Divided Loyalties - 31/May/2012
Early Summer, 2008, Luna.
"Big brother!  Big brother! What are you doing?"  The stocky red-haired figure looked up from his workbench, smiled briefly, then went back to working.  Uran frowned at him.
"You're just teasing me!  You've kept me out of here, every morning, all week. Now you've let me in.  What'ya doing?"  Uran stomped over to the wheel-chaired man, and mock-glared up at him, from all of her 1 metre height.
Brains looked down at her.  "You're not going to give me any peace, are you?" He sighed.  He reached under the bench, and pulled out a stool.  "Hop up."
Uran bounced onto the stool, not even bothering to fly.  She didn't normal fly in the house.  Unless it was to get at something high.  Or sneak up on someone, which she hoped soon would mean more than just Brains.  She gulped.
The figure on the bench wasn't Gerry the Robot, or even Doctor Venus, which she knew he was working on.  It wasn't even one of the mysterious long figures, which looking over she could see were concealed beneath their dust sheets, on trolleys on the far side of the workshop.  The cat-like tail hanging down from under one sheet briefly distracted her, but this was far more important.
"But, that's me!"  Brains had obviously just finished work on a robot girl figure, that looked identical to her.  A charging cable was plugged-in and she could hear a faint, familiar, hum as power was sucked from the house's accumulators.  The brain hatch was open, on the right side, where she had one, but she couldn't see any brain, at all, inside the head.
"You remember how I showed you, not long after you first woke, how to back yourself up?"  "Squicky!", was her quick reply.  "Yes.  Taking half your brain out of your head and putting it into a memory recorder wasn't really a fair thing to ask you to do.  But, it means that even if you're really badly hurt, then we could rebuild you."
Brains paused, obviously uncomfortable.
"I hope you remember how you said you felt a bit funny.  Almost as if you were in two places at once.  And, I ran all those tests on you, and the braincorder." "Huh!", she said emphatically.  "Yes, I know it was boring, but it proved that the entanglement between your two half-brains kept working, even though they were physically separate.  And, you seemed to be able to function fully, even with half a brain."
She looked at the body on the workbench.  "This is the spare body, that you said I'd need if I got really badly hurt?"  Brains paused.  "No.  This is so we can see if you're even more talented than I already know you are."
Uran stuck out her tongue at Brains, then dodged when he went to grab it with his fingers.  She knew she was being a bit childish, but it made Brains laugh, and he didn't laugh anything like as much as he should.  She realised she'd dodged into thin air, so she slid back onto her seat, thinking "I'm glad I'm not like the Coyote[1].  I don't fall if I look down!".
"I'm not going to like this next bit, am I?", she said.  "No, and if I'm right, Yes.  I'd like you to take out your half-brain, as if you were going to do a backup, and carefully put it into here", and he pointed into the empty head of the figure.  Suddenly a faint 'ping!' told them that recharging, or, she guessed first charging, was complete.
Reluctantly she went to open her brain hatch, then stopped, and carefully wiped her hands clean, first.  The half-brain disengaged, as it was supposed to, and with slightly blurred vision she placed it in the open head.  RESET.
She looked up from the bench.  Gradually sitting up.  Automatically her hand went up and closed her brain hatch, and a shocked figure looked at her from the stool and did the same.  She noticed Brains grinning widely.
"Who am I?", she said slowly.  "You're Uran."  And Brains pointed at the person on the stool.  "You're both Uran.  Now you can be in two places at once!"
The two Uran looked at each other, and slowly an immense grin spread across both their faces.  They bounced into the air, joined hands, and did a little mid-air skipping dance.  Each could feel the other, but they seemed to need to use their built-in high band communicators to actually exchange information.
"We're going to have so much fun!"  They looked over at Brains, and noticed he looked a bit wary, and, now that they looked more closely, his colour wasn't quite right.
"You've been over-doing it again!", said one.  The other flew up to at him, and sniffed.  "You've been eating Nutrition again, from your hot cup.  I bet you've not been taking proper breaks!  You said you wouldn't eat in the workshop.  And, you promised the doctor!"
"But, but", he spluttered.
The two looked at each other.  "Not a motorboat!  Off to bed!", they chorused, as one picked him up, wheelchair and all.  The other swooped-over and picked up a stack of brightly-coloured paperback books, and stuffed them in a bag marked "Andromeda Bookshop".
"You can rest, and read, in bed.  We'll get you your next two meals, there.  Yes, we know we can't cook properly, yet, but we know how to defrost things from the deep freezer."
They flew him into the bedroom, then landed, and stepped outside, while he prepared and hoisted himself into bed.
"Just to check, how long is it safe to be two of us?", one called.  "Six hours, or until you'd do your usual backup, whichever comes first, should be safe. We'll do some tests, tomorrow, that should tell us more about how far you can push it", came the distracted voice, mixed in with a few grunts, from inside.
"Why doesn't he dial down the gravity to Lunar normal while he's doing that?", radiopathed one to the other.  "You know how stubborn he is", came the reply. They nodded at each other.
"What are you plotting out there?", came the voice, probably now in bed.  A quick peek confirmed.
"I'll only do this for three hours", came the reply, "And, you're going to be working on Doctor Venus, tomorrow.  No matter how much I want to play with the kitties."
"You peeked!", came from an indignant Brains.  "I told you not to peek!"
"Oops."  "Anyhow, you need a doctor to keep an eye on you, far more than a robot pilot, or cute cat girls."
"They're not just cute cat girls, they're...  OK.  I'll work on Doctor Venus[2]. Expert in Space Medicine.  If I don't, I know you wont give me any peace."  And, he yawned.
Uran stood and watched, until she was sure he was asleep.  Then, went over and carefully tucked the covers in around him.  Time to go and study the medical databases, and figure-out what symptoms they should be looking out for, and might already have seen.  So they could brief Doctor Venus properly.
They might be in a house, on the Moon.  But, they were going to make sure that Brains, their big brother, was looked after properly.
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind

'Riding the Wave' is a weekly half hour TV show produced and transmitted from Babylon .5.  Each episode explores a theme/topic in fandom (such as Villains, Time travel, Tolkien, or Censorship).
Using a network of Fen and Fendanes on Earth, the show's producers interview various authors, directors, actors, comicbook writers, ect.  The interviews usually get the person's views on as many as a dozen topics in one sitting which are then spread out amongst the appropriate episodes.
The show's format and look are both heavily inspired by the canadian TV program 'Prisoners of Gravity' which ran from 1989 to 1994, even to the point of replicating Prisoner's 'pirating' of another show's timeslot.
******************
All of the recent story posts finally got me to finish one of the ideas I had bouncing around.
Prisoners of Gravity was produced by TVOntario (TVO), ran from '89 to '94, and starred Rick Green (The Frantics, The Red Green Show, History Bites)
http://ww3.tvo.org/program/120086/prisoners-of-gravity
The intro for Prisoners of Gravity would fit so well into Fenspace, despite been made more than a decade before hand. 8P
(starts around 1:08 into part 1 below)
There are several episodes on Youtube (usually broken into 3 ten minute sections) including this one I found, discussing Shared worlds. 8)
pt1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5BG_p3tkao
pt2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmTJ6oGqgvk
pt3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyjCYBFW_IA
edit for typo.
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

Since I've found myself doing custom title graphics for the most recent Steps, I suppose that with DWS queued up behind DW8 I should start looking around for a good Sailor Moon-inspired font.  I've already found one, and I'm wondering if anyone knows of any others.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

On the spur of the moment I created a new forum for Drunkard's Walk S: Heart of Steel.  This doesn't mean I'm shifting that story into active production,  just that there are enough threads about it -- and it's close enough to active -- to make it worth consolidating into a dedicated area.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

This forum is intended for the discussion of the unnumbered" Step in the Drunkard's Walk, which takes place somewhere between Drunkard's Walk V and Drunkard's Walk X.  Entitled "Heart of Steel", it is set in the world of the Sailor Moon anime, during the first season.  As of this posting, it is not yet in active production, but there have been so many threads and discussions concerning it that I decided I would move them all into a dedicated forum in anticipation of attacking this project after DW8.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Hello, everyone,
It's been a while for me since I last was on this board, so I hope all's well with everyone here, including our delightful hosts.
Anyhow, here's a little something I just wrote tonight.  The muses are being silly with me today.
Cheers!
Fred
**** **** ****
The Loon and the Ladies from
Avalon
by Fred Herriot
**** **** ****
Based on Drunkard's Walk,
created by Robert M. Schroeck; and Phoenix From the Ashes, created by
Fred Herriot
**** **** ****

Local date:  Unknown,
Location:  Unknown

I woke up in a tall field of
grass.

Blinking as I noted the sun
high in the sky, I then sensed some dirt lying on my face and touching my
lips.  Spitting out same as I reached up
to wipe my face clean, I then moaned as I slowly boosted myself into a sitting
position with my elbows.  Looking through
my helmet's eye protectors, I was quick to notice that I was in what appeared
to be a well-trampled military training reservation.  The worn-down track ruts – while quite fresh –
clearly indicated this was some sort of tank range.

Before I could take a
detailed look around, my ears then picked up something.

A tank's diesel engine.

Sensing the slight tremor in
the Earth under my butt, I quickly turned to look where the noise was coming
from . . . and then gaped on seeing a very impressive-looking machine come out
from behind a thick stand of trees, racing down a nearby path at a VERY good
clip.  On recognising said tank as a
Leopard 2 – the main battle tank of the German Army and a few other armies – I then
blinked as nearly-forgotten briefings on such machines came back to me.  Leopards were diesel-driven machines; they
didn't have the turbine engine an M1A1 Abrams possessed.  Yet this machine here . . .!

I then winced as said machine
suddenly came to a screeching halt – a "combat stop" as it was called
amongst regular Army boys worldwide – and then the commander's hatch popped
open to allow said commander to lean out and look my way.

Whoo, boy . . .

"There you are!"

I perked on hearing that
shout from somewhere to my left, and then I turned . . .

. . . to find a small group
of women walking towards me, visibly armed in what seemed to be fighting order
and clearly out for a wonderful constitutional in the boonies.  While not recognising the actual pattern of
their camouflage shirts and pants – not to mention their web gear and even then
boots! – I was quick to see the low-visibility flags on their
shoulders.  One with a simple design of
dark sides with a pale middle the same width as the flag's height, a stylised
maple leaf placed there.

Okay.

I was somewhere in Canada.

Or possibly in Germany
butting in on a NATO exercise being run by the First Canadian Infantry Division,
whose 4th Brigade was – as I barely could remember in my universe – based in
the Black Forest of Baden-Württemberg near the Rhine River.

A glance back at the tank.

Yep.  Black maple leaf on the turret.

"I'm in Germany, aren't
I?" I then asked the person whom I believe called out to me.

A shake of the head as a too
cute for words smile crossed her camouflaged face.  "No, you're currently in the exercise
area of Canadian Forces Base Niagara, sir," she answered in a polite voice
as she slung her rifle – an M16A2 derivative, not the Canadian-built FN FAL
rifle soldiers of that nation used when I was last on my Earth – over her
shoulder.  Her friends were also relaxing
as they slung their weapons.

That struck me immediately as
odd.

Unless . . .

"Am I home?" I
whispered.

Sympathy seemed to flow out
from all their faces.  "No,
sir," the woman who had spoken to me replied, looking as if she wished to
take personal responsibly for my decades-long separation from my home dimension
and my wife.  What the heck?  "Haida detected the space-warp
that brought you onto the exercise range about ten minutes ago.  We were busy enjoying some time out in the
field after coming back to rejoin our battalion after graduating from trades
training at the Valcartier Garrison."

I smiled.  "Vandoos?!"

A grin came back.  "No. 
Canadian Guards.  First
Battalion."

A nod.  Canadian troops assigned to the Warriors
often came from that youngest of the Dominion's six full-time infantry
regiments.  "A unit worthy of its
hire," I then complemented them, which made them blush to their toes even
under the camouflage.

"Thank you," she
replied as she gave me a knowing look. 
"I assume you come from a universe where the Regiment also
exists?" she asked.

"It does,
Guardsman," I replied, noting her rank slip-on on her front was blank over
the unit tag CG; obviously, the short-form title of the Regiment of
Canadian Guards.  "Sometimes frowned
on by the old boys in the Vandoos, the Royal Canadians and the Princess Pats,
but they do their job and take good pride in it."  I then moved to stand.  "I apologise for butting in on your
exercise.  How is it . . .?"

Turning to gaze to the
southwest, I stopped . . .

. . . on seeing HER.

"Oh – my – GOD!"

The guardsmen all grinned.

"That's Haida,"
the one who had been talking to me proudly declared.

I blinked, gazed on her for a
moment, and then turned back to gaze on the cigar-shaped starship
floating serenely over the ground in the near-distance.

One honkin' HUGE starship to
boot!

And incredible as this is
going to sound . . .

. . . it had the Canadian
flag painted on the hull aft of amidships.

"Yeah . . .!" I
breathed out.

THIS was going to be
different . . .

*    *   
*

Local date and time:  Sunday 9 May 2011, 1322 hours EDT
Local location:  Over Canadian Forces Base Niagara (east of
Welland, Ontario),

"Hey!"

I perked on hearing that
voice, and then looked up to see a smiling Navy medic – I assumed she was Navy
given her nearly-black work dress uniform, black beret with the badge of the
Canadian Forces Medical Services on it and the blank rank slip-ons on her shoulders,
though those were decorated with a very nicely-designed unit tag with the word HAIDA
in orange-gold on a dark blue field surrounded by ship's rope and topped by a
British-type naval coronet – gazing at me. 
"Yeah?" I asked.

"You sure you don't need
to get into Sickbay?" she asked.

For the fifth
time since I got aboard this rather LARGE shuttlecraft – it was called a
"Star Flare" and looked like a weird mix of a Lambda-class shuttle
from Star Wars and the Gemini-class shuttle from Battlestar Galactica
– which had, some minutes before, picked up Mrs. Sangoir's only son from the
exercise field now over a kilometre below the keel and was now taking me aboard
Her Majesty's Canadian Starship Haida.

Yep.

You read that right, folks.

Starship.

In the Year of Our Lord
TWO-THOUSAND AND ELEVEN, to boot!

How the HELL that was
possible, I couldn't BEGIN to guess.

Still, it was a change of
pace compared to other times over the last several decades that I've initially
arrived in other dimensions.

Clearly, the tech – which was
WAY above Earth baseline for MY own dimension, not to mention all the other
places I've been to in my travels – could sniff out dimensional breaches with
great ease.  And clearly, whoever was
controlling the tech in Canada was either knowledgeable enough or experienced
enough to make going out to find my lonesome self quite easy.  Even better, I didn't have to cook up false
identities and find some way to fit in while I waited for the chance to find a
proper Gate song to move onto the next step of my journey.  That told me one good thing about these
people.

They had experience in
dealing with dimensional crossings.

How that would benefit me, I
couldn't begin to guess.

But I hoped to barter my own
experiences for all the help they could give me.

Noting a pair of very lovely
green eyes staring knowingly at me, I gave the medic – her family name was SASAMOTO
as stitched on her left chest under the twin-headed thunderbird ship's crest of
Haida – a smirk.  "When I
normally drop unexpected into a new dimension, I'm normally quite whole and
healthy if not conscious at the time the transition occurs, Ordinary Seaman
Sasamoto," I explained.  "I'm
just glad that after doing my latest Gate jump, I came to a place where I could
get help right away in lieu of being sneaky about it and being forced into
quasi-legal and sometimes-immoral acts to forge a false identity so I could
interface with the local population."

"Wow!  He's roughing it, isn't he?" the
guardsman – I spotted her name, CROCE, on her tunic – said as she
exchanged a knowing look with the medic.

"That he is,
Henrietta-chan," the medic answered.

I then blinked.

They were talking in Japanese
. . .

. . . while my ears picked up
their words in clear English.

"Translation
field?" I asked in Nihon-go.

"Omni-translation
field," the medic stated as those green eyes of hers sparkled with
amusement.  "It can interpret any
language a sentient can speak and translate it automatically into the native
language of the speaker.  So if you're
more comfortable speaking English, sir, speak in English.  We can all understand you."

I nodded.  "How come you're travelling from
dimension to dimension?" Guardsman Croce – I felt it a little improper to
call her "Henrietta" even if she struck me as being about twenty
years of age – then asked.  "Are you
an explorer?"

A sigh as I decided to honour
their obvious concern with the truth. 
"I'm a metahuman warrior who serves in a group working for the
United Nations in my universe," I explained.  "In a battle many decades ago in my
time-line, I was propelled into an alternate universe.  Over the following years, I've travelled from
universe to universe in hopes of rejoining my friends and my wife."  I opened up my jacket and pulled out the
necklace bearing my wedding band. 
"It's been quite interesting, but believe me . . . HEY!"

The "hey" came from
something that reminded me a little too much of Minakami Wataru's twelve
half-sisters – save Chikage, of course – and how they reacted whenever
something their "Big Brother" did or said broke their hearts.

An honest-to-goodness Hug of
True Love from the medic and ALL the guardsmen!

I tried not to blush TOO much
on feeling that . . .

*    *   
*

The landing of the Star Flare
on the upper flight deck of H.M.C.S. Haida was pretty much like the
landing of any shipboard helicopter aboard any navy vessel that wasn't a
purpose-built aircraft carrier:  Come to
a hover over the green flight deck with the yellow landing lines and the white HA
at the aft end, square off on the centre of the deck, and then gently drop down
until solid rubber tires kissed metal deck. 
Even better, since the ship was only about a kilometre above the Welland
By-Pass that split its home base from the urban part of the Rose City of
Ontario, the outside atmosphere was quite breathable . . . as witness the
opening of the Flare's cargo doors aft onto the deck, thus allowing myself and
my current escorts – with Guardsman Croce and Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto having
wrapped one of their arms around one of mine – to walk onto a very clear day
over the Niagara region, with Lake Erie in the near distance.

As soon as we were aboard the
starship – and my mind was STILL boggling at the idea of a NATION on Earth
having a STARSHIP of all things! – proper, the group around me paused as they
straightened to attention, and then saluted the large ensign flying off what
appeared to be a sensor vane sticking up from the fantail of the ship between
the exhaust ports of a pair of ramjet-like engines that could swallow a whole
AIRCRAFT CARRIER from my universe with room to spare!  Realising that despite these girls' quite
friendly attitudes that they were still-serving soldiers and sailors of the
Queen of Canada, I straightened myself and gave the flag – a Canadian version
of the British White Ensign with a blue cross and the Maple Leaf Flag in the
canton – a Sandhurst-perfect salute. 
That caused my companions to all blink in surprise.

"Are you a serviceman?"
OS Sasamoto then asked.

"Technically, I'm a
colonel in the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Force, code-named
'Warriors Alpha,'" I explained. 
"The rank is honorary to me but to those who care for it, it's
quite real."  I gave her a
wink.  "I assume British shipboard
rules still run the Royal Canadian Navy? 
Or is it still Canadian Forces Maritime Command?"

"MARCOM for now,"
the medic stated, a smirk crossing her face. 
"That might change in the near future; you know how RUMINT can be
at times."

I smirked.  RUMINT: 
Rumour Intelligence, sometimes the most reliable information one could
get in the military.  "Indeed I do.  And . . . "  I straightened myself as I properly saluted
her.  "Permission to come aboard,
Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto?"

She returned my salute.  "Grated, Colonel . . .?"

"Douglas Q. Sangoir,
code-named 'Looney Tunes.'  Call me
Doug."

She smiled as she lowered her
arm.  "Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto
Narumi.  We use proper Oriental
name-order in the United Nations Earth Defence Force.  Welcome aboard."

I shook her hand . . . and
then perked as someone came walking our way from the large hangar deck
structure forward, where the Star Flare that brought us aboard was now being
wheeled into to join three sisters already folded up in their parking
spaces.  Said person, I was quick to
note, also appeared Japanese . . . even if her brown hair was done up in a high
beehive on the back of her head and she had amethyst eyes.  She was in the same uniform Narumi wore, but
her shoulder boards had the single gold stripe – with that funny circular loop
British navy officers wore on their uniforms – of their equivalent of a United
States Navy ensign over her ship's unit tags. 
She also had the badge of the Naval Operations Branch of the Canadian Forces
on her beret.

"Our traveller from
another dimension, Narumi-chan?" she asked, smiling.

"Hai, Tomomi-chan.  May I present Douglas Sangoir-taisa of the
United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Forces in his dimension.  His battle-name is 'Looney Tunes,'"
Narumi then stated.  "Doug-san, this
is Yoshino Tomomi-shoi, junior ship's combat warfare director.  In case you don't know, her rank in Canada is
'acting sub-lieutenant;' I can hear the London accent in your voice even if
your words are clearly American."

"Yes, I am American,
Narumi-chan," I said as I reached up to unbuckle and slip off my
helmet.  I was quick to sense the
appraising looks all the girls around me were giving, though Tomomi was quick
to see my wedding band.  "And
believe me, that I'm in the land of my homeland's brother born of the same
mother does my heart a world of good."

"Wonderful," Tomomi
stated.  "In the meantime, Hiromi-onesama
awaits.  This way."

She turned and headed to a
recessed stairwell in the middle of the flight deck close to the hangar.  "What do you want done with your
motorcycle, Doug-san?" Henrietta asked.

"Could you put it
somewhere safe, Henrietta-chan?" I asked in turn.  "And PLEASE, don't take it apart!  I had a nosy goddess of the future do that in
one of my longer stays and I prefer not to go through putting it back together
again."

"Which goddess of the
future?" Tomomi asked.

"Skuld."

A surprised look crossed her
face.  "From A Megami-sama?!"

I blinked in confusion . . .

*    *   
*

Somewhere, a different
dimension,

"AH-CHOO!"

"Bless you, Skuld!  Are you alright?"

A moan.  "Someone's talking about me, One-sama!"

Belldandy hummed.  "I wonder who would it be . . .?"

*    *   
*

This post on Think Progress: http://thinkprogress.org/.../06/26/506563/tv-tropes/
Which points at this post: http://www.themarysue.com/tv-tropes-rape-articles/
This is moving out of the somewhat rarified stratosphere and into the mainstream - as mainstream as ThinkProgress is.Brazil has decided you're cute.

I appear to have misplaced my links for decent (low-overhead, no-install, no-Flash-required) broadband speed test sites. A couple of weeks ago, the local phone company has had a small fleet of trucks in my neighbourhood, so my broadband speed may have changed.

Can anyone recommend a good test site or two?
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

So here's the news about the new events. 

http://na.cityofheroes.com/en/news/news ... _event.php

Neph: *looks at the casino heist* we need suits, shades and some epic music.

House Raising - 10/Jun/2012
Mid Spring, 2008, Luna.
Can you raise a house on the Moon?  If most of the bits come from Earth, is that a 'house falling'?  That doesn't make much sense.  But, if the Moon's above the Earth, it might still be 'raising'.
This and other nonsense went through Brains head, as he sat on the Lunar surface, looking at where home would be.  On land he owned.  On the Far Side of the Moon.
He'd spent nearly two months, over-working to get his plans and materials ready, since his 'day trip' up here.  Fortunately these days he'd the help of Brainless, who honestly seemed to enjoy the more structured (dare he say 'simpler'?) bits.  Though he'd almost nudged him out of his cottage workshop, to the one on the 'SS Champ'.
He'd come up with a new variety of 'paint'.  This took transparent mylar film used for a lot of his work and both strengthened it and made it convert about 25% of the light passing through it into electricity, while still making it almost invisible.  UV and IR too.  He'd treated the mylar pressure dome, the one he'd used to avoiding waving the clay pit, with this.  After tests he thought it ready for Moon duty.
Resources[1] was a major problem.  Theoretically handwavium must be capable of transmutation of elements, one reason he thought it was benevolent femtotech[2]. But, that was a can of worms he wouldn't open, just for his own convenience.  The results could be so horribly messy that it'd make juggling anti-matter look user-friendly.
The big problems were nitrogen, for his air, and carbon.  Oxygen was no problem.  Hydrogen was solvable if that mythical Lunar water was actually exploitable.  Otherwise it was asteroid mining time.  That'd give him water ice, and carbon, and he could hope enough nitrogen.  In the short-term he'd enough power to distil nitrogen out of Earth's atmosphere, and bottle it, or stock-up on ammonium nitrate.  And charcoal.
He'd waved the 'Recyclosaurus'.  Sometimes handwavium seemed to like silly things, and this was one of them.  An immense vegetarian dinosaur head and neck, currently attached to a bare frame robot body.  Uran called it "Nom Nom"[3], and insisted it was male.  He'd just slot in the cargo hatch of the 'SS Champ' and his chemical 'stomachs' reprocessed just about anything he ate, into useful feed-stocks.
Brains hadn't much use for Titanium, Aluminium, Magnesium, or even much Iron, at the moment, but something would probably come up.  Some nice stone walls for the garden were worth thinking about, and he'd need to make his own soil.  Plants in tubs would be a good start.
He looked over at the faint distortion where Nom Nom had been dug into the lunar regolith.  He seemed to be making good progress, the measures to stop lunar dust wrecking his works were holding.  That'd been a pain to fix.  The stuff got in everywhere.
Nom Nom's companions, the twin giant Beaver robot builders were doing well.  Following behind they took processed material and built then sealed underground walls.  Brains had named them 'Castor' and 'Pollux', but Uran said one should be called 'Teddy', though she wouldn't explain why.
A few more hours and they could seal the area where the dome was going to be raised, and stop relying on stored power.  The ship itself generated some power, of course, from energy it absorbed rather than diverted around, and the newly installed image system could provide a trickle, too.  Neither had a big enough cross-section, though.  Until he got the deep heat sinks installed this place'd show-up like an infra-red beacon to anyone who scanned it from orbit.  It was a risky time.
Uran had offered to help with the work.  But, the first part was mostly supervision, and he'd prefer to give her opportunity to play, rather than be bored.  He thought she was finishing reading "Harry Potter", at the moment.  Dipping into engineering and technical works when she wanted some diversion.  She seemed a competent programmer, but the subject didn't seem to interest her, in general.  Vehicles also didn't seem to catch her fancy, so she probably wouldn't become a 'Gearhead'.
'Ting!'  This time, unlike on the day trip, he'd brought a way to communicate with the others.  The display showed Pollux was saying they'd completed the first, outer, circle.  It'd seemed sensible not to make them too smart, and that'd worked so far.
Time to go down into the basement...
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"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind