Thread Rating:
  • 0 Vote(s) - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
[Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assemble!
[Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assemble!
#1
Here's my idea for my entry into Fenspace. Part tramp steamer, part news van, part data haven. All disfunctional family. Comments? Complaints? Nitpicks? Flames?
---------------------------------------------------
Ship Name: The Inelegant Truth
Created by Jonathon Helscher (Herr Bad Moon)
Registry Number: SPS-253
Base Hull: 175ft Alaskan Commercial Crab Fisher
Drive Type: Speed (Cruising: .07c Flank: .09c)
Owner of Record: Jonathon Helscher
Flag of Record: Nominally United States of America, but only if you squint
Purpose: Medium cargo hauler and news cataloger
Launched: April 27th, 2009
Crew:
Jonathon Helscher, Captain/Owner/Action! Historian
Cynthia Gunderson, First Officer/Pilot/Ship Surgeon
Deidrict Dieter Gunderson, Engineer
Percival Perry Doper, Communications Officer/System Administrator/AI Psychologist
Jeremiah Breckenridge, Security/Bodyguard/Cook
Toni, Ship Gopher/Official Ship Kid Sister
Supplementary Crew:
Callisto (Ship AI)
Gay Deceiver (L.R.D.'s AI)
Brother-Captain Galvius (Mainframe AI)
Supplementary Vehicles:
L.R.D. (Little Red Deathtrap): Handwaved 1990 GEO Metro. Serves as all purpose ship shuttle. Gay Deceiver vehicle AI.
Little Nicky: Handwaved jet ski which serves as a sort of space ATV for when the crew goes EVA.
Known Vehicle Quirks:
* She dives like a crippled whale: - Despite being equipped with a speed drive, given a straight line to go in, the Truth can make faster headway than her outward appearance and even engine capabilities would indicate, but can't turn worth a damn and can be out maneuvered by ships of similar speed. No amount of tinkering with the engines has yet to improve this state.
* Rough Seas Ahead: - Whenever ship speeds exceed .06c, the Truth will begin to exhibit gravitational anomalies that resemble a ship rolling in rough seas. Increasing to flank exacerbates this.
* Gravity's a fickle bitch: - Whenever the ship enters its night, artificial gravity ceases to work until dawn. Nobody knows why this happens, so everyone sleeps in sleeping bags that are anchored to the floor.
* Bitch, get your hands OFF my men! - The ship AI Callisto is jealously protective of the male members of the crew, treating any women that speak to them with deep suspicion, let alone those who board her. This barely hidden hostility becomes an order of a magnitude worse for girl AIs that the Truth comes in contact with. This makes the crew something of social pariahs in some fendoms, and like B.A. on A-Team, the crew have to come up with lurid and increasingly ridiculous ways to work around this. This jealously does extend somewhat to First Officer Cynthia, but not to ragamuffin Toni, who's too much of a cutie pie.
* While the enemies of the Emperor still draw breath, there can be no peace: - Something went wonky with the application of handwavium to Jon's personal computer during its uplifting to its current status as super!computer. The AI was supposed to be a nondescript male of the faceless office worker type. But somebody didn't do a good job of purging the hard drive so instead, what was created was one with the heroic, if scary and kinda evil religious zealots of the Imperial Space Marines of the Gamers Workshop variety. Brother Captain Galvius thinks of himself as a fallen soldier serving as a machine spirit entombed in a virtual coffin. He considers Jon to be his Chapter Master and the other members of his crew to fill various roles in line with those in the Empire of Man. Given the state of relations with most of the governments on Holy Terra, and the Truth, Galvius believes they have come under the influence of foul Chaos sorcery and encourages anybody who will listen their next job should be to burn the heretics. Still, he does his job of data retrieval and broadcast of Jon's writing with competence. His security functions are actually kind of scary after you really look at them, and Perry gets queasy just thinking about it.
* The enemy of my enemy is my enemies' enemy: - The three principle AIs that live on the Truth all hate each other. If allowed, they will bicker to an extent that ship efficiency will drop 30% until they are hard lock separated from each other's networks.
Known Crew Quirks:
* Are we there yet? - The social dynamics on board eerily resemble those of a family on an extend road trip, constantly getting on each others nerves and only getting along when they can jump ship for a day or two. And though Cynthia has reluctantly taken up the role of Ship Mom, nobody wants to be the Dad. Jon owns, and theoretically is in charge, of the boat, but he acts more like a passenger and only gives orders akin to go here how fast can we get to Luna? and Hey, I just got off the comm with some of those weirdo's in charge of terraforming Venus. Yeah.... we can't go back there for awhile. And guess where we gotta be by Friday. Dieter gives ever indication of settling into the surly uncle model. Perry is too busy trying to avoid having a nervous breakdown keeping the peace between the AIs. And Jeremiah says that he doesn't get paid enough for that. Toni just rolls her eyes at not being asked her opinion.
* Fighting the media is like wrestling with pigs. You might win but you will get dirty: - Don't call them journalists. Just don't. It won't end well.
* This will keep me from curing cancer, making it so my birthday isn't a national holiday. And you know how much I hate to work on my birthday! - Cynthia has very little patients for all things Fen. While in med school, she was tolerantly amused by a roommate that was really into Buffy and Angel, but living in Fendom has left her stressed out and jaded. Geeking out over something in her prescene causes a angry explosion in a one to one ratio.
* They kick high.... really high: - Perry's has a poorly hidden facination with magical girl shows and the members of Crystal Millenium and would have eventually joined the faction if he hadn't taken a job as sysadmin for a apparent cargo hauler. His mood improves when in contact with fellow enthusiasts, but this doesn't happen often given the rest of the crews scorn for the genre.
* F*ck you! F*ck you! F*ck you! You're cool. F*ck you! I'm out. - Dieter Gunderson hates everyone on board except his daughter Cynthia, and only stays on because he can't bear to see his beloved ship captained into an asteroid by some punk suburbanite kid who never had to really work for a living. So he sits in the engine room or the cargo hold, tinkering with various hardtech fixes. But even there, when he can almost forget he's not hurtling through the vacuum of space, he still hates everyone. So very much.
* And Iiiiiiii will alwaaaaays luv youuuuuu! - Jeremiah is a former Secret Service agent, who left under undisclosed reasons. Physically imposing at 6'3 and having played tight end for Maryland, he knows how to use it for intimidation factors when necessary. He makes a mean curry though.
* If this were cave man times I'd be married and have kids! - The runaway orphan answering only as Toni has a tendency to be moody, short tempered, sarcastic, flighty, lazy, smug, and frankly a gigantic bitch at times. So she's a normal teenager. On a crab fisher. In space.
Faction: Technically none, though Jonathon is a member of the Blue Blazer Irregulars.
Home Port: Port of Tacoma, Washington State, United States of America, Earth
Current Location: Northern polar orbit around Mars
Status: ACTIVE
Trivia:
* The Inelegant Truth used to be the rusting hulk of the commercial crab fisher Autumnal Equinox, owned by Dieter. Dieter lost it in a drunken card game to Jon in the spring of 2008. Nobody knows this, but Jon was cheating in the last hand when he managed to mark the aces. To this day, Jon's ashamed of this act but will never admit it.
* The Truth serves as the base and transport for Jon's quasi-journalistic enterprise that's part blog, part gonzo reporting, part living library. She runs cargo on the side to keep the ship running and the crew fed and paid. Accusations of actual journalism annoy the crew to no end.
* The Truth mounts an aft mounted deck cannon taken from a WWII era submarine, waved to fire in space and modified do so without a crew. Towards the bow is the turret system that was scavenged from a Sherman tank. Welded and sealed to the hull and jury rigged with a firing system that can rotate the turret far faster than the original could. These, along with the ships speed, serve as the primary deterrence from Black Hats.
* Even though the car AI Gay Deceiver was named after the car from several Robert Heinlein books, Jon doesn't actually like any of them overly much. The only other car AI name he could think of was K.I.T.T and Gay's gender ended up being female so nix went that plan. He does finish all conversations with her by saying you're a smart girl, Gay, mostly because she likes it and doesn't start as many fights with Callisto.---------------
-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!"
Reply
Re: [Submission] Action News Team Assemble!
#2
speed - bump Flank to .09, bump cruise to .07 seems a bit more appropriate.
I like the quirks and the basics, you might want to get ahold of some cameradrones, neh?Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
Reply
Re: [Submission] Action News Team Assemble!
#3
What kokuten said, and even that's being generous - the Inelegant Truth can still outperform ships half its size after that change. But I don't see this as a setting-breaker.
Have you thought about how the crew might react to meeting any of the established characters? This might sharpen their characterizations...

-Rob Kelk
--
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
Reply
Re: [Submission] Action News Team Assemble!
#4
Thanks for the comments. I'm still trying to pin down some of the speed to size ratios. I wanted the Truth to be pretty fast for her size, but I didn't want to bump up against any Too Cool For School issues. I just gave my best guess.
Now that you mention it though, there should be a camera drone that follows the team around. I'll have to think about it >D
As for the crew, I have a pretty good idea of how their personalities will be after a couple years bombing around fenspace. I just didn't want to bloat the entry on stuff that I can put into a character entry.
My SI and his bodygaurd Jeremiah have adapted the best to the life, as they're going out among the masses as it were and wanted this life to start with. Jeremiah's turning into a walking warrior poet crossed with Brock Sampson's tolerance for weirdness. Cynthia's next as she's the one who deals with the business and other offical duties in regards to running the boat with stoic professionalism. But she also didn't want a life of dealing with geeks and other crap involved with running a cargo ship and has a short fuse when she gets stressed. Perry would probably be having a grand time if he wasn't constantly playing peacemaker to a trio of cranky AIs who all have forceful personalities and no desire to hide their dislike of one another. He was skittish and a little meek before, now he's less so but constantly wishing he'd taken that ad for work on Luna. And then there's Dieter. He just hates everyone and is surly in general. He's a simple soul really.---------------
-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!"
Reply
Re: [Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assembl
#5
Here's a bit of something I've been working on the last few days.
***
When the cargo crane locked into place and Cynthia saw the suited worker give a thumbs up, she didn't so much as smile as frown less. One less thing to worry about.
As jobs went, this one went as smooth as anybody could want. A simple FedEx type mission from Luna to Ceres, ferrying several loads of light industrial equipment over the period of a day. The pay was decent, they'd made good time, and offloaded ahead of schedule without any problems. All and all a nice little W in the monthly budget. Any spacer would be satisfied with a good days work.
Cynthia wasn't a spacer.
Giving a slight sigh, she eased herself into a cat vomit yellow upholstered chair that gave an 'ooof' of exhaled air and began typing at one of four computer stations on the 'bridge'. Bridge would be a polite term, but it was little more then an L shaped room with large windows in the tower that faced out over the deck and had a pair of desks built into the walls. Each of these desks had a pair of flat screen monitors that each were connected to PC towers hidden inside the desks. All of which were much nicer than anything in that room deserved to be. Callisto? she said, apparently to nobody since 'bridge' was empty save for her.
One of monitors flickered to life, and the round face of a young woman with unnaturally bright blue eyes and hair to match appeared, blinking owlishly.
Yes Cynthia, what is it? I was running a defrag, Callisto's voice, clearly annoyed at having been bothered, came from a pair of speakers embedded in the ceiling.
Cynthia bit back another sigh. Sorry Callisto, but Dad just finished buttoning up. Could you send this message to Ishimura Heavy Industries confirming we delivered the drills?
Ok. Anything else, her tone being there had better not be.
Would you connect me with somebody at Unlimited Sky Ltd.? Cynthia gave her keyboard a few final taps and the messages dissolved off screen, replaced by a cartoony icon of a winking Callisto with a pink word bubble that said 'Mail has be sent.' She took a sip from her coffee mug, and gave another not smile of satisfaction. One thing about the Captain, like any self-respecting person from the Puget Sound region, he knew his coffee.
Hold on. Callisto disappeared, replaced by a screen saver, which today seemed to be of pictures of the Sun through different filters from the SOHO satellite. After a few seconds, Callisto's voice but not her image returned.Ok, putting you through.
Filtered cyan blue star dissolved, leaving a dirty young man in his late twenties, wearing coveralls and welding goggles on his forehead. He seem vaguely startled to be talking to anybody. Howdy! I'm Dave, I'm crew manager for Blue Shift here on Free Sky Station Alpha. Um, something you needed? We're kinda busy. Mining and all. He made a few imaginary mining pick swings in the air.
Cynthia blinked once, resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the fifth time that day and forged ahead. Yeah, this is Cynthia Gunderson, I'm first mate of the Inelegant Truth. I thought I was being put through to James Leland.
Who?
James Leland. You know, guy who runs the place.
Oh, you mean The Noodle. He can't come to the phone right now, I think he's in tunnel nine. Or maybe six. Or Phobos. Dave adjusted his goggles in thought. No, probably nine. Why didn't you just call Bernie, his secretary.
I would have, but I got transferred here. I'm just trying to tell somebody that the last of the drills is offloaded and we're ready to disembark.
Oh sweet! The drills are here. There those new pneumatic ones from Japan, right? Oh, awesome! Colax and I have been feeding this bucket of wave laser pointers for weeks now! It's gonna be so friggin' cool. I think we can actually some decent results fro-
That's great! she said, making a desperate bid to keep the conversation from spiraling any farther into the black hole it already had. Could you transfer me to Bernie's line? My comm been buggy lately.
Oh. Oh yeah, sure! Dave covered his disappointment over losing yet another opportunity to talk about drills with somebody new poorly. Transferring in just a sec.
Thank you. The screen flickered, briefly showing a cartoon picture of a man standing on an asteroid in a duster with a mining hat stomping on the fingers of a bunch of suit clad arms trying to grab hold. After seeing this image painted on every hatch, bulkhead, and flat stretch of rock within a kilometer of the Truth, Cynthia instantly recognized this as the corporate icon of Unlimited Sky Ltd. That images turned into another man in dirty coveralls, this time balding and in his forties. He looked grumpy. What is it now Dave. I swear, if you are on about lasers and drills again and not opening up that auxiliary shaft like I told you an hour ago, I will end you.
Cynthia stared at the screen, nonplussed. Um, this isn't Dave. I'm Cynthia Gunderson, first officer of the Inelegant Truth. I'm just confirming that we transferred the last of the drills over to your care.
Why are you calling on Dave's line then? Bernie replied.
I got mistransfered and got sent to him. I was trying to get ahold of James Leland. she said wearily.
Who?
Big sigh. The Noodle.
Oh, why didn't you say so. He's in shaft five. I can get him for you if you want? Bernie made a motion like he was going to hit something on a keyboard.
NO! Look, can you just send me a confirmation letter saying you got your drills? I talked to Jame.... The Noodle this morning and he said he'd send it. I just don't want a record so nobody gets ripped off.
Hold on a sec. Bernie disappeared off camera and there was some rummaging sounds. Here it is. I was using as scratch paper for my crossword puzzle. Bernie came back into frame and held up a paper that looked official, if slightly doodled on. Give me a minute and I'll scan it in and send it. The screen switched back to the mascot before Cynthia could say a word.
Ten minutes later and one chewed through Bic ball point cap and Bernie returned even dirtier than he was before. Still there?
Yes, Cynthia replied, no longer trying to hide her annoyance under a veneer of professionalism.
Sorry about that, the scanner kept trying to reword the document in iambic pentameter. You should be getting it.... now. And sure enough, a slightly different caricature of Callisto appeared on a different monitor, waving about a pink envelop and shouting Mail call kids!
Cynthia rolled over to that terminal, brought up the file, and briefly scanned it to make sure it was what she wanted and not an essay on the allegorical nature of Beowulf. Right, looks like it came through clean. On behalf of Veil of History Unlimited, we thank you for your patronage. We hope to have further business with you very soon. Goodbye.
Goodby- Cynthia killed the connection with a triumphant mash of the Delete key.
Callisto?
Yes, First Officer Cynthia? Callisto digitized herself onto a far monitor, with a towel turban on her head.
What happened? I wanted to speak with somebody in management?
Well, you didn't say that. You just wanted to talk to somebody who worked over there. I got a hold of the first person I could.
Ugh. Cynthia began to rub her temples. Next time, could you put me in contact with somebody a little higher than Dave the Drill Guy from Blue Shift?
Well, I could but I wouldn't want to make a mistake, would I?
No. Of course you wouldn't. Where's the Captain?
In his ward room. I could ask him if you want?
No Calli, I'll get him. I need to talk to him about looking for a new job and there's as good a place as any. You go back to sleep. Or showering. Or whatever
Aye aye, Callisto gave a mock salute before the screen winked out. An almost, but not quite, inaudible Captain Bitchface, was whispered as the image faded. Immediately, a slightly tinny version of Callisto's voice blared out while Cynthia took a sip of coffee.
It is now 20:30 Zulu. Artificial gravity will shut down in 5.. 4... 3... 2... 1... Artificial gravity has been disabled. Normal one gee gravity will resume at 06:30 Zulu.
Cynthia sighed again, feeling a headache coming on as her once stationary coffee began to float out of her mug. She looked over at the clock. 20:28.

I hate wavetech It wasn't the first time she thought that. I certainly wouldn't be the last.---------------
-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!"
Reply
Re: [Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assembl
#6
Quote:
It is now 20:30 Zulu. Artificial gravity will shut down in 5.. 4... 3... 2... 1... Artificial gravity has been disabled. Normal one gee gravity will resume at 06:30 Zulu.
Cynthia sighed again, feeling a headache coming on as her once stationary coffee began to float out of her mug. I hate wavetech It wasn't the first time she thought that. I certainly wouldn't be the last.

As long as air pressure remained relatively constant, and Cynthia didn't actualy move the mug, the coffee would stay in the mug.
Besides, in an enviroment where you are exposed to Micro G All liquids should be in closed containers as a safety precaution.
Reply
Re: [Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assembl
#7
eh a little vibration will do it, though it might take some time. Poor Cythia, though you do a lot better job at getting the feeling of fenspace across than I do.
E: "Did they... did they just endorse the combination of the JSDF and US Army by showing them as two lesbian lolicons moving in together and holding hands and talking about how 'intimate' they were?"
B: "Have you forgotten so soon? They're phasing out Don't Ask, Don't Tell."
Reply
Re: [Submission & Story Teaser] Action News Team Assembl
#8
Next part enabled! Did some fixes to the previous part. Manytales is right, the coffee shouldn't have moved given the conditions, which was embarassingly easy to verifty. Serves me right for taking that for granted. But I still maintain nobody onboard would drink coffee out of a sippy cup Tongue
---
There's a lot of things I still haven't really gotten used, even after two years in space. Recycled food, Senshi, and the complete lack of trees. One of my pleasant surprises though is how damn cool zero G still is. Nevermind that its a pain in the ass sometimes whenever gravity cuts out at 8:30 every night, I'm freaking floating in space! How awesome is that?
It also lets me take part in my favorite two past-times at the same time. Inverted Coola Ball, and writing. Like Steve McQueen in The Great Escape, I dig grabbing my mitt and playing catch with whatever bulkhead is available. But doing that in zero g is more like an applied study in ballistic trajectories rather than just an idle way to relieve boredom. I've gotten pretty good at eyeballing where the ball will end up, because you really don't want any question marks on small, painfully hard moving objects. I don't throw very hard, I'm not dumb, but it still stings when I make, thankfully now, infrequent mistakes. But how, you may ask, can I do this while simultaneously writing? I cheat.
Galvius, open file blog entry August twelfth twenty one one. Begin dictation at the last line of the entry.
A harsh, slightly digitized male voice boomed out from a wall speaker. File open, my Lord! Dictation ready upon your mark. On the monitor, a white lettered on black background text file opened, with a blinking square cursor at the last word on the screen.
Mark 'But anybody who has spent any time among them knows that they don't have any more a clue how 'wavium works than anybody else. But there's certain elements within the population I've recently run into that still call us all 'Muggles'. Seriously, what the hell? I'll be the first to admit my only qualification out here is being able to bang some words out of a keyboard, but from where I'm standing that gives me half again as much experience as those people who walk around in their bath robes and pour 'wavium on whatever twigs and remote controls they brought from dirtside, which they then start calling wands. Which is retarded, because 'wavium's great and does fantastic things and woo go handwavium! but if you start applying it at random objects to make them 'magical' its going to do whatever the hell it wants, no matter how much you ''swish and flick'' it.'
A light but firm knock on the wardroom door interrupted my train of thought. Shit, Galvius stop dictation. I kicked off from the ceiling and oriented myself towards the door, ignoring the prerequisite 'Yes, Brother!' from Galvius. What?
Captain, its Cynthia. Do you have a minute? came the muted, flat tone of the first mate.
Yeah, float on in I figured this was probably about our next job. She'd have buzzed me if something was going wrong with the Ceres gig. Cynthia floated in with practiced ease, her long hair her tied up and trailing behind like the tail of a little yellow comet. She's taken to the spacer life so well that sometimes I wonder if she's getting biomodded for it when I wasn't looking. Like most rooms on the Truth, the wardroom isn't that big. It started out as a cabin that I'd ripped the beds out of and bolted a big ass steel desk and filing cabinet to the floor on the aft side. To the starboard bulkhead I drilled in a wooden entertainment center that you could close up and lock. In there I put in my 'waved computer and twenty six inch flat screen monitor. Business hadn't been bad. What's up?
Dad finished unloading the drills to the miners early. We can set course to Mars and get back around 02:30 Zulu. Sooner if you want to put the pedal down. she reported, the model of professionalism. She didn't need to tell me, I can do the math same as she could but the doctor in her keeps her thorough.
Nice. But our next job's on Triton. Didn't Calli tell you? Oh, well given that face I'd say no.
Ut oh.
No sir, it looks like she neglected to tell me. Cynthia's jaw tightened, an obvious warning sign of impending shit storm. Calli?
No response.
Calli? I tried.
Yeah, Boss? Callisto's cheery face appeared in a picture in picture on the monitor.
I thought you said you were going to let Cynthia know we were heading to Triton?
Oh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. I've been frazzled all day running malware checks that it must have got sorted into a low priority. Anyway, it's no big deal. I don't need to bother Cynthia with every little plotting course we make anyway Boss. You just tell me where!. She can help Dieter out lifting stuff in the cargo hold or deal with the clients. She'll spend more time with her dad! Calli smiled sweetly at Cynthia, the very picture of helpful innocence.
That's ok Callisto, I can handle it. It's my job after all. Cynthia replied, her words glacial.
Well, if you insist. Just trying to help you out and make the Captain's life easier!
Thank you Callisto, but you really don't have to do that.. Brrrr!
Ok then. Wouldn't want to put you in over your head! Anything else for me Boss?
Um, no Cal, that's it for now. Thanks.
No prob Boss, it's my job after all. Night Boss.
Good night Callisto. Cynthia said.
Oh, yeah you too Cynthia. Jaunty wave at me, and the picture disappeared
I'm proud I successfully kept my jaw from dropping at the exchange.
I turned and regarded Cynthia with raised eyebrows, mentally bracing myself. But I had to open my fool mouth and say what I was thinking. Wow, did you do something to piss her off?
Cynthia's expression darkened, and a fierce scowl opened up over her face like storm systems converging over Texas. No, Captain. I didn't do anything to 'piss her off.' I just tried to do my job and she's constantly interfering. I getting pretty sick of it all. I don't get this kind of crap from Gay or Galvius.
I know you guys get on each others nerves, but you need to work that out amongst yourselves.
I tried that Captian. I tried that after our first Luna run. I tried it again after we had to leave Venus. It's not ME who has the problem. You know that. And you know why. Cynthia had begun to clench and unclench her fists a bit. So of course I did my best to diffuse the situation in a smart and mature manner. Right?
Hahahahahaha.
Look, she's a little overprotective of 'her guys' but- I said evasively, putting up my hands in protest.
Goddammit Jonathon, this jealousy shit has got to stop! How the hell am I supposed to run this boat if the boat's fighting me half the time? She undermines my authority in front of the costumers, purposely misinterprets my orders, acts dumb when I call her on it, and gets sulky when she has to do HER JOB. Its affecting the Truth and how we run the real jobs! I'm serious Jonathon, you're the Captain. Do something. I'm sick and tired of her passive aggressive little jabs. She calls me Captain Bitchface under her breath! What a joke! She controls the volume of those speakers, if she didn't want me to hear she wouldn't have said anything!
Wow. First name and everything. Thia's seriously pissed off. This must have been a long time coming. Which I can look at now and go 'duh stupid' but in my defense I am apparently blind and dumb as a sack of hammers.
I took off my mitt and rubbed my eyes. I like Calli a lot. Perry and I had a vague idea of what kind of personality the AI would have, which amounted to 'fun girl.' Not vague at all I know. But she turned out better than either of us could hope. She's like the cool cousin who takes you out drinking when you visit while on vacation, then covers for you when you're hung over in front of your grandma. Dumbasses we are, we didn't predict that the handwavium would simply interpret our rather loose set of instructions in such a unforeseen manner. Callisto's in charge of most ship functions, keeping track of our heading, local objects, and most everything else having to deal with ship functions with, well the only word I can describe it is gusto. She's really good at her job, so good that Perry mostly has to manage the personality conflicts rather than any software glitches. Her biggest flaw is that she doesn't get along with anybody carrying around a pair of X chromosomes. It's been a problem in the past, but I always discounted that to her not like people who aren't crew. I know she throws Cynthia some static, but I didn't think it had gone this far. I should have learned my lesson after Brother-Captain Galvius, but shows some people don't learn lessons the first time around. The lessons need to be lit on fire from a series of bonfires that spell it out. Ok ok, calm down. I'll talk to her.
Will you really, Captain? I remember you said something like that after she told a boat load of Browncoats I moonlighted at Candy Apple Red's!
Shit. I was hoping she'd forgotten about that. Or at least wouldn't bring it up again. More eye rubbing occurred. You're right. You've been with us for almost as long as we've been out here, you shouldn't have to deal with this kinda crap. I'll get her to lay off. Really. I felt bad. Cynthia's gets crapped on a lot by some of the less tolerant Fen's for being basically a 'Dane. Unlike the rest of us on the Truth, she didn't really choose this life so much as had it shoved in her lap. I know she'd rather be making a career of being a surgeon, but she's out here in the Black with us. But Cynthia's good at it and manages to run this boat a hell of a lot better than I could have in her place. And truth be told, I tend to spoil the AIs some, because like I said they're like cousins you like but don't get to meet much and want to please.
Cynthia studied me for a moment, then seemed to deflate and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest as she floated a couple feet off the floor. So what's this job on Triton? I didn't think there was much stuff out there.
I grabbed the subject change with both hands. I'm not proud. There isn't. Just those guys on Pluto and some other small stuff. But apparently Triton's got some interesting ice cliffs for the climbing enthusiast. A couple guys went out there with their tour guide and got stranded somehow after only an hour. So we're going to go fetch 'em.
Cynthia cocked her head, confusion and annoyance evident. We're not the drunk bus Captain, why are we getting tapped for this? There are a lot faster ships out there that are closer. The Browncoats must have half a dozen in better positions than we are
No denying that. But part of the job is hauling back the minivan the tour guide was using, and the Truth can do that easy. What really marks us for the gig, though, is who got stranded. Or rather, whose kid got stranded. Cynthia groaned and buried her face in her hands. I put my mitt back on and tossed the ball towards a bulkhead. Yeah, the kid of some industry mogul back 'daneside is an adrenaline junky, and crawling around icy rocks on Earth isn't interesting enough, so whoosh off among the Fen he goes!
Cynthia didn't blink when the ball whizzed past her head, missing only by about six inches. Telling you, natural spacer. Still doesn't explain us.
I made a face. It's politics, or something close. Apparently, Daddy Warbucks has done some work with the Banzai Institute and called them for some under the radar help. Having your son be so brain dead as to get his ass frozen to death on the outer reaches of the Solar System is a sign of weakness in the business world or something. And the people at the Banzai Institute wouldn't just let somebody die if the can stop it, but they aren't anybodies bitch either and don't mount secretive, deniable rescue missions just because somebody tells them too. So long story short, the Institute gets a sizable donation, we get a phone call from Banzai for a fatty paycheck running 'salvage' to Luna and keeping our mouths shut, and Bill and Ted and their space Sherpa get saved from their excellent adventure. Everybody wins! I reached down to my right and caught the ball with a satisfying smack of leather on leather.
And we get the job because-
Right, I did Tom Cat al Shiad that favor back on The Island in 2010, and he offered me that stupid pin-
Which you stupidly accepted, forever marking you as a a big softy. Right, heard it all before Captain. Cynthia's eyes lost focus, as she chewed here lip in thought. I don't know. You never seemed inclined to care what anybody thought of the stuff you posted. And taking money for keeping quiet sounds like selling out to me.
You don't approve? I replied, quirking an eyebrow.
I'm just wondering why all of a sudden you're willing to censor yourself now. I'd like to think its not because of the money, she smoothly replied. You said history is history, and making stuff up to cover what happens is an intellectual lobotomy.
Right on! Somebody paid attention! I pumped my fist in the air once, before beginning to toss the ball into the mitt rhythmically. Seriously, while it makes a funny story to tell while drinking beer in a cantina, its not exactly the kind of Truth that needs to be shouted from the rooftops. I think I'll sleep fine knowing that some exec's kid's retarded ice climbing expedition isn't tomorrow's splash on the site. Second, the Banzai Institute are good people; the money they get will be used to help others and actually make a difference in the world. That's reason enough for me. I bounced the ball off the floor and back into my glove, only to look back at Cynthia an see the first smile on her face in two days. It was a small one, but it was there. What?
You really are a big softy. The smile was taking on the aspects of a smirk. I just made a rude noise in response and went back to playing catch. Well, she said, face back to business. I guess I should go chart a course out to Triton. We'll have to go full burn to get there before they become popsicles. Can they even last that long?
Pretty sure. Their suits are emergency survival issues, so they should have twelve hours worth of air and unless their van is completely fucked up, the guide should be able to rig up a temporary hab dome, which they should have if he's got even a lick of sense. If it were just about saving lives, I think they would have got somebody closer to give them a lift.
Cynthia stretched a bit, before kicking off and grabbing the hand wrung by the door and pivoting around. Fine. I'll go tell Dad you're going to overtax his ship again. Expect to hear from him in about twenty minutes.
I'll be sure to take up smoking pot and get so high I don't care.
Another tiny grin. Roight. Well, good luck with that Captain. Some of us work for a living
Thia?
Yes sir?
I'm sorry. 'Bout everything.
Cynthia sighed and tapped a finger against the door frame. We all have obligations, Jonathon. But meeting them isn't always easy. And with that she was gone.
I sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound being the repeated dull thuds of ball impacting padded bulkhead. After I caught the ball for the fourth time I spoke. Calli?
The wall mounted monitor blinked to life, and Calli appeared with the 'camera' zoomed out far enough to see she was dressed in bright green pajamas with little watermelons on them. Normally I would have chuckled but having to do captain shit puts me in a mood. Yeah Boss?
I just floated there with my arms crossed, giving her a flat look that I've been told can be pretty intimidating, even on my thin frame. I should hope so, I'd worked on it enough as a kid. Gradually, as the seconds passed, Calli began to sense she was in trouble and began to squirm. She never said anything though, just endured the awkward silence as the tension ratched up. I finally decided I'd roasted her enough after a couple minutes passed. You know Calli, you can be a real five star bitch sometimes.
Jon, look, if this was about Cyn-
Save it. I turned around and pushed off towards my desk, steadying myself before toeing open the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet and tossing my glove and ball inside, using my foot to keep it from bouncing out before I closed it. I scratched the top of my head and sighed. I'll deal with you tomorrow. I gotta finish this piece by tonight before we get too far out of range. Night.
... night Boss. Callisto replied quietly. I heard, rather than saw the screen wink out. My excuse was only half true. While I really did have to finish that editorial I contracted out for some of fenservers, I had enough good will with the people in charge that I could say 'I need another ten hours and get it. No, I needed to think about how I was going to deal with this situation. All I'd do now if I pressed things was getting seriously pissed off and probably start some sort of verbal scorched earth policy. All that would do is pour gasoline on the fire. No, I needed to figure out a long term and hopefully permenant fix for this mess. That required a good deal of heavy thinking and I do my best thinking right before I fall asleep or in the shower. And I'd bathed already today and water rationing didn't allow for another.
Hell. Why did I want to do this shit again? I said, kicking off to float into the middle of the room. Galvius.
By your command, Master Helscher!
Where were we?
You were heaping down words of righteous fire upon the blasphemous heads of the witches and sorcerers of the heretical Wizarding World, was his instant reply.
Close enough. Galvius, begin dictation at the last line of the entry. Mark. 'Most of the Fens who make up the Wizarding World are as even minded and reasonable as the rest of us out here, but the more... I dunno how to describe it but isolationist is as good a term as any, of them are a bunch of douche bags. I'd liken their mindset to Purebloods of their canon but I think that would be classified as hate speech by them and I'd be a marked man by countless hordes of people who carry pointy sticks and have liberal ideas of what wavium can do. I did that already with most of the Crystal Millennium crowd last year. Say what you will about those guys, and I have, but when you start a flame war with them they keep it within the spirit of the 'Net back home. Digital only, completely devoid of any relation to the actual argument, and finished when somebody fulfilled Goodwin's Law. And ignore those rabble rousers who point out it was clearly an application of Quirk's Exception...
It was going to be a long night.
---------------
-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!"
Reply


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)