THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
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- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
1
Commander Aldair Hawle sat in his private office, waiting for the next shoe to drop as he brushed his left ear to deal with a tickle beneath the fur that could indicate he’d picked up a flea somewhere. He doubted it, though. His fiancee insisted on only the best treatments for insects and bugs and they’d shared a bath and snorkel last night at home. It was probably just a nerve ending or something. If he ever needed sleep, he’d have Zowaix explain it. No, perhaps Goole. Goole wasn’t likely to punch him awake for falling asleep on him. But that had been the last night of shore leave and he’d probably needed it after that evening out with the boys after the two weeks with his lady, exploring each other, taking a holiday and visiting most of Cora II’s tourist attractions and traps.
They’d been there the two weeks because Katara, the Vixen controlling the engineering department had declared she needed the two weeks to perform the upgrade overhauls to the engines and weapons with Groal and a full day of that, in Hawles’ estimation, would have been arguing over who was in command until they agreed that HE commanded the lot in the compound on the ground and SHE commanded them up here, where he’d used to work. The upside was that they now had engines capable of achieving velocity five for short periods. Or 4 billion miles a second. It was impressive, up about a third of a billion miles a second, but still terrifying as it just exposed how BIG space was. On the other hand, it meant that they could do velocity 4 as a cruising speed. Most ships counted that as a maximum speed. On the third hand, that probably meant Postlethwaite would be using them as the fast reaction ship more, which meant more combat, hence the enhenced… enhanced weapons. On the fourth hand, they could get medical attention and science assistance where it was needed faster too. And he thought he was going to have to use a different ranking structure as, even using the feet he had up on his desk, he was out of hands. And his ears weren’t getting involved.
But now he was here, waiting on why Postlethwaite had told him to wait and not to do the shakedown to see if the engines worked to maximum effect. Or, even, to make sure the upgraded energy weapons and forward torpedo launchers were completely tuned. Stikka had worked on them and the Cyborg Racon had been able to check things from the inside out with the help of Harvey and Gilly, the tech teamMates (that was their chosen definition, not a typo) and, if they’d gotten it wrong, everyone would know about it. For about five seconds. They were also carrying torpedoes with twenty five percent more power than before. An upgrade from Monta and his ‘spy’ on the Rodomont had told him Postain hadn’t received any such upgrades. So this was something to be concerned about.
His door booped. “Advance unto me all those who wait outside,” he said, spinning his chair around. The door stayed closed. “Enter,” he said, planting his feet on the carpet to stop himself spinning.
The elegant form of Junior Ambassador Colleen Una entered the room after the door opened. “I was not sure if that was a ‘come’ or not,” she told him.
“With you, Colleen, it’s always come… in!” He mentally put his face in his hands although, externally, he didn’t seem to have moved. “Sorry to hear your break got cancelled last minute.”
“Yes, well,” she said, shifting slightly before sitting, “these things happen, Aldair.” The Collian shifted her head fur and, working out it was still on the table, Aldair ‘hid’ the brush with strands of his fur in the teeth into a drawer. “Although,” she continued, “I have a sneaking suspicion the cancellation of my connecting shuttle was organised by a Mouse on a space station?” She quirked an eyeridge at him and Hawle put on his best ‘innocent; expression, spreading his hands to emphasise it.
“I have no knowledge of any underhanded tricks used by a certain Mican superior of mine to keep you here, Colleen.” He leaned forward. “Although it does add to my concerns,” he admitted. “We’ve been given new weapons and new engines. And now our Ambassador has been kept here by ‘circumstances’.” He put the fingers he’d used to airquote the last word away. “It speaks of trouble, Colleen.”
“Well,” she reminded him, “makes it perfect for us, then. So, I just thought I’d tell you I’m back.”
He nodded and stood to open the door for her as he was pretty sure she was about to head out. “I am, after all, a Gentlebunny,” he said. “Don’t tell Sarina.”
He turned around and almost had a heart attack. Sarina Raven, his Burman Feline First Officer, was occupying the corner of the room, having come through the door from the bridge when he was letting Colleen out. “Don’t tell Raven what,” she asked. “That you know how to open doors?”
Hawle pointed a finger. “No cheeking a senior officer,” he warned, having long ago learned not to call himself a ‘superior’ one. “How’s the crew situation?”
“Everyone’s reported back on board, sir,” Raven told him. “And wondering why we’re not scheduled for a shakedown cruise.”
“Them and you both, eh,” Hawle grinned. “Well, Henry’s signal will be coming in five so the link should be.. Here it is,” he finished, checking his incoming mail. It included the basic summary of the mission. Hawles ears drooped. “They have to be kidding,” he said.
Raven, fearing the worst from the ear droop, asked the plan.
“We’re to proceed to a location outside of council space after picking up a guest. When we’re there… We’re… We’re… we’re to use the munition to..” He paused and coughed. “We’re to reignite a dead sun.”
“WHAT??”
Commander Aldair Hawle sat in his private office, waiting for the next shoe to drop as he brushed his left ear to deal with a tickle beneath the fur that could indicate he’d picked up a flea somewhere. He doubted it, though. His fiancee insisted on only the best treatments for insects and bugs and they’d shared a bath and snorkel last night at home. It was probably just a nerve ending or something. If he ever needed sleep, he’d have Zowaix explain it. No, perhaps Goole. Goole wasn’t likely to punch him awake for falling asleep on him. But that had been the last night of shore leave and he’d probably needed it after that evening out with the boys after the two weeks with his lady, exploring each other, taking a holiday and visiting most of Cora II’s tourist attractions and traps.
They’d been there the two weeks because Katara, the Vixen controlling the engineering department had declared she needed the two weeks to perform the upgrade overhauls to the engines and weapons with Groal and a full day of that, in Hawles’ estimation, would have been arguing over who was in command until they agreed that HE commanded the lot in the compound on the ground and SHE commanded them up here, where he’d used to work. The upside was that they now had engines capable of achieving velocity five for short periods. Or 4 billion miles a second. It was impressive, up about a third of a billion miles a second, but still terrifying as it just exposed how BIG space was. On the other hand, it meant that they could do velocity 4 as a cruising speed. Most ships counted that as a maximum speed. On the third hand, that probably meant Postlethwaite would be using them as the fast reaction ship more, which meant more combat, hence the enhenced… enhanced weapons. On the fourth hand, they could get medical attention and science assistance where it was needed faster too. And he thought he was going to have to use a different ranking structure as, even using the feet he had up on his desk, he was out of hands. And his ears weren’t getting involved.
But now he was here, waiting on why Postlethwaite had told him to wait and not to do the shakedown to see if the engines worked to maximum effect. Or, even, to make sure the upgraded energy weapons and forward torpedo launchers were completely tuned. Stikka had worked on them and the Cyborg Racon had been able to check things from the inside out with the help of Harvey and Gilly, the tech teamMates (that was their chosen definition, not a typo) and, if they’d gotten it wrong, everyone would know about it. For about five seconds. They were also carrying torpedoes with twenty five percent more power than before. An upgrade from Monta and his ‘spy’ on the Rodomont had told him Postain hadn’t received any such upgrades. So this was something to be concerned about.
His door booped. “Advance unto me all those who wait outside,” he said, spinning his chair around. The door stayed closed. “Enter,” he said, planting his feet on the carpet to stop himself spinning.
The elegant form of Junior Ambassador Colleen Una entered the room after the door opened. “I was not sure if that was a ‘come’ or not,” she told him.
“With you, Colleen, it’s always come… in!” He mentally put his face in his hands although, externally, he didn’t seem to have moved. “Sorry to hear your break got cancelled last minute.”
“Yes, well,” she said, shifting slightly before sitting, “these things happen, Aldair.” The Collian shifted her head fur and, working out it was still on the table, Aldair ‘hid’ the brush with strands of his fur in the teeth into a drawer. “Although,” she continued, “I have a sneaking suspicion the cancellation of my connecting shuttle was organised by a Mouse on a space station?” She quirked an eyeridge at him and Hawle put on his best ‘innocent; expression, spreading his hands to emphasise it.
“I have no knowledge of any underhanded tricks used by a certain Mican superior of mine to keep you here, Colleen.” He leaned forward. “Although it does add to my concerns,” he admitted. “We’ve been given new weapons and new engines. And now our Ambassador has been kept here by ‘circumstances’.” He put the fingers he’d used to airquote the last word away. “It speaks of trouble, Colleen.”
“Well,” she reminded him, “makes it perfect for us, then. So, I just thought I’d tell you I’m back.”
He nodded and stood to open the door for her as he was pretty sure she was about to head out. “I am, after all, a Gentlebunny,” he said. “Don’t tell Sarina.”
He turned around and almost had a heart attack. Sarina Raven, his Burman Feline First Officer, was occupying the corner of the room, having come through the door from the bridge when he was letting Colleen out. “Don’t tell Raven what,” she asked. “That you know how to open doors?”
Hawle pointed a finger. “No cheeking a senior officer,” he warned, having long ago learned not to call himself a ‘superior’ one. “How’s the crew situation?”
“Everyone’s reported back on board, sir,” Raven told him. “And wondering why we’re not scheduled for a shakedown cruise.”
“Them and you both, eh,” Hawle grinned. “Well, Henry’s signal will be coming in five so the link should be.. Here it is,” he finished, checking his incoming mail. It included the basic summary of the mission. Hawles ears drooped. “They have to be kidding,” he said.
Raven, fearing the worst from the ear droop, asked the plan.
“We’re to proceed to a location outside of council space after picking up a guest. When we’re there… We’re… We’re… we’re to use the munition to..” He paused and coughed. “We’re to reignite a dead sun.”
“WHAT??”
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
This better not result in Hawle dying in some sort of way. You can't make Elena a widow before she gets married!
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
2
Aldair and Sarina stepped out onto the bridge of the Loper as launch time approached. Hawle thought that was a hangover from a long past age as they never actually launched into anything these days, just turned the positioning engines on and wander away from where they’d been. But, before they got down to things, he had a small gift for one of his crew so, holding the device behind his back, he sauntered up behind the newly promoted Lieutenant (junior Grade) Polva and tapped her on the shoulder. “I have something for you, Chappers,” he said, making the Human turn towards him.
“Yes, sir,” she asked. She laughed as he brought the laptray console extension set out for her. “It’s gonna be months before it gets that big, sir,” she said, referring to the gift from her Russellian husband that she carried inside her now. She’d been a regular visitor to Doctor Barleycorn in the first three months but the visits and, thankfully, the sickness, had relented now. She’d declined Hawle’s offers of a desk job on a base somewhere as her family was here and she knew they’d help her with everything she was going to be going through. Doctor Fuze had even suggested he’d babysit but Sarah Polva had the idea he just wanted to run scans on what could turn out to be a hybrid.
As Sarah put the gift down to one side, Aldair stepped back to his seat. “Dawton,” he said, indicating the Human on the comms, “Put us on the comm in Una’s cabin, engineering and medical, would you?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to put it on shipwide, sir?”
Hawle smirked. Other Commanding Officers might make some kind of snap remark at that seeming refusal to carry out orders but he was never one for that sort of thing. “Only if you find it easier than limiting communications, Lieutenant.”
“I am up to the challenge, sir,” the Human replied, guessing that was the correct answer.
“Good man but make it shipwide this once!” Turning to watch the grumbling Human, he waited until Dawton gave him a thumbs up signal before he spoke. “Attention one and all,” he said imperiously. “This is your most eminent Captain with the answer to the question that’s occupying your minds most at this moment. Namely ‘why have we been dragged back onboard a week early?’ Well, I could blame it on Chief Engineer Katara insisting she only needed two weeks for the improvements but I’d never do that. I can tell you we’ve been chosen for a most eminent mission and no, you can’t leave the ship now. All the teleport facilities are temporarily off-line and the shuttle bays are locked. We’re heading for Micanna where we’re to pick up a Professor Caltaya…” Hawle imagined the cry from Zowaix in the science department as one of the foremost planetary Engineers in Council space was name checked. “...and his latest project material. We will then proceed to a location outside Council space where there are no colonies and no life of any sort due to the sun having died several hundred years ago. Our orders are to go there and excite exobiologists for centuries to come by using Professor Caltaya’s science project – that’s contained in something that looks curiously like a torpedo, hint, hint – to try and coax that sun back to life. We leave in five. All hands to departure stations.” He tapped the button on his console to close the line.
“And the reason for the engine upgrades,” Stikka asked from Hawle’s left.
“I’d say it’s obvious, sir,” Match put in from behind them.
“Jan,” Chief Engineer Katara told her best friend as they ate in the refectory, “I might just kill that Rabbit one day. It’s patently obvious why they upgraded our engines for this.” She bit into her sandwich and imagined the squeal the filling would have given as its spine snapped under her teeth – if it hadn’t been dead, processed, meat of course. The engineer grinned wryly at the thought, chewed and swallowed as the Human opposite moved her... Spaghetty..? Pasta snakes. As the Human moved her pasta snakes around the blades of her fork. “It’s because, if anything goes wrong, we’re going to need to get the **** out of the system before it explodes!”
Jan almost choked at the line, as unexpected as it was whilst remaining honest and logical. “You think we’d better run a few more tests,” she asked, spearing what looked curiously like a meatball onto her fork but probably wasn’t. “I need to run the calibrations for the replication machines again sometime soon. Can you sniff this.”
She held out the fork with the ball on it and the silver Vixen leaned in and sniffed it. “It’s safe,” she ventured
Jan ate it and scowled. “It’th Tuna,” she complained.
“Said it’s safe. Never said it was right.”
“Micanna, huh,” Doctor Fuze said blithely as he made sure the stock take on medical supplies was completed correctly. The diminutive Raitchian stepped down off the stool and placed his datapadd in the receptacle so it could get charged up for the inevitable next usage. “Going to see David whilst you’re there?”
Night Barleycorn, Chief Medical Officer of the Loper, didn’t bother stepping out of her office to respond. “My plans with Detective Brunton are no-ones matter but mine, Bazil,” she warned. “And, if you think I’m telling you plans after you somehow ‘accidentally’ turned up in my hotel’s restaurant that time…”
“I told you, I’d heard about their seafood…”
“A hotel four hundred miles from the nearest coastline does not get good reviews for its catch of the day.” The black furred Mican stepped out now, towering above him due to her partial Raitchian heritage that no-one talked to her about. Fuze was, pretty much, the only Raitchian she could stand working with for long periods of time but she did have her limits. “Anyhow,” she added, “it’s not like we’re going to be there for long, is it?”
Fuze winced at the jinx.
Jaqui Pangal looked around the torpedo room and decided she didn’t much like being in here. The tubes had to be double sealed and automated systems carried the tubular death weapons from where they were stored in their inert stage to where they were launched from before the onboard systems mixed this and that together and made them into a considerably more ert stage. Then they destroyed mountains. Cities. Entire colonies… There was a death scent in this room and she was quite happy to leave it, slapping a level 4 security seal on the door after it closed. Only her security clearance could open the door now. Well, hers and Commander Hawles but the Lappinean Security Chief was pretty sure he’d never need to use the room. She cursed herself as she realised she was tempting fate with thoughts like that. Then she headed off to make sure the Professors room was ready.
“Five seconds,” said Hawle.
“Ten seconds to departure,” Sarah told the room.
“Four…”
“Nine.”
“Three…”
“Eight.”
“Two…”
“Seven. Six,” ‘Chappers’ continued, wondering why Hawle hadn’t said ‘one’.
Behind them Zowaix, Brockian lead scientist, heaved himself onto the bridge, clearly having run from the science deck. “What do you <hff> mean Professor Caltaya’s coming on board?”
Groaning, Stikka paid Hawle one credit as the ship moved off station.
Aldair and Sarina stepped out onto the bridge of the Loper as launch time approached. Hawle thought that was a hangover from a long past age as they never actually launched into anything these days, just turned the positioning engines on and wander away from where they’d been. But, before they got down to things, he had a small gift for one of his crew so, holding the device behind his back, he sauntered up behind the newly promoted Lieutenant (junior Grade) Polva and tapped her on the shoulder. “I have something for you, Chappers,” he said, making the Human turn towards him.
“Yes, sir,” she asked. She laughed as he brought the laptray console extension set out for her. “It’s gonna be months before it gets that big, sir,” she said, referring to the gift from her Russellian husband that she carried inside her now. She’d been a regular visitor to Doctor Barleycorn in the first three months but the visits and, thankfully, the sickness, had relented now. She’d declined Hawle’s offers of a desk job on a base somewhere as her family was here and she knew they’d help her with everything she was going to be going through. Doctor Fuze had even suggested he’d babysit but Sarah Polva had the idea he just wanted to run scans on what could turn out to be a hybrid.
As Sarah put the gift down to one side, Aldair stepped back to his seat. “Dawton,” he said, indicating the Human on the comms, “Put us on the comm in Una’s cabin, engineering and medical, would you?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to put it on shipwide, sir?”
Hawle smirked. Other Commanding Officers might make some kind of snap remark at that seeming refusal to carry out orders but he was never one for that sort of thing. “Only if you find it easier than limiting communications, Lieutenant.”
“I am up to the challenge, sir,” the Human replied, guessing that was the correct answer.
“Good man but make it shipwide this once!” Turning to watch the grumbling Human, he waited until Dawton gave him a thumbs up signal before he spoke. “Attention one and all,” he said imperiously. “This is your most eminent Captain with the answer to the question that’s occupying your minds most at this moment. Namely ‘why have we been dragged back onboard a week early?’ Well, I could blame it on Chief Engineer Katara insisting she only needed two weeks for the improvements but I’d never do that. I can tell you we’ve been chosen for a most eminent mission and no, you can’t leave the ship now. All the teleport facilities are temporarily off-line and the shuttle bays are locked. We’re heading for Micanna where we’re to pick up a Professor Caltaya…” Hawle imagined the cry from Zowaix in the science department as one of the foremost planetary Engineers in Council space was name checked. “...and his latest project material. We will then proceed to a location outside Council space where there are no colonies and no life of any sort due to the sun having died several hundred years ago. Our orders are to go there and excite exobiologists for centuries to come by using Professor Caltaya’s science project – that’s contained in something that looks curiously like a torpedo, hint, hint – to try and coax that sun back to life. We leave in five. All hands to departure stations.” He tapped the button on his console to close the line.
“And the reason for the engine upgrades,” Stikka asked from Hawle’s left.
“I’d say it’s obvious, sir,” Match put in from behind them.
“Jan,” Chief Engineer Katara told her best friend as they ate in the refectory, “I might just kill that Rabbit one day. It’s patently obvious why they upgraded our engines for this.” She bit into her sandwich and imagined the squeal the filling would have given as its spine snapped under her teeth – if it hadn’t been dead, processed, meat of course. The engineer grinned wryly at the thought, chewed and swallowed as the Human opposite moved her... Spaghetty..? Pasta snakes. As the Human moved her pasta snakes around the blades of her fork. “It’s because, if anything goes wrong, we’re going to need to get the **** out of the system before it explodes!”
Jan almost choked at the line, as unexpected as it was whilst remaining honest and logical. “You think we’d better run a few more tests,” she asked, spearing what looked curiously like a meatball onto her fork but probably wasn’t. “I need to run the calibrations for the replication machines again sometime soon. Can you sniff this.”
She held out the fork with the ball on it and the silver Vixen leaned in and sniffed it. “It’s safe,” she ventured
Jan ate it and scowled. “It’th Tuna,” she complained.
“Said it’s safe. Never said it was right.”
“Micanna, huh,” Doctor Fuze said blithely as he made sure the stock take on medical supplies was completed correctly. The diminutive Raitchian stepped down off the stool and placed his datapadd in the receptacle so it could get charged up for the inevitable next usage. “Going to see David whilst you’re there?”
Night Barleycorn, Chief Medical Officer of the Loper, didn’t bother stepping out of her office to respond. “My plans with Detective Brunton are no-ones matter but mine, Bazil,” she warned. “And, if you think I’m telling you plans after you somehow ‘accidentally’ turned up in my hotel’s restaurant that time…”
“I told you, I’d heard about their seafood…”
“A hotel four hundred miles from the nearest coastline does not get good reviews for its catch of the day.” The black furred Mican stepped out now, towering above him due to her partial Raitchian heritage that no-one talked to her about. Fuze was, pretty much, the only Raitchian she could stand working with for long periods of time but she did have her limits. “Anyhow,” she added, “it’s not like we’re going to be there for long, is it?”
Fuze winced at the jinx.
Jaqui Pangal looked around the torpedo room and decided she didn’t much like being in here. The tubes had to be double sealed and automated systems carried the tubular death weapons from where they were stored in their inert stage to where they were launched from before the onboard systems mixed this and that together and made them into a considerably more ert stage. Then they destroyed mountains. Cities. Entire colonies… There was a death scent in this room and she was quite happy to leave it, slapping a level 4 security seal on the door after it closed. Only her security clearance could open the door now. Well, hers and Commander Hawles but the Lappinean Security Chief was pretty sure he’d never need to use the room. She cursed herself as she realised she was tempting fate with thoughts like that. Then she headed off to make sure the Professors room was ready.
“Five seconds,” said Hawle.
“Ten seconds to departure,” Sarah told the room.
“Four…”
“Nine.”
“Three…”
“Eight.”
“Two…”
“Seven. Six,” ‘Chappers’ continued, wondering why Hawle hadn’t said ‘one’.
Behind them Zowaix, Brockian lead scientist, heaved himself onto the bridge, clearly having run from the science deck. “What do you <hff> mean Professor Caltaya’s coming on board?”
Groaning, Stikka paid Hawle one credit as the ship moved off station.
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Nice to see that things are starting off easy before we get hit with the seriousness and danger that this mission is going to present. Hawle better make it back in one piece. His face is good at catching desserts. ![Mr. Green :mrgreen:](./images/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif)
![Mr. Green :mrgreen:](./images/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif)
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Three words that may indicate trouble if you recall previous 'Loper' stories.Amazee Dayzee wrote: ↑Tue Jan 02, 2024 6:12 pm Nice to see that things are starting off easy before we get hit with the seriousness and danger that this mission is going to present. Hawle better make it back in one piece. His face is good at catching desserts.![]()
"This is ours."
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Haven't seen any of them at all saying it just in this moment but I will keep a look out for it. You think Hawle who I think thrives on this kind of danger will be the one to say it?
Also, check your notes.
![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
Also, check your notes.
- Harry Johnathan
- Posts: 2067
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2020 12:10 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Missions to a sun always go well. Cillian Murphy can attest to that.
Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But [The LORD] said, “Yes, you did laugh.” - Genesis 18:15 (NIV).
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
3
At the spaceport on Micanna, the Celican stepped around his cases and stopped at the large crate that comprised the results of thirteen years work at academies on Celica, Raitche and, for the last few years, here on Micanna. He’d helped finance the operation through publishing papers and working for the expanding colonial situations, advising on irrigation methods, soil reclamation, metallurgical analysis and everything in between. All of it for the fees involved. And that was with the grants and sponsorships provided. Now Professor Caltaya was ready to proceed to the final stage of his life’s work. The end of the hunt. The lined Celican chuckled, his tired eyes half closing as he thought he’d better start thinking about his next hunt, hadn’t he? Perhaps a Vixen to grow old… well, older with? A twilight romance. Did he know the words? What were the words? He’d seen plenty of assistants manage it. Perhaps he’d picked up a few lines and tactics from them along the way? He’d think about trying some. When this was done. Might being a Galactic celebrity improve his chances? He put his hand on the crate. All the simulations had worked perfectly after a first few attempts and the experiment that they’d carried out had produced a mass fission event that almost overloaded the power grid with the energy just a gram of this compound had fired up in the fragment of solar rock the Council had provided from a dead sun in Mican space. The University had needed to apologise for the destruction of those few ounces and they’d needed to rebuild half the science block but the power was there. The creation was there. The potential was there. And he was here.
And so was his assigned bodyguard. Well, Caltaya thought, his escort anyway. He was pretty sure he could handle himself against the Mican Detective they’d allocated him, especially if the boy wasn’t watching. Apparently he’d volunteered for the responsibility as soon as the schedule was put up. The Professor had been a bit surprised but figured there was an ulterior motive. Something he chose to bring up now. “All right, David,” he said, his voice crackling as the throat implant he used after an accident on Demnos continued to malfunction, “we’re booked on this course now so you might as well tell me. Why were you so anxious to join me on this trip?”
David Brunton regarded the old Celican with something akin to amusement. He liked this old Celican. Had done since he’d first met him a week ago. He dressed shabbily for a Celican, with long trousers and a battered jacket that covered more than just his chest and personal area. He had an infectious smile and tales of his own intellect on planets Brunton had never been to and couldn’t afford to visit even if he had the chance. And he’d been interested in what David had thought on things too. Really interested, rather than just feigning it like so many other academics did. “I suppose I can tell you, Prof,” he replied. “Now that the University Chief can’t stop things. My girlfriend and future fiancée is the Chief Medical Officer on the Loper.”
The Professor pulled back his head and laughed. “So the University is actually paying you to make a booty call?” He put a hand on David’s shoulder and shook him with mirth. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
David grinned, his incisors shining. “If I don’t tell what,” he asked.
“Ah, well…” The Professor indicated his trunk. “I have a bottle of Wolven Brandy in there. A real one.”
David frowned. “That’s banned on this colony,” he warned.
“That’s why it’s leaving this colony,” The Celican remarked as the crates were readied and secured for the upcoming transport. They couldn’t be touched without setting off alarms now.
“They frown on it on Council ships too,” Brunton advised. “Something to do with being seventy-two percent proof?”
“Like I say…” He indicated the cafe. “Three hours until the ship gets here? Lunch? On the University’s account, of course.”
There was a skip in Brunton’s step now.
“It’s a short trip from Cora II to Micanna,” Hawle asked impatiently as they headed on a new direction at velocity three point five, “how come we always seem to get distracted en route? Match, are you totally sure we’re the only Council vessel in range?”
The Raitchian bridge science officer checked his readings again before confirming that, es, they were the closest ship to the distress call that, apparently, was coming from a registered liner with fifteen hundred people on board. According to their signals, an impact had left their engines dead and they were drifting close to the gravity well of a rather unfriendly gas giant. “Afraid so, sir,”
“Drat it. OK,” He tapped his comm. “Hawle to Katara.”
<“I hear you,”> she replied with her characteristic disdain for authority.
“Ready a team to board a Constellation Three class liner. They’ve had some sort of explosion in their engine room. They’re dropping into a gravity well. We’ll be with them in about fifteen minutes and we’ll use the traction beams to give you as much time as we can.”
<“Sir, that ship weighs about half a million tonnes. Six hundred thousand if all the rooms are booked. If it’s affected by gravity...”>
“I know. The traction power will burn itself out in a short while and she’s far too heavy to pull. But it’ll slow the descent. Dawton, signal Talvery station. Tell them what’s going on. Get them to send everyone they can. Even clippers. Their beams can slow it for the heavy lifters to get here...”
<“Thanks for the vote of confidence,”> Katara sniffed.
“...If Katara can’t get their engines back up and running,” Hawle continued, as though he’d been planning on saying that all the time. “I have full faith in you, Katara,” he added, before turning the link off with crossed fingers. “Then call Micanna and tell them we’re delayed, Dawton.”
“You lie very well, sir,” Raven told him as Dawton acknowledged the order.
“I’m totally confident in her engineering skills, Sarina,” Hawle protested. “Mind you, you’re going with her.”
Sarina stood up, ready to leave. “I’m not an Engineer though.”
“You have better social skills than she does.” Hawle rubbed his chin. “And I want someone over there who isn’t concentrating on the repairs. Just in case...”
At the spaceport on Micanna, the Celican stepped around his cases and stopped at the large crate that comprised the results of thirteen years work at academies on Celica, Raitche and, for the last few years, here on Micanna. He’d helped finance the operation through publishing papers and working for the expanding colonial situations, advising on irrigation methods, soil reclamation, metallurgical analysis and everything in between. All of it for the fees involved. And that was with the grants and sponsorships provided. Now Professor Caltaya was ready to proceed to the final stage of his life’s work. The end of the hunt. The lined Celican chuckled, his tired eyes half closing as he thought he’d better start thinking about his next hunt, hadn’t he? Perhaps a Vixen to grow old… well, older with? A twilight romance. Did he know the words? What were the words? He’d seen plenty of assistants manage it. Perhaps he’d picked up a few lines and tactics from them along the way? He’d think about trying some. When this was done. Might being a Galactic celebrity improve his chances? He put his hand on the crate. All the simulations had worked perfectly after a first few attempts and the experiment that they’d carried out had produced a mass fission event that almost overloaded the power grid with the energy just a gram of this compound had fired up in the fragment of solar rock the Council had provided from a dead sun in Mican space. The University had needed to apologise for the destruction of those few ounces and they’d needed to rebuild half the science block but the power was there. The creation was there. The potential was there. And he was here.
And so was his assigned bodyguard. Well, Caltaya thought, his escort anyway. He was pretty sure he could handle himself against the Mican Detective they’d allocated him, especially if the boy wasn’t watching. Apparently he’d volunteered for the responsibility as soon as the schedule was put up. The Professor had been a bit surprised but figured there was an ulterior motive. Something he chose to bring up now. “All right, David,” he said, his voice crackling as the throat implant he used after an accident on Demnos continued to malfunction, “we’re booked on this course now so you might as well tell me. Why were you so anxious to join me on this trip?”
David Brunton regarded the old Celican with something akin to amusement. He liked this old Celican. Had done since he’d first met him a week ago. He dressed shabbily for a Celican, with long trousers and a battered jacket that covered more than just his chest and personal area. He had an infectious smile and tales of his own intellect on planets Brunton had never been to and couldn’t afford to visit even if he had the chance. And he’d been interested in what David had thought on things too. Really interested, rather than just feigning it like so many other academics did. “I suppose I can tell you, Prof,” he replied. “Now that the University Chief can’t stop things. My girlfriend and future fiancée is the Chief Medical Officer on the Loper.”
The Professor pulled back his head and laughed. “So the University is actually paying you to make a booty call?” He put a hand on David’s shoulder and shook him with mirth. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
David grinned, his incisors shining. “If I don’t tell what,” he asked.
“Ah, well…” The Professor indicated his trunk. “I have a bottle of Wolven Brandy in there. A real one.”
David frowned. “That’s banned on this colony,” he warned.
“That’s why it’s leaving this colony,” The Celican remarked as the crates were readied and secured for the upcoming transport. They couldn’t be touched without setting off alarms now.
“They frown on it on Council ships too,” Brunton advised. “Something to do with being seventy-two percent proof?”
“Like I say…” He indicated the cafe. “Three hours until the ship gets here? Lunch? On the University’s account, of course.”
There was a skip in Brunton’s step now.
“It’s a short trip from Cora II to Micanna,” Hawle asked impatiently as they headed on a new direction at velocity three point five, “how come we always seem to get distracted en route? Match, are you totally sure we’re the only Council vessel in range?”
The Raitchian bridge science officer checked his readings again before confirming that, es, they were the closest ship to the distress call that, apparently, was coming from a registered liner with fifteen hundred people on board. According to their signals, an impact had left their engines dead and they were drifting close to the gravity well of a rather unfriendly gas giant. “Afraid so, sir,”
“Drat it. OK,” He tapped his comm. “Hawle to Katara.”
<“I hear you,”> she replied with her characteristic disdain for authority.
“Ready a team to board a Constellation Three class liner. They’ve had some sort of explosion in their engine room. They’re dropping into a gravity well. We’ll be with them in about fifteen minutes and we’ll use the traction beams to give you as much time as we can.”
<“Sir, that ship weighs about half a million tonnes. Six hundred thousand if all the rooms are booked. If it’s affected by gravity...”>
“I know. The traction power will burn itself out in a short while and she’s far too heavy to pull. But it’ll slow the descent. Dawton, signal Talvery station. Tell them what’s going on. Get them to send everyone they can. Even clippers. Their beams can slow it for the heavy lifters to get here...”
<“Thanks for the vote of confidence,”> Katara sniffed.
“...If Katara can’t get their engines back up and running,” Hawle continued, as though he’d been planning on saying that all the time. “I have full faith in you, Katara,” he added, before turning the link off with crossed fingers. “Then call Micanna and tell them we’re delayed, Dawton.”
“You lie very well, sir,” Raven told him as Dawton acknowledged the order.
“I’m totally confident in her engineering skills, Sarina,” Hawle protested. “Mind you, you’re going with her.”
Sarina stood up, ready to leave. “I’m not an Engineer though.”
“You have better social skills than she does.” Hawle rubbed his chin. “And I want someone over there who isn’t concentrating on the repairs. Just in case...”
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Always great to have a backup plan and nice to see that Hawle has one with Sarina. Great chapter that you out up.
Also, sent another note this time asking about something else. Please reply.
Also, sent another note this time asking about something else. Please reply.
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
4
Katara looked over her team. She’d chosen to leave her deputy, Januvitski, behind as it was bad form for the two seniors in a division to risk themselves on a mission so she’d taken Desty Rawell, the Salukan Canine who stood a full eight feet in height, Kirrie Muir the Mican and Mark Raston, her lusty eyed Human reprobate who was a specialist at navigation systems and an amateur specialist at trying and failing to chat up females. He was someone she’d miss on the professional front but he was one warning away from a transfer on the personal front. “You know the situation,” she told them. “We have a Constellation Three Liner with dead engines that’s falling into the gravity well of Kalora General. According to regs they run a Raicarra Humbolt 97 engine and we need to hope no-one’s been fibbing on the forms because we can supply the vast majority of the parts that engine needs.”
Desty stuck his cream furred hand up and Katara grumbled that he didn’t need permission to speak. This wasn’t a primary school. “Sorry,” he said, unsure if he’d done anything wrong. “I was wondering what we do if it’s the power flow circuits.”
Katara nodded. Raicarra’s little trick. They’d kept that part of the design to themselves on a ninety year trademark. The parts were good parts but could only be replaced by a limited number of service companies, which restricted the number of companies buying for now. “Been thinking on that,” she admitted. “We can route the power through the backups. It’ll fry the engine in about siz hours but they can get to a safe position and call in one of the services that has them spare.” She’d often thought she never wanted to be on a ship with a Raicarran engine. Even if more ships were paying for the right to use the parts. “Raven here,” she added, “is going with us to protect our lives in case of tool theft.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “Because, if anyone steals your tools, you BETTER be dead first, got it!?”
“Aye, Chief,” they replied in unison, being used to the boiler plate threat that Katara used on half the away missions.
<“Bridge to teleport room,”> Rawton announced as the group, minus Katara, donned safety gear, <“we’re in teleport range. Head over at your command.”>
“Accepted,” Katara replied, putting her own gear on before striding over to the pad with her team and the Burman. She put the open face safety helmet on. “Send us over, Jakkie,” she told the teleport Officer.
The Raitchian obliged, largely so she could have a quiet room again.
The group arrived close to the engine room and Katara immediately advised them to put on the breather masks as she sniffed the sharp aromas of non flammable gases in their vicinity. The helmet attachment covered their muzzles whilst still allowing speech like a security suit did. The outfit was lighter and thinner than security suits so they could get into conduits. They were heat and cold resistant and could withstand most levels of electrical shock and Katara appreciated them even if she didn’t much like them. The intersuit comm started up but Katara disengaged it so she could be heard outside the suit as a frazzle furred Raitchian coughed his way out from the engine room. Raven caught him as he fell into her arms and he looked up with tear streaked eyes. “Lieutenant Commander Raven,” she told him, “U.S.C. Loper.”
“Oh, th…” The male erupted in a burst of coughing as Katara stepped forward.
“Just nod if I’m right,” she ordered. “Don’t try to speak. The Nyartin gas is a throat irritant amongst it’s least dangerous aspects. “Your Engine blew,” she asked. He nodded. “The output regulator is broken?” Another nod. “Figures. That’s where that gas comes in to purge trace impurities. The purifiers should have dealt with the leak so they’re down too. Life support’s probably on minimal down here. Let’s get to it. Raven,” she added, “he’s one for Barleycorn.” If it’s not too late, she didn’t say. The Vixen’s team moved into the battlezone, leaving Raven to call home and send the patient back with a teleport tag.
Hawle watched the grey clad ship between him and the bright green and red gas giant and noted the downwards angle of the ship as they closed in on the nose of the ship. Now, he reasoned, was time to do the impossible. “Hold position relative to target, Chappers. Match, are we ready?”
“Systems are ready, sir,” he replied. “She’s descending at a rate of two hundred miles an hour. At this rate she’ll be crushed in eight hours. We need the others to get here quick. We won’t be able to…”
“Next time,” Hawle interrupted, “just say yes. Hit it!”
The yellow tinted beam – that was only coloured so that people could actually see it – cut from the aft of the ship and pulled at the front of the liner, trying to haul the nose up and tow her to safety. The Jenner, the Ronal and the Calton were on their way and the Bellaphron was coming behind them, although the old explorer class ship wouldn’t be with them for about twelve hours. The working museum ship the Loper had discovered a handful of years back might not be up to long term work and combat but her traction beams, when working, were the best in the sector and they had more of them than the lighter ships. “Take us to quarter normal, Chappers. Point us away from the lethal marble.”
“And here I’d thought about getting closer to it,” Sarah replied.
Hawle looked at the back of her head. “You’re getting chippier now you’re expecting,” he mused.
“It replaces the need for the bucket, sir,” she told him, engaging the impulse engines to pull away.
“Keep the beam intact, Match. Let me know when we’re reaching maximum strain.” He checked the readings. The Ronal was about two hours out. Again, this was too large a ship for the clipper to help, even with the Loper there. He reckoned they’d have a fighting chance if their fellow frigate Calton got there. He flicked a switch. “Commanders note for future reference. Smaller cruise ships are a smart idea. More exclusive, more intimate and more towable.” He clicked the recording off as the ship shook. Maximum strain had been achieved.
Barleycorn looked at the results of the invasive scans she’d run on her new guest and slapped her hands on her thighs. Right now she was happy he was out cold on the bed. He’d not been able to give assent but, after checking his personnel file, there was nothing in it to stop her assuming responsibility. “Bazil,” she instructed, extracting a blood sample for the Raitchian’s gene structure and blood type., “get artificial lungs made up for him, would you?” She shook her head. “His aren’t going to make it.”
Katara looked over her team. She’d chosen to leave her deputy, Januvitski, behind as it was bad form for the two seniors in a division to risk themselves on a mission so she’d taken Desty Rawell, the Salukan Canine who stood a full eight feet in height, Kirrie Muir the Mican and Mark Raston, her lusty eyed Human reprobate who was a specialist at navigation systems and an amateur specialist at trying and failing to chat up females. He was someone she’d miss on the professional front but he was one warning away from a transfer on the personal front. “You know the situation,” she told them. “We have a Constellation Three Liner with dead engines that’s falling into the gravity well of Kalora General. According to regs they run a Raicarra Humbolt 97 engine and we need to hope no-one’s been fibbing on the forms because we can supply the vast majority of the parts that engine needs.”
Desty stuck his cream furred hand up and Katara grumbled that he didn’t need permission to speak. This wasn’t a primary school. “Sorry,” he said, unsure if he’d done anything wrong. “I was wondering what we do if it’s the power flow circuits.”
Katara nodded. Raicarra’s little trick. They’d kept that part of the design to themselves on a ninety year trademark. The parts were good parts but could only be replaced by a limited number of service companies, which restricted the number of companies buying for now. “Been thinking on that,” she admitted. “We can route the power through the backups. It’ll fry the engine in about siz hours but they can get to a safe position and call in one of the services that has them spare.” She’d often thought she never wanted to be on a ship with a Raicarran engine. Even if more ships were paying for the right to use the parts. “Raven here,” she added, “is going with us to protect our lives in case of tool theft.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “Because, if anyone steals your tools, you BETTER be dead first, got it!?”
“Aye, Chief,” they replied in unison, being used to the boiler plate threat that Katara used on half the away missions.
<“Bridge to teleport room,”> Rawton announced as the group, minus Katara, donned safety gear, <“we’re in teleport range. Head over at your command.”>
“Accepted,” Katara replied, putting her own gear on before striding over to the pad with her team and the Burman. She put the open face safety helmet on. “Send us over, Jakkie,” she told the teleport Officer.
The Raitchian obliged, largely so she could have a quiet room again.
The group arrived close to the engine room and Katara immediately advised them to put on the breather masks as she sniffed the sharp aromas of non flammable gases in their vicinity. The helmet attachment covered their muzzles whilst still allowing speech like a security suit did. The outfit was lighter and thinner than security suits so they could get into conduits. They were heat and cold resistant and could withstand most levels of electrical shock and Katara appreciated them even if she didn’t much like them. The intersuit comm started up but Katara disengaged it so she could be heard outside the suit as a frazzle furred Raitchian coughed his way out from the engine room. Raven caught him as he fell into her arms and he looked up with tear streaked eyes. “Lieutenant Commander Raven,” she told him, “U.S.C. Loper.”
“Oh, th…” The male erupted in a burst of coughing as Katara stepped forward.
“Just nod if I’m right,” she ordered. “Don’t try to speak. The Nyartin gas is a throat irritant amongst it’s least dangerous aspects. “Your Engine blew,” she asked. He nodded. “The output regulator is broken?” Another nod. “Figures. That’s where that gas comes in to purge trace impurities. The purifiers should have dealt with the leak so they’re down too. Life support’s probably on minimal down here. Let’s get to it. Raven,” she added, “he’s one for Barleycorn.” If it’s not too late, she didn’t say. The Vixen’s team moved into the battlezone, leaving Raven to call home and send the patient back with a teleport tag.
Hawle watched the grey clad ship between him and the bright green and red gas giant and noted the downwards angle of the ship as they closed in on the nose of the ship. Now, he reasoned, was time to do the impossible. “Hold position relative to target, Chappers. Match, are we ready?”
“Systems are ready, sir,” he replied. “She’s descending at a rate of two hundred miles an hour. At this rate she’ll be crushed in eight hours. We need the others to get here quick. We won’t be able to…”
“Next time,” Hawle interrupted, “just say yes. Hit it!”
The yellow tinted beam – that was only coloured so that people could actually see it – cut from the aft of the ship and pulled at the front of the liner, trying to haul the nose up and tow her to safety. The Jenner, the Ronal and the Calton were on their way and the Bellaphron was coming behind them, although the old explorer class ship wouldn’t be with them for about twelve hours. The working museum ship the Loper had discovered a handful of years back might not be up to long term work and combat but her traction beams, when working, were the best in the sector and they had more of them than the lighter ships. “Take us to quarter normal, Chappers. Point us away from the lethal marble.”
“And here I’d thought about getting closer to it,” Sarah replied.
Hawle looked at the back of her head. “You’re getting chippier now you’re expecting,” he mused.
“It replaces the need for the bucket, sir,” she told him, engaging the impulse engines to pull away.
“Keep the beam intact, Match. Let me know when we’re reaching maximum strain.” He checked the readings. The Ronal was about two hours out. Again, this was too large a ship for the clipper to help, even with the Loper there. He reckoned they’d have a fighting chance if their fellow frigate Calton got there. He flicked a switch. “Commanders note for future reference. Smaller cruise ships are a smart idea. More exclusive, more intimate and more towable.” He clicked the recording off as the ship shook. Maximum strain had been achieved.
Barleycorn looked at the results of the invasive scans she’d run on her new guest and slapped her hands on her thighs. Right now she was happy he was out cold on the bed. He’d not been able to give assent but, after checking his personnel file, there was nothing in it to stop her assuming responsibility. “Bazil,” she instructed, extracting a blood sample for the Raitchian’s gene structure and blood type., “get artificial lungs made up for him, would you?” She shook her head. “His aren’t going to make it.”
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
It would be nice if artificial lungs were a thing that was common in real life. I am sure it would help people who need lung transplants to survive.
Great chapter! Once again, read my note. If you don't want a messenger, I still wanna try to RP with you.
Great chapter! Once again, read my note. If you don't want a messenger, I still wanna try to RP with you.
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
5
Katara finished the work in her allotted console and gave it a final, quick, blast with her miniature extinguisher can to make sure it didn’t spark up again before she closed up. Behind her, Raston finished working on the cabling, which trailed along the floor and dangled on the wall as they were going for speed, not perfection and the wall units weren’t a necessity anyhow. She called across to find out how Kirrie was getting on replacing the boosters for the core. |The Mican told her it would be five minutes.
“The engines just blew six hours ago,” the Captain told Raven, putting his hands on the console on the bridge. It was less than Raven had thought it would be, a small area five decks up as security cameras watched over the passenger areas. “We’ve kept them away from the damaged areas,” he continued. “We put on things to entertain and distract them but I think they know we’re getting too close to the planet. Some have noted the troubles with the engines and some have noted the thump of a tractor beam,” he continued, giving a wry grin to Raven that showed off his Raitchian teeth in their yellowed glory. The Champagne furred individual sighed. “Plus, of course, one or two had communits that picked up our distress call. Half our engineering team were taken out in the blast. I think they were trying to fix the power compressor…”
Raven moved around slightly, shifting her shoulders. “So, it’s not the…” She tried to recall the thing Katara and her team had talked about on the Loper. “The… uh… flow circuits?”
The Captain looked up at her. His tail twitched before he raised one hand up off the table. “I have no idea. I’m not an engineer.”
Januvitski decided that, from now on, her hair was going up in a bun as she noted a few strands on the console as she worked to draw power from everywhere she could to maintain the traction beam as the liner pushed the tolerances through the red line. She’d drawn power from astrometrics and sciences, closing down entire sections as she did so to counteract the drain on the power resources “Matny,” she called, dragging the attention of a Canine her way, “realign the power flow to bypass catering. Gets us about point zero five percent increase in gain.”
“Wilco, Chief,” he told her as she called Cedar to apprise him of the situation. He advised her that dinner would be late tonight then.
She shook her head. The priorities of a chef. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. She’d be thinking the same if she were him. She popped a Mint Imperial into her mouth and crunched it. The drain was still increasing as the liner sunk closer towards the gravity well. The computer, she mused, was being co-operative today. Thankfully.
Stikka worked his passage from the bridge engineering station, keeping the computer from fighting Januvitski’s operations by plugging himself into the system and keeping the autonomic systems busy and suppressed. He’d need a memory purge later on but, for now, the cyborg Racon was being useful in a way beyond anyone else.
Hawle looked at the ship on his screen and counted down the seconds and moments in quiet anxiety. They were losing the tug-of-war slowly but surely. He was running the numbers and estimated that, if they totally stuffed the ship, they could get five hundred off the liner at one go. Add in a teleport cycle of twenty minutes to get everyone off at the nearest habitable planet, which was an hour away at maximum speed, that meant they could do roughly two trips in the four hours they had. And there were almost five thousand tourists on that ship from the central worlds. He’d seen the manifest. Unless the called for back up arrived, he’d shortly have to start choosing who to save. Children first, he mused morosely. They took up less room so he could get more of them aboard. But how to choose the rest?
Dawton brought his quiet thoughts to an end. “Sir,” he called, “the Ronal’s on the line.”
“They’re five minutes out,” Match said and Hawle felt the universe lift from his shoulders as he instructed Dawton to put them on.
“Am I glad to see you,” Hawle told Lieutenant Parch, Senior Officer of the smaller ship as the silver and blue attired Mican looked back at him. “We need the assist.”
<“Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,”> Parch replied, leaning forward in his chair. He gave a half smile at Hawle’s considerably more liberal interpretation of th Uniform code. <“Heard you were a traditionalist, sir,”> he said respectfully. <“We’ll give you an assist soon as. The Calton’s about sixty minutes behind us. We’ll grab the tail.”>
“Appreciated,” Hawle replied before closing the line. He frowned. “Did he just intimate I’m old-fashioned?”
“I think the term is ‘classic’, sir,” Lieutenant Polva told him.
“Watch it, Chappers,” he replied, no malice in his tone. He tapped his comm. “Hawle to Katara.”
<“Katara here and busy, sir,”> the Celican replied.
“At least she’s calling me ‘sir’ now,” Hawle muttered, hand over his comm. “Just to advise you, the Ronal has arrived. How are things over there?”
<“Things aren’t exploding so they’re not as bad as the could be. It’s still pretty bad. Whoever did the last work on these engines was something of a jackarse. I wouldn’t trust them to run a replication machine, let alone a state of the art engine. If I didn’t know better I’d say the engine was designed to blow at some point.”>
“And, as you do know better?”
<“This engine was designed to blow at some point. Although, of course, I’d like not to say that officially. I couldn’t afford the slander charges.”>
“Slander? You? Never. Can you get them running again?”
<“It’ll take time. But yeah, now that the Ronal’s pitching in. Ah, heck.”>
Hawle frowned again. “What is it?”
<“I had Rawell checking the computer records. Sabotage is now confirmed. Someone set up the system to cause a power surge at a pre-determined time. Which means that not only was the blast premeditated...”>
“So was the location,” Hawle finished. “Do all you can, Chief. I have to check the manifest. Not just for who to save but who the target is.” He hung up the link.
Katara finished the work in her allotted console and gave it a final, quick, blast with her miniature extinguisher can to make sure it didn’t spark up again before she closed up. Behind her, Raston finished working on the cabling, which trailed along the floor and dangled on the wall as they were going for speed, not perfection and the wall units weren’t a necessity anyhow. She called across to find out how Kirrie was getting on replacing the boosters for the core. |The Mican told her it would be five minutes.
“The engines just blew six hours ago,” the Captain told Raven, putting his hands on the console on the bridge. It was less than Raven had thought it would be, a small area five decks up as security cameras watched over the passenger areas. “We’ve kept them away from the damaged areas,” he continued. “We put on things to entertain and distract them but I think they know we’re getting too close to the planet. Some have noted the troubles with the engines and some have noted the thump of a tractor beam,” he continued, giving a wry grin to Raven that showed off his Raitchian teeth in their yellowed glory. The Champagne furred individual sighed. “Plus, of course, one or two had communits that picked up our distress call. Half our engineering team were taken out in the blast. I think they were trying to fix the power compressor…”
Raven moved around slightly, shifting her shoulders. “So, it’s not the…” She tried to recall the thing Katara and her team had talked about on the Loper. “The… uh… flow circuits?”
The Captain looked up at her. His tail twitched before he raised one hand up off the table. “I have no idea. I’m not an engineer.”
Januvitski decided that, from now on, her hair was going up in a bun as she noted a few strands on the console as she worked to draw power from everywhere she could to maintain the traction beam as the liner pushed the tolerances through the red line. She’d drawn power from astrometrics and sciences, closing down entire sections as she did so to counteract the drain on the power resources “Matny,” she called, dragging the attention of a Canine her way, “realign the power flow to bypass catering. Gets us about point zero five percent increase in gain.”
“Wilco, Chief,” he told her as she called Cedar to apprise him of the situation. He advised her that dinner would be late tonight then.
She shook her head. The priorities of a chef. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. She’d be thinking the same if she were him. She popped a Mint Imperial into her mouth and crunched it. The drain was still increasing as the liner sunk closer towards the gravity well. The computer, she mused, was being co-operative today. Thankfully.
Stikka worked his passage from the bridge engineering station, keeping the computer from fighting Januvitski’s operations by plugging himself into the system and keeping the autonomic systems busy and suppressed. He’d need a memory purge later on but, for now, the cyborg Racon was being useful in a way beyond anyone else.
Hawle looked at the ship on his screen and counted down the seconds and moments in quiet anxiety. They were losing the tug-of-war slowly but surely. He was running the numbers and estimated that, if they totally stuffed the ship, they could get five hundred off the liner at one go. Add in a teleport cycle of twenty minutes to get everyone off at the nearest habitable planet, which was an hour away at maximum speed, that meant they could do roughly two trips in the four hours they had. And there were almost five thousand tourists on that ship from the central worlds. He’d seen the manifest. Unless the called for back up arrived, he’d shortly have to start choosing who to save. Children first, he mused morosely. They took up less room so he could get more of them aboard. But how to choose the rest?
Dawton brought his quiet thoughts to an end. “Sir,” he called, “the Ronal’s on the line.”
“They’re five minutes out,” Match said and Hawle felt the universe lift from his shoulders as he instructed Dawton to put them on.
“Am I glad to see you,” Hawle told Lieutenant Parch, Senior Officer of the smaller ship as the silver and blue attired Mican looked back at him. “We need the assist.”
<“Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,”> Parch replied, leaning forward in his chair. He gave a half smile at Hawle’s considerably more liberal interpretation of th Uniform code. <“Heard you were a traditionalist, sir,”> he said respectfully. <“We’ll give you an assist soon as. The Calton’s about sixty minutes behind us. We’ll grab the tail.”>
“Appreciated,” Hawle replied before closing the line. He frowned. “Did he just intimate I’m old-fashioned?”
“I think the term is ‘classic’, sir,” Lieutenant Polva told him.
“Watch it, Chappers,” he replied, no malice in his tone. He tapped his comm. “Hawle to Katara.”
<“Katara here and busy, sir,”> the Celican replied.
“At least she’s calling me ‘sir’ now,” Hawle muttered, hand over his comm. “Just to advise you, the Ronal has arrived. How are things over there?”
<“Things aren’t exploding so they’re not as bad as the could be. It’s still pretty bad. Whoever did the last work on these engines was something of a jackarse. I wouldn’t trust them to run a replication machine, let alone a state of the art engine. If I didn’t know better I’d say the engine was designed to blow at some point.”>
“And, as you do know better?”
<“This engine was designed to blow at some point. Although, of course, I’d like not to say that officially. I couldn’t afford the slander charges.”>
“Slander? You? Never. Can you get them running again?”
<“It’ll take time. But yeah, now that the Ronal’s pitching in. Ah, heck.”>
Hawle frowned again. “What is it?”
<“I had Rawell checking the computer records. Sabotage is now confirmed. Someone set up the system to cause a power surge at a pre-determined time. Which means that not only was the blast premeditated...”>
“So was the location,” Hawle finished. “Do all you can, Chief. I have to check the manifest. Not just for who to save but who the target is.” He hung up the link.
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
I would say I hope Hawle knows what he is doing but he often does. Besides if he dies before Elena gets him down the aisle she will track him down in the afterlife and drag him back.
- Welsh Halfwit
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- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
6
Half an hour later, Hawle stepped down from the main teleport booth on the liner and held out a hand for Colleen, who took it before she stepped down. “I’m quite capable of stepping down by myself, Aldair,” the diplomat graced as she released the hand. The security officer stepped down as they waited for the senior steward. He bustled in and protested that there really must be a quieter way that they could do this.
“I’m afraid you’re best served by us being noisy,” Hawle replied as the ship lurched forward. “Gravity resisting the traction beams,” he explained for Colleen’s benefit. “This could happen again,” he explained to the steward, “unless we proceed. Would you like to lead on?”
“Uh, yes, yes,” the Mican granted, gesturing towards the passageway. “If you’ll come with me?”
“Best we do,” Hawle admitted, “as we don’t know the way.”
“You’re sure you should have come over in that uniform,” Colleen asked slyly.
“What’s wrong with my uniform?”
“Bandolier, gun belt, folded top boots with trousers tucked in. Your jacket and epaulettes… You look like a pirate is all I’m saying.”
“I smile! I joke! I have a council badge… that I’d better put on, I suppose.” He fished the ident from a pocket and put it on a lapel. “See? Council!”
“Oh, yes,” Colleen admitted sarcastically as she looked on the yellow and blue enamel symbol, “far less piratical.”
They walked into the main ballroom, where a show was being put on involving songs from the musicals. They were, Hawle assumed, doing their best to distract as many people as possible from their impending doom. The steward sought to lead them through the audience without disturbing most but Hawle pulled him up. “Remember,” he implored, “as much noise and disruption as possible. Raise the lights.”
Confused, the Steward did as bidden and the singing slowed and quietened to nothing as Hawle took up the comm. “My apologies,” he said loudly. “I’m Commander Hawle of the U.S.C. Loper. We hope not to disturb you for long but I needed the lights up so I don’t trip over people’s feet.” He closed the comm and followed the steward through the murmuring mass of guests who’d probably all paid as much as he earned in a year for the month long trip. They stopped at a table with a half dozen Celicans at it, three of whom started to rise from their seats. “Retired President Havakar of Celica IV,” he asked. “As I said, I am Commander Hawle of the Loper. This is Ambassador Colleen Una and Guard Deklan Sawberry.”
“I am,” the older Vixen of the group replied cautiously. “What do you want?” She gestured to the bodyguards that they should sit. “These are my protection and this is my daughter Sarafina.” A graceful young Vixen inclined her head.
“I’m afraid we need you to come with us, your honour,” Colleen stated. “There is an important matter we need to discuss in private.”
The Honourable Havakar lanced them with a look that appeared to be staring into their souls to look for duplicity. The ship shook again and she noted the look in Hawle’s eye. “There’s a conference room two doors down,” she told the steward. “Can the nine of us use it for a few moments?” He nodded quickly, so fast that at least one of the Celicans wondered if he was going to break his own neck. “Then escort us there,” she decreed, pushing herself up as two of the guards watched the ‘pirate’. The steward led the way and Hawle stopped to tell the auditorium they could now go back to their previously scheduled entertainment and turned the lights down too much.
They left the auditorium to muttered complaints as someone scrambled for the lights and Colleen leaned in. “How long have you wanted to say that,” she asked.
“Oh, several years now. It was a pity to interrupt the singer,” he admitted. “Best non Lappinean version of ‘Taconatta’ I’ve heard in years.”
“Are you sure you’re U.S.C. Officers,” Havakar asked sneerily as the steward worked out the code to open the door. “You don’t seem that professional to me.”
“I am totally serious about my job, Madame President,” Hawle announced, “just not totally serious about how I go about it.” They entered the room.
“You’re serious,” the Vixen demanded after Hawle and Una had laid out the situation for them. “It’s absurd. All this to get me?”
“You are a noted opponent of the current political structure on Celica,” Colleen counselled, “and your words are taken seriously as far away as Cana. You’re seen as one of the great political agitators – for good or ill, I might add.”
“Oh,” the President said, rolling her eyes, “you’re one of THAT Una family.” She chuckled. “I met Cova Una at one of the USC get together s some years back. Any relation?”
“My Father. Still serving. And I assure you,” she continued, “we have looked over the manifest and you are the only person we can think of that would make anyone go to this extent to silence you.”
“It makes sense, mum,” Sarafina remarked, startling Hawle with the gentleness of her voice. “Kill one and it’s an obvious hit. Kill five thousand and it can be an accident.”
“Exactly,” Hawle remarked. “That’s why we went loud in getting you out of there. It reduces the chance that someone will try again if they know you’re not here.”
“Do you have room for six Celicans on your ship?”
“No,” Hawle admitted. “But we do have room in guest quarters for three. You’ll also have a Council security detail and you’ll be present as we engage in an experiment that will knock anything you might have seen on this cruise into a cocked hat and throw it over a waterfall.”
Now the former president looked interested. Her ears flicked forward and her eyes widened slightly as scientific curiosity took over from annoyance and aggravation. Hawle had known she’d had a science background before going into politics “That’s quite a statement,” she told him. “Can you back it up, Rabbit?”
Hawle looked innocent and, resting his elbows on the table, spread his hands. “We’re picking up Professor Caltraya from Micanna,” he said, watching the twitch of her ears that indicated she knew who that was. “Then,” he continued, “we’re going to be helping him with his latest experiment. We’ll be trying to reignite a dead sun.”
She looked at them patiently. The room shook. She considered. Hawles comm cheeped. “You mind,” he asked.
She nodded and he took the call. “Really,” he said. “Welcome them in.”
“I’m not happy about leaving people in danger,” the President grunted as the ship notably shuddered and shook for several seconds.
“They’re not in danger now,” Hawle told her. “That was eight heavy duty traction beams taking hold of the ship. The Bellapharon has arrived.”
She grunted. “Now THAT,” she stated, thinking of the old explorer class ship, “I’d like to see. From your bridge?” She gave him a pointy-toothed smile.
“Absolutely,” Hawle said, hopping to his feet. “With the intent of not leaving a target, I’d suggest Miss Sarafina be one of the two that accompany you with some of your belongings? The others can stay here to watch over everything else.”
“For an idiot,” she allowed, “you’re an intelligent one.”
Hawle matched her sly look. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Half an hour later, Hawle stepped down from the main teleport booth on the liner and held out a hand for Colleen, who took it before she stepped down. “I’m quite capable of stepping down by myself, Aldair,” the diplomat graced as she released the hand. The security officer stepped down as they waited for the senior steward. He bustled in and protested that there really must be a quieter way that they could do this.
“I’m afraid you’re best served by us being noisy,” Hawle replied as the ship lurched forward. “Gravity resisting the traction beams,” he explained for Colleen’s benefit. “This could happen again,” he explained to the steward, “unless we proceed. Would you like to lead on?”
“Uh, yes, yes,” the Mican granted, gesturing towards the passageway. “If you’ll come with me?”
“Best we do,” Hawle admitted, “as we don’t know the way.”
“You’re sure you should have come over in that uniform,” Colleen asked slyly.
“What’s wrong with my uniform?”
“Bandolier, gun belt, folded top boots with trousers tucked in. Your jacket and epaulettes… You look like a pirate is all I’m saying.”
“I smile! I joke! I have a council badge… that I’d better put on, I suppose.” He fished the ident from a pocket and put it on a lapel. “See? Council!”
“Oh, yes,” Colleen admitted sarcastically as she looked on the yellow and blue enamel symbol, “far less piratical.”
They walked into the main ballroom, where a show was being put on involving songs from the musicals. They were, Hawle assumed, doing their best to distract as many people as possible from their impending doom. The steward sought to lead them through the audience without disturbing most but Hawle pulled him up. “Remember,” he implored, “as much noise and disruption as possible. Raise the lights.”
Confused, the Steward did as bidden and the singing slowed and quietened to nothing as Hawle took up the comm. “My apologies,” he said loudly. “I’m Commander Hawle of the U.S.C. Loper. We hope not to disturb you for long but I needed the lights up so I don’t trip over people’s feet.” He closed the comm and followed the steward through the murmuring mass of guests who’d probably all paid as much as he earned in a year for the month long trip. They stopped at a table with a half dozen Celicans at it, three of whom started to rise from their seats. “Retired President Havakar of Celica IV,” he asked. “As I said, I am Commander Hawle of the Loper. This is Ambassador Colleen Una and Guard Deklan Sawberry.”
“I am,” the older Vixen of the group replied cautiously. “What do you want?” She gestured to the bodyguards that they should sit. “These are my protection and this is my daughter Sarafina.” A graceful young Vixen inclined her head.
“I’m afraid we need you to come with us, your honour,” Colleen stated. “There is an important matter we need to discuss in private.”
The Honourable Havakar lanced them with a look that appeared to be staring into their souls to look for duplicity. The ship shook again and she noted the look in Hawle’s eye. “There’s a conference room two doors down,” she told the steward. “Can the nine of us use it for a few moments?” He nodded quickly, so fast that at least one of the Celicans wondered if he was going to break his own neck. “Then escort us there,” she decreed, pushing herself up as two of the guards watched the ‘pirate’. The steward led the way and Hawle stopped to tell the auditorium they could now go back to their previously scheduled entertainment and turned the lights down too much.
They left the auditorium to muttered complaints as someone scrambled for the lights and Colleen leaned in. “How long have you wanted to say that,” she asked.
“Oh, several years now. It was a pity to interrupt the singer,” he admitted. “Best non Lappinean version of ‘Taconatta’ I’ve heard in years.”
“Are you sure you’re U.S.C. Officers,” Havakar asked sneerily as the steward worked out the code to open the door. “You don’t seem that professional to me.”
“I am totally serious about my job, Madame President,” Hawle announced, “just not totally serious about how I go about it.” They entered the room.
“You’re serious,” the Vixen demanded after Hawle and Una had laid out the situation for them. “It’s absurd. All this to get me?”
“You are a noted opponent of the current political structure on Celica,” Colleen counselled, “and your words are taken seriously as far away as Cana. You’re seen as one of the great political agitators – for good or ill, I might add.”
“Oh,” the President said, rolling her eyes, “you’re one of THAT Una family.” She chuckled. “I met Cova Una at one of the USC get together s some years back. Any relation?”
“My Father. Still serving. And I assure you,” she continued, “we have looked over the manifest and you are the only person we can think of that would make anyone go to this extent to silence you.”
“It makes sense, mum,” Sarafina remarked, startling Hawle with the gentleness of her voice. “Kill one and it’s an obvious hit. Kill five thousand and it can be an accident.”
“Exactly,” Hawle remarked. “That’s why we went loud in getting you out of there. It reduces the chance that someone will try again if they know you’re not here.”
“Do you have room for six Celicans on your ship?”
“No,” Hawle admitted. “But we do have room in guest quarters for three. You’ll also have a Council security detail and you’ll be present as we engage in an experiment that will knock anything you might have seen on this cruise into a cocked hat and throw it over a waterfall.”
Now the former president looked interested. Her ears flicked forward and her eyes widened slightly as scientific curiosity took over from annoyance and aggravation. Hawle had known she’d had a science background before going into politics “That’s quite a statement,” she told him. “Can you back it up, Rabbit?”
Hawle looked innocent and, resting his elbows on the table, spread his hands. “We’re picking up Professor Caltraya from Micanna,” he said, watching the twitch of her ears that indicated she knew who that was. “Then,” he continued, “we’re going to be helping him with his latest experiment. We’ll be trying to reignite a dead sun.”
She looked at them patiently. The room shook. She considered. Hawles comm cheeped. “You mind,” he asked.
She nodded and he took the call. “Really,” he said. “Welcome them in.”
“I’m not happy about leaving people in danger,” the President grunted as the ship notably shuddered and shook for several seconds.
“They’re not in danger now,” Hawle told her. “That was eight heavy duty traction beams taking hold of the ship. The Bellapharon has arrived.”
She grunted. “Now THAT,” she stated, thinking of the old explorer class ship, “I’d like to see. From your bridge?” She gave him a pointy-toothed smile.
“Absolutely,” Hawle said, hopping to his feet. “With the intent of not leaving a target, I’d suggest Miss Sarafina be one of the two that accompany you with some of your belongings? The others can stay here to watch over everything else.”
“For an idiot,” she allowed, “you’re an intelligent one.”
Hawle matched her sly look. “Thank you, ma’am.”
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Hey Hawle isn't actually an idiot like what seems to be implied here at all! He knows what makes his fiancee happy and does it and...oh that isn't a very good example to use. Oops.
But still, really great chapter!
![Embarrassed :oops:](./images/smilies/icon_redface.gif)
But still, really great chapter!
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
7
“Good evening, old friend,” Hawle said, talking to the Osiran in his meeting room as the lizardman took a sip of the water, his throat bulging and the scales separating and coming back together as he swallowed. “How’s things?”
The older Lieutenant Commander put the glass down and replied that things were fine but he really wasn’t sure he appreciated his old ship being used as a tourist trap. “I’ve got one small flight of Mark Seven Starlancers,” he said and Aldair noted he must have had his translator updated. The old ones had trouble with the sibilance of Osiran language but it seemed he was talking with single ‘s’s now. “The other is a gift shop now. I take groups of tourists around the bridge and quarters. It’s humiliating at times.”
Hawle pointed a finger. “But I’ve heard at least a dozen junior Officers and enrolled say that the Bellaphron was an important factor in them joining up, Hal. The ship’s an icon. The tales of the crew legend. There are going to be Captains because of you, one day.”
The lips of the Osiran cracked slightly and a forked tongue flicked from between sharp teeth. “Been rehearsing that, Aldair Hawle?”
Hawle stood up and walked around the table. “Every time I’ve thought it needed, Gar Halriss.” He gave the taller creature a friendly hug, which the cold blood reciprocated.
“It’s good to see you too, Aldair,” he said, before stepping back and sitting down. “So, how’s Elena?”
“Oh,” Hawle replied, stepping over to straighten a picture on the wall that didn’t need straightening. “She’s perfect as always,” he admitted, talking over his shoulder before heading back to the table. “Still doing everything for her constituents and hoping for a higher cabinet post and changing the colonial legislation so she might make president. Engaged to a mad Lappinean. Looking forward to our holiday next month…” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “Of course, you know most of this as you’re on her Galnet friends update page.”
“It’s always best to hear it from the Equinna’s mouth, as some Humans say.” Hawle checked his teeth and Halriss laughed. “You’re the only officer can do that regularly, Aldair. So, you want us to take the liner in tow whilst you go about your ‘secret’ mission?”
“Yes, I… Who told you about our mission?”
Halriss shrugged his slight shoulders. “Sarina told me.”
“I’ll have to have a word with her,” he mock threatened. “That’s supposed to be need to know only outside the ship.”
“You told the President,” Halriss pointed out.
“Well, she was a scientist. I needed something to tip her over the edge to leave that liner so it’s safe.”
“And her daughter.”
“It’s not like her mother would have left her there,” Hawle protested.
“And her bodyguards, hmm,” Halriss intimated.
Hawle was at a loss for words for a moment before replying “do you think they were listening,” and trying to hold his face. Halriss stared and both of them collapsed into laughter.
Katara, grubbed up and exhausted after her duties on the liner, looked down at the Raitchian in the bed and sighed lightly. “How’s he doing, Doc,” she asked.
“Well,” Night ventured, peeling off her disposable gloves and incinerating them, “I had to do invasive procedures to replace his lungs and some of his throat so he’ll never be quite as he was but his eyes will recover and he should be able to go back…”
“They don’t want him back,” Katara snapped. “He’s been invalided due to the chance of retinal damage and their insurance doesn’t run to invalided staff!” She thumped the bulkhead. “Why would someone work for a company like that?”
“Sometimes there’s no choice,” Night replied. Setting aside the padd she was holding. “Raitche isn’t easy on the finances at the best of times. So they take jobs like this to earn funds. To support families and gain experience. The company can buy or sell them without penalty so, sometimes, this happens. Bazil tells me the best mechanics go into the Raitchian navy because it pays the insurances at top dollar.”
“My disgust for Raitchian priorities grows with every encounter!”
“G...good,” the Raitchian on the bed struggled to say, “to...know…”
“If they can just let…” Katara’s ears flipped as she worked out the voice was speaking to her, through a painful rasp and closed eyes. Her expression changed as she took the male’s hand and Doctor Barleycorn hurried over to check his vitals. “I didn’t mean you,” she said, compassion mixing with her curt directness. “You did a heck of a job. You stopped that thing from blowing back into the passenger section and almost paid for it with your life. If it were up to me, I’d have you up for a medal.”
“X...comforting. Why… <kaff> do I s...sound li...like a Razilla fl...flute?”
“We had to replace your lungs,” Barleycorn reported, checking his throat. “How does this feel?”
“Like… Like my th...throat’s on fire. Why can’t… I open… my eyes?”
“They’re repairing themselves,” Night assured him. “They need to stay closed.”
“It’ll be worse,” Katara assured him, rubbing the back of his hand, “You’re currently up to your ear tips on painkillers.”
“Enough from you, Kat,” Night said. “He needs to rest.”
The Mican snapped awake and almost wrenched his neck as he returned to full alertness. He rubbed the back of it as the old Celican chuckled grimly. “Nice to have my bodyguard awake,” he commented as Detective Brunton looked around for any assailants in the freezing spaceport.
The heated blanket lay at his feet now as he calmed, reasoning that the sound that had brought him back to full thunder and thought was the Professor walking on some of the metal plates on the floor. “Sorry, Professor,” he said lamely before shivering. “By the rivers of Haverat, it’s cold.”
“Hmm,” the Professor remarked. “It’s too cold for an old bones like me to sleep. Plus, us both being out like a Hibernian Malisk wouldn’t leave much security, hmm? Even if she is in a stasis field.”
Brunton yawned. “Any word from the Loper?”
“Yes. They’ll be here in four hours. The panic is over. Well, THIS panic anyhow.” He laughed. “We’re back on track for the history books!”
“Good evening, old friend,” Hawle said, talking to the Osiran in his meeting room as the lizardman took a sip of the water, his throat bulging and the scales separating and coming back together as he swallowed. “How’s things?”
The older Lieutenant Commander put the glass down and replied that things were fine but he really wasn’t sure he appreciated his old ship being used as a tourist trap. “I’ve got one small flight of Mark Seven Starlancers,” he said and Aldair noted he must have had his translator updated. The old ones had trouble with the sibilance of Osiran language but it seemed he was talking with single ‘s’s now. “The other is a gift shop now. I take groups of tourists around the bridge and quarters. It’s humiliating at times.”
Hawle pointed a finger. “But I’ve heard at least a dozen junior Officers and enrolled say that the Bellaphron was an important factor in them joining up, Hal. The ship’s an icon. The tales of the crew legend. There are going to be Captains because of you, one day.”
The lips of the Osiran cracked slightly and a forked tongue flicked from between sharp teeth. “Been rehearsing that, Aldair Hawle?”
Hawle stood up and walked around the table. “Every time I’ve thought it needed, Gar Halriss.” He gave the taller creature a friendly hug, which the cold blood reciprocated.
“It’s good to see you too, Aldair,” he said, before stepping back and sitting down. “So, how’s Elena?”
“Oh,” Hawle replied, stepping over to straighten a picture on the wall that didn’t need straightening. “She’s perfect as always,” he admitted, talking over his shoulder before heading back to the table. “Still doing everything for her constituents and hoping for a higher cabinet post and changing the colonial legislation so she might make president. Engaged to a mad Lappinean. Looking forward to our holiday next month…” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “Of course, you know most of this as you’re on her Galnet friends update page.”
“It’s always best to hear it from the Equinna’s mouth, as some Humans say.” Hawle checked his teeth and Halriss laughed. “You’re the only officer can do that regularly, Aldair. So, you want us to take the liner in tow whilst you go about your ‘secret’ mission?”
“Yes, I… Who told you about our mission?”
Halriss shrugged his slight shoulders. “Sarina told me.”
“I’ll have to have a word with her,” he mock threatened. “That’s supposed to be need to know only outside the ship.”
“You told the President,” Halriss pointed out.
“Well, she was a scientist. I needed something to tip her over the edge to leave that liner so it’s safe.”
“And her daughter.”
“It’s not like her mother would have left her there,” Hawle protested.
“And her bodyguards, hmm,” Halriss intimated.
Hawle was at a loss for words for a moment before replying “do you think they were listening,” and trying to hold his face. Halriss stared and both of them collapsed into laughter.
Katara, grubbed up and exhausted after her duties on the liner, looked down at the Raitchian in the bed and sighed lightly. “How’s he doing, Doc,” she asked.
“Well,” Night ventured, peeling off her disposable gloves and incinerating them, “I had to do invasive procedures to replace his lungs and some of his throat so he’ll never be quite as he was but his eyes will recover and he should be able to go back…”
“They don’t want him back,” Katara snapped. “He’s been invalided due to the chance of retinal damage and their insurance doesn’t run to invalided staff!” She thumped the bulkhead. “Why would someone work for a company like that?”
“Sometimes there’s no choice,” Night replied. Setting aside the padd she was holding. “Raitche isn’t easy on the finances at the best of times. So they take jobs like this to earn funds. To support families and gain experience. The company can buy or sell them without penalty so, sometimes, this happens. Bazil tells me the best mechanics go into the Raitchian navy because it pays the insurances at top dollar.”
“My disgust for Raitchian priorities grows with every encounter!”
“G...good,” the Raitchian on the bed struggled to say, “to...know…”
“If they can just let…” Katara’s ears flipped as she worked out the voice was speaking to her, through a painful rasp and closed eyes. Her expression changed as she took the male’s hand and Doctor Barleycorn hurried over to check his vitals. “I didn’t mean you,” she said, compassion mixing with her curt directness. “You did a heck of a job. You stopped that thing from blowing back into the passenger section and almost paid for it with your life. If it were up to me, I’d have you up for a medal.”
“X...comforting. Why… <kaff> do I s...sound li...like a Razilla fl...flute?”
“We had to replace your lungs,” Barleycorn reported, checking his throat. “How does this feel?”
“Like… Like my th...throat’s on fire. Why can’t… I open… my eyes?”
“They’re repairing themselves,” Night assured him. “They need to stay closed.”
“It’ll be worse,” Katara assured him, rubbing the back of his hand, “You’re currently up to your ear tips on painkillers.”
“Enough from you, Kat,” Night said. “He needs to rest.”
The Mican snapped awake and almost wrenched his neck as he returned to full alertness. He rubbed the back of it as the old Celican chuckled grimly. “Nice to have my bodyguard awake,” he commented as Detective Brunton looked around for any assailants in the freezing spaceport.
The heated blanket lay at his feet now as he calmed, reasoning that the sound that had brought him back to full thunder and thought was the Professor walking on some of the metal plates on the floor. “Sorry, Professor,” he said lamely before shivering. “By the rivers of Haverat, it’s cold.”
“Hmm,” the Professor remarked. “It’s too cold for an old bones like me to sleep. Plus, us both being out like a Hibernian Malisk wouldn’t leave much security, hmm? Even if she is in a stasis field.”
Brunton yawned. “Any word from the Loper?”
“Yes. They’ll be here in four hours. The panic is over. Well, THIS panic anyhow.” He laughed. “We’re back on track for the history books!”
- Amazee Dayzee
- Posts: 25985
- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
The Loper always makes things very interesting and really fun! It might be terrifying but in the end everything always turns out OK in the end. Hawle does like to live on the edge. ![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
- Welsh Halfwit
- Posts: 14141
- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
8
Aldair stepped onto the bridge on his small scale tour of the ship with President Havakar and her daughter. This wasn’t quite the final stop as they’d taken the entourage before they’d managed to have food on the liner so the last place to visit was Kirkwall’s kitchen. The Mican chef was currently going berserk, cooking up a small scale Celican feast as quickly as he could without compromising on quality. The bridge crew were ready for this and were going about their business quietly and professionally as Sarina Raven asked Match for scans of…
“...and here we enter the bridge,” Hawle said, stepping forward and letting the Celicans out. “Where Commander Sarina Raven has been watching over my station.”
“It’s a type 47 uplift isn’t it,” Havakar queried, recalling the technical manuals.
“Type 46,” Stikka replied from the second officers seat, making all turn towards him so that only Stikka could see the faces and gestures Hawle was making at him about correcting a president. “Although the differences are only minor. A few differences in console layout.”
“Enough soft soaping me, Lieutenant,” the old Celican remarked with humour. “I know my tech knowledge is a little out of date.”
“The main feature of this ship is the speed,” Hawle continued. If Sarahs’ ears could have twitched, they would have at that prearranged word. It gave her an indication as to what was coming next. “We’ve recently had an upgrade that means we can hit velocity five for three hours at a time. We haven’t had a chance to safely test them yet but, if you wish to give the command, Madame President?”
“I shall not,” Havakar replied imperiously, slightly stunning Hawle, who’d not expected this turn of events. She turned a hand to her daughter. “Sarafina is the one pondering entering Command School. If you will permit her?”
Hawle nodded slightly. “That is eminently acceptable. The Lieutenant on the helm is Lieutenant Polva. So, if you ask her to head for Micanna at best speed?”
“O.K.,” Sarafina said, a little uncertainly. Before composing herself. The bridge seemed to fall silent. She glanced around nervously as the seconds dragged themselves out. “Um… Maximum speed please, Lieutenant Polva?”
“Aye, sir, ma’am,” Sarah responded, moving the ship up to the velocity where they could begin to feel the vibrations in the plates below their feet as Sarafina did a little ‘heehee’ jig. Until she saw her mother looking at her and stopped.
“You have a good staff,” Havakar stated as they ate in Kirkwall’s canteen. “And the food is certainly better than most military ships… What was that,” she asked as there was a clattering form the kitchen.
“Oh, probably Cedar fainting as you compliment his cooking,” Aldair replied, before the guard went to check on him. “I believe you were going to ask something?”
“Your helm officer. Isn’t Polva a canine name? I’ve never heard of a Human with that name.”
“She’s married to a Russelian,” Hawle informed her.
“And expecting his child,” Havakar finished. “I must say, I’m not exactly a supporter of Hybrids and crossbreeds,” she continued, before taking another bite of her food. “It’s a purity of bloodline thing. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do.” Hawle replied. “I’m engaged to a Pekan. Half my family has disowned me.”
Sensing she’d stepped verbally into the location of beartraps the President backpedalled somewhat. “I’d never go that far.” She put the fork down. “I’ve been let down and disappointed by mixed heritage peoples on several occasions.”
“She has trouble reading them,” Sarafina chipped in.
Her mother glared at her but continued. “It’s true to an extent. The body language is different. You get used to how a feline’s tail swipes when they’re angry, not happy and you note that. Then one who’s father is a Brockian appears and the swish can mean either, both or neither. I can get along with them but, if I have to work with them, I need to trust them and how can I trust them if I can’t read them?”
Hawle kept several unpolitic thoughts to himself. “I hope you’ll have an answer to that from just being around that, Madame President. There are several crossbreeds on board and one who’s the son of two crossbreeds.” He saw the surprise in Sarafina’s eye. “Oh, yes. Science was able to strip out the genetics of two of the species to help the genetic bond in the embryo and then it was put into the mother to carry to term. He’s seventeen now. The Council sets a lot of pride in the species,” Hawle finished, “but we also have a lot of pride in how the species unite to make us stronger going forward.”
“Mmm. It’s better than back,” Havakar agreed. Sarafina seconded that.
“So, she’s a bigot,” Una advised Cedar as he cleaned his knives for reuse. “Many of the best leaders are, at least somewhat. Their pride leads to their dignity which gives them authority.”
“Only for now,” Cedar replied, putting the blades in a block before joining his best friend with some beef teas. “Her Daughter didn’t approve much.”
He put the teas down and sat. “Celicans have always had this thing about purity,” she said, elegantly lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip of the broth. “Especially on their own colonies. The blood of the hunting instinct is powerful. It’s why ones like Groal and Katara leave, even if they don’t actually know it – and would harm you if you told them, Cedar,” she added in warning.
“It’s hard to imagine such a thing in this day and age,” Cedar grumbled.
“It’s hard to imagine we’ll ever be without it,” Una countered. “But it’s not our job to fight it,” she added, taking his hand with her free one and squeezing it. “It’s our job to just be ourselves and allow her experience to fight the prejudice for us. We only get actively involved if our friends are attacked.” She grinned wickedly. “Even then, we do it politically. But let’s hope we don’t need to, eh?”
“Yeah.” He cringed comically. “because she’d cream us.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?”
As scheduled, the Loper arrived at Micanna.
Aldair stepped onto the bridge on his small scale tour of the ship with President Havakar and her daughter. This wasn’t quite the final stop as they’d taken the entourage before they’d managed to have food on the liner so the last place to visit was Kirkwall’s kitchen. The Mican chef was currently going berserk, cooking up a small scale Celican feast as quickly as he could without compromising on quality. The bridge crew were ready for this and were going about their business quietly and professionally as Sarina Raven asked Match for scans of…
“...and here we enter the bridge,” Hawle said, stepping forward and letting the Celicans out. “Where Commander Sarina Raven has been watching over my station.”
“It’s a type 47 uplift isn’t it,” Havakar queried, recalling the technical manuals.
“Type 46,” Stikka replied from the second officers seat, making all turn towards him so that only Stikka could see the faces and gestures Hawle was making at him about correcting a president. “Although the differences are only minor. A few differences in console layout.”
“Enough soft soaping me, Lieutenant,” the old Celican remarked with humour. “I know my tech knowledge is a little out of date.”
“The main feature of this ship is the speed,” Hawle continued. If Sarahs’ ears could have twitched, they would have at that prearranged word. It gave her an indication as to what was coming next. “We’ve recently had an upgrade that means we can hit velocity five for three hours at a time. We haven’t had a chance to safely test them yet but, if you wish to give the command, Madame President?”
“I shall not,” Havakar replied imperiously, slightly stunning Hawle, who’d not expected this turn of events. She turned a hand to her daughter. “Sarafina is the one pondering entering Command School. If you will permit her?”
Hawle nodded slightly. “That is eminently acceptable. The Lieutenant on the helm is Lieutenant Polva. So, if you ask her to head for Micanna at best speed?”
“O.K.,” Sarafina said, a little uncertainly. Before composing herself. The bridge seemed to fall silent. She glanced around nervously as the seconds dragged themselves out. “Um… Maximum speed please, Lieutenant Polva?”
“Aye, sir, ma’am,” Sarah responded, moving the ship up to the velocity where they could begin to feel the vibrations in the plates below their feet as Sarafina did a little ‘heehee’ jig. Until she saw her mother looking at her and stopped.
“You have a good staff,” Havakar stated as they ate in Kirkwall’s canteen. “And the food is certainly better than most military ships… What was that,” she asked as there was a clattering form the kitchen.
“Oh, probably Cedar fainting as you compliment his cooking,” Aldair replied, before the guard went to check on him. “I believe you were going to ask something?”
“Your helm officer. Isn’t Polva a canine name? I’ve never heard of a Human with that name.”
“She’s married to a Russelian,” Hawle informed her.
“And expecting his child,” Havakar finished. “I must say, I’m not exactly a supporter of Hybrids and crossbreeds,” she continued, before taking another bite of her food. “It’s a purity of bloodline thing. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do.” Hawle replied. “I’m engaged to a Pekan. Half my family has disowned me.”
Sensing she’d stepped verbally into the location of beartraps the President backpedalled somewhat. “I’d never go that far.” She put the fork down. “I’ve been let down and disappointed by mixed heritage peoples on several occasions.”
“She has trouble reading them,” Sarafina chipped in.
Her mother glared at her but continued. “It’s true to an extent. The body language is different. You get used to how a feline’s tail swipes when they’re angry, not happy and you note that. Then one who’s father is a Brockian appears and the swish can mean either, both or neither. I can get along with them but, if I have to work with them, I need to trust them and how can I trust them if I can’t read them?”
Hawle kept several unpolitic thoughts to himself. “I hope you’ll have an answer to that from just being around that, Madame President. There are several crossbreeds on board and one who’s the son of two crossbreeds.” He saw the surprise in Sarafina’s eye. “Oh, yes. Science was able to strip out the genetics of two of the species to help the genetic bond in the embryo and then it was put into the mother to carry to term. He’s seventeen now. The Council sets a lot of pride in the species,” Hawle finished, “but we also have a lot of pride in how the species unite to make us stronger going forward.”
“Mmm. It’s better than back,” Havakar agreed. Sarafina seconded that.
“So, she’s a bigot,” Una advised Cedar as he cleaned his knives for reuse. “Many of the best leaders are, at least somewhat. Their pride leads to their dignity which gives them authority.”
“Only for now,” Cedar replied, putting the blades in a block before joining his best friend with some beef teas. “Her Daughter didn’t approve much.”
He put the teas down and sat. “Celicans have always had this thing about purity,” she said, elegantly lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip of the broth. “Especially on their own colonies. The blood of the hunting instinct is powerful. It’s why ones like Groal and Katara leave, even if they don’t actually know it – and would harm you if you told them, Cedar,” she added in warning.
“It’s hard to imagine such a thing in this day and age,” Cedar grumbled.
“It’s hard to imagine we’ll ever be without it,” Una countered. “But it’s not our job to fight it,” she added, taking his hand with her free one and squeezing it. “It’s our job to just be ourselves and allow her experience to fight the prejudice for us. We only get actively involved if our friends are attacked.” She grinned wickedly. “Even then, we do it politically. But let’s hope we don’t need to, eh?”
“Yeah.” He cringed comically. “because she’d cream us.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?”
As scheduled, the Loper arrived at Micanna.
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Good think that Elena wasn't around Havakar then and heard her say all of that. She is not one that keeps her opinions to herself.
- Harry Johnathan
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- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2020 12:10 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Neither am I!
![Very Happy :D](./images/smilies/icon_e_biggrin.gif)
Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But [The LORD] said, “Yes, you did laugh.” - Genesis 18:15 (NIV).
- Amazee Dayzee
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- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
If people knew what Elena gets enjoyment over her fiancee getting covered in goop like a Nickelodeon game show I doubt she would still be a councilor. Then again, I am pretty sure all of Hawle's crew knows but they are all weirdoes anyway.
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
9
Sarina Raven checked over the ‘supplies’ they were taking on board on Micanna, the main shuttle idling by some fifty feet away to her left as she made sure the stasis lock was still in place and hadn’t been tampered with. The Professor had assured her that everything was correct and sorted and he was getting a bit insulted that she wasn’t taking his word for it. “I can’t afford to, Professor,” she replied. “Things that are tickety-boo and can’t possibly go wrong have been known to go wrong and be more tickety-boom before. Remember the Icolas?”
The Professor demurred. He’d heard the story of that ship once or twice or twenty times in the last few months. “Yes, I suppose you have your reasons, Commander. But I am anxious to be on our way. The delay is already extreme.”
“I get that,” she said, “I’ll be sure to send a message to the five thousand people on the liner that your time is more important than their lives.”
“That’s not what I meant! I…” The Professor steamed until Brunton put a hand on his arm and he looked down at the detective before snorting a parting into his headfur. “I apologise, Commander. This is the culmination of my life’s work and I am impatient to see if it has been a waste of time or a celebration.”
“Understood, Professor, and accepted,” Raven said dismissively. The Burman stepped back and pressed the ‘approved’ button on her datapad before the technicians with the hover truck moved the device from where it sat over to the shuttle. “Are you bringing any luggage?”
“Are you going to have to check it?”
“The scanner’s over there,” she stated, waving her arm towards an oblong shaped lump of metal. “That says all’s OK, then all’s OK.” He indicated a pair of heavy cases that Sarina took over to the machine. The Professor made a mental note not to annoy the powerful Feline as Brunton brought his sports bag with him.
“So,” Bazil asked Night’s patient, “what’s your name?”
“Is… Isn’t it… on my file, Doctor?”
“Possibly,” Bazil asked playfully. “I just always prefer to hear it from the Raitchian’s mouth.”
“If… if you want… to hear if it’s a lie,” he gasped, “you’ll.. have… have to wait a few… weeks. Donnika Parsons,” he managed, before needing a sip of the concoction Night had left by his bed. It had to be doing him good, he supposed. It tasted horrible.
“Doctor Bazil Fuze,” Bazil told him. “You’ve made quite an impact, Don,” he told him. “Chief Engineer Katara doesn’t do impressed very often but she’s impressed with you.”
He leaned back in his bed and considered putting the mask back on to sleep. “Oh, to… impress a Celican,” he wheezed, before taking the mask.
The Russellian technician stepped into his married quarters after several hours of maintenance work and sagged as he took his jacket off and removed the undershirt to let his fur feel the air. He breathed out and hung the jacket up, leaving the shirt over the back of the setee before removing his boots and splaying his toes. He sagged over to the replication machine and ordered himself a tea.
“I’ll ‘ave one too,” said the voice that brightened so many of his days and perked up more than his ears. He stepped away from the machine to kiss his wife hello and she responded in similar fashion. “That’s not a tea,” she told him teasingly, tapping his nose.
“I didn’t think you were off duty yet,” he said before softly licking her neck.
“I’m not,” she replied, holding his head there for a few more seconds as he tasted her. She felt his hand on top of her womb and closed her eyes in happiness. “I’m on lunch. I knew your shift had finished and I wanted to hear you talking about work and your colleagues.” She smiled as he pulled back to look at her, almost touching mouths again. “It’s true,” she admitted. “I want to hear about Vatrick and his problems with cabling, what Marius thinks of the latest films and about Darraby expecting again.” She put a hand to the side of his muzzle. He licked it. “I’m going to have to work with her,” Sarah added, wiping her hand on his nose before uncoupling and removing her jacket to hang it up.
“I never thought you listened to my tales,” Edelmar told her, fixing her drink and some food that Night had told them was good for cross species foetuses. He sat down and noted Sarah had left the bottom half of her torso free from fabric. He appreciated it as she sat next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Really,” she said. “Must be how you tell the tale,” she told him. “Helps me sleep.”
“Yup,” he agreed, “I am a first class sedative.”
As she ate, he told her about his day.
“So,” Hawle told his comm, “we made a diversion on this trip, sweetie, before it’s even begun. We helped save several thousand lives – although it was mostly Katara and her skills and the traction beams of several ships in conjunction with ours – but it’s made me think to send you this message, even though I’m just talking to your messaging system due to it being 0200 on Cora II and you’re safe in bed and I arranged to put this through to your messaging service so it wouldn’t wake you up.” He chuckled. “I’m still not allowed to tell you anything about this mission and our comm system is programmed to purge any attempt. All I can say is that I know you’d be impressed by the scale…” He stopped as his comm system beeped at him. “Pause recording. What,” he asked the computer. It told him he was beginning to breach parameters. “What, I can’t even tell Elena that she’d be impressed? Wow. I didn’t know a system could get paranoid. OK. Delete the last line and resume.” He waited and replayed the message to make sure before launching back in with “apparently I can’t tell you you’d be impressed as that would ding security, that’s how tight this is.” He smirked as the computer didn’t ding him.
As the shuttle lifted off, a Mican figure stepped into the shadows at the back of the bay and spoke into a comm he’d not seen fit to show whilst the others had been there. “Yeah,” he told an unknown associate, “the Professor’s on his way with the MacGuffin.”
Sarina Raven checked over the ‘supplies’ they were taking on board on Micanna, the main shuttle idling by some fifty feet away to her left as she made sure the stasis lock was still in place and hadn’t been tampered with. The Professor had assured her that everything was correct and sorted and he was getting a bit insulted that she wasn’t taking his word for it. “I can’t afford to, Professor,” she replied. “Things that are tickety-boo and can’t possibly go wrong have been known to go wrong and be more tickety-boom before. Remember the Icolas?”
The Professor demurred. He’d heard the story of that ship once or twice or twenty times in the last few months. “Yes, I suppose you have your reasons, Commander. But I am anxious to be on our way. The delay is already extreme.”
“I get that,” she said, “I’ll be sure to send a message to the five thousand people on the liner that your time is more important than their lives.”
“That’s not what I meant! I…” The Professor steamed until Brunton put a hand on his arm and he looked down at the detective before snorting a parting into his headfur. “I apologise, Commander. This is the culmination of my life’s work and I am impatient to see if it has been a waste of time or a celebration.”
“Understood, Professor, and accepted,” Raven said dismissively. The Burman stepped back and pressed the ‘approved’ button on her datapad before the technicians with the hover truck moved the device from where it sat over to the shuttle. “Are you bringing any luggage?”
“Are you going to have to check it?”
“The scanner’s over there,” she stated, waving her arm towards an oblong shaped lump of metal. “That says all’s OK, then all’s OK.” He indicated a pair of heavy cases that Sarina took over to the machine. The Professor made a mental note not to annoy the powerful Feline as Brunton brought his sports bag with him.
“So,” Bazil asked Night’s patient, “what’s your name?”
“Is… Isn’t it… on my file, Doctor?”
“Possibly,” Bazil asked playfully. “I just always prefer to hear it from the Raitchian’s mouth.”
“If… if you want… to hear if it’s a lie,” he gasped, “you’ll.. have… have to wait a few… weeks. Donnika Parsons,” he managed, before needing a sip of the concoction Night had left by his bed. It had to be doing him good, he supposed. It tasted horrible.
“Doctor Bazil Fuze,” Bazil told him. “You’ve made quite an impact, Don,” he told him. “Chief Engineer Katara doesn’t do impressed very often but she’s impressed with you.”
He leaned back in his bed and considered putting the mask back on to sleep. “Oh, to… impress a Celican,” he wheezed, before taking the mask.
The Russellian technician stepped into his married quarters after several hours of maintenance work and sagged as he took his jacket off and removed the undershirt to let his fur feel the air. He breathed out and hung the jacket up, leaving the shirt over the back of the setee before removing his boots and splaying his toes. He sagged over to the replication machine and ordered himself a tea.
“I’ll ‘ave one too,” said the voice that brightened so many of his days and perked up more than his ears. He stepped away from the machine to kiss his wife hello and she responded in similar fashion. “That’s not a tea,” she told him teasingly, tapping his nose.
“I didn’t think you were off duty yet,” he said before softly licking her neck.
“I’m not,” she replied, holding his head there for a few more seconds as he tasted her. She felt his hand on top of her womb and closed her eyes in happiness. “I’m on lunch. I knew your shift had finished and I wanted to hear you talking about work and your colleagues.” She smiled as he pulled back to look at her, almost touching mouths again. “It’s true,” she admitted. “I want to hear about Vatrick and his problems with cabling, what Marius thinks of the latest films and about Darraby expecting again.” She put a hand to the side of his muzzle. He licked it. “I’m going to have to work with her,” Sarah added, wiping her hand on his nose before uncoupling and removing her jacket to hang it up.
“I never thought you listened to my tales,” Edelmar told her, fixing her drink and some food that Night had told them was good for cross species foetuses. He sat down and noted Sarah had left the bottom half of her torso free from fabric. He appreciated it as she sat next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Really,” she said. “Must be how you tell the tale,” she told him. “Helps me sleep.”
“Yup,” he agreed, “I am a first class sedative.”
As she ate, he told her about his day.
“So,” Hawle told his comm, “we made a diversion on this trip, sweetie, before it’s even begun. We helped save several thousand lives – although it was mostly Katara and her skills and the traction beams of several ships in conjunction with ours – but it’s made me think to send you this message, even though I’m just talking to your messaging system due to it being 0200 on Cora II and you’re safe in bed and I arranged to put this through to your messaging service so it wouldn’t wake you up.” He chuckled. “I’m still not allowed to tell you anything about this mission and our comm system is programmed to purge any attempt. All I can say is that I know you’d be impressed by the scale…” He stopped as his comm system beeped at him. “Pause recording. What,” he asked the computer. It told him he was beginning to breach parameters. “What, I can’t even tell Elena that she’d be impressed? Wow. I didn’t know a system could get paranoid. OK. Delete the last line and resume.” He waited and replayed the message to make sure before launching back in with “apparently I can’t tell you you’d be impressed as that would ding security, that’s how tight this is.” He smirked as the computer didn’t ding him.
As the shuttle lifted off, a Mican figure stepped into the shadows at the back of the bay and spoke into a comm he’d not seen fit to show whilst the others had been there. “Yeah,” he told an unknown associate, “the Professor’s on his way with the MacGuffin.”
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Looks like they weren't able to keep the professor taking off and leaving with the item a secret. That is gonna make things interesting.
- Harry Johnathan
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- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2020 12:10 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
"..the Professor also has with him a large cache of Unobtanium."
Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But [The LORD] said, “Yes, you did laugh.” - Genesis 18:15 (NIV).
- Welsh Halfwit
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- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
10
The Loper stretched out the time between Micanna and Dawnicca, the outermost colony in Council space. It wasn’t exactly a place that was stopped by often and had a bit of a reputation so ‘flying the flag’ was a useful thing, even on a Canine world. Commander Hawle didn’t see the logic of having a ‘drive by’ on the way to a secret mission but, for a Commander in the U.S.C., it wasn’t so much understanding the order as understanding it was an order. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the usual ‘speak to the Colony Leader and make general promises and nod appreciatively as he was carrying not just an Ambassador but a retired President who’d want to interfere because why wouldn’t she? He’d heard the Bellaphron had managed to get the liner to a repair ship an hour or so back and they’d kept him in the loop simply because there might be some need. As it turned out there wasn’t, other than to tell him that someone had tried a toxin in Havakar’s food replication system that had set off the biologic alert system. They’d arrested the technician registered as entering her cabin before that, before the Loper had picked them up. He wasn’t saying anything and Aldair reasoned now that he had to decide if he said something or not. The President needed to know, didn’t she?
Katara stopped as she patrolled her engine kingdom. There was someone watching her as she ordered Januvitski to seal up the valves in section fourteen and checked her closest terminal to make sure the power flow was still optimal at velocity four. Her ears flicked back. “Can I help you,” she said straight.
“Um,” Sarafina said hesitantly, her hands wringing the baton she was holding. “I was hoping to watch you ordering your subordinates? How… How you take command? I mean my mother does it so easily but…”
Katara breathed out, a long breath that started to feel against her ribs as she tried to think of diplomatic ways to put this. “If you want to take commands, kid then take this one and…”
Jan hurried over and asked Katara a redundant question as Sarafina tried to think what she’d done wrong. After a moment, Jan came to the girl’s side and escorted her to Katara’s office. “What… what did I say,” Sarafina asked. “I mean, we’re both Celicans and I thought that meant we’d be able to talk, at least?”
“What’s your name, sweetie,” Jan asked as she sat Sarafina down.
“Sarafina,” the young Celican replied. “Sara for short.”
“Januvitski,” Jan replied, “Jan for ease of pronunciation.” She shook the Vixen’s hand. “what your covering is doesn’t matter to Katara. She respects skill and willingness to learn. And she’s in a bad mood today too. As for now? Stay here for a bit.” She pulled down a few technical manuals onto a padd, along with a trashy novel from Raitche. “You have any engineering experience?”
“A bit,” Sarafina said, taking the padd hesitantly.
“Then study the manuals, and keep the novel for bed, eh?” Jan patted Sara’s shoulder reassuringly and got the crack of a smile from her target. She headed back to work.
Professor Caltaya coughed lightly as Brunton stayed quiet to his side, wondering exactly how long it would take for Night to see him. “I think I need to check in with the senior Medical Officer,” he continued loudly.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Night said from her office. “Just finishing up a few files.”
Brunton decided to let her in on the joke. “As always, eh, Night,” he queried.
“Yeah, I…” The Detective snickered as he heard her voice screech to a stop as the wheels started moving and the cogs clanked together and the bigger Mican swept from her office, enveloped him in a hug and a passionate kiss that he returned before her eyes opened and she remembered there was someone else there.
She put him down. “Heh,” she told the laughing Celican, “Sorry about that…”
“No, no,” he replied, waving away the apology. “It does me good to see youngsters in love. Reminds me the time might not be over for myself, hmm?” His face wrinkled with charm and a lithe tone of tongue. “I suppose you must run your tests but I’ll make sure my bodyguard has a lot of time off, Doctor.”
“It’s appreciated,” Night answered, beginning her tests. “And since when does a Celican need a bodyguard?”
He laughed as he removed his shirt to show the aged figure underneath. “Age dulls even the best fighting instincts my dear. And mine were never all that to start with” He raised his legs so Night could apply pushing blocks to them and measure the power of his legs whilst pads recorded heart and pulse rates. He pushed against the blocks, cycle like, for several minutes as the two Micans watched. He felt a little envy, that showed in his pulse rate, as their tails intertwined but he let it pass as she released the blocks and Brunton caught his legs to lower them down to the bed safely. “No allergies that I know of,” he continued as Night ran chest scans. “Have I developed any?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she replied. “In fact your organs are in near perfect condition. Except for you liver, hmm,” she added, with a grin of her own. “No real damage but a taste for Mican liquor?”
He sat up and looked at the screen. “You can tell it’s Mican?”
“No,” she replied, tapping his nose, “I just know how hard it is to get Celican liquor on Micanna! You can get dressed again. You’re the fourth I’ve had to run tests on today. All Celican.”
“Other Celicans have come on board today,” David asked, doing his Detective duty. He looked alarmed.
“Yes. They needed removing from the liner. You’ll probably see them later. A retired President, her daughter and their bodyguard.”
The two shared glances but, eventually, relented. They’d known someone had been brought over from the liner. “Make sure the Sunbringer has security, would you, David,” Caltaya asked.
Three hours on, the ship arrived at Dawnicca.
The Loper stretched out the time between Micanna and Dawnicca, the outermost colony in Council space. It wasn’t exactly a place that was stopped by often and had a bit of a reputation so ‘flying the flag’ was a useful thing, even on a Canine world. Commander Hawle didn’t see the logic of having a ‘drive by’ on the way to a secret mission but, for a Commander in the U.S.C., it wasn’t so much understanding the order as understanding it was an order. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the usual ‘speak to the Colony Leader and make general promises and nod appreciatively as he was carrying not just an Ambassador but a retired President who’d want to interfere because why wouldn’t she? He’d heard the Bellaphron had managed to get the liner to a repair ship an hour or so back and they’d kept him in the loop simply because there might be some need. As it turned out there wasn’t, other than to tell him that someone had tried a toxin in Havakar’s food replication system that had set off the biologic alert system. They’d arrested the technician registered as entering her cabin before that, before the Loper had picked them up. He wasn’t saying anything and Aldair reasoned now that he had to decide if he said something or not. The President needed to know, didn’t she?
Katara stopped as she patrolled her engine kingdom. There was someone watching her as she ordered Januvitski to seal up the valves in section fourteen and checked her closest terminal to make sure the power flow was still optimal at velocity four. Her ears flicked back. “Can I help you,” she said straight.
“Um,” Sarafina said hesitantly, her hands wringing the baton she was holding. “I was hoping to watch you ordering your subordinates? How… How you take command? I mean my mother does it so easily but…”
Katara breathed out, a long breath that started to feel against her ribs as she tried to think of diplomatic ways to put this. “If you want to take commands, kid then take this one and…”
Jan hurried over and asked Katara a redundant question as Sarafina tried to think what she’d done wrong. After a moment, Jan came to the girl’s side and escorted her to Katara’s office. “What… what did I say,” Sarafina asked. “I mean, we’re both Celicans and I thought that meant we’d be able to talk, at least?”
“What’s your name, sweetie,” Jan asked as she sat Sarafina down.
“Sarafina,” the young Celican replied. “Sara for short.”
“Januvitski,” Jan replied, “Jan for ease of pronunciation.” She shook the Vixen’s hand. “what your covering is doesn’t matter to Katara. She respects skill and willingness to learn. And she’s in a bad mood today too. As for now? Stay here for a bit.” She pulled down a few technical manuals onto a padd, along with a trashy novel from Raitche. “You have any engineering experience?”
“A bit,” Sarafina said, taking the padd hesitantly.
“Then study the manuals, and keep the novel for bed, eh?” Jan patted Sara’s shoulder reassuringly and got the crack of a smile from her target. She headed back to work.
Professor Caltaya coughed lightly as Brunton stayed quiet to his side, wondering exactly how long it would take for Night to see him. “I think I need to check in with the senior Medical Officer,” he continued loudly.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Night said from her office. “Just finishing up a few files.”
Brunton decided to let her in on the joke. “As always, eh, Night,” he queried.
“Yeah, I…” The Detective snickered as he heard her voice screech to a stop as the wheels started moving and the cogs clanked together and the bigger Mican swept from her office, enveloped him in a hug and a passionate kiss that he returned before her eyes opened and she remembered there was someone else there.
She put him down. “Heh,” she told the laughing Celican, “Sorry about that…”
“No, no,” he replied, waving away the apology. “It does me good to see youngsters in love. Reminds me the time might not be over for myself, hmm?” His face wrinkled with charm and a lithe tone of tongue. “I suppose you must run your tests but I’ll make sure my bodyguard has a lot of time off, Doctor.”
“It’s appreciated,” Night answered, beginning her tests. “And since when does a Celican need a bodyguard?”
He laughed as he removed his shirt to show the aged figure underneath. “Age dulls even the best fighting instincts my dear. And mine were never all that to start with” He raised his legs so Night could apply pushing blocks to them and measure the power of his legs whilst pads recorded heart and pulse rates. He pushed against the blocks, cycle like, for several minutes as the two Micans watched. He felt a little envy, that showed in his pulse rate, as their tails intertwined but he let it pass as she released the blocks and Brunton caught his legs to lower them down to the bed safely. “No allergies that I know of,” he continued as Night ran chest scans. “Have I developed any?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she replied. “In fact your organs are in near perfect condition. Except for you liver, hmm,” she added, with a grin of her own. “No real damage but a taste for Mican liquor?”
He sat up and looked at the screen. “You can tell it’s Mican?”
“No,” she replied, tapping his nose, “I just know how hard it is to get Celican liquor on Micanna! You can get dressed again. You’re the fourth I’ve had to run tests on today. All Celican.”
“Other Celicans have come on board today,” David asked, doing his Detective duty. He looked alarmed.
“Yes. They needed removing from the liner. You’ll probably see them later. A retired President, her daughter and their bodyguard.”
The two shared glances but, eventually, relented. They’d known someone had been brought over from the liner. “Make sure the Sunbringer has security, would you, David,” Caltaya asked.
Three hours on, the ship arrived at Dawnicca.
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
This chapter is so amazing and came out really good! I always enjoy reading new chapters from you!
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
11
Cedar walked in on the stores as the ship idled at Dawnicca and he asked the porter where the Gavalak meat was before heading over to check it. It was one of the products the colony had found running around when they’d gotten there and had become a staple until the crops and invasive meat nonsentients had become established. Gavalak was still the dominant non-sentient in the wild by a considerable degree, able to cope with the peat rich soil better than anything else. It lived amongst the trees and bushes and had a meat he was told was close to Canine Roplik steak when properly seasoned. He’d never been in a place where it was cheap enough to purchase in bulk so he was looking forward to using the blue tinged meat soon. He put his hands into the chilled compartment and made to pull a piece out. He couldn’t manage it. It was heavy.
“Allow me,” said a patient, female, voice to his side that he recognised easily as Jaqui Pangal. She put her hands in and hauled the item out for him. She dropped it into his hands and he almost fell over. “Bit heavy for you to take to the kitchen by yourself, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “I was going to ask the porter to bring over the hover… Oh, he’s gone.” Cedar looked around for the Colonist who’d brought the goods up. Nowhere to be seen.”
Pangal stiffened. “WHAT Porter?”
“The.. the canine that was here when I came in. The one who must have brought it from the industrial teleporter?”
“It was beamed direct,” Pangal advised him. “No porters involved. Dang it.” She tapped her comm. “Security alert! Intruder on board. All teams, search for any canine…”
Cedar pulled at her arm. “He was a Alsan,” he pointed out, wondering if he could have done something heroic to deal with the intruder. Headbutt him in the privates sort of thing.
“...Alsan Canine male. Detain or incapacitate. Out.” She closed the link as no siren sounded. The simple phrase ‘security alert’ meant it had gone to all security officers and the bridge only. No alert sound was needed. All it would do is upset the other crew and alert the intruder. She headed out quickly, readying her gun.
“Um…” Cedar asked before looking for a place to put the heavy meat.
Aldair accepted the hand of Colonial President Markus at the end of the meeting and activated a jammer after the Spanian had left the room for them to talk with each other. The Lappinean deflated a bit, relaxing and sagging. “They have issues,” he told Stikka, Havakar and Una. He’d brought Stikka for two reasons. He needed Raven in charge on the ship and Stikka could record everything that had been discussed here in case it was needed later.
“Yes,” Havakar put in, “irrigating the planet to encourage new farming and foliage is tricky…”
“It could be catastrophic,” Una put in. “Affecting everything like that isn’t something to be done lightly. They could be headed for environmental catastrophe.”
“They see the benefits to them and there are many,” Aldair commented. “You need water before you can expand. For that you need purification plants and power and all sorts of things that they’re free to bring in if they can afford it…”
“Or if certain companies sponsor them,” Stikka contributed. “Either way, it’s a colony matter. Nothing to do with the United Council. We should have had the professor down here.”
“He didn’t want to leave the ship,” Aldair advised.
“Right,” Katara said, finally stepping into her office after almost two full hours. “I’m impressed. You’re still here. Or am I depressed?” She watched as Sarafina stood up to greet her. “Sit down.” Sarafina sat. Katara frowned. “Do you have any mind of your own,” she demanded. “Are you fully subservient to your mother,” she continued, unrelentingly as she watched the younger Vixen twitch. “Does she do everything for you and tell you where to…”
“I AM MY OWN PERSON,” Sarafina shouted, standing up and getting face to face with Katara, her lips back and teeth bared as she focussed her anger as she poked the engineer in the chest. “MY MOTHER DOES NOT…”
Katara grinned and gripped the hand poking her lightly. Sarafina looked her in the eye, down to the held finger and back up again before the engineer pushed her back. “I wondered if there was a Celican in there,” she told her. “Good to see there is, under all that political sweetness.” Sarafina glowered at her. “If you ever want to command? You need to have that as well as the politeness.”
“I don’t get it,” Sarafina glowered.
“Earlier on, you called the people who work for me my subordinates.” Katara pointed to the group outside, who suddenly looked as though they’d not been spying on the pair. “It’s true, they are. But what would morale be like if I called them that? It’d drop. They’re my colleagues, Sara, nothing less. And they rely on me being firm but fair. The Carrotbrain in command does the same too…”
Sarafina snickered. “See what you mean about the politic,” she said. “Doubt you call him that to his face.”
“I do when he’s being one,” Katara remarked. She let out a breath. “If you’re going to go down the route of being an officer, you not only have to learn how to take an order but how to give one and how to challenge one. For instance… You’re an Ensign and you have a problem with another ensign. How do you deal with it?”
“Um… I hit them?”
“Celican,” Katara agreed. “But you could end up in the brig or in the medical by if they hit you back. You could get them to agree to a fight in the holoroom. But, generally, bring it to your department head. If the problem’s with your department head..?”
“Talk to another department head,” Sarafina replied hopefully.
“Hmm,” Katara replied carefully. “No. You go to the First Officer IF you feel you can’t work it out. DON’T do it often and NEVER take it to the Captain. The Captain’s main responsibility has to be the ship. The First Officer deals with the crew. You only deal with the Captain if they come to you. And you talk to the First Officer or Captain ONCE. You don’t have full access to them when you want it. They have other priorities. You get that?” She gave her a look that implied she thought the other was dumb if she disagreed so Sarafina merely nodded. “For now that’s good. But, whoever you end up being commanded by will expect a ‘yes sir/ma’am/chief’ in response. You don’t get preference over who your mother is.”
“I don’t want it,” Sarafina replied with quiet anger.
“Good. Second point. Giving the order. Them out there? They’re not subordinates to me. They’re my team. My friends in some cases. They trust me to know their best attributes to use and challenge them. They know I believe they can do their jobs and won’t put their lives at risk without need.” Her voice lowered to a growl. “They also know that there may well come a need. Are you willing to send someone to die, girl?”
Sarafina swallowed. She glanced over to the main room. “W...why are Security here,” she asked.
Katara looked over and rolled her eyes. “Let’s go find out.”
Cedar walked in on the stores as the ship idled at Dawnicca and he asked the porter where the Gavalak meat was before heading over to check it. It was one of the products the colony had found running around when they’d gotten there and had become a staple until the crops and invasive meat nonsentients had become established. Gavalak was still the dominant non-sentient in the wild by a considerable degree, able to cope with the peat rich soil better than anything else. It lived amongst the trees and bushes and had a meat he was told was close to Canine Roplik steak when properly seasoned. He’d never been in a place where it was cheap enough to purchase in bulk so he was looking forward to using the blue tinged meat soon. He put his hands into the chilled compartment and made to pull a piece out. He couldn’t manage it. It was heavy.
“Allow me,” said a patient, female, voice to his side that he recognised easily as Jaqui Pangal. She put her hands in and hauled the item out for him. She dropped it into his hands and he almost fell over. “Bit heavy for you to take to the kitchen by yourself, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “I was going to ask the porter to bring over the hover… Oh, he’s gone.” Cedar looked around for the Colonist who’d brought the goods up. Nowhere to be seen.”
Pangal stiffened. “WHAT Porter?”
“The.. the canine that was here when I came in. The one who must have brought it from the industrial teleporter?”
“It was beamed direct,” Pangal advised him. “No porters involved. Dang it.” She tapped her comm. “Security alert! Intruder on board. All teams, search for any canine…”
Cedar pulled at her arm. “He was a Alsan,” he pointed out, wondering if he could have done something heroic to deal with the intruder. Headbutt him in the privates sort of thing.
“...Alsan Canine male. Detain or incapacitate. Out.” She closed the link as no siren sounded. The simple phrase ‘security alert’ meant it had gone to all security officers and the bridge only. No alert sound was needed. All it would do is upset the other crew and alert the intruder. She headed out quickly, readying her gun.
“Um…” Cedar asked before looking for a place to put the heavy meat.
Aldair accepted the hand of Colonial President Markus at the end of the meeting and activated a jammer after the Spanian had left the room for them to talk with each other. The Lappinean deflated a bit, relaxing and sagging. “They have issues,” he told Stikka, Havakar and Una. He’d brought Stikka for two reasons. He needed Raven in charge on the ship and Stikka could record everything that had been discussed here in case it was needed later.
“Yes,” Havakar put in, “irrigating the planet to encourage new farming and foliage is tricky…”
“It could be catastrophic,” Una put in. “Affecting everything like that isn’t something to be done lightly. They could be headed for environmental catastrophe.”
“They see the benefits to them and there are many,” Aldair commented. “You need water before you can expand. For that you need purification plants and power and all sorts of things that they’re free to bring in if they can afford it…”
“Or if certain companies sponsor them,” Stikka contributed. “Either way, it’s a colony matter. Nothing to do with the United Council. We should have had the professor down here.”
“He didn’t want to leave the ship,” Aldair advised.
“Right,” Katara said, finally stepping into her office after almost two full hours. “I’m impressed. You’re still here. Or am I depressed?” She watched as Sarafina stood up to greet her. “Sit down.” Sarafina sat. Katara frowned. “Do you have any mind of your own,” she demanded. “Are you fully subservient to your mother,” she continued, unrelentingly as she watched the younger Vixen twitch. “Does she do everything for you and tell you where to…”
“I AM MY OWN PERSON,” Sarafina shouted, standing up and getting face to face with Katara, her lips back and teeth bared as she focussed her anger as she poked the engineer in the chest. “MY MOTHER DOES NOT…”
Katara grinned and gripped the hand poking her lightly. Sarafina looked her in the eye, down to the held finger and back up again before the engineer pushed her back. “I wondered if there was a Celican in there,” she told her. “Good to see there is, under all that political sweetness.” Sarafina glowered at her. “If you ever want to command? You need to have that as well as the politeness.”
“I don’t get it,” Sarafina glowered.
“Earlier on, you called the people who work for me my subordinates.” Katara pointed to the group outside, who suddenly looked as though they’d not been spying on the pair. “It’s true, they are. But what would morale be like if I called them that? It’d drop. They’re my colleagues, Sara, nothing less. And they rely on me being firm but fair. The Carrotbrain in command does the same too…”
Sarafina snickered. “See what you mean about the politic,” she said. “Doubt you call him that to his face.”
“I do when he’s being one,” Katara remarked. She let out a breath. “If you’re going to go down the route of being an officer, you not only have to learn how to take an order but how to give one and how to challenge one. For instance… You’re an Ensign and you have a problem with another ensign. How do you deal with it?”
“Um… I hit them?”
“Celican,” Katara agreed. “But you could end up in the brig or in the medical by if they hit you back. You could get them to agree to a fight in the holoroom. But, generally, bring it to your department head. If the problem’s with your department head..?”
“Talk to another department head,” Sarafina replied hopefully.
“Hmm,” Katara replied carefully. “No. You go to the First Officer IF you feel you can’t work it out. DON’T do it often and NEVER take it to the Captain. The Captain’s main responsibility has to be the ship. The First Officer deals with the crew. You only deal with the Captain if they come to you. And you talk to the First Officer or Captain ONCE. You don’t have full access to them when you want it. They have other priorities. You get that?” She gave her a look that implied she thought the other was dumb if she disagreed so Sarafina merely nodded. “For now that’s good. But, whoever you end up being commanded by will expect a ‘yes sir/ma’am/chief’ in response. You don’t get preference over who your mother is.”
“I don’t want it,” Sarafina replied with quiet anger.
“Good. Second point. Giving the order. Them out there? They’re not subordinates to me. They’re my team. My friends in some cases. They trust me to know their best attributes to use and challenge them. They know I believe they can do their jobs and won’t put their lives at risk without need.” Her voice lowered to a growl. “They also know that there may well come a need. Are you willing to send someone to die, girl?”
Sarafina swallowed. She glanced over to the main room. “W...why are Security here,” she asked.
Katara looked over and rolled her eyes. “Let’s go find out.”
- Amazee Dayzee
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- Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
I am also interested in seeing what Security is gonna take a look at in the next chapter. I always love a good mystery even if I suck at them! ![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
- Welsh Halfwit
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- Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
- Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.
Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
12
Jaqui knew there was probably one or two targets right this moment. Apparently the Presidents daughter was with Katara and secure so that left the Professor and his toy. Brunton had the Professor in hand so that left the toy and the launcher so she was headed in there now, beginning to speed up as she saw the canine trying to disengage the stasis lock. She drew her shok-prod and swung it at his head but the Aslan ducked and it fizzed over his ears as he aimed a punch towards her ribs. She turned aside, caught the arm with a hand and slapped the shok-prod into his underarm before shoulder throwing him away from the device. He growled as he rolled to his feet and sprung at her, knocking her down and snapping at her throat, trying to force his head down, even against the pain of the prod. Jaqui put her feet under his groin and thumped them, fast and hard, before bracing and thrusting him off her. His finger claws raked the side of her neck where he’d been starting to try to strangle her and she felt them throb as she stood up. He, at least, looked fairly glass eyed from the dozen or so blows she’d inflicted and his vision was swimming but he was standing again and tried a swing punch that she dodged to throw an elbow into his nose and it split on impact. He put his hands to his nose and Jaqui swept his legs to put him to the floor. She put her foot down on his back and fancied she heard something break with the power she could put in before she knelt on him. “You done or do I have to get annoyed,” she asked, pulling his hands back so she could tie them. She pulled his head up so he could answer.
“I’m done,” he told her, “I’m done!”
She patted his head. “Good boy! Heel,” she added, before calling it in. She picked him up, ignoring the smear of blood on the floor. “Walkies,” she said sweetly, pushing him towards the brig.
“Feeling any better,” Night asked Donnika as the patient struggled to sit up. It wasn’t quite as hard as it had been last time and these things in his chest were feeling a little more him now… or was it just for now? His throat was still like sandpaper though, an effect of the exposure. The air canals were less damaged than the lungs so they were letting them repair themselves with medication rather than try the extremely intricate process of replacing those.
He coughed bitterly but managed to reply that there seemed to be improvement.
“Spoken like an Engineer,” Night complained, tapping his nose. “Engines are working, Doctor,” she added.
“You’re… feeling better now… your Boyfriend’s aboard…” Donnika coughed. “S’good,” he added, before taking a drink.
Night’s attitude cooled as she put some of the face towels away to one side of his bed.. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“No,” Donnika fibbed. “Just that… you’re more relaxed...around Micans than Raitchians.”
“I have a… history is all,” Night said, hoping he’d move on from this subject quickly. “I’m getting over it.”
“Good.” He managed half a smile. “We’re not all bad guys y’know?”
She flung a towel at him.
Maze Hardy, Raitchian at play, ran the latest checks of her fighter, the not as experimental as it once was multi condition Starlancer 14 and imagined firing the weapons as security came nosing about. She frowned. They were checking more than they tended to do on a normal patrol and she watched as they checked cockpits and under wings as they moved through the storage bay. She put the cockpit cover back and called over to them to make sure they didn’t do anything rash, like shoot her. “Heya, Sawyer,” she said, waving to her fellow Raitchian as she identified him and his partner, Wayanne the Celican.
“Oh, heya, Maze,” he replied, flushing enough that the Celican could identify a subtle change in his scent. “You’ve not seen any unexpected people in here, have you?”
“Only you Sawyer,” she replied cheerily, hoisting herself out onto the steps to come down as the canopy closed. “Why? Is something happening?”
“Oh, we’re just checking for intruders,” he said matter-of-factly. “Being brave and all of that. Putting ourselves between the innocent people and harm.”
“Not many innocent around here,” Wayanne remarked wryly.
“Is that an anti-Raitchian thing,” Maze demanded.
“Oh, no. No.”
“Good.” She looked Sawyer in the eye. “Up for a bunk up tonight, Sawyer?”
“Absolutely,” he replied before giving her an unprofessional kiss on the lips.
“I never saw that,” Wayanne told them.
“Then report to the holo-opticians,” Sawyer grinned.
Bazil Fuse worked to repair the nasal damage that Jaqui had inflicted and had needed to reset the nose itself, a painful, crunchy business that had to be done to clear the distorted airway. He’d been forced to give the criminal a local anaesthetic so he didn’t die of pain and shock. It shouldn’t hurt for long, though. Bazil had assured him of that and had bandaged the muzzle so he could still talk, stretching the fabric tight against the nose and routing it around the back of the Alsan’s head. “Good job your ears are upright and not to the side,” he told the manacled captive. “You’d have trouble hearing otherwise.”
“I’ll tell you nothing,” he warned.
“Then I won’t ask you anything,” the Doctor replied. “I’ll leave that to the pros.” He looked up for a moment. “You ever notice how many senior criminals just vanish? Never go to court?” He looked at the Canid, who remained silent. “They often talk about each other. Really, they do. For better deals. For relocation. Whilst people like you are loyal to them over yourself, they’re loyal to themselves over you. Take a hint from a Raitchian, fella. You’ve got information. Trade.”
He packed his kit up and stepped out of the room. “Give him about ten,” he told the gel throated Lappinean Chief. “Then he might make a deal.”
Jaqui knew there was probably one or two targets right this moment. Apparently the Presidents daughter was with Katara and secure so that left the Professor and his toy. Brunton had the Professor in hand so that left the toy and the launcher so she was headed in there now, beginning to speed up as she saw the canine trying to disengage the stasis lock. She drew her shok-prod and swung it at his head but the Aslan ducked and it fizzed over his ears as he aimed a punch towards her ribs. She turned aside, caught the arm with a hand and slapped the shok-prod into his underarm before shoulder throwing him away from the device. He growled as he rolled to his feet and sprung at her, knocking her down and snapping at her throat, trying to force his head down, even against the pain of the prod. Jaqui put her feet under his groin and thumped them, fast and hard, before bracing and thrusting him off her. His finger claws raked the side of her neck where he’d been starting to try to strangle her and she felt them throb as she stood up. He, at least, looked fairly glass eyed from the dozen or so blows she’d inflicted and his vision was swimming but he was standing again and tried a swing punch that she dodged to throw an elbow into his nose and it split on impact. He put his hands to his nose and Jaqui swept his legs to put him to the floor. She put her foot down on his back and fancied she heard something break with the power she could put in before she knelt on him. “You done or do I have to get annoyed,” she asked, pulling his hands back so she could tie them. She pulled his head up so he could answer.
“I’m done,” he told her, “I’m done!”
She patted his head. “Good boy! Heel,” she added, before calling it in. She picked him up, ignoring the smear of blood on the floor. “Walkies,” she said sweetly, pushing him towards the brig.
“Feeling any better,” Night asked Donnika as the patient struggled to sit up. It wasn’t quite as hard as it had been last time and these things in his chest were feeling a little more him now… or was it just for now? His throat was still like sandpaper though, an effect of the exposure. The air canals were less damaged than the lungs so they were letting them repair themselves with medication rather than try the extremely intricate process of replacing those.
He coughed bitterly but managed to reply that there seemed to be improvement.
“Spoken like an Engineer,” Night complained, tapping his nose. “Engines are working, Doctor,” she added.
“You’re… feeling better now… your Boyfriend’s aboard…” Donnika coughed. “S’good,” he added, before taking a drink.
Night’s attitude cooled as she put some of the face towels away to one side of his bed.. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“No,” Donnika fibbed. “Just that… you’re more relaxed...around Micans than Raitchians.”
“I have a… history is all,” Night said, hoping he’d move on from this subject quickly. “I’m getting over it.”
“Good.” He managed half a smile. “We’re not all bad guys y’know?”
She flung a towel at him.
Maze Hardy, Raitchian at play, ran the latest checks of her fighter, the not as experimental as it once was multi condition Starlancer 14 and imagined firing the weapons as security came nosing about. She frowned. They were checking more than they tended to do on a normal patrol and she watched as they checked cockpits and under wings as they moved through the storage bay. She put the cockpit cover back and called over to them to make sure they didn’t do anything rash, like shoot her. “Heya, Sawyer,” she said, waving to her fellow Raitchian as she identified him and his partner, Wayanne the Celican.
“Oh, heya, Maze,” he replied, flushing enough that the Celican could identify a subtle change in his scent. “You’ve not seen any unexpected people in here, have you?”
“Only you Sawyer,” she replied cheerily, hoisting herself out onto the steps to come down as the canopy closed. “Why? Is something happening?”
“Oh, we’re just checking for intruders,” he said matter-of-factly. “Being brave and all of that. Putting ourselves between the innocent people and harm.”
“Not many innocent around here,” Wayanne remarked wryly.
“Is that an anti-Raitchian thing,” Maze demanded.
“Oh, no. No.”
“Good.” She looked Sawyer in the eye. “Up for a bunk up tonight, Sawyer?”
“Absolutely,” he replied before giving her an unprofessional kiss on the lips.
“I never saw that,” Wayanne told them.
“Then report to the holo-opticians,” Sawyer grinned.
Bazil Fuse worked to repair the nasal damage that Jaqui had inflicted and had needed to reset the nose itself, a painful, crunchy business that had to be done to clear the distorted airway. He’d been forced to give the criminal a local anaesthetic so he didn’t die of pain and shock. It shouldn’t hurt for long, though. Bazil had assured him of that and had bandaged the muzzle so he could still talk, stretching the fabric tight against the nose and routing it around the back of the Alsan’s head. “Good job your ears are upright and not to the side,” he told the manacled captive. “You’d have trouble hearing otherwise.”
“I’ll tell you nothing,” he warned.
“Then I won’t ask you anything,” the Doctor replied. “I’ll leave that to the pros.” He looked up for a moment. “You ever notice how many senior criminals just vanish? Never go to court?” He looked at the Canid, who remained silent. “They often talk about each other. Really, they do. For better deals. For relocation. Whilst people like you are loyal to them over yourself, they’re loyal to themselves over you. Take a hint from a Raitchian, fella. You’ve got information. Trade.”
He packed his kit up and stepped out of the room. “Give him about ten,” he told the gel throated Lappinean Chief. “Then he might make a deal.”
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Wondering what sort of information is gonna be traded to move the story forward? Definitely looking forward to what will happen next!
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
14
Brunton watched the door as Caltraya examined the system for abuses following the intruders actions, looking to see if the program had been affected in any way. “I was told this couldn’t happen,” he complained. “I was told Council ships were secure…”
“Nothing’s ever totally secure, Professor,” David replied. “Someone will always get through if they’re smart enough.” He looked up in thought. “Someone must have been stationed on Micanna, watching us. They knew the ship was going to stop here… Who would want to stop this test, Professor?”
The Celican stepped down from the dais and regarded his colleague lightly. He sighed and stepped around the room, lightly brushing his hand over the consoles. “About fifteen companies might want to stop someone else getting there first,” he admitted quietly. “If we prove it works, the technology becomes general use. Anyone can use it.” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not greedy,” he admitted, “I just want the appreciation. If a company does it? They’ll keep all the profits, all the patents they can scrounge up and all the power that comes with being able to reignite suns and create colonies in unoccupied space.” He chuckled. “I don’t rate the United Security Council that highly but it’s best the technology is used by them rather than Fawren, Raicarra, Monta…”
“So it could be they’ve all contributed to getting this guy on board.”
“Worrying thought, isn’t it? That strike was obvious. Have they done something we’ve not seen?” He got back to his checking search.
Commander Hawle was just a little relieved to hear about the intrusion on his ship as it had gotten him out of another meeting with a very dogmatic president. He’d soothed the politicians mood by promising that Stikka would record everything and he’d watch it later and it really was an emergency. Captain needed back on board. When Stikka had tried to rise, Aldair had put a hand on his shoulder and told him second officers weren’t required yet. He patted the Racon’s shoulder and said he’d call if there was a need. Then he’d walked, slightly quickly, out of the office and beamed up. Now he walked in on Jaqui’s office. “So, what do we have,” he asked her.
“No real need for you to come back up,” she offered, finishing typing her action report and sliding it into her file system. “I caught Pedigree Chummy here,” she continued, tapping the monitor watching the Alsan, “in the process and I believe he’s looking to talk. Probably deal.”
Hawle sagged. “Project Reclaim,” he asked with resignation.
“Oh, I hope not. There’s no Council base here. We’d need to keep him and I like my cells being free.”
“Well, we going in? Oh,” he added, “there was a need for me to come back up. Another hour with that President – this colonies one – and I’d have been chewing my ears off.” He stepped over to the replication machine and took three coffees on a tray before he opened the door to the interview room and stepped in, playing at tipping the drinks with a ‘whoa’ before stabilizing and putting the tray on the table. “Good morning… or is it evening? Jaqui?”
“It’s evening, ship time. About one in the afternoon on the colony.”
“Hmm, thought I’d just had lunch.” Hawle sat and put his feet on the table as Jaqui sat next to him. “I usually prefer a nap after a lunch. I hope what you have for us is good.”
The Alsan looked at the Lappinean male in something akin to confusion. This was the renowned leader of the ship? The off-kilter buffoon he’d heard about? Was this pretence? Was this someone he should trust? Did he have much of a choice. His eye flicked to the coffees. “What, no tea?”
Hawle shifted his feet to the floor and put his elbows on the table. “Our replication machine makes awful tea. Coffee’s better. So, what’s the tale? And start with your name.”
“I want reclaim,” he announced.
Hawle and Pangal looked at each other. “It’s not a magic word,” Jaqui told him, still feeling her neck scratches. “You can’t just say ‘reclaim’, sign a form and have done with it. There needs to be an offering first. A truth at least.”
“There are people it’s not good to cross. I know a few things but I can’t tell you about them until I’m sure you’re not going to leave me to their tender mercies.”
“We can take you with us for now. You stay in the cell. If you tell us what you know about the events of today.”
He lowered his head. Breathed out through his nosein a way that sent ripples across the top of his coffee. Opened his eyes again. His nose still hurt. “My clan was hired to sabotage the device. I was to disable the security protocols, insert new code and re-establish the protocols. We knew you’ be stopping here for produce and I could get on board that way.” The glower of hatred towards the pair struck Hawle as quite refreshing from a caught being. “We know the teleport Officer.”
“Make a note,” Hawle said idly, angling towards Jaqui, “to get colony police to arrest that teleport officer, would you?” He looked back at the prisoner. “Go on.”
“I don’t know who hired us, I just know the stuff he told us to put in.” He reached into his mouth with his unmanacled hand and pulled free a fake tooth from near the back. He put it on the table and Aldair scanned it to confirm it was , in fact, a computer access device inside a hardened plastic coating. He noted the spots of blood on the ‘roots’ and chose not to mention it. Yet.
“Get that down to Harvey and Gilly soon as,” Aldair instructed. “Tell them sandbox protocol is in play.”
“Aye,” she replied, using an evidence bag to pick the thing up and put it inside the bag. “Reckon it’s an inside job?”
Hawle shrugged. “It’s possible. The Professor’s dead set on this. Perhaps one of his people was more malleable? Not that he’s going to know. You haven’t really told us much,” Hawle reminded the prisoner. “I think we should just turn you over to the Colonial authorities and let them…”
“The Calbran Clan keep a weapons and cash store in 49 Fortrakka Close!”
Hawle paused, his finger still in the air and his mouth open. An ear drooped. “We’ve got a lockable ‘D’ class cabin available, don’t we?”
Jaqui moaned. “Siiiiirrrr….”
“It’s just until we get him to a council base! Micanna, perhaps...”
Brunton watched the door as Caltraya examined the system for abuses following the intruders actions, looking to see if the program had been affected in any way. “I was told this couldn’t happen,” he complained. “I was told Council ships were secure…”
“Nothing’s ever totally secure, Professor,” David replied. “Someone will always get through if they’re smart enough.” He looked up in thought. “Someone must have been stationed on Micanna, watching us. They knew the ship was going to stop here… Who would want to stop this test, Professor?”
The Celican stepped down from the dais and regarded his colleague lightly. He sighed and stepped around the room, lightly brushing his hand over the consoles. “About fifteen companies might want to stop someone else getting there first,” he admitted quietly. “If we prove it works, the technology becomes general use. Anyone can use it.” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not greedy,” he admitted, “I just want the appreciation. If a company does it? They’ll keep all the profits, all the patents they can scrounge up and all the power that comes with being able to reignite suns and create colonies in unoccupied space.” He chuckled. “I don’t rate the United Security Council that highly but it’s best the technology is used by them rather than Fawren, Raicarra, Monta…”
“So it could be they’ve all contributed to getting this guy on board.”
“Worrying thought, isn’t it? That strike was obvious. Have they done something we’ve not seen?” He got back to his checking search.
Commander Hawle was just a little relieved to hear about the intrusion on his ship as it had gotten him out of another meeting with a very dogmatic president. He’d soothed the politicians mood by promising that Stikka would record everything and he’d watch it later and it really was an emergency. Captain needed back on board. When Stikka had tried to rise, Aldair had put a hand on his shoulder and told him second officers weren’t required yet. He patted the Racon’s shoulder and said he’d call if there was a need. Then he’d walked, slightly quickly, out of the office and beamed up. Now he walked in on Jaqui’s office. “So, what do we have,” he asked her.
“No real need for you to come back up,” she offered, finishing typing her action report and sliding it into her file system. “I caught Pedigree Chummy here,” she continued, tapping the monitor watching the Alsan, “in the process and I believe he’s looking to talk. Probably deal.”
Hawle sagged. “Project Reclaim,” he asked with resignation.
“Oh, I hope not. There’s no Council base here. We’d need to keep him and I like my cells being free.”
“Well, we going in? Oh,” he added, “there was a need for me to come back up. Another hour with that President – this colonies one – and I’d have been chewing my ears off.” He stepped over to the replication machine and took three coffees on a tray before he opened the door to the interview room and stepped in, playing at tipping the drinks with a ‘whoa’ before stabilizing and putting the tray on the table. “Good morning… or is it evening? Jaqui?”
“It’s evening, ship time. About one in the afternoon on the colony.”
“Hmm, thought I’d just had lunch.” Hawle sat and put his feet on the table as Jaqui sat next to him. “I usually prefer a nap after a lunch. I hope what you have for us is good.”
The Alsan looked at the Lappinean male in something akin to confusion. This was the renowned leader of the ship? The off-kilter buffoon he’d heard about? Was this pretence? Was this someone he should trust? Did he have much of a choice. His eye flicked to the coffees. “What, no tea?”
Hawle shifted his feet to the floor and put his elbows on the table. “Our replication machine makes awful tea. Coffee’s better. So, what’s the tale? And start with your name.”
“I want reclaim,” he announced.
Hawle and Pangal looked at each other. “It’s not a magic word,” Jaqui told him, still feeling her neck scratches. “You can’t just say ‘reclaim’, sign a form and have done with it. There needs to be an offering first. A truth at least.”
“There are people it’s not good to cross. I know a few things but I can’t tell you about them until I’m sure you’re not going to leave me to their tender mercies.”
“We can take you with us for now. You stay in the cell. If you tell us what you know about the events of today.”
He lowered his head. Breathed out through his nosein a way that sent ripples across the top of his coffee. Opened his eyes again. His nose still hurt. “My clan was hired to sabotage the device. I was to disable the security protocols, insert new code and re-establish the protocols. We knew you’ be stopping here for produce and I could get on board that way.” The glower of hatred towards the pair struck Hawle as quite refreshing from a caught being. “We know the teleport Officer.”
“Make a note,” Hawle said idly, angling towards Jaqui, “to get colony police to arrest that teleport officer, would you?” He looked back at the prisoner. “Go on.”
“I don’t know who hired us, I just know the stuff he told us to put in.” He reached into his mouth with his unmanacled hand and pulled free a fake tooth from near the back. He put it on the table and Aldair scanned it to confirm it was , in fact, a computer access device inside a hardened plastic coating. He noted the spots of blood on the ‘roots’ and chose not to mention it. Yet.
“Get that down to Harvey and Gilly soon as,” Aldair instructed. “Tell them sandbox protocol is in play.”
“Aye,” she replied, using an evidence bag to pick the thing up and put it inside the bag. “Reckon it’s an inside job?”
Hawle shrugged. “It’s possible. The Professor’s dead set on this. Perhaps one of his people was more malleable? Not that he’s going to know. You haven’t really told us much,” Hawle reminded the prisoner. “I think we should just turn you over to the Colonial authorities and let them…”
“The Calbran Clan keep a weapons and cash store in 49 Fortrakka Close!”
Hawle paused, his finger still in the air and his mouth open. An ear drooped. “We’ve got a lockable ‘D’ class cabin available, don’t we?”
Jaqui moaned. “Siiiiirrrr….”
“It’s just until we get him to a council base! Micanna, perhaps...”
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
I love how Hawle is described as an off=kilter buffoon though he does end up getting things done and if very successful. He might be a bit of a dolt but he is Elena's dolt. ![Very Happy :D](./images/smilies/icon_e_biggrin.gif)
![Very Happy :D](./images/smilies/icon_e_biggrin.gif)
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Sometimes Aldair likes to shirk his responsibilities...
15
Hawle stood on the bridge, facing the star spotted visage of space they were about to enter with some sort of trepidation. President Havakar, Professor Caltaya and David Brunton were with him as Hawle thought of a way to deal with the speech he’d have to make before they left Council space. OK. He had a thought. “Before you put us on shipwide, Dawton, you should know it’ll be the same speech I made a couple of years back when we ended up rescuing the Bellaphron.” He shrugged as he saw the Human’s shoulders sag. “It’ll pretty much be word for word. I know everyone’s heard it before and it’ll bore them to tears but…”
Hawle heard a cough behind him. “If you want me to make the speech, Captain,” the old Vixen said with strength of resignation, “all you have to do is ask.”
Hawle turned to her and bowed theatrically. “If you could take this burden, ma’am.”
“I’ll burden you if you keep this up,” she grumbled but Hawle couldn’t help but see the twinkle in her eye. “Any really good politician can make up a short speech on the fly. When you’re ready.”
“O.K.,” Hawle replied, gesturing to Dawton. “Lock out the prisoner’s room. Otherwise, put us on shipwide, David.”
“You’re on.”
“Better be,” Hawle muttered, “or I’m talking to myself.” He raised his voice. “Your attention please. This is your Captain speaking. As of now, we are parked right at the very edge of United Security Council space. As is in statute we have the right to make a speech to mark the occasion but today I have decided to forgo the speech…” he waited a few seconds, knowing several of his crew would now relax, thinking the danger was over. “...so I handed the privilege to President Havakar. Attend to her words and pay attention. Unless you’re doing something dangerous.” He turned towards her, standing to attention and gesturing behind his back that Stikka and Raven should do the same. “Madame President.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, before starting as she remembered her error. “Never mind. Best foot forward. I couldn’t have imagined,” she proceeded, “when I started my retirement cruise, the paths I’d end up taking and the things I’d end up being part of. I imagine it’s the same for most of you. But that’s life, it seems. We stand here, now, looking to expand our horizons and the knowledge of the universe. It’s all any of us has ever looked to do in our ways. Expanding and extending the hand in friendship whilst acknowledging the risks. We are out here on a great endeavour, regardless of success. We will help shape the future in these next few days. I cannot think of many people I would rather be with, doing this. Your Commander has trust in you. Your control has trust in you. I have trust in you. So let us put our best feet forward and bring the future to the present. Thank you for your time.” She nodded to Hawle who stayed at attention but pointed at Dawton, who closed the line. Hawle stayed as he was. “Why are you still standing like that?” Professor Caltaya stepped over and whispered into her ear. “Oh,” she replied, “I had forgotten.” She saluted back and half the command staff sagged in relief as they were able to release their salute. “It has been a while since I had to inspect the troops. Are we ready to move out, Commander?”
“Of course,” Hawle told her. “And everyone makes the error with Commander and Captain to start with, Ma’am.”
She looked at him archly. “whilst it is gratifying to know that I am in good company, most people would not have mentioned it.” She let out a breath. “It does, of course, prove that you’re nothing like most people.”
“Granted,” he replied. “If I may give the order?”
“You may.”
“Lieutenant Polva,” he said, turning around to address Sarah. “You have the co-ordinates logged?”
“I do indeed, sir.”
“Then, if there’s nothing else going on, kindly put your foot down.”
“It seems he can’t give a straight order,” Caltaya muttered to David.
The Mican put himself on tiptoes so he could reply in the negative to his employer. “The orders are completely straight,” he confided, “it’s just the phrasing that’s off-kilter. They’ll do the job.”
“Of course. But I should go consult with their science department. I understand Commander Zowaix is anxious to meet me.”
Zowaix was, indeed, happy to meet him to discuss what was needed for the test, his experiences investigating alien soils in the Bellaphron mission, the Professors’ terraforming history and several academics they both knew and didn’t much like.
“I’ve never seen the Chief so happy,” Goole confessed to David, watching as the unnaturally smiling and chirpy. “It’s positively weird.” His tail flicked with nerves.
“You get used to it, Darik,” the detective confided, remembering the Feline science Officer’s name from his prior visits.
“Not sure I want to,” he replied before trying to keep up with the Chief and his guest whilst wondering if Zowaix would let him into his office to remove the books written by the Celican before the Celican got to see them. Not to mention the picture on the digimonitor… He decided to do it anyhow. If he got the chance. Zowaix could only discipline him and he’d probably do that anyway. “We know the regulations and the operational parameters,” he reminded David. “Everything else is just fine tuning.”
“Yeah, but things can fall out of tune if not calibrated,” David replied.
“Match,” Hawle asked the bridge science officer, “hat do you think are the chances of success for this mission?”
The Raitchian turned in his seat. “He’s one of the smartest there is. And, looking at the readouts, I’d say this has a good chance of success if things go to plan.”
“When have things ever gone to plan,” Hawle asked. “Never mind. Rhetorical. Anyway, when it comes to it, I want you to launch the thing with the Professor.”
Match almost fell off his chair. “M...me? W...why, sir? Shouldn’t it just be the Professor?”
“I’ll discuss it with him. I just think it’d be appropriate.” He quirked an eyeridge. “A Match to light the flame?”
Match groaned. So did Sarina.
15
Hawle stood on the bridge, facing the star spotted visage of space they were about to enter with some sort of trepidation. President Havakar, Professor Caltaya and David Brunton were with him as Hawle thought of a way to deal with the speech he’d have to make before they left Council space. OK. He had a thought. “Before you put us on shipwide, Dawton, you should know it’ll be the same speech I made a couple of years back when we ended up rescuing the Bellaphron.” He shrugged as he saw the Human’s shoulders sag. “It’ll pretty much be word for word. I know everyone’s heard it before and it’ll bore them to tears but…”
Hawle heard a cough behind him. “If you want me to make the speech, Captain,” the old Vixen said with strength of resignation, “all you have to do is ask.”
Hawle turned to her and bowed theatrically. “If you could take this burden, ma’am.”
“I’ll burden you if you keep this up,” she grumbled but Hawle couldn’t help but see the twinkle in her eye. “Any really good politician can make up a short speech on the fly. When you’re ready.”
“O.K.,” Hawle replied, gesturing to Dawton. “Lock out the prisoner’s room. Otherwise, put us on shipwide, David.”
“You’re on.”
“Better be,” Hawle muttered, “or I’m talking to myself.” He raised his voice. “Your attention please. This is your Captain speaking. As of now, we are parked right at the very edge of United Security Council space. As is in statute we have the right to make a speech to mark the occasion but today I have decided to forgo the speech…” he waited a few seconds, knowing several of his crew would now relax, thinking the danger was over. “...so I handed the privilege to President Havakar. Attend to her words and pay attention. Unless you’re doing something dangerous.” He turned towards her, standing to attention and gesturing behind his back that Stikka and Raven should do the same. “Madame President.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, before starting as she remembered her error. “Never mind. Best foot forward. I couldn’t have imagined,” she proceeded, “when I started my retirement cruise, the paths I’d end up taking and the things I’d end up being part of. I imagine it’s the same for most of you. But that’s life, it seems. We stand here, now, looking to expand our horizons and the knowledge of the universe. It’s all any of us has ever looked to do in our ways. Expanding and extending the hand in friendship whilst acknowledging the risks. We are out here on a great endeavour, regardless of success. We will help shape the future in these next few days. I cannot think of many people I would rather be with, doing this. Your Commander has trust in you. Your control has trust in you. I have trust in you. So let us put our best feet forward and bring the future to the present. Thank you for your time.” She nodded to Hawle who stayed at attention but pointed at Dawton, who closed the line. Hawle stayed as he was. “Why are you still standing like that?” Professor Caltaya stepped over and whispered into her ear. “Oh,” she replied, “I had forgotten.” She saluted back and half the command staff sagged in relief as they were able to release their salute. “It has been a while since I had to inspect the troops. Are we ready to move out, Commander?”
“Of course,” Hawle told her. “And everyone makes the error with Commander and Captain to start with, Ma’am.”
She looked at him archly. “whilst it is gratifying to know that I am in good company, most people would not have mentioned it.” She let out a breath. “It does, of course, prove that you’re nothing like most people.”
“Granted,” he replied. “If I may give the order?”
“You may.”
“Lieutenant Polva,” he said, turning around to address Sarah. “You have the co-ordinates logged?”
“I do indeed, sir.”
“Then, if there’s nothing else going on, kindly put your foot down.”
“It seems he can’t give a straight order,” Caltaya muttered to David.
The Mican put himself on tiptoes so he could reply in the negative to his employer. “The orders are completely straight,” he confided, “it’s just the phrasing that’s off-kilter. They’ll do the job.”
“Of course. But I should go consult with their science department. I understand Commander Zowaix is anxious to meet me.”
Zowaix was, indeed, happy to meet him to discuss what was needed for the test, his experiences investigating alien soils in the Bellaphron mission, the Professors’ terraforming history and several academics they both knew and didn’t much like.
“I’ve never seen the Chief so happy,” Goole confessed to David, watching as the unnaturally smiling and chirpy. “It’s positively weird.” His tail flicked with nerves.
“You get used to it, Darik,” the detective confided, remembering the Feline science Officer’s name from his prior visits.
“Not sure I want to,” he replied before trying to keep up with the Chief and his guest whilst wondering if Zowaix would let him into his office to remove the books written by the Celican before the Celican got to see them. Not to mention the picture on the digimonitor… He decided to do it anyhow. If he got the chance. Zowaix could only discipline him and he’d probably do that anyway. “We know the regulations and the operational parameters,” he reminded David. “Everything else is just fine tuning.”
“Yeah, but things can fall out of tune if not calibrated,” David replied.
“Match,” Hawle asked the bridge science officer, “hat do you think are the chances of success for this mission?”
The Raitchian turned in his seat. “He’s one of the smartest there is. And, looking at the readouts, I’d say this has a good chance of success if things go to plan.”
“When have things ever gone to plan,” Hawle asked. “Never mind. Rhetorical. Anyway, when it comes to it, I want you to launch the thing with the Professor.”
Match almost fell off his chair. “M...me? W...why, sir? Shouldn’t it just be the Professor?”
“I’ll discuss it with him. I just think it’d be appropriate.” He quirked an eyeridge. “A Match to light the flame?”
Match groaned. So did Sarina.
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Aldair may like to ignore them and push his responsibilities to the very last minute but at least he gets them done. That is more than most people I know who just ignore them.
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
And they're here. At the test zone. Of course it can't be this simple...
16
A brown, craggy, lump of rock some three hundred thousand kilometres wide lay in front of the Loper on the screen at five times magnification from almost a million miles away. Hawle was expecting obstacles. Interference. Someone trying to say ‘get aay from our lawn’ by trying to blast holes in them but nothing. There was no life on the dead planets this dead sun had left to go cold and stale. No barely functioning satellites to interest them. The third planet showed signs of once having a civilization but, like the star, it had gone out long ago. They’d send teams down to examine it after the experiment. It was just going to be fire and…
“I’m picking something up,” Dawton said hesitantly, making Hawle cringe with the timing. “It’s weak but…”
“Is it Council,” Hawle asked.
“I don’t think so but…”
“Then we don’t need to deal with it,” Hawle remarked, before pausing. “But what?” He knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “It’s coming from right in front of us, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Dawton nodded.
“It’s not a radiation echo,” Match put in, answering before he was asked precisely because he knew he was going to be asked. “I’m tracking it now.”
The door opened to admit the Professor and the President with their entourage to watch the ceremony. They looked on the scene with something akin to reverence. “Accacel Diricana,” Caltaya enthused. “Quite something, isn’t she? Seven planets in her system, including two in the gold zone. Worlds that could be made habitable if the protomatter does it’s magic. This could be quite the step forward. Quite the feather in the cap, as I believe Human’s say?”
Sarah had the distinct feeling the Professor was waiting for either her or David to reply in the affirmative. She waited a second for him to say anything before replying, in near concert with David, that she’d heard it once or twice..
“Uh,” the Professor asked anxiously, “might I ask why we don’t seem to be proceeding?”
“It’s a minor problem,” Hawle advised. “We’ve got an anomalous signal coming in from somewhere close to the sun. We’re trying to track it down.”
The Professor strode to the science station and repeated the question Hawle hadn’t asked about background radiation and got the same reply from Match. “It’s fairly weak,” he added. “It might be automated but we’re needing to be sure of… I think I have it,” He brought it up on his monitor. “What is that,” he asked as the Professor did his best to zoom in.
“I think we need to put this on the big screen,” Caltaya told the Raitchian.
“Do I get a say,” Hawle asked, rhetorically.
“No.”
A yellow speck appeared on the screen, orbiting the star at minimum safe distance. “Strictly speaking,” Raven said, “that ship can’t be there. Its orbit should have decayed long ago.”
They heard a gasp from behind them and the crew turned to look at Sarafina, even as her mother did the same. “That…” She pointed at the screen, her hand shaking notably as her voice trembled. “I think that’s a Fawren 14!”
Hawle stopped for a second. His mind whirled. “Stikka,” he said simply.
The Racon tapped his temple to activate his wireless connection. Accessing the historical databases now,” he reported. “Confirmed. The silhouette matches that of a Fawren 14 cruiser from 22452 to 22471. Superseded by the 15. All 14’s destroyed during…”
“The Prey wars,” Hawle said, keeping his face deadly straight. “Two Hundred and thirteen years ago.”
“They…” Sarafina thought hard. She’d studied the ship during a history of war course she’d studied on the net and they’d talked on the limited reports there were on this thing. “They couldn’t run out of power,” she told the room hesitantly. “The ship was able to take some power out of it’s own momentum and radiation to charge the power banks. It was impressive but, um, the technology was lost as all the ships were destroyed and Fawren’s construction yards were blown up in, um…”
“22470,” Brunton grunted, remembering an event he’d never experienced with disgust. “Not one of Celica’s most honourable days.”
“Aaaanyway,” Hawle drawled quickly, dragging attention back from the past, “it explains how but not why. Why’s this ship here, some three thousand light years from the war and two hundred years late?”
“We could go over,” Match advised. “The power bank has the shields still operating on minimal power.” He sighed. “No life support though.”
“I’ll admit,” Caltaya said with awe, “it would be interesting to see it.”
Hawle looked pensive, then made up his mind. “Raven, you have the bridge. I’m going to assemble a squad. Match? You’re not on it. I need you here.”
Match looked at him in confusion as Raven demanded to know what he was doing. Hawle pointed an ear at the screen. “That’s from the prey wars. Some Grainivore and Lappinean ships had a protocol if the computer detected predators on the ship. Activate self destruct. The Captain or Command crew had to use their override codes. Gilly can get around that, I’m sure. I need to speak with Katara.” So saying, he headed off the bridge.
Katara was concerned when the Rabbit at large turned up on her doorstep. He wasn’t usually one to leave the bridge so what was he doing down here. Had she done something wrong? She stood ready to hit him. Then she relaxed when he told her why he was there. “OK,” she said. “Let’s do this the simple way.” She raised her voice. “Who knows the most about historical Mican ships?” Four hands shot up. She discounted Jan for being Human as she wasn’t sure if the computer could identify that she was about as predatory as a vol-au-vent. Choosing from the Mican and the Raitchian, she pulled up their files and identified that Paulby the Raitchian had it as a hobby but the Mican called Phelicity Kendal had minored in historical Engineering at university and passed with a 2.2. “Phelicity,” Katara announced, “get kitted up and replicate a power unit that can charge up a Fawren 14.”
“Of course. Why?”
“Because we’ve found one,” Hawle announced, drawing a gasp from the female before he headed off to get Gilly from the Computer Department and Fuze from medical. He commed the bridge. “Raven, quick thought. Ask Brunton if he wants to come. I’ll get Jaqui and Maze.”
His team was complete.
16
A brown, craggy, lump of rock some three hundred thousand kilometres wide lay in front of the Loper on the screen at five times magnification from almost a million miles away. Hawle was expecting obstacles. Interference. Someone trying to say ‘get aay from our lawn’ by trying to blast holes in them but nothing. There was no life on the dead planets this dead sun had left to go cold and stale. No barely functioning satellites to interest them. The third planet showed signs of once having a civilization but, like the star, it had gone out long ago. They’d send teams down to examine it after the experiment. It was just going to be fire and…
“I’m picking something up,” Dawton said hesitantly, making Hawle cringe with the timing. “It’s weak but…”
“Is it Council,” Hawle asked.
“I don’t think so but…”
“Then we don’t need to deal with it,” Hawle remarked, before pausing. “But what?” He knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “It’s coming from right in front of us, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Dawton nodded.
“It’s not a radiation echo,” Match put in, answering before he was asked precisely because he knew he was going to be asked. “I’m tracking it now.”
The door opened to admit the Professor and the President with their entourage to watch the ceremony. They looked on the scene with something akin to reverence. “Accacel Diricana,” Caltaya enthused. “Quite something, isn’t she? Seven planets in her system, including two in the gold zone. Worlds that could be made habitable if the protomatter does it’s magic. This could be quite the step forward. Quite the feather in the cap, as I believe Human’s say?”
Sarah had the distinct feeling the Professor was waiting for either her or David to reply in the affirmative. She waited a second for him to say anything before replying, in near concert with David, that she’d heard it once or twice..
“Uh,” the Professor asked anxiously, “might I ask why we don’t seem to be proceeding?”
“It’s a minor problem,” Hawle advised. “We’ve got an anomalous signal coming in from somewhere close to the sun. We’re trying to track it down.”
The Professor strode to the science station and repeated the question Hawle hadn’t asked about background radiation and got the same reply from Match. “It’s fairly weak,” he added. “It might be automated but we’re needing to be sure of… I think I have it,” He brought it up on his monitor. “What is that,” he asked as the Professor did his best to zoom in.
“I think we need to put this on the big screen,” Caltaya told the Raitchian.
“Do I get a say,” Hawle asked, rhetorically.
“No.”
A yellow speck appeared on the screen, orbiting the star at minimum safe distance. “Strictly speaking,” Raven said, “that ship can’t be there. Its orbit should have decayed long ago.”
They heard a gasp from behind them and the crew turned to look at Sarafina, even as her mother did the same. “That…” She pointed at the screen, her hand shaking notably as her voice trembled. “I think that’s a Fawren 14!”
Hawle stopped for a second. His mind whirled. “Stikka,” he said simply.
The Racon tapped his temple to activate his wireless connection. Accessing the historical databases now,” he reported. “Confirmed. The silhouette matches that of a Fawren 14 cruiser from 22452 to 22471. Superseded by the 15. All 14’s destroyed during…”
“The Prey wars,” Hawle said, keeping his face deadly straight. “Two Hundred and thirteen years ago.”
“They…” Sarafina thought hard. She’d studied the ship during a history of war course she’d studied on the net and they’d talked on the limited reports there were on this thing. “They couldn’t run out of power,” she told the room hesitantly. “The ship was able to take some power out of it’s own momentum and radiation to charge the power banks. It was impressive but, um, the technology was lost as all the ships were destroyed and Fawren’s construction yards were blown up in, um…”
“22470,” Brunton grunted, remembering an event he’d never experienced with disgust. “Not one of Celica’s most honourable days.”
“Aaaanyway,” Hawle drawled quickly, dragging attention back from the past, “it explains how but not why. Why’s this ship here, some three thousand light years from the war and two hundred years late?”
“We could go over,” Match advised. “The power bank has the shields still operating on minimal power.” He sighed. “No life support though.”
“I’ll admit,” Caltaya said with awe, “it would be interesting to see it.”
Hawle looked pensive, then made up his mind. “Raven, you have the bridge. I’m going to assemble a squad. Match? You’re not on it. I need you here.”
Match looked at him in confusion as Raven demanded to know what he was doing. Hawle pointed an ear at the screen. “That’s from the prey wars. Some Grainivore and Lappinean ships had a protocol if the computer detected predators on the ship. Activate self destruct. The Captain or Command crew had to use their override codes. Gilly can get around that, I’m sure. I need to speak with Katara.” So saying, he headed off the bridge.
Katara was concerned when the Rabbit at large turned up on her doorstep. He wasn’t usually one to leave the bridge so what was he doing down here. Had she done something wrong? She stood ready to hit him. Then she relaxed when he told her why he was there. “OK,” she said. “Let’s do this the simple way.” She raised her voice. “Who knows the most about historical Mican ships?” Four hands shot up. She discounted Jan for being Human as she wasn’t sure if the computer could identify that she was about as predatory as a vol-au-vent. Choosing from the Mican and the Raitchian, she pulled up their files and identified that Paulby the Raitchian had it as a hobby but the Mican called Phelicity Kendal had minored in historical Engineering at university and passed with a 2.2. “Phelicity,” Katara announced, “get kitted up and replicate a power unit that can charge up a Fawren 14.”
“Of course. Why?”
“Because we’ve found one,” Hawle announced, drawing a gasp from the female before he headed off to get Gilly from the Computer Department and Fuze from medical. He commed the bridge. “Raven, quick thought. Ask Brunton if he wants to come. I’ll get Jaqui and Maze.”
His team was complete.
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
Oh boy I wonder what could be on the spaceship that should have been destroyed and not have life on it. Maybe they will finally get to meet a bunch of aliens that will want to suck the marrow from their bones. LOL
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
It does give me a chance to go a little into the history of an oft mentioned but never seen conflict...
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
17
The signal faded away as the team in department armours arrived in the cold, darkened, room. A single light flickered on the wall, casting shadows of the six whose movement broke the silence. Hawle opened up his helmet light, twin glows from the cheeks lancing out in a gentle beam that showed the dust in the air ahead of him. The headset showed everyone else was with him and he knew they were despite the fact he couldn’t see their faces behind their visors as the lights played over the consoles. Gilly stepped over to the teleport console to see if it had any linkages with the main computer. Hawle doubted it would have. He didn’t think ship computers had networking capabilities back then. He said nothing though. He wasn’t a computer technician. The door remained shut when he approached and he chastised himself as he realised it was a door, not a movable bulkhead type opening. He reached out for it but Jaqui slapped his armoured hand and told him to get back with the others in case it was trapped somehow. Hawle nodded and took the others to the back wall, including a protesting Gilly.
Jaqui ran passive scans through her systems to see if anything was mounted on the other side of the door. It was known to happen during the war. Teleport systems were less advanced so they tended to lock on to the receiving ships’ teleport room to make sure the person coming over didn’t intersect a bulkhead or floor. It meant you knew where the enemy was coming to. She read the scan results and it didn’t indicate anything on the other side but that didn’t preclude the simple grenade attached to the door trick. She opened the door a crack and put two fingers around the crack as it opened next to the wall and there was no other way for her to see. The camera in the tip of the middle finger used the light cast by the index finger to show there was nothing attached to the door at any height so she pulled the door open carefully, ready to hop if anything went ‘click’. The door protested as it was woken from its two century slumber and asked for ten more minutes to wake up that Jaqui wasn’t going to give it.
The Engineer, Phelicity, told the group that it indicated some amount of life support was still in play here as the hinges had rusted and it needed air for that. Brunton asked her why she’d not scanned for atmosphere and she snapped back that no-one had told her to. Bazil, for his part, moved over to an alcove to examine some mould. He told them that it was interesting as it meant there was some sort of biological life in play here, probably dripping down from the vents, which this thing was under. He took a sample and checked its biological make-up. It appeared to emit something close to nitrogen, according to him and, he added quickly, it meant that no-one should take their helmets off. There was too much nitrogen in the atmosphere right now.
They stepped out into a passageway that was pockmarked with mould and flickering lights. Hawle, having decided against breaking up the group, made the decision they needed to head to engineering first. Brunton mentioned it was that he wanted the lights on. Pretty much, Hawle agreed, crouching next to a dessicated body, lying against a wall with a scorched hole in his chest. Gilly didn’t want to look but Bazil placed the sensors on his palm to the side of the figure’s cheek to obtain a sample of genetics for scanning the records later. Everyone needed identification as far as he was concerned. The figure slipped sideways slightly, a bone breaking softly with the movement, revealing the figures sidearm on the floor. The power reading was at three percent. Jaqui was impressed. She knew about the power cycling facility but two hundred years was impressive.
There were more of them in the engineering section, at least five more that they could see and Phelicity stopped the group as her sensors detected a low level scanning beam sweeping over them. She indicated it had finished and Hawle breathed out again. He had to assume it was doing a biology scan and he seriously hoped the systems hadn’t degraded badly enough to mistake a Lappinean for a Feline. No bang. That was good. Of course it might just be that the bomb was slowly ticking down. Or the fuse was frayed. But at least it proved the power was still on. He advised that Gilly needed to be linked to the computer before the system was powered up. He wanted a proper warning if the computer was going to do something suicidal as soon as it powered up. They’d come in to the teleport bay because the system was able to lock on to the homing pads through the radiation due to the metals used in the construction and they’d need to be back there for beam out. Any prior warning enabled leg it time. Gilly linked up using a bridge programme she’d downloaded and tweaked to impersonate Fawren computer codes of the time and shunted the power input system from being reliant on the ship to her suit for the moment. When things were back up and running she’d trip a digital switch to return the power feed to the mains.
Brunton asked if things were about to explode. Maze told him not to be a negative Nellie and she leaned against the doorframe as Gilly gave them a thumbs up that she was in the system and hadn’t found any boobytraps in the first ten seconds. The codes she had seemed to have unlocked the files and disarmed anything that might be a bit naughty that she knew about. Of course, Hawle thought, that just left the ones she didn’t know about. He wished he could have had Harvey here but the Jondahl hadn’t been found at the time of the war so his biology would be unknown and, frankly, he’d guessed they’d be scanned but he’d thought the computer would have done that back in the teleport bay. Did that mean sensors were down in areas that weren’t considered primary areas? Possibly. They’d soon find out. Phelicity was trickling power back into the main system. She complained she was having to drip feed it so as to not overload it. Gilly called them over. She had a video record. The last images from the bridge.
She brought it up and, through the damage of ages and snow, they watched as scratchy dialogued Micans looked confused and concerned about something that must just have happened judging by what they were saying about ‘anomalies’ and ‘charts’ and ‘studies’ amongst the flowing tears and fears and bodies. The group turned to look at the screen as something was obviously happening outside. Perhaps, Brunton said, they were just realising they were close to a dead sun? It seemed not. The picture changed to show grizzled, static ridden space and a sleek, dart shaped ship with no obvious windows that the Captain told the computer to track.
Of the group, Hawle, Maze and Bazil stiffened. They’d seen this thing before. They knew what the communications officer was going to announce it had said to the bridge crew. They were almost right. It didn’t say ‘this is ours’. It said ‘you are ours’. And then a bright light took everything living from the bridge...
The signal faded away as the team in department armours arrived in the cold, darkened, room. A single light flickered on the wall, casting shadows of the six whose movement broke the silence. Hawle opened up his helmet light, twin glows from the cheeks lancing out in a gentle beam that showed the dust in the air ahead of him. The headset showed everyone else was with him and he knew they were despite the fact he couldn’t see their faces behind their visors as the lights played over the consoles. Gilly stepped over to the teleport console to see if it had any linkages with the main computer. Hawle doubted it would have. He didn’t think ship computers had networking capabilities back then. He said nothing though. He wasn’t a computer technician. The door remained shut when he approached and he chastised himself as he realised it was a door, not a movable bulkhead type opening. He reached out for it but Jaqui slapped his armoured hand and told him to get back with the others in case it was trapped somehow. Hawle nodded and took the others to the back wall, including a protesting Gilly.
Jaqui ran passive scans through her systems to see if anything was mounted on the other side of the door. It was known to happen during the war. Teleport systems were less advanced so they tended to lock on to the receiving ships’ teleport room to make sure the person coming over didn’t intersect a bulkhead or floor. It meant you knew where the enemy was coming to. She read the scan results and it didn’t indicate anything on the other side but that didn’t preclude the simple grenade attached to the door trick. She opened the door a crack and put two fingers around the crack as it opened next to the wall and there was no other way for her to see. The camera in the tip of the middle finger used the light cast by the index finger to show there was nothing attached to the door at any height so she pulled the door open carefully, ready to hop if anything went ‘click’. The door protested as it was woken from its two century slumber and asked for ten more minutes to wake up that Jaqui wasn’t going to give it.
The Engineer, Phelicity, told the group that it indicated some amount of life support was still in play here as the hinges had rusted and it needed air for that. Brunton asked her why she’d not scanned for atmosphere and she snapped back that no-one had told her to. Bazil, for his part, moved over to an alcove to examine some mould. He told them that it was interesting as it meant there was some sort of biological life in play here, probably dripping down from the vents, which this thing was under. He took a sample and checked its biological make-up. It appeared to emit something close to nitrogen, according to him and, he added quickly, it meant that no-one should take their helmets off. There was too much nitrogen in the atmosphere right now.
They stepped out into a passageway that was pockmarked with mould and flickering lights. Hawle, having decided against breaking up the group, made the decision they needed to head to engineering first. Brunton mentioned it was that he wanted the lights on. Pretty much, Hawle agreed, crouching next to a dessicated body, lying against a wall with a scorched hole in his chest. Gilly didn’t want to look but Bazil placed the sensors on his palm to the side of the figure’s cheek to obtain a sample of genetics for scanning the records later. Everyone needed identification as far as he was concerned. The figure slipped sideways slightly, a bone breaking softly with the movement, revealing the figures sidearm on the floor. The power reading was at three percent. Jaqui was impressed. She knew about the power cycling facility but two hundred years was impressive.
There were more of them in the engineering section, at least five more that they could see and Phelicity stopped the group as her sensors detected a low level scanning beam sweeping over them. She indicated it had finished and Hawle breathed out again. He had to assume it was doing a biology scan and he seriously hoped the systems hadn’t degraded badly enough to mistake a Lappinean for a Feline. No bang. That was good. Of course it might just be that the bomb was slowly ticking down. Or the fuse was frayed. But at least it proved the power was still on. He advised that Gilly needed to be linked to the computer before the system was powered up. He wanted a proper warning if the computer was going to do something suicidal as soon as it powered up. They’d come in to the teleport bay because the system was able to lock on to the homing pads through the radiation due to the metals used in the construction and they’d need to be back there for beam out. Any prior warning enabled leg it time. Gilly linked up using a bridge programme she’d downloaded and tweaked to impersonate Fawren computer codes of the time and shunted the power input system from being reliant on the ship to her suit for the moment. When things were back up and running she’d trip a digital switch to return the power feed to the mains.
Brunton asked if things were about to explode. Maze told him not to be a negative Nellie and she leaned against the doorframe as Gilly gave them a thumbs up that she was in the system and hadn’t found any boobytraps in the first ten seconds. The codes she had seemed to have unlocked the files and disarmed anything that might be a bit naughty that she knew about. Of course, Hawle thought, that just left the ones she didn’t know about. He wished he could have had Harvey here but the Jondahl hadn’t been found at the time of the war so his biology would be unknown and, frankly, he’d guessed they’d be scanned but he’d thought the computer would have done that back in the teleport bay. Did that mean sensors were down in areas that weren’t considered primary areas? Possibly. They’d soon find out. Phelicity was trickling power back into the main system. She complained she was having to drip feed it so as to not overload it. Gilly called them over. She had a video record. The last images from the bridge.
She brought it up and, through the damage of ages and snow, they watched as scratchy dialogued Micans looked confused and concerned about something that must just have happened judging by what they were saying about ‘anomalies’ and ‘charts’ and ‘studies’ amongst the flowing tears and fears and bodies. The group turned to look at the screen as something was obviously happening outside. Perhaps, Brunton said, they were just realising they were close to a dead sun? It seemed not. The picture changed to show grizzled, static ridden space and a sleek, dart shaped ship with no obvious windows that the Captain told the computer to track.
Of the group, Hawle, Maze and Bazil stiffened. They’d seen this thing before. They knew what the communications officer was going to announce it had said to the bridge crew. They were almost right. It didn’t say ‘this is ours’. It said ‘you are ours’. And then a bright light took everything living from the bridge...
- Amazee Dayzee
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
It seems that my theory of the ship having aliens on it is not too far off then. Especially if a bright flash teleported everybody from the bridge to God-knows where. LOL
- Welsh Halfwit
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Re: THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER
18
Nothing worked in here, Hawle realised, as they continued their route around the Mican ship. This was what was optimistically called the sickbay, he figured. Something to do with the observation beds and antique tools on trays besides them. There had been no air in here so they’d felt the whoosh of air slipping in before them as they’d broken the seal on the door to enter. They’d followed the same regimen set by Pangal in scanning and cracking open the door with the addition of a little bit of lockwork to unlock it. “Fuze,” Hawle asked, now they were in.
<“Checking,”> the Raitchian replied, activating his sensors. <“Minor contagions. Traces of Colrostirikka Pagrogcia in the air. Something of an outbreak possibly. Caused thrashing and foaming and paranoia. Back then it was often fatal but there’s several cures since then and it was eradicated twenty years back. Would indicate why the room was sealed.”>
“Suits to decontamination when we get back,” Hawle advised, looking over a figure that had been strapped to the bed. “Have to hope this guy was dead before the snatch,” he said. Maze asked why. “If he wasn’t dead before then,” Hawle remarked, “he was left strapped to the bed. Starving to death isn’t a way to go.” He looked up as the power began to increase the lighting level. It was on minimal right now. Kendall must be making progress. He’d left her with Jaqui, working in Engineering. Jaqui had protested that the ship was dead but he’d reminded her of that time Postain had boarded a space station that HE’D thought was dead, only to find survivors. She’d mentioned that was two years and this was two hundred but she accepted the point.
<“No mould in here,”> Brunton pointed out. <“Seems to prove they need oxygen or some other gas to spread.”>
“Possibly,” Hawle admitted. “Either way, we keep the suits on. Best case scenario is that it’s inert and no threat. Worst case scenario it’s toxic in a way we don’t yet understand.”
<“Erring towards caution. Good.”>
“USUAL scenario,” Hawle continued, “it’s sentient and tries to kill us.”
<“The computer system’s waking up,”> Fuze advised. <“It wants an access code.”>
Gilly moved him aside and put in the general medical access code she’d gotten from the Fawren historical database. She opined that it might have been corrupted as it struggled into life but it started putting out information that Fuze stated he couldn’t read clearly.
Gilly looked at it. <“It’sMican,”> she said, gesturing the Detective over. <“Can you, uh../”>
<“Like a native,”> the Detective replied with a grin. <“words have changed over two hundred years but it seems this is all boiler plate stuff. They sealed the room because of… what you said. The medical officer was… uh… confined here because of the exposure. His last recording indicates… They hit a wormhole. They were starting to assess the damage when… That’s when the record ends.”
<“I’m impressed by the resiliency of their computer systems,”> Bazil remarked. <“We’d lose a lot higher percentage of files with what we have now.”>
<“Redundant technological paths,”> Gilly put in,. <“Things needed to be resilient back them. A long time war. A lot of civilized rules go for a burton. The circuits are lined with Gadina ore. It’s a very effective insulation and never rots. It’s quite rare. Only found on a few planets. Rastidium in the Miran sector, for example.”>
“There isn’t a planet… That’s your point, isn’t it? They stripmined the place.”
<“Or the enemy blew the heck out of it. Or the Micans did to stop the enemy having it. Isn’t war beautiful?”>
“It produces intense poetry,” Hawle advised. “But it’s too much of a trade off. Kendall, any news on the engines?”
<“This ship might move again,”> the Mican put in, <“but, as well preserved as she appears to be, I wouldn’t try going to velocity speeds. When charged she can do a max of 1.7 by the way. I need Gilly back to work some computers.”>
“1.7,” Hawle repeated, putting a gloved hand to the wall as Gilly left. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, old girl?”
<“Talking to the ship, I hope.”>
By the time they stepped to the bridge, Gilly had managed to isolate communications from the Engineering interface and had a channel ready to open to the Loper. “Check it for viruses and booby traps first, Gilly,” Hawle advised. “Sarah showed me a cartoon Star Tre…”
<“She showed me that series too, sir,”> Gilly interrupted. <“Unlikely but I see your point. I’ll do some scouring.”>
The lights flicked up a level again as Kendall worked. The computer scanned them again. More intensely this time. <“It’s getting more interested. Scanned you twice, Maze. Seems you have some predator in your heritage. Some… Wolven?”>
“Explains a lot,” Hawle muttered.
<“Great grandmother,”> she explained, <“and, if you’re saying I’m angry and violent, sir, I’ll thump you. I am perfectly sweet and delightful.”>
“Absolutely. Take the helm. Soon as we can move this thing I want it shifted. Two hundred year old controls. More akin to how a fighter operates than a Starship these days.”
<“Condescending but right,”> Maze said, moving over to the console, past a heap of rotted and dried meat that had been someone, long ago. Bazil took samples. The ship groaned. <“What was that about not moving fast,”> Maze asked.
Ten minutes passed in which Hawle tried to get the science station back online with some success. He wanted to see if they had any sensor readings on the dart that had abducted them. He gave passing thought to when the thing had gone from stealing people to stealing physical things. These things were getting annoying and he had a feeling they needed to start dealing with them. If this ship’s sensors wee still working, even on minimum power, they might have something they could trace. Or the system might tell something about how it got there.
He almost bonked his head on the underside of the console when Gilly told him the line was clear and Hawle pulled himself up and over to the mould stained console. He patched his suit into the system and spoke. “Hawle to Raven,” he said through the static. “Are you receiving?”
<“Raven here,”> she replied. <“Situation, sir?”>
“She’s old but still alive. They built these to last.”
<“But not to fight, Is visual down?”>
“We’re going on tiptoes here, Sarina.”
<“You may want to speed up. We’re picking something up on extreme long range. And it’s heading this way.”>
Nothing worked in here, Hawle realised, as they continued their route around the Mican ship. This was what was optimistically called the sickbay, he figured. Something to do with the observation beds and antique tools on trays besides them. There had been no air in here so they’d felt the whoosh of air slipping in before them as they’d broken the seal on the door to enter. They’d followed the same regimen set by Pangal in scanning and cracking open the door with the addition of a little bit of lockwork to unlock it. “Fuze,” Hawle asked, now they were in.
<“Checking,”> the Raitchian replied, activating his sensors. <“Minor contagions. Traces of Colrostirikka Pagrogcia in the air. Something of an outbreak possibly. Caused thrashing and foaming and paranoia. Back then it was often fatal but there’s several cures since then and it was eradicated twenty years back. Would indicate why the room was sealed.”>
“Suits to decontamination when we get back,” Hawle advised, looking over a figure that had been strapped to the bed. “Have to hope this guy was dead before the snatch,” he said. Maze asked why. “If he wasn’t dead before then,” Hawle remarked, “he was left strapped to the bed. Starving to death isn’t a way to go.” He looked up as the power began to increase the lighting level. It was on minimal right now. Kendall must be making progress. He’d left her with Jaqui, working in Engineering. Jaqui had protested that the ship was dead but he’d reminded her of that time Postain had boarded a space station that HE’D thought was dead, only to find survivors. She’d mentioned that was two years and this was two hundred but she accepted the point.
<“No mould in here,”> Brunton pointed out. <“Seems to prove they need oxygen or some other gas to spread.”>
“Possibly,” Hawle admitted. “Either way, we keep the suits on. Best case scenario is that it’s inert and no threat. Worst case scenario it’s toxic in a way we don’t yet understand.”
<“Erring towards caution. Good.”>
“USUAL scenario,” Hawle continued, “it’s sentient and tries to kill us.”
<“The computer system’s waking up,”> Fuze advised. <“It wants an access code.”>
Gilly moved him aside and put in the general medical access code she’d gotten from the Fawren historical database. She opined that it might have been corrupted as it struggled into life but it started putting out information that Fuze stated he couldn’t read clearly.
Gilly looked at it. <“It’sMican,”> she said, gesturing the Detective over. <“Can you, uh../”>
<“Like a native,”> the Detective replied with a grin. <“words have changed over two hundred years but it seems this is all boiler plate stuff. They sealed the room because of… what you said. The medical officer was… uh… confined here because of the exposure. His last recording indicates… They hit a wormhole. They were starting to assess the damage when… That’s when the record ends.”
<“I’m impressed by the resiliency of their computer systems,”> Bazil remarked. <“We’d lose a lot higher percentage of files with what we have now.”>
<“Redundant technological paths,”> Gilly put in,. <“Things needed to be resilient back them. A long time war. A lot of civilized rules go for a burton. The circuits are lined with Gadina ore. It’s a very effective insulation and never rots. It’s quite rare. Only found on a few planets. Rastidium in the Miran sector, for example.”>
“There isn’t a planet… That’s your point, isn’t it? They stripmined the place.”
<“Or the enemy blew the heck out of it. Or the Micans did to stop the enemy having it. Isn’t war beautiful?”>
“It produces intense poetry,” Hawle advised. “But it’s too much of a trade off. Kendall, any news on the engines?”
<“This ship might move again,”> the Mican put in, <“but, as well preserved as she appears to be, I wouldn’t try going to velocity speeds. When charged she can do a max of 1.7 by the way. I need Gilly back to work some computers.”>
“1.7,” Hawle repeated, putting a gloved hand to the wall as Gilly left. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, old girl?”
<“Talking to the ship, I hope.”>
By the time they stepped to the bridge, Gilly had managed to isolate communications from the Engineering interface and had a channel ready to open to the Loper. “Check it for viruses and booby traps first, Gilly,” Hawle advised. “Sarah showed me a cartoon Star Tre…”
<“She showed me that series too, sir,”> Gilly interrupted. <“Unlikely but I see your point. I’ll do some scouring.”>
The lights flicked up a level again as Kendall worked. The computer scanned them again. More intensely this time. <“It’s getting more interested. Scanned you twice, Maze. Seems you have some predator in your heritage. Some… Wolven?”>
“Explains a lot,” Hawle muttered.
<“Great grandmother,”> she explained, <“and, if you’re saying I’m angry and violent, sir, I’ll thump you. I am perfectly sweet and delightful.”>
“Absolutely. Take the helm. Soon as we can move this thing I want it shifted. Two hundred year old controls. More akin to how a fighter operates than a Starship these days.”
<“Condescending but right,”> Maze said, moving over to the console, past a heap of rotted and dried meat that had been someone, long ago. Bazil took samples. The ship groaned. <“What was that about not moving fast,”> Maze asked.
Ten minutes passed in which Hawle tried to get the science station back online with some success. He wanted to see if they had any sensor readings on the dart that had abducted them. He gave passing thought to when the thing had gone from stealing people to stealing physical things. These things were getting annoying and he had a feeling they needed to start dealing with them. If this ship’s sensors wee still working, even on minimum power, they might have something they could trace. Or the system might tell something about how it got there.
He almost bonked his head on the underside of the console when Gilly told him the line was clear and Hawle pulled himself up and over to the mould stained console. He patched his suit into the system and spoke. “Hawle to Raven,” he said through the static. “Are you receiving?”
<“Raven here,”> she replied. <“Situation, sir?”>
“She’s old but still alive. They built these to last.”
<“But not to fight, Is visual down?”>
“We’re going on tiptoes here, Sarina.”
<“You may want to speed up. We’re picking something up on extreme long range. And it’s heading this way.”>