please do, Bob.. Fenspace is too damn stagnant lately *cries*Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
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Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
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Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
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Re: Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
03-14-2007, 12:49 AM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2017, 09:21 PM by robkelk. Edit Reason: typo fix )
Oh, yes... My snippet established that Noah told Yoriko to let two stations know about the launch - if anyone wants an excuse to jump in, it should be obvious that the Biggest Gossip In Fenspace isn't going to stop with telling just those two.
--
Rob Kelk Sticks and stones can break your bones, But words can break your heart. - unknown 
I'll see what I can come up with. Work and lack of sleep aren't helping my creative juices right now.
-- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow 
Eric Zhu squinted at the images on the main monitor, the big screen occupying one wall of the Island's command room. The sight made his eyes hurt. They weren't very good images to begin with. The fact they'd been blown up way past their original resolution wasn't helping matters.
He shook his head, resisting the urge to pace. There wasn't room. "Who ARE these guys?" "You know," Gin replied, in a voice laden with sarcasm, "we're all thinking the same thing. It's not like you have to say it out loud or anything, make yourself sound like an idiot..." Eric scowled. "Shut up." Gin hit the mute button on her console, and swiveled round. The console was just a 'waved desktop computer. But it was an exceedingly well 'waved computer, and emitted a satisfying 'bleep' in fine Star Trek tradition. She adjusted her headset...and made a face. "I'm talking with a tech at Stellvia," Gin said, "They've got it on their scopes. But they don't know either." There was a minor scuffle behind Eric as someone shouldered his way through the crowd. Island Control was a large-ish space, but it wasn't meant to support so many people. Not at once. Matt pushed his way to Gin's side, people parting for the big man like the Red Sea. "Any identification," he demanded gruffly, "are they broadcasting an IFF?" From the back of the room, Will Kao shouted: "ARE THEY ANSWERING HAILS?!" Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Gin turned back to her console. "Uhhh...I'll ask. Wait one." As she did, the room descended into noise once more. Most of the Island's crew was packed into the control room - not just the command staff, but almost every employee. Most of the people in the crowd were supposed to be on-duty elsewhere. But they weren't going to miss something as big as this, not for something so trivial as work. There were even a few Fisherbots jockeying to see the screen, poking their little plastic heads between the legs of crewmembers. The Island's robots seemed fascinated as well. "Jesus," Matt said. It wasn't clear whether he was swearing, or making a very short prayer. He stared at the information displayed on the main monitor, and shook his head. "That thing is HUGE." "Biggest land theft ever," Eric muttered, "almost makes me feel inadequate." Gin snickered. "Aren't you already inadequate?" Eric scowled. "Aren't YOU supposed to be talking with Stellvia?" Gin pointed to the red light on her console. "I'm on hold." "Wonderful," Eric grumbled. He placed two fingers against his forehead, trying to hold off the coming headache. "Right, right. Someone check the 'net. Is there anything online about this?" Up on the big screen, a small window appeared. The face of a bearded man popped into view, the usual avatar of the Island's resident AI. "Just did, boss," Simon-Peter said, "there's quite a bit, actually." Eric's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" "Uh, yeah," the AI replied, "though most of it's been posted in the last, er, five minutes." Moving next to Eric, Matt glared at the screen. "Is there anything older? Anything with useful information?" "Um," the AI said, looking abashed, "no?" Eric breathed a deep, long-suffering sigh. Then he looked around, coming to a decision. "Alright people," he announced, "we'll maintain alert status. The rest of you, BACK TO WORK." The wave of protest was almost deafening. "QUIET," Eric yelled, "YOU'LL GET UPDATES!" He searched the sea of faces, until he found the one he wanted. "Ally?" Ally blinked. She twisted her hand round, pointing to herself. "Yes," Eric confirmed, "you." She looked uncertain, surprised at being singled out. "Um..." "Once everyone's back on-duty," Eric said, glaring deliberately at his errant crewmembers, "get on the PA. Most folks on board have probably heard. Especially since you all rushed here when we paged the command staff. But...make an announcement anyway. Then talk to Simon-Peter, put all the graphics and sensor stuff we have on the public screens. No speculation, just the facts. As we get 'em." Ally felt the sudden and completely irrational urge to salute. "Yes sir!" Eric nodded. "And the rest of you..." He growled. "...GET BACK TO WORK!" See... Eric's mistake was...when Stellvia called, he went on the intercom without really thinking. *three-tone-signal* "Attention all command staff. All command staff. Green alert. We've got a new VLO report. Repeat, that's a Vee El Oh. If you're free, come to Control." *three-tone-signal* Announcing that there's been a sighting of a new Very Large Object is not the wisest thing. Not on the public bands. Sure, all the Island's visitors, residents, tourists and customers, they have no idea what the acronym stands for... ...but all the Island crew, on the other hand, they know the announcement codes, and that one's not been used for like...ever... *stampede!* -- Acyl
(At a town meeting on the GC some days later.)
Bob looked around at his fellow co-cospirators. "Okay," he said slowly. "Someone explain to me why none of us thought to install a radio on the bridge when were busy building radar units out of microwave ovens?" (During one of the first visits by other fen.) "My god, you took an entire town into orbit?" he said while watching the younger children playing in the yard in front of the "bridge". "A small one." Kat smiled serenely. "After all, it takes a village to raise a child into space." -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
Re: Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
03-14-2007, 05:07 AM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2017, 09:23 PM by robkelk. Edit Reason: formatting fix )
"Yoriko, just how many people did you tell about this? Besides who I told you to tell, I mean?"
"Oh, just my friends in the Senshi, the Blue Blazers, the Browncoats, the -" Noah cut her off. "You told everyone, didn't you?" She blushed. "Well... yes." "Great, just great. Ask the Warsies if they've got room for a few dozen visitors; I just know our docking ports are about to fill up. Get Yayoi to fly the Epsilon Blade out somewhere it won't be in the way as soon as Sora's aboard it; when whoever the Island sends shows up, they get that slip. Whoever Hephaestus sends gets the slip beside them. And if anybody else demands parking priority, refer them to Kohran." "Er, Boss... Half of Fenspace is afraid of Kohran; they think she'll blow up their ships on a whim." Noah smiled. "Yes, I know. If we're lucky, that'll cut down on the congestion." He turned to the tech on duty. "Have they answered our hails yet?" "No, sir. They're maintaining radio silence and headed for or past the L3 point." "Damn." He toggled the intercom to the station's turret. "Kohran, there's still no answer from the bogie. Prep one, I repeat, ONE, kaboomite missile, just in case. I hope we won't have to use it."
--
Rob Kelk Sticks and stones can break your bones, But words can break your heart. - unknown  ![[Image: Iching-hexagram-46.png]](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/f4/Iching-hexagram-46.png) Hexagram 46 - Pushing Upwards (Ascending), Earth over Wind Pushing Upward has supreme success. One must see the great man. Fear not. Departure toward the south Brings good fortune. Within the earth, wood grows: The image of Pushing Upward. Thus the superior man of devoted character Heaps up small things In order to achieve something high and great. Earth Orbit Altitude: 250 km Inclination: 51.5 degrees Ground Track: Just south of Pensacola, FL Skimming the atmosphere, the valiant research vessel USSR Ptichka drifted in a low parking orbit across the Gulf of Mexico. Having just taken on loads for a NASA contract, the crew were finishing strapping down the last of the gear, stowing the groceries and otherwise getting ready for the long haul out to Saturn. On the flight deck, the commander was engaged in Serious Business. "Steve, listen." Mal said into the phone for what felt like the fifth time that day. "You've got to face facts: we don't have the room. Between the instrument packages for Titan, the powerpacks for Cassini, the communications relays, the launch cradles for the communications relays *and* the Imax cameras, our cargo bay is *packed.* If you want us to haul more gear out, you're going to have to pay for an external cargo pod... Double, maybe triple the current contract... Maybe it's robbery, but we've got bills to pay, too." Alert lights flashed on the control panel. "Uh, Mal." "Hold that thought, Steve." Mal muted the phone and looked over at Elena. "What is it?" "We've got a launch indication coming up on our track." Mal looked a bit puzzled. "So? Launching things into orbit is the new taste sensation sweeping the country." Elena tapped at the laptop bolted to the center of the console and pointed at the display. "Yeah, but *that's* gorram different." Mal looked at the display, taking a few seconds to process the numbers. Very calmly, he unmuted the phone and said, "Something just came up, Steve. I'll call you back later," and hung up without an acknowledgement. "Christ on a pogostick," he muttered. "That's insane. Where's it coming from?" Elena looked at the ground track. "Uh. West Virginia?" "Really? Huh. I thought Flint's crew were trying to build a time machine, not a worldship." "Guys!" Shad called from the aft station on the flight deck. "NORAD just lit up like a Christmas tree! Air defense radars, squadrons scrambling all up and down the eastern seaboard.. and I *think* they might just have turned on the NMD battery at Andrews. What the hell's going on down there?" "Somebody just launched something motherfucking huge," Mal replied. "What's it's altitude?" Elena focused on radar returns. "About 5000 meters, rising steadily but not very fast." "Collision threat?" "Probably not." Elena ran the figures through her head. "We'll be almost directly overhead when it breaks atmo, but not for very long." Mal looked thoughtful. "Almost directly overhead, huh? Hm..." Switched on the intercom. "Hey, Calc! Get the forward and ventral cameras set to record and aimed. Ptichka'll have the coordinates. And get the site ready for continual updates, we've got something big happening!" "Stellvia just got the launch indication," Shad said from his station. "*And* they're yelling about it on all frequencies." The intercom crackled. "I've got the cameras aimed," said Calc. "And... oh my, that's a big one, isn't it?" "That is is. Keep filming! And call Kandor, get them to throw another server on the pipe, we're gonna get hits tonight!"--- Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
I woke up when V strobed the main MFD at me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, again, and yawned. As my vision focussed, V popped up on the screen, and looked concerned.
"What's wrong, V?" "well, boss, the big hunk of land.. isn't talking. I talked to Stellvia, and they aren't getting anything from it, either." "Hrm. Are there any active receivers?" "One, on an FM station, that I can see" "Can you hit it?" "Uhmmm.. not very well, but I think I can push one of my transmitters that low." "Do it. Burn the 'mitter if you need to, we can get spares. Ready to record message?" "go ahead, boss." "Attention unknown land mass. Please activate your comms! If you have no radio comms, please start flashing your lights. My name's Wiregeek, and I'm a friendly, and I'm driving a 1999 Dodge Stealth, and I'll be close enough to hunt for an airlock soon." "Got it on the chip boss" "Go ahead and send it. Loop it until there's a response, or until we get there.. or until the transmitter burns out." "Roger dodger, boss." I pondered and fiddled for a bit with the receivers, but nothing was coming out of the near-spherical mass except a bit of 60hz, and that was spectacularily uninformative. "Hey Sparky?" "'sup?" "Go ahead and cruise over to Stellvia, I'm gonna head straight for this newcomer. I'll call if anything comes up." "Okey dokey. There gonna be room for me?" "You're driving a 4000 pound steel behemoth, just sit on someone!" "right.. oh well, I needed to talk to a 'bot about a man, anyway." I let that confusing conversation trail off, and as the black and tan Suburban drew away from me, I cranked on all normal speed, and shot through the eternal night, towards an unknown rendezvous.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
When the message concluded, we looked around at each other for a moment, then Joe bopped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Lights!"
I pushed up my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You realize we've just spent two years so intently focussed on growing the ship that we paid no attention to little things like, oh, a two-way radio or running lights. Or a name on the bow, for that matter. Not that we actually have a bow." "Well, we have been busy with jobs and raising nearly a dozen extremely energetic kids during that time," Kat pointed out. "We were bound to miss something." "Yeah, but why this?" I pinched the bridge of my nose some more. "Okay, so what do we do?" "It seems to me that we need to open up one of the garages for him to land in," Alison said. "Mmm. Garage." We turned to look at John, who was leaning back in his chair, itself leaning back on two legs. His eyes were half-closed, and he almost seemed to be asleep. "The Saturn 0 and 1 are both 'waved, and they're in the east garage. Use their headlights and guide him in." "Good idea, O Lord!" Scott barked. "Right," I nodded. "That's better than anything I can think of -- let's do it." -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
You would not believe the phone call I just got from Stellvia. Cynthia said, coming through the hatchway..
Oh yeah, what's that? I asked, only half paying attention. Jeremiah and I were playing catch in the now empty cargo hold while waiting for Toni to finish her math homework. Perry was sitting a few feet away, up to his elbows in the guts of some PC tower. He didn't even bother looking up. She skirted the two of us and sat down on the hood of the L.R.D.Apparently, there's a new station in town. Just took off today. Land grab from what I've heard. Ok, that was a little more interesting. Really? Where from? Not a lot of these had gone off. It took a lot of planning, resources, and secrecy since places like The Island and Hephaestus lifted. Nears as they can figure, West Virginia. Big ass chunk just up and floated away, Cynthia replied, a touch of glee coming into her normal curt tone. Perry looked up from what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. Wow, bet that made the guys in Cheyenne Mountain piss themselves a bit, NORAD isn't technically based in Cheyenne Mountain anymore Jon. Jeremiah pipped in while catching my last throw. I know. Broke Dad's heart when they moved it to Peterson. Anyway, how big a chunk we talking about? Bout a half mile diameter sphere. Cynthia's timing was exquisite. The baseball was just leaving Jeremiah's had when she finished, giving me just enough time for my jaw to drop and turn to stare at her, incredulous. Luckily the words 'half mile' spoiled his throw enough so it didn't brain me in the temple, causing hilarious amounts of cranial damage. But the side of your ribs isn't exactly a tender caress either. While I danced about and swore, Jeremiah tossed his mitt into the L.R.D's open driver side window and began to leave the hold, blatantly neglecting his bodyguard duties to defend me even if the attacker was technically himself. Air Force Space Command would have lit up its defense grids immediately, and Europe and Russia probably weren't far behind. Even if things aren't as tense as they used to be, something like this would make the brass shit a brick. The four of us made our way to the Wheelhouse, where we stared dumbfounded at grainy images of a significant chunk of Appalachia, floating in space. Well, three of us stared, Cynthia just looked bemused. Perry was the one who broke the silence. Christ on a bike, do you know how much lift it would take to make a chunk of dirt that size break orbit? Jeremiah simply nodded but I shook my head. Not a clue really, but even I know it'd be pain in the ass to even wave that much stuff. Remember how long it took to make the Truth space worthy? We lapsed into silence again for a few minutes, before Jeremiah said. Well, guess it would be the neighborly thing to do to go say hi, his East Texas drawl exaggerated for comical effect. I grinned. I reckon so. And I bet they've got some stories to tell. Thia, tell your dad I'm about to piss him off again. Aw hell, a fifth voice said from the hatchway, I hate it when we speed. The rolling makes me sea sick. More grinning all around. Now now Toni, the path of a Historian is fraught with peril. She folded her arms and huffed, the epitome of teenage stoicism in the face of adult idiocy. You always say that.--------------- -Jon Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. -Poster on USSMariner.com --- Jon "And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"
* * *
"The fact is," Eric said, as he strode down the corridor, "whoever they are, they're already a major player. A superpower." "C'mon," Gin shot back, "they just got here. Unless that thing is a secret project by one of the fractions, it's gotta be crewed by newbies." Eric frowned, as he considered this. "Well...it's big, round...I guess it looks a little like a Death Star..." Gin stumbled to a halt, nearly tripping. Eric stopped, holding a hand out - but she shoved it away, finding her balance. She gave Eric an incredulous look. "Okay," Eric admitted, "not really. Still, fact is...that's an insanely big ship. Or mobile station. Whatever..." Gin snorted. "It's big and it moves." "Right," Eric said, as they continued walking, "that's enough for influence. Respect. Lifting something like that from 'daneside...apparently in secret, since this is the first we've heard of it. Can you imagine the bragging rights? That's the real Fen currency, you know that." "Mm-hm," Gin pursed her lips. "Annnd there's the fact...well, if Stellvia's right, that thing's a land theft. Unreal Estate. It's a chunk of floating ground more than a klick across. That has to be a new record." "So what," Gin asked, "they're the new Commie Threat, and we need to build a nuclear arsenal?" "Nah," Eric replied, with a grin, "I, for one, welcome our new Soviet overlords." Gin sniggered. "Seriously?" "No-oooo, but I hope they're friendly," Eric answered, crossing himself. "Didn't know you were Catholic," Gin said, squinting at the gesture. "I'm not. But I'd pray towards Mecca if I thought it'd help." They reached the personnel entrance to Docking Bay Two, the hangar reserved for Island support craft and official deliveries. Eric and Gin passed through the airlock in short order, heading to the ship preparing for launch. "Hey, cap'n," Katie chirped. She was standing near the aft of the ship, overseeing a band of cargo-toting robots. She looked up at their approach, tucked her clipboard under her arm, then delivered a sharp salute. "We're almost loaded up, and Matthew's just about done with pre-flight." Eric frowned. "Matt? Aren't you the duty pilot?" "He says it'll be a cold day in hell before he lets me fly a mission this important..." Katie gave a guileless look. "...I have no idea what he's talking about, do you?" Eric and Gin exchanged a significant glance. "Uh," Gin said, "no idea. None whatsoever." Katie nodded happily. "Thought so!" Eric shook his head, then studied the scene. The ISS Delphinus was at the end of a very strange line. The converted yacht had its cargo hold open, and a chain of brightly-coloured little robots were loading boxes inside it. The robots were throwing stuff to each other in a strange game of pass-the-parcel. Gin was puzzled. "Why are we bringing all this stuff?" Katie tapped her clipboard. "Standard greeting package. Goodwill junk, y'know. Emergency supplies, in case something's gone wrong in their lift...oh...and some of the Fisherbots are coming too." Gin gave the little robots a suspicious stare. The plastic automatons were ubiquitous on the Island, a fact of life. But they still freaked her out a little. "Fisherbots...why, do you expect trouble? Security, repair force?" "Nope," Katie replied, "they just wanna come with." Silently, Eric tapped Gin on the shoulder. She turned...and followed his arm, as he pointed. Gin blinked. Once, twice, three times. "Why," she asked, "is that Fisherbot wearing a god-awful Hawaiian shirt? And is that a camera?" "Tourist," Eric said, blandly. Gin placed a hand over her face. "Sorry I asked." Katie laughed. "Better get on board. Matt was looking for you." "Right," Eric nodded. He headed for the boarding stairs, pausing halfway up to rub his hand against the dolphin painted on the ship's prow. Gin followed. They took their seats on the bridge, behind the pilot's chair. Matt ignored them as they entered, running through the last of his pre-flight checklist. Only when he was finished - and the other two strapped in - did he turn round, looking over his shoulder. "Hey," he called, "any updates?" "No," Eric said, "they're still not answering any signals. Hephaestus is on site, Wire Geek's trying to dock or land with 'em...in a small craft, I think. Stellvia control wasn't too clear when they relayed that." "Whoever they've got on the comm has really lousy phone presence," Gin groused. Eric brushed her complaints aside. He'd heard it before. Gin thought everyone had bad communication skills. "Situation'll probably change before we get there," he said, "but I don't see any point delaying. Stellvia's expecting heavy traffic...half of Fenspace wants to get a look at this thing." As he spoke, Katie entered the bridge, taking her seat. She started fastening her harness, before stopping. She gave Eric a funny look. "Er...Eric?" "Yeah?" "Don't you get sick or something whenever you leave the Island?" "Yeah," Eric shrugged, "that's my biomod." Katie tilted her head. "Sooooooo..." Eric smirked. "I'm not missing this." Matt echoed his grin. "Damn straight." "As opposed to what," Gin quipped, "damn homosexual?" "I have," Eric declared, loftily, "a great and true platonic love for any flying landmass. I wish to kiss it for myself." Gin pretended to throw up. Matt rolled his eyes, and strapped on his headset. "ISS Delphinus. Requesting permission to launch. Quickly. Before Eric makes any more jokes." (I'm not sure exactly who on Stellvia Gin was talking to, to give her the impression of 'bad phone presence' ... but it doesn't really matter. Eric's right in that she'd complain no matter who she had to talk to.) -- Acyl 
I gotta say - I'm so damn happy that this thread sparked some discussion, ideas and story fragments. ^_^
Carry on! More! -Logan ----------------- "Wake up! Time for SCIENCE!" -Adam Savage -----------------
"Scott! Bob! Don't go out yet!"
Nina's yell halted us in our footsteps. As one we turned around to see her and her cousins Carl and Max running after us. The three were all within a couple years of each other, and had always been thick as thieves, so it was no surprise to see Nina ringleading them again. She had a bundle of some sort in her arms, while Max trotted along behind her juggling a roll of duct tape. Further behind, Carl strolled along with a big grin in his face. I shared a look of amused incomprehension with Scott. He shrugged. A few moments later Nina stood in front of us, gravely rocking back and forth on her heels and toes. At twelve years old, she was already nearly five feet tall, and she had her mother's blonde hair; unlike Kat, though, she kept it cut short, not quite shoulder length. As she peered at us through her glasses, she held out the bundle. "Here. We thought maybe you could hang this over the garage door." "Thanks, I guess." I took the bundle, which was looking quite a bit like a folded sheet, and began unfolding it. After a moment Scott got into the game, and then the two of us began to chuckle. Broad stripes of what looked like indelible art marker, the kind with a two-inch-wide felt tip, spelled out "HI NEIGHBOR! WE'RE FRIENDLY!" Smiley faces two feet across flanked the greeting. "Oh yeah," Scott said, laughing. "We can use this." Grinning, I nodded. "Maybe we should add, 'AND A LITTLE STUPID, TOO'." -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
Re: Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky
03-14-2007, 03:25 PM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2017, 09:27 PM by robkelk. Edit Reason: formatting fix )
Hey, Bob, I don't think you need to write the GC launch story any more - we're doing it for you...
I'm going to be busy for a while, so:
--
Rob Kelk Sticks and stones can break your bones, But words can break your heart. - unknown
The pair of Saturns guiding me in with their hazard lights were a _very_ good sign, and the actual sign..
Well, I set V down and waited until the air pressure outside of her was air again, instead of vaccum, and popped the door. I unfolded myself from V's driver's seat, and laughing, handed a walkie-talkie to the older of the two partially de-suited civilians in the garage. "Hi, folks! My name's Nick, I go by Wiregeek or WG.. did you seriously not bring any sort of radio with you?" OOC: Bob, do you have some character descriptions handy? I keep seeing you as a happy Howard Tayler (www.schlockmercenary.com), and I don't think that's quite accurate.. Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
(Kokuten, I'll post basic descriptions of folks in the Characters thread as soon as I write'em up, okay? Meanwhile, only Scott and I are there to greet your character; everyone else is back at the "bridge"... in a scene I haven't written yet.)
After thanking Nina and the boys for the banner, we folded it back up and then hopped into a golf cart. (We'd gotten a dozen scrapped carts dirt-cheap a few months earlier and 'waved them all, both as practice for the eventual conversion of all our cars and trucks and to use in getting around the ship after we sealed the dome.) It was one of the ones that had come out of the 'waving something like a hovercraft, or maybe a landspeeder -- it floated a foot or so off the ground, bouncing gently but not far when the two of us climbed aboard. It took just a couple minutes to drive the quarter-mile down Blue Horizon Boulevard (or rather, the segment of it that came with us) from "town hall" to the east garage/air lock. Suiting up for vacuum took a only little longer. One of our number, Joe, was until launch an aerospace engineer. He'd worked for several of the big-name air/space firms, mostly doing up wiring harnesses for satellites and space probes. In the years he'd been in the business, he'd made a lot of casual contacts, and one of them had given him a line on perhaps the most useful bit of salvage we'd come across during the GC's development -- a set of three space suits, Apollo-vintage Michelin-Man outfits. They weren't real space suits -- they were a set of mockups for display that were being thrown out for the dual sins of being too old and deteriorating -- but they'd been made by the original contractor for the actual Apollo suits, and were damned close to the real thing, lacking only the working guts. Well, if there was one thing handwavium could do, it was make working guts. So we snapped them up. We installed our own basic air and comm gear into each one and then dropped them into a tank of 'wavium. We tossed in a (new) copy of Heinlein's Have Spacesuit, Will Travel for flavor, cast a circle around the whole thing, and let them soak for a day or so while Kat intermittently sang filksongs nearby. The results looked more like costumes from a 1950s B-movie than Apollo suits, but as far as we could tell from our testing, they were properly airtight, hellishly strong, and had an operating time measurable in days. To our surprise they automatically resized themselves to fit their wearers perfectly, from tiny Nina to Scott's somewhat oversized frame. And just as an added extra bonus, they were also incredibly easy to get into and out of -- like putting on a set of overalls. Which is how it came to be that, only a few minutes later, Scott and I were learning just how well duct tape worked in space as we hung Nina's banner over the garage door during our first-ever excursion into hard vacuum. (Surprisingly well, as it turns out.) Below us, the two Saturns' headlights blazed out into the black from the open garage door. Hopefully our prospective visitor would notice our attempts at a beacon -- but one disadvantage of having a ship the size of the GC is that both the door and the banner were little more than specks on its huge surface. High-contrast specks, at least the garage, but specks nonetheless. Spotting our efforts to welcome him would be more luck than anything else. Fortunately, luck was with all of us. -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
Oh, that is too cool. The community feel of the Grover's Corners crew is really well done, as are the mechanics of having a flying town that damn big. Nice.
I'm guessing I won't have much call to post for a bit, until this story progresses a little further - for a while, as events progress. Since the Island delegation'll take a while to arrive. I may do a couple 'in-transit' scenes, tho, as more information filters into the Fenspace Collective about the newcomers. We'll see. =) -- Acyl
When we had pressure in the garage again, Scott and I popped off our helmets and waited for our guest to disembark. He was in shirtsleeves when he got out of the car, which surprised me but on consideration I realized it was pretty much to be expected. He stepped forward, handed me a walkie-talkie, and introduced himself.
I took the walkie-talkie, then shook our visitor's hand. "Welcome aboard, Nick. I'm Bob, and this is Scott." I looked mournfully at the radio. "Yeah, we're a little slow. Completely forgot about comm systems." I looked up and grinned. "But we've got a sensor suite to beat the band, thanks to my wife." "Speaking of whom..." Scott said with a grin. I nodded. "Right, right." I turned toward the pressure door at the back of the garage. "Come on in," I said as I undogged the latches and swung it open. Nick stepped through behind us, then stopped short, with his mouth open. I chuckled, realizing just how much I was going to enjoy doing this with every new visitor. "Welcome to Grover's Corners!" I announced. "Grover's Corners?" Nick echoed. "Grover's Corners," I confirmed, nodding. "It's only a model," Scott quoted, sotto voce. "Shhh!" -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
"This.. this is amazing." I craned my head around one way and another, soaking in the sights.. It took a few years to truly get accustomed to the hard, sharp-edged quality of the light on Hephaestus, but this place felt like Anytown, Iowa, Population "A Few". My ears couldn't detect any hissing or noise, the two gentlemen walking with me (one unobtrusively behind in case I put on my Black Hat, good man!) seemed to be a _happy_ excited..
"So I guess _your_ dome held up, then?" I blurted out, a rueful grimace on my face.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
I raised an eyebrow. "I take it you had one that didn't?"
Nick ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that. I got shot at by a fighter jet on my way up, and it blew my containment all to hell." "Well, that sucks," Scott said from behind us. "You look like you came out of it okay, though." "Almost didn't." Nick was still staring, trying to take everything in. "But some friendly folks came to my rescue." He glanced over at me. "When you didn't respond to any hails, I sort of assumed you were having trouble along the same lines." "Nope, no trouble," Scott declared. "Other than a two-year-long brainfart about radios," I grumbled. Nick chuckled. "Which reminds me," I went on. "Do you need to check in with anyone so they don't think we went and kidnapped you or something?" -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
(Meanwhile, back at the -- nearly literal -- ranch...)
After Bob and Scott had left, John lowered his chair to all four legs with a loud thump, and stood. The deceptively sleepy look in his eyes vanished. "Okay," he said, "while they're doing that, let's get all the kids here in the blockhouse." Peggy looked over at him. "Huh? Why?" He smirked. "I'm not quite as trusting as Bob is. We only have this 'Wiregeek''s assurances that he's friendly. I'm not going to assume anything. This is the safest, most defensible place on the ship, and I want the kids in here until we know for sure." He walked around the conference table and headed for the stairs to the building's lower levels. "Wait, wait," Peggy pressed on. "Where are you going, then?" John turned to look back at here, and one side of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile that in the right light might have been called "evil". "I'm getting the guns out of secure storage." He paused, then added with a bigger smile, "And the Bondo grenades." A moment later the sound of his boots on the stairs down echoed through the control room. Kat raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "He's got a point. Let's go round up the kids." Helen sniffed. "If he's got that much of a point, someone ought to watch the sensors. There might be someone else coming. Even if we can't talk to them, we can at least see them coming. And one more thing. Officer Friendly!" she called out, rolling her eyes slightly. The huge plasma screen at the end of the room flickered, and the image of man dressed in the 1950s version of a police uniform appeared. He was blond and blue-eyed, with a face that was strong without being craggy, and an open, friendly-seeming smile. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked, pushing up the bill of his uniform cap with the nightstick he held in his right hand. "We've got a visitor coming in at the east garage. Keep an eye on him, please," Helen barked. "Right-o, ma'am," the AI said with a sharp nod. "We don't think he's up to anything bad," Peggy added, "we just want to be careful." The AI's eyes tracked over to her. "Understood, ma'am. Officer Friendly is on the beat!" He saluted her with his nightstick, then vanished. The screen returned momentarily to the view of the receding earth before being replaced with the image of a regal middle-aged woman wearing a white gown and a crown of ivy and grape leaves. She stared down her nose for a moment, then cleared her throat. "I, too, shall be watching the interloper," she declared imperiously. "He's not an interloper, Gaia," Kat said patiently. "Not yet, at least." The female AI sniffed derisively. "He is from Outside," she said simply. "Can't argue with that," Nancy said with a laugh. -- Bob --------- Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as "City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow Quote:WG smiled and tapped the small black rectangle at the front of his hatband, which blinked a blue light in response. "Nope, my lady V is keeping an eye on me, and letting most everyone else know what's going on." He smiled broadly, settling his hat back in place. The biggest question I have, Bob, is what, aside from comms and if anything, you folks _need_, though I'm betting it isn't much - you're much better prepared than I was, and better-landed to boot." "Better landed?" Bob asked, quizzicaly. "I only brought up ten acres with me, and not nearly so much life.. I'm.. impressed, I have to admit." Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979  Quote:>>Blows Whistle!!! PUNNING -- Player assigned to Pay for next round of drinks. I just can't see them building a tethered station and the implied space elevator, without it becomming a war zone. Oh, wait, according to the source-material, it did become one. Quote:The drive field would act as a combination Structural Integrity, Atmosphere Containment, Defensive, and Navigational shield. You wouldn't find any leaks in the hull untill you actually shut down the drive. ![[Image: devil.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/devil.gif) You can land on a planet, just make sure that you don't squish anyone/thing important (to you any ways).
And the Institute gets in on the show....
-------------------------------------------------------- The Jet Car, in atmosphere, can go Mach 7 at 35,000 feet without the slightest shudder. However, it does leave a heat signature the size of a Boeing 757, and has a tendency to make air traffic controllers go totally spare. Which, in this case, was the intention. Yeager Tower, this is HB88. We have concluded our acceleration test and will be ascending to LEO on vector four-zero. Once again, please accept the Institutes apologies; we filed that flight plan two weeks ago. HB88, we have the flight plan here, along with the confirmation. No apologies necessary. We must have had a clerical error. No harm, no foul, Tower. Yall did a bang-up job of shuffling traffic, and your pilots all had their eyes open and their hands steady. Next time, well double-check the confirmation. Affirmative. Clear skies, HB88. Say hello to Buckaroo for us. Will do. I snap the channel switcher over to another frequency and add, Sorry about the mix-up, Hunter Team. We honestly didnt know yall were out there. The voice on the channel is as dry and sarcastic as only a jet jockey can get after a near-collision. Of course you didnt, HB88. Youre lucky we didnt decide to drop a heatseeker down that oversized Zippo you call a main engine. I smile. You need to check out the flight cameras from that little incident over South Dakota, Hunter One, before you do that. Itll save you the disappointment. You guys have a safe trip home. Theres a pause as the implication that the Jet Car can outrun missiles sinks in. A chuckle comes across the wire, followed by, Acknowledged, HB88. You drive the speed limit, next time you decide to fly over West Virginia. Message received, Hunter One. This is HB88, over and out. Buckaroo looks out at me from his monitor. Nothing, he comments good-naturedly, is sadder than a jet jockey with thruster envy. Aw, come on, Buckaroo. Sometimes a turbine is just a turbine. He smiles at that, and then picks up the radio in his virtual cockpit. Buckaroo likes to have a background when he talks to us; he says it helps him set the mood to the conversation. As a result, when hes running the Jet Car with us, he sits in a virtual cockpit, working his side of the controls. World Watch One, this is Buckaroo Banzai. Whats our status? J.s voice comes over the speaker. Read you five by five, Buckaroo. Satellite view shows the Raptors have pulled away and are heading for home. Excellent. Anything on our VLO? Hephaestus has one of their folks on the way. Looks like theyre on final approach. The others are mobilizing. Buckaroo turned to me. Shall we go meet the neighbors? Since were already out for an evening drive? Why not? There are plenty of reasons not to, Blackstone. True, but at this point in time, none of them apply to me. Buckaroo turns back to the radio. World Watch One, advise our newcomer that Blackstone is on his way. Acknowledged, Buckaroo. The Jet Car pushes its way up through the top of the sky and into the Black, and we point our nose at the chunk of land that we had passed under on the way across West Virginia. Someone in Strategic Air Command took offense at folks choosing to move 250 acres for which they held title and paid taxes. Running at full burn across the sky in an unannounced test flight caught their attention before the Raptors had a chance to do anything they might have regretted. Not that any standard ordinance could have taken a chunk out of something that big that had been waved, but you never can tell. Nice bit of finagling there, Buckaroo, with those flight plans. I dont know what youre talking about, he replies. His eyes are merry though, and hes got that smile that he gets when he does some sort of mischief that benefits more people than it hurts. Like the smile of a Buddha, enigmatic and peaceful. I filed those plans weeks ago, he adds. Remember, we discussed it last Sunday. Last Sunday, I was cutting a marble reproduction of the Venus de Milo in half at a show on The Island and restoring it without a mark. I dont remember much of anything except the whine of the saw and the applause. Oh yeah, we talked about it during intermission. I hope the data is good. That it is. Ill talk to J. about it later. Hes not fibbing on that. Its a little known fact that Buckaroo is constantly improving the Jet Car. Its fast right now, but he thinks it can go faster. The VLO isnt hard to find, since it went straight up from West Virginia and seems headed for Low Earth Orbit. I give it a slow flyby, taking in the scenery behind the dome. Lots of green. If these folks are farmers, I suspect theyll do a healthy business in produce, which is always scarce up here in Fenspace. I wonder if they can grow avocadoes. Last ones I found at Kandor looked like they walked there, and I could kill for a good dish of guacamole. I loop back around on a slow approach, holding position so they can see the Jet Cars silhouette. The Institutes PR makes us pretty recognizable, even without Buckaroos initials on the door. No hails yet, he says. Maybe we should knock? Sounds good to me, Boss. I pick up the mic and spin the tuner to the citizens band. Breaker, breaker, this is HB88, hailing the very pleasant real estate off my portside window. I am requesting permission to dock and say howdy. Im not selling Amway, nor am I handing out literature. Yall decent for visitors, or should I come back later? ----------------------------------------------------------- (The "incident over South Dakota" refers to the Jet Car's inaugural flight, in which it outran a Sidewinder by shifting into fifth gear. It would be classified, if it hadn't been filmed by attendees at Burning Man.) Ebony the Black Dragon Senior Editor, Living Room Games http://www.lrgames.com Ebony the Black Dragon http://ebony14.livejournal.com "Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you." |
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