You wake from bizarre dreams about playing a game show entitled "Your Money or Your Life" with various Rube Goldberg contraptions which do in unlucky contestants.  You feel confident that you can handle the questions, and then the game show host turns to you, and says.

"The next round of questions will be in Apache."

You feel the floor shake beneath you as the instrument of your demise readies itself...and then you wake, realizing that the floor really is vibrating.

Perfumed and soft air floats past your face.  Beethoven's Fifth plays softly.  You feel a soft rug under your body.

You feel no pain from the knife strike to your heart.

PT

I look around the room from my vantage point on the floor and wonder what sort of place I'm in.

 I slowly get up off the floor and stretch out as I gather in my surroundings.

The floor is a pale crimson with intricate black lines, and its edged by gold.  Its a very thick carpet.

There is an ernormous amount of room to stretch.  You're in a fifty foot wide carpetted corridor with a thirty foot gently arched roof.  It extends as far as the eye can see to your left, and a good hundred feet to your right it runs into a white wall with doors in it.

Bordering the corridor are small shoppes that remind you of an upscale mall.

Soft music plays.  Perfumed airs touch your face.

You see no one.

PT

Heh, well wouldn't this be funny if it WAS a mall.... well guess no time like the present to find out

I walk towards the doors on the wall and try to open them.

They slide open before you can touch them.

"Welcome to the S.S. Mary Piper bow end Convenience Emporium."

The voice comes from all around you in very good surround sound.  It is melodius, androgynous, and polite.

You see what looks like a high-end convenience store.  But looking closer, you see few products you recognize.

"Classic Coke...RC...Aspirin....and Lay's Potato Chips" you recognize.

"Bouncer's Choco....Restab4000......CrystalClear....Daydrink....Lewis's Serotonin Drops....WakeMela's....."

No one is at the cashier counter.

PT

I look around for someone.

Umm... hello?.. anyone?

If I don't find anyone or if no one answers I try to contact Devlin by sending out my thoughts to him.

Master? Can you hear me?

A skinny, lightweight robot snaps up from behind the counter.  At first it looks like its standing behind the counter, but then you see its actually part  of the counter.  It has no legs.

"Hello, customer. I'm dreadfully sorry, but I seem to have misplaced your personal identity file.  Would you like to re-enter your information for your personal ID while aboard the Mary Piper? Or we can run a tab if you wish to avail yourself of the privileges of Informational Non-Disclosure of the 39th Amendment to the Interstellar Harmony Accords."

Its got a determinedly perky voice.

PT

I look at the robot in wonder.

Sorry? the what in the what? Where am I?

"Customer, most sentient beings in the Interstellar Harmony use personal identification codes to control their financial and personal items.  However, the 39th Amendment, in the aftermath of the Total Perfection Justice Wars, allows entities to refuse to use this method.  Other methods are required to be available. It was found that allowing the potential for some criminality was better for human society than perfect justice under the Total Surveillance System that was tried, and then abandoned."

It pauses.

"If you wish more data on this interestesting time period, the History Nook, four stores up, has several fascinating multimax histories including the award-winning 'Time's Arrow' by Sir Lawrence De Havilland for 32.95 credits."

It pauses again.

"Customer, you are onboard the interstellar cruise liner, the S.S. Mary Piper.  It is flagged out of New Niewyawk, and is owned by Valdron Starlines."

PT

I shake my head in wonder and begin to leave this area. I stop just before the door and turn back towards the robot.

Umm, thank you. How long have we been out of port?

"Five IH days, eleven hours, twenty-three minutes." The robot replies.

PT

Thank you

I walk out of the room and begin to explore the Ship to find some other inhabitants.

Three minutes of searching is enough to reveal a wide array of shoppes, and the smell of food from a side corridor.

It does not reveal any people.

The ship feels empty.

PT

As I wonder around i notice slowly that I cannot find anyone else around.

Umm... Hello computer... umm, is there anyone else on board besides me? Hello?

"There are no other passengers aboard the S.S. Mary Piper than you." The voice sounds soft in your ear.

PT

Alright, how much longer until we next dock?

"Ordinarily, we would dock at Betelgeuse Out-system Port in three days, and four hours.  However, this will not be possible. We will not be docking."

There is a long pause.

"Should I summon medical attention? It has come to my awareness that the summation of this discussion may be traumautic for you."


PT

Why can't we dock? and why would this be Truamatic?

"The hyperdrive was overextended in a tachyonic storm, and so we are locked into permanent acceleration.  The captain ordered the evacuation to the lifeboats which was conducted in an orderly fashion, and then he and his navigator aimed the Piper at the nearest star to remove a threat to navigation.  He and the remaining crew then departed in good order on the last life pod."

The computer pauses.

"Unfortunately, our extensive sweeps missed you.  Your heirs will likely have good grounds to sue. On behalf of the Piper's crew, I apologize. Impact in 2 minutes, and fifty-four seconds with the coronasphere of Betelgeuse."

PT
OOC: This is what I call a 'Placeholder' world.  It theoretically gives a poor, taxed referee more time to think of another world.  It also does offer some opportunities.

I shrug and shake my head.

Well that's just lovely.... Are they're any weapons on board?

"The armory is sealed. But Modern PPS is open.  Its a personal protection services store with a wide array of items intended for survival and criminal encounters.  Also, Xeno-Hunt is open.  It has weapons intended to hunt the Rithodon, and Lautocombe's Creature along with lesser creatures such as cloned Tigers and Triceratops."

PT

Great, can you lead me to Modern PPS?

You follow its instructions to walk one hundred twenty five feet up the main concourse, and turn right.  After stepping through a security gate, a robot behind the counter pops up, and gravely asks you what you need.

You see sections labelled "Armor", "Evasion", "Basic Survival", "Irritants","Tracking", "Training Aids", "Close Quarters Weaponless", "Close Quarters Weaponed", "Lethal", and "Incapacitating".

Some stuff looks vaguely familar, but much doesn't.

PT

I look at the labels and think quickly.

I need something light weight but can stop most weapons for armor and a sword or a big knife for combat.

"Would Polysilk Armour Tunic with Concealed Hood by CoolStyle Protectives for 229 credits be acceptable for the gentleman?  Also, we have a fine selection of blades. We do have a genuine Bowie knife made of layered battlesteel with a diamond dust edge.  Its fourteen inches long. We do have other choices, both more concealable, and more dangerous if the gentleman wishes. The Bowie knife will run you 400 credits, and it is a certified replica of an antique weapon held in the Texan Museum in Near-Earth Orbit by the Matushita Family."

PT

I will take the polysilk armour and the most dangerous and most concealable knife you have. Charge it to me.

"Very well, sir."  It pauses. "Will there be anything else? Perhaps some medical gear.."

A whooping alarm goes off.

"We have some very nice multi-function flashlights...."

A wave of heat boils into the room,a nd the ship groans.

"Sir, we also,....mm...Sir, I'm afraid I've lost track of..."

You look out onto the concourse and see the far wall at the end,  bending, and ...bubbling.

The carpet catches fire, and choking fumes fill the air.  You're drenched in sweat, and acrid airs are making you tear up.  You can hardly breathe.

"Ma'am, what was your order?"

PT

I hop over the counter and reach for the label marked "armour" and attempt to grab the polysilk Tunic. I will then try to get to the labeled section marked "close quarter weapons" and attempt to find The concealable knife mentioned before. I take my time as it is hard to breath.

You struggle for the polysilk armor, and then rip it free.  Gasping, you slow your breath, and wobbling into one aisle divider,a nd then back to the other one, you proceed to the knives.

Whether you have one or not, you feel something in your hand, and descend to the floor in slow motion like a wave disintegrating upon the beach.  You hit the floor, and your body refuses to obey your demands...

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

PT