December 2023. While test-driving its latest accomplishment, the Nekomi Motor Club finds something unexpected

Quote:“Thousands of tons of armour and guns
Making it's way through the sand.”

Mackie was grinning. It was a savage, visceral grin, driven by the beat of the music blaring inside the turret, ringing off the steel walls and gun-breech. He sat in what had been the gunner’s chair - now surrounded by various viewscreens giving him detailed readouts of engine performance. Full-throttle, hard-charge, let’s see what this beast can do.

Both turbines screamed as the tank began to climb up the lip of a small crater.

“Our panzer battalion is back for revenge
Artillery sweeping the land”

The old T-72 pushed on, driving far harder than its Soviet builders had ever intended - pushing on through magnificent desolation no factory worker had ever expected it to see. He felt himself go light in the chair as the tank crested the lip before pitching nose down into the crated beyond

He pressed his eyes to the periscopes in time to see a bow-wave of grey lunar dust wash up over the bow of the battle tank, momentarily obscuring the headlight before splashing against the periscope glass. Hydro-pneumatic suspension creaked as it took the weight of near 55 tons of steel driving down into the crater floor.

“WOO-HOO!”

Leena - the driver - howled over the intercom, momentarily drowning out the best efforts of Sabaton. Mackie couldn’t help but laugh. This was why he’d been born.

“First strike is ours no mercy is shown
There's rivers of blood in our trail”

In the turret with him was Oezaki - team leader for the Motor-club. He was almost too tall for the Commander’s seat. He sat stooped over, helmetless except for a tight leather cap that did little good. A few strands of blond hair crept out from underneath.

“Turn left, turn left. We got a boulder ahead.”

The tank crashed into it. His skull cracked off the cupola lip.

“Fuckit Leena, you want to crack an axle out here? We just got this beast running again.”

“Sorry Oezaki. Thought you meant the other boulder.”

She was giggling. Mackie could hear it. Oezaki grimaced as he tenderly poked at a growing lump on his head. Mackie held up his hands in surrender, as if to say, ‘don’t blame me’. The tank wasn’t his idea - it was an accumulation of five year's worth final-year and graduate projects, mixed with some random fiddling by interested parties who had time to kill and an understanding professor. Using the powerplant from a Havoc maybe - he’d take the blame for that. But not the tank. Responsibility for Blownapart was shared by all.

"Breaking their lines of defence with our tanks
Infantry watching our back"

“Hey guys,” the radio crackled. Kone, back at Motor-club’s Kandor garage. He sounded bored as hell. “You having fun out there in Blownapart without us?”

Mackie paused the music. For a moment, the roar of the engines and the rattle of stones off the bottom of the armour was the only sound in the tank.

“Oh sure,” Oezaki answered. “Only Leena’s trying to kill us.”

“I am not! I’m just getting bad directions!”

The tanks frame shook as it pitched up once more. The pitch of the engines dropped as they strained against the mass of the machine, climbing back up the other side of the crater.

“Yeah, well, we need your performance data.”

Mackie flipped open his notepads, comparing his sketches with the instrument boards were telling him. It all looked good. It looked way-good.

“V-max, 162. V-av, 125. Fuel. 900 per hour. Transmission temps and suspension temps are green. Tell Dieork his dustguards are working. I think we’re good to push on to our turnpoint.”

He felt himself start shaking with excitement.

“Fuck it. Drive On,” Oezaki concurred, still massaging his tender forehead. A small seep of blood trickled from a shallow scratch.

“Aw man, I want a shot....”

“Too bad you suck at tankery!” Leena shot back. The crunch of another boulder crumbling under the inexorable tracks of the metal monstrosity added

“I didn’t park that car there!”

“Knock it off you two!” Oezaki cut in. “I don’t want to have to change crew. Not this close to the race”

“Sorry Daddy,” Leena groused.

“I’ll check in in an hour,” said Kone, flatly. “Out.”

The T-72 thundered on across the lunar surface, plowing its own furrow through virgin grey soil. Only the basic hull and turret structure had been kept from the original tank. Its engine had been replaced by a pair of fusion turbines, the life-support and cooling circuits had been overhauled to meet vacuum requirements and most of the seals had been replaced with ones that could tolerate moondust. Suspension was active-hydropneumatic, with reinforced bearings and torsion beams to take the extra speed. Someone had made an automatic CVT replacing the original manual, with an added control computer allowing for easy steering through a car-like wheel. The main gun still worked - if they had something to shoot through it, it'd fire at Lunar escape velocities.

It was, they club agreed, the perfect thing for the Armstrong Day classic this year, with a few buildup races in the preceding six months being enough to iron the last few bugs out. It wouldn't be the fastest over level ground - but was relentless in the rough stuff. It ate craters and boulders for breakfast, grinding along riding fountains of dust. Curls of moondust rolled around the exhausts, falling away from the engine dust-shields.

It was, Mackie felt, utterly unstoppable.

“Leena, Stop!”

The tracks dug into the dirt, pushing them all forwards in the seats. Oezaki’s skull met steel once more as Mackie struggled to keep his notes from tumbling across the turret floor.

“Okay, now that we can do an Emergency stop. Can we continue now?”

Oesaki pressed his face against the commander’s periscope “I thought I saw something metallic on my scope. Creep us ahead slow. Keep an eye out,”

“Nobody else is supposed to be out here,” said Mackie, checking with filed travel plans. Not that everyone made travel plans. He scanned through Kandors public records. “No crash records either, not within 50 kilometres.”

“I definitely saw it,” he said. “Let me try the searchlights.”

The transmission slammed back into gear, sending a shudder through the hull. The turbines whirred as the tank began to creep forwards. Spotlights swept out across the stark wasteland beyond, regolith glaring bright where the light passed over. Black shadows swung from every

Mackie stared forwards through the gunners periscopes. He saw nothing.

Nothing but moon and black space beyond.

“Holy crap! I see it!”

Leena’s voice in his ear made Mackie wince.

“Where?” Oezaki damanded. He might’ve tried

“30 degrees right,“ the driver answered. “Just ahead.”

“Gunsights,” said Mackie. He pressed one eye to the rubber guard around the eyepiece, taking hold of the turret controls with his free hand. Servomotors squealed as the turret slewed to the right. It seemed to make Oezaki dizzy for a moment...

Or maybe that was Leena’s driving and a concussion.

One of the searchlights reached out, tracking with the turret. He stared, watching the regolith pass through the reticle. Graded markings in cryllic told him where the shell would go if he squeezed the trigger.

Or if the tank’d been loaded with anything more than a few days worth of food and oxygen.

He caught a glimpse of it a moment, locking the reticle onto it a second later. He pressed a switch with his thumb to trigger the laser rangefinder.

“33 degrees right. Range. 50 metres,” he said.

“Stop us short, Leena. Guess well have to go out and take a look,” said Oezaki, already fumbling for his pressure mask and neck-seal.

It took time for them to prepare. They had basic bailout gear in case of an accident, or a hatch rupture - but it really wasn’t meant for long-term use. It was neither comfortable, nor stylish. But it did fit through the hatch.

It let them clamber up through onto the dust-coated hull, headlights casting a long bright pool. It was the only light they had. Both engines sat at idle, thin whisps of hot helium gas rising stirring dust around the exhaust outlets.

Leena clambered up out the the drivers compartment, using the barrel of the main gun to pull herself up. She was the shorted of the trio by far - and the only member of the Motor Club who’d actually fit in the driver’s seat.

Who wouldn’t back it up over an expensive resto-mod.

“It’s probably some asshole’s junk,” said Leena. She brushed the dust off her visor with the back of her glove, exhaling an angry sigh.

“Hopefully,” said Mackie. He bounded across the surface, boots kicking up whisps of dust. Above, a Gagarin passed overhead, boosting out from Korelvgrad. Earth was rising slowly over the horizon beyond.

“Still have to report it in if it’s not catalogued,” said Oezaki.

There were plenty of Fen who met their end silently. Many who disappeared without ever filing a flight plan, falling victim to mechanical mishap or space-junk impact. It might’ve been the gravesite of an unknown pilot.

All three of them felt that keenly. Even if they hoped otherwise.

It took about a minute for them to cross lunar surface. A few outlying pieces of wreckage had made it further, shards of grey metal shining as their torches passed over.

“Tin-foil?” asked Leena.

Mackie crouched down, take a sharp piece carefully in his glove. The edges had been twisted and folded back by the impact. It still buckled in his hand.

“It’s very flimsy,” he said, inspecting it closely. He held it in front of his faceplate. “Really not normal fen-stuff .”

He tossed it towards the rest of the wreckage. It landed in what was a shallow impact crater. So shallow in fact, that it scarcely deserved the description. It appeared as if the top layer of dust had been cleared away from the rock beneath, and that was it - leaving nothing but a ten-meter wide splatter of tin-foil, with various pieces of more solid junk strewn amongst it.

“It’s obviously a crash,” said Oezaki. “That looks like an engine bell.”

“I’ll get it,” said Leena. “There might be a serial number on it.”

Macie bounced around the wrecksite, scanning the debris. “Looks like it just sort of went splat, whatever it was..”

“No sign of a pilot, or anything that might’ve been a pilot,” said Oezaki. It was hard for him to hide the sound of relief in his voice. “Can’t find any sort of seat or....” he stopped dead.

“What is it?” asked Mackie. He felt his stomach curdle. He knew he didn’t technically have a stomach capable of curdling - but felt it nonetheless.

“A helmet,” said Oezaki. “Empty. Looks like parts of a spacesuit too.”

Yuk, thought Mackie. He crouched down, pickup up a piece of wreckage

“I’ve got control panel. Looks pretty old-school. All switches and stuff.”

He held it up. Tangles of wires hung from guarded toggle-switches. Markings on the panel had long since been baked off by sunlight.

“I’ve got the engine,” Leena called out. “Looks like a real old rocket motor. A small one.”

It was still much too bulky for one person to comfortably carry, despite having crumbled partially on impact.

“Guys,” Oezaki broke in. He held the helmet in his hands.

The visor had been smashed in and some of the fittings had been ruined. It’d split open across the back of the head when it’d hit the moon. But it was still recognisable.

“It’s NASA gear,”

Leena stared at him. “NASA?”

Mackie blinked. “Wait, what?”

“No doubt.” Oezaki’s voice had shrunk right down into his throat. Leena and Mackie stood there, coated in grey dust, eyes wide and waiting for an explanation. “And, I think I know what it is.”

“What?” asked Mackie.

“Look at the patch on the spacesuit,”

His voice was sombre. Shaking, stained by disbelief. They both bounced across the wrecksite, Mackie still carrying his piece of control panel. Oezaki beckoned them towards him, crouching down on his knees, placing the wrecked helmet on the ground.

Gingerly, he gripped a piece of the ruined grey spacesuit, offering his torch to it. They both crouched down on the regolith, taking care not to cut their pressure gear on the few remains shards of metal.

“So,” said Leena, calmly.

It’d been trashed, torn up in the impact, turned grey by the lunar dust and eaten by naked sunlight. Threads had unwound and frayed, exposing the layers underneath. Some had dried and cracked, flaking away as Oezaki angled it towards his light.

“Mission patch,” said Mackie.

“Look,” said Oezaki. Two more torches converged on small patch of fabric on what might once have been the shoulder. Barely visible were the faded colours of an American flag. “I think we found a crashed Apollo lander. And only one of them is still missing.... NASA never tracked it after it separated.”

Nobody said a word. They just stood there staring at it for what seemed like an age. Beyond, Blownapart the tank looked on, still waiting for them to come back. Above, the traffic to and from Kandor still flew. Earth was now full and high in the sky.

“Oh good sweet holy fuck,” said Leena, swallowing a fat lump that’d grown in her throat.

That about summed up the collective feelings of the group.

At the moment, what I'm thinking is that we should figure out a time, figure out a means of communication, and verify that everything works.
We're not going to finish a game today.  That's a given.  We can't really make concrete progress without at least an hour-long session, I'd say.  Three hours would be preferable, but one would work.  If we can do something in that scale semi-regularly on Saturdays, that should let us reach the 1400s this year.
Also, Yuku isn't fast enough.  We need instant messaging and/or voice chat.  I'm on Skype, MSN, Google, Steam, and Ventrilo- whichever you want to use, I'm good with.
I've had games (mostly Civ5) that I just couldn't play with people
because of network iffiness on one or both ends, bad coding, and the
like, so before we get the 'real game' going, we should do a test run. You know the type- make sure we can all connect to the same game, run it just fine for a while, save our progress, and reload it afterwards.  If we can't do all that, this whole thing (probably) falls apart.

Just got back from seeing it. 
Yeah - they tweaked his origin some. And the costume. But they kept the essence true. And they REALLY emphasized how difficult is was for him to come to terms with his powers. Especially his enhanced senses. This becomes very important when he's fighting Zod and the other Kryptonians later in the film. (What? Not like that's a huge spoiler - it's been in all the trailers.)

And about that conflict - 

Remember the "World Made of Cardboard" scene from the last episode of Justice League Unlimited? Remember earlier in the same series the fight between Superman and Captain Marvel?

The entire second half of the movie is that. 

And. IT. IS. AWESOME. 

For the very first time in any Superman movie, I think you REALLY get the visceral sense of what beings like that could do. The impacts, the collateral damage, the sheer SPEED at which they can react and move!

Just... damn. 

Go see it. Highly recommended. 

I put this here so I didn’t have to clutter up other threads with strange questions about the logistics of writing for Steve Jackson Games, and what we could or couldn’t pull from.  Also, it’s a good place to put generic, rules- and system-based questions and discussions.

First, what is the likely-hood of being allowed to pull Pyramid Articles into the function of the game?

In Pyramid 3-34 David Pulver’s “Eidetic Memory” article, “Extreme Damage,” should fit right into IST.  I’ve actually been uses those rules (along with Multiplicative Modifiers) to have a more-super, supers game.  It’s on pages 24-25.

If you don’t have 3-34, Bob, I can see about PayPal-ing you some fundage to pick it up, as I can’t buy a hard copy and mail it to you.

Second, there are, at least, four enhancements from GURPS Psionic Powers that, I feel, would need to be copied over.  The four I can, just off the top of my head, identify that would be needed are:“Faster Concentration” and “Improved” for Jumper, and “Rationalization” and “Slow and Sure” for Mind Control.  There are, to be sure, other good ones as well.  Those four are just right next to each other (and I was looking for “Improved” and saw the other three in a quick glance).

 

Tell Me What Is Being Done In My Name -- a short essay in Esquire.

(edit: fixing title of thread)

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Starting a thread for belated observations and musings on Eyrie works, because why not?
It never really dawned on me precisely where the name "Avalon" comes from until I reread the Raven/The Demon Halloween Special just this evening, and got to the part about Etrigan's verse-epic about King Arthur's court. At first I was thinking "Gryphon is Arthur?!", but a cursory examination puts the lie to that. No, I think the Great King is a figure of much more mysterious origin and whereabouts: Lord Fahrvergnugen. Seemingly slain by a trusted personal assistant, he returned when his people (the Wedge Rats) most needed him.

Because high-ranking Troubleshooters don't just shoot trouble in the face. There're other missions involved- ones that might not be so messy, but would be politically inconvenient for another faction to acknowledge is actually happening under their nose. And Lun turned out to be an interesting character.... So, this is what a 'big' Troubleshooter mission might involve. Months of buildup beforehand, hardware built in secret, a little misdirection and then somebody blows it wide open a few months afterwards. The UBA investigation by the Knight Sabers took nearly a year to come to a head.

And, well, I noticed nobody else seems to have much turnover in property or circumstance. Nobody ever crashes their spaceship.... they last until the author thinks of something cooler.

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

The Story of Lun.

Lun was intended to be the future. Soviet built, she skimmed the surface of the Caspian promising high-speeds and high cargo capacity at effiencies unmatched by conventional aircraft. Then the Soviet Union collapsed.

Lun was parked on the shore, her maintenance and upgrades placed almost permanently on the long finger as the money dried up. She was parked waiting for thirty years, kept free of corrosion by replacement of her Zinc anodes and the intention to use her again 'someday soon'.

In April 2024, with most of the hardware aboard two generations obsolete, she was purchased from Alekseev by an anonymous bidder and flown off the Caspian. All 300 tons of her.

----

February 2024

An explosion rips open the the skies over Texas as half a dozen bright contrails blaze through the evening skies. The smoking remains of a starship engine smash into a cattle ranch. After hitting an unidentified atmosphere skimming object the Dragon Wagon It careens through the upper atmosphere, struggling to skip off on emergency thrusters only after striking an unidentified flying object.[1]

Those aboard survive, the Wagon limps home on two remaining engines. An insurance assesor determines her to be beyond economic repair, and totals her out at market value. The wreck makes her final journey to a Great Justice hanger, to determine the origin of the object she hit before being scrapped.

This left the residents of the expanding Frigga without a cruiser to rely on - a transport-capable craft was especially needed to support the race team, and Ford's bounty hunting - among other things. The original plan had imply been to replace like with like. This was shelved soon after sealed orders arrived by mail drone.

Instead, they purchased Lun. Spending the entirety of the insurance fund on the hulk, they replaced the eight engines in-situ with Fusion turbines and managed to make a transit flight over Georgia and the Black Sea to the Mediterranean where it could be picked up by JMC for heaylift transportation to Frigga. Publicly, it was planned to fit her out into a replacement for the wrecked Wagon - as a ship capable of going Bounty Hunting, transportation to Asteroid races, taking on business trips to Survival Shot clients, or vacations. She was to be a comfortable, well equipped cruiser with a secondary search and rescue role.

In private, she was being built for a mission. A very specific mission

Recover several tons of Gate Metal from Arcadia for a classified Great Justice project, without being caught violating the Ecological preservation Area by the Federation. [2]

Lun's waving was old-fasioned at best, with her real purpose being carefully hidden. She has fittings for ten crew in reasonable comfort, with up to thirty being possible if people are willing to share, or fill unusual spaces. A cargo hold was built into her keel spaces. Her six missile tubes were converted into shuttle-launch tubes, each one containing a small single-person craft - literally a missile with a man in it. The main radome was replaced by an observation deck to combat long-journey Claustrophobia, with secondaries adapted to form a sensor area and a point-defense system. Her 8 Turbojets were replaced by fusion-cored turbofans to generate the initial lift needed for takeoff, with a transition to spaceflight capable mode. She has a modest cruising speed of 0.04C, but is capable of up to .11C at full power on those occasions when fuel consumption is not a primary (Or secondary, or even tertiary) concern.

Armaments are minimal - enough to shoo away pirates. Simple autocannons for and aft - in turrets, with point-defence capability.

Finally, a mind awoke within the computer systems of the new cruiser. Lun's core was quickly moved to an independant body. She uses a dedicated wireless link to interface with the ship.

And on the surface, that's all the majority of Fen see. The only hint to its true purpose was an overpowered - and unusually arranged - sensor array and large interwave transmitter mounted on top of the tailplane.

Truthfully, Only 2 of the missile-shuttles were flyable - the other four have had their life support and the majority of their propulsion systems left out to make space for a shielded cargo compartment. The cargo bay itself functions as a moon-pool in the ocean, containing a crane, and fittings for two RGM-83-M Marine Balls, three high pressure hard diving suits, a transport sled named 'Azorian' and ocean bottom equipment. The Aft compartment was converted into a small biolab - ostensibly to put up the pretence of being amateur research.

All of this was carefully hidden from Starfleet. As far as their inspection teams were concerned, Lun and her crew were nothing more than a group of people on vacation together, diving and fishing in the life-rich waters of Arcadia, with a little amateur bioresearch on the side.

Lun brought home 8.5 tons of pure Gate Metal, despite being searched twice by Starfleet in the process. This metal then dissapeared into a deep black project linked to an organisation known as 'Interesting Times'.

Lun's true purpose was only revealed to Wikileaks three months after she returned, blowing open the Arcadian secret and rendering all the effort put into keeping it moot. Details of the mission and its observations leaked out, along with videos from the Bottom Team, including details of the Sparks.

Conspiracy theories have always revolved around Lun. Some Fen are convinced the Moskito is a backdoor method for developing a strategic weapons platform, slipping past Space Patrol oversight by calling it a manned spacecraft. Rumours still revolve around how much Starfleet actually knew about the mission beforehand and how hard their inspection teams actually looked. The cynical suggest that the zone of ecological preservation was established by the Federation to keep Gate Metal to itself.

The consequences of this leak, remain to be seen.

Lun meanwhile, can be found on Frigga where she spends the majority of her time now handling Search and Rescue duties for the local sector, when she's not used for business. The airlocked moon-pool and grappler crane makes her well suited for the role. Her operation is subsidised by the Sailor's Armed Militia as a reserve ship in the auxiliary fleet, with Daryl Haur listed as Captain. She has since been modified to have two landing pads with tiedowns on the top of both wings to allow her to carry larger auxiliary craft to assist rescues or shuttle crew to ground as necessary.

Incidentally, her name is pronounced 'Loon', as in Lunar, *not* Lun as in Lum.

The second unfinished Lun, 'Spasatel' is being investigated by the SAM - mong others - for possible purchase and conversion into spaceflight capable dedicated rescue craft.

--------

"It costs ten thousand dollars to run these engines for ten seconds": Eight main engines. Do the math. All eight are normally used for take-off. Lun cruises on two happily.

"Water-born." Needs to be sprayed with salt-water monthly to inhibit corrosion. Has basic beaching landing gear - so can ground slowly in a hanger or up a slipway. Cannot land or takeoff on a runway at speed.

"You must think in Russian".... onboard computer displays default to cryllic on startup. And like to reset when it's most inconvenient.

"Dashcam Spy:" Camera mounted on the instrument panel, looking out over the nose. Must be operational for the engines to start. Has a habit of being pointed at exactly the right place at exactly the right moment.

"Am I over here?" Handwaved Radar allows Lun to use Digital Memory of Radio Frequency techniques to disrupt enemy scanners, capable of fooling systems less powerful than her own into thinking she is roughly 100km away from where she actually is. Not really useful at space ranges - except for deflecting missiles in the terminal phase of flight - but on a planetary scale it can be far more useful.

"Unix Useability": Lun was built and optimised for its intended mission first, and the people using it third. It makes her difficult to live with. Comm's and sensors are overpowered, with the sensors arranged inneficiently for spaceflight. The cargo bay is innacessible when landed, and both wings get in the way of proper docking at airlocks. And that's just the beginning...

==Crew Quirks==

"One weekend a month:" Officially (And only occasionally) Manned by a crew of SAM reservists, and remains on standby for rescue and patrol duties as needed. Training duties and fleet duties are attended as required.

"All animals are equal....": Lun is available for anyone living on Frigga who needs the use of a heavy cruiser, for whatever lawful purpose, provided the need is genuine. Naturally, it's a good idea to book in advance as there can be a waiting list. And repairs/replacement do have to be covered by the person doing the damage.

"Some animals are more equal than others." Ford tends to take precedence - as the official papers-holding owner - since Bounty Hunting can require a 'flexible' schedule. Official business for Survival Shot, Asagiri, or Frigga itself comes first.

=== Azorian ===

The Azorian was intended to act as a hardware carrier suporting the mission to mine the ocean bottom for gate debris.

The sled contains fittings for holding both Balls (The obvious nickname was quickly shot down), three hard diving suit docks, miniature transport sleds and various arm-tools for both Balls. The Balls have been modified from models used by the Venus Terraforming project for surface maintenance and cable inspection- their atmospheric thrusters replaced by underwater pumpjet engines. Power is supplied by onboard Tanalloy batteries giving an endurance of up to 1 week in an emergency.

Spare power cells are stored on Azorian. Each Ball is positively bouyant, weighed down by lead shot which is automatically released in the event of a power failure causing an uncontrolled ascent.

The diving suits themselves are further adaptations of VTP hardware, with fully sealed joints. Some adjustment to suit the wearer is required. Each suit is fitted with remote manipulator hands, with additional tools on Azorian itself. Small wildlife sample containers were also provided.

The team operating Azorian were referred to as the 'Bottom Crew', and were drawn from members of the Venus Terraforming Project.

Incidentally, Azorian is named for the original Project Azorian - a CIA secret plan to recover a sunken Soviet Submarine from the Pacific Ocean, under the guise of an ocean mining expedition.

== Sparks ==

Local group of Arcadian Deap Sea Fauna (Darts, Bulbs, Bloomers, Shooters, Zippers and Whizzers) that appear to live off residual energy collected or leaking from Gate Metal chunks. They generate weak bioelectric fields which stimulate the release of energy from Gate Metal.

And disrupt the Tannaloy power packs of Azorian and the Balls as they sense a food-source. They also swarm the sensor equipment on Lun, and the handheld units used by the dive team. They may be mistaking the sensor arrays for other Sparks.

Noted for bioluminescence.

Of debated intelligence. Especially once the videologs were released after the mission was revealed to Fenspace which appearred to show them responding to attempts to communicate via flashlight.

A recovered Spark had a noticeably high body concentration of Handwavium. Above the usual biomod threshold.

The observed sparks may even be different genders of the same species.

== Moskito ==

Created in fine tradition of the first spaceflight pioneers, the Moskito is a missile with a man in it. Literally. The original two were built from surviving S-270 Moskit missiles, replacing the bit that goes bang with a cramped cockpit and small bubble canopy. The tungsten penetrator is retained in the nose to maintain proper centre of gravity. Propulsion comes from a single fusion plant driving a quad-coil engine similar to the open-sourced designs on an old-model Blackbird.

Moskito's are launched from their tubes by a HTP-90/RP-1 fuelled 'Goddard Drive'. This provides the initial kick to get it clear of the tube and - in atmosphere - up to a respectable cruising speed. Fusion torches would damage the hull.

Landing planetside is obviously an oversight. Skids are fitted, which are better suited to low-gravity space operations rather than water landings. Each Moskito is also fitted with a full guidance system capable of fully automated flight - a legacy of the early test phase when it was too dangerous for humans to fly them. This lead to suggestions that they aren't really meant to be landed. Lun's registration as a 'Guided Missile Cruiser' only fuels speculation that she was built for less wholesome purposes than publicly announced.

Both Moskito's wear a single flower decal on a wing. The two pilots refer to themselves at the Striking Lighnting Special Attack Squadron - black joke referring to them both being registered as 'fighters' despite having no discernable weaponry and very little provision for getting back on the ground. The Moskito uses the same flight-suit technology as the Kulbit racer. Much to the enjoyment of onlookers.

Controversy surrounds the Moskito, with some Fen convinced the Moskito is a backdoor method for developing a strategic weapons platform, slipping past Space Patrol oversight by calling it a manned spacecraft. This controversy may even have been intentionally created, to hide Lun's true purpose.

The other four were little more than hollow mockups with the fuel tanks used as secret storage compartments. Which explains the odd propulsion arrangements.

The two surviving Moskito's have gone on to prove their worth as fast couriers, cruising at close to The Limit.

----- Quirks

"Missile with a Man in it.": Literally. Nav-plotter, throttle, stick, pedals, a few buttons and a seat. Bring your own life-support.

"Petrov's nemesis.": The cause of numerous misindentifactions in early warning systems.

"I can't drive .055 .": Tough to control at low speeds. With the main engine idling it's still doing .057C.

== Lun 'Rune' Alekseeva ==

"Capitalism, is where someone can have a sportscar, a bigscreen television and a big house. In an ideal world.
Communism, is where someone can have healthcare, secure work and his children a good education. In an ideal world.
Realism is where someone can have a sportscar, a bigscreen television, a big house, healthcare, a secure job and everyone else can have none of these things. That's the real world."

Lun awakened within the missile control computers about mid-way through the reconstruction of the ekranoplan on Frigga. She awakened shortly before the old computers she awoke in were due to be removed to make space for crew cabins. This set the reconstruction schedule back a few weeks until the half-waved Ekranoplan could be flown to somewhere capable of moving her to a standalone body.

Lun pronounces her name as 'Rune' to distinguish herself from the Ekranoplan Lun

On-duty, Lun wears the Uniform of a Lieutenant in the Soviet Navy. She acts as co-pilot and navigator for her current crew - only taking command if requested, or if the crew's competence falls to dangerous levels. It's at her insistance that Lun (Spacecraft) is made available to all residents of Frigga.

Off-duty, Lun indulges in wearing denim, watching Dallas, and swimming. She has a thing for old Soviet Science Fiction writers with Roadside Picnic being a favourite of hers. She maintains a private office in virtual space for serious business needs, furnished as befits a Lieutenant of the Northern Fleet. She has also managed to organise the construction of a swimming pool on Frigga by a group of volunteers. (Though nobody actually realises she started and drove the whole thing... as far as most are concerned, it just sort of happened.)

Lun is self-described as a communist. Despite being somewhat bitter about the real world results of both systems - with the feeling that both -isms will ultimately be corrupted to the same end - she still tries best to change her one small corner of the universe and practice what she believes in, hoping to start at the bottom rather than lead from the top.

Lun has pale blue eyes and dark hair.

--- Mundane attributes ---

"So why don't they wear a tel'nik?" Most definitely not Soviet Airforce.

"Better red than....": Lun is an honest communist. Tell her you need something, and she'll give according to her best ability. She naturally expects the same in the return - and can be bitterly offended if people don't reciprocate without good reason.

"Will you travel with me?" Anarchist-communist. Attempting to create a revolution of fellow travellers, each taking the same path without a leader to follow. She feels all revolutions are doomed the moment somebody is put in charge, as all systems of authority eventually come to exist solely to serve themselves. Thus all such revolutions will eventually become self-serving regimes. Her debates with Chris Marsden have been described as 'interesting'.

"Because they are a most probable War Trophy": In the habit of wearing cheap denim when not on duty.

"It is wise to study the ways of one's enemy": Owns every single episode of Dallas. Among other shows of similar vintage.

"Water-born" Lun can swim at a competitive pace. She has the physique to match.

"Ty chyo, blya?" Normally even tempered, Lun will slip into her native language when really annoyed or feels the need to vent.

--- Handwavium abilities ---

"A Modern Product of Our Super Science:" AI Robot. Technically doesn't need to eat, sleep or drink. Theoretically immortal.

"Part of the ship. Part of the crew:" Lun has a wireless link to the ship's systems, allowing her to take direct control in an emergency, or monitor multiple systems if the ship is undermanned.

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

Crew positions are available -to those with relevant security clearances, or who've relevant experience and are willing to sign the Classified Materials Order. [4]

[1] Not an alien Spacecraft, but something that was just plain unknown at the time. It's suspected it may have been a low-earth skimming Chinese Stealth surveillance drone on a Polar orbit to take it over Nevada. This is part of an unrelated plotline (Closer to Henning's Gas Station story)
[2] Knowing the Federation, this was the truth. Nobody wanted a full-blown gate-metal Goldrush which would disrupt the delicate terraformed ecosystem and invalidate any research into it.
[3] Lun will happily wait 200 years to achieve her goal. She has time. And when Communism finally arrives, it will simply be 'the way things have always been done here'. Nobody will notice any different.
[4] The emergency Diver was 'Atlanta Sammy' An obvious pseudonym for someone in desperate need of a holiday.
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--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?

Decided to put him here, for discussion outside of the Aliens thread.
The Statbox version:The Blue Demon
[table]

So - I find myself running one of the (relatively rare) timed missions in Champions - trying to disarm a bunch of bombs in a warehouse full of zombies before they go off -

And I find myself thinking two slightly snarky thoughts -

1) "There's nothing in this warehouse BUT THE ZOMBIES. Wouldn't you WANT the bombs to go off?" >.>

and - Due to the slightly more, shall we say - campy tone of Champions compared to CoX, as I'm running around looking for that last bomb and time is beginning to run out, I can't help but think -

2) "Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb!"

Strandbeest


After seeing that video, I liked the models did the usual thing and found http://www.hlj.com/product/GAK06168/ (english FAQ & instructions http://otonanokagaku.net/english/magazi ... /book.html) the third of what Adam displayed and it arrived today. I built it in an hour or so and only had one issue at the early on stage.

I'm now thinking of getting the other's. http://www.hlj.com/product/GAK06360/ is one I've found. Also those Japanese mooks seem so much more enjoyable then those 'some parts fortnightly' piecemeal things us English speakers get.
Heck, it's one issue and I've a completed item. I think I now see why......;|

edit:lost the video
--Rod.H