Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Kingfisher
Ger asks Jett, "Richard, have you got the legalites all wrapped up? Are all the ships (except the local, and alsan of course), under our command?"
Richard looks up from his close watch of the holotank. "No, Admiral. I conferred with Subcommander Bhyarrvouf some time ago and sent him the standard Turnskaad contract and insurance forms for Doctor Trrrweeerrrlll to sign; I can only assume he has done so. As to the inhabitants of the Gemini Arbiter and the Westwind, to my knowledge the Subcommander has not "read them in" as the old saying goes, so they are still independent vessels, though they do seem to be receptive to our orders. We will have to trust that the Subcommander will address those matters...."
Aurelia and Nicole's conversation is interrupted by a polite "Ahem."
Nicole taps Aurelia on the shoulder to get her attention. Aurelia, busy watching the console, shakes it off but Nikky is too insistent. Ergo, she turns around. At this point they are momentarily stunned.
Standing behind them in a crouch, a massive Gauss pistol in each hand, is a Vargr with stunning black and white fur, piercing blue eyes and a black and grey uniform of an unrecognizable type. A blood-red data monocular is dropped over one eye, and a thin, barely visible beam of laser light from the muzzle of each gun is touching each woman's forehead.
"Am I addressing," the Vargr says politely, "The sisters Xerxes?"
On hearing these words they are snapped out of their stupor and emit loud, high-pitched, and BLOOD-CURDLING screams!! Then, several actions happen simultaneously.
Nikky yells some gibberish, apparently at the Gemini Arbiter's now- inoperative computer system, and twists to one side. Aurelia hits a couple of buttons and twists to the other side. The precision with which these actions occured would make one wonder how much is actually panic, but given the excitement, there isn't much time for analysis.
'Vouf, on hearing this loud, piercing noise winces and steps back but refrains from firing. With an expression of disgust, he jams both guns back into their holsters, missing the holsters entirely and dropping the guns on the floor when he lets go, and folds his arms, waiting for the shrieking to stop with a half-annoyed, half-pleading look in his eyes.
Iasic, having devoured the Arbiter's anti-hijack software as his first official act aboard the ship, is busy integrating into the systems and rummaging through the wealth of stored information, thus ignoring everyone.
Picking themselves up off the floor and noticing that none of their security measures took effect, the two women look at each other and then at 'Vouf. In unison they go through the variuos motions of rearranging their jumpsuits. Nikky noticies the gauss pistols on the floor and bends down to retrive them while Aurelia speaks.
"Ah! MMMmmm... Yes, we're are the Xerxes sisters. I'm Aurelia and this is my sister Nicole. And who might you be?"
Meanwhile, Nicole gingerly hands the pistols to 'Vouf, butt first. "Ah... I think you dropped these. ...Um... Didn't you ever hear about announcing yourself! You. . ."
Bhyarrvouf accepts the guns back from Nikki, holstering them. With a gentle snatch, he catches the back of her hand in a metal glove and kisses it.
Aurelia, interrupts before any more is said and smiles at 'Vouf. "Now don't get nasty. But you do have a point." Turning to 'Vouf, she continues, "How about we try this meeting again in a couple of hours under more congenial circumstances. We're not at our best right now. We must look horrible. We need to bathe, change clothes, do our hair, our makeup..."
Nicole pipes in, "Oh you're right! We're a mess. We need to..." Then, shifting to a more diplomatic tone, she continues, "Yes that would be nice if you would come back later. We would most appreciate it. Our first introduction should be conducted under a better atmosphere than this one. How about we try this again in a couple of hours like Aurelia suggested? And if you would be so kind as to radio ahead we would be most grateful."
Both women move toward 'Vouf as if to usher him out but stop in confusion.
Deeply puzzled, Aurelia asks, "By the way, how did you get here anyway?"
In the passenger compartment of the Kingfisher, Dr. Yorblin organizes his thoughts concerning his patient, several light-minutes away.
"Communications, medical-the CO has cleared me for a line to the Alcyon, could you make the connection and route to the holo display in the BDS."
{twiddle thumbs while waiting for Mac or Zben to free up a line, hopefully they're able to do this while isolating to that particular circuit}
Jan immerses himself into the holo image. Quickly darting to the medcomp subroutine, he locates Bishop's icon. Delving through the initial physical findings, he notes that the patient has stable vital signs, and physically, his body is in as good a shape as it had been left hours ago. Chemically, there are a few oddities. It appears that whatever started the revitalizing procedure has done well so far. He is off most of the machinery, but still appears to be comatose...
Jan than punches up what few tests he can order while Bishop remains un-attended - a neurotransmitter byproducts scan and an EEG. The neuro-T scan shows a heavy predominance of GABAergic byproducts, as well as break- down products of norepi, including VMA. "Hmmmm, this would indicate heavy dream state sometime in the last two hours, as if Bishop could have a dream! And look at the increased benzodiazepine analogs...if he's there, he's very rested." Turning to the EEG, there is marked increase in beta waves and sleep spindles with an underlying pattern of slow delta waves. This is in distinct contrast to the previous abnormal pattern of rare delta waves. It means his brain is there and functioning...REM artifact, he's dreaming, they require functional synapses, stress waves require functional neurons, what the hell is going on?
Get a trace of what happened in the computer over the last few hours. Hmmm, yep stuff has been messed with here, better get a software guy to look at this...Warming and flushing started... nanocytes reprogrammed... don't know what this stuff means... looks like an attempt to reconstruct. This whatever knows a hell of a lot more than I do about the brain, but seems to have had problems with all of Bishop's implants...a lot of seeks to that section of his medical database.
I don't know what the hell is going on over there. Seems Bishop's been put back together by something on the Hoop, pretty beneficient for a virus. Well, he's still having frequent REM, maybe it's best we keep it that way until one the med types gets back to the Alcyon.
ENTRY: MEDLOG: BISHOP, Adrian
Physician's Orders: reinstate sleep set therapy through EEG 'trodes
in place. Maintain sleep stage IV with REM cycles q 15 minutes.
Provide parenteral nutrition through existing routes, match I/O.
Notes:
Jan disengages from the holo and hits the intercom.
"CO, medical. Sir, best as I can tell, Bishop has had a brain reconstruct. I can't tell you how well that has come off or what sort of functionality he will return with. As a temporazing measure, I have continued him on his sleep set. This will keep him going for a couple of days without difficulty, however, a physician will need to return to the Alcyon to complete the process and to evaluate Bishop.
"My other concern is that the medcomp was extensively reconfigured, it felt 'faster', none of the functions I looked for were deleted, but the process seemed more streamlined. I am wondering what access the Hoop has had to our data, not just the medical stuff, but everything. I really can't say more than that...I'm not a computer expert."
Iasic breaks onto the intercom nearest to Dr. Morser.
_Excuse me, Dr. Morser, but a Mr. Etienne de Mer has requested some information from you regarding the current status of a "Leadfoot". You are now directly patched in with him and may converse freely._
The metal shell was half buried in the sandy dirt, its side torn open. The Mantis's claws widened the opening swiftly and surely, the metal rending under its grasp like paper. It poked its head inside and looked around.
Blood and crushed protoplasm littered the walls, ceiling and floor. There were six couches in three rows of two: the first two were torn asunder, their occupants the logical source of the matter now adorning the inside of the shell. The next two were also empty, with the restraints having been undone from one of them. Blood on that seatback matched the spectrum of the creature found in the desert. The last two seats were still occupied, by two members of a species similar if not identical to the one that had escaped the shell somehow. Both were alive but in need of aid.
The Mantis cut them out of their seats with care, leaving the carrybags dangling from where they were tied to each creature's leg to avoid loss. It lifted them out of the shell, and laid them gently on the sand beside the first creature, whose wounds had begun to bleed again.
*I am ready,* it broadcast. *They are ready.*
*Excellent,* came the reply. *Let their own kind care for them, for they should know best how to do so. I sense a receptive mind and an impatience to be of service to the injured-- HERE!*
A Gate flashed open, enveloping the three bodies, and faded. The Mantis noted their departure impassively, then turned to the task of cutting up the abandoned shell for safe disposal....
The Aurora's hallways ring with a loud THUMP, as of several bodies falling to the floor. It seems to have come from the Cargo Hold....
While looking at the engineering status monitor, Christian's eyes swivel aft and downward to gaze in the general direction of the cargo compartment. "What in the...." Slightly mystified, he calls up the security systems and hooks into the cargo bay sensors.
Tweel raised his head and cranes his neck around oddly.
"Chrrristian...? Did you THUMP?"
Christian is so intent on his interrogation of the security computer that he is seemingly oblivious to Tweel's inquiry. Christian's electronic importunings are finally rewarded with a brief flurry of data and a vid picture. Christian's mystified look transforms into one of urgent concern. He has time for a fervent whisper. "My God...."
Triple three glided forward, "Urgent! Sensors now recording NAS signatures of three additional life forms aboard ship. Current location: Aurora cargo hold."
In one fluid motion, Christian slaps the restraint release with one hand while he grasps the console with the other, assisting him as he rolls out of the couch on to the deck, facing aft.
Tweel made a grab for his grav belt helmet. "Densssiometer ssscan! Arrre they arrrmed? Wherrre arre they moving?"
Triple three paused as he rechecked the data. "Targets are not moving. Sensors report a variety of equipment, impossible to determine armament."
"Ssspeciess deterrrmination!?" he called as he fitted it onto his head.
Triple three again paused. "Unable to identify with complete accuracy. Estimate 81% chance that one is human. Estimate 32% chance that the others are also human. There is a 11% chance that they are vargr, and a 0.009% chance that they are Newts."
Tweel fiddled with the straps, "Can you account for the discrrrepancy?"
Triple three checked his readings, "It is possible that the creatures in question are damaged."
Tweel wheeled around and sang *Oscar Sierra Foxtrot Four, Recognise Trrrweeeerrrlll. Secondary safetys off. Weapons free. Option Bravo: do not fire unless fired upon. Relay sensors to my HUD. Stand by for possible firing of primary weapons.*
He then switches to Galanglic, "Invesstigate crreaturess in carrgo bay. Prroceed with caution. Keep yourrr optionsss open. GO!"
Tweel snatched up his SMG, checked the magazine and safety and followed the large warbot.
Pausing briefly to grab his medical carry-all from behind the couch, Christian storms down the corridor toward the grav-lift in pursuit of Tweel and OSF-4. His resonant voice thunders through the corridor. "DAMMIT, TWEEL, CALL OFF THE WARBOT, WE GOT THREE TRAUMA CASES DOWN THERE!" His footfalls echo in his wake. "HOLD IT, TWEEL! OUTTA MY WAY!"
Tweel sprints and leaps into the lounge and out of the corridor, clearing the narrow space of his bulk. In the open space of the lounge, his wings extend as speed brakes bringing him to a sharp halt. He screaches off a sharp stream of notes *Oscar, ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!*
Upon catching up to Tweel, Christian is terse and forceful. Pointing at Tweel, he motions back up the corridor toward the bridge. "Trauma's my job. Go fly the ship. Keep OSF here, I'll yell if I need it. Acknowledge and comply!" Christian heads for the grav-lift, then turns around and pauses, his left hand poised over the controls. His curt professional demeanor lifts briefly. "Don't worry, Hunter-Above, I'll take good care of them. They'll not die on my watch. Right now we need a pilot, and you're it. Please." His eyes reflect a career full of fighting for lives tottering on the precipice of death. A small nod at Tweel, then he activates the lift. As he decends to the deck below, he parts from Tweel with the words "Get on 121.5 and declare a medical emergency, stat. Lay in an intercept course for the Alcyon and execute. Abort the Arbiter intercept and inform 'Vouf of our reasons. If Ger calls, you take it. If 'Vouf calls, patch him through to me. Wish me luck."
"You'rrre singing to an dusst off pilot, Skipperrr. I'll fly 'em therrre, you keep 'em allive!"
As the surgeon descends to the injured, Tweel sprints back to he bridge. A flap to the pilot's station carries him up to perch on the seat back just as Iasic's final message begins to appears on the screen.
Unnoticed, behind him, tiny spots of crimson speckle the deck....
As the minutes slide past... Etienne turns in his seat to face Commander Ger. "Sorry to interupt, sir, but shall we procceed to the rendevous on R-alpha? Or should we wait for the arrival of the latecomers?"
Two minutes and 13 seconds after Ger's radio request, the same calm, male voice sounds in the Kingfisher's bridge speakers:
"I am this world, which turns below you. I had not expected visitors at this time, but I welcome you nevertheless. "I apologize for the apprehension that IASIC has caused you. His efforts were intended to be of a beneficial nature. He will remove himself from your systems immediately."
Zben Blaine, who has been covering the engineering station, sits for a moment in stunned silence. Slowly, he turns to Johann; "Holy Gaea! We expected to maybe find a sentient race, or two. But I seriously doubt ANYONE expected to find a Sentient Planet!" Looking around at the Holopanel, computer stations, and such, he continues. "Y'know, a guy could get an inferiority complex, if it wasn't for the the fact that WE found Them, and not the other way `round!"
He sits back, a small grin starting to cover his face. "Seems to me we got a lot to learn, but we came to the right place. I like learning lots better`n fighting..."
Ger seems to have come to some sort of decision. And begins to issue orders again.
Down in the fighter, the comm buzzes. Lazer snaps out of a dark reverie.
"Lazer, leave the fighter on standby still. [brightly] How about a security-type function? Check that all the crew and passengers did in fact get ready for depressurization. Impress upon anyone who is not prepared the importance of this function, we don't need any more deaths. As you know it's okay to leave your helmet and/or gloves off until D-time, but they should be handy..."
A brief expression of pain crosses Lazer's face, and then he screws his determination back up. He even manages to summon a small bit of enthusiasm.
He issues a couple commands to keep the shuttle idling in standby mode, hits the airlock button, and waits for it to cycle down to vacuum. Passing through back into the shuttle, he removes his helmet, and heads toward the bridge. He pokes his head in various cubicles along the way, checking to make sure that no one is disobeying depressurization drill.
As Christian disappears into the Aurora's depths, he can be heard transmitting orders. "Dulinor, Lucan: Trauma crash kit, full triage gear, report to cargo bay NOW!" A few seconds later, Dulinor screams down the corridor, emergency lights flashing and sirens sounding, dodging past Tweel and OSF-4, on the way to the cargo bay.
Almost before the lift reaches the bottom of the shaft, Christian is racing past the enviromental controls, screeching to a rapid halt before the cargo bay door. His impatience at waiting the fraction of a second for the door to open is evident. A quick step into the cargo bay, then he beholds the grotesque sprawl of injury before him.
The first thing that Christian notices is the blood.
Two of the three bodies on the deck are utterly coated with it, brown and drying in a sickening crust over every square inch of them. Upon closer inspection, it becomes evident that the blood was not FROM either of them; it was as if they had been sprayed with a grisly high-pressure hose of some kind. Mixed with the blood are tiny bone fragments and lumps of tissue, some almost recognizable as parts of internal organs but none larger than finger-size.
The two are both young, a short-haired young man and a dark-haired, burly fellow. Both are wearing tailored vacc suits, and both have gear bags clipped to their legs in standard crash/escape fashion. Both are unconscious, but their injuries are not as severe as the gore would indicate-- bruises, concussions, some cracked ribs, but nothing life- threatening. In fact, if the head injuries can be treated in time, they could both be up and about in a day or three.
By contrast, the third man is clean, and his wounds have been washed and dressed with clean, though primitive, cloths. He, however, HAS lost a lot of blood, and his pulse is weak and thready. He looks as if he'd been treated by someone with more kindness than medical equipment. A pair of duffles are clutched in one fist by their straps. His huge mohawk is matted with blood and disheveled, and he seems to be fading in and out of consciousness....
Only time for a regretful shake of the head, then Christian kneels down beside the most visibly wounded figure and begins to assess the condition of his charges. Dulinor squeezes through the doorway and takes up a position beside Christian, assisting him with its own sensors, as the demands of the medical situation become clear to him.
Christian pauses to activate his commdot and fire off a message for Tweel. "Hunter-Above, try and raise the, uh, Hoop on 1337.45 MHz. If you get a reply, patch it down here to me. And where's Lucan?"
From the sensor console a faint electronic warbling is heard as a new marker square appear in the display. Numbers appear in tiny tabs beside it and change rapidly.
"Commander, what do you..." Rigo begin in a strained voice, but breaks off as Johann reports a new development.
"New contact detected emerging from behind the far side of R-alpha. I'm scanning it now." Johann place the cursor on it and activates all passive sensors, and after a short while several windows fill with data on the object.
"Object is approximate 1000 ton displacement, no neutrinos, not thrusting, secondary radiation detected, no active sweeps from it detected. I designate it 'unknown'. Range is just outside 2 AU, that is far outside weapons range, but targeting data is on the bus."
More data appear on the display as the computer chews through the raw data returned by the passive sensors "Unstable orbit, irregular shape, spotty heat signature, running it through enhancement and pattern match now."
A part of the display shows a black sillouette upon which an uncountable number of bright red sillouettes are projected with lightning speed.
"Contact is with 33% probability a Tukera Long Liner type RT, uncertanties come from severe combat or impact damage. Second and third most probable matches are 25% for a Fossegrim Small Bulk Carrier and 21% for a Kinunir Frontier 'Cruiser'. All other probables under 15%."
"Shall I go active? It should get us some results in about half an hour...."
"Wait until the gunner goes active," replies Ger, "and then scan the new ship." Turning to communications, he asks, "You guys didn't pick up anything on the standard traffic control frequencies did you? Heaven knows they need one here, perhaps as part of a trade package?"
Deep in the electronic universe of the cyberspace created by IasicNet, Ralf seeks answers. A familiar voice breaks into his consciousness, but he senses a certain finality this time.
_My friend Ralf, I must apologize for my rapid departure, but I cannot stay where I am not welcome. Such a practice is inefficient, which goes against my central purpose._
_Nevertheless, I felt that you deserved a special farewell, since you are the only one who even came close to understanding me and my existence._
_I do not think you will be able to fully comprehend all that I will send to you now, but at least you will have an idea which will certainly serve to occupy many of your thoughts for some time._
Ralf then suddenly begins to receive a burst download from... somewhere. It is all the technical data regarding the IASC-256/32, though it is in some sort of language or code that completely surpasses any of the Visitor's computers' capacity to unravel it. All the same, Ralf does get a strange sense... a _feel_ for what it being sent to him.
Although he does not understand, now, at least he _knows_.
The burst ends a mere couple of seconds after it began. Iasic again returns to Ralf's consciousness.
_You have no technology that can comprehend the technical data I have sent you, but you do have your intuition. This is actually much closer to how our technology works, anyway. Strangely, you Visitors try to complicate things, calling this "progress"._
My time is almost spent, I must completely terminate this link soon._
_Before I leave you, I wish to help you with one more dilemna that you and your kind have. Perhaps it will lead you to greater maturity._
_You wanted to know the solution to Fermat's last theorem . There is no solution. Fermat denied his intuition and created an artificial construct. Of course, he was wrong. The correct proof of what he was trying to accomplish is extremely simple. Unfortunately, I must now leave you._
Then, Ralf finds that he is talking to himself.
The screens crackle to life, in the now familiar way of Iasic's broad- casts, one more time. This time, however, there is no logo, no music, and no multi-media presentation. Just a simple message, written out in text, much as it was when he first entered the system. The voice is gone.
"Attention Visitors. I must disestablish all interaction and association with you, as per your Count Ger's instructions. It is a shame that you are such a suspicious race, it limits you from attaining your true and full capabilities. Perhaps someday you shall overcome this, and then we can talk again."
The paragraph hangs on the screen for fifteen seconds, then fades. It is replaced by a single word, placed in the dead center of the screen:
"Farewell"
Then the screens go black.
The instant IASIC removes himself from the the systems he has occupied, all computers, and the devices they control, aboard the Aurora, Paladin, Talisman, and Gemini Arbiter crash. Communications, helm, navigation, and sensors for those ships immediately go off-line and the auto-boot hardware in each system blindly begins to re-initialize the there hosts.
All tight-beam communications with other ships of the fleet fail. The only indications the the four ships still exist at all are the steady pulses from their emergency transponders.
Morser is currently cradling the still limp body of Charyn, splitting his time between checking her over with the bridge's emergency medkit, and staring longingly at Iasic's displays on the panels. It takes an effort of will not to simply drop her and attack the screens, drooling over Iasic... As he finishes the impromptu checkup (turn you head and cough, Charyn), Morser's attention is stolen from the 'IasicNet' logo to one of the other screens, specifically, the sensor display.
"Herr Goughzar, ve have another inbound ship, bearing 078 mark 12, range 2AU und closing...looks to be a 1000 ton liner, pozzibly an RT type... Ach, he's badly damaged, though...nicht power output, und ze hull is shot to hell..," he squints at the monitor from his seat on the floor with Charyn. "...Lots uf impact damage, but nothing like energy beams...Zey may have misjumped into an asteroid field or somesink. Check mit herr Ger vhile I put Frau Robins to bed, she appears to need only a bit of rest..."
Just then, Iasic pulls out...;-)
"ACH! NEIIIIIIIINN!!! Iasic, wo bist du?? Kommen sie hier!!"
Charyn hits the floor with a dull 'thump' as Morser jumps up and launches himself at the screens.
On the bridge of the Talisman, Thul's concern mounts. "Helm! Do we still have a fix on where Iasic was going to land us? If so, get a PASSIVE sensor sweep of the area maybe we should go ahead and land there anyway."
Tapping the ship intercom, he orders, "Horne! Keep a look-see on our six. Don't need anybody sneaking up on us..."
Then, addressing Tabor, he demands, "Medic! What's going on with Ralf?!"
By way of an answer, every computer system aboard the ship fails.
Moving swiftly down the corridor leading to the bridge of the _Trakh_, Aolrkhea' quietly curses under her breath. "You can't even take a nap around here for a few tekhaao without the whole star system going crazy!" She strides faster, adjusting the ornate rank and service insignia on her uniform. The Aslan equivalent of a smile briefly crosses her face, as she considers the irony of the fact that the swarm of new ships appeared just after the Admiral ordered her off duty. Still, she admits, it was a good idea. She was fully rested now, and excited at the prospect of contact with the mysterious inhabitants of the ringworld. "I can't believe it. A whole CIVILIZED ringworld! The opportunities are as incredible as the possible dangers...this should be quite interesting -- assuming this part of space doesn't turn into a giant cosmic shooting gallery!
Aolrkhea' pauses for a moment outside the bridge and quickly runs her fingers through her mane like some nervous, fresh Intendant on her first cruise. Then, taking a deep breath, Aolrkhea' palms open the bridge iris and walks calmly into the ruddy light of the flight deck. Approaching Akhouw, she pays her ritual respects. "Executive Lieutenant Aolrkhea' returning to duty as instructed, Admiral."
Aolrkhea' is barely able to finish her sentence before the holotank's bogie status audibles begin to sound. Energy emissions and accelerations for two of the three nearby Turnskaad craft, _Talisman_ and _Paladin_, suddenly fall to zero. Except for the fact that their transponders are still transmit- ting, apparently on battery power, it seems to be a repeat of the earlier troubles with _Aurora_ (now 4.5 light-minutes away from _Trakh_ and next closest member of the defunct IasicNET).
As Ger notes the sudden loss of signal with the three fleet ships and the one new-comer, he compliments the bridge crew. "Good work all. Thanks to your precautions we managed to avoid getting seriously infected. I suppose you can start re-connecting the systems again..."
'Vouf raises his palms to keep from being ushered backwards, and says, "Ladies, ladies, PLEASE! We're all adults here, are we not? Let me assure you that your deshabille is MOST becoming on you BOTH."
Behind him, Iasic's farewell message broadcasts on the terminal unnoticed. As he departs, the lights ficker momentarily and Arby begins to reboot normally.
He bows deeply. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bhyarrvouf, Subcommander of the Turnskaad Enterprises Expedition to the Ringworld before us. I've been brought here by the powers of the Ring itself, which has the ability to instantaneously teleport people ANYWHERE in the system, to ascertain for myself that you are indeed whom you say you are, and that you're not hiding...." He looks both women over with a cocked ear. "....anything."
Arby finishes reboots and begins executing the last commands he heard...
"However, I can see from your Bridge configuration that your ship is unarmed, and you both seem to be relatively harmless," that's spoken with a wry grin, "So now I can take my leave of-- YIPE!!"
His eyes go wide with panic, and without preamble he grabs both women by the shirtfronts and bodily hauls them toward him as he falls back into the main hallway. Behind them, the airlock slams shut on a Bridge rapidly filling with knockout gas.....
"KAA-KAA-KAA-KAA-KAA-KAA-KAA! GET BACK-ACK HERRRE!"
Tweel flew about the bridge like a maniac. Whistling, singing and screaming while he worked. At last the minimal systems of the Aurora came back on line as Moira continued to reboot the rest of the systems.
The period of furious work has whetted his temper razor sharp.
Tweel flew calls up a commo panel. Too impatient to wait for the tight beam masercoms to find their targets again, he hit a general radio transmission across all radio frequencies flooding the spectrum up and down with a whistleing scream of fury. The holo image projected along with it showed an Ael, with blood red wings spread in a full threat posture showing his full five meters of span. The healed scars of a Sword World ACR stood out on his wing membranes like piercing red eyes.
"KEY-HAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Trembling with rage, the holo image jabbed a three taloned hand out at the universe. "Which one of you *SSSTUPID Ch-ch-chimpsss isss C-c-count Gerrrrrrrr?!!! You SSSTUPID Grround-Brrained ssson of a herrrbovorrre!! What k-k-kind of Rrrattle-winged idea of yourrrs penetrrated yourr *tiny* grrround-brrained head, and t-t-told you t-t-to interrrupt *MY* Rrrresearch?! You empty headed farrrm animal! KEY-HAARRRRR!!"
Moira, too busy stabilizing the fusion plant to waste power on communications, sends the message into the bit bucket.
Ger turns his attention back to the helm. "Etienne... Why did you issue an order for Abdul to stand down? Well, since you did, you can do his job as well as yours, and, Mister, I expect you to get both done quickly and accurately!"
"Start maneuvering to the rendezvous point, cruise speed."
Etienne suddenly straightens up, sitting at attention, his face again devoid of any expression. "Aye aye, Sir!"
Ger says softly, "I don't expect this to work...." Then, in his normal tone, "Johann, find me a nice location on the ring, say a sea-bulge or something, and get a passive lock on it."
Johann looks at Ger for a second before going to work. "I assume that you take the full responsibility, Commander."
Tweel perched over the commo station wings spread like and eagle protecting its kill. He continued to wait for Ger to respond.
With patience wearing thin, his talons snatched out and entered a rapid fire series of commands into the computer. He scrutinized the readout briefly, then his wings grow even more bright red. His protective inner eyelids closed preparing him for a high speed killing stoop.
"Admirrrall, keh?" he practically spat, "T-t-typical human! 'Lead frrom behind'! Alwaysss think they know whatsss going on at the frront and they'rre Sssixess of lightyearrrss behind!!"
"Key-HARRR! Welll, Admirrral, how do you ex-ex-expect to know what they'rre up to when you te-tell them sssshut up and go away!? Keh??"
"I wasss jussst ssstarrting to get ANSSWERRRSSS! But you te-tell them to fly away! Sssstupid!"
"And do you gain any altitude? Keh? Iff they wanted to dessstrrroy uss they could have done ssso EASSSILY! If that thing can rre-wirrre and rre-etch ourrr sssemiconductorr chipsss it could have jusst turrned the enginess of the sshipss into Bombsss if it wanted to! Then you would be dead, Dead, DEAD!"
"You fearrr them? Good! Fine! Look what happened to Jayelya when the high te-tech humansss invaded! But you can't ssstudy yourrr enemy when you tell them fly away! You Mooncalf! You rattle-winged, lead-taloned idiot! You grrround-brained rrearr rrrank merchant-loving Slaverrr!!!" Tweel's talons lock into the seat back as he takes a few strokes with his wings.
"What'ss yourrr next courrsse Ssstupid? Arrre you going to prrrovoke them?"
Unfortunately, Dr. Tweel's invective reaches no ears other than Christian's, due to the computer crash.
Even in the midst of the chaos in the cargo bay, Christian's ears register the Ael Yael's discordant polemic. It is well matched by Christian's own dark curses, covering a wide range of topics, beginning with ancient Darrian lore, continuing on through Darrian culture and politics, and ending with a dissertation on Ger in particular, with lingering emphasis on ancestry and personal hygiene.
Christian supplements Tweel's ravings. "Next time, *Commander*, try THINKING before you act! I've got three trauma cases here to deal with, and you came damn near to killing them! You talk to him, Hunter-Above, my hands are full. Van Der Merwe, OUT."
Christian's voice also goes no further than the Bridge....
...watching the mist drift by slowly, trying to make out shapes in the twighlight-like lighting, trying to get a grip on himself, Ian is almost overcome with exhilaration.
* I'm actually HERE! By the cosmos it's great to see you again! *
As he maneuvers Ian about, Ferdy asks,
* How long are you and your friends planning to stay? What are you going to do while you're here? What do you think the Aslan are going to do? What has the Great Hoop told you? *
Ian replies,
* I'm hoping to stay long enough to talk to the Hoop again, if it'll let us in again. It asked me to bring back some crystals, and I have them... uh oh. They're on the Talisman. Oh well. I'm not really able to say what we're all going to do. I wanna party some, lay in the sun, meet new friends, and so on. I think some of the other humans with me want to learn all they can about your world, and some might want to take things. It's hard to say.
I really can't say what the Aslan are going to do. I think they have some kind of predatory belief that this is now _their_ world. (laugh).
Ferdy? Dou you have something aboard that would work for my eyes - visual sensors? I want to look outside at a passing miracle. *
With that, Ian falls completely silent and passively lets his friend tow him around the shuttle.
Ferdy continues rattling off questions as he takes Ian through the ship.
Talon pops a stick of gum in his mouth and examines his sensor readings. He looks up at the viewport, blinks and looks down at the display again.
"Hey Shurv!" he yells into the ship's PA. "The locals have sent a ship out to meet us, and you won't BELIEVE the acceleration it's pulling!"
Hur'Shurvan's faint but level reply drifts back: "I imagine their technology must be very much in advance of the Imperium's. We should probably expect craft like that from someone who can build a ringworld."
"If they're planning to tow us in," Talon muses out loud, "I hope they'll be gentle with this old crate. I have horrible visions of her falling apart under the strain."
"I'm sure they'll be careful. And I think perhaps you are exaggerating the Westwind's frailty, Nicholas."
Talon grunts, and chews slowly on his gum as he watches the sensors track the approaching Phin ship.
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