jacob seems like more trouble than he's worth sometimes.
"Man, but I feel bad saying this. Maybe I'm just in one of my moods. This is just between you and me, okay? What do you think about all this?"
Preston gave his friend's comments a few moments to sink in as he finished off his Space Twinky. It had been a good one. If only Derrick had remained silent for another minute, Preston could have enjoyed it to its full extent.
The Twinky now gone, Preston turned to Derrick wearing a brow furrowed with thoughtfulness. "I see what you mean and in situations like this I always ask myself 'what would Captain Colonialism do?'" Preston reached into the opened box and pulled out another Space Twinky and began to unwrap it. "In fact this reminds me precisely of the time Captain Colonialism had to travel to bizaro 3rd world to save the Aristonian economy. What we need to do is reevaluate our goals, then we need to create some allies to take all the heat for our actions.
"The problem is I have no idea why we are out here. What do we refocus to? I wanted to create an academic expedition but we seem hardly equipped or staffed to do so." Preston was halfway through his second Space Twinky and decided he didn't want the rest of it. "you wanna finish this?" he asked holding it out to Derrick.
Derrick eyed the Twinky held up for inspection. He remembered reading about TwinCo, the company who produced this particular confection, in a long-ago civics class. Almost a hundred years ago, in a time when Areston's public policy leaned more toward economic advantage than toward the public good, TwinCo got an individual exception to the law stating that any item meant for human consumption must bear a list of ingredients on its packaging. The Twinky, it was argued, was so important to TwinCo's status as a beloved producer of tasty snacks that even releasing the list of ingredients would hurt TwinCo -- and, by extension, Areston. As he observed the iridescent reflections of the galley lights off the slowly oozing filling, it occurred to Derrick that the argument had never specified whether TwinCo was worried about imitation by competitors or about revulsion by consumers.
Still, a Twinky was a delicious treat, sweet and light, any time of day or night™. "Thanks," Derrick said, and ate the offered Twinky in two bites.
"You know, Preston," Derrick said, running his tongue across the slick residue the Twinky left on his teeth, "you don't have to give up on your idea of running an academic expedition. There are experts in Slipknot Theory who think that there are more than just seven slipknot systems out there. Jin Dember thinks that Oregon probably has a connection to another system, if someone can find it. And if that someone is us, think of the fame and prestige we'll garner. What will people think!?
"Shouldn't be too hard to sell to the others, either. Jett'll probably be thrilled to go somewhere where nobody's got a price on his head. James will certainly jump at the opportunity to find and shoot new and interesting beasties. Jacob'll get a chance to play with his artifacts some more, God save us all. The only one who might take some convincing is probably Christya."
"You know what Derrick, you're right! It's time I got off my fat ass and made something happen! This is my ship damn it, It's time I start acting like it was! I'm going to to make an announcement right away, you plan a course for Oregon."
With that, Preston hurtled through the halls towards the ship wide broadcaster. A few moments later however Preston dashed back to Derrick and told him they would probably want to stop in for supplies on the way to Oregon and to include that in his course plan. He then launched himself back through the hallways and reached the PA system. He pulled the microphone to his lips and addressed the crew:
- *crackle* *crackle* "attention crew, I am intending to make a course alteration after passing through this slipknot. Would Jett, James, Jacob, Derrick, and Christya please report to the renaissance-themed smoking room for a briefing on my intentions. Again, that's the renaissance-themed smoking room which is across from the secondary ball room. Please make your way there as soon as possible." *pop* *crackle*
Preston then strode happily towards the renaissance-themed smoking room.
[edit] In The Smoking Room
As the last of the crew made themselves comfortable in the smoking room Preston began explaining his intentions:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we have lost focus in our escapades which has made us many enemies in this system. I propose we investigate the theory that there is a new slip route in the Oregon system. It will get us further from those who might harm us and holds the potential to be extremely profitable as well as a prestigious scientific discovery. I don't know what lay beyond this potential new slip stream but this crew has proved that it has the kind on unrelenting determination that can overcome any obstacle. Who is with me?"
Derrick listened attentively to Preston's impassioned call to adventure. Truth be told, he wasn't really thrilled with the prospect of jumping off into the unknown, but it sure beat being hunted down by the Tombstone mob government, or thrown into some Arestonian jail.
Nodding along with Preston, Derrick tried to pretend this mission hadn't been his idea, and surreptitiously looked around the room to gauge the others' reactions.
Christya smiled superciliously. "I wouldn't worry too much about Simon. We've made some friends here, not foes. The last thing Simon wants is for us to get done for this, since we've got history with him, both near and far, and he's always been good about paying favours. Sure, it's best to let things cool off for a bit, but he's doing one of the classic 'I won't rest until I find the real killers.' thing. It's his easiest bet to try and quiet those who are going to say it was him. They'll still say it, of course, but more quietly, and that's all he's after. If we come back here in a few weeks he'll have found a couple of random chumps to take the fall."
She glanced, with an almost impercievable flicker of concern over at the video screen where the injured and resting Jett was being monitored. "And there's really no need to think about covering trail by silencing people. Or to take any really drastic steps, like flinging ourselves into the back end of beyond after some nonsense that probably doesn't even exist."
She shrugged. "We made a bunch of cash from that nonsense, and there's a few boys on the pleasure planet who promised to take me out for a kind of cake that makes you thinner. Plus Martina Cinnana is on world, and doesn't a couple of weeks partying it up with our ill-gotten gains sound more appealing than putting around the tail end of space waiting to get sucked into the void?"
Jacob looked around nervously. Oregon was well-known for its chaotic gravitational dynamics. Some experts had theorized that this sort of phenomenon might affect the operation of the system's slipknots, and Jacob didn't even want to think about what might happen if he brought an active Dead Star artifact to Oregon. "Gee, Oregon, huh? And a new slipknot? Uh... that sounds exciting, Preston but, uh... what are we expecting to get out of this exactly?"
"Friends," Preston said, "we are talking about a new slip stream! It could lead to any number of planets, each with the potential for untold fortune! We can claim the natural resources of the under developed planets, we can cultivate trade with developed ones! We can even claim the route as our own and charge a toll for its use! We will be heroes and inspirations to the academic and economic spheres! We will be in textbooks for the rest of eternity! And besides, I know the cake you're talking about and it's full of parasites. What do you say? Let's make history!"
Amid the murmured discussion and arguments in the room, Derrick cleared his throat. "I should point out that we'll be arriving at the slipknot pretty soon. We need to decide whether we're going to Viagra or to Oregon."
[edit] Border Control
As if in response to Derrick's concerns, his belt-mounted communicator crackled to life. The ship-to-ship channel, routed through the communicator, started repeating a recorded message, cycling through various Tombstone languages and a few from Viagra and Halogia:
"You are approaching the Tombstone exit gate, with passage to Viagra, Halogia, Zana and Oregon. Please approach a border control station before proceeding to the jump zone. Plisiázete tin pýli apó tin Tafóplaka..."
Time had almost run out -- the Tombstone border station was very close, and the guards would want to be told a destination.
Derrick, startled by the sudden noise coming from his waist, nearly fell off the leatherene ottoman he had been sitting on. He stood up and peered out one of the forward portholes, decorated to look like a hinged glass-paned window with shutters. The border control station glinted dully in the void, looking at this distance like a fleck of grey paint on the window. Derrick grimaced.
"Damnit, only three hours to docking time. I need to go run some approach protocols. Some time in the next hour they're going to want a response from us, so when you all work out what you want me to tell them you just let me know."
Muttering imprecations to himself about having lost track of time, Derrick paced out of the smoking room, letting the paneled door swing closed behind him.
Preston watched Derrick leave and turned to the rest of the gathered crew. "Well I think it makes sense that we go to Viagra to stock up on supplies and spend some leisure time then the Efferdhal Lily will be headed for Orion."
[edit] Jett's cabin
The shifts in ship gravity caused by the Lily's approach sequence jarred Jett out of his stupor.
He had been lying fully clothed on his bed trying not to aggravate his cracked ribs or broken nose, for what seemed like an eternity. The ship's automated pharmacist, dragged from the sick bay despite electronic objections, had long since cut off his supply of space morphine but dutily injected Jett with glucose each time he pressed the painkiller-dose button.
Spaceböss was dead. The man had been both father and mentor to him; both God and Devil. Taught him how to escape the bonds of indentured servitude that was his birthright, then vowed to murder him when he applied those lessons to escape from under Olaf's thumb. To Jett the child, Olaf Spaceboss had seemed to control the entirety of known space. Everyone knew him, and everyone feared him. He had done as he pleased, first in the asteroid mines, and then later in the entire Tombstonian system.
Under his tutelage, Jett had had those advantages as well. He had been privy to Spaceboss's machinations, and despite his limited capacity for understanding the intricacies of political maneouvering he had seen one opportunity, and taken it. It had cost him everything, but granted him his precious fusion gun. He would never be the successor Spaceboss had wanted, but with the fusion gun strapped to his back Jett finally had the power to control his own destiny.
Spaceboss was dead. Jett had numbed himself to the guilt of betraying the man who had plucked him from the ventilation shafts long ago, but this all came flooding back. Yet there was a new optimism. He and his gun, along with this crew, had destroyed the man who had hunted Jett across the seven systems. No other obstacle seemed to compare. Nothing could stop him, or his gun. Nothing in the seven systems.
He checked the readout on the automated pharmacist. He hadn't been given an actual drug in hours. He dialed the fusion gun to minimal setting, and blew the cpu out of the machine. He reached into the charred wreck, pulled out a half-dozen plastic vials, and headed to the bridge.
[edit] On the bridge
Jett staggered onto the bridge, light-headed from the dose of polydopamide he had taken on the way up. Derrick was the only other person there, hunched over his console, its bluish lights making him look sickly as he worked. Derrick was entering flight path protocols, data that the computers turned into flight vectors and deceleration schedules. The drive controls then worked to bring the ship to a gentle halt at a constant rate of 1G, without wasting any precious reaction mass.
The forward sensor display was set to show visible light readings, amplified and enlarged. In the middle of the screen, kept seemingly motionless there by some trick the computer had of changing enlargement factors as the ship approached, was a border control station exactly like the one the Lily had stopped at on the way into the system. A readout on the same screen showed that the distance to the station was only .397 Gigametres, and that arrival was only about two and a half hours away.
Even enhanced by the ship's sensor array, there wasn't a great deal of light illuminating the station out at 5 AU. The docking bays and the airlock hatches were painted with highly reflective lines, making it easier for ships to pull up, even unassisted by light enhancement. It was a testament to the newness of the station that these lines were still fully visible. Any such setup Jett had seen elsewhere had been extensively marred by past dockings. Every inexpert, drunk or just plain unlucky pilot to miss their mark by a few seconds of a degree would leave a deep gouge in the painted lines visible to every subsequent traveler as an ugly dark scrape. Well-used stations tended to have only light dustings of reflective paint on their docking bays, all that was left of their painted stripes after years of scrapes, dings and dents.
Over the hum of the air scrubbers, Jett could make out a faint voice. A recording was being played over the bridge speakers, turned down to very low volume:
"...y despues continuar a suestra destinación. You are approaching the Tombstone exit gate, with passage to Viagra, Halogia, Zana and Oregon. Please approach a border control station before proceeding to the jump zone. Plisiázete tin pýli..."
"These guys again?" Jett Miner mumbled, mostly to himself.
The symbol of law and order gleaming on the screen created an unpleasant dissonance in Jett's mind; Tombstone had fought on all fronts against these Space-damned things.
Derrick didn't look up from his console. "We're hatching a plan to test recent theories about there being completely new, unknown star systems. We're ultimately headed to Oregon, but the crew is still deciding whether to go to Viagra first to restock. Right now, though, we're preparing to deal with the border patrol."
Jett's brows furrowed. "Hmm? Oh, that shouldn't be a problem, right? James can throw up a false identity and we can get out of here no problem. Just enough to throw the scent off and get lost in the paperwork shuffle. We know the new 'President' won't be looking too hard for us. He probably has some underboss already picked out to take the fall."
"Yeah, that sounds reasonable..." Derrick's mind was on docking sequences, but he didn't sound convinced it would be that simple.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I'll get my gun."
Jett strapped his Fusion gun to an EVA suit, and headed toward the airlock. He planned to hang on just outside the ship, so that his presence (still probably listed as a wanted fugitive, despite the regime change) didn't cause undue friction at the station. And to prepare for a surprise rescue operation should things go sideways.
James muttered, "Brave new world with such people in it."
He scratched his head and mused out loud, "Maybe I have political murder regret or something, but I don't want to do that again anytime soon. Killing a Titan Bear and getting a flock of Rocs to replace it seems like a bad trade, even if the Rocs promise to not tear your liver out. Such is life in the destabilizing the feeding order in a vaccum pit.
"Oh yeah. What ID are we using? Should we leave with the ID of Spaceboss' Revenge?"
Slouching slowly towards the Electronic Warfare console James sat down to change the IFF of the Efferdhal Lily. He danced his fingers over the holo-keyboard in a tune that sounded vaguely like Lito's 6D Piano concerto. That or a particularly bawdy bar tune heard on Erewhon. He was half way through the change when he realized that the IFF he was changing to was something along the lines of "Suck Vacuum Rockheads" Pulling his head out of his half remembered dream his Data Troubleshooter tendencies took over and the IFF was massaged back to being something not quite so offensive to the locals.
Jett, in his EVA suit and magnetized to the hull, heard the squeal of electronic signals sent by Derrick to the border control station before he switched to a closed channel. Speaking slowly to the rest of the crew, he explained his circumstances:
"I'm right outside the port airlock, in an EVA. I have my Fusion gun with me. I don't want them to find me, because I'm probably still flagged as a fugitive or terrorist or whatever. Hopefully, everything goes great, and we're on our way in an hour. If not, use the codeword 'Sideways' and I'll re-enter the ship with gun charged."
Having delivered his message, Jett attempted to hide as best he could from the routine sensor sweeps that would be run on the ship's hull.
"You're what?" James said slowly to the com. "I think you need to come inside in case they start hucking their equivalent of rocks and mud in space."
Jett waited, stuck to the side of the ship, his hand ready by the fusion gun's controls. As the tension of the moment grew, Jett got more and more fidgety. His hands, which often seemed to have a mind of their own, got just slightly too Trigger Happy, and flipped on the "warmup" switch on the gun's proton pack. James was immediately drowned out by a ship-wide klaxon that turned everyone's veins to ice. More viscerally gut-wrenching than a siren, even more bone-chilling than a decompression alert, the sound of a nuclear proximity alarm was well-known -- and rightly feared -- by the inhabitants of every system in the cluster.
Derrick's voice cam shrieking over the ship-wide comms, clearly audible despite the klaxon: "Holy shit, why is the nuke bell going off? Jett, is that your fucking gun? Turn it off before they decide we're here to bomb them!"
Jett's eyes snapped back into focus, the shock of the horrible noise breaking the hypnotic sound of his own breathing. It took him a moment to recognize the nature of the alarm. It took a few more to realize what was causing it. Derrick's gentle cajoling helped.
"Wha..."
Sobering at an alarming rate, he realized the proton accelerator in his fusion reactor had been charged. He immediately pulled the emergency shut-off rip-cord and watched the heat and gases discharge away from him into space. Only then did he remember to exhale.
"Space christ, sorry..." he murmured over the comm.
Derrick's voice came over the comms. "Okay, everyone, we're on our final approach. Brace for micro-G, and pray to whatever you worship that they didn't spot our little nuclear accident back there."
Jett was sweating from the sudden stress of the situation, but the pain-killers still in his system kept him otherwise calm and pleasantly comfortable. "Hey, uh, James... Anything you can do to maybe, fix that little glitch we had on their scanners?"
The Efferdhal Lily stopped decelerating toward the Tombstone border control station when it reached a distance of a million metres. In the smoking room, the flames of the candles by the window shrunk and dimmed, until they were small blue globes. The now-familiar lurch of weightlessness washed over the crew.
Derrick turned on the ship's transponder, broadcasting a ship ID and verification code manufactured by James. Half a minute later, a voice came over the comm from the station.
"Arestonian vessel Dawn Skipper, this is Border Control 6. Please approach docking bay five. We're having difficulty finding your arrival records so there may be a slight delay. We apologize for the inconvenience.
"By the way, we detected what might be a leak in your heat vents. If you need assistance there is a mechanic on staff who can repair it for a reasonable price."
Derrick tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "Thank you, Border Control 6. Approaching docking bay five. And no thanks, the leak is under control."
Derrick switched off the external comms and spoke into the ship-wide system. "Uh, guys? Did you hear that? We might have a problem here. James, can you do anything about this?"
After another few seconds the voice from the station came back on, sounding hesitant and a little confused. "Um... Arestonian vessel Dawn Skipper, forget about our earlier instructions. You are cleared to proceed to the slipknot. Thank you for visiting Tombstone, and have a nice day."
Derrick paused. Why did they suddenly change their minds? Well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Roger, Border Control 6. Proceeding to jump point." The sudden course change sent loose objects and crew members drifting gently across the cabin. The ship comms clicked on again. "Not to count chickens, but James, whatever you did, good fucking job."
"Huh? Who me?" James looked startled. "Sorry I zoned out there." James thought to himself. "I really hope this slipknot goes somewhere."
Exhaling long and slow, Jett popped the airlock and climbed back into the Lily. Untangling himself from the EVA, he headed back to his room. His head was killing him.
The airlock hissed shut behind Jett, and Derrick kicked the Lily up to 0.25G for the approach to the slipknot. "Lady and gentlemen, we will be reaching our jump zone in just a few minutes. Please make sure all arms and heads are inside the vehicle at all times, and will someone please sit on Ogilvy so he doesn't try to get us stuck in limbo again?"
"Hey! I was conducting legitimate science that time!"
"Science that has a chance to kill us all is not science but tomfoolery of the highest calibre." James responded over the com. "While death is the great adventure it precludes any further adventuring on account of death."
[edit] Pit stop in Viagra
While the others were bickering, Derrick brought the Lily to a stop in the jump zone and completed the jump. Now that they weren't fooling around with dangerous toys, there was no apparent transition from one system to the next. Derrick flipped a switch and the stars changed back to the familiar patterns of his childhood.
Derrick checked the ship's vectors and switched on the heatsink extenders. Over the whirring of the mechanism, his voice came over the comms: "Welcome to Viagra, folks. We'll be back up to 1G momentarily; course corrections should be done by this afternoon and then we'll be on our way into the system."
Jett sat in his room, recalibrating his Fusion Gun. It had begun out of concern that a technical problem was to blame for the mishap at the border control station, but his mind has wandered since then. He was likely becoming clinically obsessive. He searched for contacts he might be able to talk to on Viagra. He was thinking of snagging some weaponry or armour before setting off into the unknown. He realized, however, that every time he had been to Viagra he had ended up running or fighting for his life. His list of friends had never been long, and it seemed to get shorter all the time.
Preston quickly got to work organizing what he thought they would need for an expedition into the unknown. He first began filling out all of the forms he knew were necessary to apply for a research grant from the university and sending them to people who could fast-track it. Then he put his mind to authoring a list of supplies they would need to go where no man has gone before. The first thing that came to mind was rope, so he wrote that down and continued from there:
- Rope
- oxygen reserve
- science probes
- Space Twinkies (for trade)
- rations
- portable communications devices
- space suits
- weapons (to shoot guys)
- towels
- radiation proof cases (for samples)
- medical supplies
- toothbrush
feeling unsure his list was complete he decided to email the list to the rest of the crew to see if they had anything to add.
To: Preston Feckless Wilkinson From: Jett Miner Subject: Re: Any suggestions on required equipment for our expedition? A hevvy cargo EVA or exo-skeleton. Good for salvage caves construction heavy lifting. My gun is good, but mabe some armor? or smaller guns. Fusions hard to use up close. - JM --ORIGINAL MESSAGE-- >>To: Crew (click for complete list) >>From: Preston Feckless Wilkinson >>Subject: Any suggestions on required equipment for our expedition? >>Hello employees! We are about to dock in Viagra and begin outfitting for our >>glorious expedition into the unknown! I am currently putting together a list >>of required equipment (see attached). If you have any suggestions or >>additions, please don't hesitate to let me know! >>- PFW
To: Crew (click for complete list) From: Preston Feckless Wilkinson Subject: Any suggestions on required equipment for our expedition? Here is a revised list of desired materials: * Rope * oxygen reserve * science probes * space Twinkies (for trade) * rations * portable communications devices * space suits * weapons (to shoot guys) (also maybe some smaller guns for close up) * towels * radiation proof cases (for samples) * medical supplies * toothbrush * heavy cargo EVA * Armor * bug spray (you never know)
Christya sighed heavily. "Well, I guess we're venturing as far from decent restaurants as possible. God, will they even think to bring extra fuel or whatever-it-is that this bucket uses? Who knows if they have anything we can use on the other side of this possibly fictious slipknot... if there is even a 'they' there. Well, I'm sure the ship running-types have that stuff well in hand... perhaps I'll head down to the sauna." She realised suddenly that she had been saying her train of thought out loud, a terrible habit for someone in her line of... well, work, for lack of a better word. It must be the stress, and frustration. She'd never had the aftermath of a job feel so grim, and so wearing.
[edit] Viagra 7g
Derrick maneuvered the Efferdhal Lily into one of countless docking bays in synchronous orbit around the planet known as V7g. V7g was small as planets went, only big enough for about 0.4 standard gravity, but compared to Tombstone, where there was no planetary gravity greater than 0.01G, this would be a welcome change.
Thousands of ships teemed around this waystation, refueling, performing maintenance or just allowing their crews a short rest before continuing on to their destinations. Most were cargo trucks, their drive/control modules dwarfed by the vast hexagonal cargo compartments honeycombed together. Here and there a relatively tiny transport ship was visible among the hulking cargo vessels. Some of these were bringing workers down-system to the inner planets or the epsilon ring mines, or out to the further reaches of the system.
There were not many inter-system ships arriving this far out in the ecliptic. V7g and the smaller planetoids in the system's 7-ring were significantly further out than the refueling station on V2, and so represented a wider detour for ships travelling from slipknot to slipknot. However, this was a very busy stopover for traffic within the system, and so Derrick's landing here was calculated to escape notice, even though he was flying a shiny Arestonian ship among a shipyard of grimy, dusty Viagran rigs.
The dock robots secured the Efferdhal Lily to the bay, and sent a refueling request to the maintenance system. The high-grade reaction mass used to power a ship like the Lily was an order of magnitude more expensive than the less-refined fuel the Viagran ships used, but Preston's credit was always good. While the refueling and other routine maintenance tasks started, the crew took a shuttle down to the surface.
The automated orbital shuttles could be seen flying constantly to and from the surface. There were so many that from a distance it looked like there was a translucent disc filling the space between V7g and its ring-shaped network of orbital docking stations. Up close, the well-ordered mesh of ascending and descending ships was no less impressive. The 400-kilometre trip to the surface took less than an hour, depositing the crew in the middle of a city seemingly dominated by businesses catering to travelers.
Weary from the stress of the events in Tombstone and happy to be anonymous again, at least for a little while, the crew members separated, each looking for their own personal reprieve.
[edit] Interlude: Nightfall on the 7-ring
Night out at the Viagra 7 ring was less a natural phenomenon than a general consensus. For one thing, the sun shed less light out there than some planetary moons reflected in the inner system. For another, the nearby planetoids reflected enough light from all directions that from one point in a planet's rotation to another there was not enough of a difference in light levels to matter much. So, for eight hours of every twenty-four, the city lights dimmed, cross-town transport slowed and the population collectively agreed that it was nighttime.
In the orbital shipyards, the Efferdhal Lily sat in its moorings, surrounded by humming maintenance bots. The ship was empty, her lights all dark. A security guard was making her rounds, riding a micro-G skooter through the restricted areas of the maintenance bays. Most of the crew had left before her shift had started, and she watched the last of the crew members leaving by the public corridors, each obviously with something on their mind.
Jett barely seemed to even notice his surroundings as he drifted out of the ship and down the public corridor toward the shuttles. On the way he passed by the access door to the restricted area where the security guard was watching. Jett squinted to read her ID tag and giggled. "Your name is 'Erika Hose'?" He bounced off a wall once, letting out another little giggle. Somehow, despite his apparent distraction, Hose got the impression he had somewhere important to be.
Christya seemed extremely preoccupied. She was looking longingly at something on her data tablet as she went and nearly floated head-first into another customer. Christya frowned, then flashed a disarming smile as an apology before grabbing one of the conveyor straps running along the wall. These were provided to travelers who weren't used to moving around in micro-G, and ran between the surface shuttle bay and all maintenance bay junctions. Once Christya had a good grip on one she immersed herself in the data tablet for the short trip to the shuttle.
Derrick and Preston were the last to go. Preston had given Hose a tip to keep an extra eye on his ship, so she had one of the security feeds in the control booth fixed on the Lily rather than cycling through all the bays. Now Preston was quite animated, rattling off long lists of supplies to Derrick which seemed to get amended every few seconds.
Derrick was obviously not paying any attention, which didn't seem to bother Preston. Instead he was staring off into the distance, occasionally muttering "uh-huh" or "sure, Preston." Hose noticed that one of Derrick's hands never left the duffel bag anchored to his belt and her eyebrows furrowed. She ran a density analysis on the bag, but there was no indication of any unregistered weapons or explosives. Anyway, that would have been picked up at the first security checkpoint. Hose shrugged to herself. This was probably some incarnation of Derrick's insanity — no reason he would be any less crazy than the rest of the crew.
Hose finished her patrol circuit and settled into the office. She set a half-hour wakeup timer and sat back for a quick nap. Her eyes were heavily shut when the video feed on the Efferdhal Lily flickered almost imperceptibly, and started replaying the last few minutes of footage. An entry appeared in the live security log, indicating that access airlock 5 had been opened. Almost immediately, the log entry disappeared. Ten minutes later a similar log entry appeared and vanished. The video feed flickered again and resumed its live recording.
Hose woke up when her alarm buzzed, and quickly took stock of the station status. Refueling was nearly finished on the Vulcan Wallop in bay 18. One of the secondary docking clamps in bay 10 had come unmoored from the Mach Infinity. They still haven't fixed that clamp? thought Hose. She checking the Lily's feed and everything was normal except for a slight heat signature on the access airlock. Had it been opened recently? The bay 5 access logs had no activity recorded. The ship must have outgassed or something. Who the hell knew what corners were cut on these dinky Arestonian ships; maybe leaking heat was normal for them. Hose stretched, stood up and headed out for her next patrol circuit.
[edit] Shore Leave: Preston
Preston added fuel to his list and having sent out his research grant application went to cess out the cost of his expedition goods.
After a successful evening of bartering and haggling Preston was confident he had tracked down all the goods they needed for the expedition. Pleased, he walked back to the docking station and looked up at his good old Lily. He hoped she was up for the journey, if only this wasn't a system filled with hairy cavemen he might have gotten some upgrades for her... With that thought he decided to retire to the cantina for the night, some OJ and sprite would really hit the spot after a day of productivity =)
Preston headed back to the Lily eager to get on with this thrilling adventure. Humming a cheery tune he boarded the Lily and entered his office and rechecked all the paperwork and preparations he had made, hoping the others would be back soon...
[edit] Side Story: Careful What You Wish For, starring Jett Miner
Muttering something about meeting some contacts, Jett wandered off in search of a source of drugs. Fingering the small collection of spacebucks in his pocket, he hoped the prices were lower on a trading hub like this. He hit up a number of the grimier drinking holes on 7g. He was having quite a hard time scaring up a score, but after a few tries and some nearly-violent altercations he had found himself led into a dimly lit vertical tunnel bored right into the rock of the planetoid. The sustained gravity of the trip and now the planet was making his bones strain and ache, and his joints ground and creaked when he moved.
Growing up in Tombstone with little or no gravity had made him sensitive planetary gravity but these symptoms were amplified by his withdrawal from the drugs stolen from the auto-pharmacist.
As he massaged the 'derm onto his wrist he sank deeply into the filthy feather bed he had been led to, and he felt weightless again.
A small area at the back of his mind hoped that he would be able to find his way back to the Lily when he woke up...
Jett's eyes shot open, his heart racing. How long had he slept? His back ached; he had been lying twisted on a one-inch slab of scrap steel. Its jagged edges sliced his hand as he jerked upright.
Jett looked around. He had no recollection of where he was or how he had got here. Far below him dozens of heavy lifters and cargo-hovers were criss-crossing a landing port. He was in the half-finished superstructure of some command-and-control tower, where the workers had rigged together a three-walled room where they could get stoned on their off-hours. The only light came through the open wall, floods reflected from the tarmac below.
A half-dozen figures were asleep around Jett, so he carefully got to his feet and moved towards the service elevator. 'Derms were pasted all down his forearms, including a time-delayed upper. Maybe he hadn't slept as long as he thought.
"Wake up early and sneak out without paying, huh, punk?" A voice, more amused than angry, from behind him. Jett spun on his heel, his heart racing and his eyes wild with fear and adrenaline. A coiled turd of a man faced him.
"No, no, no, I'm good for it. 'Course I am. How much was it again?" Jett reached to his cred chit and thumbed it active; it showed a zero balance. That was impossible. There was no way his score from the Spaceboss job was gone already. Panic struck Jett as he saw the silhouette of a laser blaster strapped to the man's hip.
"Yeah, that's what I figured. You owe..."
Jett threw his credit chit at the man's head and leapt at him. Caught off-guard, the man dropped, and Jett's amphetamine-fueled fists came down hard on his nose.
The two other enforcers in the room now moved into position, plucked Jett off of their friend and tossed him towards the open wall. They weren't concerned about Jett paying at all. He had paid upfront, of course. This was a minor shakedown that had become far too troublesome.
A solid kick to Jett's abdomen nearly sent him over the edge. One leg dangled over a 40 story drop to the landing port below.
"Get him..." the turd with the broken nose choked out, and the enforcers sent Jett for a flight.
Jett fell heavily onto the steel girder 3 metres below, and hung on for dear life. He listened, but the men above him seemed to have considered the matter closed. It was going to be a long, slow climb down.
Maybe I should have stayed in the ship, Jett thought.
[edit] Side story: The Zanan Refugees, starring James Trevelyan
Disembarking quickly James moved with purpose to the nearest electronic depot with hopes to pick up some more hacking gear in hope that there would be things to hack in the new system.
The various security aerostats flickered as James walked slowly down the hall fiddling with a wrist mounted control panel. Draped in a greyish cloak and hunched in thought he seemed more like a refugee than a soldier from Erewhon.
"Excellent," he thought. "The image overlay broadcast from this cloak has a .001 second delay, outside of the tolerance for human visual acuity. Now just to adjust the heat dissapa...."
His thoughts were quickly interrupted by a woman fleeing down the hall. She struck him in the shoulder and both of them fell to the ground. The cloak lost its grey colour and turned a mottled black and white.
"Hey, watch where you're," he looked at the woman who didn't stop stunned for long. Quickly she picked herself up and continued to flee down the hall. He flicked a tracking bug onto her jacket as she left. Several moments later four burly men in Viagran customs uniforms ran up and past him chasing the woman who had fled. Sensing something a foot he followed.
James followed the woman into a bar in the lowest levels of the station that still had atmo. He grabbed a what passed for a drink in this place and sidled up to her at the booth she hid in.
"Its somewhat rude to crash into someone without apologizing you know?" She looked startled and moved to draw a weapon. "Woah, woah, relax. I'm not here with those custom guys. What's going on? Maybe I can help."
She looked at him nervously. "I... I... Oh god they're going to take my ship." The woman, Miriam recounted her situation where due to a oddity in her ship registry which was originally from Zana that it had to be seized. "Normally this would be an administrative issue that could be solved quickly but my crew and I are political refugees from Zana, and if we were to be found here we would be deported back to Zana to stand trial and probably be executed!"
Miram was a kindly soul and someone he felt obliged to protect. Her sad eyes and crooked smile convinced James that it would be a good night's diversion to help her hack her ship out of impound so that her and her crew could get on to Areston and apply for refugee status. She gave him her hat, a small black beret as a retainer for his services.
Through the night James worked to free the ship Endless Breezes from the station impound yard. The situation broke down into a firefight with him and Miriam holding the entry port for the ship against customs agents as the old ship ponderously left the station only to be shot down by the station defense systems. Miriam was shot and died in his arms and as the customs agents later explained to him that Miriam was actually a smuggler of post collapse artifacts out of Halogia. After more queries from his tracking programs he also found out that the security guards involved in the firefight were attempting to steal the artifacts that Miriam had on her.
He disabled the jail cell's recording devices and walked out with their faces burning in his mind. He tracked the four corrupt agents down and gunned them down with his invisible pistol savouring how the last one begged for mercy proffering the small black book shaped device that they had gotten off her corpse. He took it and emptied his clip into the last guard.
Throwing their bodies into and airlock and sending them out into space he pondered what he had done. Shrugging he walked slowly back to the Lilly the small black beret in his pocket and the black book shaped device hidde in a bag. The security aerostat feeds imperceptibly flickering as he went by.
[edit] Side story: An Old Friend, starring Derick Phezir
Derrick looked over the maintenance quote from the dockmaster's office. Grumbling to himself about getting the crew to take better care of his ship, he eventually signed the work order and messaged Preston.
"The repairs are coming in under budget, but only just. If we keep doing this daredevil shit you're going to be spending a lot of time on your knees to make ends meet. Anyway, see you in twenty-four hours for the inspection."
Derrick thumbed open the lock on the bottom drawer of his desk. A glass bottle lay there, as empty as it had been for a year. Derrick held it up to his desk lamp, admiring the thin golden sheen left by its former contents. He pulled out the stopper and inhaled the now-faint smell of the Viagran sour mash bourbon that was his only friend and ally for so many years.
"I can't believe I actually suggested this rotting mission." Derrick stoppered the bottle and started to put it back, then paused.
After two hours of shopping around for various supplies together, Derrick was worn out. Preston had spent the whole time cheerily popping in and out of various specialty stores, pulling things off the shelves and asking irrelevant questions about them, then strolling off to leave Derrick with the tasks of making sure the items were suitable for their purposes and compatible with their existing equipment, paying for them, and arranging for delivery to the ship. Then, once that was done, Derrick had to go back out into the street and guess which store Preston had popped into next.
When Preston finally announced that he had obtained all the items on his list, Derrick was relieved. He stopped in front of a bar full of patrons cheering at a screen showing the goanna-pulling semifinals. "Hey Preston, let's have a night out. A night of fun and relaxation before heading into the unknown, right?" But Preston wasn't paying attention. Humming the Captain Colonialism theme song and stabbing his finger at his data slate, he dismissed Derrick with some mumbled excuse about paperwork and continued on toward the shuttles.
Derrick glared after him. His hand drifted into his duffel bag, where the empty bourbon bottle clinked against a newly-purchased coil of optical patch cables. A cheer erupted from the bar as the local favourite won another pull, and Derrick stepped inside. If he was going to go haring off into the void, he would at least get a good drunk on first.
[edit] The morning after
Preston had finished the last of his paperwork and most of the crew still had not returned the ship. Determined not to let his comrade's tardiness keep him down he made himself some tea, opened a box of biscuits and sat down to watch his favorite situation comedy. Yup, Preston's life was finally the thrilling and dangerous epic he had always imagined, and he was glad his comrades were enjoying the luxury of tame civilization one last time before they set off into the great unknown.
It was mid-morning by the time Jett finally staggered back into the Lily. He limped painfully into the main living quarters. There sat Preston in his robe casually skimming the news feeds and sipping tea out of a garishly coloured mug, the remnants of his three-course breakfast arrayed about the table.
"Ah, glad to see you back in one piece! We set sail for adventure today!" Each of Preston's words felt like a new shard of glass pressed into Jett's parietal lobe. With great effort Jett focused his sunken and heavily shadowed eyes on the painfully colourful Preston. No hint of irony could be detected in Preston's beaming smile; he genuinely wished to share his excitement for the adventure ahead.
"I..." He didn't know what to say, how to explain what had happened to him, or why. "I'm gonna go lie down."Jett stumbled into his quarters and collapsed.
Preston sniffed. "What a gloomy goose..."
James shuffled into the Lily sometime in the morning after Jett returned. In his hands was a large crate filled with bottles and topped with a beret and black box like device. He moved into the entertainment room and swept a table clean of whatever would now be debris. Setting his crate of whiskey down he waved over a video feed and set it to scan local news feeds. Offhandedly he programmed a virus to alter all mentions of a "ghost" to "Fire Yeti". He lay both his assault rifle and the handy small firearm that almost bankrupted him beside him and began to drink and study.
Preston had just gotten up to greet his friend who had entered the ship when his pager went off. The engineer he had hired to upgrade the lily had finished his work and wanted the rest of his payment. Preston met the man and ran a systems check, after everything checked out Preston transfered the agreed upon number of credits to the man.
Preston thanked the man for his work. It had been difficult to find a man capable to working Arestonian technology but Preston had tracked him down. He had been exiled for some reason or another, then had been pardoned but the paper work on the pardon had been stalled by whoever he must have pissed off. Preston got it back on track. The man could have charged Preston a lot more but the value of credits was nothing compared to that of returning home. Following that logic Preston knew he was getting ripped off but he was a giving man.
[edit] Side story: Jessie Eynon
Jessie Eynon had reconciled himself to the apparently inescapable fact that he was stuck on Viagra. He had been spending his time tinkering around with the primitive slipdrives that Viagrans used. His hands and forearms were developing dark stains from the dirty silicon-based lubricant all Viagran vehicles used, stains which never quite completely washed out. And he was getting really annoyed with the sheer number of Viagrans who wanted stupid photoreactive decals put on the outsides of their cabs or custom transponders with dirty words embedded in their ID codes.
So when an upper-crust Arestonian strolled into the machine shop where Jessie worked and asked if anyone knew how to upgrade an Arestonian Yacht's radiators, Jessie jumped at the opportunity. The Efferdhal Lily was swanky as hell, and she already carried one of the most sophisticated heat-dissipation systems on the market. With the huge pile of money the owner paid as a down payment, Jessie got together a team of coworkers to do a rush job. They tuned up the system so that the heat foils were deployed 5% faster, and Jessie added fractal convolutions to the outer foils, increasing their heat dissipation by a factor of at least 0.6, if not closer to 1. In an Arestonian shop he could have gotten really close to the maximum theoretical factor of root 2, but here...
Then the Arestonian, Wilkinson, did something that surprised Jessie. They had been chatting, and Jessie had been telling Wilkinson about his visa problems, just like he told everyone who listened, these days. Wilkinson took out a data slate, asked Jessie how to spell his full name, and wrote a short email. He claimed to have an uncle in the department of citizenship affairs, and that in 100 minutes his message would arrive and the ball would start rolling. Pretty soon, Wilkinson said, Jessie would be welcomed back to Areston Prime with open arms.
Jessie was floored, and more than a little skeptical. Even if this guy was full of hot air, just the gesture was touching. "You'll see, Mister Wilkinson, we'll treat your ship real nice. Even get those defense upgrades you wanted. You'll be ready to go first thing tomorrow morning, maybe even earlier." Jessie winked and hurried back to work, compiling a mental list of extra people he could bring in on the job to get the defense features installed properly.
[edit] Jett goes shopping
Jett nodded absent-mindedly while Preston pontificated about financial this and diversified that. Jett only knew two things about money: Some people had lots, and he wasn't some people.
Jett's credit chit had been completely wiped making a down-payment on a shiny jet-suit that had caught his eye while he stumbled about stoned on the causeway last night. The delivery arrived in the afternoon, but they expected to run a thorough credit check before they handed over the suit.
Jett didn't know how, but he had convinced Preston to charge it to his ample credit line. Of course Preston expected every penny of it back, but it gave Jett some breathing room.
Jett got his shiny new Viagran Advanced Recon Jumpsuit MkII back to the Lily and tried it on for the first time. The built-in life support systems tightened to form a snug fit and instantly Jett's chest exploded with pain. He doubled over, wheezing, and the contortions made the pain even worse. Lights flashing behind his eyelids, his knees going numb, Jett realized that without proper medical attention those broken ribs would keep him from doing anything with his new suit. But doctors were expensive, and the first aid training of some of the crew just wasn't enough.
Remembering some of the more detailed financial advice he had meant to give Jett, Preston set off to find him. Preston heard the sound of agonized wheezing and broke into a run. He turned the corner and saw Jett on the ground clutching his torso.
Preston assumed Jett had been mugged as soon as he left his office (typical...) but then he noticed the ritzy suit Jett was sporting. "This is why you needed the money!? You told me you needed several organ transplants to save your life!" Preston ordered a ship staff to help Jett up, it was apparent that Jett would need real medical attention. "Well now maybe you WILL need surgery... Common, I'll pay for you because I want to get going already but gosh darn it Jett, You REALLY owe me."
Jett woke up in the Lily's sickbay, his torso inexpertly strapped into a medical brace. He was in excruciating pain. A medical orderly moved about, but Jett had a hard time focussing his eyes. "Looks like I'll need to make some adjustments to the suit." he choked out. "Should be ready by morning..."
Consciousness slipped away again.
[edit] A new face
- Newsfeed: "We investigate a cargo hauler that is allegedly haunted by the Fire Yeti of the man who died inside during routine maintenance. Details at eleven."
James looked up at the newsfeed and shrugged mildly. "Really should have tuned the parameters of that virus more carefully." As he looked up the black box like device was jostled and fell between his sensor cloak and his assault rifle, which vanished.
Touching the weapon to make sure it was stil there James summoned a flock of sensor ladened aerostats to scan the space where his rifle lay cloaked. "Hmm, optical, thermal and electronic cloaking, interesting..." his eyes fell on his cloak.
Derrick had missed the morning inspection, and was nowhere to be found at lunchtime. By nightfall some of the crew was getting worried. Finally James, tinkering away at his workbench, ducked his head under a table to retrieve a dropped screw, and saw that what he had taken to be a pile of dirty work clothes was in fact Derrick, fast asleep under a drop cloth. James was sure he'd seen the pile that morning -- had Derrick been there all day?
James nudged Derrick with his foot. Derrick sat bolt upright, hand shading his eyes. He looked at James and shouted, "what the hell are you doing in the engine room?" Before James could respond, Derrick's eyes went wide and he clutched his head with both hands. He fell back down to the floor and whispered, "shhh, be quiet. Where am I? No, don't say anything. It's your workshop. I'll leave." Derrick considered standing up, thought better of it, and crawled out of the workshop and toward the med bay.
An orderly, leaving med bay, nearly tripped over Derrick. Derrick looked up and whispered, "Shhh. I need some pain killers, Andrew. Do we still have any of those titan bear tranqs?"
"Captain, I can't prescribe anything. Ask Doctor Hsieh." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And the name's Greg."
Derrick looked up into the med bay. A blurry figure in a shockingly bright labcoat was bending over what looked like the dead body of Jett Miner. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to cooperate. "Who the hell are you?"
"Ow. Shhh."
The petite woman stood up and pulled her glossy black hair behind her ear, then made one more note on her datapad before answering Derrick's question. "I'm Dr. Hsieh, with the station medical service, making sure ... " she glanced down at her data pad again, "... Mr. Miner here won't succeed in in killing himself with his own idiocy. Who the hell are you?"
Derrick clambered to his feet, temporarily managing to ignore the protestations of his throbbing head and pointed a wavering finger at Hsieh. "First of all, stop shouting. Second, I'm the captain of this ship, and I ask the questions. Third. Um." Derrick's indignant rant was on a roll, but he could feel himself running out of steam. Third, if we were in any more than 0.1G I'd still be on the floor. "Third, I am the captain, and as such I expect you or any other member of this crew to treat me as... such."
Doctor Hsieh was about to explain to Derrick that she wasn't part of his crew, but he continued on. "I need pain killers, doc. And I don't care for your usual excuses about prescriptions and contraindications, just give me something to stop the pounding in my damn skull."
Derrick's comm unit bleeped. "Hold that thought."
[edit] Upgrade complete
Jessie Eynon set a message to Preston, who forwarded it on to Derrick with some additional comments. "Mister Wilkinson, we got your work done extra fast. I called in a few favours, got my boys to get your upgrades done double-time. And those extra defenses you wanted, I calibrated them myself. Some of my best work, I don't mind saying." Especially on this crap-forsaken rock. At least you're not asking me for bumper nuts. "And thanks again, Mister Wilkinson, for contacting your buddy back home. I already got an autoresponse from them. I appreciate it, I can't tell you how much."
Derrick read through the message from the mechanics, and skimmed the part where Preston went on at length about the need to leave right away. He did some quick math in his head -- given the short delay between Preston receiving this email and him forwarding it to Derrick, and given the length of the text he had added to it, there was no way Preston wrote this on the fly. He must have composed it beforehand, just waiting for the mechanic to write.
He looked back at Hsieh. "Repairs are done, and Preston wants us to get going. I'll be on the bridge; be sure to send someone up with my meds, won't you?" Before Doctor Hsieh could protest, he was out the door and running through the pre-launch checklist on his data pad.
[edit] Leaving Viagra
Out the starboard windows of the Efferdhal Lily, the planet and stars crept slowly by as the docking ring spun the ship in a wide circle. The 1/10 gravity this provided was far from feeling like being on a planet, but it was enough to keep most people from feeling too badly disoriented. Through the port windows, the docking ring was visible against the bright 7-ring asteroids, with the system's sun gleaming in the distance. A broad ring with ships of various sizes moored to its edges, this docking ring was one of hundreds in orbit around Viagra 7g, each spinning at exactly the same rate. Every so often a ship would uncouple from a ring and vector off into the ecliptic before turning its engines toward the docking ring and accelerating toward it's destination.
Every deck hummed as the ship's engines warmed up. Radio chatter came over the speakers in the bridge as Derrick negotiated takeoff times and protocols with the control centre. He announced that the ship was still fifteen minutes away from launch, since they had to wait for their ring to rotate into postion before they could get a propulsion assist. But then, he said, they would be well on their way to the exit slipknot and in Oregon before they knew it.
The announcement of the Lily's impending departure came through the medbay speaker, and through his drug-addled state Jett mumbled, "Great. It'll be good to get back on the trail. These rest-stops are just way too dangerous." Jett, delirious from the drugs delivered by the IV, chuckled nonsensically at his own joke. This led to a two minute coughing fit and considerable pain in his chest.
"Ow..."
Shaking her head at the captain, Mei-ling turned her attention back to her patient. She certainly wasn't going to provide pain meds for a hangover, which the captain clearly was suffering from, especially since he wasn't her captain.
As the announcement came over the speaker, Mei-ling started. The ship was leaving? Preston hadn't told her anything about that when he had called her the night before. She was headed towards the intercom to call to the bridge in protest when Jett started coughing.
"Mr. Miner, please stay where you are. You have three broken ribs, one of which needed repositioning after your adventure in a pressure suit. You nearly punctured a lung. I hope the captain isn't planning too hard a burn, because that might also be a problem..." That reminded her that the captain was leaving. Mei-ling let out a few curses in colorful Chinese, then adjusted the straps holding Jett to the sick bay couch and inflated the acceleration couch, then dashed to the intercom. She fumbled with the unfamiliar controls of the high-end system, then connected with what she thought was the bridge.
"Captain, Dr. Hsieh in sick bay here. Hold that burn, you've got to let me off." A moment later, an unfamiliar voice came back over the intercom.
"Captain's not here. This is the galley."
More curses followed, and Mei-ling hurried out of the room, navigating somewhat awkwardly in the low-gravity environment, as she was more accustomed to station environments. Just as she got in sight of the docking hatch, the take hold sounded, there was a lurch and a jerk as the ship went free.
"BLAST OFF!" Preston stood at the head of the bridge. He was dressed in his most formal wear with his rapier at his side. He felt a new connection with his childhood hero Captain Colonialism and just as the spaceship hurtled once more into the vastness of space his favorite CC quote:
"To the riches of the New World, with the Wealth of the Old World!"
Mei-Ling looked around. Most of the interior of the Lily was designed for opulence, not function. Many ship controls were deemed by the designers to be too ugly to be seen by the casual observer and were hidden from sight. Others were designed to look like things other than what they were, or archaic versions of themselves. In the medical bay the light controls were physical toggle switches. The intercom interface was embedded in a curved handset, sitting on a base with chrome highlights and activated for some reason by spinning a perspex disc.
The fact that this Arestonian ship was significantly more technologically advanced than Viagran ships didn't bother Mei-ling too much. After all, Yushi's ship technology lagged behind Viagra's as much as Viagra lagged behind Areston. But the idea that someone had designed this ship to be purposefully difficult to use was a little beyond the pale.
As the ship broke the gravity well James' reverie broke. Stowing away the parts to the ever fascinating black box he surveyed his made goods and grinned slowly. He trundled out towards the bridge where he physically bumped into Mei-ling. She however was on the other side of the invisibility cloak and saw nothing.
"Terribly sorry about that madam," the empty air piped. "Oh, huh. Hey there kawaii doctor-chan, it's been some time since we've met. You're also heading to the drive section. The bridge is the other way." The empty air gestured. Yes James was being that obtuse. He left her there confident that she would find her way to the bridge.
Reaching the bridge, the door opened and he sat down at his station flicking up the aerostat displays quickly and doing a quick once over of all the ship systems and playing an old Erewhonian piano concerto as his fingers danced across the displays. The concerned looks of the rest of the crew began to dawn on him slowly as he realized what was going on.
"Oh darned, you must think I'm some kind of terrible Fire Yeti."
Jett arrived on the bridge. The doc had done a great job, and the nanites were stitching his rib back together as he walked. It would likely be days before he was back to normal, but the worst was likely over.
"So um, Derrick. I spent most of Arestonian Astrophysics class smoking Tombstone krill in the bathroom, but how exactly are we going to tear the slipknot in Oregon a new one and find some new systems? Tell me it doesn't involve another 'Rest and resupply stop.' I don't think I could survive another."
Derrick looked up slowly from his console as Jett's new magboots thunked across the deck. His eyes were bloodshot, red both from his hangover and from navigating the decoupling procedure. After having been propelled away from the ecliptic by the docking ring's centripetal acceleration, the ship had spent several minutes in zero G. Once clear of V7g's traffic control radius, Derrick had put the ship into a gentle spin to get her top pointing at the south slipknot, giving most of the ship a bit of a outward grav vector. Jett had come in just as Derrick was about to fire up the main engines that would burn at 1G all the way to the slipknot.
Derrick grinned at Jett. "Wanna hear something funny?" He thumbed on a comm feed, and Jett heard faint laboured breathing. "That's a monitor on Christya's room. She gets motion sickness every time we change acceleration. Right now down for her is the starboard hull. If I know her, she's curled up there with a bucket. Thing is, the hull has a lateral crease on that deck, so her "floor" is V-shaped. That means she's about 60 centimetres away from the deck."
Derrick flipped to full-ship broadcast. "Attention, everyone, we're starting full burn now." Switching back to the monitor-only on Christya's room, Derrick smoothly nullified the Lily's rotation vector and started a main engine burn, quickly vectoring up to 1G acceleration.
Christya breathed deeply, willing herself to calm down. She had been in microgravity countless times before. She could manage this discomfort. She would manage this discomfort. She tried not to think of the ice bucket next to her, containing evidence to the contrary. That was then, this is now. I can do this. Besides, surely by now there was nothing left for her to throw up.
Christya closed her eyes, imagined herself floating in warm water. This was not so very different, right? The creased floor was firm, reassuring. Stable. But some part of her mind protested: that's not the floor, that's the wall! Christya's stomach lurched again, and she put her hand on the lid of the ice bucket, ready to open it if needed. Surely there was nothing left in her stomach by now, right?
The comms crackled, and Derrick's voice said, "Attention, everyone, we're starting full burn now."
"What? No!" Christya's eyes popped open wide. Seeing her cabin tilted on its side made her head spin. Then the ship's engines roared and suddenly the floor became down again. Christya had a split second of realization that not only was she now airborne, but so was her ice bucket.
Jett thumbed the controls that would send a scrubbot racing to Christya's quarters. Growing up in Tombstone, he knew exactly how messy vomitting in micro-g could get. "Bucket huh? That sounds like something a planetbound princess like her would try. Hope she's planning to shower; after those few minutes of zero-g, it's gonna be everywhere."
Jett chuckled behind his faceplate, then caught himself as a thought occurred. "Wait, you can hear our quarters from here? You can't get video too, can you?" Jett had no idea what the auto-pharmacist he had destroyed had cost, but if it was more than a Space Twinky™ then he might have a problem.
"Wait, hold on a second," James' voice said from the other side of the bridge. "We're still actually going to try to force a slipknot connection? Is that even possible? Do we have insurance for being spread over 5 dimensions?" A funeral march began to play quietly.
The door to the bridge opened again. An apologetic-looking crewmember stepped aside to allow Dr. Hsieh Mei-ling through and onto the bridge. "What do you think you're doing?" she exploded, eyes burning with a cold fury, searching the room for the responsible party. Her gaze fell on Preston, standing in full Captain Colonialism role as the ship departed. "Preston! You stinking whore-frakking idiot! Did you not think to tell your captain here to let me off before you left Viagra? I hope you're prepared to either turn this filthy tub of yours around or pay for my trip back from wherever you're going!"
Derrick spun in his chair, incensed. "Your mom's a filthy tub!
"Wait, she's not part of the crew? I thought she was the new hire you told me about. The ship's sensors registered a full body count, so I figured..." Derrick's forehead furrowed. "If we've got a full body count, but one extra person, then who's unaccounted for?"
[edit] Side story: Clinton Pearcy
- V7b docking ring
Clinton Pearcy watched the Efferdhal Lily disappear into the dark sky. He sighed, hooked his suitcase and his belt onto a wall tether, and initiated a connection from his handheld. He inserted an earbud and waited for the call to be accepted.
"Hi, Mom." Clinton waited nervously through the twelve-second delay before the response came through. "No, I'm still in-system. It left without me." Pause. "I don't know, but they seemed to like me. The manager guy even shook my hand." Pause. "No, Mom, I didn't do anything to insult them this time. I made sure I was polite and every... No, Mom, my clothes are fine. I hired a consultant to tell me how to dress to impress an Arestonian. The manager guy was wearing something similar. He even complimented my cravat. I don't think it... Yes, Arestonian. It was an Arestonian ship. Because that's where the money is, Mom." Clinton rolled his eyes. "I know they do, Mom, but they're hardly going to do that on board a ship. And I've asked around, and everyone says they don't make Viagrans do that. No, I haven't forgotten. Yes, Mom. I know, Mom. Okay, Mom. Yeah. I know. I know. Okay, Mom. Yeah, maybe next time. Fine, I promise. You too. Love to Dad. Bye."
Clinton watched his handheld, waiting until the connection icon turned grey, and then yelled, "I don't care! Because I'm a grown-up, and I'll work on whatever ship I want, and anyway you're racist!"
Great, now people are staring. Clinton untethered himself and his baggage. Red-faced, he floated his way toward the shuttle launch bays.
[edit] Toward Oregon
"Doesn't matter. We can't afford to turn back now. You can get off at the next port of call." Derrick stood up and stretched. "Say, weren't you going to send me some tranqs?"
"Sorry about kidnapping you, how about some pills?" retorted Mei-ling. "Here's my prescription for your headache: lay off the booze, and you won't get them anymore. Guaranteed in stock."
Jett grinned from ear to ear. "Hey, I like this chick. Can we keep her?"
Derrick's face went red. "Here's my prescription for your attitude: stay off my bridge, and I'll wait until we get to dock before showing you the door.
"Hey Jett, it sounds like you're volunteering to keep our new arrival out from under my feet. Why don't you get on that? And try to teach her some manners while you're at it!" Derrick stormed off to his cabin, muttering under his breath.
The somewhat astounded Preston, so rudely roused from his CC fantasy whispered under his breath "such drama..." Preston then furrowed his brow in thought trying to think of a way to placate this primitive woman (they had met once before and Preston knew of her humble heritage and savage people) he concluded this was his first trial on his colonialist journey.
"I apologize for my colleague's rudeness. I assure you the majority of the crew are required to wear hospitality collars at all times. Please, let us go to my office to discuss our course of action, for where better to have a civilized conversation then in a very civilized room?" Preston had already decided Hsieh was confused and that if he explained how exciting their journey was going to be she would beg him to let her come.
Jett turned to the fuming Mei-ling. "Don't worry about Derrick. He gets moody when he's been drinking. Or not drinking. Or something. Whatever it is, he hasn't had just the right amount to drink."
As Mei-Ling and Preston headed to Preston's office, Jett looked around at the almost vacant bridge. "So James, everyone seems to have ignored our whole 'Hey, what's the plan with messing with the laws of the universe' questions. Did I miss when we made such a solid plan we can take it for granted, or do we really have no clue at all?"
James sat invisibly at his station. "Yeah I wonder what will happen when we try to defy universal constants. I can only assume fiery death, or limitless treasures and strange new computer systems to assume control of. At least one of these things are good." He fumbled and put the small grey beret down. "Besides, I could use a change of scenery."
Jett cocked his head. "So are you going to wear that Fire Yeti disguise the entire trip?"
"I'm completely invisible. I'm like a Fire Yeti in the night."
Jett scratched his head. "...I'll take that as a yes."
[edit] In Preston's office
Mei-ling allowed herself to be led off with Preston. She found herself alternately outraged and amused at his superiority complex and his attempts at pacifying her, but eventually his unflappable cheerfulness settled her down.
Of course, things changed a little when she realized they were headed for the Oregon system. The Yushi habitat had, for reasons that were unclear to Mei-ling, a decent amount of political clout in the Oregon system governments, and she was keenly aware that Viagra had -- with a little encouragement from Wilkinson money -- repeatedly denied extradition requests from her former home.
"Preston, you're seriously going to Oregon?"
"Why yes. It'll be grand! Untold horizons await! Won't you join us? The Lily could use a doctor as amazing as you."
"I grew up in the Oregon system. There's some ... things ... I can't deal with there. And I have a good job on Viagra, that your family got me."
"Well, it doesn't matter! We'll be staying only as long as it takes us to find the new slipknot, anyway. And your job can be on the Lily!"
"New slipknot? What in the eighteen hells are you talking about?"
"Well there is a rumor that there is a hidden slipknot in the Oregon system and our intention is to find it! Don't look so concerned, the ship underwent significant upgrades while on Viagra and these guys I'm traveling with are quite capable people. This is a possibility for untold fortune and prestige, and I would like to take this opportunity to formally invite you to the expedition."
Mei-ling stared in disbelief at Preston for a second. He said,
"Shall I take your silence as agreement then?"
"No! Preston, you're crazy. People have tried to find uncharted slipknots before, and they haven't come back. We'll probably end up floating in interstellar space or in a black hole or something. If we're even that lucky."
Preston grinned and settled in this chair. "Maybe they never came back because they found paradise? If we bring you back you will just live and die a mundane life and who will know your name 20 years from now? If we just take a chance we can be remembered in history forever! We could write the text books! Then we could fire the guys who wrote it and write another text book! Then we could publish billions of them and then buy them all for ourselves with the profit we make from the new worlds we find! Don't you find the possibility the least bit fascinating? You could rise above your refugee status in Oregon and return their Champion! And even if you can't find these possibilities appealing doctor, we really do need your skills, we have a greater chance at making these dreams a reality if we just work together. What do you say? You in?"
"That... doesn't even make any sense!" Mei-ling sighed, and threw up her hands. "Alright, alright. I'll come. You obviously need a doctor, though I think a psychiatrist would be more appropriate than me."
James' disembodied voice chimed in, "Or we unleash a race of self replicating slipknot capable attack drones. Either way should be interesting."
Mei-Ling peered closely at the region of the room where James' voice had come from, trying to find the microspeaker that had obviously projected the voice. "And do I know you?"
"I am a restless spirit, doomed to haunt this accursed vessel. Mostly because the captain is a jeeerrrk."
Preston muttered under his breath, "Or he's some dick hacker who's co-opted the ship comms for his amusement."
"Hey or I'm some INVISIBLE dick hacker who's co-opted the ship's com for his amusement." There was a pause and cough. "My name is James Trevelyan. I think we've met once a while back."
"James! Blessed spirits, how did you end up with Preston? No, don't tell me now, I want to be able to laugh at it..." She trails off, smiling at the empty in the general direction of James.
"Ho ho ho, no real story here Mei, just running away from home is all... That and murdering brigands, you know same old. Why just last month we took care of some backwater despot with delusions of system war." There was a short pause. "I... trust you are well?" The jocular familarity faded somewhat. "I see you've left Oregon, that's a good start."
[edit] Side story: The Meaning of Leadership, starring Derrick Phezir
Derrick lay in his bunk, the cabin lights dimmed. He alternated between cursing himself, and cursing Doctor Hsieh. How dare he get himself into such an embarrassing state? And how dare she point it out?
When Derrick was six, he saw his mother put her navigator in the brig for plotting a course other than the one she had ordered. The course he plotted was more efficient, but Derrick's mom knew the importance of leadership to the smooth running of a ship. Once she was alone with her son, she explained why she'd done what she did.
"Being the captain of a jump ship is a lot more than just steering it out of the way of asteroids. One day you'll have your own ship, and your own fleet, and you'll see exactly what I mean. You have to have the trust and respect of your crew, so that when you need to make a fast decision you know they will follow your commands immediately.
"And here's a little secret, Der, that most people don't realize: you don't actually have to make the right decision every time. A lot of captains think they have to always be right, or their crew will lose faith. But if your crew respects you, then they don't see your mistakes as only your problem, you see? If you make a wrong call, it's the whole crew who made that call. Just like if one of your crew makes a mistake, you share the responsibility. Captains who lead by force or by placing themselves above their crew are right to fear making mistakes. Their crews see their mistakes as flaws, or even as signs that they might not be fit to lead.
"Now, there's a freshly-made sweetloaf in the galley. I want you to go and ask Cook to cut you three slices. Bring one of them to the brig, and give it to Staines. Then bring the other two back here and we'll have some lunch."
Derrick did as she asked, and saw that the door to the Staines' cell was open. The navigator sat there anyway, making notes in the poly notebook he always carried in his breast pocket. He noticed Derrick and smiled. "Hullo there, young Derrick. Come to relieve me?"
Derrick mumbled a response, then gave Staines his treat and stood quietly outside the door for a while. When Staines noticed the boy still there he smiled again. "What's wrong, lad?"
"Why's the door open?"
"Doesn't need to be closed. I know I did wrong, so I'm going to stay here until the Captain wants me out."
"But your course was better than hers."
"Sure, but course efficiency isn't everything. Your Ma has to keep track of trade routes, pirates, schedules and a thousand other things. If she tells me to plot one course and I plot another without her say-so, I don't know what I'm leading us into. I lost sight of that, so here I am."
Derrick thought about this, then looked back at the open door. "Couldn't you just leave?"
Staines laughed. "Sure, but then what? Who would that help?"
Derrick frowned. "It would help you. You could go do whatever you want."
"But then I'd be on a ship with an irresponsible navigator. Listen. If I plot the wrong course, or if Merck doesn't keep the engines tuned, or if Banner doesn't keep an ear to the scanners for pirate transmissions, we put the whole ship at risk."
Staines suddenly laughed. "Jabber and spit, your Ma sent you down here to learn a lesson from me, didn't she?" Derrick nodded. "Well, here it is: on a ship, we all depend on each other. Everyone plays a crucial role, and everyone has the chance to hurt everyone else by doing their job wrong. But the only one who knows everything that's going on is your Ma, so what she says, goes."
Derrick ran his mother's lessons over and over in his head. She knew what it meant to lead. Derrick had to step up to that responsibility, and lead the crew of the Lily like a real Viagran shipper should. No more tantrums, no more sulking in the dark, no more moping about feeling sorry for himself.
He looked over at his desk, where his duffel bag held the bottle he had filled last night and then emptied almost as quickly. And no more of those benders. I have a ship to run.
Derrick drifted off to sleep, dreaming about pirates and sweetloaf.
[edit] A scheme is hatched
James was walking down the hall when he felt a hand close around his arm. He was yanked into the bathroom before he had a chance to react.
Jett stood fully dressed in his Jetsuit, the sonic shower blaring behind him. "Hey James, I need to ask you a favour." James looked awfully confused until Jett continued. "I was hoping you could disable the security devices in my quarters. Maybe even delete all the recordings it's taken so far. I know you learned to wipe this kind of system in the army. Whaddya say?"
Seeing James reluctant to help him just to prove he could, Jett continued. "Listen James, I know this is a big favour. But you're in charge of electronic surveillance on this boat, right? So it's not so much breaking the scanners as looking the other way when they start 'malfunctioning'. But I also know that you needed my help when we hunted down your father's killer, and that I delivered on that job. We got you your vengeance with those..." Jett winced visibly. "...those freaky snake-things. Now I'm asking for this small thing in return."
James looked somewhat curiously at Jett. "Yeah sure I guess. But if you start unloading with your fusion gun and pierce the hull, I will laugh at your frozen corpse. What's up? You never seem to worry before"
Jett watched over James' shoulder as he worked. The data streaming across the screen was completely indecipherable to the thug from Tombstone, but he knew what James could do with one of these machines.
James flourished as he input the final codes. It had been an incredibly easy job to hack the scanner-feeds to Jett's quarters because he had redesigned the systems from the ground up, and he would be the only one possibly looking for signs of tampering.
Nevertheless, James never did anything half-way. Whether it was changing the grades of an Arestonian student, or sneaking through the corridors of Viagra, James had to do things in an overly-dramatic and exciting way. It wasn't enough to simply avoid cameras or guards; he had to have an invisibility cloak! And so it wasn't enough to just stop Jett's scanner feeds; he programmed a limited AI that would feed false but totally plausible data about Jett's habits! Infinite variations of daily routines were generated and fed one by one into the feed as if they were live, dependent on whether he was actually in the room or not.
Ecstatic with the results, Jett watched himself brush his teeth and get into bed, noting the computer's inclusion of his tendency to toss his clothes on the floor. James slunk off invisibly, smirking to himself. It might have aroused suspicion, but Jett was too distracted by the new toy.
James giggled slightly, which can be somewhat disturbing coming from an invisible person. The data centres of the ship opened themselves to him willingly as his digital presence roamed around the ship.
