You're checking out some new gear at a tech show.  Finding the place in the drenching rain, and its out of the way location way back from the road, you almost turned around.

It looked rundown and sad sack, but you already travelled twenty miles, so you decided to give it a few minutes anyways.

There were a few interesting suppliers amidst a small horde of junk in the rusty old former department store, now empty hall rented out to the piddling tech show.

One guy is showing you a new digital camera.  He flicks it on.

"See, ma'am, its scriff-enhanced.  Very new, very weird stuff.  I'd explain it, but I don't have a PH.d. in physics.  Whats important is what it does for you..."

A lightning strike, the hall's lights flicker and go out, and a general moan, and then the start to come on which gets a cheer, and then a shower of sparks as a circuit is overstressed.

Since you're taller than the sales guy, and you're the only customer in the area, and all the other sellers are sitting down...

You see a flash, feel strange, the camera gleams, and yellow globules of light are floating in a bath of white light...

============================================================================

You're laying down, feeling light-headed, a faint vibration like that of a luxury car underneath you, but your cheekbone is laying on a mildly painful grate.  Other than that, you feel fine.

I take a moment to try to clear my head, then try to sit up.  Assuming that everything is working well, I look around.  I can feel my backpack still in place and my waist pack hasn't gone anywhere, so I probably haven't been mugged.  If there is no one around, I touch my left armpit to make sure that the Glock is still there and my right one to insure that the reloads are still in place.

I stand, adjusting my blue denim jacket to insure that it covers my gear.  Next, I look around to determine if I can tell where I am by what the room contains,  maybe an office, storeroom, bedroom, whatever.  Thinking back to the bright flash,  I mutter softly, Well, I might not know where I am, but it beats where I could have been.

Your stuff is still with you.

You stand up, a bit easier than you expected.  Underneath your feet is a metal grate walkway (right now, you're sure you've got an imprint of this on the side of your face from laying on it.) that runs between two walls, and hangs from these walls.  The walls are white, possibly ceramic, and the interior wall curves away from you both above and below you, while the outer wall curves toward you both below and above, following the curve of the interior wall.

The area is dimly lit.

A number of pipes of various sizes, and compositions run down the walls, mostly out of your reach, but one that has an extension in your reach also has a clear warning sign.

"-H"
"Annihilatory/Supercold/High Pressure"

PT
OOC: I don't usually do two posts in one day, but sometimes the crack addict just has to have his fix...

I take a moment to get my piece and rack the slide, chambering a round.  I click on the safety, then reholster the Glock.  Here could be anywhere, so I decided to be ready.

I looked around some more.  Come on, Mist.  You're the hotshot detective.  Figure it out.  Let's see, with all of the pipes, this could be some type of factory.  That would account for the vibration from the floor, too.  As to the walls, some fancy designer probably got big bucks designing this place.  Maybe this is a containment sphere for some industrial process.  The inner ball might be where the action takes place and I'm on an inspection catwalk.  The texture of the walls might have something to do with the processes involved in the inner sphere.

I started to walk clockwise on the curved metal walkway.  There were answers somewhere and I planned on finding them.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Thu 23 June 2005.

Its not a sphere, you realize, as you head onward, more of a cylinder.  Continuing on, you reach a ceramic? door with a handle, and frost on the edges of the door, and a sign on the door.

"Enviromental Level One Suits Reccommended"

To your right, through a clear panel of uncertain material that seems vaguely familiar, you see about a half-dozen green 'biocontam' suits hanging in a small alcove.  Then you spot the handle on the clear panel.

pt

I've never been one to risk my life without at least a good reason, so I reached for the handle on the clear panel to get a couple of suits, one for myself and one to wrap my backpack in for the trip.  I've never been much into clothing, but still, the fabric of these suits was not anything I recognized.

I placed my pack into one of the suits, fastened it, then tied the arms and legs into straps in order to carry the pack through the enviro suit required area.  I slipped the other suit on over my clothing and gear.  The suit's waist was a little snug over my waist pack, but I got it closed.

I looked for gloves and a helmet in the alcove.  If this place requires a suit, maybe it needed a helmet, too.

You get into the suit, and figure out the unfamiliar buckles and snaps, and then track down a beeping noise which leads you to a snap you missed.  There are helmets and gloves, and once you get them on, there's a sudden flow of air in the suit even though you did not notice any air tank on the suit, or piping to the suit.

You open the door, and step through.  The walkway beneath you is dotted with footprints amidst the frost.  Even through the suit, you feel a little chilled, but then that goes away, and you seem warmer.

To your right, near vertical, are ten bodies, male and female, upright, frozen solid in ice and separated in glass? covered cubicles.  Between the cubicles you can look back a bit further, and see more cubicles, at least a row ten deep of them. So there's at least a hundred cubicles here.

PT

I just look at the first cubicle to see if there are any identifing markings or symbols.  Despite the warmth of the suit, a chill runs down my spine.  Am I supposed to have been another "freezie".  After learning all that I can by examining the deep freeze unit, I decide that they aren't a threat.  Mist, maybe this isn't a factory after all.  Is it a medical research facility?

I follow the footprints in the floor to see where they lead.  Anywhere is better than here and I need answers even more now than I did before.

The first cubicle has an inscription on the bottom edge.

"Col. Federated Forces, Earth Bold Star-Valor, (Logistics); Mission Third, Cmdr. Unit Two, Dr.(Quantum Mechanics), Dr.(Horticulture)/ Martin Faulkner"

You walk across the cold frosted grate to another door.  Opening it, you step into a continuation of the previous hall, with another alcove for suits, and then a few steps further you see a porthole which peeking through you can see a profusion of green growing plants on the other side of the porthole.

PT
OOC: I only run from M-F, so while you can reply, I shan't until Monday morning.  Have a good weekend.

As I removed the helmet, gloves and suit, replacing them in the storage area, I begin to think out loud.  Federated Forces, Earth Bold Star-Valor?  Mist, what have you gotten yourself into?  I unwrap my equipment pack and put it back on, making sure that I can get to my Glock quickly, if needed.  I was getting a sinking feeling that where I was wasn't anywhere that I really wanted to be.

The strange enviro suit, the cryo units, the machinery somewhere making the building hum, and now an interior jungle all meant that there had to be people around here somewhere to use or maintain all of the stuff.    Mist, you can't get any answers out here. I reminded myself as I continue down the hall, looking for a door.

You continue down the catwalk until you see a guy, in a white, loose jumpsuit fiddling with some wires in the wall.  He has a metal cart with huge wheels behind him, and now to the side of him (it seems to be robotic) on which are his tools.

He's humming to himself as he works.

PT

I walk a bit closer to him, then striking what I hope is a casual pose, say, Excuse me, but can you tell me where the ladies room is located?

"Whaaaa!"  He jumps up, spins around while still in the air, and awkwardly lands.  His face is pale and shocked. He rapidly backs up a few feet, takes a good look at you, and then backs up ten more feet while shouting.

"Rover, establish defensive perimeter one."

The three foot tall metal cart rolls with extreme quickness to directly between you and him.  Then it starts making six inch lunges at you followed by retreats.

Then he starts talking to himself.

"Its okay, Jake.  Just a hallucination.  Stayed up too late playing cards last night cycle."

PT

I look at the robot cart.  I decided that as long as Rover doesn't come any closer, I'm not going to worry about it.  This guy was really jumpy.  You would have thought that he was the one just dropped in the middle of this place.  I took a deep breath and tried for my patent pending, world famous "angry dog and scared kid" calm voice.  I am sorry if I startled you.  I did see that you were concentrating on your work.

I kept my hands where he could see them.  I hoped that the people in charge of this Mission, whatever it was, didn't see fit to trust the kid with anything more dangerous than a tool cart smarter than he was.

If I kept talking to him calmly, maybe he wouldn't think to use the cart as anything more than a shield.   Look, Jake, isn't it?  I'm Misty.  I'm ummm... not from around here.  I don't mean you any harm.  I would like to talk to someone in authority.  Is this the part where I say 'Take me to your Leader.'?  I smiled at him and hoped that he didn't watch a lot of "evil alien lifeform invades the spaceship" movies.

He looks at you, at your feet, rubs his eyes, and checks if you are still there.

Then he steps forward, and checks the robo-cart. That seems to relieve him.

"Ah, ah, I'm sorry, its just that there's only five of us awake on the ship.  And I knew the other ones were toward the bow, messing with the ramscoop.  I thought you were a ghost."

He laughs weakly.  Then he tabs a communication device on his collar.

"Captain Morgan, uh, one of the cryos just decanted, yes, a lady named Misty."

There is a pause, and then a somewhat authoritative voice replies.

"I'll be right there, with the doc.  We don't want 'Misty' going into hypothermic shock. If you've got a blanket, give it to her, hot liquids as well."

Jake punches a button on the cart, and a chair slides out of the cart side.  He then holds up a mylar sheet for you, and a small plastic bag which he rips open with his teeth.  In a second you can smell hot apple juice.

PT
OOC: No guarantees about running later for a couple days.  I've come down with a flu or something.

I take the apple juice and try a sip.  Hot apple juice would never make it to my top ten list of favorite beverages.  He said that there were five people awake on the ship.  That would be Jake with his trusty sidekick Rover, the Captain, and the Doc, so far.  That information might come in handy.

I took the blanket in my left hand to keep my right one free to get to my pistol, if needed.  Jake, thank you for your help.  Thank you for the blanket.  Do you mind if I keep it for later, in case I need it?  I'm not cold right now and I do have this nice hot juice and a jean jacket.  I'm all right, but I really need to talk to your Captain and Doctor.   I took another sip of the horrid apple juice.  I smiled at Jake.  I kept my tone of voice friendly and calm.  I didn't want him to think I was a threat and call for more help.  You wouldn't happen to have a large, low fat, double mocha latte in there, would you?

OCC:  I'll stay back from the screen in that case.

Jake blinks at your request, and then he smiles, relaxing a bit more.

"No, but that would be nice wouldn't it?  I do have a coffee baggie, though."

He offers you a plastic bag which says Maxwell House on the outside of it.

A guy in a t-shirt and shorts with a box, followed by a female in a jumpsuit toting a large plastic box with a Red Cross insignia on its side come jogging down the catwalk.  Both of them look a bit older than Jake.

The doc, Sheila, introduces herself as she begins to take your blood pressure, and that is the only thing you recognize of her medical equipment, but she is doing several other things at the same time.

Captain Morgan squats down his rangy form on his heels in front of you so as not to tower over you.

"Well, I'd say we had a stowaway, but thats impossible.  The mass calculations would have been off during the boost phase.  And there's no way for even an ArtInt to dock at one-fourth cee.  So you mind telling me how you got here?  Because I know all the cryos, and you're not on the list."

PT

I shake my head as I see the two new people arrive.  Thanks, Jake, but it looks like I'll need a rain check on the coffee.  I think I just got busy.

As the Doc begins to work on me, I set the blanket and the warm apple juice on the deck.  Doc, I feel fine.  Really, I do.  I'm not a cryo.  I try to get her to back off before she accidently discovers my pistol.  I somehow doubt that my being armed would make them feel better about my presence here.

I look at the Captain.  That isn't hard to do since I tend to prefer the tall rangy type.   I agree with you in that I'm not a cryo.  I'll be happy to tell you everything I know about how I arrived here, but I'd like you to answer a few questions for me, too.  Think of it as a trade.  Since I'm not from around here, I'll start first.  What is today's date?  Where is this magic bus going?  Also, what is an ArtInt?

The Captain visibly thinks about your offer for a couple seconds, and then shrugs.

"Ok. I'll play your game. The easiest one first, this magic bus, the Yankee, as you call it, is headed toward Bethany System, and we're decelerating at .8 Terrans.  Bout six months ship time out.  An ArtInt is, of course, an artificial intelligence.  Rotten monsters.  Probably reflects some flaw in Humanity that they all turned out pschyotic.
The last, well, its about ..."

And here the conversation degenerates into a lot of cross-talk as the three try to figure out what the exact date is.  What with corrupted databases, disintegrated central archives, and relatavistic travel effects, and with the fact that they are using the second of two new numbering systems (the first is AJ time, and the second is Founding Year Time) and they are not certain how these relate to Anno Domini time...

Best you can figure is somewhere between 2900 and 3200 AD.

I had a difficult time drawing my next breath.  I had suspected that I was on a spaceship sometime in the future, but to hear it said so matter-of-factly was still a shock.  I used to read a lot of sci-fi.  I didn't expect to be living in it.  I knew that I had to focus and get it together really quickly.

I shook my head a bit to clear it.  I took a deep breath and began.  This might be a little complicated.  My name is Ms. Terri Reynolds.  My friends used to call me Misty.  Mizz-T, get it?  Never mind.  I'm a private investigator from Dee Cee, ummm...  Washington, District of Columbia, although I'm also licenced in Virginia and Maryland, or at least I was.  In June of 2005, I was attending a new gear and gizmos show way out from the Beltway.  Some technogeek was showing a new digital camera enhanced by some stuff called "scrap" or "scruff" or something like it.  A lightning bolt hit the building.  There was this ILM quality lightshow and I woke up here.  I slowly reach into my upper right jean jacket pocket to get my PI ticket and badge and flash the leather folder open for them to examine.      There was no one around, so I went looking and ran into Jake and his wondercart.  And here we are.

"Miss Reynolds, or if I may, Misty, I think your story is impossible for us to evaluate, as we are definitely junior crew, but when we get to Bethany, and decant the cryos, I bet we'll get a number of experts working on it.

Problem is, we're not heading toward a civilized system so we won't be able to offer you much comfort or ease.  Bethany has had a technological collapse following the Break War, and one of the local 'lords' has radioed us for help.

Its the avowed mission of the Federated Systems to draw all of Humanity back into jumpgate contact, so we're dragging a gate with us, and of course experts in the cans, mini-fusion reactors, and the like to help these poor folk who are fighting off barbarian hordes with steel swords?!?"  He shakes his head in disbelief at such a primitive tool.

PT

Well, I didn't expect them to believe me.  I was there and I wasn't too sure that I understood what was happening, either.  Being a firm believer in making lemonade out of the lemons life gives you, I decided to just go with the situation.  After all, how many other choices did I have?

"Captain Morgan, this is your lucky day.  I have been trained in the military of my time as a member of the Military Police.  We are trained to help restore order in hostile environments.  I am a trained investigator and part-time bodyguard, when needed.  Also, I have some skill in the use of these primitive weapons, since it was a hobby of mine back then.  I have a set of skills that you need."

I waited a moment for him to say something, then I went on.  "You, in return, have some things which I need, like a ride, some updated equipment, information, and a few units of whatever passes for currency for personal expenses.  As the senior awake member of the Federated Systems, I'm sure that you have the power to hire consultants locally during a mission.  I would be glad to share knowledge of my skills and abilities as part of my employment package as a consultant to the Federated Systems on this mission to Bethany."

I thought to myself as I looked at the Captain.  Geez. Mist, you've only been awake for a little while and you're already looking for work?  I wonder if this place has a holodeck and I can get some practice in with what they use for hand weapons?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Thu 30 June 2005.

The Captain thinks for a half-minute, and then stands up.

"You're right, of course.  Not something I expected to run into so I had to review the relevant regs on my eyecam just to be sure."

"Welcome to the Federated Systems Bussard Ramscoop-Interstellar, theConnetticut Yankee.  You would be start out as a provisional Level Four Consultant Combatant."

He taps the badges on their sleeves.  His and the docs have L11.  Jake's has L5.

"You gain level by adding areas of proficiency, or by demonstrating especial proficiency in an area, or by especially meritorious service.  We can offer you a ride, food, oxygen there and a place with all that on Bethany for the several year mission, and then a ride back through the gate once it gets powered up over a several year period.

Of course, a variety of uniforms, a shock suit, or more properly speaking, an impact reduction and ablative energy defense suit, a stun rod, and a laser rifle, and your own wondercart, as you call it.  Please don't name yours Rover, all firsttimers do, and it bugs the veterans."  The Captain says, and pops his neck looking back up the catwalk in the direction of the work he abandoned.

"She's going to need a place to sleep, Morgan. Can bunk with me or Jane, our NavTech, until we get a room refitted." The doc says.  "You check out.  I am going to want to have you in for an intensive physical, but that can wait until tomorrow."

Thank you, sir.  I might need a couple of days to get oriented, but I'll get started on some weapon training procedures as soon as possible.  Is there some type of holographic training simulator available on board?  Do you have a fabrication area for making metal items?

All of a sudden, I got a little dizzy.  Maybe it was my mind reacting to the stress.  Maybe it was something else.  I used the wall to steady myself and it passed in a few moments.  Sorry, Sir.  I guess my transfer had a few minor residual effects.  If it is all right, I'll bunk with the Nav Officer.  I will report for a complete physical in the morning.

So, I'm a level four combat consultant, provisional, now.  It beats the E-1 where I started in the Army.  And to think it's only taken me nine hundred years.

They get you dropped off in a cabin of about five hundred square feet.  The NavTech, an L8, smiles cheerfully at you as she shows you the "cot".  Its a couple notches on the wall, with a fabric sheet wound tight around the notches to form a slightly saggy 'hammock' or cot.

Its more comfy than an Army cot, but definitely not a real bed.  However, 4/5ths gravity makes it feel more comfy than it would be.

"Any questions? Or should I leave you be until dinner seven hours hence, which is a full-dress affair, in your honor. We have to find ways to keep ourselves amused."

Then she hands you a sheet of plastic.

"Captain said to give you this.  Its a generic ship map/locator.  Just talk to it.  It will warn you away from sections, and he said it will show you to the dojo/gym."

PT

I looked at the map.  I've never used one of these before.  Actually, I've never even seen one of these before.  How do I get it to show me where the dining area, supply issue point, and the medical area are located?  Since this is a full-dress dinner in my honor, I'll need something more appropriate than jeans.   What does a provisional Level Four Consultant Combatant wear, anyway?  I shrugged out of my backpack.  Since this was home for a while, I might as well put my pack out of the way.  I still had one problem, though, and I was wearing it in a shoulder holster.

I opened the door to my locker and used it to shield myself from view as I shrugged out of my holster at the same time that I removed my jean jacket.  I placed them both in the locker, the gun folded in the coat.

I looked at her and smiled.  I have about nine hundred years of questions.  I'll start with something job related.  Where would I go to find out just what my job entails?  Also, if you have some time, I could use a sparring partner to see how useful my hand to hand skills are in this time frame.

As you talk various arrows progressing along corridors appear on the sheet with glowing lines for corridors and blinking arrows for your path.  Finally, it steadies down to a least time pattern to get to all of the above once you get to the last item you want.

The NavTech laughs.

"You'll need to pick up your A,B,C, and D uniforms. A for casual, B for regular, C for hostile environment, and D for formal wear.  We mostly wear A's on board.  You can buy additional uniforms if you want shorts or trousers, but I don't bother.  The A jumpsuit is comfy enough for me. Toss them in the fresher right before bed, and they're good to go in thirty seconds of sonic vibration."

The NavTech toggles a switch on the wall, and a keyboard pops out, and a wall turns to a computer screen.  She types in something.

Up pops the view of your telling the captain what you can do followed by a note.

"CC L4 Misty is to be assigned duties based on this description, by her commanding officer.  Current duties: familiarization with ship, maintenance and expansion of skill set."

"Right now, Misty, there's not a whole lot for you to do.  After all, there's nobody onboard that needs their attitude adjusted with a stun stick.  Time to get prepared is what I'd say." The NavTech says. "Sure, I can probably do a hand to hand combat every other day. Say tommorrow, before lunch?"

PT

I look at the blinking board.  OK, this is going to take some practice.   Clear board.  Display uniform issue facility location.  Once the board lights up with what I hope is what I want, I set it aside for later.  Tomorrow morning before lunch would be great for a practice session, thanks.

I look at the NavTech to see how she wears that "A" uniform.  I figured I'd save wear and tear on my clothes as much as possible by wearing theirs for most activities.  There were so many questions that I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to give anything away.

I realized that I was hungry.  I was just about to leave the gear demos for dinner when I got shifted.  Since we were going to be roomies, I thought I'd offer her a snack.  I fished two snack bars from my waist pack.   I'm starving.  Would you like a granola bar?  It's a chocolate chip one.  Just ignore the expiration date on the package.  I offered her one, then munched mine down, trying not to eat it too quickly.

With one basic need resolved, another needed to be taken care of next.  I smiled at my roomie.  I remembered that movie where a frozen, then revived, Stallone had to figure out the futuristic restroom.  It was funny then.  I don't think it would be funny now.  There is this one other thing you could help me with.  Could you help me figure out how the plumbing works?

"Well there's one for zero-g, and another for half-g and above.  Here's how it works..."

Mercifully, we'll draw a curtain there.

PT

With that immediate problem resolved, I thanked Jane for her help, picked up the map pad, and set off to draw my uniform allowance.  The mapper was kind of nice, sort of like a small GPS unit.  Just because I could, I tried to make a wrong turn to see what the device would do.  I was glad to see that the flashing red "X" was still being used as a warning symbol.

I found the supply point and touched the button on the wall next to the door.  Hmmm...  Well, Mist, let's see if it's a doorbell, opener, or a fire alarm.

Its more of a thick piece of construction paper, laminated.

You hit the button, and the door slides open.  Inside is a cubicle with a fold-out chair, and some fold-out railings.  And a screen.

It lights up.  Asks for your sizes (if you are uncertain it points out a laser measuring device {very low power laser}), and some grumbling noises from behind the wall in front of you, and out pops onto the desk four sealed plastic containers of clothing.  And a shock stick, and a laser rifle.

However, before you can put these on, the computer makes you watch a not totally dull, explanation of how to use them.  Then you are tested on your memory.

Five hours later, you are dressed and equipped, and bored out of your skull at sitting in that tiny room listening to someone explain over and over again how the safety functions on your laser blaster.  Finally, you are allowed to go with the cheery voice reminding you...

"Of course, this is only an extremely basic introduction to the use of Federated Systems Laser, Stun Weapons, and Uniforms.  We will cover more tommorrow!"

Wow, Mist, military instruction hasn't made much progress in nine hunderd years, has it?  My butt was as numb as my brain.  My apple juice and granola bar wore off a while ago.  After dinner, you need to see if there's a practice range on board, Mist.

I looked at my stuff and realized that the supply computer, like all supply personnel probably throughout time, issued only the basics.  Let's see what else was behind door number two.  If this doesn't work, I can always play dumb.  This would work especially well now.  Request additional material for CC L4 Misty.  Request one each of the following items:  Start list.  Holster/scabbard for shock stick...  Equipment belt for holster/scabbard for shock stick...  Carry sling for laser rifle...  Standard personal combat equipment carry system...  Standard issue mission loads for laser rifle and shock stick...  Seven days of prepackaged individual combat rations.  End list.  Now, either I get some gear, or alarm bells are going off very soon.  I smiled.  Maybe this future stuff wasn't going to be so bad, after all.

It provides all but the standard mission loads for your weapons.

"It is customary to provide ship-board personal with practice loads until they are assigned off-ship duties."

So you have power packs, but they are very light.  You might be able to knock a mouse out with your stun stick, as it stands right now.

PT

It takes a couple of trips, but I manage to get my primary and secondary equipment issues to the room I'm sharing with Jane the Navigator.  I put the weapons and practice loads into my storage locker.  I stashed my waist pack there, too.  At the rate I was going, I'd have my own armory by the end of the week, whenever that was.

I looked at the piles of stuff in my half of the small room.  I'd have to find a place to stash the rest of the stuff later.  I had just enough time to put on the fancy dress uniform, run a brush through my hair, and have the electronic map show me the way to the dining area.  I couldn't keep from wondering about the food.    I wonder if I'll recognize any of the food.  I just hope it's not tofu.

There is about a dozen different courses, each quite small, and more than a few quite fiery.  The general theory seems to be varied taste sensations, so they go from a very sweet rice dish, to a cheesy jalopeno, to a salt-encrusted walnut and caramel lump, to a vinegar laden sorta cole slaw made of unfamiliar vegetables, to a taco whose primary ingredient seems to be hot peppers and ....

Ice cream sundae is the dessert.

Evidently this is more of a fancy spread than they are used too.  Its a party in your honor.  So they give you an opportunity to make a speech, and ask you a bunch of questions, and tell you stories of life on teh ship.

The whole thing takes about three hours.

PT

I had met three of the five awake crewmembers earlier, so there were only the two new people to meet.  I told them about life in the first part of the twenty-first century when they asked and shut up about what they didn't.  I didn't know enough to ask anything of their, and now my, time.  I figured some quality time with a history text would do me the most good.

While talking with my shipmates, I did confirm an appointment for a physical to be done right after breakfast.  I already had a workout session with Jane scheduled right before lunch.  Maybe after lunch, I could locate a holographic training simulator or get in some range time with my laser rifle.  I tried not to think just how strange the concept of owning "my laser rifle" really sounded to my own ears.  Of course, there was always the chance for another five hour class on where the on switch was on the stun stick.

The food was good.  I wondered who made all the different dishes.  Since I was probably the lowest ranked crewmember, I wondered if I would have kitchen duty afterwards to clean up.  I made it a point to not drink anything intoxicating during the party.  It just wouldn't look good for me to get loaded at a party in my honor on my first day on the job.

After the party, I realize that I was getting really tired.  I had another of my random thoughts.  Mist, if crossing a couple of time zones gives you jet lag, what would you call a nine hundred year or more time jump?  I followed Jane back to our room, ran my dress uniform through the laundry thingie, set my alarm watch to wake at the time Jane suggested, and went quickly to sleep in the not uncomfortable wall mounted sleep sack.

The next thing I knew, I was running down some curved hallways in my ship, the Nostromo, with my Colonial Warrior's turbolaser in hand and backpack bouncing on my shoulders.  Captain Nemo just announced that we were being boarded by green slime monsters.  Somehow, I knew that even though the Commonwealth had been destroyed, the Vorlons were helping to rebuild it.

I knew that I was getting closer to the battle when I saw Robbie the robot slumped over with a large stream of smoke billowing from his internal systems.  His buddy, Twikki, was just laying there covered with blaster burn marks and going "Bee-Dee-Bee-Dee" over and over.  No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't get to the battle to be able to help.

Suddenly, the announcement came over the speaker.  "Abandon ship!"  Abandon ship!"  I ran to the nearest escape hatch and ended up in an X-Wing.  I punched it, extended the foils, and found my view blocked by this giant cube of a starship.  I was being drawn in.  I couldn't get away.  I...

...woke up in a cold sweat.  No more pepper tacos for you, Mist.  Eventually, I got back to sleep.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:35, Mon 11 July 2005.

You meet George from engineering, a very soft-spoken and rounded (well muscled but also well padded) fellow, and Mike, tall, black hair, intense who runs the IT and speaks in technobabble half the time.

The 'wondercarts' tote everything to a self-sorter (kinda like a coin sorter but on a much larger scale), and then once everything is sorted, it gets a bath of sonic energy, and then the plates, etc. drop out, and arrive in their respective stacks in the holding bins.  The emulsified food remains get shot through a tube to the compost bin in the interior garden.

Cooking and gardening are not chores for teh lowest ranking individual.  They are much fought for opportunities for a bit of 'natural life'.  Cleaning up is left to the bots.

You wake up the next day with the nightmare still in your memory.

The doc checks you out, and gives you a clean bill of health, in general, although she suggests adding certain supplements to your diet to make up for the fact that you're not genetically modified (and thus need more than five hours of sleep, and are subject to a variety of diseases that got deleted from teh human genome back at the beginning of the 22nd century).  She's got horse pills, patches, inhalants, internal pumps (although that would require a small bit of surgery)...

She also points out a very small substance in your blood which she is unfamiliar with.

"Have to study this more.  Probably no big deal.  Probably something that got deleted, and I just need to reread the archives."

I was glad to hear that I was all right after the timeshifter thing.  If the Doc wasn't worried about the unknown stuff in my blood, I wouldn't be either.  I did have one question for the Doc, though, before I headed out the door.  Doc, since I'm kind of a low maintence type of girl, how long would it take to install the pumps and how long would they last?

The casual uniform was actually kind of comfortable.  The shoes were even wearable right out of the box, or in this case, bag.  I would give the suit a try while jogging later.  I wasn't really sure when lunch was scheduled.  (This PI's didn't tend to keep regular schedules for things like meals.)  I used my mapboard to get to the gym, figuring to warm up before the sparring started.  Besides, if the workout equipment was anything like the plumbing, I'd need some extra time to figure out how it worked.

I got to the gym first, so I started a series of stretching exercises to loosen up.  There were some what I thought were workout machines along one wall, but I left them alone.  I wasn't all that familiar with the ones from back home to want to give these updated torture devices a try.  As I loosened up my muscles, I began to mull over some things in my mind.

I still felt a bit undressed walking around without my pistol.  I reminded myself that I was working for the military now, but I missed the reassuring weight under my left arm.  I wondered where this ship had it's armory.  It was probable off limits, but maybe as a Combat Consultant, I might get a look at their other toys and see if I could get a laser pistol or a high tech slugthrower issued to me.  I wondered how many decades of computer instruction it would take for that to happen.

"Set on minimal effect, hmm, probably eight to sixteen months, but replacements only require an injection to refill the reservoir which you could do yourself if I taught you.  Not hard at all. Of course, if you mess up, its really bad because then you have multiple overdoses of various chemicals, but you have to be really careless to mess up."  The doc says.  She shows you a few items, very small, which evidently is supposed to go inside your chest cavity, and attach to the inside of your rib cage.
============================================================================

The Navtech walks in, nods, and touches a couple buttons. A pair of screens extend from the walls to box her in, and she changes.  A couple minutes later, she is stretching as well with you.  Then she goes over to one of the workout machines.  Its mostly handgrips, and wires.  An electric charge straigtens out the wires so they become very thin bars, and soon the device is very slowly pulling her so that she stretches just a little further than you would have thought possible.  She's not quite a yoga, but getting there.

She asks if you want to use a similiar device.

Then once you are both limber, she nods again.

"Alright, this was your idea, so why don't you tell me the general rules and such?  And remember, we both have to be on duty later today, so I prefer not to have to show up in medical restraints."  She grins at the last.

I laughed.  Rules?  I can go with what you're used to.  I won't use any full power blows, but they might mark you up a bit if you zig when I zag.  I think this is more of a getting used to each others styles and seeing how my skills translate to my current now.  Agreed?

I bowed to her, then set myself up in a defensive position, ready to see what she was going to try.  I thought to myself, Mist, if everyone here is enhanced, your version 1.0 body might need those implants.

She agrees, and then starts toward you in a low crouch, with her feet spread wide.  Her arms are held loosely straight out in front of her.

She comes closer, grins distractingly, and lashes out with a leg.  You block it with an arm, but the leg never connects.  Instead, she bounces forward into a roll, and crashes her whole body into your legs.

You feel yourself starting to fall.

PT

I add to the momentum, tucking and rolling backwards regaining my feet in one move.  Not bad.  Still crouched, I shoot my right leg out in a sweeping move to knock her over.  I couldn't help but wonder, How much is training and how much is genetic?

You sweep her leg, and she rolls into it.  Still, you know you got her. And she comes back her feet not quite as smoothly as one would like. She keeps pressing closer trying to get into close-quarters for wrestling, it looks like.

She's gathering herself for another rush...

PT

I wait for the rush, then using her momentum, I roll backwards and use my legs to throw her past and behind me.  Once I make the throw, I scramble to my feet to see how she is doing.

She dives at you, faking a high attack,and then going low.  You just barely get down to catch her, and over she goes in a wild scramble trying to grasp your uniform to break your hold...

But she lands in a thump.

"Ow." She says softly.  And then sits up.

"Enough. I have a little training in Zero-G Optional Wrestling, which is what you saw.  Try to get in close, and tangle up an opponent."

PT

I offer my hand to Jane to help her to her feet.  If you would like, Jane, I could show you a few of my hand-to-hand moves.  I'm no Bruce Lee, but I could usually hold my own in a fight.

If she is agreeable, I first demonstrate a few patterns in slow motion to give her an idea of how my fighting style works.  In the hour or so before lunch, I show her how to roll out of a fall and give her a few blocking moves to practice.   Once you learn them well enough, we can add some offensive moves.
The hour or so passed too quickly, so I said see you later to Jane and headed back to our room to grab what passes for a shower and a mealpack of combat rations for lunch.

I looked at the combat rations package, ready if not exactly eager to try them for the first time.  Mist, I wondered, Are you sure that this is a good idea?  I prepared the meal according to the instructions on the container.

While I was waiting for my meal to heat up, I turned on the computer to try get my afternoon assignments, if any.  I sat down in front of it and spoke clearly and precisely.  Computer, display afternoon and evening assignments for today for CCL4 Misty.

She's agreeable, and suggests that you test your skills with the engineer, who's pretty good, and could certify you to a higher level.

She picks up your rolls very easily, but the blocks are hard for her.

"In Zeegow, blocks are very advanced. You learn them after throws, and throws are advanced.  With a block in Zeegow, you expect to knock the other person into a wall, and yourself as well. So unless you're real good, you are taught not to block."

The food is decent, about McDonald's quality.

The computer displays:

Laser rifle personal modifications with the engineer (he'll adjust it to you custom).
Workout for strength/endurance.
Read or View "Safety Procedures for Emergency Handling Anti-Hydrogen."
Free Time
Group Dinner, non-formal

After lunch, I filled the ammo pouches of my field gear with the training clips, grabbed my field gear and laser rifle (which still sounds sooo cool), and used my map board to find my way to the engineering section.

I went in, vowing to not touch anything.  I called out, Hello?  If you've got a few minutes, I'd like to get my laser rifle fitted.  Maybe I could schedule an unarmed combat training session at the same time.

The laser rifle looks fairly cool as well, too.

You walk in, and see him fussing with a ball of shimmering light.  Seeing you, he says.
h
"Pause" and the light freezes in position.  He pushes back from the workbench with a frustrated sigh, and then brightens a bit when you show him your problem.  It takes almost an hour, but with continual tiny adjustments to a variety of screws, and straps, what had felt comfortable now feels like part of your arm almost.

Then he shows you how to repeat not the process, but the end result if it gets out of whack which takes two hours of brain sweat.

"You need to practise this every night, thirty minutes, and disasembling your blaster too, blindfolded. Don't let them assign you too many jobs, because everyone wants to shortchange security, but like engineering, its one of those things that when you need it, you really need it."

PT

I did finially get the hang of setting up the laser rifle.  I'm almost embarassed to admit how dense I was.  I explained to him that in my time, taking care of your personal weapon was as important as it is now.  In our conversation, I did remember to ask where the practice range was located on ship.

Thank you for helping me get a better feel for this.  By the way, Jane said that you were the one to talk to about setting up an unarmed practice session.  Then, something he said earlier hit me and I can't help but look a bit puzzled as I ask, Blaster?  What blaster?

He calmly explains as you get frustrated with the rifle's obtuseness that it is a very delicate piece of machinery, and that adjustments to it require a great deal of precision and patience as such things are measured in near-microscopic fragments.  It is a lot more challenging than fitting a pistol to oneself.  Partially because the rifle knows how it is being held so it has different adjustments for whether you are on your belly, or standing, and so forth.

"Ah, yes." He grins in a not totally friendly fashion, quite challenging.  "They must think you are good to send you my way.  I know boxing and savate, and I'll be glad to meet you at your convenience."

Behind his eyes you sense the spirit of a man who likes to fight, and is constrained by morality and custom from pounding heads.

"And a blaster, it is this."  He pulls out a short pistol like item from under a desk.  "Charged particle weapon.  Not all that discriminate.  Not a great range either.  Unlike a laser it packs a bit of a kick.  But it does a whole lot of damage.  Its not standard equipment but almost anyone who's getting into a serious fight wants one. And smoke or water spray does little to stop it, unlike a laser."  He tells you the range is the dojo, just with some modifications.  Unless you want to go outside in a spacesuit, and shoot target drones.  Can use full power weapons that way with no restrictions except not to hit the ship.

PT

I tried really hard not to drool when the engineer pulled out the blaster.  I don't know if I succeeded, though.  I made up my mind that I wanted one of them.  If the AltInts attacked, having something small that did serious damage would be a good thing.  As he was putting it back in place, I asked, What are the restrictions on having personal weapons in your quarters?  I was wondering if I had to store the rifle someplace, like an armory, when I'm not using it.

Since we were already on the subject of weapons, I went with another of my questions, too.  I'm actually more used to slugthrowers, than energy weapons.  Does the ship's armory have anything like that?  If he looks puzzled, I'll explain the general process of how the chemical propellent sends a projectile down the barrel.

I make an appointment with him for after dinner for him to show me how the dojo range works and get a little sparring in, as well.  Playtime with Jane was fun, but I knew that I needed to prove my value to these people.  After all, it was a long walk home, otherwise.

I stashed my laser rifle and field gear in my locker, then used my map board to find my way to my class for what would probably be the rest of the afternoon.  It turns out that my map board led me back to engineering for my class on "Emergency Handling Anti-Hydrogen Safely" or something like that.

I went back in.  Hi, it's me again.  Is this where I get a class on Anti-Hydrogen Safe Handling in Emergencies?
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Thu 21 July 2005.

He checks on a few things, talks to the Captain, and the upshot is that since you are hired in large part for your combat skills, that they should leave it up to you to decide what you think is best for the ship.

"Slugthrowers?"  He looks blank.  Then he assures you that they don't have them, except for a couple variable payload bombardiers which sound like large area weapons, or anti-vehicular weapons.

He makes the appt., and then when you come back, jabs a finger at a console.

You start listening, and soon you realize its even duller than you thought possible.  They emphasize every point to ad nauseaum, but then they include with it all sorts of nifty diagrams of the ship disintegrating into a dust cloud expanding outwards at half the speed of light too if you mess up.

PT

I paid close attention to the hydrogen handling material.  I tend to pay very close attention to those things which might get me killed.  I thanked him again for his time and started to leave saying that I would see him at dinner.  I remembered that there was one other question I wanted to ask while I was there, so I stopped just before I left engineering.  Since I'm a combat specialist, are there any restrictions to being armed while on duty?

As I walked back to my shared room, I was a little bummed by the lack of slug throwers, since there were all sorts of references to them in the Sci-Fi novels I devoured while on stake outs, way back when.  Gauss rifles and sliver guns sounded cool.  So did those rifles from Aliens, but I could see the advantage in being able to recharge weapon power packs from the a ship or planetary energy system.

I checked my map board and determined that the catwalk formed a circle at one part of the ship.  I changed into my combat suit and strapped on my combat webbing.  I placed the holstered glock with the two spare mags of ammo in one of the spare pouches for a bit more weight.  I also added two days of combat rations for additional weight.  I mumbled to no one in particular as I set off to go jogging before dinner, You need this, Mist.  You really want to do this, Mist.  I hate lying to myself.

"No, in fact I think that would be appropriate."  The Engineer says.  You nod, and leave.

The running is indeed, not fun, but its not quite as bad as you thought since the gravity field is just a little less than Earth normal. This helps the knees especially. After a while, you get in your groove, and the endorphins start to flow, and you feel yourself truly relaxing for the first time since you've been here.

Your second lap around, you see Jake again, and he laughs and whispers to his wondercart.  It zips along in front of you like a rabbit at a greyhound track, but this "rabbit" has a bottle of water stashed on top of it.  It speeds up when you speed up...


PT

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help myself.  I got my stride back and continued to follow the "rabbit" for I don't remember how many laps.  I must have been in "the zone", because when I looked at my watch, it was time to clean up and get ready for dinner.  I thanked Jake for the use of his cart and reminded myself that I still needed to get one of those... and a blaster.  I was a bit winded, but not all that tired, not as tired as I would expect to be.

My friend, the map pad, showed my way back to my shared room.  I put my combat gear away, ran my clothing through the sonic washer, cleaned myself up, redressed in my casual uniform, and still had time to spare, actually about three minutes, when I walked into the dining area.  I left the Glock stored, since I wanted to verify the weapon regs for onboard ship with the Captain during dinner.

At dinner, you bring up the subject with the Captain, and he informally polls the table.  The general feeling is that it sounds like its legal, and no one has an objection to it, although no one thinks they are in any danger of being boarded by pirates either.

The Captain nods his approval, and goes back to his green bean soup.

You get a couple people wondering if you've finished getting ready, and can now help them with their projects.

PT

About being ready, I tell them that I need to schedule some elective surgery with the Doctor, get some range time in with my rifle and soon-to-be-acquired blaster, get a wondercart, and move into a separate room to get out of Jane's hair.  I think I can fit all that in around helping with some projects.

The food is good, but I'm not really into sit down types of food.  Then, the thought hits me.  Mist, if they still have Maxwell House, maybe I can get a Nathen's.  I eat some, not wanting to be too full for the hand-to-hand session after dinner.  I remembered that the crew does the cooking sometimes.  Maybe, I could help.  I know that we're a little far out for delivery, but do you like pizza?

The Captain arranges for a couple people to help you get a new room set up, and then you can help them with their projects.

"Pizza?" They say with curiousity.

Next day you get some help fixing up your room from some unused cargo space, and your wondercart, and a blaster.  No time for practise that day.  But they are willing to let you make pizza for them the following day or so when you get some time.

PT

OOC: Whats a Nathan's?

OOC:  Just the greatest hot dog in the known galaxy.  Does the blaster come with training ammo packs, too?  What kind of holster is issued with the blaster?

I'm a little miffed that the Engineer had to cancel out of our sparring practice at the last minute.  I understand about things disrupting a schedule.  I've usually been good at disrupting other's schedules, so I understand how it can happen.  It did give me the opportunity to set up my room and draw the rest of my gear, though.  That is a good thing.

After bunking with Jane, having my own room seemed spacious.  It was kind of cool watching them assemble the room out of prefab sections.  I wasn't a lot of construction help, but at least I wasn't in their way.  I did have one minor problem, though.  Jane finially had to show me how to reprogram the map board so that it accepted that it was allowed to show me to my new quarters.  I watched carefully, so that I could maybe I could modify it myself, should the need arise.

The wondercart is almost as cool as the laser rifle and blaster.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it yet, but I have one.  Maybe, I'll name it "Bubba", after an old boyfriend, since the cart will follow me around all day and do whatever I want, just like Bubba did.  I thought about naming it R2, but I would have to scrounge up a dome and some blue and white paint.

I got everything put away quickly.  I didn't have all that much when I arrived, and the new stuff didn't take up all that much space.  There wasn't enough time for any official training, but I did scrounge sone spare time to go jogging.

After "Moving In Day", I awoke a little disoriented.  I almost said "Good morning." to Jane until I remembered that I had my own place.  I dined on another combat ration as I checked the computer to see what my schedule was to be for the day, then got dressed in my casual uniform.  I knew that I was allowed to go armed while on duty, but all I had for their weapons were glorified flashlight batteries.  I decided to wear my shoulder holster with the Glock 17C and the two spare mags with my casual wear uniform.  As I stepped out of the roon, I had a random thought.    Mist, they did say that you could go armed.  I'll bet this wasn't on their radar.

The usual use of a wondercart is to carry stuff around with you--It did away with the back and neck problems of women carrying too heavy purses, and it got used to carry gas masks in dangerous times, along with groceries.

Indeed for dinner, the NavTech does not bring in the giant bowl of salad she made, but her wondercart carries it in, and then she places it on the table.

The reply of your crewmates is a bit quiet to your idea of hot dogs.  And then one says that they did not know you had Korean ancestors.  They are reluctantly willing to try them.

Training ammo packs, and the holster is either a strap on the leg design, or a high on the hip design, your choice.  The engineer also asks if you want the optional zero-g restraints for your weapons so they don't float away out of your hands.

You get in your practise today with shooting and fighting.

You also help out in the garden picking tiny mites off plant leaves with tweezers. The Doc explains that the automated system is off-line while the engineer tries to find its bug.  this is normal in a long interstellar flight...things start breaking, and thats part of the reason for the human crew.

Picking bugs with tweezers was all right.  It wasn't designed as a punishment and I did get to chat a bit with people who stopped by.  I told George, the Engineer, while he was working on the system that the zero-gee weapon restraints for my weapons would be useful.  I also offered to show him my Glock when he had a few minutes.

I announced at dinner that I would be serving pizza tomorrow.  I got their topping suggestions and decided to make three large pies, veggie, meat, and the works.  I'm not a great cook.  OK, I'm a terrible cook.  The only things that I cook well are microwaved dinners, Hamburger Helper, and homemade pizza.

I explained how pizza was the perfect food.  "A good pizza has most of the basic food groups.  You've got your grain in the crust.  Dairy is covered by the cheese.  You've got your veggies and meats in the toppings.  You can eat it hot right from the oven, then stuff the leftovers in the fridge to have cold for breakfast the next morning.  A pizza crust is a blank canvas for an artist to create dinner."  I explained about bacon cheeseburger and taco pizzas, too.  I did notice a some of the crew salivating as I described pizza.  One of them was me.

Jake asks you to make the meat pizza extra-heavy on the meat.  He explains.

"See, there's like no perfect food for everybody. Each person has their own basic diet pattern with oftentimes individual wrinkles.  Me, I'm a high-protein, low carb guy, but I need to eat a banana or some such every week.  The NavTech, well she's 'your balanced person', and the engineer scarfs up spaghetti by the ton when he can, and he keeps his cholesterol low, but occasionally he breaks out for a large steak, but usually its a little thing.

Its partially why we eat such a lot of small dishes so we can keep on our own tracks.  oh, yeah, The Captain, well, he's lucky. He is of the type that can survive on anything."

You begin to see that offering pizza to them is like offering fish to a steak and potatoes man.  It may work, but not as a regular thing.

Just before bed, I went jogging again.  I added a little more weight to my running attire to help build my strength and endurance.  I was developing a pattern.  One day, I would follow my "track" clockwise.  The next day, I would run a counterclockwise pattern.  I hoped that I would remember how to run in a straight line, once back on a planet.

The next morning, on my way to pick up more little bugs, I stopped by Medical and scheduled my implants surgery for the soonest time available tomorrow.  After all, I had pizza to fix tonight.  I also had a question or two for the Doc.  "What type of personal medikit is issued to people around here?  Could I get one and have you show me how to use it?  I've had basic first aid training, but it might be a bit outdated by now."

The Doc grins at you.

"I try to convince others that carrying meds is a good idea, but they mostly grew up where medical care was at most two minutes away.  Even with the wondercarts its a struggle to get them to care."

She hands you a spray/injector (dual function) for applying or inserting a localized blood clotting factor.  She warns you not to use too much of it on your high chest area, or it will kill you as it stops your heart.  It clots very rapidly.

An electrical pain regulator. Use of this in non-emergency is illegal as it can be mildly addictive.

A dozen pills each to mix with water for instant blood and other fluid replacement.

Several other products are handed over as well.  She explains how to use them, and emphasizes what she calls the Three Rules of Trauma Care: Speed, Speed, and Speed! The faster teh care starts the more likely the survival.

The pizza goes over well, and people kick back and relax.  But then that leaves time left over after the meal when nobody has anything to do.

I added the medical kit to my equipment belt back in my room.  Once I qualify well enough with the energy weapons, maybe I can get some live ammo and carry the blaster and stun stick as weaponry.

After dinner, I cleaned up what mess there was in the kitchen or galley or whatever they called it.  There wasn't any pizza left, though.  Afterwards, I got some range time in with my toy ammo loads, then went jogging.  I turned in early because tomorrow, instead of breakfast, I was having surgury to have some implants installed.

The next morning, I cleaned up and dressed in my casual uniform.  Figuring that it would be a good idea, I left my weapons in my room.  I reported to the Doctor at my specified time.  Doc, I'm ready for my hardware upgrades.  Just call me Misty, version 1.1.

It takes about thirty minutes, as she inserts various small items into your chest cavity through tiny holes. And she has you swallow a couple that she says have to go in too deep for a simple insertion; they will swim to their proper location. Then she bandages you up.

"Take the day off. Doctor's orders.  You may feel jittery or irritable at times as these devices adjust themselves to your biochemistry, and you may get sleepy for an hour as they adjust your bio.  Any questions?"

She allows you to use your electrical pain regulator on setting one (of ten).  You've felt more pain from scratching your knee crawling over gravel in your detective duties.

PT

Thanks, Doc.  Do you take Blue Cross?  Never mind.  My membership has expired anyway.  I headed back to my quarters without using the map board.

I ate a combat ration, then sat down to read a history text on the computer screen.  I wanted to see what I had missed.  When I was sleepy, I slept.  When I got hungry, I ate.   The day passed in a nice blur.  At bedtime, I turned the pain control thingie off and put it away.  I could see how it could be addictive.

"Blue Cross? I'm not sure what religious denomination you are has to do with this..."

You read about the founding of the Seventy Colonies, and the creation of the ArtInts who built the jumpgates, and then their war on humanity, and the creation of Superhumans to fight the ArtInts which Superhumans won because they were more cleverly nasty, but then they turned on their fellow humans, and that provoked another battle which the mainstream humans won, but it ended up destroying the interstellar economy to the point where getting into orbit was a major endeavor.  Later the Confederacy or League has begun to reestablish contact across interstellar space, but they are still not up to the level of the Colonial Era.

And that is what your ship is doing, trying to establish contact with one of the assumed to be lost until recently colonies--Bethany System.

I awoke feeling pretty good for having had an invasive medical procedure yesterday.  I wondered just what these little pumps were doing, but figured that the Doc knew what was going on.  At least I hoped that "First, do no harm" was still a valid concept.

I looked carefully at the site where the pumps were installed.  There probably wouldn't even be any scarring.  I was impressed.

I checked my 'puter for the day's assignments.  Oh joy.  I wasn't sure just what "General Ship Maintenance" involved, but there were probably cleaning supplies required.  To kill some time after eating a ration pack and cleaning up, since I seemed to have awakened earlier than usual, I put together a gear belt to wear while wandering about.

I thought it was a good idea to have stuff with me, but then, I always have.  I took the basic field belt and added the medical kit, a pepper spray canister, the blaster and some training ammo mags, a couple of field rations, the stun stick and a couple of recharge packs.  I still needed a canteen, though.  All that with my shoulder holstered Glock and I finially felt dressed.

Now, it's time to go and Maintain the Ship, Generally.

You wake an hour earlier than usual, and feel bright-eyed and cheerful.  Evidently, you are now a morning person.

The General Ships Maintenance involves three aspects: 1)Cleaning areas robots can't reach. So that means lots of inconvenient spots, not great masses of floor or wall.  2)Cleaning spots where robots have broken down, or the program had a bug in it that somehow did every three feet square of a corridor while leaving out another one foot square segment.  3)Fixing the robots.

Its not really mind-numbing work, and you do get to see others as you go, and Jake is with you much of the time, but on the downside it is a pretty big ship, and they would like it down in oh, two days, which has you panting a bit at the fast pace.

However, you note that you recover faster from exhaustion, and from lack of oxygen after a spate of frantic cleaning.

You also find yourself eating about fifty percent more.

OOC: I'm going to make a new thread for the implants to comment on them.

PT

As I'm working, I can't help but wonder if the Doc put a caffine drip pump into me.  I'm not usually a morning person.  All right, I've never been a morning person.

After the official duty day ended, I did my usual after dinner activities.  I got some range time in with my energy weapons, did a bit of strength training, then went jogging.  The weight training session and the jogging afterwards were kind of strange, though.  I added another five kilos to the weights, but was less tired doing more reps than before.  For the jog, I had to add wrist and ankle weights to the rest of my equipment to get the same results.  If this is Misty version 1.1, I think I could get used to it easily.

While jogging, I realized that I've been pretty much a recluse since my arrival.  I'd like to join in with the other's activities, but I still feel like I need to run full speed to catch up to where everyone else is in levels of training.  The pizza seemed to help to break my self-imposed exile.  I knew that I still needed to do more to be more open.  Maybe, I decided, after I qualify with my weapons, get certified at a hand-to-hand combat rating, and learn a lot more about shipboard operations, I'd have time to socialize.

As I ran my clothing through the cleaner, I thought out loud about tomorrow.  Mist, enjoy tonight, for it's back to a life of grime tomorrow.

The next day is indeed more cleaning, more climbing under and atop shelves, and getting out toothbrush sized sonic scrubbers to flake off dirt, and then a vacuum glove ( a vacuum you wear on your hand) to scoop up the dirt before it gets into something important.

And then you open a door to check on a bot cleaning a room full of boxes of soap, and other cleaning supplies.  The white soap rushes past you, waist high, and fills the corridor behind you.  Inside the room, which is now knee-high in soapy water, a bot is madly spurting out foam and water, while grasping with its single arm a refill container on a shelf, preperatory to snapping the box into place in one of its five slots.

PT

I get the heck out of there immediately.  Electric machines and water are not a good mix.  I beat feet for the nearest comm device and call for help.  I tell them where I've got a runaway robot spraying soap and water, the extent of the water damage, and that the Engineer needs to shut off the power to the affected area before the whole place shorts out.  Once that is accomplished, I wait for backup and the power to be cut to the area.

With a tense voice, the engineer clarifies where you are at, and then says.

"Got it."

The power in the area dies flat.  Including your phone, and the lights in your room.  Its pitch black, and except for the sound of water spilling down the hallway, totally, ear-achingly quiet.

PT

Note to self:  Mist, you really need to add a flashlight to your equipment belt.  I pull out my trusty map board and try to turn it on.  I hope it is an inertial model and doesn't require input from external and now unpowered sensors.  I try to use the display as a dim light source and find my way back to a powered section of the ship.

It is a very dim light source, on the order of having five self-lighting LED watches, and you can see a new symbol in the corner which measures power consumption, and remaining energy supply.

You can also see several new icons you are not familiar with.

You slip on out of the room, and into the hallway just in front of the six inch high wavefront, and pushed by it make your way down the hall, bumping into the wall on occasion, but with no serious harm until you outpace the water, and enter a lighted area.

PT

I head to the supply point and attempt to get a handheld lighting unit and whatever they use for a self-contained wet-vac.

You get back to the supply point, convince the system to issue you what you want, and get back about fifteen minutes later.  The rest of the crew is already getting started on cleaning, and they are not happy about it.

An hour later, the water is cleaned up, and you can tell that several of the crew would like to blame you, but they can't think of a reason.

"Ok, folks, not a tragedy.  Could have been serious, but our new crew thought quick.  Now this does mean, that we have to break down all the similiar cleaning bots to look for similiar faults."

There is a general groan.

"You know the procedure." The Captain reminds his gloomy crew.

"This is going to take a week of double shifts." The Navtech says.

PT

I can't recall having been this tired for a while.  Even though I didn't break the robot, I still worked as hard as everyone else to check them.  It was slow going at first, but I caught up with the others.  I can say that I now know a lot more about robotics than I had ever planned on learning, at least where a particular type of cleaning bot is concerned.  I didn't find any glitches in the other cleaning robots.  I wondered if anyone else did, but I was too tired to ask anyone.

In addition to the double maintenance shifts, I tried to get in some range time each night.  I know it wasn't expected of me, but a CCL4 who isn't qualified with her primary weapons doesn't seem to be very combat oriented to me.  Some nights, it seemed like I was operating on autopilot walking back to my room.

At last, the robot maintenance detail was completed.  I was very happy to be able to check the 'puter to see what my next day's activities were scheduled to be.  I wondered when the crew would get over being miffed at me for something I didn't do.

At the end of the week, the Captain orders a mandatory day of rest (only absolutely essential work to be done).  He also, for lunch breaks out one of the prepared feasts from the cold locker which are for such situations.

He lays the spinach salad, the fried green tomatoes, the lamb kibabs, the crab salad, the cotton candy, the bell peppers stuffed with spicy hot and melted cheeses, the marinated in lemon sauce chicken legs, and the salted nuts onto the table, and pops the button.  A minute later, the wrapping uncovers itself, and steaming, or chilled as needs dishes are ready to eat.

"Dig in, folks. While you chow, I'd like to commend the whole crew for their hard work. Our engineer proved that his speed was the speed of five people because his heart is half pure. The pilot discovered two faults which could have been very problematic later.  Everyone gave it their all.

I'd like to raise the ranks on Jake and our newest crew, Misty, by one each to reflect the fact that they are now intimately familiar with the innards of the Zb9 Cleaning Robot.  I'd also like to commend Misty for her quick thinking which saved us from some really difficult rewiring of corridors, and kept her otu of the doctor's tender mercies."

A general cry of "hear, hear." and they dig into the food. Sometime in the middle of the week they got over their snit, but you were too busy to notice.  Later, you note that the computer has you listed as CCL5 with a WSA (Wise Service Award).

PT

While everyone is gathered for the meal, I did want to make small talk with them.  I'm just not sure what to talk about, though.  I'm not sure that they would be interested in hearing about the Dale Brown techno-thriller I had just finished in my other life.  I can't see them interested in the science fiction novels or movies from over nine hundred years ago.  So, I went with an old adage which has served me well...  "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt."

That being said, I did want to talk with several of the crew about certain things.
I wanted to arrange a time to drop by the Doc's to learn how to reload my pumps and maybe get a set of reloads to take along.  I wanted to schedule another hand-to-hand sparring session with the engineer.  I also wanted to thank Jane for putting up with me during my first few days on board.  I did have one more question, which I asked.  Did a card game called poker make it into the future?

That afternoon, I went to the 'puter to check out the requirements for qualifying with laser rifle and blaster.  I also wanted to learn the procedures for getting certified in hand-to-hand combat.

They are not all that talkative today either.  Instead, they are enjoying having the job done, and recuperating from the double shifts.

They do talk about the mission, and several people mention Lord Roggio.  It seems the Bethany System was thought long lost, and then some low-tech survivor managed to get an interstellar capable lasercom working. He told the Confederacy of his life, and loves, and his troubles, and in due time got back responses, and a promise of a ship to come.

Doc schedules a meet for tommorrow, as does the Engineer.

Jane laughs and says you were good company.

"Oh yes, we play poker, once a week when we can.  You want in?"

The qualifications are three fold.  One a written test for knowledge.  Two demonstrating proper maintenance and basic fixes.  Three, shoot a holographic course with a minimum time and accuracy.

It looks like something that will require study (especially the fixes), but will be mostly not that difficult considering your already gained skills with a pistol.

The Engineer is the certifier for martial arts, or what passes for it, since he's only familiar enough with a few forms to make a reasonable judgment theron.

PT

Oh, yes.  I do want to join the game.  Way back when, we played for money.  What do you use to ummm... keep score?  I'm a little light on cash, you see.  I have some what used to be state of the art and pricey surveillance gear, but there isn't a museum or a pawn shop close by to try and sell it.  I don't know how much a CCL5 makes.  I'm reasonably sure that a CCL5 makes more than a CCL4, but I have no idea how much a CCL4 makes either.  It's not like there's a Mall nearby to go shopping, so I didn't look wage scales up on the computer.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading manuals about the blaster, getting the information on effective ranges, emergency procedures, and other vital things for passing a weapon qualification exam.

That evening, it was back to strength training, weapon practice, and jogging.  Don't tell anyone, but I was getting to like jogging.

I went to bed at my new usual time.  Just before falling asleep, I remembered that I needed to check my schedule first thing in the morning.

OOC: I've got a new use for an implant, thanks Misty.

And is that Dale Brown book--Act of War/read it about two weeks ago.

IC: You wake up the hour early with a chipper feeling, and then clearly remember that you were supposed to check your schedule first thing in the morning. Upon thinking about it, you realize that you remember certain things, not everything, but certain things better now than before.

PT

OOC:  I've been on a Dale Brown binge lately.  I've read "Sky Masters", "Shadows of Steel", "Silver Tower", "Flight of the Old Dog", "Day of the Cheetah", "Hammerheads", and three of the Dreamland series in the last six weeks.  "Night of the Hawk" or something like that is in my pickup.  It's the one where they tie up a loose end from "Old Dog".  I love used bookstores.  I'll look for "Act of War" next.

BIC:  I get ready, as usual.  I check my assignments while nibbling on a combat ration.  I'm about out of the mealpacs.  I'll need to either get another case of them, or get myself over to the dining area for regular meals.  I wonder when the supply point opens.

I look forward to qualifying with the blaster.  Maybe I can draw some real charge packs then instead of the flashlight batteries I've been using on the range.  I remember the Captain saying something about moving too fast for AltInts to board.  As we slow in moving toward the system, I'd feel a lot better with real blaster loads in case of an attack.  (Hey, just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean that you don't have enemies.)

OOC: I read Flight of the Old Dog in I think Reagan's term of office.  Probably his best book.

Act of War starts a new series with battle armour as its focus.  Its probably only out in hardcover so far. Sorry.

IC: The supply point is open 24/7 as long as you have authorization which you do.

You think you might be able to pass the blaster written now, especially with your new memory.  The blaster shot test seems to be well in hand what with your pistol skills.  The chief differences are 1)A blaster fires once every five seconds...max. Pull too early, and it has to reset. Pull too late, and you're wasting time. 2)short range, up to twenty yards for max effect, thirty its a laser for effect, forty they might not notice it. 3)lots of damage, but the kick is not bad for someone used to pistols (if you were a laserist like most people in the future it'd be a shock.)

That just leaves weapon maintenance for the blaster, but you don't have to take the tests all at once.

PT

I swing by the Medical Area at the previously scheduled time.  Doc, I'd like you to show me how to recharge my pumps.  Also, if you don't mind, would it be all right to have a set or two of reloads for them?  You see, I'm not sure how I got here in the first place.  I'm also not sure that the whatever which got me here will leave me here.  This sounded strange to me.  I could only imagine how it sounded to her.  There was this show called "Quantum Leap" where the hero bounced around in time doing things which helped others.  After he helped them, he shifted in time to another location.  Maybe I'm like that guy.  I discovered the psycho maintenance bot.  Maybe the water would have shorted out several systems and crippled the ship.  I don't know.  I must sound demented to you, but you need to realize that I'm really concerned, all right then, scared over geting shifted again.  I need to be ready.

That sounded lame to me and I was there.  I couldn't help but think...    You screwed up, Mist.  They're going to take your weapons and gear and put you in the futuristic version of a rubber room.

She hands you some pills with instructions.

"These will migrate to the appropriate slots, and deposit their load.  Miniature submarine cargo carriers.  Just swallow them on an empty stomach, no food preferably in the last twelve hours."

Then she looks slowly at you, and speaks slowly, distinctly and seriously (as is her customary manner).

"Misty, yes, it sounds weird, but everything I or the Engineer knows says you should not have landed on this ship. Yet you did.  Therefore, I think you are being wise since you don't really know what is going on.

And yes, the bot could potentially, not likely but maybe done crippling damage.  At the very least, it would have done major damage.  We would have been re-wiring for a month, and lost some critical food supplies for when the cryos awake.

Now, if you're worried about your sanity, I can give you a test, but I can tell already that you will land in the Acceptable without Any Supervision, and possibly in the Optimal level. Which is saner than me since about every three months I have a little chat with a pschy-program because I occasionally let my fears get out of hand, and start 'freaking out' as your people said."

PT

Thanks, Doc.  That means a lot to me.  It really does.  One thing though, are all these pills for one recharge?.  I left there feeling better about this whole starship thing.  Doc was from this time and stuff still bothered her.

I headed to supply and returned all of my expended training ammo charges and drew new ones.  While I was there, I got a case of combat rations to take back to my room.  Even without my wondercart, the box of food wasn't too difficult to manage.  I think the weights and jogging were starting to help.  Walking back with it, I rationalized that the combat meals were just for emergencies.  I told myself that  I would spend most mealtimes with my crewmates.

I then headed over to the gym/range to do some final practicing with the blaster before trying to qualify.  I just had to remember that the blaster had the effective range and kick of a snubnosed .44 Spl revolver.  I was still there when the Engineer arrived for our sparring session.

I shucked my gear and went over to him.  "Hi.  Think we can do this one for the record?  I need to be certified in unarmed combat.  Also, who certifies weapon qualifications?"


OOC:  The Dale Brown binge continues.  I picked up "Battle Born" and "Wings of Fire" today for less than ten dollars.

The doc separates them out.

"Take this set of five, the green pills, all together, and then yellow next time, purple next time, and orange last time.  By then, you'll need a general checkup, and retuning, and some filters will need replacement."

So its four overall sets.  About two years worth.

The Engineer nods,and then walks back into a closet space you had not realized was there.  He pulls out a pair of suits, dark rubberish with large colored patches.

"Full contact body armor.  Unfortunately its as finicky as they come, or it would be in regular use instead of just for tests.  Unlike pads, it allows a full range of movement, perhaps only .05% speed decline, and it provides superior protection."

He slips his on, and then you do likewise.  It flows on, helping you get it on.  its partially robotic.

"Stage One. Lighted patches will glow on my armor. Hit them as hard and as fast as you can.  But first, I get to prove it works."

He tags your chest with a kick which you hardly feel.  He nods, and then snaps out a full-force reverse roundkick that connects with your stomach even as you try to block it.  It lifts you off the ground, and it feels like you got swacked by a flyswatter from head to toe.  But, your ribs aren't broken...

"That proves to you and me that it works.  Which is regulation."  He then pauses with an evil grin.  "There will be a lot more of that in Stage Three. Still want to test?"

After I get back up, I smile back at him.  That was your get out of jail free card.  You only get one in the pack.  Let's dance.

You spend some time kicking and hitting various patches on his armor as they light up; its like a martial arts version of Whack-a-mole.  Your hits are judged on accuracy, speed of response, and force.

"You pass Stage One."  The Engineer says with relief.

Stage Two is more difficult as he is allowed to protect himself, and you are allowed to use your own attack patterns.  You're getting seriously tired, and then he waves a hand from the ground where you had dumped him.

"Congrats, thats Stage Two."

He then rolls to his feet, and forces himself to give you a five minute break.

"Now, Stage Three, as you say, let's dance."

He drops into a boxing stance, but his feet come down hard, and stay put, like he was bolted to the floor through the padding.  He then starts advancing with a flurry of punches, not really meant to hit you (but you do have to block or they will) but more meant to force you into a corner.

PT

This guy is fast and strong and good.  I wanted to think of something clever to say, but I couldn't spare the time or the wind needed to respond.  Still, I wasn't as exhausted as I could have been.  I wasn't sure if it was because of the lower gravity, the training, or the bio-upgrades, but whatever it was worked.

I had to time this properly or I would end up as kibble.  I deflected a punch outwards, and instead of stepping backward as I had been, I stepped forward into a combination leg sweep and hip throw to hopefully to break his balance and take him down, hard.  After he landed, I planned on landing a volley of strikes to his midsection to take away some of his wind before I rolled out past him into the center of the room.

You knock his arm up, step in, and he tries to knee you in the gut which only makes the leg sweep easier.  You dump him hard indeed, and get in a strike, and then another one, and then he lands a shin into your rib cage, and you take the momentum and the cue as your time to get clear.

He gathers himself to his feet quickly.  Not graceful, or with a showoff bounce, but like a bear, a little fat, but quick and enormously strong.

"Nice takedown." He says begrdugingly.

PT

Thanks.  We can't use the moves we would in actual combat, since we both have to work tomorrow.  I smiled and settled into a loose combat stance.  Ready for the next song?

He walks slowly toward you, and then suddenly slams a kick into your thigh, just above the knee.  He's lunging in now with a planned left hook followed by an elbow in the face, as you are a bit off-balance.

PT

Dammit!!  Nobody's supposed to be that fast.  I attempt to grab his arms and since I'm already off balance, use the momentum to roll backwards, tucking as I drop to get my legs against his thighs.  With luck, I'll be able to...

Crap!  I missed the grab.  I'll just have to roll out backwards to buy a few seconds to recover.

You surprise him a bit, and escape, but then as you roll he pursues.  He keeps trying to slam his foot down on you, as you keep rolling away.  You can see he is getting red in the face, and beads of sweat are flying everywhere from him.

PT

As he strikes once again, I pivot slightly and drive my foot upward into his groin just as hard as I can.  This guy is too tough to play with and I'm getting as tired as he looks.  I really hope that these suits are as good as he says they are.

You slam your kick into his groin, and he hits the ground.

Then he sits up.

"That would be a disabling move, if we weren't wearing suits. Congratulations, you passed Stage Three, and are now certified."

He gets up a bit gingerly, but seems to be okay.

After you get out of the suits, he speaks again.

"There's something that you need to work more on. I'm surprised that you didn't seem to be using it."  He pulls out some sort of scanner or something,and waves it over your chest.

It beeps, and then you feel...something.

Your pain fades, the room seems to slow down, colors are more defined, and your hands are flexing, ready for further battle. You feel strong, sure, and quick.

He shakes his head ruefully.

"Well, now I'm embarrassed. You kicked my head in, and without engaging your adrenal pump.  You can run it for a good bit, but after a few minutes the jolt starts losing effect.  Not something you want to use regularly, but in hard combat, it can save your life. Now, I'm going to go sit down in the shower, get over the shakes."

He leaves, and in a couple minutes you feel yourself coming down from the artificial adrenaline rush.  Your hands are shaking, and your breath pants, and your deepest desire is to find a chair to flop into.

PT

I began to stagger to the Medical Bay.  I just had to keep one foot going, then the other one.  It was more of a challange than the fight.  I finially got there after several years of walking.  I don't know how got there, opened the door, and entered the area, but I did.  I'm not sure who was there, if anyone.  The room was spinning and it was getting grey around the edges.  I tried to call for help.   I need...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:05, Sun 28 Aug 2005.

You fall into the doctor's doorway, and suddenly you feel padded metal arms lifting you up onto a bed. The doctor is standing beside you, with a metal arm in the ceiling handing her supplies like a nurse.

"Your adrenal boost overboosted because you were already over-exercised, and because that idiot engineer keeps wanting to treat biology like engineering. I'm going to give you some similiars to mimic the effect, but more calmly pick you back up, and then slowly ease you down."

You feel a bit better, and then sleepily drift off.

I was released for duty a couple of days later.  Maybe there were a few glitches in getting Misty Version 1.1 up and running, but overall, it seemed to be working out well.  Since I'm now officially certified in unarmed combat, my next step is to qualify with my new weapons, the stun stick, blaster pistol and the laser rifle, while still keeping up with my daily assignments.  Oh yeah, and I also need to keep doing the jogging and weight training, too.

Over the next week, you get qualified with the blaster, and loaded with real ammo.  It somehow seems heavier, even though you are assured thats impossible.

The Engineer apologizes most uncomfortably, and hands you a gift.  Its a snapstick, a metal rod a foot long that can extend variably up to eight feet long with the command of the user.

The Captain also comes by, and with a twinkle in his eye informs you of policy...one is not allowed to die without prior filling out of the requisite forms.

The Navtech also tells you that she would be glad to get back to learning when you feel more up to it.

Next time the Engineer fights you, he treats you gently until you yell at him to stop it.

PT

For the first time, I felt like a real Level Five Combat Consultent after I had qualified with the blaster and unarmed combat.  I still felt a little wierded out with owning my own energy weapon, but I was getting used to it.  Next, I needed some carry equipment.

I figured out, using my free time and eventually and with a little help, how to have the supply point fabricate a righthanded crossdraw belt holster and two double mag pouches for my Glock of the same material used in the standard issue holster for the blaster.  I also had a basic black shoulder rig made up for the blaster with a double battery pack under the other arm.  Just because I had the chance, I also made up two thigh holsters.  The right thigh holster would hold the snapstick.  The left thigh holster would hold the stun stick.

I tried out the full rig in the privacy of my quarters while wearing my "A" ship uniform.  The Glock in the CD holster rode just right.  The blaster on my right hip was just in the right position.  The two thigh holsters rested snugly along my legs.  The reloads, four for each weapon, sat securely in their places on my gear/gun belt, along with the first aid kit, flashlight, and the pouch holding two ration packs.

I looked in the mirror.  I almost didn't recognize the person staring back at me.  I knew the pattern of the face, but it seemed like the person inside had changed.  I knew that I was looking at a body which was in better shape than it had been for a long time.  Thrown into a strange situation, that person seemed to have adapted and maybe even thrived in the new circumstances.  I smiled at the person in the mirror and she smiled back.

I stepped out into the corridor to resume my new life.  After dinner, I was going to work out with Jane and maybe teach her a few new moves.

They like the new look at dinner, and subtly it seems to have an effect.  Like you are now 'for real'.

After dinner, you stretch with the Navtech, and then start teaching her some blocks.  Its slow going because, she's been taught to avoid blocks.  At one point, she gets frustrated, and goes off to the other side of the room to pound a boxing bag.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next week, you finish up with the laser blaster certs, and you're good to go.  Then the Captain drops by.

"Interested in getting a Six?"  He says with a charming grin that hides something.

"Cause, we need to scrape some coolant leak debris off the outer hull.  Its suit work, and not for the agoraphobic, but if you want to qualify as an Able-Bodied Spacer, its one of the essential reqs to be proficient in EVA work.  Not that everyone on board is ABS. I am, and so is the Engineer and the Pilot is close to making it."

Then he puts aside his smile.
"Seriously, if you are not up for it, its no problem. It can be dangerous, and it is scary for many."

PT

Of course I'll volunteer, Sir.  I thought about saying something else, but I didn't want to sound stupid.  It might be dangerous doing an EVA, but if I was careful, it shouldn't be a problem.  I'll start suit training right away.

Able-Bodied Spacer sounds really great, like I really belong.  Besides, being a Six has got to pay better than being a Five, however much that is.  I have been meaning to look up how much that is, but given that there isn't anyplace to spend it, I'm not all that worried about it.

You start training which involves tapes to learn jargon, and concepts; computer games to make sure you have an idea of how this works; putting on and taking off the suit with the Pilot as your instructor; and listening to the last radio calls of someone who walked outside a sublight starship,and got disconnected from a ship slowing itself and spun out into space to slowly die of lack of oxygen.

If you are still enthused...the Captain takes you outside at the end of four days.

Able Bodied Spacer is a classification for someone who is physically, mentally, and skill-wise able to do most of the important jobs on a starship, at least in a half-baked fashion.  It does not raise your rank like from 4 to 5, but it does multiply whatever money you make by 20%, and it is a requirement for Command.

Money you make...you are a skilled technician with danger pay bonuses for the overall job, for being a combat consultant, and if the mission is successful you recieve a teeny, teeny fraction of a bonus based on how much money Bethany System taxes turn out to be.  So right now, its a middle class salary with possibility of great improvement.

PT

My brain hurts.  I'm cramming what would probably take at least a month of NASA training into four very long days.  I'm betting that my new onboards have something to do with my brain not melting or exploding from everything I've been stuffing into it.

I did have a couple of questions after listening to the radio messages from the drifting spacer.  Since I have always had a problem with shooting off my mouth, and usually hitting myself in the foot when I do it, I asked my question.  Don't you guys use EVA suit thrusters?  A NASA crewmember from my time could have puffed a few squirts of compressed gas and gotten back home.  Also, don't you guys beleive in safety lines?  If these guys don't have anything like that on hand, maybe the Engineer might like a small challange of kitbashing some gear for me.

Other than the safety gear issue, I insisted that my suit have a blaster holster and slots for several spare mags.  Since I'm a CCL5, I hoped that they would agree to it.

"Yeah, we have thrusters, but you see, the ship was decelerating, and any puny little suit thruster is not going to be able to match the multi-gigaton thrust of an interstellar ramscoop fuelled by anti-hydrogen.

And we do use safety lines, but this, ah, idiot, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he was, he disconnected his line to get around something easier."


PT

Somewhat reassured, I followed the Captain to the airlock.  We suited up, checking each other's seals to insure that everything was right.  I checked the telltales on my forearm.  The suit was fully charged with air and power.  All systems were working perfectly.

The Captain asked me one last time if I was up to this.  I reassured the Captain that I really wanted to do this.  Anyone from my time who had read even a fraction of the science-fiction which I had read, would have considered themselves to have died and gone to heaven to get to do this.  I stopped for a moment.  Maybe that is what had happened to me.  I shook that thought off.  I'm not dead and I'm trying really hard to not get dead, too.

The Captain depressurized the airlock, then opened the external door.  I just stood at the doorway, staring out.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't even think about moving.  I could hear the Captain's voice in my ears but I couldn't make out what he was saying.  Finially, I got my voice back.  It...  is... so... beautiful...

You wander out onto the outer hull with the Captain nearby giving you calm and pleased explanations of small things until you regain your composure.

"Indeed, it is.  This to me is one of the high points of the voyage. When I first walked outside a starship, I changed. Till then, I'd been a skeptic, but looking out at the stars, I could not but see how beautiful they were, and wonder why beauty existed, and after that I knew there was Someone or Someones or I don't know, but more than just soulless matter."

You see the Captain staring out into space, in awe.

PT

I continue to stare at stars unfiltered by atmosphere.  I could hear a small voice inside of me saying, Mist, you have a job to do.  Mist, you have a job to do. Mist...  Reluctantly, I turned to face the Captain.  It was all so unreal.  I had watched broadcasts of spacewalks and quite a few sci-fi movies, but this was so far beyond any previous experience.  I had to focus.  My life depended on doing everything right the first time.   So, where is this coolent patch?

The Captain guides you down toward the tail of the ship to where a huge bulge ripples out from the conical hull.  There are four such bulges, for the four engines.

Since the ship is decelerating, you are actually now looking in the direction you are going.

The Captain points out a small, white dot in space that is dead ahead.

"Bethany. Four months to go, and we're decelling hard."

He then points to a basketball sized court area on the white hull covered with purple feathery frost about half an inch thick.  He pulls out what looks like two paint scrapers, hands you one, and then shaves smoothly a yard long fleck off the frozen coolant.  Which he then runs into a small circular metal device, about the size and shape of a car wheel rim, but far more complicated looking.  The shaving goes into an intake nozzle. And a bag expands on the other side of the "car rim".

"Yet another operation the mechs have broken down for, but like plucking mites off leaves, I don't mind this one."

PT

I payed my safety line behind me as I slowly walked over to the site.  Walking is a lot more complicated out here.  I followed my training and did not have both feet unsecured at the same time.  Unlock-Place-Lock, then to the other foot.  Unlock-Place-Lock, then back to the first foot.  The Captain moves a lot faster than I do, but do you think I care?

I worked with the Captain, scraping my purple coolent strips into his recycler.  I don't know what this stuff is, so I tried to keep it from touching any part of my suit.  I kept up a stream of conversation as we worked, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that I actually disliked getting the bugs off of the plants.  I know why it was important, but I'm just not a bug-loving kind of girl.

Since this was my first time out, I probably checked my forearm telltales more than necessary.  I didn't want to lose track of time and run low on air.  These boots were definitely not made for sprinting back to the airlock.

Looking at Bethany and hearing the Captain mention that we were decelerating reminded me of something he had said when I first arrived.  I had what I thought was an important question.  This is a very important mission, right?  Captain, when I arrived, you mentioned that we were travelling too fast for AltInts to dock.  Since we're slowing down, when will we be travelling slow enough for AltInts to dock?

"Its not very likely at all, since we mostly deleted them, and chased the survivors out of Human Space, but the fastest I've heard is at 1% of lightspeed, and I've planned on setting the alarms and the radar at 2% just to be on the safe side.

It will be another two and a half months before there is any problem.

The only reason I mentioned it with you, is that we have no clue how you got here.  Makes nonsense of our science, it does.

I think the real problem is going to be when we land.  From the sounds of it, civilization is being pressed by barbarians.  We have to turn this around, and make people who use swords and arrows in frequent war to be fit citizens of an interstellar confederacy that uses lasers, and is mostly peaceful."

PT

Laughing, I reassured the Captain as I put another strip of purple gunk into the collecter, How I got here didn't make a lot of sense to me either, so I guess that makes us even.

Unlock-Place-Lock.  Unlock-Place-Lock.  As I worked, I found that stripping purple coolent from a starship hull in flight with a paint scraper was actually kind of fun.  Captain, are you concerned about any residual coolent traces on the hull?  These scrapers are working nicely, but mechanical removal can't get all of it.  I felt very stupid as soon as I said it.  This is his ship and his time period.  If he was worried, he would have some way of fixing it.

While working, I had another random thought.  Call it paranoia if you want, but listening to my inner self has kept me alive, so far.  Mist, if you're out here scraping up the result from a coolent leak, they would have already fixed the leak, right?

"We don't need to get up all of it.  Just most of it.  And tommorrow, we can plug the leak.  Its a bit challenging."

He points off to a protrusion that looks like a bush of purple frost.

"Thats the leak point.  Its dripping out, and most is adhering to the ship the way the material is designed to, but enough is sticking to itself to make that plume.  which if it broke free could be a hazzard to the ship.  But I want you to get practised before we fix that."

PT

Ummm... this is my first time standing on the outside of a flying starship.  How do you define challenging, Captain?  The thing was still leaking?  I tried to estimate just how much coolent had already leaked and wondered how much of the purple coolent the system still had in it.  I had an engine go south on me in Arizona once.  I imagined a starship engine going south for lack of coolent would be a lot worse, especially if you happened to be standing over the engine when it goes.

Trying really hard to change the subject, I asked, Would you like me to teach your people some basic sword skills before we arrive?

"Nothing you can't do without a little help and supervision, Misty.  Don't worry, I'll be here.  Well, I think it would be good exercise, and it would help fill up the days which is a chief problem for such ships.  Boredom can be lethal. So yes, set something up, and run us through it."

He doesn't seem to find the actual use of swords to be likely, but he's willing to have you teach your hobby.

PT

I liked his definition of challenging better than mine.  My definition involves something causing me injury if I screw it up.  We were almost to the purple coolent bush leak site now.

Truth be told, I was getting a little tired and sore.  I didn't realize until today how much I depended on gravity to help define my movements.  My muscles had to relearn movement in this new envorinment.  I was probably working much harder than needed.  The Captain certainly made it look easy.

I looked at my scraper, then at the coolent mound.  I couldn't see a way to take apart the glob of coolent with the scraper without knocking loose a bunch of chunks.  Captain, I don't think these scrapers will do much against the stuff at the leak site.  Have you got a giant Baggie to slip over the coolent leak site?  We could trap all of the loose purple chunks which could break free and get most of the stuff in one go around.

"Misty, I was planning on leaving that until tommorrow.  Unless you really want to tackle it today.

What we have is a 'bag-maker', a mechanical spider about a foot long, and a pound in mass, which can wrap it up.  It will cover the plume, and leave a 'dome' self-sealing bandage over the leak.  We then break off the plume, hoping not to start a bad leak, and slip our hands under the dome,and chisel out the leak hole, and then stuff it with sealant while the coolant is covering our hands, and freezing and expanding.  If we do it right, and do it quick enough before another plume gets in our way, then we have to scrape things down again, but just in the near area, and finish covering over the plug.

Quick and sure movements are a must unless you want to do it twice or more."

PT

"That sounds like fun, but I don't think I'm up for it today.  Who would have thought working without weight could be so tiring?"  I was ready to call it a day, surrounded by the endless night as we were.  We finished up what we could, then I clomped behind the Captain back to the airlock.  After I serviced the suit, I would be ready for some food and bed.

You head in, and have to force yourself to eat.  The others laugh a bit as you begin to nod off twice in the midst of the meal.  You don't remember walking to your quarters, and falling into bed.

But the next morning, you feel almost decent.  Not horribly wrecked as you would without your implants.

Upon getting outside, the Captain and you note a flash of light a hundred feet wide in front of the ship, and it feels like the ship shudders a bit under your feet.

"Its ok." He says, but then orders some quick checks through his com.  Relieved at the answer, he turns to you.  "We hit a speck of dust off our magnet shield in front of the ship.  But there is only one."

If I hadn't had my boots locked down, I probably would have jumped right off the ship when the dust hit the shield.  I forced myself to take several deep breaths to calm down.  That was ummm... impressive.   As it was, I was glad that the suit had plumbing fixtures already installed.  Can the ship sensors detect dust ahead of the ship?  I would have thought that something the size of a particle of dust wouldn't have enough mass to register.

Suddenly, I wanted to be off the hull and back inside.  I considered how much dust collected in my apartment back when.  Where there was one bit of dust, there was probably more.  If the ship reacted that badly with one piece, I didn't want to be outside when it ran over a dust bunny.

So... it this where you get out the little bagweaver robot?  The sooner we got off the hull, the better I would like it.

"Its way past my understanding, but at some level information and mass are the same thing, and we can 'ask' the mass if it is in front of us.  And no I don't understand it either.  Very few people do.

But we have occasional problems, which is what the backup shield is for.  They are supposed to be dispersed well ahead of us, and slowly so we can use the energy."

He pulls out a small box, pops it open, and out crawls an eight-legged metal spider about a foot wide.  It crawls down his leg, and the Captain checks to see if it is working right.

It is, and promising to show you how to use it later, teh Captain walks it over to the plume which is obviously bigger than yesterday.  The little bot starts wrapping a sheet around teh plume.  Once the plume is completely covered, the bot begins to form an eight inch tall dome at the hull surface.

"Now, listen carefully.  I want quick, precise movements.  If you do goof up, don't apologize, just fix it.  You're goign to slide your hands under teh edge of the bandaid, and plunk this gunk into the hole, after I break off teh plume and you use this pinhole scraper to get any solid coolent out of teh leak hole."

PT

First, break off the plume.  Second, poke coolent from hole.  Third, use sealer goo in hole.  Don't screw up.  Right?  I swallowed hard.  I had to remind myself that even if this was rocket science, I had an expert with me.  It was a simple patching job.  Things would be fine.  What could possible go wrong?

He jerks the plume, struggles, and it snaps off.  You quickly, but with one nervous bobble with your left hand slip your hands in even as ...

A spear of frozen coolent lances from the pole, and punches the Captain in the face mask, knocking him spinning back.  It drifts off, and more of this coolent, about six inches worth pushes up, and hangs in the hole.

The coolent is also bubbling out of the hole, and it looks more energetic, and bubbly than you would expect.

Murphy's come calling....

PT

I grabbed the sealent, crouched, then released my boot grabbers as I jumped toward the Captain.  The couple of seconds seemed like forever until I got to him and slapped some sealent goo over the cracked suit faceplate.  I couldn't tell if he was all right.  I'm not sure that I could tell you if I was all right, either.

I yelled into my comm system, Emergency!  Emergency!  Medical, stand by to recieve the Captain at the airlock.  He took a severe impact to the face, damaging his faceplate.  Engineering!  Do whatever you have to to reduce the engine coolent pressure.  We're blowing through coolent like a sailor on shore leave.

As I was screaming, I hit both of our lifeline emergency rewinder signals.  As we flew toward the airlock, I put myself between the Captain and the ship to break his impact upon landing.  He might have been weightless, but he damm sure wasn't massless when he smashed me into the side of the lock.  I was bruised, but I still managed to hit the emergency close control to cycle the airlock.  Dammit, Captain, you can't die on me until you have all the proper forms filled out.

I knew that I had to go back out there as soon as the Captain was secured.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:48, Fri 16 Sept 2005.

As the airlock closes you hear a mumbled. "Whaaaa!" From the engineer.  It sounds like he was sound asleep.  You repeat yourself, and as the inner lock opens, the Doc flies around the corner followed by her wondercart, and with the Pilot in tow.

"Lay him down, now!" She orders, and then says "Captain. Close your eyes." She then brings a hammer down sharply on the face mask.  The Captain looks rough.  He has a 'sunburn' which is capillaries bursting you remember from your studies, and he has an odd pallor, and once the mask is breached you can smell an acrid chemical odor from the gunk.

Happily, the glass seems to be safety glass of a sort, and so the Captain is not too badly cut up from shards.  The doc injects him with several substances, and checks her monitors.

"Captain you held your breath, didn't you?"  She shakes her head, but its more of a fond rebuke than something truly worried.  "You just bought yourself two weeks in bed."

"I need someone outside right now. If that leak is not fixed in ten minutes, I'm going to have to go full shutdown on the engines.  I'm getting some off numbers on the coolent."  The Engineer's voice blares through the ship.

You can see the Pilot is suiting up, but it will be a couple minutes still.  The Captain struggles to hand you his bag-weaver robot.

PT

I take the bag-bot from the Captain.  Clear the airlock.  I'm suited up and I'm going out.  I reseal my helmet, cycle the lock, and head back out.  I attach my safety line to a contact point just outside of the airlock so that the airlock can cycle once I'm out.

Instead of clomping my way along, I pull myself along the ship until I get most of the way to the area of the leak.  Using the suit thrusters, I manage to get one foot locked on the hull.  I walk to the site as quickly as I can.  I squeeze some of the goo into my hand and shape it into a crude plug.  I use one of my thrusters to harden it into shape.  I added more goo around the edges of the makeshift plug.  I leaned forward, keeping my body out of the way of the coolent flow, then quickly broke off the coolent projection and jammed the plug into the hole as hard as I could.  I quickly swung a boot over the hole and magna-locked it in place to hold the plug down so that the goo had time to harden and hopefully seal off the leak.  I really hoped that the boot lock was stronger than the coolent pressure.

I radioed in.  I am attempting to hold a sealent plug in place with a magna-locked boot.  Engineering, how is the coolent holding out?  Were you able to reduce the pressure any?  I hadn't been out here very long, but it sure was getting lonely.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Fri 16 Sept 2005.

"Misty, um, I'm reading that their are multiple pressure differences in the tank.  Did you hit the tank with something really heavy, say crash into it with your thrusters on full?  Because parts of the tank are swishing back and forth from the stable cool state, to an unstable cool plus one state.  By the way, did you get any on your suit, because in plus one state, the coolent is corrosive to long carbon chain molecultes, such as form part of your suit.

I'm trying to decide if I should flush the tank, or let it settle, or I really prefer not maxing the engines to try to boost the coolent to its two state."

Did I get any on my suit?  How should I know?  I was kind of busy at the time.  "The only crashing was at the airlock getting the Captain to medical care.  I don't know about the rest of my suit, but I'm sure that I got something on my boot since I'm using it as a pressure bandage on the leak.  Also, I like the idea of letting it settle.  Assuming the plug holds, that should take care of the problem until a permanent fix gets done."  This wasn't sounding very good at all.  "The problem with the tank might have started with the pressure release which took down the Captain.  If I have this plus stuff on me, how long will my suit last?"

I had a very troubling thought.  I just applied a powerful glue to the bottom of my boot and pressed it against the hull.  I released the magna-lock on that boot and attempted to lift my foot.  It didn't move.  I took a deep breath and tried really, really hard not to panic.

"Hmmh, could be. It usually requires an impact, but a sudden lowering of pressure might cause sudden pockets of higher pressure which could conceivably do it.

As to how long you have, uh, well, it all depends on how much you got on you.  I would scrape any you have on you off with one of your metal tools on your belt."

He sounds deliberately vague on the time frame.

"The pilot is going to be out there in about a minute."  Doc shouts.

PT

I take a metal tool and scrape as much of the coolent off as I can.  There wasn't much, but there were patches on both arms and legs.  I couldn't check much else, given the suit's mobility.   Think, Mist.  You've glued your foot to the hull.  You have to get your foot out of your boot and your bod back on board before your suit gets more holes than a wedge of swiss cheese.  I looked out at the stars again.  I didn't want this to be the last thing I ever saw.  Then, I had an idea...

"How do you program the bag-bot?"

Jake quickly explains how to guide the bot in an excited tone of voice as you relay to him what you are doing.  Within a few tens of seconds you have your foot, hand, and arm wrapped tightly.

Through the clear material you can see a hole appear on your hand, and the air puffs out the bag just a bit.  It looks like you are going to be okay.

The Pilot comes out in just another minute, and you realize your hand is awfully cold.  In fact, you are starting to shiver.  And there are several more holes under the plastic.  Evidently the bag is not a great thermal insulator.

PT

I try to get the bag-bot to do something else, but my hands aren't working any more.  At long last, I can see the Pilot.  M-m-make a l-long b-b-baggy c-cylinder of p-p-plastic from m-m-my boot t-to my suit c-c-cuff.  P-p-pull out m-m-my f-f-foot and seal th-th-the b-bag with g-g-goo.  Hurry...  I'm f-f-f-freezing.  I start singing some old rock songs to keep awake.  I know that if I sleep, I'm doomed.

"Good plan. Hang on.  Its going to be really cold."  The Pilot says.

And then you start singing as she starts working.

"Doc, I think she's hallucinating. Saying something about a yellow submarine." The Pilot says over the datalink. Before you can reply, she snaps the leg covering loose.

Cold doesn't begin to describe it. Mind=blasting, knifing pain running up from your leg to your core, and you can see ice completely cover the inside of your space suit before things start going black.

You try to hang on, but ...


------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Misty. Misty. I need you to wake up now. We don't have a lot of time. And I know you don't feel good, but we have to get to the crash pads, and you have to stay conscious, or you'll die."

The Doc's sweet, but very concerned voice rouses you from weird dreams.  You're in the medical bay, and she is trying to get you to sit up. You feel awful.

PT

From somewhere, I hear the Doc's voice.  It is so warm now that I could just lay here, but she wants me to sit up.  I can sit up.  I have sat up a lot of times before.  I could sit up again if I wanted, too.  I just want to lay here.  It is so calm...  so peaceful...  so warm...  But I can still hear the Doc calling.  All I have to do is sit up.  I can sit up.  I will sit up...

PAIN!  Oh My GOD!  It hurts.  Oh, God, it hurts.  I want to lay down, but I can't.  I have to sit up.  I'm so cold.  I feel like I'm falling.  I'm afraid to use my arms because they might shatter like a rubber ball at the science museum.  I have to sit up.  I have to sit up.  I have to sit up...

You creakily manage to sit up, agony growing as your body becomes more aware, and with sudden sparks of pain erupting in your abdomen, and the back of your neck which get you to cry out.  You can tell Doc is doing most of the work of lifting you. You are suddenly horribly dizzy.

"Now, Misty, I know this is unfair.  But you absolutely have to walk. The wondercarts are down since the Captain cold crashed the OS to rid us of an AI aspect upload.  We have to get to the crash pads if we want to survive hitting atmosphere.  And you have to stay conscious.  If you pass out, the Captain's ordered me to leave you."

Doc starts dragging you by the arms off the med table.

PT

Pain...  Step...  Pain...  Step...  Breathe...  Pain...  Step...  Wall...  Friend...  Pain...  "Where...  gear..."  Step...  Pain...  Go...  On...  Step...  Pain...  Step...  Don't...  Stop...  Pain...  Step...
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Fri 23 Sept 2005.

"Gears all ready in place. You're doing great Misty, but if you could go a little faster that would be good."

She takes you down one hall and through a passageway to near the center of the ship.  There she places you horizontally in a cocoon.  The Doc puts a hand over a lever to the right.

"You will have to keep pumping this, once the ship goes into free fall.  Its a manual pump to get new O2 from the tank and to swirl it around.  Otherwise you could choke to death on your own exhaust.

Five hours Misty. You have to stay awake.

Oh, and welcome to the Bethany System." Then she closes the gull-wing door, and scurries off.

PT

Beth-a-knee?  Five hours?  I sang every rock and roll tune I could remember.  I pumped the lever with each beat, over on the odd counts and back on the even counts.  I seranaded myself with the Beatles, Culture Club, T-Rex, The Rolling Stones, and on and on.  My arm was cramping up very badly.  I just needed a minute of rest.  Just a minute...  That's all...

Your hand cramps up and you figure that just a little break would be okay.  A minute later as you swoon, you wake gasping in air which does not seem to satisfy.  A quick bit of pumping, and you're back in business.

But you can tell this is going to be a problem.  You have water in squeeze bulbs,and stimulants, and snack bars, but your body is severely beaten up, and you keep starting to drift off, and your hands keep cramping.

Outside, you see a wall of white expand into the room. At first, you can't process what it is because its so far outside your experience, but then you remember the words crash landing, and realize it looks like some sort of foam.  Perhaps what a sinkful of suds would look like to a mouse...

A very basic text format appears on your forward control screen.
It uses LED lights which is old fashioned tech for you.  Compared to what this ship usually uses its like a nuclear physicist trying to rub sticks together for fire.

"This is Cpt If ok tab wht button if not blk"  You see two buttons under the "emergency narrowcast system". Black and white.

PT

I have to laugh, even though it still hurts to do so.  OK is such a relative term.  I had been eating and drinking a little to try to get some of my strength back.  I didn't take any of the stimulants, figuring thay I might need them more later.

I took stock of myself.  I was awake and no more injured than when I got into this crash thingie.  I pressed the white button.

"Gd al ok shp trim ready impact atmos" pause "Mty AI atck etr B Sys 2 mos aft eva"

That takes about ten minutes for the message to arrive. Meanwhile, you've discovered you can rest your arm for about fifteen seconds without feeling any effect from the carbon dioxide pooling around your head.

And you're in Zero G.

PT

AltInt attack entering Bethany system two months after EVA?  I was out for two months?  I must have really been injured getting back.  As I pumped air, I couldn't help but think of how useless I was as a security type, laying flat on my back in sickbay when the AI's attacked.  Now, the ship was crashing and we were losing our ride home.  Zero-G inside a ship might have been fun, if I could have moved around to enjoy it.

Hours slip by, and you are forced to dip into the stimulants to keep going.  And then a message appears.

"Ti dwn atmos impct ten min."  This is followed by a blinking red light and a buzzer.  You tab the light, and it stops assaulting your senses, and in a weird dream-like state you tie yourself down.

Eight minutes later, you hear thunder.

And then the ship starts shuddering.  You're getting banged around.  The noise gets louder so that it seems to scream.

You're in gravity now.

The noise is still louder so that you can't hear yourself yelling.

"One min impct surface"  The message board announces shaking so hard you can hardly read it.

PT

The door to the room opens.  In comes a tall handsome man wearing a dapper black tuxedo and a swirling black cape.  He doesn't seem to notice the shaking room.  From out of nowhere, he pulls up a chair.  "Mind if I sit down?"  Without waiting for a reply, he sits down.  "It's time for you to be going."

I can barely move and this guy wants me to get up and leave.  "I'm on a spaceship.  We're crashing onto a planet.  I can't go anywhere."

"Of course you can."  He reaches forward and touches my right hand.  Suddenly we're dancing.  The orchestra is playing 'The Blue Danube Waltz'.  We are flowing across the the floor, his black tuxedo accenting my electric blue evening gown.

"But, I can't be here." I protest weakly.  "This isn't real."

He smiles, drawing me into his deep blue eyes as we move as one to the music.  "What is real?  What is not real?  Who is to decide?  You can go anywhere you desire.  You are one of the chosen few."

"Chosen for what?" I ask.

The song ends.  He recedes backwards through the door, without having moved a muscle.

"Chosen for what?" I scream.  "Chosen for what?"

*  *  *  *  *  *

"One min impct surface"  The message board announces shaking so hard I can hardly read it.

The pleasant dream fades leaving you wondering what it meant, and facing you with the hurtling, shuddering, bone-jarring, teeth-chattering reality.  You fit a spare cord between your teeth to keep them from slamming into each other, and then the world seems to explode.

For a long pause, you just stare at the front of your crash pad.  Every time you start to think, you collapse back into staring.  An indeterminate amount of time later, you notice the "suds" are subsiding.  And your "Exit" latch on the gullwing door is blinking green.

I release the latch and swing the gullwing door upward.  I convince my self to crawl out of my crash couch by reminding myself that I was in a crashed starship and getting away from here with as much stuff as I could manage might be a really good idea.  I check around the area for any equipment lockers which might hold emergency gear or hopefully, my stuff.

Your most immediate stuff is in your crash pad.  You open the door, and an incredible reek of urine comes from the subsiding foam.

Gagging, you get yourself kitted out, and then start looking for other equipment.  You find a M1402 Self-Inflating Eight Person Temporary Shelter, and a T797 Powered Vibro Saw (Rock, Hard Organics Rated).

And then you hear the Doc's voice.

"All right Misty, let me check you out. You're evidently alive and thinking.  So that's good.  Pilot's got a nice greenstick fracture of her right femur bone."

She checks you out, and recommends that you take it easy for a week.  You're still high on the stimulants, or you'd be feeling the abuse your body has suffered.

The others are getting sorted out as well.

PT

Take it easy?  Didn't the ship just crash?  Don't we have to get out of here as soon as we can?  I tried not to let panic creep into my voice, but I don't think I made it.  I mean, I knew how badly aircraft from my time faired when crashing and we just fell a lot farther than any aircraft from the year 2005.  Even the spacecraft from my time didn't crash land well when suffering minor damage to heat tiles or wing coverings.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Sat 01 Oct 2005.

"I don't think the Connetticut Yankee is ever going to fly again, but we flushed all explosives into space into an orbit that will have them impacting with the local sun within a couple years.

 I suspect that we have some local fires, but that those are in isolated and closed off areas of the ship, and most should burn out as the impact foam is a formidable anti-flame substance as well.  Although it stinks horribly.  And the hull was kept just this side of igniting since we're still alive.

First thing. Make sure everyone is okay. Second. Survey the ship, but keep a clear line to evac."  The Captain talks running his hand through his hair trying to think.

"No, Misty is right, Captain. After minimal body checks are made, evac is the recommended procedure, followed by further medical checks, then and splitting the team into making a base camp, and sending a scouting party to survey the damage."  The Navtech shrugs.  " I studied a little bit on the Mary Johnson disaster.  Was going to write a screenplay on it."

"Lets hope this doesn't end like that crashlanding."  The Engineer says patting his belly.

After making sure everyone is minimally fit, they hook a rope to each person's waist.  This lifts the person up to the roof, and to a hatch.

"Misty. I don't know if you're up to it.  But I remember enough procedure that you're supposed to take point."  He waves at teh hatch and your weapons while the Engineer makes ready to open the hatch.

"Captain, she's not fit."  The Doctor protests.

"She won't be fit in two hours when the stims crash, but she can function now."  He replies his face cold.

PT

Captain, I'll do my job.  I snagged an extra bandolier of laser rifle power packs for my weapon.  I also make sure to snag a refilling canteen.  I'm not sure how they do it, but from what I read, they condense water from the atmosphere into a container using a solar cell to power the unit.  The future does have some nice toys.  Too bad we broke the toy store.

At the hatch, I checked my equipment and my resolve.  Both appeared to be working, for now.  Let's do this.

With face grim, the Engineer opens the hatch.

You stick your head out.  Hot metal smells overwhelm the anti-impact foam's stench, and mists swirl off the top of the ship.  Looking up, you see clear blue sky, and two moons, both smaller than Luna.

Cautiously you spit on the metal.  It doesn't sizzle, so you figure its not burning hot.  A fingertip touch assures you its safe if very warm.  Somehow the heat is trapped inside the matrix of the hull metal to be slowly dissipated.

You climb out onto the hull, and a breeze blows the steam past you so you get a glimpse of brown, tight to the ground grass and rolling hills beyond the cliff of the edge of the Yankee.  You're at least ten stories in the air.

PT

I call back down the hatchway.  I'm about ten stories up.  What do you have in there to make a descent down the hull?  I really didn't think jumping was a good idea.  While I was up there, I looked around to see more of terrain we were in and to see if any of our new neighbors had decided to bring out the unwelcome wagon.

I noticed the smell of the air.  It was... different.  It was a lot better than the recycled stuff in the Yankee.  It didn't have the unburnt hydrocarbon aroma of city air.  It smelled clean, as if the planet had had a chance to clean things up between bouts of people messing it up.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:57, Tue 04 Oct 2005.

There is some arguement below.  One side wants to use a rappelling line, and the other wants to use an emergency lift.  Problem with the lift is its one use because it disintegrates after one hour.  Problem with shaken up people rappelling down a ten story cliff...

The steam clears more, and indeed the air smells odd, more "brown" if that makes sense.  You see the horizon, and its somehow off.  The hills rolling out in front of you seem wrong, and the river is not flowing at the angle you expect.  Gravity does not feel right...

For a second, you feel like screaming at the unreality.  And then with an almost felt "pop" in the middle of your brain your subconscious accepts that this is not Earth, but its still real. Trembling you turn back to the group.

"Landfall Shock." The Doc says.  She looks you over.  "You're good to go."

You turn back to the horizon, and see two hills distant, a swordsman, on a "horse?" ride over a hill.  He looks your way, and leans forward.  Even at the distance of several miles you can see his body language, the predatory lean forward, and the possessive measurement with his eyes of a new treasure.

"Hmm. Looks nice. I think I'll take it."

PT

I shook my head a bit to clear out the cobwebs.  Landfall Shock?  Why not.  Everything since I've been here has been a shock of one type or another.  If this ship isn't going anywhere any more, why not just cut a hole in the hull a couple dozen feet above the ground level?  It would be defendable and a lot easier to get in and out.  Also, we have a rider approaching.  Looks like he wants to claim the Yankee as salvage.

I have dealt with macho types all of my life.  It looks as if macho savage is this planet's version.  Oh well, I guess it was time to meet the neighbors.  Do we have a megaphone or some type of loud hailer available?

You and the rest follow the Engineer through stinking corridors with sudsy foam disintegrating smoothly to the metal shop, and out again after he picks up a fusion torch, and a MacroBattery.

On the way out, you pass through the cryo chamber where the true experts still lie frozen.  Its got an independent power supply enough to keep them on ice for another hundred years.  But not enough to revive them.

The Engineer throws the locks on the doors of the cryo chamber.

"If we want to keep them cool for decades, we're going to have to go the long way around, and keep the refridgerator door locked shut.  Every second the door is open takes off an hour of expected freezing time."

You get to the outer hull again. George Moraven opens up with the torch.  From twenty feet away, you can feel the heat baking your skin.  It must be nearly unbearable up close.

Five minutes later, the six inch thick hull is cut.  A rap with a fist, and a five by three foot square plonks out.

You stick your head out.  A man on a seven hundred pound wolf is pointing a short bow with arrow at you.  He looks at you with the kind of measuring interest.  In his barbaric splendour, he's a fairly good looking man with nice cheekbones, and well-cut muscles.

PT

PT

Not making any sudden moves which might be construed as a hostile act, I smile at the man on the massive wolf.  Hello.  I am called Misty.  How are you called?  If these guys had the "barefoot and pregnant" opinion of women, they were going to be in for a rude awakening.

He gives you a look of evaluation, and not for your brains or character either.
What he finds seems to please him.  He lowers his weapon.

"I am Master Scout and Warrior Ban-Sidar.  This metal thing has fallen on our lands.  It is ours.  The People of the Ban.  You are of the Ban now as well.  Tell me, your master, how much he sell you for?  You see, my mother she wants to have little children running around her.  She bothers me.  You would have an honored place at the Women's Table for I am strong in the Ban."

He flexes his muscles, displaying them to good advantage.  You hear some choking noises behind you which takes about two seconds to decipher as laughter.

PT

I've read a lot of "First Contact" science fiction.  I don't recall where shooting the individual in the head is the chosen option.  Too bad.  With one of my free hands, I show my shipmates my vertically extended middle finger.  I hope 'flipping the bird' has made it from my time to theirs.

My full title is CeeCeeEl Misty Reynolds.  I am a warrior of my people.  This metal thing as you call it is our home.  Is it the custom of your people to invade the home of another? Your people did not create this metal thing.    Are your people in the habit of stealing those things which do not belong to them?   As to this Master thing...  I have no Master.  That is not the way of our people.  We pledge our loyality to our leader, but we are not objects to be traded at the market.

OK, so he's not all that hard to look at.  And...  I'll admit that I've read my share of 'bodice-rippers'.  Still, I could put the historical romance novel down anytime I wanted and resume my life.  Here, it would be a 24/7 deal or however many hours and days in a week they used here.  I also doubted his seduction technique was much more than pointing to his crotch and nodding.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:07, Thu 06 Oct 2005.

"It is the custom of the Ban to take what we want. We are strong. If you are not strong, then you serve us.  It is the way of nature. I have killed many of the men who dress as women and hide behind stone walls. I can kill your warriors too.  They will not protect you woman with all her teeth."

He pauses to point at the ship.

"Your people did not create it either.  It is obviously demon magic. Do not lie to me in parley or surely the spirits of the grass will spring up at you, and drink your blood."

He pauses a frown of deep thought on his face.
"You claim to be a warrior." Then a look of enlightenment flashes across his face.  "Oh-hoo-haa-haa."  His laugh carrolls out loudly.  "Very funny.  I like you very much.  Most women are boring. Not worth talking too.  You're funny."

PT

This goon is as stupid as he is pretty.  Let's see if I can dissuade him with force, since logic does not appear to be one of his strong points.

It is the custom of my people to defend what is theirs.  Since you want to take what is ours, it is my job to try to stop you.  My people prefer to not kill if there is another way to solve a problem.  Would you like to play a warrior's game?  If you are afraid of losing to a woman, I'll understand if you don't want to play.

I want this guy to get the idea that attacking us would be a really bad idea.  I'm not backing down and I doubt he will either, so I either have to kill him or convince him that I am stronger.

Here are the rules.  Ride out say... three times the distance your bow can strike.  Prop your shield up on the ground, facing me, then stand on the ground near it.  I will stand on the ground and place something about the same size next to me.  We will each fire once at the other's object.  If we miss, we will each take a step toward the other, moving our objects with us.  The first one who hits the other's object wins.  It is a simple game enjoyed by our warriors.  Do you understand the rules?

He thinks about it, and he is clearly uneasy about it, but as you say logic is not his strong suit.

So he rides out about 180 yards.  He shoots an a bird point tipped arrow instead of the nasty and heavy war arrow he had pointed at you.  It falls short by about forty yards and its ten yards to the left.  He clearly lofted it for maximum distance, and no hope of accuracy.

You study the shot even in the low brown scrub about knee high, its quite a distance.  You prop your rifle up on the target backpack, and adjust the scope, ignoring the taunts he is yelling at you.

You're not sure you can hit on the first shot, but you really want to.  So you breathe out, and feather stroke the trigger button.

You hit the top-right quadrant within an inch of the edge, and spin his shield to the ground.

He comes back.  His face is dark and rigid.  His wolf is growling.

PT

I wait until he gets fairly close, but not close enough for wolfie to get me with a paw or a bite, to hold up my hand for him to stop.  Master Scout, we mean you no harm.  It could just as easily have been you and not the shield under other circumstances.  This is our home.  We are not leaving our home.  We will defend our home just as you would defend yours.  And, just in case you didn't get it the first time, I am a warrior.  I require no one's protection.

I make sure that my blaster hand is free.  If necessary, I plan on using the blaster on wolfie first.  I don't know how much the blaster will hurt the wolf, but it has to be better than the laser at short range.

"You have powerful demon magic, I hope your spirit-talker is strong, or that you are a mighty witch, or it will eat your soul."  He mounts the saddle on his wolf.  "You have shown me your power, warrior-witch, now let me show you a game of my people.  We shoot, we ride, we fight, but we also hunt."

He pulls out a thin stick and waves it at you.

"Catch me if you can before I catch you. You may begin when the wolf comes back to you."

Then he races out about five hundred yards to a patch of waist high brown scrub that covers several acres.  He drops to the side of the wolf acting as if he is picking up things.  The wolf circles several times, and suddenly you realize its coming back, and sometime in the last minute or two Ban-Sidar let go of his wolf.

It comes back, and lays down twenty feet from you, and begins licking its paws. Sword and bow are still on its saddle.

Suddenly the phrase 'the spirits of the grass will drink your blood' becomes a little more real because if you can't defeat stalkers, then you won't be able to leave the ship.

PT

I hand my laser rifle and the bandolier of charges back into the ship.  Got any trans-band visor's handy?  He wants to play hide and seek.  I need to eliminate the home court advantage in this game.  I know that I haven't got all day before my stims crash me out.

The Engineer grunts and pulls a trans-band visor out of his backpack.  He tosses it to you, and gives you a quick tutorial on its use. Its simple, at least, at the basic levels of use which is all you need here.   He warns you not to look at the ship as its still radiating enough heat to be not blinding, but too bright in the infrared to be comfy.

"Whats this about demon magic? We knew the more civilized areas had an inquisition against tech, but we didn't realize that extended to the barbarian tribes as well." The Captain looks worried, trying to calculate the angles.

You climb on down, and go for a short walk, and within five minutes have a warm spot picked out.  You're about fifty yards from him.  He's laying down, and apparently covered by something that cools him in spots since the thermal picture is not a solid piece.

PT

I walk generally toward the warm spot, keeping an eye on that area to make sure he doesn't move without my seeing him.  I also check the other areas around me as well.  I'd really hate being some local beastie's lunch while playing hide and go seek with Ban-whatever.  As I walk, I slip my snapstick into my hand.  He can play with his stick, I'll play the game using a weapon.

You've gotten within ten feet of him, and you can see from the slight twitches of his legs and arms that he is aware of you, and probably readying for a spring.  You can see where he lies with your regular vision, covered with wet "moss" which covers the ground like a carpet except for the brown waist-high "puny bushes", but you probably would not have found him without your tech.

PT

I take another step toward him, then trip my snapstick to its full eight foot length as I point it at him.  Tag, you're it.  The tip of the stick should be close enough to touch him and let him know that I know exactly where he is.  Just in case he gets any more ideas, I'm ready to take his charge/leap attack and roll backwards using my legs to throw him well past me.

He springs to his feet in an impressive display of athleticism and strength, and sees the stick.  A struggle on his face lasts for several seconds as he tries to absorb the fact that he lost, and then to master himself.

He gives you a narrow eyed glare, and then nods his head.

"You win today."  He then whistles.  The wolf comes charging, and he leaps on it without the wolf fully stopping.  He wheels it back around, and you watch with some trepidation as the two bear down on you.  They halt fifteen feet distant.

"If you have a message for my people you may give it to me.  I will go now, and tell the elders of my tribe what I have seen."

PT

I look carefully at the big guy on the wolf.  I don't think he has ever lost much in his life.  This guy didn't get to be a Master Scout by default.  Maybe, someday, we can work together, maybe even as allies, but probably not as friends.  I don't think his clan or tribe or whatever allows me to be an equal.  That is probably even more true since he thinks I'm a warrior-witch.  At least he backed off for a bit.

I retract my snapstick and place it back in its thigh holster.  I set the control of my communicator to transmit so anyone on board can monitor what I'm going to say.  I also flip the controls on the goggles to neutral to be able to see normally.  You are a warrior of your people.  I am a warrior of mine.  It is my purpose to defend my home just as it is your purpose to defend the home of people of the Ban.  If you will follow me back to our home, I'm sure that the Captain has a message for your people.

Well, I hoped he did.  I'm just not a good diplomat.  I tend to dig my heels in sometimes and not want to give an inch.  My Mother called it "muleishness".  I like to think of it as being determined.  Whatever it is, it had gotten me this far.

The Captain is sitting on a self-sticking mylar tarp covered expandi-chair with George Moraven behind him looking grimly foreboding while holding a bokken.

"You have seen the skills and powers of one of our mid-rank warriors.  I trust you realize now that whether you come dressed for war, and strike from secret, the warriors of the Yankee Tribe whose dominion extends to the stars, will not tolerate disrespect."

Your eyes widen a bit at the "Oriental despot" role the Captain has chosen.  He looks at you to see if you want to add anything.

"However, we do value friends, and courage, and we would be happy to help make both our people's wealthy in trade.  So send this message to your honored elders, Ban-Sidar.  The Mighty Peoples of the Yankee bid the Great Tribe of the Ban greeting, and if you were to send some small number of your people sufficient to trade with, we would greet them with gladness and a feast.  But if you come to make war, then you shall meet her, and dozens like her who will slay you without mercy."

Then George gives him a small knife, which doesn't impress, and a bolt of yellow cloth from one of the Navtech's hobbies which Ban-Sidar likes very much.  Then George shows how the knife can cut a shaving of Ban-Sidar's sword.  At that point, Ban-Sidar turns distinctly pale.

PT

I flipped my transmitter back to standby.  I guess they got my message.  Once the Captain finished with his very good 'Emperor of the Sky Tribe' speech, I chirped in.   Perhaps in a few days, once your people have had time to consider our offer, I might gain permission to visit your people in the spirit of friendship and understanding.  I smiled.  Given the situation, I guess I was our tribe's Master Scout and it would soon be time for an extended recon.

Once Ban-Sidar left, I planned taking a long rest in the ship to recover from the stims.  I planned on getting a bite to keep my strength up.  I planned on checking the sights on my laser to see why I almost missed the shield.  All of a sudden I got really tired.  Captain, I don't think I've got two hours.  I'm...

You feel as if your strings have been cut, and the world tips sideways...

Later, you wake on a rubber mattress.  You are incredibly tired, but your throat hurts so you moan out something.

The Pilot hobbles over to you inside the yellow plastic and air-filled tent you had brought out.

"Drink up.  Stims make the mouth go dry. Lucky us, both on sick patrol. Once you drink up, doc wants you to go back to sleep."

You fill up on water, and relieved drift off.

Much later, filled with vague memories of multiple wakings and various faces, you wake to feel basically sound, but weak, and ravenous.  The tent is empty.

PT

I gear up, moving a lot slower than I usually do, then leave the inflatable shelter to get something to eat.  I really could have used a couple of granola bars.  I rationed them out as long as I could, but I had eaten the last one before my attempt at exterior starship repair.  Mist, I thought to myself jokingly, maybe you will find chocolate chip granola bars in your next serial reincarnation.  Yeah, right...  I still have no idea how I got here.  What are the chances I'll get blipped somewhere else?

I put those thoughts aside.  Other than being weak and starved, I felt as good as I did before my accident in space.  I made a mental note to see if almost getting frozen to death while trying to fix a starship was a part of being a Spacer.  It probably wasn't, but it would give me a reason to talk to the Captain about what he wanted me to do next...  right after breakfast or dinner or whatever.

You walk outside,and are startled to see dozens of yellow inflated tents.  Picking your way through them toward the voices, you come up on the Captain talking to the Pilot.  The Captain nods to you, and then quickly walks away.

This seems odd.

The Pilot offers with a bright smile to get you breakfast, even though its in the afternoon.

"Easier on the stomach.  The Doc thought you'd wake up today.  You've been out for a week." She leads you to the messhall, and sits you down, and gets you a plate of eggs, double-cooked green bean paste, and a small serving of mild sausage along with some milk.  "Sorry, no coffee today or tommorrow. Doc's orders." She sits down with you, and drinks something.

"We've met representatives of three tribes.  The Yaykul, and the Randic, and of course, your fiance' from the Ban.  It seems your persuasion techniques got around because the other two were more reasonable.  Although we had to tell, Ban-sidar that your working of magic had taken the vital energy out of you. Too bad you couldn't have collapsed ten minutes later."

PT

I almost choked on a forkfull of bean paste as I heard the "F word".  There was no way I was going to... I didn't even want to think about it.  After a few bites, I forced myself to slow down.  Maybe that isn't a bad thing.  If Ban-Sidar thinks I run out of juice easily, that could work to my advantage.  I took a few more bites before continuing.  What happened after I umm... glued my boot to the exterior hull?

"Just a joke, Misty, just a joke.  Besides someone else is interested."  She smiles a bit sadly.  "What happened is that you nearly froze to death, and we had to pop you into a temporary slow cryo, not a full freeze, while we fixed you back up.  And then before the job got totally done, an AI in the system attacked us.

It was a software attack which makes sense because the AI is still here, and not fled.  So it must be trapped here without a manufacturing base.  Captain had to crash the systems otherwise we would have smashed into the sun hard enough to nova the system."

PT

I ate every crumb on my plate and drained my glass of milk.  I thought about licking the plate to make sure nothing was overlooked, but I wasn't quite that hungry.  At least, not any more.  Someone else is interested?  Is this another joke?  My dating pool was somewhat limited at the moment.  The only people I knew were Yankee personnel and the Ban's Master Scout.

The concept of an AI on planet chilled me deeper than almost freezing to death outside of the ship.  I guess that is why they paid me the big bucks.  Or at least they would have if the ship would have been able to lift again.  So, if it is a software Alt-Int, it can't do anything as long as the computers are off?  Right?

The pilot gets you some doughnuts for dessert after surveying your scraped clean plate.

"No, not a joke. He's been an old friend of mine.  Served two missions with him, and so he talked about it with me.  He felt it was not his place when he was in command to date someone of lower rank.  However, he intended to broach the matter once he got planetside, and we woke up the more experienced crew who would take over.  After all, we're just supposed to be the people minding the store while the smart guys sleep.

But without serious power levels that a solar gain panel, or even a MicroBattery won't handle, we can't safely unthaw them.  So he's stuck in command.

And to make matters worse, he almost got you killed twice.

As to the Art-Int, yeah, that what's George says.  I can't see how an orbital AI without a factory can mess with us down here as long as we run without automation.  Not that we have much of that now."

PT

This was going all too fast for me.  I took some bites of donut as I tried to digest what I was hearing.  ...when he was in command...  ...he almost got you killed twice...  You're telling me that the Captain is interested in me?  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.  Did he mention why?

I regretted saying that as soon as it left my mouth.  I sounded like I was in Junior High talking about a first crush.  Maybe I could blame it on the stims, maybe not.

I really needed to change the subject and go back to pretending that I knew what I was doing.  My love life aside, how are we doing with the three tribes?

"He's cute, isn't he?" The Pilot says with a laugh.  "I don't think he really knows. He's empathic, perhaps even a low-grade Talent with others, but he doesn't know himself that well.  He's always so focused on doing what he thinks his role requires of him."  She shrugs.

"Tribes. Well, we've gotten a little trade going with the Ban and the Yaykul.  They want knives, pretty things to distract them from the visual dullness, and they seem to remember enough to want Magic Pills aka vitamins since on this planet its hard to get all the nutrients you need.  We want information for now.  We disguise that by buying live animals and plant specimens from as far away as possible, and making them tell us of the trip which they enjoy doing.  We are within three horseday rides of the Men With the Stone Walls which is where we had wanted to land."

PT

Things were going along relatively well without me.  I didn't think that was a bad thing.  At least no one was trying very hard to kill us yet.  We needed some type of power system for the ship.  I, for one, would feel a lot better if we had some more people awake.  Building a power system would require parts.  I had a pretty good idea of who would have to scrounge the parts.

Thank you for everything.  I think I need to walk around a bit to get some blood pumping to my muscles.  Have you seen George?  I think he might have a shopping list of things he wants me to find while on my journeys.  I washed up my dishes and put them back in the rack, then set off to find the Engineer.

I was still getting used to the idea that we were stuck on this planet.  For that matter, I was still getting used to the idea that I was even on another planet.  As I walked, I looked around, taking in the alien plant life, the fallen ship, the strange animals, and everything else around me.

The food and conversation did me a world of good.  I'd need a few days to get back some lost muscle tone, but I felt ready to take on an entire planet.

You eventually find George.  He's in the middle of tying down a black sheet which has wires attached to it.  He's deeply frowning, but he brightens when he sees you.

"I'm glad you're up. We need the help. And I'm glad you're okay too, didn't mean it that way.  Its just, well, I'm trying to come up with some primitive power systems.  So far we have muscle power--which I hate the thought of being adverse to hard work, emergency chemical power like what inflated the tents--strictly one use, the solar panels small like our water from the atmosphere trick and like this sheet which can probably produce one kilowatt at any given time--as long as its day and not cloudy, and we have seven MicroBatteries left for high energy applications, plus we have a few small batteries like your blaster energy clips, and we have a quantum trickle unit for the cryo, and then there's the antimatter units in the ship but thats out of fuel because I blew them clean in space not wanting to nuke this hemisphere if we messed up the landing.

Basically, we have some little, less medium, and no way to get up to the high.  I'm hoping that with your low tech background you might have some clues."

PT

I wasn't sure if I should be insulted by the 'low tech background' comment or not so I chalked it up to stress and let it slide.  I could feel the wind blowing on my face.  I'm not an engineer, but it always was my dream to move somewhere and live off-the-grid, so I did a bit of research into natural energy sources.

George, why don't we use the sources all around us.  I admit that your little blanket won't kick up much juice from the sun by itself, so we need to get the materials to build bigger and better ones.  It's a bootstrapping procedure.  The more photovoltaic (PV) panels we have, the more we will be able to create.  We can set them up on the upper hull of the ship to keep them out of harms way.

When we locate a stream, we could set up a small water turbine to create electricity.  The process is called microhydro power.  I think the power formula is something like...  Hmmm...  I remember now... Total Vertical Drop times Flow in Gallons per Minute, then divided by ten to get the estimated power in watts. 

Then, there's always wind turbines.  Put a weatherproofed generator on a metal tower and let the wind push the windmill blades to turn the rotor to create power.  One might not do much, but several of them would help a great deal.  We store all this power in deep cycle storage batteries or whatever you use and do the wakey-wakey bit for our sleepers one at a time.  They're not going to be anywhere close to an anti-matter unit's power level, but it will beat a poke in the head with a sharp stick.

If I kept this up, my official designation might change from Combat Consultant to Engineering Assistant.  I'm not sure I would like that.

George walks back and forth abruptly, thinking hard.  He punches the air, and argues violently with himself, one hand see-sawing up and down vs. the other hand.  Then he turns and stares at you after tabbing his neck where you see a wire.

"Doc, can you come over by the southside?"

"OK, Misty, it sounds like some good ideas.  Problem is, we're not totally set up for this. I mean, we don't have microhydro turbines in storage. We have fabs, fabricators, which can make pretty much anything from a microhydro to some primitive terraflop computer chip to parts for the anti-hydrogen drive. Unfortunately, fabs require a lot, and I mean a lot of power.  Plus, they require computer control.  And the Captain flushed all our computers dry to get rid of the virus attack which he had to do because an AI virus once its inside, you can't beat it. Any standalone system is okay, but we had few of those.  The central computer net is a paperweight.  It doesn't even have an OS. Now I do have hard storage backups, but I'm not a systems analyst.

We depended on having antimatter energy, and a functioning computer net.

Now I like your ideas, and perhaps we can scavenge stuff off the ship to make them.  And you're definitely right. The blankets should go on the roof of the ship.

The only battery supplies we have our small point sources like your blaster clips, and MicroBatteries.  Neither are well-suited to connecting to a photovoltaic blanket."

The Doc comes over and converses.

"OK. The cryos require a good bit of robotics, and computer aids to get back up safely, and the power requirements for that are not huge, but not a small thing either. The system is not designed to efficiently unfreeze one at a time.  Its a minimum twenty people at a time system, and it starts working right when you do forty.  Max at one time is a hundred, unless I have to go to full emergency procedures, and maybe kill some people."

They both look a little depressed, and hug each other.  You're a bit surprised again. The almost brutal engineer,and the empathetic doc, an item?

PT

The Doc and the Engineer..  Well, they both fix broken things.  And everyone needs someone.  I remember wierder pairings from my time like the strange looking basketball player and the actress.  Well, if we don't have the stuff here, it sounds like I need to go on a shopping trip.  I started thinking of items to pack for my trip.  Ammo...  Food...  Trade goods...  Transportation...  Did we have transportation?

Umm, George.  Do we have any ship's vehicles designed for planetary use?  You know... hovercraft, grav sleds, utility crawlers, ATV's, anything?

"Grav sleds? We can't control gravity. Wish we could. But we do have utility crawlers which have their own solar panels for recharging, and they are slow and can carry a lot.  We also have hovercraft with more limited range, but they are a lot faster, and less carry capacity."

He then takes you into the ship, and down into its belly where the walls start to get distorted by the crash.  One of three doors to the main vehicle bay is usable by dint of a powerclamp ripping the door out.  Inside, its a jumbled mass.  After a bit of work, and inventory, George turns to you.

"We had ten of each, but after the crash, its four UC, and two hovercraft that are in usable condition.  Maybe I can fix some of the others, but I'm not sure thats a high priority."  George says.

You load up, and get ready for your trip.  Driving the chosen craft out of the ship is the worst part of it.

PT

I liked the idea of taking out a crawler.  I've never flown anything except a kite, and that was a long time ago.  George, at least you can salvage the power systems from the broken crawlers for rechargable power systems.  I packed some tools, milrats, trade goods, and my all personal gear and stuff into the vehicle.  I included my old time time surveillance gear because I planned on documenting my travels.

As a part of my preparations, I copied what we had gotten in the way of cartographic information into one of my notebooks.  It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.  I was looking at my crude sketches when I had what could turn out to be a very bad idea.  I didn't know the territory, but I knew someone who did.  I could also use someone who was strong to help move stuff.  Now, if I could get him to agree with it...

I left my crawler charging in the sun as walked around looking to see if the Ban Master Scout was in camp.

You look about, and find he's not on the premises, inside the wall of inflatable tents that serves as the outer wall.  At the front "gate", Jake smiles at you as he rewires a part according to a diagram.

"He was here yesterday, probably be here tommorrow or the day after that. Sure wish I could go with you, downsizing these power links which were designed for terrawatts--to kilowatts is a pain in the fingers."

PT

Truth be told, I needed another day to get organized.  My body used the time to get a little stronger.  I checked out the vehicle's emergency kit and added a couple of things to it.  I also added some water cans and a purification filtering pump.

I tracked George down during dinner.  Even after my large lunch, I was hungry again by dinnertime.  Is there any specific type of tech, other than power and information systems, which we need most?  I might not recognize it, but at least I could look for it.

I spent the rest of the day getting the feel of the crawler controls by doing some short recons (OK, test drives) around the camp exterior.  It drove like a running turtle, but it beat trying to carry out the stuff by backpack.  I parked back inside the camp, but I slept in the crawler anyway.  I thought I'd see how it worked out.

He thought for a while, and then raised a finger.

"Fuel such as hydrocarbons either in liquid or solid state, medical, and reliable people would also be nice. I'm beginning to think we have more jobs than we have people.  Right now, we're living fine, off stored supplies, but in a year or so..."

You wake in teh middle of the night to see the window of your crawler covered with bats.

PT

Uggghhh, I guess I'm sleeping in the in the vehicle.  I rolled over and eventually went back to sleep.

About noon, the next day, the Ban-Sidar rides in.  He has a strange bird for sale, and a tale of the lands he travelled to reach it.

You tell him your plan, and suddenly he grins.  Its not hard to figure out the thought behind the grin.  You were wanting an excuse to get alone with him, away from your chaperones.

He's happy to go along with your 'ruse'.

PT

Look, Master Scout, before we leave, there is one thing which you need to understand.  My job is to scout the area and seek out certain things to bring back for my Captain.  I could go without you, but I stand a better chance of getting back with your help.  I am asking for your help, one warrior to another.  I was getting the impression unless I stopped this romantic obsession right now, I'd eventually have to do some major explaining as to why I have his blaster-burned corpse wrapped up in a tarp in the back of the crawler.

There was one other thing which bothered me about taking him along.  The only way to find out was to ask.  When we met, you called me a warrior witch, or something like that.  How do your people feel about things like this vehicle and my gear?  More importantly, how do you feel about working with a warrior witch and about the things she has?

He looks at you, first disapointed, and then affronted, and then with cold calculation in his eyes.  Its easy to follow his thoughts.

*If I can't have her as a girlfriend, is it worth my bother to help her?* He looks up at the spaceship.  And then he nods with a smile to you.

"Understood."

"Such things as your weapons are the work of demons.  If one is strong-souled, and clever, and protected by powerful magics, such as the magics of the mightiest of the Ban spirit-talkers then one may profit from them, but few are such.  Many who go to demons die screaming, or walk with no voice, but with screams in their head.  For the demon ate their soul.

I am Ban-Sidar, Master Scout, I fear nothing."

PT

I had to smile.  He was cute in sort of an Ah-nald as Conan way.  The Master Scout just might work out as a travelling companion.  Now, if I could only introduce Ban-Sidar to Ban Roll-On.

You mentioned people who live behind stone walls.  I would like to meet them.  That can be our first destination.  I would like to know why have you killed many of them?  Since they were able to send a signal to Earth, they must have had some type of working tech.  Thay would have a good place to start searching.

This trip might take several weeks.  Do you plan on hunting during the journey?  Do you trade for supplies along the way?  Since I am a stranger in the land of the Ban, I would like to learn the ways of your people in order to explain them to my Captain.  Perhaps, you might even want to learn of the customs of my people.  I had food for myself, but if we could live off the land, that would be even better.  I could also share my knowledge of which animals were considered food sources upon my return.

As I was walking to mount my vehicle, I realized that I had neglected to learn one very minor piece of information.  Do you want to ride your mount for the journey or would you like to ride with me?

"The Men-Women, we go to meet them. Nearest is a seven-day away by wolf.  They have things, they are weak, we take them. Besides they offend us.  They worship a strange god, not the spirits of the grass, and they preach that dealing with demons is evil, but that is because they are cowards."

He spits on the grass.

"I will hunt. You can cook."

He pauses and wrinkles his brow.

"The ways of the Ban. That is hard. We do things to live in the brown grass.  We move, every month, pick up camp, and move.  We fight to steal wolves, adn to allow our young men to earn honor, and to gain the bride-price.  And if we can steal a woman that is good, but they are usually heavily guarded.  A great man has many wives.  The lowliest of the elders on our council has three, the greatest, he has nine."

You get a picture as he talks of a nomadic warrior culture that honors bravery, and hospitality, and cleverness.  Their perfect hero seems to be a combination of Loki and Thor.  And they are quite fatalistic.

And they have an excess of young men, a side-effect of the harems, so they have to get them killed off in battle.

They don't seem to feel the other tribes have a right to anything.  To them, there is Ban and there is sub-human.  Although by a great display of one of the primary virtues you can temporarily earn status as a Ban. He's not sure if you are Ban or not.  But they set great store by their word of honor, although they also can be lawyer-clever with loopholes.

PT

Ban-Sidar, my people have things, both big and small.  We had never heard of the Spirits of the Grass until we got here.  Does that make my people evil or just different?  I've delt with the us-or-then mentality before with the street gangs of my own time.  It might be a little different here, but I doubted it.  Some of my people believe in a spirit called Gaia, the Earth Mother.  Some of us don't.  Our Leaders allow each of us to choose the Spirits we wish to worship.


It looks like this 'me Tarzan, you Jane" mindset just wouldn't go away.  That was all right.  I had time.  I wasn't going anywhere.  Not at least until we were able to get a signal back home for a rescue ship to get the rescuers.  About this hunting and cooking thing, the women of my people do not all know how to cook just as not all of the men know how to hunt.  For example, I've never gone hunting or cooked anything outside.  I'm willing to share the camp duties with you.  We can work together, two warriors on a mission.  Maybe if I kept stressing the different, but equal concept, it might eventually get from his ears to his brain.

Are you riding with me or on your mount?  We're burning daylight here.  Make up your mind.

He thinks about your question.

"It makes you dumb. How could you not know? Even those in Lanton the Great know of the Spirits, and fear them.  So said my great-grandfather who rode all the way across the world.  But we, the Ban are wise enough to worship them, and even some of us, to mingle our blood with theirs.

Your leaders are weak then. Even the Stone Women Dukes are not so weak.  Do they not care for their people? What wrath the powers will rain down on their people?  And who is this Mother? The Spirits are men. They have to be to fight the evil that is the world.  The world is a demon, King of all Demons.  Luckily, we are usually too small for him to notice, although he stirs recently."

He's getting irritated with you which is probably nothing to what you are feeling about now.


He looks totally astonished, and then he laughs, whooping as he leaps on his wolf.

"So then we burn the meat together."  And he races off.

PT

I was glad that Ban-Sidar was taking his own transportation.  If we were cooped up together in the crawler, one of us might not make the trip all the way.  I entered my vehicle and set my laser rifle in the driver's ready rack.  Next, I engaged the crawler's motor and set off after him.  I hoped that the Master Scout wouldn't get too upset at my rate of speed.  I waved to the only other people I knew in the universe as I rolled off into the unknown.

Your crawler trudges off, doing a steady fifteen miles per hour.  Its mind-numbingly simple to drive it, and just for fun you test it by driving over some rocks which other than making a crinkly noise does nothing to impede it.

Curious, you sight a larger rock, about the height of a dishwasher with a steep slope, and you  find that although your machine whines, and struggles, it does make it up and over.

The Future makes good toys.

You crest a low hill, and see Ban-Sidar waiting two hills further on.

PT

Well, I know why it's called a crawler.  I'm glad that I'm in no hurry to get anywhere.  I made a mental note to keep the crawler on the flatest terrain possible.  Rocks seemed to require more power to traverse and I wasn't sure how much this puppy had in reserve.  I couldn't tell if Ban-Sidar is upset about my rate of travel from here, but I'd be willing to put down a C-note that he is more than mildly miffed about my progress, or the lack of it.

While I was thinking about money, I wondered if they used barter only or if some tribes traded in gems or precious metals.  What I didn't know about this place would fill volumes.  I turned on my i-Pod and called up Timbuk 3's "The Future's so Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades".  It seemed appropriate, somehow.

After a while, Ban-Sidar comes back to you, and politely inquiries if your device can go any faster.  When you shake your head no, he actually seems a little relieved.

Later that day toward nightfall, he comes in with a pair of birds, groundrunners, he explains, as he guts them.  He carefully sets aside their livers with great caution.

"Very poisonous, can be used to tip arrows, if made into a proper paste.  But even dried they are valuable."

He asks you to start the fire, and then boil water to get rid of the feathers.  Meanwhile, he begins to wander about the campsite looking at the ground for some things, you're not sure what.

"I will show you how to burn bird after you get feathers off."  He gives you a cheerfully self-deprecating smile.

PT

After a while, Ban-Sidar comes back to you, and politely inquiries if your device can go any faster.  When you shake your head no, he actually seems a little relieved.

Later that day toward nightfall, he comes in with a pair of birds, groundrunners, he explains, as he guts them.  He carefully sets aside their livers with great caution.

"Very poisonous, can be used to tip arrows, if made into a proper paste.  But even dried they are valuable."

He asks you to start the fire, and then boil water to get rid of the feathers.  Meanwhile, he begins to wander about the campsite looking at the ground for some things, you're not sure what.

"I will show you how to burn bird after you get feathers off."  He gives you a cheerfully self-deprecating smile.

PT

I think I can venture a guess as to why the Master Scout is not upset with my vehicle's slow progress.  If he believes that I have to use some personal kind of demon magic to move the vehicle, my not being able to move very quickly could be a sign that I'm not too powerful of a warrior witch for him to be able to work with.  Of course, with my vast, or maybe half-vast, experience with offworld cultures, I could be wrong.

I've never pulled the feathers from a bird before.  You take one of the birds and show me how it is done.  I'll do the other one and we can compare them afterward to see which one is better prepared.  Oh, and what do your people usually use for fuel for fires?

I had realized something when he mentioned boiling water.  In all of my preparations for this journey, I neglected to pack any cooking gear.  It is understandable of you look it from a certain view.  The military ration entrees were all self-heating and each came with its own plastic flatware.  I ummm... planned to save weight and space by not packing pots and pans.  All right, I never even thought about packing cooking gear.  There is also the minor detail that except for pizza and Cheeseburger Mac Hamburger Helper, I couldn't cook.  I did have a couple of disposable lighters, though, so I was good for a lot of lighting fires.

Ban-Sidar, do you have any cooking pots?  If you remember, I told you earlier that I didn't know how to cook.  I don't even own any cooking pots.

Your guess as to his motives does seem to fit, and it "smells" right.

He comes back to you after what you say. And a look of utter astonishment fills his face at the last comment.

"You truly are a warrior.  You think of nothing but slaying your enemies.  But, you must first survive to reach the enemy before you can close with him. So, follow me..."

He leads you about camp, picking up stones, and mosses.  Its not hard work, and it more requires a detailed eye than not.  He knocks away one of your choices with a stern frown.

"Only the ones with little blue flowers, or the ones that could be.  Red flowers are sacred, it is the blood of warriors.  We call them the Droplets."  There are tiny flowers on much of the moss.

Soon he constructs a small campfire, but it is much more than a ring of stones.

"Watch carefully. Tommorrow you try. And then I yell at you like my old teacher did. One wants to diffuse teh smoke. So that you do not draw attention to oneself."

He then produces a small metal pan from his pack, treating it as if it was treasure.

Waterbags meet burning moss meets pan, and soon you have boiling water.  The moss looks very fortuitous...it burns quickly on the outside, like tinder, and then as it gets to teh center it slows down and burns like wood.

He then hands you a bird, and starts on his as you both sit by the fire.

I watch him carefully as he works.  As much as I disliked the idea of working with "food" so fresh that was breathing earlier in the day, I understood that this was a necessary survival skill to master.  I also figured that I'd need to teach the rest of the Yankee crew what I learned out here.  He was a lot better at it than I was, but go figure, it was his planet and my first time.

I had to smile as I was picking feathers.  Was he telling me that I needed to consume food to live?  How did he think I survived this long?  Maybe it was some Demon Magic thing, who knows for sure?

I had to make a second pass at picking feathers to get mine almost as clean as Ban-Sidar's bird.  I don't have a problem not being good at something I'm just learning.  I cleaned myself up after picking the bird clean, then excused myself to look around the area a bit and do some scouting of my own.

I dug my Poloroid camera out and took pictures of the red and blue flowered mosses.  I wrote notes on the back of each picture, specifying that "the Droplets" were sacred and the blue ones were fuel.  I also made notes on the groundrunner birds in my notebook, noting that the livers were poison, but still valuable when dried.  Even out here, I'm still a detective.  It's my job to observe and report.

When I had documented my findings, I headed back.

The making of the campfire looked tricky in the arrangement of the stones to spread out the tell-tale smoke, but other than that you feel reasonably confident for a first go.

You come back to partially burnt groundrunner "tastes like chicken", and a pile of crisp but hot tuber roots is sitting on a warm stone for you to eat.  They taste vaguely acidic, like a cross between a potato and an orange.  Unfortunately there is no butter or black pepper.

"Which watch would you take? First or second? And do not sleep, for the spirits of the grass love to leave a sleeper in the final sleep."

OOC: We'll add up your new skills at the end of the trip (if its where you expected, or in another world, either would be an end.)

PT

Since I still had my camera, I took a picture of the fire pit with the stone arangement.  After the picture developed, I wrote on the back of it, "Smoke dispersing Ban fire pit".

I am also a scout for my people.  These pictures are a way of letting people see things through my eyes.  When I give them to my people, everyone will know what you, Ban-Sidar, have taught me.  Then, they can also learn from you the things you have taught me.

I took a picture of the food, writing "Typical Trail Meal of Groundrunner and..."    What are the roots called?  In the morning, can you show me one of the plants that these came from?

The food was different but good.  I ate my share willingly.  Tomorrow, we can eat one of the warrior meals of my people.  I had packed enough milrat mealpacks for both of us, but I didn't plan on telling him that.

Why keep watch?  What things are out here which would bother us?  I wasn't worried.  I planned on sleeping in the crawler.  There was the issue that even on the unlikely chance Ban-Sidar got to sleep in the crawler, his cat couldn't.

He looks both worried and happy about your pictures.  Finally he bursts out.

"You must take pictures of me with my sword in my attack forms."

You raise an eyebrow.

"You have told the demons of my existence. I must let them know that I am no one to be messed with, that I am a warrior."

========================================

The roots turn out to be called "citripo".  He shows you how to find them.  Tiny orange flowers.  This planet is starting to seem "too convenient" in some ways like the food is color coded as well as the fuel.

=============================================
"Bother us? Snakes, insects, churners, herds of aurochs, and of course, those of other tribes, and did I not mention the spirits? You would be wise to keep watch."

PT

I took few more pictures... a live groundrunner... a citripo plant...  and a very wierded out Master Scout waving his sword around.  At least he wasn't worried that the camera was stealing his soul.  With both my research accomplished and his personal demons satisfied for the moment, I asked him to explain about churners and aurochs.  If I knew what they were, I could keep an eye out for them.  Hey, if they came in herds, maybe they could be a food source like buffalo.

I volunteered for first watch.  It wasn't as if I had any better offers.

Aurochs sound like giant cows with huge horns, and a wicked temper.  He tells you a tale of one village that got stomped flat by an aurochs herd.  Sounds like they could be a food source, if someone knew how to control them.  But they break fences like they were nothing, and they sound pschyotically vicious to all non-Aurochs.  They will, on occasion, hunt wolf packs formed of such as the seven hundred pound wolf your companion is riding.  They don't eat meat, but they seem to take pleasure in killing.

But your mouth waters at the thought of all that steak...

The churner is more incredible.  Its a twenty foot long, eight inches thick worm or centipede, that moves through the soil, and occasionally comes to the surface.  It would not be too dangerous, but it likes warmth, and its got poison, and inside it are sacs of strong acid so that killing it may kill you.

You watch through the night, counting the stars, and listening to the night creatures.  And then from out of the night, you hear a sound nearby.  The wolf raises its head, and looks at you.  It seems uncertain, but alert, and waiting for the human to take the lead.

PT

I check to make sure that the laser is ready.  To get a better vantage point, I climb on top of the crawler.  The fact that there is now a large object between me and any churner which might just happen to pop up out of the ground has absolutely nothing to do with it.

There is a sound like thunder in the far distance.  It seems to be coming closer, and then it trails off.  But the wolf is still bothered, so you stay up on the roof of the crawler.

And then in the darkness you see movement. And then you realize there is a lot of movement.  Your whole field of vision is rippling like someone was flexing a black cloth across a bed in a dark room.

PT

Aurochs!  Ban-Sidar!  Get up now!  I couldn't out run them in my crawler and I wasn't going to abandon it.  My only hope was to create a baracade of suddenly dead aurochs in front of the crawler in the hopes that they would be forced to go around.  I got off of the vehicle and moved a distance between it and the herd.  I would have to give up ground as I killed them to avoid getting crushed by the rapidly moving corpses.

He jumps up, being on his feet, before his eyes are fully aware, and his sword is out, and he's flicking it about himself as his brain clicks on.  In the back of your head, you make a note to wake him up from a distance in the morning.

But even as you think this, you're running out to the aurochs, and pulling out your laser, making sure the blaster is loose in its holster.  The first of the aurochs come into the campfire light, and you see it is moving slowly, sweat dripping down its sides, shuddering breaths shaking a body whose back line is taller than your head by about six inches.

Another exhausted aurochs stumbles forward then too.

Fire?

PT

I ease back away from the exhausted aurochs slowly, not turning my back on them.  After way too long, I make it back to the crawler.  I was sweating a lot harder than you would expect after that little run and the slow walk back.  I tried really hard to not remind myself that I had just charged toward a thundering herd of mooing monsters heading toward the camp.

I don't know how long it will take for them to get rested up, but I think it would be a great idea to not be here when they do.  What do you think, Master Scout?

He nods slowly and slightly, not hardly breathing.  He allows his sword to droop so that he can slip it behind his back where the sight of it won't irritate the touchy creatures.

"I...think...we walk....away....slow...leave crawler"  He speaks slowly, hardly moving his lips.

PT

I... don't... think... so...  I'm not leaving my crawler.  My food, gear, and the Yankee's survival were all riding with me.  I slowly entered the vehicle and left the exterior lights off.  The vehicle was a lot quieter that anyone from my time would have realized.  I kept the settings at minimal power to the motors, in order to slowly back away from the auroch.

I briefly thought about snapping a picture, but decided that having my body crushed to a fine red goo wasn't how I wanted to spend the rest of the evening.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and slipped the vehicle into reverse.

You turn it on, and the aurochs start a bit at the tiny whine, and the crunch of grass.  But they don't follow you as you slip the crawler back away from them.  Driving it backwards is more difficult, but not that challenging.

You've backed out of the campfire light, and are just starting to relax as the aurochs seem to have decided to let you go when you here a louder whine.  You've backed into one of the larger rocks.

Breathing hard, you realize you should be able to climb it, but its going to make a lot of noise.

PT

This is soooo not good.  Powering the crawler down to the minimum setting and putting it in neutral, I got out to check to see if there was a way around this rock.  I had snagged my laser when I exited the vehicle, but I didn't feel a whole lot safer with it in my hand.

You slip out, noting that some of the aurochs are showing slight signs of reviving.  Crossing through the long brown stalks, you see a low, slanted stone that you could ride up without too much trouble, and then a four foot drop on the far side.

Its about a hundred square feet.  So you could easily go forward a little bit, and then back around it.  As long as that doesn't stress the aurochs too much.

PT

I survey the scene one final time before returning to the crawler controls.  Using the least amount of power possible I roll forward, then begin to back up onto the slanted stone.  I'm not sure just how much noise the crawler will make as it tips into the drop.  If all else fails, maybe I can laze a couple of the more interested aurochs to distract the rest of them.  I didn't see Ben-Sidar while I was wandering around.  He probably found a nice rock to hide behind.

You roll the crawler up onto the limestone rock, and over the edge smoothed by wind and water, very quietly, and "ka-thump" it lands on the other side amidtst the fluted brown grass and twiglets that might have dreamed of being saplings.  Ban-Sidar and his wolf are waiting there as well with anxiety changing to triumph on both their faces, in that moment you can see the close bond of friendship and love between the two as Ban-Sidar's hand rests in the great predator's ruff on the back of the neck.

One aurochs looks up at you, and shakes its head as if annoyed you haven't left already.  But then it goes back to hanging its head low, and you realize the herd is falling asleep right there.

You drive away into the night until you get a safe two miles away from the awesome creatures in an area where the brown "grass" is a bit taller than usual.

You wake with morning light...

PT
OOC: Thats what a GE 7 looks like.

I pop the door and of course, Ban-Sidar is already up.  Since the firepit was a couple of miles away, cooking up some coffee was out of the question.  I didn't really need the caffine anyway.  I grabbed my laser as I left.  Having a laser with me was beginning to become second nature.

That was fun last night.  How often does that happen?  Also, since we had to leave our campsite a bit earlier than we had planned, what would you like to do about breakfast?

"Ah, you have luck, that is good. The lucky often survive a thousand trials where the prudent fail at the first.  The aurochs would never move at night, unless they were harried, perhaps by wolves, or perhaps..." He pauses, and gives you a dark look. "Perhaps by enemy tribesmen."

After a milrat breakfast, the two of  you are on your way again.  The day passes with intermittent showers which have Ban-sidar in a foul mood, and necessitate more eating of milrats since the blue flowered moss won't start.  Ban-sidar regards eating your milrats as akin to eating sawdust, except for the chocolate cake part which he likes rather too well.

He's willing to open up all your milrats just to get out the cake.

After lunch, he is much more cheerful what with his mainly subsisting on cake when he is used to a diet of mostly protein and tough starches.

PT

Great, the Ban's Master Scout is a sugar junkie.  I'm glad I swiped his chocolate bar before I gave him the sausage and eggs this morning.  Tomorrow morning, maybe I'll even let him have a cup of the hot cocoa mix.

The charge indicator was hovering steady on the average, despite the showers.  The crawler's solar cells were much more efficient than the twenty percent conversion rate with which I was familiar.  At the lunch halt, I picked up more stored power.  This was a good thing.  I needed to have the ability to move at night or in bad weather if it became necessary.

Truth be told, Ban-Sidar wasn't all that bad of a guy.  He was an expert at survival on this world.  He accepted me as myself, although I wasn't too sure exactly what he thought that was.  He wasn't afraid of technology, or at least if he was, he controlled it well.  I could have done a lot worse for a guide.

I felt a little guilty riding dry in the crawler as Ban-Sidar rode on his whatever that was in the rain.  I wasn't guilty enough to offer to switch places, though.  I did have a rain poncho in my backpack which I decided to offer to him at the night halt.

Curing one of out infrequent 'comfort stops', I asked, Ban-Sidar, at our current rate of travel, how long will it take to get to the place of the people who live behind the wall?

You check out the conversion rate, its around seventy percent efficiency.  It seems to be some sort of paint which can be pretty much spray painted on, it looks like.  Maybe there's a special trick, but you can't see it, not even in the documentation hard copy.

"By mid-day, if the rain holds off, we will see the great house of stone.  We will need to leave your crawler hidden somewhere near the stone house for it would not be accepted by the cowards.  Their only response to demons is to flee from them."

He takes the rain poncho with some skepticism, but ends up liking it.  That night, the rain truly does come down.

The next morning it is clear though, and you would think things well until Ban-sidar informs you that the stream a few hours ahead will now be a river.

PT

It was time to dig out the operator's handbook again.  Some tracked vehicles of my time period were capable of aquatic operation.  Since this one was designed for planetary exploration, I was hoping it was, too.

This morning, I served hot cocoa with the bacon and egg mealpacks.  I filched the chocolate bar from his breakfast again.  I had been putting mine aside, too.  I figured they might be good as lightweight trading items.  I mean, if Ban-Sidar was bonkers for chocolate cake, I didn't want to see what he would do for the real deal.

I decided to pack for the trip.  I added some mealpacks, the foil wrapped chocolate candy bar disks, a small toolkit, a pop-up tent, and a sleeping bag to my backpack.  If we were going have to leave my crawler, I wasn't going empty handed to the walled village.  Maybe I could pick up a pair of blades similiar to the ones I used back home.

I also took a few minutes to radio back to the Yankee to tell them of my progress and my plans.  I listened to the news of what has been happening there with interest.  I threw in some 'Oh Noble Leader' language in case Ban-Sidar was evesdropping.

After breakfast, I asked for permission, then took a picture of Ban-Sidar's cat buddy.  I asked what his name was and what his kind were called, then printed the information on the back of the picture and added it to my survey data.  I left my pictures and notes in the crawler where they might be found, just in case something were to happen to me.

The operator's manual says the crawler is rated for a hundred hours at depths of ten feet.  The time rapidly goes down as the depth is increased. The maximum safe depth is ninety feet but thats only for a couple minutes.

Ban-Sidar is skeptical at first of hot cocoa, and then his eyes widen, and he has to struggle to remain dignified in the grip of childish glee.  He starts doing some calculations in his head, which involves moving his lips, and you realize he is trying to guess how many cocoa drinks would buy a bride.  Its easily less than ten.

The WOLF (not cat, sorry) is Aler, and his kind is simply known as a wolf.  You take some pictures, and arrange things.  Talking to the Yankee, you find out that they are having some theft problems, and that the barbarians are fleeing bad weather at the Edge of the World which the Yankee crew thinks means the edge of human usable plant life.  So the barbarian hordes are on the move, and the person they were to contact is in teh path of the hordes.

Driving that day, brings you to a river about fifteen feet wide.  You both parrallel it, and that leads you to a village, or what was a village.  The small castle is in ruins.  The huts are black marks on the ground.  The fields are covered with brown grass, and the "Roads" are getting overgrown.

PT

I can see that I'm going to have to lock up the food supplies in the crawler to keep someone from pilfering all of the sweet stuff.  That isn't a problem.  I've been keeping the crawler locked anyway to 'keep the demons inside under control'.  With Ban-Sidar's sugar junkie side emerging, the demons were really going to need controlling now.

So, the barbarian hordes are on the move toward the place I need to go.  That wasn't good news.  I didn't need to check my ammo supply to see that I'd run a little short on stopping power.  I guess I'll just have to figure something out when we get there.

When I saw what remained of the village, I got out with my laser to investigate.  I had to ask,  What happened here, Ban-Sidar?  Who would want to so totally destroy a village?  At first glance, I didn't see any bodies or other remains, so it didn't appear to have happened recently.

Ban-Sidar smiles,and thumps his chest in pride.

"Two winters ago, I and my people destroyed this place.  Lost many warriors attacking their stone house.  Carried off many slaves.  It was a great victory."

PT

OOC:To clarify, its a more long-term thing than an immediate thing, and its not one great group just up and moves.  But their is a gradual migration.

I could feel the rage building within.  These 'people' razed an entire village.  I struggled to control it.  I knew it was a different planet with a different set of rules, but I didn't care.  What pissed me off the most was the fact that he was boasting about it.

Ban-Sidar.  My voice dropped at least an octive as I resisted the urge to blast a big hole through the center of his chest.  Why did this village have to die?

He looks oddly at you with a question on his face.  But at the same time, his practised reflexes have him turning the wolf toward you, and his hand falling near his sword blade without conscious thought involved.

"Why do you speak to me in that tone? They were weak, we are strong. We needed their supplies, and the slaves helped make us prosperous."

He's about fifteen feet away, and you're sitting in your open crawler.

PT

I am a warrior.  I speak as I choose, but I will explain myself this once.  My people value life.  We are not proud in the taking of it.  We do what is necessary, but we do not take joy in it.  Among my people, someone who takes pride in the death of others is considered to be a danger to all and is put away in a place where he will no longer harm others.

I had to keep reminding myself that I needed him and that this wasn't my planet.  Then, the thought hit me.  For however long it took us to get a message back and another ship to get here, this was my planet.  I can't sleep with one eye open, so...

Do you consider me to be weak?  Will you also slay me and steal my supplies?  If that is what you are thinking, consider that when we first met, I could have easily killed you instead of knocking over your shield.  If that is still what you are thinking, perhaps we should decide the matter right here and right now of who is the stronger warrior.

He turns to face you full on with his face dark with rage, and his hand openly on his sword hilt.

"You insult me! You are a camp brot..camp...one who shares my fire." He stumbles over unaccustomed words until settling on something gender neutral to his mind. "I would not kill you, not unless you were a thief.  Not unless your demon magic corrupted your mind.  Once you go back to your people, then yes, I may kill you.

I find your ways to be sad ways. Boring. Dull.  There is little enough joy in life. Why would your people seek to take it away and throw what little we have as if it was a bone-picked carcass, not even fit to give to the carrion birds?  Do your people laugh?  We the Ban are happy, we are happy because we are strong."

PT

And just how would I know of the joy your people share, other than you bragging about whacking an entire town?  Do you have art?  Do you have music?  Do you dance?  Where is this joy you speak about?  How am I to know of this joy your people have when all I've gotten from you is raiding my cake supplies?

I took a couple of moments to try to control myself.  If I don't keep control, I could lose this fight.

How can you stand there and claim that we have no joy when you've tasted our hot chocolate and chocolate cake?  Do you think soulless drones could have created those things?  Do you want to know what makes me freakin' happy?  You stand right there.  Don't you even move.

I 'borrowed' some parts from the crawler's radio.  After getting a crash course in electronics while working on the ship's robots, it wasn't hard to whip up some external speakers for my iPod.  I took my kitbashed sound system and placed it beside the crawler.  I cued up my sixties party mix section and let it fly.  Some of the songs included:

"Jenny Take a Ride!" by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels
"Venus" by Shocking Blue
"I'm a Man" and "Gimme Some Lovin'" by Spencer Davis
"Eli's Coming" by Three Dog Night
"Steppin' Stone" by The Monkee's
"Nobody But Me" by The Human Beinz

As my oldies boomed out across the dead village, I screamed out.  This is what we celebrate.  This is life.  What do you treasure?

His hands flex on the sword, and he spins the wolf right and left.  Obviously torn between the desire to flee, and the desire to decapitate, but he retains his grip on his anger and fear, and just glares at you.  His wolf growls, a long racheting promise of savage violence that provides a terrifying undertone to "Venus".

During the whole time, your fingers are but two inches away from the butt of your laser blaster, but you're suddenly aware that fifteen feet on a wolf that can run faster than thirty miles per hour is not very much distance at all.  But with your throat dry, you match him glare for glare, daring him to come and get you.

Finally, he turns aside. And you let the music halt.

"Well?"

A long pause as he grinds his jaw.

"Very well. Your people know of joy. They know pride, and honor.  But your way is not my way. Your way takes you full into the clasps of the demons so that you dance with them.  The Ban do not dance with demons.  We wrestle them to the ground, and tie them firmly so they mad do no harm. And you know nothing of my people. We dance, we sing, but we also glory in victory.  Why is that wrong?  I tell you, to stand over the body of a man who had been trying to gut you like a fish, and to know you are alive, and he is dead. There is nothing sweeter.  Even your songs cannot match that."

OOC: Misty is trying something very difficult here.  She's try to convert a proud and successful man to her way of thinking.  She has had some success with lesser issues, but the cost of each enlightenment is rising for Ban-Sidar.  Now I think she's doing a very impressive job of it, aided by her personality and tech toys, but I also realize people are often not overly fond of the truth.

So I'm going to make a roll to see if she is convincing.  Hmm, not what I expected.  But thats the benefit of dice, they get you out of your rut.  This could have been very bad with Misty fifteen feet from a seven hundred pound battle trained wolf, and a professional swordsman, but it looks like she pulled it out, but just barely.

I think we will add @1 to her willpower, and @1 to her persuasion.

PT

I'm calmer now.  The music helped me to relax and bought me some time to wind down.  I spoke softly, not having to compete with thousand year old rock and roll.   Ban-Sidar, I do not expect the way of my people to be the way of your people.  We are two different tribes, but that is not a bad thing.  We can learn from each other.  You have already taught me much of your world.  I would like to learn your songs.  I would like to learn your dances.  Someday, perhaps, I can show you some ways of my people to demonstrate that not all demons are as bad as you think.  Can we work together as allies now and perhaps friends later?

I hoped that I could patch the radio back together.


OOC:  Thank you for the commentary and the pluses.  The destroyed village provides a perfect location to counterpoint their cultural differences and maybe forge a better working relationship.

You and he both follow an overgrown path along the river until you come to what he claims is a ford.  Of course its man-high flooded at the edges, worse in the middle.

On the far size, you can see a tower rising above trees.  It looks like a radio tower, but several miles distant.

You try to stick the radio back together, but end up shorting it out, and smoke winding about your head so that you have to open the crawler window to air things out.

PT

As the radio went 'frizzlesnark', I couldn't help but wonder how well any cleaning robot aboard the ship would have survived under my care.  When Ban-Sidar wondered why smoke was coming from the crawler, I told him that the demon of farspeaking did not like me messing with his house earlier, so I released him to go back to his world.  It was easier than trying to explain how I crosswired some connection  in a radio that I wasn't supposed to be messing with.

So, is this the place where you want me to leave my vehicle?  Is the stone wall village at that tower?  We could camp here for the night to wait for the river to go down enough to use the ford.  I could stand to do a little laundry while we are here.  You could see if the hunting is any good.  Also, I'd like to examine the stone house back at the village.  There might be some techno goodies still there.  Then again, there might not be either.  I would need to look to see for sure.

Ban-Sidar likes your plan.  The both of you search about for a place to hide the crawler.  He finds a small wash that leads into the river.

"If you anchor it with rocks behind the wheels, and then we cover it with branches from the trees near the river side, no harm should come to your demon vehicle even if thieves or another rain comes."  He suggests.

It is indeed the place, and you manage to do some laundry, although the water is a bit churned up, and muddy.  So you exchange sweat and dirt stains for a litte dirst spread out throughout the clothing.

As he hunts, you go walking back to the burnt stone village. You take an hour to look, and the only thing you find is a skull with a hole in it.  Weeping, you bury the skull under a pile of rocks, and eventually head back to the campsight where a cheerful Ban-Sidar is cooking fish he caught in the river, along with berries from a tree.

PT

I kept telling myself that the dirt in the clothing was just a bit of natural coloring to allow me to blend in better.  Yeah, right.  I didn't realize how used to the clothing refresher I had become.

The crawler took a little while to hide.  I took a tree branch and attempted to brush out the crawler's tracks.  It wouldn't fool the Master Scout, but it gave me something to do to help kill the afternoon.  I had snagged some extra mealpacks before we hid my transportation, so food on the move wouldn't be a problem.

My pack was fairly stuffed.  It should have been heavier than it was.  I guess that I'm still getting used to the capabilities of the 1.1 version of my body.  I took a moment to inventory my things.  I had my weapons, survival gear, investigative kit turned planetary survey package, some food for trading and for eating, and my personal stuff.  I pretty much had everything I owned on my back and in my beltpack.  I wondered if this was how bag ladies started out.

The fish and berries were good.  I got pictures of the berry tree and a closeup of the berries.  I didn't get there in time to get a shot of the intact fish.  I admit I'm not a nature photographer, but at least others would know what I did after I delivered my report.

Ban-Sidar, we should get an early start in the morning.  It's going to be a long walk.

The next morning you both set out after a hurried breakfast a few minutes after dawn.  The day's hike began in peaceful silence, except for the jump of a fish as you and the scout stepped over the mud-covered ridge of white stone in the center of the now shrunken river.  The water at worst came to your ankles so you found yourself copying Ban-Sidar's example of taking off your shoes.

It was slippery, but not sharp.

Meanwhile, the wolf enjoyed a morning splash bath upriver.  He kept up with the humans, but at the speed he could run, he could spend much of the morning playing, and still arrive before you.

Once across, and re-shod, you hiked for about two hours, and came into a thin forrest, which showed signs of being used as a woodlot.  Chopped stumps, and the occasional log, with an "LX" marked into them dotted the underbrush.

Indeed you could hear someone chopping wood, and occasionally a shrill yell from the town, or a bawling of a cow could be heard as the wind shifted in your direction.

PT

I practiced my 'rich client wants scruffy detective" smile a couple of times as we approached the woods.  Getting to the village was a good thing.  I was on a scouting and scavenging mission.  While Ban-Sidar was a good guide, he didn't have anything to help me with the scrounging part of this trip.  Absentmindedly, as we approached, I checked to make sure that my weapons were ready.  Just because I have a touch of paranoia, that doesn't mean that no one is out to get me.

Master Scout, have you been to this village before?  If so, what can you tell me about these people?  For example, is there a standard greeting that they use?

"They hail each other, and they insist on their titles very much.  For women men who hide behind walls they are strong. My people have attacked them many times, twice seriously. Their lord is canny, and brave, and full of tricks, but he is not popular with the others of his land."

PT

Ban-Sidar, since your people have attacked them many times before, do you think could be a bit dangerous for you to just walk up to the main gate and knock?  These folks might be a little cranky to see one of their enemies just waltz up to the front door.  I was a little concerned that their general dislike of big guys with swords, no matter how valid and understandable, would extend to this big guy's travelling companion.

Do your people ever hire out as guards for traders or merchants?  I explained that if they thought the Master Scout was working for me, which in a way is not untrue, maybe we might just be able to pull this off by posing as traders and get out of here with everything still attached in the proper places for all concerned.

I did have a random idea.  Too bad I didn't get zapped onto the ship with my guitar.  I've been told that I have a pretty good voice and no one has ever thrown rocks at me for my playing skills.  I'm not ready for Van Halen, but I do all right for myself.  Maybe, I could have passed myself off as an entertainer or a... a Bard.  Maybe I'd just better stick to trading.

Let's go meet the neighbors.  I'm ready when you are.

"Sometimes we trade with them, Misty.  If they see me coming in a small group they would know I was either here for trade, or as an emmissary.  Either way, I would be safe as long as I don't break one of their laws.  But they do have a lot of laws.

Of course, if they were especially angry from some recent attack that might not apply."

He shrugs, and then laughs.

"Lets go find out if they want to make an example of us."

On that madcap and fatalistic note, you breathe deep, and head on toward through the forest.  Once on the other side, you see fields and a medieval village enshrouded by a high curtain wall, and in the midst of it is a castle.

Ban-Sidar points out one field that looks like its been burnt.

"Just a raiding attack. Not a full-fledged war here recently. Probably stole some wolves, and burnt the field as distraction."

You can see several workers in the fields look up, and then one runs off to the town.  It looks a small,but prosperous place.

The only things out of line with what you might expect is that radio tower extedning from the castle's highest tower.

PT

Well, at least if we weren't expected, we'll be announced.  I resisted the urge to take some photos of the area.  This probably also wasn't the time to reveal myself as a techno-witch warrior.  I would use the title of Trader.  Since they liked titles, I would have one for them.

I knew a little something about acting around 'Royality' from my days in the SCA.  I wasn't sure how it would translate here, but it was somewhat better than just going in cold.  I needed to get into the castle and talk to their local 'Mr. Wizard'.  He would probably be the one with the best access to the kind of tech toys I needed.

Assuming that this place has one, we should stop off at the local watering hole for a brew and some local gossip.  We might learn if anything exciting has happened lately and get a feel for how the rulers have been treating their subjects and any outsiders.

You walk across the fields to a small double-rutted path, and up and down several pleasant dimples in the road (for this would be a nice stroll if not for the fear of being pincushioned at the end) until it takes you down to a cleared spot in front of the gate where several such "roads" meet.

The gate is open, and an official in a brown with velvet trim tunic, and loose trousers, and sandals, with several cords in his hand, backed up by three pikemen, and one archer who follow behind the official ten feet, walks nervously toward you two.

PT

This guy is as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  It wouldn't take much for our official greeter to have us killed.  I didn't plan on giving him any reason to go off on me.  I kept my hands open and away from my equipment.  I smiled.  I didn't make any sudden moves.  I hoped Ban-Sidar was as fond of keeping his skin intact as I was.

Hello.  I am a traveller by nature and a trader by profession.

"Ah, a trader. Good." His expression eases a bit, and he stands a bit more tall instead of anxiously bent over. "Then you, Trader, need to know our customs. Your weapons will be bound with cord, in peace-bond. If you break the cord, you'd best be in dire peril, for the least punishment for such is we take your weapons.  But the Count and Third Ship's Security Arven De Regineu is a man much taken with the concept of justice for all. Appeal to him if ought mistreat you.

There is a house set aside for traders, and the count would visit with you at your convenience.  He is in his study at the moment supervising the work of our scribes."

They let you in, and you realize the economy is simpler and poorer than you expected.  No pub or tavern.  Instead, you get drunk on weekends in the church building which is the only building of goodly size that is not the count's. Perhaps five hundred people live here.

"Friday night is for getting sloshed, and Saturday for moaning in the fields, and Sunday for repenting." The baker informs you when you ask.  When you ask him his name he says Tom Baker of course, who else?

The "house" is a small hut with a door, and some wooden boxes with latches that you can secure if you have a lock.

You note some oddities tho'...some of the windows in the castle glint in the sunlight, and you see one man slip by with what looks like a cannonball, but he's moving too quickly for you to be sure.

PT

"The Count and Third Ship's Security?"  That was an interesting Title for any planetary ruler.  The Title had to have some basis in history.  Perhaps the big guy had access to some artifacts.  I made a mental note to investigate that further.

As I wandered, I looked for any other signs of a power generation system.  I looked for PV power panels.  I looked for passive heating systems.  I looked for...  OK, I looked for anything unusual.  As I looked, I decided to meander over to the church.  If the people in this place didn't like technology, the local cleric mught be a good person to ask to understand why.

You see a windmill spinning, and some smoke or steam coming out of one of the castle's many chimney's.  The windmill is pulling water from a well, and also pumping water up to the castle.

You walk into the local church.  The place is grander than any structure but the castle, and it exceeds the castle in being obviously designed, instead of thrown together.

It looks faintly Gothic with plentiful demons, some such that look monstrously vicious, and one that holds what you recognize as a laser blaster.

"Spirit of the grass." Ban-Sidar says.  "They are wise to be frightened of them."

You walk in, and you see an old man, in a brown robe, faced away from you, and praying before an altar.  In the middle on the wall above the supplicant is an empty cross, and on the right is a man in a space suit with a halo around his head, and a rocket in his hand who is assailling some sort of monstrous octopus in the stars.  On the left is a happy idyllic scene of a priest smashing a computer keyboard under foot while happy farmers push their plows behind domesticated giant wolves.



PT
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Tue 01 Nov 2005.

Hmmmm... looking around, I realize that this might not be the place to look for any personal computers.  Still, I'd have to meet the priest or pastor, whatever they call him around here, sooner or later.  It might as well be sooner.  I coughed quietly for a moment to let him know that I was here.

He creakily rises, and turns with a general smile which changes when he sees you, and your equipment.   It broadens greatly, and then weeping he comes forward to hug you around the neck.

"After so many years, more than a decade, at last, at last, you have come to heal our world, and bring us back into the Star Confederacy."

He wipes his eyes, and beams at both of you.

"Please follow me, I am Elder Westerly, the care of the church is given to me.  Follow me, I will have servants bring food and drink, and the count."

PT

I gave Ban-Sidar a big smile.  Would you mind going outside to make sure that we're not disturbed for a few minutes?  I'll make sure that you don't miss the food.  I need to talk to the Elder privately for a bit.

Elder, before you do these things, we need to talk privately...  I reassure him that I did indeed come from the stars, but there is a little problem.  I give him the general details of our initial mission, how the evil AltInt caused our ship to land very badly, and how we need to find a few things to get things sort of working again.  I didn't add the personal details about being blipped from the year 2005 onto the ship.  That would be just a little too much to share at the moment.

I also explained that Ban-Sidar was here as my local guide and that I would like him to be treated well.

Ban-Sidar smiles back at you, and then with a suspicious glance backwards, he heads out the double doors of the church.

Once you are alone with the Elder, he sits down in a pew, and drapes a robe covered shoulder over the back and armrest at the aisle end of the pew, and gestures for you to take one across from aisle.

He listens, and as you tell of the ArtInt his face falls, but you can see him muttering a prayer, and by the time you are finished with your tale, he is recovered.

"Dear lady, we had hoped from the description of the powers of the ship Kineticut Yankoo, and the wisdom of your leaders, that great things might be done here at the Count's hold.  But I see that evil has struck, has excersised its freedom, but good will prevail, although at a cost, always a cost."

He looks away down distant years, and then turns back to you.

"We are the manor that contacted you, and we held this place despite the barbarians, and did not move for we had assurance of your coming in great power.  Now things are more difficult, still."

PT

Elder, our leaders are still wise.  We still have great power.  We will still help.  We just need some things to be able to provide it fully.  For example, how did you power the device used to communicate with our leaders?  Do you know of any equipment storage locations to which we might be able to gain access?

This wasn't looking good.  Unless this castle had some serious subbasements, the techno treasure trove wasn't here.  Still he did mention something about our ability to, as he said, "bring us back into the Star Confederacy".  That means there has to have been some starflight capability here previously.  My best chance for scrounging stuff was probably somewhere near there.

Elder, where is the other starship?  Where was your starport?

"I mean no insult, but we had hoped that you would land outside the manor, and set up a fusion generator, and use a Caitlin-Tyche Multi-phase Type VII Laser Cannon, although we were never sure what this weapon had to do with the Word of God, to "deny the area to any hostiles"."

You recognize what he is talking about.  Its Plan A.  Make contact with friendly locales, set up a defensive perimeter, start building stuff and attracting friends.  You're still working on what Plan B is.

"The Count is our Archeologist Scientist, and Chief Experimenter.  My job was mostly to wave smoke in front of the Inquisition so they would not notice what he was up to.  He said he powered it with a steam engine, and a water drop.  But I'm not real clear on how those worked.

I do know that the first landing on this world was in Lanton.  But that is months away.  Star Hill is but two weeks away, and it is considered sacred by the Order of Technomancers, but they are a secret society known for their wicked ways.  Of course, the High Church in Ragval where my King sits is where the Inquisitors store the demon devices before the Festival of Destruction."

PT

Well, I'm sort of all the help there is, so far.  I'm making a combination recon, first contact, and scavenger mission.  This is the first contact part.  As to the scavie part, we had to dump our antimatter to be able to land without exploding.  We really need power sources and stand alone computers to get our fabrication units working and our other people mobile.

I dug a legal pad out of my pack.  I made a few notes and a crude map with the river, woods, and the village drawn on it.

Can you show me the directions to Star Hill, Ragval, and Lanton?  Also, can you tell me more about the Technomancers?  I think that will be the next stop on the tour.

I really wish that I hadn't fried the radio.

"If you will come see, my lord the count, I can do better than that.  He had a topographic satellite map from his revered ancestor that he found in the Security Log Books."  The Elder points toward the statue of the spacesuited man on the wall.  "It was old, but before it crumbled, my lord made himself a copy.  A most beautiful thing.  Even the Inquisition could find no evil in it."

PT

That would be great.  I think we need to bring my guide back in here.  I don't think he likes being left out of things.  There was a lot which I didn't know about this place.  For example, a Festival of Destruction didn't sound like my kind of party.   Also, if these guys took any moves for their Inquisition from the one which I had read about in my history classes, they weren't going to be as easy to work with as Ban-Sidar.

I also didn't like the idea of setting up a Type Seven Laser Cannon and blasting anyone who didn't agree with my philosophy into small charred lumps of carbon. I know that it was an authorized plan of action, but I didn't feel it was the best plan.  There had to be a way to work out some kind of agreement.  Even if there wasn't, I still needed to try.

I went to the door.  I opened it to look out and call Ban-Sidar.

He's waiting just outside, on edge, and he comes back in with a look of relief.  You and he follow the Elder into the back of the church, and across a small grassy space between two buildings which is covered by a stone "awning", held up by arches every seven feet.

You go into the castle, and through a food pantry, and skirt the upper edge of a kitchen where a dozen cooks are heating boiling water, and slicing onions.  And from there to a small, beautifully decorated room.

The Elder throws a lever, and you hear a rush of water.  And then the floor starts jerkily rising.

"Its an elevator. The Count says he put it in because he's lazy, but he did it for me so I don't have to climb the steps to his study."

PT

We rode up on the waterpowered elevator.  I watched Ban-Sidar reaction to the floor rising.  Ban-Sidar, I have to ask you a question.  We do not know each other very well, yet.  I feel that I can trust you, though.  I need your help a great deal.  What I have to do can possible help everyone on this planet.  Can I depend on your help to do what I need to do no matter what it takes?

He is breathing deeply, and rapidly, and his hand is on his sword hilt with the arm muscles flexing and unflexing.  He looks at you with his dark brown eyes dilated to almost black, and you can see the hyper-awareness in him.

"Misty, what does it matter to me what the dogs and the sheep are well? I am a Master Scout of the Ban-Sidar."

"No, my son, you are a child of God. Christ the Redeemer loves the Ban and the city-folk of great Lanton equally, and all who live in between."  The Elder says softly.

"Your god is kind, magic man, but he does not rule the grasses.  Only demons rule there, and this planet is created by demons.  You fight, eventually you lose. Then if you have terrified the demons enough in your life, they leave you alone in hell.  Your relatives sing your praises of your great deeds to remind the demons to fear you."  Ban-Sidar replies evenly, looking about for some demon attack.

PT

This wasn't going well.  I wasn't going to referee a debate on the relative merits of the planet's two cultures.  I didn't have the patience or the skill to do it well.

I had an idea.  (I went with it because I don't get ideas often enough to be able to waste them.)  I dig into my waistpack and pull out two quarters.  I give one to each of them.  These coins have value where I was born.  Examine them.  They have two sides, each different from the other.  The coin is your world.  One side of the coins is the Spirit of the Grass.  The other side is the Demons.  The coin is not complete without both sides, just as your world is not complete without both cultures.

Ban-Sidar, I'm on a mission.  To do this, I need the help of both the spirit of the grass and the demons.  I promise you that I will do you no harm in my quest.  My only goal is to ultimately help my people...  and yours.

Elder, Ban-Sidar is a good man.  He has his ways, as do you.  I do not expect either of you to change your ways of thinking.  I need help from you both to get my mission accomplished.

I wondered when the Count was going to arrive.  I really needed a distraction.

The two men both take your quarters, and are entranced.  Ban-Sidar, all on his own, figures out the joy of flipping a quarter in the air, and watching it spin.  Meanwhile, the Elder is muttering something about "Incredible smith work. No chisel marks. Hmmh." as he holds it up to his eye.

And then both realize they are being rude, and turn to you.

"Misty, you don't understand. The Spirits of the Grass are the personal demons of the Grass and the Tribes that live there. All is demons. From the King of Demons, Lord Bethany, to the Queen Octopus, Tiamat, to the lords of wind and rain, and all the way down to the Spirits, and even below them to the Crawlers, and the Imps, and the Weakness Demons."

"Dear lady, I understand that this formidable warrior is an honorable man. And I'm sure he would never rob me without giving me a chance to fight first."

"Of course."  Ban-Sidar replies. "Unless I was on a raid.  But here and now, I am a guest."

The door opens to a hallway, and you hear a pleasant baritone voice call out from the next room.

"That you Elder?"

PT

The coins are yours to keep.  I didn't think I'd need them to buy a can of Pepsi any time soon.  Pepsi...  Mounds bars...  Moon Pies...  There were some things from my old life which I missed a lot.  I missed my Chicago White Sox, too.  They never ever won anything, but I still liked them.

I turned toward the door when I heard the voice.

The three of you walk down the hallway past bags of things with pungent and acrid smells, and then the count steps out with a bubbling pot of something that even smells worse.

He's tall, raven locks with wide deep blue eyes that can either sharpen into inquiry, or radiate good cheer.  A loose linen shirt is bound up around his elbows revealing large wrists, and arms corded with muscle, and decorated with sword scars, and small circles of chemical burns.  He walks in his knee-high cavalry boots with the grace of a natural athlete...

And you recognize him.  Not the clothing which is utterly different, but him.  The guy from your vision.

His jaw drops open.

"You!"

The jug drops from his fingers, and shatters on the floor where it starts smouldering through a carpet runner.  And then it bursts into flame as he leaps back.

PT

I grab the Elder by the collar and pull him out of danger.  I don't know how or where this guy came from, but that wasn't as impotrant as getting the fire out quickly.  I looked around for a bucket of sand and tried really hard to not breathe in any more of the crap from the fire that I had to.

Ban-Sidar starts to whale the fire with a bag of chemicals, but the count yells "No." and points to a tapestry on the wall.  You and he jerk it down, and smother the fire.

"Well, um, sorry. You're the star girl, aren't you? Welcome to my lab. I'm usually not this clumsy, you just gave me a shock."  He seems to have recovered his urbanity.

"Here everyone, come into the other room.  I have windows we can open."

PT

If it makes you feel any better, I'm as shocked to see you as you are to see me.  My title is CeeCeeElSix Terri Reynolds, but I try to avoid that mouthfull and just go by Misty.

I go with him to the room with the windows.  At this point, I'm a little too stunned to do much else.  I do sneak a glance at Ban-Sidar to see his reaction to my being called "Star Girl".

In the other room, he opens several waxpaper windows by turning a screw, and Ban-Sidar comes over to help him.  Its a large, airy room, with a ceiling reaching up forty or so feet, and what once were elegant mosaics thoroughly blackened by fire.

Two scribes are in the most well-lit corner, copying on a draftsman's table from one book to another.  The source book seems to be made with a plastic cover, bright yellow and purple.

In the middle of the room is a large collection of pots, some one fires, and some sitting there.  Off to the back corner is what you recognize as a steam engine.

In a metal hutch on one wall, you see what looks to be a computer monitor, locked in by grated front doors, and well-protected there.

Ban-Sidar is struggling with a thought.

"Does this man mean that you are the child of the Evil Star, the Queen of Demons, a daughter of Tiamat?"

PT

As they opened the windows, I wandered over to see what book the scribes were attempting to duplicate.  I avoided going too close to any of the cooking pots.  Who knows what they've got cooking in them.

I could see that this idea was troubling the big guy.  I had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn't mean this wasn't a problem.  Ban-Sidar, I have no idea who this child of the Evil Star, the Queen of Demons, a daughter of Tiamat is, but I can assure you that I'm not this person.  I am the daughter of Max and Sherri Reynolds of Dubuque, Iowa.  I think she was Vice President of the PTA when I was in grade school, but that's a far cry from being any Queen of Demons.

You start reading the page they are transcribing, through an open and cleverly decorated and enamelled frame of wood meant to hold the book's page in place.

...today we put out the fourth batch of modified puppies.  The mix of wolf DNA and elephant DNA seems to be holding steady, not like the chimera that died in Batch 10-K.  Terraforming of the native ecology to something more humanly friendly is proceeding as well as it could be expected after that evil witch, the Octopus Corp's most misbegotten child, the ArtInt attacked the Coordination Computer files again.  Some say, we are going to have to try to deal with the Octopus, as they now call it, permanently.  I fear they are right.  Its seems, even here, that ArtInts and Humanity cannot co-exist peacefully, but....

"Too bad. If you were the youngest daughter of the Octopus, that would mean you had great power. And yet were not too hungry to be dealt with."  Ban-Sidar replies.  Again you are reminded that his theology is at distinct odds with Western civilization's.  To him 'demon' is not innately bad, just hungry and powerful.

PT

I think I've just been insulted by a wolf-riding barbarian.  No, I'm sure that I have.  Ban-Sidar, just because I am not the youngest daughter of the Octopus, that doesn't mean that I lack power.  I knew it was wrong to do as I said it, but I couldn't help myself.  That coin I gave you is about a thousand years old, as my people count time.  That coin was new when I received it from a merchant on a planet so far away that a thousand wolves running a thousand lifetimes would be as but a single step for you across the plain.  I drew myself up to look as impressive as I could.  Do not offer guesses as to my power, because I may decide to show you how much power I actually hold.

I stood before Ban-Sidar, heart pounding as I waited for his next move, whatever it was.

Whatever you expected him to do, he doesn't.  Instead he smiles at you with a crafty look.  Its transparent what he is thinking as Ban-Sidar will never make a good poker player.

*She is a demon, after all.  She just admitted it. That explains much. Makes more sense than thinking she was human. Now I must use my demon-tricking guiles to get good stuff for my tribe from her without getting eaten, if I can help it. Glory will be mine!*

"Of course, Misty Star Girl. I would be glad to aid you in exchange for help for my people. But what help would that be?"

PT

Ban-Sidar, you figure out what your people need and I'll see what I can do to help.  In the mean time, we do need to see what the Count has to say.  Oh, and let's keep this Star Girl thing quiet.  We wouldn't want the wrong people hearing about it, would we?  If he thinks I'm a demon, that's fine.  Whatever gets him to work with me, within reason, is fine.

I turned my attentions to the Count.  Sire, would you tell us about your village?

He grins back.

"I think since we danced together you could call me Ari."  He raises an eyebrow hopefully.

"Also, our visitor wished to see the map." The Elder adds.

"Ah, the map, of course.  Well my village has been held in my family's hands since it was founded by the very first Third Ship Security Officer of the starship Blue Eyes of Bethany.  We discovered..."

"He discovered, and then convinced us, including a skeptic namely me."  The Elder interupts.

"As I was saying, we discovered my ancestors log book, and while it often skipped over vital points, it also had a wealth of information.  And I began to see that technology was not evil.  At least not always.  But I could not tell anyone because such a view would have my lands taken from me, and if I were lucky, a headsman's axe from the King, rather than torture from the Inquisition."

"At this point, I came on the scene.  An orthodox believer in the demonic nature of tech."  The Elder says.  "Sent here because of disturbing rumors."

"Right. Well, we made our radio tower, and talked to teh stars.  That was easy.  Most of the parts were here.  And no one recognized it.  And we held our position, occasionally using tech to help us survive say a barbarian invasion.  But slowly, my neighbors got whittled away as the tribes advanced, until, I am not just on the front lines, but on the tip of a sword point."

"You are a very brave and cunning warrior." Ban-Sidar said. "Many of my people dream of killing you."

"Ah, thanks, I guess." the Count replies.

PT

How did technology become considered to be so evil that you could be tortured or killed for having some of it?

I was in way over my head here.  I had to focus on what was important, my mission.  I knew that I couldn't personally save the entire village from the barbarian hordes.  My goal was to get some power generating things and some computer gear back to the Yankee.  There was so much that I needed to know before I went visiting other cities looking for pieces of old tech.

Count, ummm... Ari, I noticed a monitor locked in the alcove over there.  Is it part of a computer system and does it work?  If so, what applications do you run on it?

The Elder stands.

"From the Catechism formed at the Council of Lanton. 'Being that the use of so-called technology offers the temptation for abuse of the planet, and for easeful attacks on our fellow humans, and for most importantly, it opens the path to domination of the human soul by creatures of inhuman malice and demonic intent.  Thus it is our duty, as caretakers and shepherds of the flock to recognize and warn one and all of the dangers posed by technology.'"

He clears his throat, and takes from a glass of water that the Count offers him.  Meanwhile Ban-Sidar looks on with interest shaded by tactical considerations.  The Elder has a good speaking style as well.

"After this, the restrictions were increased, generation by generation, and the warning eventually became a ban, and then one enforced by the force of arms sworn to the service of the Church.  Not that most people disagreed.  And often the people who disagreed got themselves killed in nasty ways, thus encouraging the others, or so it was in my youth.  Now we see less fools slaying themselves, and more court actions."

He then turns to you, and waits.

PT

I am a moron.  I am not even as smart as a moron.  These people have a deep-space capable radio.  I could get the engineer to take a look at it and maybe call for help.  We could tap into the crawler's power system to run it.  It wouldn't solve the short term problems, but it would solve the "getting some help to get home" problem.

Ari, Elder, I have a question.  Does the radio you used to contact the others who sent the ship still work?

"Well we would have to prepare.  Fix the great machine. Gather fuel.  But yes, we could send out a message."  The Elder says looking at Ari for confirmation.  Ari nods in agreement.

"You could send a message to the abyss? What about to the demons' flaming chariot that fell from the sky?"  Ban-Sidar asks.

"We might have to reconfigure the antenna, but we could, I think."  The Count replies after thinking about it a bit.

PT

I have a friend who is really good at fixing things.  As to getting the fuel, go ahead and gather it.  We will need it if my idea of how to take care of the power requirements doesn't work.  I think we could find something to take care of the flaming chariot problem as well.  I will need to go back to my people to get some help, but I think we can do it.

I look at Ban-Sidar.  I am from the same abyss that spawned the flaming chariot.  They are our enemies, but we are still from the same place.  As I say that, I look at the reactions of the others, especially the big guy's.  I don't need him wierding out on me.