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**M Fnord** · 12-20-2006, 05:32 PM

This is the designated thread for posting/reposting Convention stories. I'll start us off with the initial announcement...
We were goofing off around Saturn when the call first came in. Officially we were on the clock; a friend of a friend of a friend who worked for JPL had asked us to take some HD movies of Titan for the enlightenment of the scientific community. This wasn't what we'd signed up to do way back in the beginning, but a job's a job, it paid okay (considering the bitch of a currency conversion rate) and it was as good an excuse as any to spend three weeks out on the edge of the system. We'd canned the Titan footage and were in the process of getting a few candid shots of Cassini just for giggles when the Explain Star's email server chimed.
It was the *ship's* email, not one of our personal accounts, that meant it was something the Nation wanted to discuss. Nation email is always interesting to read; when you've got several hundred ships in the solar system representing twenty different fandoms plus maybe another three dozen independent ships & stations comprising somewhere around a quarter-million people all told, and and there's *one* all-call mailing list that everybody's subscribed to... well. From our position near where the sidewalk ends, it's fucking *hilarious,* I'll tell you that much.
Anyway, I was on pilot duty, so I punched up the old laptop we'd crazy-glued into the Star's control panel and took a look at whatever the Nation wanted to herd us into *this* time. What I got was this:
Date:
From: command@sos.co.jp (SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters)
To: all-call@nation.fan
Subj: CONVENTION!!!!
Note all fan:
We came empty here the earth of one thing of heart: Because you become the hero. Our hearts it echoes the dream of bravery in our centers, that is our obligations to those dreams fufill! Our 2 weeks of the group hearby call of SOS for splendid conference where that of heart and, at the place of Phobos it should you grasp from today. There we organize because because of the star you become the hero, start!
Everyone who obtains this message is invited. It has your boat and your story, do!
--SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters!
From the message text, I could tell two things. First, somebody needed to shoot their machine translator before it could harm helpless verbiage again. Second, we were going to have to hit the inner system earlier than I'd previously thought.
Whoever "SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters" were, they'd called a Convention. Conventions are serious business for Fen; since we moved off Earth, they've become sort of our United Nations. Every so often the movers, shakers and poseurs of the Nation get together, get drunk, get laid, exchange pleasant threats, debate the few issues that can't be handled inside our own little fractions, make a few policy statements like "bow before our might, pathetic Earthlings!" and then go home with hangovers and some interesting blackmail material. So it's not entirely unlike mundane government.
The *point* is, when somebody calls a Convention the major power players in the major fractions (along with free agents like us) *have* to come out, hear what the organizer has to say and be civil to each other for a week or so. We're so scattered through the system that Conventions aren't as regular as they used to be, so they're that much more of an event.
In this case, the SOS Brigade (whoever they were) had called for a Convention and had specifically invited *everybody*. Thankfully they wanted to use Phobos; the Martians were using it as base camp for their terraforming ops, the place had been mostly hollowed out and there was plenty of room for everybody and their rides. What they were calling the Convention *for* on the other hand... the machine translation fucked that up enough that I couldn't quite figure it out. Idly hoping that whoever was speaking at the con had better translators, I fired off a quick reply:
From: explain-star@sandwich.net (Sandwich.Net Dungeon Crawlers, LLC)
To: command@sos.co.jp
Subj: Re: CONVENTION!!!!
We'll be there with bells on. Will also bring booze from the Ringed Planet. -ES
Figuring that should keep them happy, if confuse them a bit, I turned off the email client, opened the navicomp, set up a brachistone for Phobos and turned on the intercom.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said in my best airline-pilot voice. "I'm afraid that our vacation around sunny, tropical Saturn has been cut short. We've been invited to a Convention at Phobos, so if you guys will pack up the cameras and make sure we've got enough booze to last us, we'll be on our way. Launch window in-" I glanced at the nav window "-one hour. Cockpit out."---
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!"

Rieverre · 12-20-2006, 07:00 PM

And a bit from over hereabouts.

The proximity alert was ringing.
Damnit.
Why does it always ring when I'm in the shower?
I shoved the coffin lid of the sonic shower open - I hate those things, but the Uncertainty doesn't have room for a regular one, or a large enough water supply for that matter - yanking the amp plugs as I went along. It's annoying when your shower doubles as a sound system, and even more so when it starts ringing in the middle of taking a bath.
"Four-eyes, what the hell is it this time?!"
There is no such thing as a normal AI. Never has been, and as long as we don't try and make one the hard way, there likely won't be. As an example, the first registered artificial sentience was one owned by a Japanese Fan who used to set his laptop onto some handwavium and use it in lieu of a battery when he wanted to play his h-games. Guess what got Quickened?
Just one of the reasons why governments were still mostly poking and prodding at the stuff while whatever fen had gotten their hands on it ... weren't.
Though when the flatscreen monitor on the cabin's bow-wards wall flickered with an image from the mast-mounted camera I remembered exactly why I disliked staying in parking orbit around Earth these days.
#Good morning, friend in God, can we interest you in an issue of the Watchtower?#
I hit mute, and gave the white SUV displayed a glare.
"What're they fielding?" I asked after a moment, during which I grabbed and downed a mug of chilled mocha.
"Pathetic. Baseliners, almost all the way. We shall feast on their blood!"
"Uh-huh, Tee. Whatever. Give 'em an overcharge and hijack their sound system."
"Conquest!"
The relative motion indicator I'd cobbled together out of a rangefinder and laser pointer gave a fair reading that they'd stopped, and what I could make out through their windshield showed they didn't have a clue of what was going on after Tee hacked himself in through their navigational deflectors.
I hit my commo pannel, and slotted a flash drive labeled with various 'hazardous materials' warnings.
"Good morning, asshats. As a registered citizen of the Principia Universalis I find your actions to be offensive and a violation to the Discordia Accords. This is your mandatory warning."
Then I hit the Big Red Button and made sure the camera was set to record onto storage, rather than to the usual void-buffer.
Stranded in space, because Tee was still holding their drive, the big white SUV sat and shuddered. Then the frantic armwaving started. Hmm. An hour or two of bombardment should do it. A blend of Barney, Fen reading Vogon poetry, and various other entertaining snippets was enough to convince even these guys to piss the hell off.
"Burn, mortals! Burn in your pathetic shells! Bwhahahahaha! Suffer the fires of hell!"
"Yeah, whatever," I grumbled, getting a grilled cheese sandwitch from null-storage. "Eh. Might as well check the agenda. What've I got on my planner today, Trigon?"

Handwavium comes in all sorts of different shapes and sizes, ranging from simple black cubes to a weird sort of guacamole-like ooze.
What?
Yeah, once upon a blue moon an associate got drunk enough to think switching the stuff with our dip was a good idea. The less said about that and its results, the better, though for some reason I seem to have come out of it the way I'd been when I'd come in.
The chunk that I called my own above all others was sitting smugly underneath the Uncertainty's table, humming away softly as it fed the drive-sails and pretty much everything else on board that required power.
It really was amazing. Such a little thing, and so much potential ... some used it better than others, though.
Speaking of which ... I shot a look at the navigational holosphere - formerly a disco ball, now hanging from the cabin ceiling - and grinned.
Energy sails are nifty ... or, you know, for me anyway. I don't know if anybody else has gotten these results. They don't really allow for a lot in the way of manouvering in the same way that the baseline handwavium gravitics do - changing their vector is a bitch and a half, for example - but for pure acceleration they're worth their weight in gold. Still, getting too close too anybody with them online is asking for trouble.
That's mainly why we didn't lift any old sailboat/freighter relic and try fitting it with those when Hermes Universal Deliveries was considering upscaling our little flotilla of associates with something that could carry bulk.
We were still mostly in the business of subcontracting those big jobs to people who've got the patience to maintain something big enough to pull them off, but we'd gotten our own hauler somewhere along the line.
And if I was reading the manifests right, it was heading for Phobos for some reason. I queried its Majordomo for a manifest, and found its cars loaded down with the sort of stuff you'd expect to be delivered for a ...
...
Oh, frag. I'd been wondering why I'd gotten so little mail in the past week.
"Trigon."
"Hmph."
"My mail. Now."
"First, it's 'hold all communications'. Then, it's suddenly 'my mail'. Humans. Make up your damn minds, worms."
Well, there it was. Huh. Been a while since I'd last gone to Convention, though seeing as this time I was at least heading in the right direction, more or less ...
Ah. Why not? There were no express deliveries going on that weren't being handled already.
I plotted the appropriate course adjustments into the 'helm', then reconsidered. I'd be there early if I really punched it, but what was I supposed to do with my time then? Terraforming wasn't really my cup of tea, you know.
Meh. Might as well try the long way around.
I hit the commo, and called up the space-train.
"Uncertainty here. Hullo hullo, Galaxy Express. I'm reading you've got some free space on you. Mind giving me a piggyback ride to Phobos, Maetel?"

In most ways, the Uncertainty was everything I could have hoped for. Small, nimble, capable of going veryveryfast and with just enough space there to cram in basic amenities and a bit of cargo. Alright, so it got cramped sometimes, but it was a lot better than a sedan where that was concerned.
And sure, my little nest egg the periodic cuts from Hermes made up meant I could basically trade up for something bigger in a perfectly legal way, but the boat had a bit of sentimental value as well.
Unfortunately, it _was_ a boat, and as such it was a bit iffy to land when most landing docks in Fenspace were little more than glorified parking lots.
It was hard to wrangle an actual docking slip for something of the Uncertainty's size - they were mostly there if one of the big movers decided to come a-calling - and I didn't like to resort to blackmail and threatening to withhold Dew deliveries on people to do so. That was the other, arguably bigger, reason as to why I was in the process of pulling a docking-in-transit with one of the two hangar-cars the Express usually pulled along on pretty much any sort of job.
Mast and keel folded, the former telescoping down to a more manageable size, and after a few minutes worth of remembering just why I hated landings I had the converted pocket-cruiser and smallest existing energy-sail ship in Fenspace slipping into the hangar-car's Catcher's Mitt class smallcraft docking unit.
And no, I couldn't just let Trigon do it. I'm borderline insane, not suicidal. Yes, his docking skills suck that badly.
Why do I keep him?
Eh. There's no really easy answer to that. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, or it's just that he keeps me on my toes ... nah. See, Trigon's almost as much of an ass as I can be, with positively diagnosed megalomaniac tendencies - if you believe the net's gaggle of psych tests floating around - being the least of his malfunctions, but he's the best weapon I've ever run across. Nothing else that doesn't run on a mainframe a few dozen meters long and appropriately wide can just reach out and _take_ systems out from under other people. That makes dealing with his quirks more managable, though most of the time the deal isn't quite as clear-cut as I make it sound.
Not that I don't need to get the occasional bit of rest from my so called 'partner'.
I shucked the VR headset and shoved it back into its alcove, doing the same for the manual controls - a couple of jury rigged trackballs and assorted scavenged components from video game controllers - told Four-eyes not to burn anything down, and depressurized cabin space, stepping out onto the ship's aft deck a moment later.
I made sure to check that the reason why I was so leery of leaving him along with the ship was still locked down.
It was.
Good.
Then I was too preoccupied with somebody pinning my arms down ...
... oh, right.
I made a mental note to no do the hermit thing for so long next time, because it took me a moment to registed that it wasn't, in fact, an attack, but a hug.

-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

**M Fnord** · 12-20-2006, 07:51 PM

Getting the rest of the Con entrance posted... I'll repost the meeting with Koizumi on the next bounce or so.

"Phobos Control, this is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Zero Two Three Heavy, we are inbound from Saturn and are on Mars approach. Requesting orbital insertion window and a rendezvous path for docking at Phobos Station, over."

"Understood, Phobos Control. Let us know when the queue starts to move. Zero Two Three Heavy out."
The navicomp chimed as the ATC system fed us all the data we needed to make a safe orbital insertion. Mars always had a lot of traffic - being the closest thing to an inhabitable planet not under the 'danelaw, lots of people had homesteads or camping sites or whatnot on the surface, plus with the terraforming going on you had comet drops and all sorts of other inscrutable tasks going on - and with the Convention at Phobos, things had just gotten messier. We *could* have just bulldozed our way through that mess and gone straight in, the Star has the engine power and the navigational deflectors to do it, but that would be an unfathomable breach of Convention ettiquete.
Once the navicomp had digested our route data, I switched control over to the autopilot. "Okay Ptichka," I said to the console, "get us on our track and hold her steady. I'm going to get a drink, be back in five." The console chirped agreeably and I climbed out of my seat on my way down to the foredeck.
Climbing down from the flight deck I saw the rest of the crew hanging out, as per usual when we were in transit, in the foredeck lounge. The lounge is the only large common room on the ship (aside from the fight deck, but that's not the place to socialize) and as a result we tend to use it a lot. It's a bit cramped when we're running with a full crew, but considering half the Nation lives in converted cars I think we're pretty lucky.
The lounge is also the one place onboard that has a really good view of space. There are no windows - the only windows are in the windscreen up on the flight deck - but using cameras incorporated into the hull connected to the biggest, baddest plasma TV screens we could find and then mounted on the lounge walls pasted together with a bit of spare handwavium, we had a beautiful 270-degree view of whatever was going on outside. It was *almost* better than the real thing.
"What news from the front, O my captain?"
"I've got good news and bad news," I said as I hit the deck. "The good news is we're on track for Mars orbit, no hitches. The bad news is Phobos has heavy traffic, so we'll probably be stuck waiting to come in for a landing for the rest of the day."
That announcement brought a faint, but heartfelt, groan from everybody. Three weeks out at Saturn had made us appreciate the creature comforts of the inner system. The Explain Star is a lovely ship, but sooner or later you get tired of eating, drinking and bathing in nothing but handwavium recycle.
Our chief engineer shrugged philosophically. "Ah well," he said. "At least we'll get a chance to do some rubbernecking."
Which is what we set out to do. Or that's what they set out to do, anyway. I retrieved a root beer from the fridge and climbed back up to the flight deck to oversee the orbital insertion. Ptichka could've handled it without any input from me - that's what she was designed for - but as captain I figured that I should at least be there.
Initial insertion came off without a hitch. We'd started on Mars's night side, bounced our deflectors off the atmosphere for a second or two and settled into a nice looping orbit that would bring us into our parking spot in an hour or so. I sat in my comfortable pilot's chair, sipping on root beer and catching up on my reading while Ptichka did most of the hard work.
As we crossed over into the dayside I noticed we were starting to pick up more traffic. Cars, boats, planes and other cobbled-together spacecraft drifting around us. Through the hatch down to the lounge I could sort of hear the faint sound of snarky comments and laughter as the crew judged each craft on technical and aesthetic merits. I chuckled a bit and went back to my reading.
"HOLY SHIT!" The exclamation came from the lounge, jostling me out of book trance. The sound wasn't alarm, it was more... astonishment. I blinked and thumbed open the intercom.
"Something wrong down there?"
"Mal! Check it out, starboard near the planet!" That was Elena, our resident n00b and offical Person Who Remembers The Sense of Wonder. "I've never *seen* a ship that big before!"
Curious, I took a glance outside the window, looking in the general direction Elena had said.
I have to admit, I was surprised.
About five clicks away off our starboard wing, moving maybe a few feet per second faster than us (some part of my mind idly wondered what the hell Phobos ATC was doing, grouping us so close like that) so it drifted by majestically instead of flashing past in a blur, was the biggest by-Cthulhu starship I had ever seen.
The Explain Star is big as fen ships go, running 40 meters from nose to tail, 20 meters tall and a 25 meter wingspan. This thing had to be a good 150 meters long, with a 30 meter beam. In its previous life it must've been a container ship, with a long, flat foredeck and superstructure that looked like an office building glued to the stern. The old hull had been covered with what looked like armor plating, a forest of new and interesting antennae were mounted on the superstructure and best of all, there was a gigantic weapon mount of some kind attached to the forecastle.
"Look at that!" Elena shouted into the intercom as the megaship sailed past. "Isn't that something?"
"Yeah," I replied. "That is indeed something." I watched the ship go by in silence, looking for a name or registry number I could look up once we were docked at Phobos. I *had* to get the story out of this one. The ship's stern came into view, two huge impressive-looking engines flanking the superstructure, and between them I could just about make out the ship's name painted on the fantail:
WDF WAYWARD SON
SDF-17

One of the things I truly love is landing the Explain Star in front of people who don't expect it.
The Star has a very recognizable silhouette from a distance. Most people when they first see her actually think she's one of her more famous cousins. This has worked to our advantage once or twice, spooking folks who think the 'danelaw is approaching and bugging out fast. It's gotten us into a few impromptu firefights, too, but that's a story for another time. Still, the resemblance from a distance is striking; the distinctive black and white markings and double-delta wings are instantly recognizable to anybody familiar with the History of Spaceflight, 1961-2000.
The closer you get, the resemblance starts to fade a bit. The Star's lines are sharper, her nose a little more pointed, the big engine pods missing from the aft fuselage. Most people who don't know her history think that she's a mockup, a thrown-together copy built by fanboys without a proper reference guide. Which I suppose is true, from a certain point of view. She *is* a copy, but she's the *finest* copy 1986 Soviet aerospace technology could build of the finest rocketplane technology 1974 America had to offer.
Yeah, she can be a bit balky at times, and repairing stuff usually means whanging on it with a crescent wrench until it starts working again, but I swear to you that the combination of Soviet hardware and concentrated handwavium that is the Explain Star (nee Ptichka, formerly Buran airframe #1.02) is damned near inde-fucking-structable.
She also makes one hell of an impression upon arrival. We passed into the main hanger deck and the double-takes made the extra five hours hanging out in the entry queue all the more worthwhile. Phobos Control knew us already, so they had a good parking slip already lined up.
We also had a couple of fans waiting for us. For reasons that I will never understand, the Explain Star has become something of a minor legend amongst certain fannish fractions. It probably has to do with our successful libertation of the Star from the mundane authorities. Most folks buy or build their own hulls; *stealing* one, especially one with the history and mystique of the Last Soviet Space Shuttle, tends to attract some notice even in Fenspace.
Everything from there moved more or less like we expected. We popped the hatch, greeted our adoring public, got ourselves and our shit out and ready to move, and grabbed the next turbolift up the hab levels. Once we'd hit the main level, we spent some of our hard-earned JPL money (plus a little bit of our JPL footage) on accomodations, got our stuff moved into the rooms, then hit the convention space drinks in hand, ready for action.
The first little bit was nothing more than peoplewatching with a bit of light networking. Saying hi to fen we hadn't seen in a while, talking to folks who knew us or knew the Star, generally just taking a look at how the Nation had changed since the last time we'd been in the inner system. On the far pavillion the Pirate fraction were busy setting up their recruitment center. Thankfully it looked like station security or the organizers were keeping the various ninja clans far away. The floor was starting to fill up, and stagehands were getting the big central stage ready for our benefactors, the mysterious SOS Brigade.
"So," I muttered to Calc, the Star's sysadmin and legal counsel, "we ever figure out who these SOS guys are?"
Calc frowned. "Not exactly. They're Japanese, but they're not affiliated with the Otaking or any of the other major fractions." He took a sip of his Martian faux-Glenlivet and continued. "As far as I can tell, they only just out here a few months ago."
"Huh, and they're already calling a Convention?"
"Yeah, and they've got a pretty definite agenda too." I would've replied to this bit, but just as I was about to ask what the SOS agenda was, chief engineer KJ interrupted with more pressing business.
"Hey, isn't that Gristle McThornbody from Fox over there?" Gesturing in the general direction of the press booth, where a pack of mundane newsmuppets (as opposed to the fan newsmuppets, who tended to be, well, *actual* muppets. But I digress.) were busy jockeying for the best angle of the reception area to serve as background color. There in the thick of it, looking a bit green around the gills from all the gravity shifts between the hangar decks and the main living areas, was the blandly handsome face of the mundanes' finest Space Correspondent.
Excellent.
I handed my drink off to KJ. "Hold this, man. Be right back." I threaded my way through the crowds, getting closer and closer to the press area. As I drifted closer to the booth, I saw that McThornbody's camera light had just went on. Perfect. The booth was surrounded by gawkers, some waving into the cameras, others looking for the world like they wanted bags of popcorn to throw at the reporters. McThornbody was almost in reach, and I could hear him blathering into the camera about the Convention and the far-reaching implications.
Just as he got to the point in his script about "political backlash," I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "Oi! McThornbody!" I yelled cheerily as I proceeded to deck him with my free hand live on international TV. "That's for running out on the tab in St. Louis, you prick!"
Naturally, this caused a bit of a disturbance. Between the consternation of McThornbody's fellow reporters, the cheering of my fellow fans and McThornbody's bleating cries on the floor, the press booth suddenly got a *lot* livlier. I took advantage of the confusion to slip back into the crowd and back to my compatriots, who had apparently watched the whole thing unfold judging by the way they were nearly doubled over laughing.

Having settled accounts with the weasel from Fox, (which the overhead monitors were now showing on an endless loop) I turned to my crew and started making plans. "Okay kids, time to go mingle. We probably won't find out what we've been called in for tonight, so go have a good time and we'll meet back here once things start getting underway in earnest tomorrow." I noticed that I was already short a few; our resident married couple had already slipped off, either to one of the station's dance clubs or just back to their room. Meanwhile my tactical officer was diving into the crowd towards the Klingon contingent, bokuto out and ready for some friendly mayhem. "Assuming that you haven't already," I amended with a bit of a smirk.
KJ finished his beer in one gulp, tossed the empty into a handy recycler and turned towards the edge of the throng. "I'm gonna hit up the marketplace," he said. "Maybe see if I can't find some wilderness refueling gear for the lifesystem, or maybe get a Wii to replace the tactical computer while I'm at it."
"Good idea. Be sure to grab an icon for Ptichka while you're at it. You'll need the bribe if you're going to cut her open."
"Yeah, yeah..." KJ vanished into the crowd, heading for the market levels.
Calc looked thoughfully at the convention floor. "I think I'm going to hit up WARGH!" he didn't get the chance to finish his thought, as a gaggle of Senshi cosplayers emerged from the crowd, pounced on him and started dragging him away. Elena boggled. I just sighed and took a sip of my drink.
"Should've seen that one coming," I mused. I don't know what it is about him, but for some reason Calc always attracts this kind of female attention whenever we're in a highly populated area. As funny as these sorts of ambushes usually are, I still had a duty to protect my crew, so I whistled after the retreating Senshi. "OI! You lot, with the lawyer! Hold it a second!"
The cosplayers stopped and gave me a curious look. "Yeah?" demanded the tallest one.
"That guy's part of my crew! I want him returned intact, same species and same gender he was when you found him, y'hear?"
"What about hair color?"
I gave this due consideration. "That's negotiable!"
The cosplayers cheered. Calc might've groaned; I didn't hear it, but he certainly *looked* like he had. The Senshi dragged him away into a side alcove. I dedicated the rest of my drink to his health.
Elena eyed the crowd nervously. "Er, so what should I do?"
"Go mingle. Say hi, talk to 'em about stuff. You're a BNF, regale 'em with your heroic exploits around Saturn, and listen to them regale you with their heroic exploits. You know, the usual. Just keep your head and don't eat, drink, smoke or fuck anything that's more'n five percent handwavium by weight and you'll be fine."
"But I don't *know* any of these people!"
"Bah, you probably know half of them through the Net, you just don't know what they look like." I gave her a bit of a push into the crowd. "Now g'wan! Scoot! It's a party, so have fun!" She gave me a bit of a dirty look as a group of stormtroopers swept her down towards the bar.
I swear, it's like being a den mother sometimes.
I finished my drink and started pushing my way through the crowd towards the more private bar near the SSX pavillion. Unless I missed my guess, that's where the SMOFs would be gathering, probably to hear the initial proposal from SOS.
That was about the point when all hell broke loose near the entrance.

---
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!"

12-20-2006, 07:56 PM

As yet another satisfied customer paid me, I kept hearing the amused chuckles coming from all over the Spaceport. I glowered at the various onlookers and marched back to the Schrottplatz. As I did though, I couldnt help glancing at my ship, and I had to admit that I understood their amusement, it was a sorry excuse for a ship, no matter how much Handwavium you coated it with.
The worst is that I never really had a choice about it. One day, a group of my drones had gotten tired of me telling them that we didnt have any room to install every single device they wanted to build. So they flew away with my car one evening while I was not looking, and when I saw it next, the front half proudly jutted out the front of a formerly shipwrecked freighter.
At least, I had room for a real bed now. I was also one of the few Fen that could be hired for large deliveries and the most competitive when it came to serious space construction jobs. It was also great for attracting passenger jobs, provided they could live with the fact that they would be travelling onboard a rusty freighter/car hybrid named scrap yard in German.
I had barely walked through the hatch that one of AllCaps descendents spoke to me from the other end of the hold, easily audible over the noise of 5 drones welding what looked like a crane on the inside of the hull, Boss, we just received an invitation to a convention, though well have to leave right now to make it in time.
I mentally calculated the supplies we would need for the travel and a quick check revealed that yes, we had everything we needed to leave immediately. I nodded and replied, Ok, tell everyone to be ready for takeoff as soon as possible.
As I walked to the cockpit, I heard the AllCapist yelling the wake up call to the drone in charge of engineering, Yo Gramps, wake up the engine. Boss says were leaving now.
The call echoed across most of the ship, and the various other AllCapist drones quickly became audible all over the ship, waking everyone up with their rather loud wake up calls. I looked around the cockpit, checking that everything was in order, and then steered towards my next destination.

Rieverre · 12-20-2006, 08:20 PM

Things started spiralling into their current way, shape, and form back when the movers and shakers Earthside finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to try and stick arriving and departing Fen with extra tax.
HUD, already having to handle some work they/we were getting by subcontracting it to a fair number of Fen, and being closest to having an actual structure, took a fair bit of their flak.
In fact, Hermes finally did sign some random kipple worth of official looking paperwork to get the vultures off our backs, whereupon most of us took nom-de-guerre and legally divorced our former identities.
Then we gave the administrative collective the equivalent of the finger by proceeding to ignore the US and most of Europe, and moving the brunt of our Earthside storage space and business deals to Australia.
Half a year later business was back to normal, and the quality of beer we were delivering was a lot better than it had been before, but bulk orders were coming in more and more often.
It was the next big project. An upscaling, upgrading, or whatever you'd like to call it.
Plus, it was a way to get out of having to deal with the paperwork generated by the friendly, but still formalized relationship Hermes now had with the Aussie authorities.
So, myself and a few others went scouting ... or so the official story goes. Personally, I spent a week catching the highs and lows of Down Under - something I'd been meaning to do before, but had never really found the time to properly indulge in.
Inspiration struck when I'd hit North Williamstown.
Unfortunately, friendly as we were with the admins, we weren't _that_ friendly.
Fortunately, we did find out that while the Victorian Railways H220 displayed there was the only H class locomotive of its type that had entered service, it had been intially intended to be joined by two more of its type. Sadly, construction was never completed, and the parts had likely been scrapped.
It took us the better part of three months to raid assorted scrapyards, make inquiries, and put together a Handwaviumfab unit big enough to deal with assembly and eventual manufacture of parts missing. Fortunately, there was more than enough documentation to peruse, and we didn't actually have to put in a working engine ...
... and I had to stop Trigon from torching Botany Bay, but that's another story altogether. Let's just say that he gets bored easily.
In the end, re-construction was completed in record time - though maybe not so record, considering that four Fen were actually sweating bullets to make it happen. Me? I was, err, supervising! Yes, that's it.
What?
Yeah, well, their kung-fu was better than mine for dealing with the matter at hand. Personally, if it doesn't deal with force-fields or things going boom in a spectacular manner, I'm usually tempted to hand it off to someone else.
Anyway, we gave the whole thing its handwavium paintjob, hooked as much free Solid State 'wavetech as we had on hand into where the boiler would have been, had we actually managed to get a full one, called it a night, and proceeded over to Sydney to raid its Chinatown.
After a night that would eventually start the 'five Fen walk into a bar' joke franchise - and a morning on which I woke up to much screaming, because it was also the night of the infamous guacamole dip caper - and getting our collective shit together in the morning (one gender-change, one scalification, one human-fly/spiderman act, one split, and, well, me) we made our way back to the dockside warehouse space we'd rented.
The six of us - yeah, six. Turns out the guy who'd brought the guacamole got himself an Evil Twin. Or should that be Good Twin? Meh - promptly proceeded to jawdrop and stare.
No, not just because of the fact that you'd have to be insane to wear a long, black, and obviously winterweight coat in Australia in the summer.
Well, whatever debate there eventually would have been as to who'd crew the newest member of the HUD flotilla was pretty much eliminated there and then. We'd have called her Galaxy Express 999 regardless, but this sort of made it more ... right. If you get what I'm saying.
And even now, none of us had even the foggiest as to where she'd come from. Nor did we have any desire to ask. Hell, given that she's got some sort of symbiotic relationship with the 999 it's as likely as anything that all that handwavium in one place did a number on Reality. More of one than usual, at least.
"Katz."
Aaaand ... oh, hell.
Yeah, alright, the hug was nice. The frown that came after was worrying.
"Alright, what did I do this time?"
"Other than never calling?"
"Yes, other than never calling. You know I'm not a big fan of vidcom."
"Other than rarely even writing?"
"Err ..." I could have sworn I'd been keeping up with exchanges in that regard.
"People have been worried, you know? I actually needed to put together a storage buffer for your correspondence, because it keeps bouncing here for some reason."
I drew breath to defend myself before what she said registered. Wonderful. Well, that explains some things ...
"Damnit, Trigon!"
Yeah. I may be an ass, but I'd like to think I'm not that big an ass.
I promptly proceeded to beg, grovel, and explain myself.
"Well, you must be hungry," she finally said, cheerfully pretending to ignore the display. "Come, come. The kitchens just finished fixing a little something to tide us over until Phobos."
Whereupon Maetel proceeded to hook her arm around mine and direct me towards the dining cart.

Generally, I don't really trust the goop of the spaceways. Or maybe I'm not willing to trust in using _just_ the goop. I started out with Solid State 'wavetech. Hell, I airlifted and spacefared over those first few months with Solid State 'wavetech.
Call me sentimental.
Oh?
Yeah, well, you can work around those limitations ... or at least, I can. It's pretty much a given that, if you're working with any sort of 'wavium, you'll get some sort of package that lets you understand the stuff on a basic level. Running theory is harmonic resonance of the 'wavium with the user's aura or somesuch junk.
In other words, it's sort of a 'gadgeteer upgrade' I guess.
Or should that be 'mad scientist'? In some cases, definitely. Just look at the Prof. Make sure to wear sunglasses, though. That last detonation was damn bright.
I guess I got 'idiot savant', because ... okay, here's a secret. I don't really have clue on how these things work, beyond broad hints. Just about whether or not something will or won't. No, nothing like inspiration.
I've _felt_ inspiration. This isn't it.
This is ... well, this is me being the monkey sat in front of the typewriter and coming up with Macbeth after punching random keys.
For some reason, I do my best work with shields and other energy fields. It's how Uncertainty got to orbit and back those first few times without any goop coating to keep the air in - navigational deflectors and a structural integrity field that doubled as containment - as well as the basis for her energy sails, among other things.
So I wasn't really making myself too comfortable - I knew the cars were isolated and had been 'wavium coated as the basis of the process. I also knew Maetel was about as likely to take risks about her passengers and cargo as it was for the Sun to fizzle out tomorrow, so that was some measure of comfort right right there.
Passengers? Yeah, well, tourists are a universal constant. Almost as much of one as Jenova's ... err ... Jehovah's Witnesses, and only slightly less annoying.
And if you've got those, you've got a fair number who want to travel in comfort and style. Two things that the Galaxy Express has in spades, plus possibly the only automated 'wavium kitchen that produces not only edible but actually tasty results.
This is doubly true when there's been a Convention notice - there are always those who'd like to see how the Fen party. At the very least, reporters will show up. We've got a loosely defined deal with Space(formerly Sky) News Australia that makes us a pretty penny in petty cash whenever there's something up in the lands of Above and Beyond.
We came up on Phobos in a matter of hours, without many delays - another reason to travel with the supplies would be that it gets you to the head of the queue without much fuss. The admins know well enough how rowdy and ... inventive ... a gathering of Fen low on snackage can get - and got directed into the main hangar space where the cargo was unloaded and the passegers were welcomed by the first site of most likely the biggest damn cave they'd ever seen.
It didn't really have artificial gravity - too little use for it, really - so we had to deal with a few cases of space-sickness before we got going.
"Now, a few basic rules for those who've not been in open Fenspace before," Maetel was lecturing as we floated over to the lifts. "Staring is considered either rude of complimentory on a case-by-case basis, but nobody will likely object to pictures. If you don't know what it is, you really shouldn't touch it ..."
"Or eat it, or drink it, or poke it with a stick," I chimed in. We were hit with a solid Gee of acceleration which promptly turned into a comfortable point eight worth of artificial gravity when the turbolift equivalent brought us to the promenade deck.
"Yes, or all that. Also, 'do not enter' signs are usually there for a reason."
"Frankly, considering the odds, you'll be considered lucky to just find hard vacuum on the other side."
"Quite. Peanut gallery, please be quiet," she said, amusedly, as we vacated the lift. I kepy my mouth shut and my eyes scanning around for things and people of interest while she finished, and directed the gaggle of mundies to an information booth. The few Fen who'd caught a ride with the Express for one reason or another quickly ignored that and mingled.
We finally had a bit of space to ourselves, and must have made for a bit of a peculiar image - Maetel was wearing a white version of her usual, looking all aloof and composed, while I was playing contrast by being decked out in black casual and being my usual scruffy self.
"So, do you have any plans?" I asked as we made our way through the still sparse Fendom. More would be arriving by the minute, but the promenade was large enough that it wouldn't become cramped for a while yet.
And _somebody_ had supplied the overhead screen-ceiling - which usually furthered the illusion of open space for Phobos' inhabitants by virtue of projecting Mars' sky based on tranmissions being relayed from one of the surface outposts - with imagery from Saturn.
Nifty.
"Oh? No, none, really. The Galaxy Express and I are here for the duration and already booked for the return trip, or so I suppose," she replied, before we were interrupted.

Well, now I remember another reason as to why the Express is 'parked' in the main bay pending unloading.
Fendom, despite occasional claims to the contrary, is prone to just as many foibles as the mundies. One of the most annoying being what I term the Pirhana Effect. Also trope-d as Give-Them-A-Finger-And-They'll-Take-Your-Arm-Off. Or at least it should be.
Employing a mixture of three skills essential to every Con-goer (*dum dum dum dum dum dum*) - the Nothing-Wrong-Here-Smile, the Elbows-Of-Poking, and the Art-Of-Crowd-Step - we finally managed to make our way out of the throng of rabid Matsumotoites.
Usually, I don't mind these guys. Hell, Scales was one of them back when we were working on the Express, and probably still is.
Come to think of it, that was easier than I thought it'd be.
Oh.
"We did not just see Mal decking ..." I started, the reconsidered my statement. The 'sky' proceeded to repeat the recording of the incident in a short loop.
Yup.
There was Mal.
There was Mal's fist.
"No, I think we did," Maetel corrected with a laugh, then stood on her toes and gave the conquering hero a small wave over the top of the crowd.
"Well, here's to familiar faces, then."
Hmm, and there was the Village of Hidden Asteroid, in the process of setting up their stand as close to the middle of the promenade's far end as they'd managed to wrangle from Phobos' representatives. I meant that literally. Far as I could tell, they were using that antigrav kitbash I sent their way last time I was visiting - because, hey, cute asian girls in skimpy ani-ninja wear? Yeah.
Though how the hell they expected people to be able to get up there, I had no idea. Should occur to them in a few minutes, methinks.
It was still a bit until ... well, whatever that stage was there for would be happening, or so the so called 'schedule' we'd snagged on the lift said, and I'd never been much for mingling.
"Schrdinger!"
Damn. So much for random timesinks. Apparently, Phobos admins still remembered me.
"This'll take a while, I think. You might want to get out of the blast radius," I shrugged at Maetel's inquisitive look, before she caught my meaning and trailed off as to not be caught in whatever it was that was heading this way.
Yup, that looked like what passed for the locals' uniform. Or close enough to it, at least.
I proceeded to spend the next half-hour sprouting assurances that, yes, the Uncertainty was here but Trigon was properly secured and entertained and, no, he wouldn't try reenacting the tunnel run from Return of the Jedi in Phobos' interior.
Again.
Gah.

When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

**M Fnord** · 12-21-2006, 12:53 AM

Few minor edits & additions, and that's my Convention stuff from the thread.

The first rule of any convention, big or little, is if you want to know what's going on, stake out the bar first thing. That's where the real powers behind the Nation lurk: the pros, the SMOFs and the random drunks.
Okay, not so much the random drunks.
Anyway, the best place to get accurate information on what's happening behind the scenes at a Convention is to go to the bar, buy a beer or two and eavesdrop. Most of the conversation will be about the usual irrelevant shit, maybe the occasional dirty joke you haven't heard before, but you'll also get plenty of information about the current SMOF pecking order and other tidbits that help form a big picture about the current state of fen politics.
So that's what I did. I got into Callahan's, grabbed a stake at the bar and listened to the SMOFs talk. Since the Convention wasn't scheduled, there was more political talk than usual.
The first thing I noticed was that the SMOFs seemed to be just as much in the dark about the Convention as the rest of us. That was a bit troubling. I wasn't expecting to hear the entire nefarious plot from beginning to end over a pitcher of margaritas, but still. Apparently the SOS Brigade were keeping a low profile until tomorrow's morning session. Unusual,, that. Most Convention organizers at least make a token appearance on the first day, welcome folks, thank them for coming, the usual.
The other thing I kept hearing were dark mutterings about the raiders on the edge of the system. That got my attention. We hadn't seen any raiders on our Saturn expedition - the area's not developed, and besides the Star is more than capable of defending herself - but we'd heard the rumors about ice miners and rockrats vanishing from the Main and Kuiper belts.
I was leaning in, trying to get a better read on the conversation, when somebody joggled my elbow. Not an unusual thing in a crowded bar, but this had the feel of somebody deliberately trying to get my attention. I turned and took a look at the responsible party.
My first impression was "boy, this guy's is is the wrong place." He was young, late teens or early twenties maybe, Japanese, in a suit and tie that was *completely* out of place with his surroundings and he was looking at me with this sort of little half-smile, like he knew something I didn't.
(captain fnord?) he asked over the din.
(i could be,) I replied. (who's asking?)
(my name is koizumi itsuki, with the sos-dan. may i speak with you privately, please?)
Well now! Here I was trying to get some intel on the mysterious SOS, and what should happen but one of the members comes up and wants to talk to me. Truly, the gods of fortune smile upon my honky ass. I held up a palm, finished off my beer and said (just a second.) I spun back to face the bartender. (mike!)
Mike glanced at me. I jerked my head towards the back rooms. He nodded, gave me a thumbs-up and went back to tending bar. I stood up and motioned Koizumi towards the back. (step into my office.)
We wound our way through the crowded bar until we reached the back rooms. I opened the door, motioned Koizumi through, then entered. Once inside with the door closed, the overwhelming noise cut off like I'd thrown a switch.
"Much better," I said. "Now, Mr. Koizumi, you and your 'SOS-dan.' You're quite the talk of the Convention, you know. Calling one under the emergency clause, then staying quiet about your motives. To say nothing about the initial notice."
"Ah, yes. That." Koizumi had the good grace to look embarrased. "Miss Suzumiya, our leader, wrote that and had it translated herself. Her written English isn't the best and she refused to let others proof it. She can be... willful." He seemed to be putting some emphasis on the last word.
"No foolin'. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"I was sent here to request your assistance."
"Uh huh. My assistance in?"
"We - that is, the SOS-dan - would like you and your crew to support Miss Suzumiya's initiative tomorrow. More to the point, we would like you to support the initiative even if it fails to win the vote."
I blinked. That was not quite what I had expected. "Why us?"
Koizumi gave me that damnable half-smile. "Not only you, Captain. My associates are contacting other independent fen as well. In your case, you and your crew are famous, Captain," he said. "You have a quite large following, even if you don't care to notice it yourself. Your ship, the... exploits involved in acquiring it, your adventures since... well." He shrugged. "Also, you, your crew and your ship have certain skills that may be necessary."
I shook my head. "Okay, wait one minute kid. Before you go any further, would you mind telling me what your boss's proposal *is* first?"
So he told me. The story leading into it was elliptical in the telling but pretty straightforward in the gist. Apparently the SOS-dan had lucked into some sort of intelligence about the raiders; bases, numbers, goals, something like that. Instead of giving the intel to Starfleet or SSX, this Suzumiya woman had decided to instead use it as leverage to form a sort of multifractional taskforce to deal with the raiders. He finished his summation with that classic line beloved by politicans everywhere, "May the SOS-dan count on your support?"
I thought about it. "I don't rightly know," I said. "What you're proposing is... big. Really big. Without a clearer danger I doubt your boss will be able to push this through the full vote. We've all got enough rocks in our ruck without signing on to this crusade or whatever."
Koizumi nodded. "In truth, I don't expect it to pass," he said. "However, Miss Suzumiya was insistent, and I've found it wise to just, ah, let her do her thing."
"As for me and my crew," I continued, "I'm not sure. I admit that I'm tempted. If it was just me and Ptichka..." I shook my head. "But it isn't. I won't speak for my crew in this, they'll have to decide for themselves."
"Of course," Koizumi replied. "Perfectly understandable. When might we be able to hear a decision from your crew?"
I gave it a little thought. "Your boss is going to make her proposal tomorrow morning, right? You or somebody else from SOS can swing by and hear our decision an hour or so before the opening session. We're making base camp on the 33rd floor of Hab Block D."
Koizuma bowed. "I shall do so. Thank you, Captain, for allowing me to state my case."
I didn't return the bow, but gave him a coridal nod. "Best of luck in your future endeavours, Mr. Koizumi."
Koizumi left the room, letting a brief blast of noise and half a verse of "Banned From Argo" ("we're the Federation's finest, and our record is our pride") into the room. I leaned up against the wall, trying to sort through everything Koizumi said, everything he *didn't* say, and trying to make sense of it.
One: Based on what I'd heard earlier in the bar, along with other rumors, the raiders were getting bolder and more organized with each attack. Even if they're just hitting rockrats and the ice stations, sooner or later - presume sooner - they'd be a threat to the big Inner System stations: Phobos, Deimos, Luna, Stellvia, the Island, ISS.
Two: Like it or not, the belt miners *are* our primary economic link to Earth. Without the metals trade, our economy crashes.
Three: SSX usually keeps the Main Belt free of hostiles. If they're having trouble, losing ships, then it's probably something too big for any one fraction to handle on their own.
Primary hypothesis: Suzumiya is right, and some sort of multifractional force is needed.
However... Four: SSX Base hasn't admitted to losing ships in combat yet. But the SOS Brigade knew. The Brigade has been off-Earth less than a year, maybe less than six months. How did they know? Pirates don't blab no matter how drunk you get them, and certainly not about something like *that*.
Five: Koizumi said they were seeking out specific free agents. Not asking the fraction leaders for assistance.
Secondary hypothesis: This is a setup. Either SOS is trying to lead fandom into an ambush, or they're the catspaw for another entity trying to do same.
Question: Cui bono? Fandom's made a lot of enemies since the wave hit, a lot of them have the money and talent necessary to play this kind of game. Whoever's behind the raiders (or SOS) could be... almost any of them.
Tertiary hypothesis: One way or another, the answers lie with the SOS-dan. The logical option would be to play along until the truth is out.
I sighed. Just enough information to make me curious, but not enough to come to a proper conclusion. Koizumi was either that good, or I was that gullible. Probably a combination of both.
In any case, I wasn't my own master anyway. My crew needed to know what was up. I pulled out my cell and dialed the ship. "Ptichka, get the others, have them meet me back at the Star. Something's come up."

So I slip out of Callahan's and I'm on my way back to the Star to brief the crew on the SOS-dan's intentions when I'm jumped by a fan.
Jumped by a fan at a Convention. Yeah, I know. Big shocker there. But this fan was... unique.
I heard somebody call out my name behind me. The voice was high, young, female with a bit of something synthetic behind it. I turn around, and I'm expecting something like a 15 year old Warsie in stormtrooper gear who wants me to sign something. I tell you true, I was not expecting what happened next.
"OMG Captain Mal! I'm like, *so* your biggest fan! I read all the stuff about you in National Geographic and I've seen all your documentaries and it's like, wow!" My interlocutor was a spindly, flat-topped robot, rolling along on six small wheels. A mast toppped with twin cameras at right about my eye level looked at me as the 'bot unfolded her manipulator arm in friendly greeting. "I'm Opportunity! Nice to meet you!"
Never let it be said that Captain S. Malaclypse Fnord of the good ship Explain Star is an ungracious boor. I took Opportunity's manipulator and gave it a friendly, um, handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Opportunity," I declared. "As it happens," I added in a bit more confidential tone, "I'm something of a fan of yours as well."
Opportunity's cameras swiveled. "Really?" she asked. "Cool! We need to, like, do a book or something together! I can write and you can take pictures!"
I smiled. "You know, that's actually not a bad idea," I said. "Do you have a phone number or something handy? I'm sorry to be in a rush, but I've got to meet with the crew and I'm kind of pressed for time..."
"Oh, no problem! No problem! Just call the Terraforming Office and ask for me, I'm always on-call. It was nice meeting you!" I signed her just-bought copy of 'Lonely System: Ceres' and she rolled away happily, drawing stares from even the more jaded fen.
I turned back to the path towards the hangar deck when lo and behold I found two of my crew standing there with bemused expressions on their faces. I guess they came in near the end of that exchange. "So what was that about?" asked Zib. Kat didn't say anything, she just gave me that look, the one where she didn't know what the hell was going on, but was impressed all the same.
"Oh, just another one of our adoring fans," I said breezily, grabbing them both by the arm and pulling them into the crowd. "I'll tell ya though, this place gets weirder every fucking year."---
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!"

12-21-2006, 01:17 AM

Havane't really given this an editing pass yet, but I updated a few details and combined some posts. To be edited later.
----------------------------------
"MWAHAHAHA! Those FOOLS shall Tremble before the Power of SCIENCE!" Hollers my master at an unnecessary volume. He has been awake for over six weeks straight now, the insanity of choice this time seems to be usual monomania. I have no idea what he is working on this time, and frankly I don't care, as long as he is this focused on his work he won't notice me. As I sneak closer I do check that it doesn't look as if it's about to explode though, having learned that lesson from painful experience. Raising my combat knife I'm about to plunge it in his back when I hear the door open. Swiftly hiding the knife I turn around to see Miyu entering the room, carrying the bowl my master calls a coffee cup.
"Professor, your coffee is ready." Says Miyu in her precise, clipped voice.
"Hmm?"My master seemed to finally realize that there where other people in the room with him and takes his head out of the mess of wires he was working with. Unfortunately he doesn't release the wires leading into the engine and we all go flying to the rear bulkhead as the ship shudders and heaves under us. Of course I am the one getting coated with the scalding hot beverage, this is going to take forever to get out of my clothes. I glare at Miyu as she lands in a prefect crouch, while I'm on my ass and have the damn cup on my head.
"Whoops sorry about that., just a second." Says my master as he stands up end reaches for the open panel on the engine, fidels with something, and gravity promptly starts pointing in the right direction again, though this time I'm forewarned and land on my feet. My master though he should have known what was coming lies in an unconscious heap at my feet.
Sighing I lift him up and say "I'll bring him to the infirmary."
"No need I'll do it," says Miyu, helpful as ever, as she grabs his other side and starts to carry him too. "Why don't you go clean yourself up."
^_^
I barely managed to keep from glaring at Ryoko as we helped the Professor to the infirmary, wishing that blue haired goody two shoos would go away. First she wastes all my carefully poisoned coffee and now she refuses to leave us alone. Just one moment and I could punish him for taking me away from Alysa but she sticks with me until we reach the infirmary maintaining her cheerful demeanor the entire time, even though she is clearly worried about the Professor. Really it's just too hard to stay mad at the pseudo-girl, especially when she's wearing that oversized mug as a hat.
When we reached the infirmary Catty is already there, in a nurse outfit that I am sure didn't come with the ship. "I was expecting to see him in here when the gravity went crazy, what happened?"
"He was tinkering with the engines ranting about science as usual after the one week mark." Answerers Ryoko, "Well I have to take a shower and get this stuff of my clothes before it dries."
I hang around for a bit helping Catty check the Professor, though I already know she will be next to him while he is unconscious. She never leaves him alone when he sleeps either, my chance to assassinate him is gone until he wakes up again.
^_^
"Ouch, what blew up this time?" I asked as I came to with a pounding headache.
"Nothing, the artificial gravity went a little wonky though. Do you remember what you where working on?" Asks the sweet voice of Catty and I turn to look at her. Pink hair frames her delicate face with large golden eyes which sparkle with humor. Not for the first time I feel a sense of awe at what handwavium is able to accomplish, to bring to life a perfect creature such as this or the two others crewing this ship. Oh sure their basic frame was hand crafted by experts, built by a Japanese company specializing in life size dolls. The dolls had been just that, dolls, lifeless and uninteresting, but after I carefully molded handwavium into muscles and tucked a few select pieces of machinery here and there through their bodies they came alive. The first to be successfully animated with anything approaching human like intelligence. I was already been a mad scientist then, my intelligence enhanced to ludicrous levels by the handwavium, though back then I hadn't understood the price I would pay for enhancing myself like I had. I gave a mental snort, the insanity wasn't that bad, even if it had gotten him kicked off earth with a warning from NATO that if he ever tried to so much as re-enter the atmosphere he would be shot down. It also had gotten him the former royal yacht of Denmark, along with an unofficial thanks. Come to think of it that thanks what probably the only reason he hadn't been shot, just exiled. Focusing my drifting mind back to the question I was asked I tried to recall what I had been doing, I got a vague jumble of equations and four dimensional thrust vectors, and a couple of contradictory theories about how handwavium would react under certain conditions. I think all the theories where right though, which only stands to reason, I'm the greatest mad scientist in the universe! Shaking of my delusions of grandeur I answer the question.
"I was working on a subspace drive I think. The details are a little fuzzy, how long was I out? and for that matter how long was I working?"
"You where unconscious for two days, and before that working almost six weeks." She awn sered while holding out a very welcome cup of coffee.
"Thank you," I say as I accept the coffee. "Three week eh? Ouch, no wonder my head feels like it should explode if only to put me out of my misery. Anything I should take care of right away?" Ah caffeine, pure bliss.
"Your sister has a few of the usual questions on handwavium theory, but those could wait for a day or two. You have also been invited to speak at a Convention at Phobos, but we are to far out to reach it in time."
"When is the convention?"
"In three days, but we are still in orbit around Jupiter. We didn't want to try using the engines until you checked them out."
"Well them time to see if what I was working on actually works. I think I finished it. I'd better check it though, I wouldn't want to get stranded in subspace."
"Oh I can think of plenty of ways to keep us entertained should that happen." Catty says with a smirk as she runs her hands along her side in a very suggestive manner. It is then that I notice for the first time what she's wearing and I can feel the blood rushing to my face and ... other areas.
"Gah, well I better go check up on the engines." I stammer out as I race out of the infirmary, garbing a lab coat as I do so. Lucky someone had dressed me in my pajamas, though considering I was the only male on board I didn't want to think of who had done it. Catty's amused laughter echoes down the hallway after me. I relax a bit, she was only teasing, and even if she wasn't it's hardly the sort of thing I should be running away from.
~_~
Guzzling the cup of coffee next to me I set about answering the emails that Ryoko had set aside until after I got some rest. Mostly it where the usual questions about how handwavium worked, and requests for experiments beyond the Limit. I put the later aside, we would have to go back beyond the Limit after the convention, I wanted to visit Junior anyway. At least with the new engine it wouldn't take more then a month to get out there. Currently the Sol Bianca was cruising at a 0.01 c, almost five times faster than she has ever moved before inside the Limit. Now if only using the engine didn't cause radioactive spiders to appear. Oh well at least it didn't have any quirks when it wasn't being used. Sending off the answers along with a request for some materials to be delivered to Phobos while I was there anyway. I'm lucky my sister got me this freelance job at Northrop Grumman Corporation, this way I can get supplies for my research easily and only need to spend a few hours a month answering some simple questions about handwavium. Some interesting ideas regarding what would happen when handwavium and plutonium where combined in certain ways had been going around on the mailing lists, and it definitely merited further experimentation.
Kicking a spider that tries to bite me aside I go and check that the navigational system isn't too drunk and that we are still on course. I will need to stock up on more Jack Daniels, the navigation system seems more reliable with it.
~_~
I like Phobos, it is one of the few places where the Sol Bianca can dock, and with their traffic control I don't need to deal with the whining of the sensors about their Pokemon episodes being interrupted. I'll need to ask the Professor if he can't upgrade them to something less annoying. With a soft clunk the Sol Bianca settled down in it's docking slip. 12 hours before the convention officially starts and already this place is crawling with fen, which is understandable considering how long it takes to get around. Well I'd better get ready to escort the Professor. Maybe we can go for a romantic walk along the promenade and I can convince him to buy me a new katana. Then we can go to some nice secluded spot where I can finally kill him in peace without Ryoko or Catty interrupting. Who am I kidding, it'll be way too crowded with the upcoming convention, a katana would be nice though.
"Hey Miyu are you alright? You look a little preoccupied." Asks Ryoko, interrupting my pleasant daydream. Really how can someone be so cheerful all the time?
"Just thinking about stuff. I ordered a few extra gallons of bleach, I know spider goo is hard to get out of that shirt."
"Thank you, I hadn't thought of that. Any preferences for dinner?"
"Not really, whatever you feel like making is fine. Well I better get ready to help the Professor, we don't want the power of science unleased on another poor lynching mob. Is there anything I should pick up while I'm in the shopping district anyway?"
"No, we are good until the next batch of supplies arrive. See you tonight." She says as she waves me off with a cheerful little wave. She is so nice, if I didn't know better I would say it's impossible to be so cheerful all the time.
^_^
Sigh, another angry mob, this is the third one today. At least fen angry mobs had respect for tradition and so there where the pitchforks and torches, though where they had gotten them from in fenspace I don't want to know.
"All right you primitive screwheads, listen up! See this? This..." I say as I raise my left hand and shift into artillery mode. "... is my boomstick!" I always wanted to say that. Making sure to turn my smile properly psychotic I level my gun arm with them. "Now scram."
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."

Black Aeronaut · 12-21-2006, 01:26 AM

The 1986 Volkswagon Jetta was a decent little car. Unlike certain other year-models of the make, this particular one was known for being utterly reliable even when horribly beaten. It was a good little car.
What it had not been meant to do was have some Handwavium shoved into the gas tank and used as an inter-system vehicle. That's not what he had actually done, but when people ask him about how he got the Jetta to do that he loved the looks he gets from everyone when he tells them that.
Benjamin felt, that aside, that the Jetta was doing pretty magnificently well. And so was he. Using Gina, he'd become a pretty adept courier, swiftly shuttling small cargo loads, paperwork, and the occasional passenger or two through the system. That and he was one of the first and best Astroid Racers among Fenkind. The scenery changed and he met interesting people along the way. And at the end of the day he'd return to his homey little niche board the first orbital habitat over Earth.
At this time, Ben was sleeping. He'd been up late the other night on IRC once again. Doing so wasn't such a big deal. Gina handled most of the boring stuff without complaint. She'd usually entertain herself in the process by harrasing some alt. group on usenet anyways. Not that Ben cared - he never could get into Usenet.
Gina was more than just the Jetta itself. She was also a computer in the trunk. Ben had gotten fed up with the machine's sub-par performance one day and, for shits and giggles, pulled the old AMD Duron processor and RAM DIMM's out and stuck some Handwavium in their place and a few other key areas like the hard drive and graphics card, etcetera. An AI did not surface immediately, but when he installed the computer into the Handwaviumized Jetta, Gina manifested.
While Benjamin slept, Gina had dedicated a process thread or two to staying on course while the rest she used to have fun tormenting the Trolls and EMO's on Usenet, Myspace, LiveJournal, and a few others. She also kept one on momnitoring Ben's e-mail accounts as he'd asked her to whenever she could.
Therefore, she was quick to notice the odd email that came in on from the Nation of the Fen mailing list. Briefly, she checked the message. Had she been human, she would have sighed and shaken her head. Never send a bot to do an AI's job. That aside, it looked like it was worth Ben's attention, and he'd slept long enough anyways...
***
"Yo, BJ! Wake up. You got e-mail from the Nation's all call."
"Guh?" I replied as I sat up in the reclined driver's seat and began to rub the bluriness out of my eyes. "E-mail? Put it up on the driver's side monitor." So saying, I pulled down one of the LCD displays I had mounted in place of the visors. It was a small miracle that I was able to get matching ones made to be installed inside cars like this, so it didn't look like a kludge job at all.
I sighed after reading the message. "Someone needs to shoot their secretary," I said as I reached for the touch-sensitive screen, hit the reply button with my left hand.
Normally, I'm right-handed, but my biomod ofrces me to use my left one for more delicate work. I thought that having Kazuma Torisuna's right hand would be useful, and it was, but not in applications like these. Metal fingertips scratch touchscreens and could punch through keyboard if I wasn't careful. With that in mind, I rapped out a quick aknowlegement on the split keyboard that was on either side of the steering wheel.
"Too bad they're doing this convention in a big space," said Gina. "I'd've loved to see the overcrowding issues we would have had back home."
"You would," I replied as I tapped the 'Send' button on the screen. "Don't forget who would actually have to live with that kind of insanity."
"Hah. You humans and your bioligical needs."
"You machines and your mechanical needs," I retorted.
"Hey!"
"Chill out. How far are we from Home?"
"We're about an hour out," she replied, plotting our position on a map of the Earth and Mars orbts, focusing on the point where The Island would be now. OUr position was indicated just inside the Mars orbit.
"Traffic?" I asked.
"Probably because of that e-mail. It's timestamp was for five hours ago. Welcome to rush hour."
"Peachy."

"Island ATC, this is the Bullet Boy Express, requesting permission for a one-hour layover. Purpose, to reprovision and hit the showers."
"Affirmative, Ben. Bring her in nice and easy, and none of that power-slide-landing shit. You still owe us for what happened last time."
"Gah. Yeah, no problem," I replied. "The check's in with this month's rent."
"Good. Island ATC out."
"You really got their nicker's in a bunch last time," said Gina once the connection had been cut, poping up on the drop-down screen above. She was a dead ringer for Asuka Langely Soryu from Neon Genesis Evangelion - something that was entirely accidental. Unfortunately, while she hates being refered to as Asuka by the common Fen, she was almost just like said character. At least she didn't have such a huge superiority complex. Right now, she sounded very much amused. I didn't entirely appreciate it, but this was Gina. I let it slide.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. Really, she was entitled. It's not often that I wipe out so spectaculary and she had been miffed about the body damage. The only reason she didn't try to kill me then was because she knew I cared about her looks as much as she did and went right to work on getting her fixed up. Anyhow, I'll rib her back later when the opportunity presented itself - she'll expect me to.
As promised, I landed in a safe and sane manner, the wheels of the well maintained looking (some may settle for rust buckets - I won't) black-and-gold Jetta barking softly as they hit the tarmac. As promised, I got showered, got some food stuffs and enough clothes for a week packed along with a fresh load of fuel, and then I was off for Phobos.
Earth-to-Mars jaunts were so commonplace that The Ilsand took up station in an orbit that would net itself the most trafic between the two worlds. Therefore, it was an ideal place for me to set-up shop. You'd be surprised how much money can be made ferrying packges, legal documents, and the occasional personage or two between the two planets.
Now, I wouldn't say that I was well endowed, but that's because my earnings are all going towards a... Special Project. Hush-hush. Been talking to folks at NASA for a while and that's all I'll say on the matter. Anyhow, at least I can live more confortably than I ever did on Earth and my Downtime spent at The Island is quite enjoyable.
That said, I like my line of work (especially the races), and even enjoyed the occasional jaunt for personal reasons. This time for the 'Con. I could hardly wait see what was going on this time. In the meantime, Gina and I were thouroghly enjoying ourselves as we ducked and weaved through the steady stream of traffic bound from Earth to Mars.
People knew me, if not personally, then by reputation. Some saluted me as I passed in whatever means posible; winking lights, snap rolls, signal flares... Others ignored me. A few whom I'd made enemies of tried to take pot-shots at me. Yahright, see ya!
It was a fun two-hour run, but like all good things, it had to come to an end.
"Attention Phobos Control, This is Bullet Boy Express, requesting parking space for sedan-class Fen-craft."
"Like, yo! Bullet Boy. Ya clear. Sendin' ya data now. See ya lataz and have fun at the con."
I blinked at that. "Gina, was that a person or an AI we were talking to?"
"It was an AI, I think," she replied. "It'd make sense that they'd get one to help out with this much traffic coming in. Opening docking data now."
The folks at Phobos were pretty well on the ball as far as Fen went. The data consisted of not only the basic TOS guidelines and procedures, but directions to your dock/parking-space and navigational markers for those fortunate enough to be using a HUD. I didn't have a HUD myself, but I did have the next best thing.
"Okay then, Gina, stick it on Drvier's Side monitor," I said as I pulled down the LCD display. It flickered and presented the forward veiw outside, along with the Nav point markers and tagged out ships. Funny thing about it is that Gina had used the interface from the old Decent: Freespace game. Not that I complained - it certainly came in handy and I really did like the effect it gave.
A few more irritated Fen later, I had parked the Jetta in it's assigned space and took care of my parking, lodging and Con fees. I was quick to notice that the Sol Bianca was in one of the larger docking slips and smiled. It'd be good to see the Professor again, sleep deprived or not. Though, in this setting, the former would be much prefered.

Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."

drakensis · 12-21-2006, 02:17 AM

The SDF-1 had aroused considerable attention I guess, because no sooner had I parked on Phobos than I heard talk about it... well, no. Talk about rival projects to upstage the upstarts.
"...submarines," explained a fen wearing a reasonable fascimile of a Star Force uniform. "Then we go down there and build air tanks inside the ship and fill them with hydrogen. The added bouyancy will lift the Yamato to the surface and we can get to work."
I frowned. "Interesting idea, but offhand, wasn't the Yamato broken in half when it sank? Do you really want to spend a month in the 'Danelaw just welding it back together?"
He looked like he might cry. "But, but it would be so cool!"
"That's true," I said. "Let me think... maybe you should use a more accessible ship? I think..." I pulled out what had started life as a Gameboy and now acted as a remote for the computers back in my car. "Aha. Scapa Flow!"
I got a blank look. "The German High Seas Fleet was scuttled there in 1919," I explained. "The ships there should be in much better condition than ships that were sunk in battle. Most of them were raised for scrap but there are three Konig-class battleships still down there. The only problem would be that they're not in international waters, so the salvage laws would be different. Do you know anyone in that part of the world?"
Half-an-hour later I had some details to forward to my sister back on the Earth and a percentage for negotiating a purchase price off the German or British governments (whichever was owner these days) for the ships. It's not like it would cost them anything to let the Fen's go collect some scrap metal that had been deemed too inaccessible to recover for most of a century.
Things like that can really mess up the relationship between the Fendom and the 'danelaw since neither side seems to really understand why the other does anything (with a few exceptions). After running afoul of several legal problems shortly after I fixed up a no-longer-roadworthy Vauxhall Cavalier with some handwavium, I'd finallly come to an agreement with my-sister-the-tax-accountant and started a career that seems to be someplace between bounty hunter and lawyer these days.
The Jaime Retief, as I call her, doesn't really look much different from the other vehicles parked inside one of Phobos' outer caves/parking-garages. The paintjob had gone from a dirty-blue to the sort of rainbow effect that you can get in oil when the light catches it right, and it moved and formed shapes at times. I'm told that when I'm inside it it moves faster, but I can barely see it at that point. The wheels don't spin any more, in fact they fold up into the undercarriage when I don't need them for landing gear. The fact is that the doors don't open either, so I generally enter or leave through driver's side window. And for some reason, the roof always looks like a Confederate Flag when I do that. At least the computer stopped whistling dixie everytime I had a new email.
"Hey, General Lee!" called one of the girls behind the Venus Terraforming Project. I could tell that she was involved in that by the seifuku - don't ask. Let's just say that despite the VTP being well behind it's Martian rival due to the much greater technical challenges, there was a great enthusiasm for helping the girls with anything that they wanted for it. I'd have been more enthusiastic if they didn't call me 'General Lee' all the time.
"Hey there," I answered her. "And how can I help my favorite Sailor Senshi today?"
"How about helping us in a little mission for love and justice?" she asked brightly and I felt my stomach sinking. That sort of request never boded well, not from femme-fens whose ships were saccharine enough to appear in Care-Bear cartoons.

The man stood in the middle of the cluster of seifuku-clad women didn't seem anything like as happy as most Fen woul be to be in that position. Occasional frictions aside, they're really very good company and not for just the obvious reasons. They're also in the position of being just a little picky about who they choose to hang around with (being better than eighty percent female in membership) so I got a couple of jealous looks as the young lady towing me by one arm led me into their circle.
"What's with Fox Mulder?" I asked, tilting my head towards the suited man. "Still looking for the truth?"
She giggled. "No, he's from the Dear."
"Dear?" I enquired, not recognising that as a name.
"It's an acronym," she said. "You know, D, E, A? Dear!"
"Ah, right," I said. And reminded myself yet again that while she might sound like an airhead, there was a very good chance that she was just putting it on to be cute. Terraforming Venus was proving to be orders of magnitude harder than Mars, but there was a reason that I'd been confident enough to arrange financial backing for them. (I sold lots of land on Venus for a few dollars a square mile. Thus far the project was well in the black despite having sold off an area only about as large as Texas).
"Mr. Scott?" she gushed brightly at the G-Man. "This is the General Lee. He's ever so good at solving problems for us and I'm sure he'll be able to help you."
Ohhhkay. What the heck was up here? Why would the DEA be interested in up here that they would need me for? There was probably a little drug trade up here, but I'd never gotten involved in it myself and it was a drop in the barrel compared to the issues that went on down under the 'Danelaw.
"General?" he asked, sounding more than a little dubious himself. It was hard to blame him. I'm not sure what he was expecting but someone wearing blue jeans and a 'Join Galactor' T-shirt under a battered biker jacket that had once been fire-engine red was almost certainly not it.
"My other car is an orange Dodge Charger," I explained. (This was technically correct - but I hadn't had time to fit it out yet, so it was parked somewhere secure until I could get a few parts and some more handwavium). "I go by Mr. Johnson around your part of the universe, Mr. Scott. But I have to wonder what brings a federal agent out here."
He nodded his understanding. "I wish I could say I was pleased to be here, Mr. Johnson. Under other circumstances I might be."
Then he leaned forwards and in a voice that I could barely hear over the sound of the Convention, said something I had hoped never to hear.D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Rieverre · 12-21-2006, 02:50 AM

You know, if there's anything a random mob is good for, it's a distraction. Especially when you're feeling as parched as I was after nearly half an hour's worth of talking.
I slipped away in the confusion, the admins' representative not really noticing because, hey, that was one really freakin' big mob. Farming implements included.
There's quite a few things that can rouse up that much animation in Fen, but not many make them do the 'storming the castle' routine. Off the top of my head, the only one I could think of to get that sort of response was the Professor.
Oh.
It _was_ him.
Trigon's going to bitch at me for locking commo.
Still, the authority figure's attention wasn't going to stay stuck to those guys indefinitely, and I'd promised to buy someone dinner when we got here. Not the day after, which would likely be the result if I didn't do a little disappearing magic.
Unfortunately, the only things I had on me wouldn't be of much use in this situation.
I needed crowd control. And not neccessarily in the traditional sense.
Which was when I spotted the droids and their merchandise, or rather, a particularly patterned set of round metallic cylinders that had roughly the dimensions of a can of soda. I proceeded to trot over, pressing my way through the influx of Fen who, of course, were heading for the disturbance.
I swear, bloody lemmings.
Shelling out a few credits, and noting that the flunkie had remembered I was supposed to be there to be chewed over but now wasn't, I stowed most of the 'cans' in my vest pockets.
Leaving me with one in particular.
Now, if I've got this right ...
Pop the pin, wind back, toss it so it arcs gracefully over the gathered Fen while shouting the one thing I knew would get the android's attention:
"EMP! Everybody cover!"
... then ducking down and slinking away when the Fen collective flinched and the Professor's boomstick carrying escort blew it out of the air.
There was the *pop* of decompressing air, and the Pantsu Grenade (tm - Happosai H Manufacturing) erupted over the crowd, scattering silky little nothings ...
I leave the reactions to your imagination, only saying that I doubted they'd be bothering with finding me with this on their hands.
Then I went to look for Maetel.

"But the costume's great! You look really really really like her! You should totally take part in the ..."
It happens every time, without fail. Somebody new gets involved in the cosplay section of a Con and tries to convince her to enter, thinking Maetel's in costume.
To my knowledge, she never has.
I gave a brief gesture from behind the fuku-ed bundle of bubbly enthusiasm that's pulled the short straw of asking her this time, and quirked an eyebrow in question.
Maetel shook her head.
Hmm. Alright. Nah.
I've had my share of distraction and misdirection for the hour, as tempting as the concept of raiding the back of the Warsies' stand and slotting Queen's 'Bicycle Race' into their PA is.
Stormtrooper armor may look imposing, and is even effective most of the time since all but a few have since 'gooped' theirs, but visibility through those helmets really sucks.
Besides, Trigon did that last year.
Well, luckily I subscribe to the waste not, want not way of thinking.
I walked up behind the Senshi - Prvt. 1st Class, judging from the pips on the edge of the rear ribbon. Such a nice rear ... ahem ... - and tapped on her shoulder in the middle of another sales pitch.
"Meep."
Or something in the direction. Alright, so to somebody around five foot five I can pretend to be imposing.
"Excuse me, miss. Are these yours?" I asked.
Whereupon I drew a pair that had drifted my way after the Pantsu Grenade had decompressed from inside my utility vest. Hmm. Black lace.
First she went "Eeeeek" then she went all red, only to finally snatch the panties from me and dash off into the crowd with a squee of "Pervert!"
I shrugged. Well, that had worked better than I'd expected it to.
"It wouldn't really feel right," she said as we walked down the promenade, away from the throng and in search of somepleace to get some decent food and drink. And no, for this one, Phobos' local Fenway didn't really count. "Though maybe next time, I should go as my sister?"
I paused and blinked. Then smiled. "Sure, if you think you'll have fun with it."

-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

12-21-2006, 02:53 AM

"Yo boss! We're almost there."
I looked up and almost laughed in relief. No matter how much one likes to laugh, reading bad jokes and horrible puns to an engine gets boring fast. This is especially true if you're coming from the edge of a system and all the way to Phobos, which, because the Schrottplatz is pretty much always dreadfully slow, takes a lot of time.
I gave the great big book of jokes and puns to Gramps and he continued reading from it, bursts of increased speed indicating when the engine was 'laughing'. I turned around and ran out and towards the cockpit praying that none of the drones had taken the initiative of hailing Phobos station yet. My prayers were for naught when I arrived and saw one of Penny's colleagues trying to sell someone "prime farming land on Pluto" over the communicator.
With a low growl, I pushed the drone back and whispered, "Stop that. I don't need to get another fine for clogging up the comm. channels."
I turned back to the over glorified handwavied radio we called a communicator, "Sorry about that." and cut the communication.
I then called Phobos station to notify them of our arrival and sat back for the wait.
***
Finally, after a few hours, we flew to our designated dock. We had barely landed that several drones ran out of the ship and started setting up kiosks. Of note were the Capitalistic Drones and their "Alcohol, snacks, and anything your heart might desire" stand with a pile of odds and ends behind it. There was also our 'official' stand, that is, the one that advertised our services.
A large part was dedicated to our expertise at construction of replicas, with pictures of our two most notable projects, the federation starbase replica in orbit of Pluto, and our 1/100 replica of an Imperial Star Destroyer. The stand was manned by a varied assortment of drones, including the 'trekkie' group and the stormtrooper drones.
Once I had conducted a quick review of that stand, I took a look around, and noticed a genuine pitchfork and torches mob. I was starting to wonder where the mob had found such antique equipment when I noticed a duo of my drones selling them to onlookers. I was in the process of stomping over to stop them when the crowd suddenly ran away from a psychotic nut job with a gun instead of a hand.

12-21-2006, 03:51 AM

I look over the crowd which has degenerated into utter chaos, trying to find out where that many pitchforks had come from when I notice a pair of Drones selling them and a guy trying to hide them. Igniting my rocket boots I fly towards the guy, my lab-coat billowing dramatically behind me, while calling out: "Hey! You there!"

^_^

The instant the.... panty grenade (didn't the drones buy a box of those?) exploded, I knew that the authorities would come by later, so I rushed to the drones and started trying to hide the proof, or at the very least get them to stop waving it in the air and trying to sell it. I suddenly heard a loud whoosh, "Hey! You there!" Hoping that, against all odds, I was not the one being addressed, I turn my head and, aghast, saw a man flying, with genuine rocket boots, towards me.
I probably shouldn't have been surprised, I could probably cobble up something similar with liberal applications of handwavium, but the chances of meeting someone crazy enough to use rocket boots are just... beyond understanding. I had spent a full minute in flabbergasted surprise when I suddenly recognized the man and let out a loud mental scream, "Fuck, the Professor. Quick, have to hide the drones somehow."
And, of course, the drone with the pitchforks chose that moment to pipe up, "Greetings good sir. Would you be interested in one of our genuine wood pitchfork and torch combo? It's our lynch mob special right now, 25% off if you buy both."
Landing in front of me and looking me over we an unreadable expression, he says. "I assume these drones are yours?"
I look down at the drone, sigh, and reply, "Yeah, I guess so."
He suddenly grabs my hand and pump's it while congratulating me on a job well done. "Excellent for setting the mood, I really must commend your work. Lynch mobs just aren't the same without torches and pitchforks."

^_^

Weaving through the crowd who where getting out of my way for some reason, really I didn't expect fen to be this easily intimidated, I followed after the Professor. Only to see him shaking the hand of some blond guy who looks somewhat nervous and completely befuddled. He must have heard one of the bad rumors about the Professor. At least he looks harmless and the mob doesn't look like it will reform, so I shift back to normal mode.
I guess I better help this guy out, the Professor can be a bit overwhelming at times, especially when you are not used to him. Grabbing the Professor's shoulder I introduce him and myself.

^_^

I knew, or rather had heard, that the Professor was odd, but getting congratulated for setting the right mood for his own lynch mob just caused my brain to do the biological equivalent of a GPF error and I couldn't do much more than mumble thanks as my arm was shaken. Thankfully, someone grabbed the Professor's shoulder and interrupted him long enough for my brain to reboot. I turned my head and saw that the psycho from earlier had put her gun-arm away, "I'm sorry the Professor gets a little excited sometimes. My name is Miyu, and this is the Professor, you probably have heard about him already."
Although she was polite, the way she looked at me gave the distinct feeling that she somehow felt that I was just an insect and should be glad she lowered herself to talk to me. For a moment I had to fight the urge to reprogram her with a sledgehammer and a monkey wrench. Outwardly, I only smiled, "Hello Miyu. I'm Laurent Veilleux, Captain of the Schrottplatz. I did hear much about the Professor, but little of it was flattering, so I'm withholding judgment for now."
The torch drone handed Miyu and the Professor business cards reading, "Schrottplatz Transportation and Construction Company. Fine suppliers of your heart's desire since 2010."

^_^

"Put one little death ray on the Eiffel tower and they never let you forget it." Mumbled the Professor. I ignored him and took the card, so he'd been one year in business then. "It's a pleasure to meet you Captain Veilleux. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?" I ask gesturing to the cafe of to the side, doing the bare minimum of politeness. After all we had accosted him, not the other way around.

^_^

I was going to reply, but I noticed that the drones seemed to be plotting together and gesturing the Professors way. Deciding to pre-empt further trouble, I turned to them, "And you two, that's enough trouble. Get back to the ship right now."
They seemed to be thinking of refusing to obey me, but I had pulled my monkey wrench from my belt and was not very discrete in my intentions towards them. They wisely chose to run off. I turned back to the Professor and Miss Psycho, "Coffee would be great, thank you."
As we settled down in the cafe Miyu went to get our orders, the Professor tried to strike up a conversation with me. "Lau, do you mind if I call you Lau? Anyway Lau those are fascinating drones you have there, how do you power them? They seem to have excellent initiative, what algorithm did you use for the Alpha-Beta pruning?"
The Professor seemed to be the sort to ask questions without stopping for answers, so I quickly interrupted him, "I don't mind Lau. The drones use a power source of their own devising; they used to just run around with extension cords behind them. And I have no idea what Alpha-Beta pruning is, but as for their initiative, well, I had built a few of them and one day, they started exchanging ideas and, before I could react, they had modified each other beyond whatever plans I had for them."
I sighed, "To be perfectly honest, Professor, I don't understand them anymore. They are an experiment that spun wildly out of control. They even reproduce for christ's...!" My mind caught up to what I was saying and I sighed again, "Sorry about that."
"Ah the power of Science, no need to be sorry, I am a fellow man of Science! I understand how frustrating it is to not being able to gather all the data on your creations, but that is the beauty of SCIENCE! Eventually we all need to let our creations go into the wide world, but there is always the next experiment!" The Professor got up and was pacing around waving my arms for emphasis. "Trust in the Power of SCIENCE!"
I looked dubiously at the Professor, "Science? Cobbling together whatever I can scrounge up from various junkyards and coating it with several coatings of Handwavium is science?" I shook my head, "I really don't think it is Professor. I'm far from Scientist material. I'm just a guy who was tired of washing the dishes and built drones to do it for him, nothing more, nothing less."
"But of course it is Science, you formed a hypothesis, that handwavium could animate drones to do the dishes, and tested it by building the. Oh sure it was just a small step for mankind, but we can't all be Neil Armstrong. By gradually advancing step-by-step we push forward the boundaries of knowledge! That is the power of SCIENCE!"
At that point Miyu returned with the drinks, interrupting the professors rant before it could really get started.
"Oi Prof! We are done on our end. How did your meeting with those SOS-dan people go?" Asked a pink haired girl in some sort of uniform, shouting to be heard over the crowd as she and a blue haired girl headed towards us.
"Their leader appreciates the power of SCIENCE!" Answered the professor at an unnecessary volume now that they where sitting down next to us, drawing quite a bit of attention from the crowd, especially since many where wondering about the mysterious SOS-dan.
"Catty, Ryoko this is Captain Laurent Veilleux. Captain Veilleux, this is Catty Nebulart," Miyu interjected, gesturing towards the pink haired girl, "and that is Ryoko Asakura." Gesturing this time to the smiling girl with long blue hair in a schoolgirl uniform.
I rose an eyebrow at the mention of the organisation that called the convention. The Professors reaction, though, made me think that their leader might be as odd as him. I had to check though; maybe I was simply mistaken, "Is that leader you mention as..." I tried to find a more diplomatic word than odd, "enthusiastic as you are?"
I should probably have asked about the goals of the organisation instead but, to be perfectly honest, I didn't really care all that much and could wait patiently for them to tell me on their own.

"Haruhi-sama is one of the rare few that understand the greatness of my work, her enthusiasm is even greater than mine. She is truly an inspiration, if only there were more leaders with her vision." Said the Professor. I did notice that all three of the Professors assistant reacted to the honorific. In Miyu's case it was a rising of the eyebrows, Her expression showing surprise. Catty blinked and seemed pleased about something, but Ryoko reacted the most. She froze, only for a moment and her serene smile never slipped, but now I could see it for the mask it was.
"Sama? Isn't that an awfully respectful form of address for the leader of an organisation he isn't even a member of?" I thought. And judging by the reactions of the Professor's androids, I wasn't the only one to think so.
It was at that point that my brain caught up to the rest of the sentence, "Greater!!!"
Only a slight sharpening of my breathing betrayed my horror at the thought of someone being worse than the Professor.
It was at that point that I noticed that my silence would soon stretch too far, "Really? She sounds like a very... impressive person."
"Oh she is. I hope you will support her tomorrow." Before the professor could continue though someone behind me called out. "Laurent old buddy! How have you been? Won't you introduce me to these three beauties here?"
I definitely knew that voice, and a glance confirmed it. Roguish smile, red hair, a rifle on the back and so, bloody, tall. I waved without turning around and replied, "Hey Taesha, meet Miyu, Ryoko, Catty and the Professor." I pointed to each person as I named them.
I then looked at the Professor and his assistants and hooked my thumb back towards Taesha, "Don't mind her, she's just likes attention"
"So, how's been life treating you these days?" I finally turned around to look at Taesha, and noticed that she had stopped listening to me at some point, instead openly leering at Miyu.
Miyu just looked Taesha over and deliberately schooled her features into a dismissal while answering in a frosty but polite tone "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Taesha." While making it abundantly clear that this was not the case.
"Oh no the pleasure is all mine. What do you say to a little private meeting, just the two of us?"
"I would be delighted, however I have a duty to protect the Professor."
"Oh don't worry yourself on my account Miyu. Go and have some fun for a change."
"Of course professor. In that case I'll finish the report for the Beta-404 series of tests. After all I'm sure I can persuade Taesha to volunteer for a few tests." Agreed Miyu her voice much warmer than before but with a strong undercurrent of danger. The psychotic little smile on her face caused half the fen in attendance to take a step back.
"Gulp, eh why don't we stay here for a bit, I am curious about these SOS-dan people." Answered a suddenly very nervous looking Taesha.
"I believe that is my cue." said a smiling guy in a business suit as he stepped forward. "My name is Itsuki Koizumi, and I am a member of the SOS-dan."
"Ah Koizumi a pleasure to meet you again." Said the Professor as he got up, "Unfortunately duty calls, and I must get back to work. Please convince these people of the rightness of our cause in the name of SCIENCE!"
"Captain Veilleux, it was a pleasure to meet you. Taesha" Said Miyu getting up and giving a short bow to both of us.
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."

12-21-2006, 03:53 AM

As I began to make my way through the process of Con registration, I thought about that wiley Professor and how we had met just a year or so ago...
***
"We had a little accident up here and need an emergency delivery of supplies. How many kilograms of coffee could you deliver?" asked the lab-coated man on my monitor. "And mountain dew syrup?"
"As much as you can fit on a VW Jetta," I replied. "Which could be fairly substantial if you weren't picky about where and how you packed it on."
"That will do," the scientist said eagerly. "We ran out of mountain dew syrup. Which just so happens to be what the engines run on. It's cheaper in bulk per gram of caffeine than coffee you, see."
I grinned at that. "Ah, but of course. I can have a full load out to you in... Lets see, where are you at right now?"
"Europa. As in the moon, not the continent. Put one little monument to productive use and all of a sudden you become a persona-no-grata."
I was suddenly stricken with an explosive case of the snickers. "Oh, so that was you. My hat's off to you then, sir. I can be there with your shipment in about twelve Earth-Hours. Sound good to you?"
"That will do. Fifty kilograms of coffee then and 200 liters of mountain dew syrup."
"Gotcha then, Prof. Gimme an hour for procurement and about Ten hours transit. I'll have my AI forward you the billing info." This was followed by some highly exuberant form of vocal agreement that consisted of barely intelligible praises to the Fair Mother of Science. With that, the connection was cut and I pinged Gina.
"So? We got a job?" she said.
"Yup. Fifty kilos of coffee and two hundred liters of 'Dew syrup concentrate."
She synthesized an appreciative whistle at that. "It's gonna be a packed-in load."
"Not too packed in I think. Anyhow, go ahead and procure the order for me. I'm forwarding the billing information to you now."
"No sweat."
It did indeed take me all of an hour to get the cargo loaded into the Jetta. Between the trunk and the back seat, I was able to get all eleven five-gallon bag-in-boxes of Dew loaded without a problem. It was as close as I could get to two hundred liters without stiffing the guy. The fifty kilos of Coffee, equivalent to about one hundred and ten pounds, fit easily in the front seat.
As opposed to my usual patterns, I didn't sleep through the trip until we hit the Jovian system. I had just come off a full twelve hours of sleep after being awake for nearly thirty-six hours.
The first view I had of the Sol Bianca was definitely impressive. At almost 80 meters long, she completely dwarfed Gina. The ship had seen better days though. Odd constructs where sticking out of the once clean white hull, but the clean lines and decorative gilded embellishments were still visible. I shook my head at the sight and sighed. He was probably so busy with other stuff that he didn't have any time to do anything about the state of his ship. At least it wasn't quite as bad as some of the kludge jobs I'd seen, but all the same, the Galaxy Express 999 it was certainly not. Oh well.
"Yo, Ben," said the AI all the sudden. "They're hailing us."
"Good, so they know we're here. Put 'em on the Driver's Side, would ya?" I said as I reached up and pulled down the LCD display.
"Channel's open."
"This is Bullet Boy Express to Sol Bianca, inbound with a big shipment of Java and Dew for the Professor. How would ya like me to link up with you?"
"Oh thank goodness you are here," said a cute blue haired schoolgirl as she winked onto said display. "I'm opening the hangar bay now. Can you use nav-markers?"
I restrained myself from making comments about the kawaii-factor and said, "No sweat, kiddo. Send me the data stream, Gina can handle whatever you chuck at her."
"Transmitting now. Welcome aboard the Sol Bianca."
***
The packed, silver VW Jetta swung neatly and nimbly into the docking bay, oddly resembling the DeLorian from the Back To The Future movies because of the way the wheels went from being vertical thrusters to normal wheels as it touched down. The only difference here was that I didn't have about a half-ton of nuclear fusion reactor in the back. That was in the engine compartment instead. How the hell the Handwavium had turned the Volkswagen internal combustion engine into a fusion turbine equivalent was beyond me. It probably hadn't help that I was severely sleep deprived at the time I was working on it.
Once Gina gave me the all clear, I got out and stretched my legs. As packed in as it was in there, I at least didn't have to put myself through any discomfort to make this delivery. But still, ten hours is ten hours and it feels very good to get an almighty-big stretch that would put any and all neko-girls to shame.
Speaking of girls, I didn't expect to be greeted by two worried looking examples of the species, one of which immediately went of with a BIB of syrup. I definitely didn't expect her to be in such a hurry that she tore the lid of my trunk off.
"You have to forgive Catty," said the other as I stared in shock at the hatchway she'd disappeared through. "We aren't quite sure how much longer the backup generator will hold out. We will of course cover the repairs."
"Ah, okay then," I said as I began to realize what was next. "But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
"SHE DID WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?" screamed the AI on the stereo system, causing all in the area-of-effect to wince. "Let me at her! I'll kill her!" continued Gina, well on her way to a rant session and revving the fusion turbine for effect. "No, I'll torture her and then kill her!"
"While I agree her haste is unbecoming, that seems a little extreme," said the girl. "We will of course do everything we can to apologize for her behavior... Oh I'm sorry I didn't get your name, I'm Miyu, the girl who just left is Catty."
"Uh, the name's Ben, this is Gina, and excuse me while I stop her from going on a homicidal rampage." I then went to the front of the car and place my hands down on the hood, as though I could really stop her if she got it in her head to cause some mayhem. "Gina, it's okay, I'll fix it. Happy place, Gina. Remember your happy place?"
At that moment the door opened and the blue haired girl who greeted me, entered.
"Oh my I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said cheerfully. "I wanted to thank you for the speedy delivery. I hope you will stay a while, it is not often that we get visitors."
"killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill" uttered the AI inanely despite what was going on.
"Ah, yeah, thanks, just give me a moment to calm Gina down here."
The blue hair girl then did something that was either very stupid or very gutsy. She Walked up to the car, gently rested her hand on it, and smiled. "Come now I'm sure there isn't a reason to be so upset."
"SHE DAMAGED MY BODY!" raved Gina as she threw the front end up on the hydraulics.
"I know she did, Gina!" I said desperately - a half ton of Handwavium-enhanced space-faring automobile was not something I needed rampaging around in here. "I promise I'll fix it right away! I'll even throw in a new wax and tire job!"
Suddenly, she became silent. "Throw in a tune up and I MIGHT! reconsider."
I sighed with a combination of relief and exasperation. "Deal."
Relaxing slightly now that her fellow crew member was no longer being threatened Miyu stepped closer. "I already told you Gina-san we will take care of everything."
In response to that, Gina only harrumphed.
"Why don't I show you to your quarters?" said Ryoko, turning to me. "You must be tired after such a long trip. We prepared the royal guest suite for you."
I sighed once more now that the adrenaline was starting to die down a bit. "Yes thank you. And I'd advise that you just go ahead and let me handle the repairs. Gina is extremely particular about who handles that sort of business."
"As you wish Ben-san, though if we can be of any help please don't hesitate to ask." Answered Miyu.
"Thank you. Soooo, where is this Professor fellow anyways?" I could feel the big, shit-eating grin begin to form on my face. "I wanted to thank him personally for pantsing so many tight-asses on Earth."
"He is unfortunately still asleep. We didn't want to try waking him without coffee. do you mind if we finish unloading without you here?"
For a brief moment, imagery of another incident occurring and Gina going absolutely nuts blowing the Sol Bianca to hell flitted through my head.
"Ahh, I'd better help."
"Very well." Walking over to the wall mounted communicator she called out, "Catty please get back here. We need to unload the supplies." Suiting action to deed in a manner of moments the car was emptied between the four of them. And, after a pointed elbow from Miyu, Catty cheerfully apologized to Gina. The AI had only barely and grudgingly accepted the apology. With that out of the way, Ryoko led the way to my room chattering cheerfully all the while about the history of the ship and whatever experiment she caught me eying. The Interior of the Sol Bianca was surreal, even for a fenspace ship. The hallway was very posh with a very nice looking carpet on the floors and wood paneling on the walls, but the beauty was marred by various hodgepodge additions. There where tubes with bubbling fluids in them,circuit boards mounted on the walls with blinking lights, one section even looked organic, and some of the rooms I looked into seemed larger than they should be, though it could just be an optical illusion. The quarters themselves where without doubt the most expensive suite I had ever stayed at, almost everything being made from hardwood, and with tasteful gilding and the window gave a spectacular view of Jupiter.
"Thank you kindly, Ryoko," I said as I turned back to my guide. "Would it be possible for you to send a tool kit to the dock in a couple hours?"
"Of course, if you need anything just use the intercom. I assume you'll also be needing tires and a waxing machine?"
"Whatever you could supply would be appreciated, thank you."
"You are welcome. Good night."
Once I was alone, I kicked off my shoes, ditched my Rocketeer jacket on the couch and hit the hay. When I awoke, I checked the time - it'd been about five hours. I was actually more used to sleeping in short bursts like this rather than the long twelve hour naps, and so I crawled out of bed, slipped the shoes and jacket back on, and gave the intercom a buzz.
"I hope you slept well," answered Ryoko. "Gina is a fascinating conversationalist. Everything you should need is in the hangar. Do I need to come fetch you or can you find the way here by yourself?"
That made me blink in mild surprise. Usually when Gina talks to someone it's to cause general mayhem. I would have to look into this and make certain that she did not scare off a potential regular.
"No thank you, I can find it on my own."
***
I could have sworn that the hangar was over here, I thought to myself, as I wandered past Tesla Coils that I hadn't noticed yesterday. I did, however, hear some muttering and a banging noise that signified someone at work. Since I was not one of those cliche types of men who never stops for directions, I figured I could ask whoever was making that racket... As long as he didn't mind being disturbed. I followed the sounds, dodging the occasional light-show from the coils, and opened the door from which the noises came. Suddenly I ducked just in time as something flew over my head, propelled by a mighty explosion to embed itself in the wall behind me. Turning back around and looking into the room there was a somewhat charred individual in a lab coat, grinning from ear to ear.
"It worked! It worked! Well sort of, but this is just the first step, no challenge is too great for the Power of SCIENCE!"
"That's great and all, Professor Toasty," I chimed in, "but can it direct me to where I parked my car?"
"Oh sorry I didn't see you there," said the seemingly mad scientist in a quite congenial manner. "You should be careful. There are all kinds of dangerous things down here, like those." He said pointing to a bunch of broken containers with bio-hazard signs. I blinked at that and I began to get very worried.
"Oh no not again." He then sighed and went on, "I'll lead you to the hangar, I need to head over there to brew up the counter-agent anyway."
"..... Should I be worried? I'm not about to be attacked by radioactive spiders or something, am I?"
"Oh no, the worst that will happen is that your hair turns green and get sudden cravings for bratwurst." I suddenly had the most peculiar imagery of Kyouichi Saionji from Revolutionary Girl Utena going hog-wild on brats. "Quite a disappointment. It was meant to help remove the language barrier by having everyone speak Engrish, but instead it causes people to speak French. Bah"
"Oh? And who would be so deserving of such a fate?" I asked, a smile creeping across my face at the thought of certain 'Danelaw politicians being affected by such a thing.
***
And so it went back then. What followed was a month long series of collaborative projects in which I finally managed to arm Gina as I had always wanted to and got my bio-mod done. It would be nice to get to see him again and catch up with what he's been up to. I noted in the Con schedule that he was going to be giving a speech and resolved to be there to hear it - he was such a fun motivational speaker.
So, with registration out of the way, I began to make my way to a the bar. This was gonna be problematic because not only was I a BNF, but, through a lucky draw from the genetic deck, I was a natural born bishounen. In fact, no sooner than I got into the main concourse did I hear a fuku-clad girl squeal.
"IT'S RUHODESU-SAMA!!!"
Oh boy. Time to run...
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."

12-21-2006, 04:53 AM

I casually waved to Mal as I wandered off to the marketplace; given his inclinations he was going to go track down news of what was going on. Fine by me, really... there were a few things that I wanted to try to find. For instance, I heard that Red Steel was neat, and I wanted to get a Wii. Oh, and processors for biological stuff. I could probably tinker something together, but it wasn't really my area of expertise and I'd much prefer to work on stuff that was more fun.
Of course, before that I snagged another beer, as wandering around without a drink in hand at this point in the con would almost be against protocol. The various stalls setup were featuring all sorts of wares, both mundane and not. Which was all well and good, and would provide hours of browsing entertainment later, but right now I wanted to get my Wii. While I'd made reservation arrangements while we were enroute, there was probably going to be enough of a demand for the things that it might get sold out from under me.
"Hey Dee," I muttered, apparently to thin air. A 3" tall holographic girl popped into existence at shoulder height, a bit off to the side of my field of vision. She was looking more or less like Cortana this week.
"Yeah boss?" she replied.
"There any maps around? Looking for Stan's."
"Hang on a sec... yeah, second row, couple back."
"Domo." Best PDA ever, really. Nevermind that I was trying for something completely different at the time, it all worked out fine. Mostly. I sipped the bottle of Guinness as I walked that way. Really, I suppose I didn't actually have to ask how to find Stan.
"Welcome, welcome to Stan's Kwalitee Danegoods!" he shouted from his stall. "The finest new and used goods from..." Dee had hid at the first sign I was getting close. Smart girl
"Just, please, stop talking," I muttered, wincing. Stan was a fixture, and had been picked because, among other things, he was the most likely to be able to hang onto the merchandise. But his voice gave me a headache... and that suit...
"What can I do for you, sir? There's a wide selection of current fashions, but today I'm selling them below cost to pass on the savings!"
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, with a bit of an edge. He looked me up and down, taking in the Hawaiian shirt, the camoflage fatigue pants, the combat boots and the pair of swords crossed at my left hip.
"Nothing at all, sir," he answered smoothly. "Perhaps you'd be interested in..."
"No, stop... I'm KJ, I arranged shipment of a Wii, it's prepaid, could you get it so I can be on my way?" I interrupted, rattling off the statement all at once before he could start talking.
"Right away sir," he said, disappearing behind the booth. "And if you'd be interested in anything else, feel free to browse and... here we go!" He produced the boxed Wii, which I hurriedly crammed into my duffle bag. Before he could start talking again, I had fled the scene.
"Like hell I'm going to buy clothes from someone in lime green pants, a blue shirt, red tie, sombrero, and a purple and green checkerboard jacket," I muttered to myself, as I put my head down and proceeded away from the scene. Which is why I didn't notice when I ran into another congoer.
"Oh, geez, I'm sorry," I said as I helped him up, then paused and noted my shirt was soaked, my voice was higher and... oh yeah, I had breasts now. Great. "Uh... do you know where the nearest restroom is?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and mentally cursing the effects of cumulative handwavium exposure. He gestured to a corner of the room and I hurried off.
Really, I don't know why that happened. Okay, so I end up using handwavium a lot to make machine tools to make other things, and breaking them down afterwards sends some of the stuff in dust form around the section of the Explain Star's cargo bay that I sectioned off for the shop. But a pseudo-Jusenkyo curse? Personally, I vaguely blamed Dee, though I didn't hold it against her or bring it up. What's done is, and hell it vastly increased the number of characters I could cosplay as.
"Hey," she spoke up, appearing in the side of my vision again. "Ptichka sent out a message saying Mal wants to see us back at the Star."
"Just as well, only dry shirt I've got in here is too tight on me in girlform," I replied as I pulled on the Zim t-shirt in question and headed back.

In this crowd, I suppose an irate 6' tall redhead with daisho at her waist wouldn't draw much attention, even if they did know that I'd gone towards the market area with brown hair and a different gender. The other inhabitants of the Explain Star were even more used to this sort of thing happening every so often. Well, Elena seemed about to ask some question or other, but paused and reconsidered as she saw the irritated look on my face.
"Tell Mal I'll be right back," I grumbled as I stormed into the section of the 'Star that I'd more or less claimed for my own. The workshop was one of the things I'd talked Mal into as a necessity, and I was glad of it. I calmed down as I watched some finishing operations going on one of the automated machining centers. Not that I disliked the handwavium, but I was trained as an engineer, and highly advanced technology that I could understand was reassuring. Mundane technology, perhaps, but only in the sense that it was made to human blueprints. I'd fairly quickly realized that despite everything handwavium could do, there would always be a place for stuff that worked in comprehensible ways, without random... features. Conservative reaction, perhaps, but I made a decent income making bits for other people who realized how little we actually knew about the stuff and were a bit iffy on trusting their lives to it completely.
Okay, to be honest, I was cheating a bit. There wasn't room for a full assortment of machine tools, so I had to break them down and reassemble them into other things using handwavium. Fortunately, the quirks from this mostly manifested in the form of very strange units; the milling machine was taking a cut out of a piece of alloy that it measured in tiny little fractions of a light year, and none of the placards on it were in any langauge I recognized. Part of the reason I made Dee though.
I sighed and stretched, rummaging through a drawer and extracting a dry Hawaiian shirt and a bra. Truth to tell, the quasi-curse didn't bother me that much, except for two things. Of course, it seemed to follow Murphy's law; when I was in a hurry and didn't have the proper stuff to change into, I'd be more likely to walk into someone or slip into a puddle, or run out into a rainstorm, or whatever. That wouldn't have been much of an issue if it didn't hurt so much to change more than once a day.
"Oh well, whatever," I muttered to myself as I tied my hair back and adjusted the swords. "Sorry about the delay," I said as I wandered back into the common area.
"These things happen," Mal casually replied, and I couldn't help but break into a grin at the fact that we lived in a universe where that was true.

drakensis · 12-21-2006, 02:29 PM

It's not entirely uncommon for Fens to come and go from a Con. After all, not everyone turns up for the whole thing, and there's usually a fairly constant flow of Fen back to their vehicles for a quick nap (since unlike a Con back on Earth, there's usually no particular reason to accomodate a given time zone and events happen around the clock).
Going all the way out to a vehicle parked well away from Phobos and then coming back a few hours would have probably made a few people suspicious that I was Up To Something, were it not that a significant fraction of Fendom suspect me of that anyway. The truth is that I needed to feed the Saint Bernard.
No, I'm not kidding. She apparently draws energy from my sleeping aboard. REM sleep specifically. I don't recall any dreams and I rather suspect I don't want to.
As usual, I used the excuse of going back to get into costume. I used to always attend as Gendo Ikari, since I already had the beard, but Kandor requires me to admit that it was creepy and that I'll never do it again. (No, really. Treaty of Kandor-con, last year. One of the clauses they snuck in around the issues of Moonbase Alpha's hazardous wastes storage bars me from using the costume.)
So this time, when I climbed out of the Jaime Retief, I was wearing a the costume of a Konohagakure no Sato jonin-sensei.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

12-21-2006, 04:33 PM

I waved a quick goodbye to the Professor and his assistants before turning back to Koizumi. For some reason, his smile made me think he found me amusing, in a "I know more than you" kind of way. "Hello Koizumi. I'm Laurent Veilleux and this is Taesha..." "Just Taesha."
I glanced at Taesha, puzzled at the interruption, before shrugging and looking straight at Koizumi, obviously waiting for him to tell me why he came to me. His smile widened annoyingly and gestured for us to follow him as he walked towards a more secluded part of the shop.
We followed him and, after a quick glance around, Koizumi began, "Captains, I was sent to request your assistance."
I arched an eyebrow, traded a glance with Taesha and, seeing that she was as clueless as me, replied, "I can't see what you would need the both of us for, then. Taesha and I have very little in common."
"We - that is, the SOS-dan - would like you and your crew to support Miss Suzumiya's initiative tomorrow. More to the point, we would like you to support the initiative even if it fails to win the vote."
My bewilderment with the oddly smiling man grew even more, "Why?"
"You both have some notoriety amongst the Fen. You, captain Taesha, are fairly well known for the way you left earth and you, captain Veilleux, have one of the most recognised crews."
I groaned. I should really have known that most of my reputation was due to the Drones. Koizumi just kept talking, "Additionally, you and your crews have skills that may be necessary."
Taesha snorted, "You still haven't given any good information y'know? Like Lau said, we don't have much in common so I can't see what you could need the both of us for."
Koizumi smiled again (I really hate that smile) and explained, in an annoyingly roundabout way, that the SOS-dan had acquired significant information regarding the raiders and were planning on organizing a taskforce to deal with them permanently.
I just looked at him like he had just grown a new head. I mean, I could understand that he'd seek out Taesha, she and her crew were pretty good bounty hunters, but, "I'm just a fucking kludger, not a fighter!"
Taesha snorted, "Remember the Drunken Harlock?"
"One bar brawl does not make me a fighter." I waved my hands around for emphasis.
"The Dancing Shinobi."
"Oh all right, two brawls then."
She just coughed. I grumbled, "Oh alright, more than that, but I was barely able to walk away from most of them."
She laughed back, "You're usually the only one that can walk away from them."
"Er... I only did so well because I cheated. I even use my tools as weapons."
"Lau, I saw you beat a Zanbatou wielding psycho with a sledge hammer."
I raised my finger, and froze, unable to find a counter argument that would not be a lie.
"See? You're way stronger than you look."
I looked down at myself, and then back up at Taesha, "That's just because I work almost constantly with Handwavium. And anyway, my ship couldn't fight raiders."
Taesha guffawed, "Ah! You have the Drone catapult and there's no ship that can survive a group of Drones on board for long. Well, except yours anyway."
Oh come on, none of my Drones are crazy or suicidal enough to launch themselves at an hostile ship.
Taesha looked at me oddly, and pointed towards the nearby storefront window. I turned my head to look, and was presented with the odd sight of a Drone balancing several meters off the ground from a rope attached to its neck. It was also in the process of waving a sign that read, Please kill me.
I sat there looking at the Drone for a full minute before turning back to Taesha, Why do you want me to do this so much anyway? Heck, why do YOU want to do it for free?
Taeshas face lost all traces of humour, and I suddenly knew that something was wrong. Taesha NEVER stopped looking like she was having fun unless the situation was serious. She sighed, Thats why I was looking for you. Gabes nowhere to be found, and I havent been able to contact him for months.
Oh, shit. Gabe was a very successful asteroid ferrying specialist, and a good friend of Taesha and I. Knowing him, he wouldnt miss the convention for all the money in the galaxy and would, in fact, have arrived a long time before I ever did, Damn, now I have to look for a new supplier.
I dont think Taesha appreciated my attempt at dark humour because next thing I knew, she had grabbed my head and,
*WHAM*
Introduced it to the table. She had begun lifting my head and I was getting ready for the second impact when Koizumi interrupted Taesha, Please, he clearly meant to alleviate the atmosphere.
Taesha reluctantly let go of my head, and we both slightly reddened, suddenly reminded that there had been a spectator for our antics. Taesha cleared her throat and looked straight at Koizumi, studiously ignoring me, Count me in.
She then stood up and marched away. I looked at her for a moment, regretting my words a bit. That regret is probably what caused me to also express my support for the SOS-dan. Koizumi smiled, thanked me, and left.
I spent a moment alone, looking at my empty cup, before I left as well. For a few minutes, I wandered around aimlessly, before I spotted a bar, The Tipsy Senshi huh?
I felt a strong need for a drink at that moment, so I walked in.

Black Aeronaut · 12-21-2006, 11:23 PM

It wasn't that I didn't like attention. Really. But when about fifty Fen-femmes, mostly of the magical pretty girl persuasion, all come out to tackle and do only Goddess knows what to you... Well, usually fight-or-flight instincts kick in pretty hard. Mom raised me to be a gentleman, so hitting any of them unless they gave me reason to was out of the question, and so I ran.
There are places where most self-respecting MPG's usually never go. A bar is one of these places. To be sure, there are a few exceptions to the rule, but this would keep the vast majority of ravenous fan girls off of me until I could sneak out.
One inparticcular caught my eye, called The Tipsy Senshi. I knew that diving into there was just asking for trouble, but it was the only bar in sight, so I decided to take my chances.
It was actually nicer than I thought. Waitresses went about clad in Sailor Senshi fuku's, the Barkeep put on a pretty good Tuxedo Kamen, and the decore, while certainly pink, was not as garish as one might at first think.
With a weary sigh, I sat down next to a fellow who's face had recently had a close encounter with a table (ouch!) and placed an order for a hard lemonade.

Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."

drakensis · 12-22-2006, 01:24 AM

Once I'd digested the morsel of information that Mr Scott (Mr William Scott, fer cryin' out loud) of the DEA had given me, and caught a bit of sleep, I decided not to enjoy what time was left before the moving and shaking began.
Oddly enough, I didn't have too many irons in the fire at the moment. The Venus Terraforming Project was humming along merrily (the new matter notwithstanding), I'd been pretty hands off with regard to Davis-Monthan for the last six months, there were no significant frictions over Moonbase Alpha's nuclear waste storage business (well, no more than usual), and I'd got out of the asteroid mining business a back before Kandor-Con. The Yamato/Konig deal might be interesting, but it was a one-shot deal (well, maybe three-shot deal if they raised all three ships), so it was looking like being rather quiet for the immediate future. Maybe I should look at that hydrogen farming project that I'd heard about...
I resolutely put that aside and began to work my way through the crowds of people and other people that had congregated for the Con. I wasn't actually heading for anyone on the floor though, so once I'd reached a point suitably congrugent to my destination I stopped and pulled a little gadget out of my utility vest, gesturing for those around me to give me a little room.
The gizmo in question was a grappling cable of the kind used for construction work inside of mined-out asteroids. They're very useful in zero gravity, but they have their uses even when there is a gravity field, as I proved when I planted the grapple securely in the roof and had the stout little motor haul me up quickly, using the light swing to move me over to the stand set up by the Village of Hidden Asteroid.
Catching hold of the end of the stand, I released the grapple and waved to the many other ninja congregating here, all by their own means. "Yo," I said waving with my one free hand. "Sorry I'm late. Got lost on the road of life."
I must be losing my touch, I only had to dodge two casually thrown shuriken.D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

12-22-2006, 01:48 AM

Mal's explanation of what he'd been told provided a lot of clue as to what the whole thing was about, but a lot more questions as well. I knew I was game; damned if I was happy with the idea of anyone preying on other Fen in a large scale fashion, no matter what faction. Details remained to be determined, obviously, and a lot of details there were. Still, I suppose they're be likely to explain tomorrow. That should prove interesting.
Until then, it was a con, and something this wide-scale there'd be bound to be more of the people I'd been exchanging emails with. With that, I wandered back out into the fray.
"Hey Dee, could you ping the racer's mailing list, see who's here? I could have sworn I saw a Jetta on the way in..."
"Sure thing, bosslady." I muttered at that, but wandered towards the section of the town that had bars. And paused in front of one with a medium-sized horde of magical girls and other femmes milling around it. Clearly they had some reason for being there but were unwilling to go into anyplace as disreputable as a bar. Or maybe they were underage. I'd take what I could get.
"Scratch that, Dee. Ben was the one with the... well..." I gestured at the crowd.
"Yep."
"Bingo, then," I grinned as I plowed through the crowd. The Tipsy Senshi was far from the normal sort of place I'd frequent; pink decor not really being to my taste, but the waitresses were pretty. Claiming a barstool, and arranging the swords at my side so that passers-by wouldn't trip over them, I ordered a Guinness and considered the bishounen and the gentleman with the facial damage.
"Let me guess," I said to the first. "You're Ben, right? No, wait, I'm not normally female." That sounded so much less terrible in my head.

Black Aeronaut · 12-23-2006, 10:15 PM

Okay, here's the post that Hunterminator and I were working on, done from his character's POV except for my character's Big Reaction at the end. KJ? Got instant messaging? E-mail?

I glared at the three quarter empty bottle of scotch, and my reflection glared back. I was finally starting to be pleasantly drunk and I was already running out of alcohol.
Ok, so my habit of only sipping alcohol the second its any good might have something to do with it, but still, I wanted to be so drunk that I couldnt remember that I had volunteered to what amounted to pirate hunting even though I always made a point to avoid fights as much as possible when Im sober anyway.
Someone sat beside me, and I straightened up to look at the new arrival. I arched an eyebrow when I noticed that he was breathing hard, as if he had been running. I poured myself another shot, took a sip, and nodded to him, So, what brings you away from the convention.
"About a hundred rabid, screaming fangirls," he replied after he took a healthy pull off his hard lemonade.
I brushed the bruise on my face, Women.
I thought about it a bit more, before amending, Females.
To punctuate the statement, I took another sip.
"You too?" he asks as he takes another pull on his beverage.
I shrugged, Not that many, but crazier. Violent women are worse than fangirls no matter how you look at it.
"Heh," he replied. "I think I could handle one or two violent girls compared to the some hundred sitting outside this establishment, waiting for me to come out. By the way, the name's Benjamin Rhodes, skipper of the Bullet Boy Express."
Laurent Veilleux, Captain of the Schrottplatz. And I said women, not girls. They get worse with age.
I pointed to my face, You know many girls that could do that?
Ben chuckled and grinned slyly. "A few. Depends on how much handwavium said girl has ingested, along with physical build and temperament."
Mmm I spent a minute in thought, Im not sure how much handwavium Taesha ate, but shes had military training at some point and shes the tallest person Ive ever met so Id say shes way up there in the Dont mess with her scale.
"Military chick, huh? Lucky. The only woman in my life right now is my ship, and if Gina thinks I deserve it, she'll be more than happy to make me eat the steering wheel."
I started with chuckling, and slowly escalated to full blown out laughter. After a while, I calmed down, took a sip, and replied, Woman in my life, Taesha, yeah right. Shes a worse womanizer than James Bond even though shes had a steady girlfriend for the last two years.
***
I suddenly jerked around at the female voice with an absolutely panicked look in my eyes as I tried to size up what I was up against. After a few comical looking glances side to side, I found that, aside from the wait staff (Which the Tuxedo Kamen Barkeep had been keeping clear with meaningful glares), there was only one present; a Hawaiian T-shirt bedecked tall buxomly type equipped with a daisho. I then sighed heavily with relief.
"Yeah, I'm Ben, and what do you mean that you're not normally female?"

Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."

Rieverre · 12-23-2006, 10:23 PM

"Do you ever wonder about destiny?"
I looked up from what was left of my serving of salmon in cream sauce.
We'd finally browsed past the less mobbed parts of the promenade, ending up in a place that I wouldn't have set foot in not a few years prior. The place could be described as 'pleasantly posh', with a balcony overlooking that section of the promenade and offering a more or less encompassing view of the festivities.
Like I said, wouldn't have set foot in, if it weren't for the fact that I apparently owned a quarter of it. Or that was what my investment counselor told me.
We'd been having a pleasant silence between us for most of the meal, when she'd sprung that question on me.
"Sure. Doesn't everybody? Though I mostly think it's something we're here to defy. More often than not I just don't care. Shrug, move on."
She laughed softly, nodding, then sipped her coffee.
Coffee?
Eeek. Bitter.
I winced. Did somebody switch our orders?
Possibly, since she was doing something along those lines as well.
We switched cups.
"I've always tended to believe in it. A sort of ... grander destination we are all travelling towards."
I sipped as Maetel spoke. Odd. This one seemed too sweet. I didn't mind that too much, but ...
"It's not necessarily wrong," I shrugged, frowning a bit at the passing moonlight. "Maybe the scope is a little bigger than I've ever bothered with. I'd like to believe in free will and making one's own choices and all that."
"Free Will," she cocked her head, her voice sounding oddly ... out of synch. "The condition of a human soul is perplexing, don't you think? The balance of light contrasted with darkness."
There was _something_ wrong with this picture, I thought as constellations floated up above and the smell of saltwater tickled my nostrils.
"There's no such thing as an absolute, when you really come down to it, I think," what the hell was that ringing in my ears, anyway? "Or maybe I'm just playing Trigon's advocate."
"Indeed, mirror image. Picture perfect. Subtly different from before," the sheer emotionless candor of the statement momentarily floored me, and I could hear the faint sound of china shattering on the floor. "Was your hair always gray?"
"What?" I replied, blood draining from my face as the vastness spun for a moment and then ...
"Katz? Is everything alright?"
I looked up from what was left of my serving of salmon in cream sauce.
My head felt ... odd. The closest I could compare it to was the feeling you get right after you wake up from having passed out. Sort of ... cottony and tingling.
There was a vague, fading recollection of something that I had ... been trying to hold onto?
...
I blinked.
The panorama of the promenade to my left, Fen milling about below, the ceiling in its Saturn configuration again, and everything else perfectly normal.
Maetel was kneeling beside me, one hand on my shoulder, giving me a concerned look with the most brilliantly green pair of eyes I'd ever seen.
I have no idea why I did what I did next, but apparently I didn't mess it up too badly.
Next I knew, I was pulling back, the palm of my hand still cupping on of her cheeks, and the voice of a waiter excusing himself for interrupting sounding from somewhere doorabouts.
"That was ... very pleasant," Maetel blushed faintly. "But why ...?"
A number of insanely inappropriate comments were momentarily shot and buried within my mind, because there was a time and place for that sort of thing, and this were neither one nor the other.
"I ... don't know? No. That's not really true," I said slowly. "But there was a moment there I was insanely grateful that you were you."
"Who else would you think I was?" She said, not accusing, but genuinely curious.
I shook my head in puzzlement. Why did I say that?
I knew it was true, but other than that realization, there was nothing _there_.
Well, whatever it was, it could wait.
"You're right, though. It was very pleasant. Shall we leave it at that for the moment?"
Which was when I found myself on the receiving end.
And, hell, could the girl kiss.

So, I was dancing down the promenade, singing and clapping my heels ...
... no.
Though I was in a pretty good mood. I dare you not to be when you've just ... hmm ... yeah, okay. At this stage, most people would likely be asking themselves 'But does it mean anything, or was it just a spur of the moment kinda deal?'
Me?
Expectations and overplanning never got me anything, so these days I usually tend to just take things one step at a time.
At least in these matters.
We'd gone back down to the promenade - or was that, Maetel had to prod me into it - and yeah, I had to admit that I was having fun mingling.
I'm willing to consider it the exception to the rule.
Socializing is more or less Scales' thing, where our little instigator group at Hermes is concerned. Hell, ever since the guacamole incident he's been responsible for making the Lounge Lizard deal look cool. That takes serious skill. In fact, he was likely somewhere in this mess right now, rubbing elbows and taking names and what you will.
Still, things were going pretty well, everything else considered.
There was a brief moment of unease when I went past the Fenbucks franchise - any coffee, any tea, any time, now featuring the Loon season special (green tea frappucino and carrot) - but that was soon forgotten.
Though I felt as though I was missing something as we walked, her arm hooked around mine - I swear, the woman has some sort of Induce Manners Area Effect Ability - which crystallized into certainty and realization a moment after.
Then Maetel spotted an acquaintance of ours, which wasn't all that hard seeing as he was making like Batman in heading up to the Hidden Asteroid stand, and proposed we head over. Apparently, she'd made friends with his 'puppy' back when the Express had been pulling it into orbit and wanted to see how it was doing.
I begged off, then nudged my head to the side and watched. The only sign was a slight twitch around the eyes, and her expression never changed, but she nodded and made her way towards where Mr.Morden, or whatever he was calling himself here and now, was doing his thing.
Myself?
I used the attention she took with her as she went to fade back.
I'm good at fading back.
Back behind where most of the Fen stood, looking for all the world like nothing at all was wrong and I was perfectly meant to slip just past that barrier and slightly behind that stand.
"Katsu-dono."
"You mangle that on purpose," I groused, then blinked.
Okay.
No.
I was having a good day.
This was not going to ruin it.
Nope.
I wouldn't let it.
It was likely just another bit of random sneakery, maybe some minor trade - for some reason, they like me better than Scales when it comes to making deals. Maybe because I'm more of a recluse and not as profilic.
I would studiously ignore the fact that Maki was kneeling and doing the forehead-to-floor thing.
"The Village would request your assistance."
"I could likely cobble up another couple of gravs in a few weeks, and ..."
"Katsu-dono. The Village would request your assistance in the _other_ matter."
Damn.
Okay. Flashback time.
Remember when I said that, if it didn't have to do with force-fields or things going boom in a spectacular manner, I usually handed things off to someone else?
Yeah.
Sometimes, I mess around with random available parts and physical principles. One of those times involved a mess of coil springs and several charged capacitators, as well as a soild iron slug. I've since improved, most notably during my last bit of R&R which I spent mostly in the Village.
Discretion isn't just a word with them. I got my research done, they got to reap some of the results. It isn't talked about. At all.
Both sides - meaning myself and Trigon, who'd actually been decent about things for once in his life, as well as the Village - had agreed to close the case. Official record said I was shoving some grav kitbashes off on them, which I did actually do.
Now they were bringing it up.
It was a quarter of an hour later that Maki melted back into the background of the background, and I faded out into the crowd edges, pasting on a faintly amused look.
I leaned back against the stand, startling the Fan who was doing business on that end of it, and looked up to the Village's stand.
The Hidden Asteroid wanted to gear up, and had good reason to.
Losing three Little Sisters - or how they termed their light border patrols - with all hands, making that a total of around twenty Shinobi and Kunoichi. Literally. Losing. No trace of them where they'd been supposed to have gone through, nobody has seen anything, nada.
I'd seen the specs on those, too - they were personalized, yeah, but they were all built around roughly the same hull design of kitbashed aircraft parts. Good, solid, reliable designs, despite being reliant on goop rather than Solid State 'wavium.
And two of them had been carrying my coilguns.
I wondered about the conversation Morden was having.

-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

12-24-2006, 04:16 AM

Quote:
Okay, here's the post that Hunterminator and I were working on, done from his character's POV except for my character's Big Reaction at the end. KJ? Got instant messaging? E-mail?

killjoy_tseng@yahoo.com or mekilljoydammit on AIM

drakensis · 12-24-2006, 02:16 PM

"Mr. Morden," came a pleaseant greeting from behind me.
I turned and saw - "Katrina Steiner, as I live and breath," I declared. "Has that disreputable wretch Kakashi abandoned you again?"
She gave me that slightly sweet smile that was about 300 kilowatts less bright than the ones she gave 'Kakashi' (aka Katz, for whom I have great if well concealed respect despite his hair), conveying bemused chiding at the name I'd tagged her with and a recognition that I was being silly and she knew that I was being silly and I knew that she knew that I was being silly... and so on ad infinitium. But really, there she is, tall and blonde and wearing white - what else should I call her?
Well, apart from her actual name of course.
"And how are you treating the Saint Bernard?" she asked one a moment had passed to tell me that she would not be talking about Katz's current location or concerns. I made a point of checking over my shoulder in case he was standing behind me the whole time, before answering her question. Maetel had met the Saint Bernard when I arranged for the Galaxy Express 999 to make an unsheduled stop in Arizona to lift the converted C-97 out of the gravity well. I'm not entirely sure at why she took an interest, but then I've heard things about Maetel's origins that I only half-believe even coming from Fen.
"She's doing very well," I assured the blonde. "Still not too happy getting close to a planet though, so she's marking some territory a few thousand miles out from Mars. Still spins her propellors for you anytime we spot the Express in passing - bad case of puppy love?"
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

12-26-2006, 05:17 AM

Russian roulette with handwavium
I straightened up from where I'd been repotting one of my latest experiments, hands going to my lower back as I tried to stretch out the stiffness. Everything looked good so far; unless something totally off-the-wall showed up, I'd soon have a new cash crop plant to sell to the Martian terraformers. They'd loved the Mars-hardy cotton that I'd worked up - everybody needed clothes, and t-shirts were such a fan staple that cotton fabric was always in big demand. Now we didn't need to rely on the 'danes for it. I was looking forward to seeing their reaction to 'cool,' my wool/cotton hybrid: wool fibers grown in bolls like cotton - no sheep needed. And Lachesis would be happy, too. I'd gotten a good price for the cotton, as well as a discount on whatever I bought for myself, and I should be able to wrangle the same for this. She'd love having wool to play with in her weaving.
The pot went back into the chamber for Martian-tolerant seedlings, and I hooked up the monitor clip to one leaf. Another leaf got the music clip, and I chuckled softly to myself. I could have made a fortune if I'd sold THIS idea. Most biomodded plants seemed to respond to music; my opinion was that people had so gotten used to the idea that plants responded to music that it had become a dominant meme...and handwavium seemed to respond awfully well to memes. To thought in general, to be honest, but give it a good meme and it really took off. I'd guess that at least eighty percent of all plant mods responded to music at some level or another...and the actual number might be even higher. This could drive you crazy if you had to listen for too long. On the other hand...plants don't have ears; they just sense the vibrations. And the clip I had didn't play the music audibly. Hooked up to a stem or leaf, it relayed the vibrations of the music directly into the plant, no air-driven transmissions needed. This was highly useful for maintaining one's sanity, and a necessity for my mining plants - no air means no music, unless you used something like this. Since I'd recently started to sell mining plants to fen who wanted to try their hand at asteroid mining but who weren't sure about the whole mining concept, I'd gone ahead and posted the specs for the clips to the Net. Might as well do my bit for preserving people's sanity - what little we fen had, at least.
"All right, Clotho. Everything's set. Have you found anything specific for this batch, yet?" I sealed the door to the chamber, and watched the outside gauges as it set the interior conditions to the current ones for Mars.
Clotho's cheerful soprano came from the speaker nearest me. "Nothing yet. They respond somewhat to 'Dixie', but nowhere near as well as the actual cotton did. Ready for me to try the brute force approach, and run the library?"
I shook my head. "Not quite yet. Try Lehrer's 'I Wanna Go Back to Dixie' first, then....hmm...maybe the Baarmy Sheep of the Lake District. If neither of those work, then run the library, concentrating on anything sheep or cotton related first. I know there should be at least a few things, between the filk and Lachesis' weaving songs. Hell, they might even like the Hooligans. Try that one as well."
"Will do. Off for lunch?"
Nodding, I was already stripping off my gloves and headed for the door. "Yeah. Time to get a bite to eat. Let me know if anything unusual shows up, or if we hit a good match, music-wise." I smiled at her affirmative, and headed to the kitchen. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I pulled out the stir-fry I'd made the day before and sat down at the table to eat. "Hey, Lachesis? Anything going on?"
She answered as I took my first bite. "I'm finishing up the latest bit of weaving I'm doing, and the drones are going through the living areas for the daily cleaning. Atropos just brought in the latest harvest from the asteroid. We've nearly got a full bin now - worth cashing in, I'd say, lad. And a good time, as well. There's a new email for the Nation - Fate says that someone's called Convention."
My eyebrows went up, and I hastily swallowed the last bite I'd taken. "Convention? Wonder what's up.....? Tell Fate I'll be forward as soon as I finish lunch." From the nearest speaker came, "Aye, will do." With that, she went silent and I went back to eating - a bit more hurriedly than I might otherwise, since this sounded interesting. Putting my dishes into the dishwasher and starting it up, I headed forward to see what was going on.
As I entered the cockpit, Fate's voice rang out, in a HORRIBLE Japanese accent. Have you ever heard a Greek chorus try this? It shouldn't be missed, that's for sure. "Kevin! Come see! Much bad Engrish here, ah so!" I snorted and sat down in front of the monitor. "That bad, is it? All right....hit me." The screen flashed on, and as I read over the message, I groaned. Great ghu, how had this bunch gotten ahold of an alpha version of the original Babelfish program...and why in the world had they inflicted it on some poor innocent computer? I dashed off a quick reply to let them know that the Jason would be attending, then sat back and brooded for a bit...long enough to catch Fate's attention, anyway.
"Something on your mind, Kevin? About Convention?"
I sighed, and nodded. "Not quite directly...but yeah. That decision I've been putting off. I...think it might be time to try it." I'd been feeling my age, lately. I know I'm not that old in years - just into my forties - but as the old saw went, it's not the years, it's the mileage. Diabetes. Congestive heart failure. High blood pressure, high cholesterol. The start of arthritis. My weight, and all the problems that came with it, including the sleep apnea. Lowering the gravity a little had helped, but...it just kept adding up, and things weren't as much fun as they used to be. A year or two ago, I'd be really looking forward to Convention. Now...I still wanted to go, but it was more a chore than a joy. And given the implications of the excitement a month or so back...well, being exhausted most of the time might not be a healthy idea. I'd been hoping the researchers in the 'danelaw might've been able to come up with a perfected version before I needed to do it, but that wasn't looking likely. Time to play Russian roulette.
Fate spoke softly, "If you're sure....Clotho says the Tree has a few ripe apples." I nodded quietly. "Tell the others, would you? I'll probably need a large tarp as well. I've got some idea how this might affect me, and no sense making a mess. I'll talk to you all back in the living quarters, after I've gotten the apple." She was quiet as I left the cockpit, and both Lachesis and Clotho were silent as well as I went for the Garden.
Every good Garden should have a Tree in it, right? Mine was no exception. A small apple tree stood in what I knew to be one corner of the Garden, though the illusion made it look as if it were near an outcropping of stone. I checked and found one that looked ripe, then picked it and headed back to the kitchen. Sitting down at the table again, I plunked the apple down before me, and stared at it for a few minutes. It was pretty enough: a pale golden skin, almost like a Golden Delicious, though rounder than one of those. The faintest hint of an actual metallic golden gleam would clue most into the fact that the apple wasn't ordinary, however - that, and the dark imperfections on the skin. They were small, but definitely there, and I kicked my subconscious. It had been going non-stop when I'd been working on this idea, and the handwavium had latched onto the idea like a drowning man might a liferaft. Small black Greek letters were quite visible against the gold, spelling out Kallisti. All in all, it was quite an appropriate bundle for an agent of chaos, and that's what it was. Laced through the fruit was enough biomod-ready handwavium to induce a modification in a person. All you had to do was eat it...and take your chances.
Lachesis broke the silence. "So, lad....are you going to go through with it, then?" She sounded rather subdued. After Clotho, she was the most upbeat of the remaining Sisters, so she probably wasn't happy.
I breathed a sigh, and nodded. "I think so. I've been waiting a long time for something more controlled, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon. And...I'm tired. I feel so OLD all the time now, and I want a change. I want to be healthy again, to have something actually resembling energy. I mean, I get by OK, but..." I shrugged, "...it's time. Might as well do it now. With luck, the changes won't be too severe, and if it works, I can actually enjoy Convention. If not...we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Worst case....you girls go to see Fred or Megan. They'll take care of you." That drew what sounded like a muffled sob from the speaker - Clotho - and her voice was trembling as she spoke, "Dad...."
Lachesis spoke up again, "It won't come to that, Da." I shrugged again. "I certainly HOPE not, but best to consider the possibility." Atropos added her two cents at that. "Forget the possibility. I REFUSE to clip your thread, Father. Go through with this if you want - but you WILL get through it." Her voice sounded tight, grim. Ah, my girls. Most of the time we didn't dwell on the relationship, but they were the closest thing that I'd probably ever have to children. Fate sang softly through the speakers. "Do what you have to do, Father, if it's what you wish. Come back to us renewed." I swallowed hard at that, and nodded. "I plan to. Go ahead and plot a slow course in to Phobos, Fate, and start us on our way. Get us there just at Convention time; I'll probably need a bit of time to get used to whatever this does." I could hear the faintest of hums in the background as the drive came online, and Fate answered. "We're on our way, Father. I'll work on the course as we go." I nodded, and then got up from the table.
One of Lachesis' mobiles had brought a large tarp in, and I spread it out. I weigh a lot, and if this worked anything like I wanted it to, the extra mass had to go somewhere. I wasn't sure what would happen, but I might as well prepare for a mess. I could easily envision likely scenarios, and a tarp would take care of some of them. I stripped down all the way, putting my glasses on the kitchen table, then took the apple back to the tarp and sat down in the middle of it. "Wish me luck, girls." They all chimed in for best wishes, though they certainly didn't sound happy. Too worried for that, at least for now. I took a deep breath, and started in on the apple. It didn't take too long to finish off. There wasn't a core, since I hadn't planned on this variety to reproduce that way...and removing it gave me a chance to pack even more handwavium into the fruit. I settled back, stretching out...and felt myself start to fall asleep immediately. I knew that, whatever might happen next, I probably wouldn't want to be awake for it...and I'd designed the apple with a natural sedative effect. Hopefully, by the time I woke up, everything should be over. One way or another. Time to see just how good of a jason I really was.
------------------------------
For those of you who might be wondering about the term jason, check out Janet Kagan's Mirabile. It's a wonderful book, and a very good example of why you should beta-test your mad science before people have to rely on it. Short definition would be a geneticist/genetic engineer, but they often have to do a lot of fieldwork, and some of the organisms that they deal with are fairly...unique.

12-26-2006, 05:27 AM

All Sales Are Final...
The first thing I noticed as I started to wake up were the aches. I'd never had a hangover before, but from everything I'd read, this felt like what I'd imagined one would. Gods, even my hair hurt. The second thing that hit me - and it was strong enough, it practically WAS a blow to the skull - was the SMELL. Gods, what was that horrible stench? Raw meat and blood and....I shuddered, making a gurgling noise deep in my throat. I moved a little, and felt something thick and slimy squelch underneath me. Whatever it was, I appeared to be sleeping in it. And wearing it. Bleah! Then....I started to remember what I'd done before I went to sleep. Apple. Gods. Ok....I now had an idea of what I was sleeping in. At least I HAD woken up. That was a good start.
It's not exactly easy to speak without opening your lips, but I certainly tried. I sure as hell didn't want any of the slime I felt covering me INSIDE my mouth. "Um....Lach'sis? Towel?" I held up a hand, eyes closed, and felt a towel placed in it. Wiping my mouth clean, I started in on the rest of my head. "Um....Lachesis? Do I want to open my eyes and find out why I'm now a high tenor instead of a baritone?"
Lachesis chuckled softly. "Probably not, lad." Then she actually giggled. "Um....you remember that problem you had? How you said you felt so old?" I nodded slowly, still trying to get whatever the crap was off of my face and hair. "Ye-e-e-es....." More chuckling, and it sounded like Clotho joined her. "Well...you don't have that problem anymore....."
I actually groaned. "I chibified myself!? How badly....?" Lachesis hmmmed softly. "Well....at a guess, you're maybe four foot six, I'd say. And there are...other considerations, too." That got another groan. Goddess, what I had I done to myself? It couldn't be TOO horrible if they were relieved enough to laugh at the chibification, but still.....
I finally got my face clean enough to risk opening my eyes, and I grimaced at what I saw. I was sitting up in a large pile of....well, goo. And not a nice clean goo like handwavium, either. I was looking at a good hundred pounds or more of partly-liquified me - whatever was left after the handwavium used the rest of my excess mass to power the transformation. Looking down, I took stock. Beard was gone - I'd felt that as soon as I was cleaning my face. Arms look normal, legs as well...just covered with slime and smaller. I glanced at something stretched out by my leg. Tail.
I blinked, my mind trying to process that and hitting a read error. Tail?! I have to admit, the first thing I did was drop the towel into my lap and clap my hands to my head. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. OK. No furry ears on top of the head and - a bit more feeling around - the regular ones were where they should be and felt normal. NOT a catboy then, or an dog-hanyou or whatever....even if my sense of smell did seem to be turbocharged.
At this point, both Clotho and Lachesis were quietly giggling, and I definitely heard an amused snort from Atropos. "Uh....tail." The giggling increased. I reached out gingerly and prodded at it with my finger, and it twitched. OK, THAT felt weird. Another poke, and I felt it move and wrap around my wrist. Um...prehensile...I blinked, and groaned. "Oh no....." More giggling from the peanut gallery. I took the tip of the tail between my thumb and forefinger, and started to squeeze. Gently at first, then a bit more pressure until....I yelped and let go - QUICKLY - and shuddered. Damn, almost like a kick to the nuts, combined with...weakness? Like I'd exercised until all my muscles were sore and I didn't want to move. OK. No squeezing. Squeezing was definitely of the bad. Unfortunately, this reaction mostly confirmed what my subconscious and the handwavium had agreed upon as a good template for not-old/healthy. "Oh, bloody hell."
The giggling broke directly into belly laughter. Even Atropos was laughing now, though she did try to sound serious as she spoke. "You always liked Dragonball, Kevin." I snorted. "Yes, to watch. Not to be a cast member. I don't even KNOW martial arts...." I picked up the towel and started wiping myself off again, trying to get as much of the gunk off as possible. "Gah. I need a bath, or the smell's gonna knock me out. Clotho....start up a storm in the Garden, please? I'll scrape as much off as I can here, then go wash the rest in there. With a bit of luck, it'll even count as a sacrifice, so I won't have to bleed for a bit. And....how long was I out?"
Lachesis answered, her own laughter quieting though she still sounded amused. "You were out for nearly a full day and a half. Longer than some of the biomods in the references, but...the changes for you are pretty dramatic." I nodded at that. I'd lost nearly a foot and a half of height, to begin with, as well as....I glanced at the goo as I got shakily to my feet to clean off the rest of my body. "I'm glad I put down the tarp. I wasn't sure if it'd go to this, but as much as I weighed...well..." I grimaced. "Lachesis? Once I head for the Garden, wrap this mess up in the tarp, and stash it in an empty slot in one of the lab freezers? I should probably take a look at it after I recover, just to figure out more of what happened."
"Sure thing, lad," she replied, and I hmmmed. "Anything happen while I was out? Or was I the only floor show?" Clotho spoke up, "Just you. Though when you started MELTING, it was more like a horror show. DON'T do that to us again, Dad!" I shuddered, and nodded. "No plans on it, lass....not like that, at any rate. Besides...." I looked myself over. Hard to estimate exactly, but maybe. "...it looks like I have another thirty years or so before I'm back to the age I was. I'd guess...twelve, thirteen tops. Though given that this is handwavium, I could be wrong. I just hope I'm only off by a year or two, and not by an order of magnitude or two...." That got another snort from Atropos. "Don't want to be young forever?" I snorted back, "Don't want to be a chibi forever. Eighteen or twenty wouldn't have been so bad, but this..." I sighed softly as I finally got clean enough to step off the tarp, though the drying slime on my skin made me shudder. Ick. I dropped the towel back onto the tarp to be gathered up and frozen with the goo.
Stepping away from the tarp proved to be problematic, however. I got one, maybe two steps away, and fell down. "What...?" I got up, tried walking again, and again met the floor face-first. Then I felt the tail brush against my back, and I put my hand over my eyes. "Wonderful. I should've remembered. Center of balance has changed - not just from the weight and size, but from the tail. This is going to be a pain." I climbed back to my feet and started for the Garden, moving slowly and taking time with each step. I was more than a little off-balance, but knowing the problem, I was at least able to stay upright. I'm sure I looked like a drunk as I went, though. This drew some more snickering from my ladies. Ah, yes, I was apparently the best entertainment in town at the moment.
Finally, I got to the door to the Garden. "Clotho? Once Lachesis has the tarp secured and freezing, ask her to leave another towel here by the door? I'll want to dry off." The reply of "Sure thing, Kev," let me know that things were settling back to normal. If they weren't calling me dad or father, they were feeling more secure. I took a deep breath - regretting it almost immediately as the smell hit my nose again - and headed into the Garden.
I was greeted by a crash of thunder and a hard spray of cool rain, as bright light flashed overhead. I moved off to a grassy area to one side of the path, and started to scrub the slime from my body. Glancing overhead, I grinned at the roiling grey stormclouds above, as another bolt of lightning flashed between two of them. A boom of thunder came from hidden speakers a few seconds later. Gods, but I loved the Garden. As much as I love space and cities...I grew up in the country. And a good summer thunderstorm wasn't to be missed. Letting the hard rain sluice me down, I started to scrub my hair. Hmm. Texture hasn't changed. Maybe I won't get the bedhead-from-hell look. Gods, I hope not. Though it could've been even worse. I could've gotten Gohan's mop-top. I snickered to myself. As one fanfic I enjoyed had put it: That wasn't a hairdo - it was a hair-don't.
Getting my hair to what I hoped was a clean state, I started on my face. As I scrubbed my hands over my skin, I glanced at the trees in the distance, and saw another bolt lash down to the ground. Then I blinked...and patted my hands on my nose for a second before letting out a loud whoop of joy. I'd SEEN that, clearly. Looking around, I noticed everything was sharp and clear. But....I'd never put my glasses on after waking up. They were still back on the table, where I'd left them before going to sleep. I got a huge shit-eating grin on my face. OK....maybe I could deal with being chibified. Being able to see clearly was a huge mark in the plus column as far as I was concerned, and if this had fixed my other problems as well...
I took a deep breath, and let it out, sobering a little even though the grin didn't die back completely. It wouldn't be all sunshine and roses. There were too many questions as to how far this change went and some fairly big potential downsides. For one thing, I was going to have to be careful in here until I knew this body better, because the Garden DID show stars at night...and the Moon. I wasn't worried about being a giant were-monkey; handwavium could do things that looked damned miraculous but as far as I knew, even it couldn't create mass. But....I hrmed softly to myself. I suppose it could transform me into one that was around my current size. I'd read about some biomods that involved shapechanging, so it was a possibility. A mindless rage was another - breaking brain chemistry would be even easier than shapechanging. I groaned softly. OK. Have to arrange some sort of straitjacket or restraints and test it. I wasn't going to go around being afraid to look at the Moon ever again, not without a reason to be. I was glad that my last creations were close to being done, so that I didn't have to do much monitoring at the moment. Because it looked as though I was going to be my next test subject.

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