Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Staging Area 11 - 06:52
Weaving his way among the general chaos, Zben Blaine moves quickly through one of the personnel locks to board the Elissa. Slung over his shoulder is a large duffle bag made, it appears, of balistic cloth. Attached to it is a soft case about 1.2 meters long, but only about .1 meters across. Following obediently behind him is a regulation storage locker, running on small wheels. Upon entering he consults his pocket computer for his cabin assignment, and heads in that general direction. After getting lost twice he finally finds his quarters, ushers in the locker, and quickly unpacks. Everything neatly stored, including several boxes from the locker that `slosh' slightly, he opens up a channel to the computer:
"PATER: Zben Blaine reporting. Could you direct me to the communications center so that I can familiarize myself. Also, is there a communications officer on watch yet? Or are you handling all traffic?"
_Welcome aboard mister Blaine._ PATER's voice is soothingly familiar, dispite the new ship wrapped around it. _I am currently handling all ship-to-shore traffic, which is minimal. There is no communications oh oh dee at the moment. The communications center is on the bridge. Take the grav-lift outside your door down one level to deck four, then proceed directly north. The compartment at the end of the corridor is the bridge._
"Thanks PATER. I'm scheduled to be on duty at oh eight hundred, so I'll be there by then."
_Also, the communcations service bay is on deck three, but accessable only from the grav-lift on deck four, just aft of the bridge. It does not need to be manned under normal circumstances. The yard crews have done adequate jobs of upgrading the monitor and control subsystems throughout the ship for my use._
"Understood. I think I'll just stop by there on my way to the bridge, though. I'd rather see the place BEFORE the crisis occurs!" Hastily, he adds, "Nothing against you PATER, but I feel better if I know what the equipment I'm running looks like. It's an old habit of mine." With that Zben heads for the bridge, by way of the commo bay.
_Of course, mister Blaine._ comes the unruffled reply. _Mind your head. The service bay is large, but very tightly packed._
As the organized chaos around the Elissa continues its steady progress, a towering figure emerges from the compound and steadily paces towards the Elissa, a "smart" cargo-lifter bearing two large armored trunks trailing in his wake. The figure continues his journey and rapidly resolves into the looming figure of Akhouw. He is seemingly unconcerned by the sharply cold air, as his apparent clothing is limited to a modest cowl decorated with embroidered gold yoyeaokhtef, although the hood is drawn over his head.
He approaches Merkle, Grey, and Bishop with a firm pace, looking like a very imposing monk who is ever ready to show one of his brethren the error their ways. A quick survey indicates that the crew is proceeding at their tasks with suitable efficiency, so Akhouw wisely refrains from needless interference. As he passes, he greets the trio of men with a voice that rises above the hubub and wafts amidst the staging area. "Honorable morning, Loadmaster Merkle, Mister Grey..." He looks at Bishop with an indecipherable expression. "...Mister Bishop." He eyes the bulky parkas that seem to be in fashion with idle amusement. Didn't they know about heatsuits? Far more comfortable in such frigid weather... He continues his journey and disappears into the Elissa through the nearest entryway.
Rafe makes his way down to his cabin, noting the general aura of age and misuse that permeates the ship (rather like a comfortable but badly scuffed leather shoe), and dumps his duffel on the bed. He begins pulling out assorted items of clothing and electronic gadgetry. At one point, he takes a small box with two fan-shaped antennae on the front and runs it carefully over the walls, ceiling and floor of the room, climbing over furniture as necessary. He lets his handcomp assemble a projection based on the portable densitometer's readings and studies it for later comparison to the "official" plans of the ship.
Having finished his sweep of the room, he goes over to the terminal controls. "Computer, is Security Chief Lester Farouk aboard yet?"
_Not yet, Mister Awntremont._
"Fine. Voicemail to Chief Farouk: Sir, this is Rafe Awntremont. I'm reporting as directed and am available for briefing at your convenience. End voicemail. Voicemail to Alliara Niigurd: This is Rafe Awntremont, Contact Team backup linguist. I would be interested in meeting you and the other members of the Contact Team later today. End voicemail. If anyone asks, I'm not busy at the moment and would be glad to talk to them. Warm this room to 30 degrees, 75% humidity. Thank you."
Hmm, no privacy lights on the doors, he thinks. He takes a sheet of paper from his duffel, scrawls the words "NO PRIVACY" on one side and "PRIVACY on the other, and affixes it to the outside of his cabin door, "NO PRIVACY" showing.
As the room begins to warm to a semi-comfortable temperature, Rafe strips off the two layers of heavy low-tech Arctic gear he's wearing over his (heated) tailored vacc suit and puts them away. After unpacking and putting away the contents of his duffel (a fair amount of gadgetry and a medium-sized wardrobe), he settles down on his bed and directs his attention to the computer console.
"Computer, do you have a designated name? What is it?"
_Affirmative, mister Awntremont. My name is PATER, although I am reasonably certain mister Niigurd would inform you otherwise._
"Right. PATER, has a policy been set on personal sidearms yet?"
_At present, there is no fixed policy._ replies PATER. _Based on the previous mission, I would expect mister Farouk to require all personal firearms, with the possible exception of snub pistols, to be secured in the armoury, until required and issued by security. The final decision will remain with him and the Captain._
"Hmmm. Please give me stock wall visuals of an underwater view above the continental shelf on a T-normal world, if you can. Also, designate a set of preferences 'non-privacy mode': let anyone come in without knocking, automatically switch room environments to the best possible compromise between the room's occupants' known preferences, and immediately present me with any incoming voicemail messages or general announcements. Designate another set of preferences 'privacy mode': don't open the door for anyone without a flaming good reason and warn me before you do, keep the room on my preferred environment unless I designate otherwise, and defer all non-urgent messages and announcements, with only a light on the computer console to indicate messages waiting, and no unnecessary audio intrusions. Right now I want non-privacy mode. Thank you."
Rafe changes out of his vacc suit into more comfortable shipboard garb, with a scene of pre-industrial hunters chasing down three-antlered chamois-like quadrupeds in a jagged pass stitched across front and back. He relaxes on his bed and contemplates sundry things for about an hour and a half.
Munro sits at her office terminal. Jabbing a button, she commences speaking.
"PATER please voice mail the following to Merkle, Grey, Hur'Shurvan, MacLaeran, haut-Freider, Doejin, and Silvmane. The message is.... 'Greetings sophants! This is Yolanda Munro, Chief Engineer. If you would please assemble in the Engineering department at eleven hundred hours, we can have a get-aquainted get-together session. Hope to see you there.' End voice mail."
"PATER - please put a special ending on Merkle's message. The message is 'Merkle - understand you'll probably be busy with Load Master duties during the get-aquainted session in engineering. Hope to meet you later. ' End voice mail."
_Done, Mister Munro._
She leans back in the chair, stretching like a cat until joints crack.
"Also, please post the duty roster for engineering. A shift is Munro who is designated EOW, Merkle and Doejin. B shift is Hur'Shurvan who is designated EOW and MacLaeran. C shift is haut-Frieder who is designated EOW, Grey and Silvmane. Send this specifically to each of the engineering crew, post it to the general information pool and make sure Command gets a copy."
_Done. Voice mail from Morgan Grey:_ The voice changes to a slightly compressed version of a middle-aged man's slightly nasal tenor. "Grey, aye aye. Looking forward to meeting you, sir...ma'am...whatever." _End of message._
She pauses, toying with her hand comp. "Next, I need a list of crew members not currently assigned to engineering that have ADVANCED or better skills in Engineering, Computer, Electronics, Mechanics and Gravitics. Put the list under ~munro/specialists."
_Done._
Munro straightens, smacking herself on the forehead. "PATER - if you aren't already, please start a diagnostic sequence on engineering. The captain hasn't said when we're lifting off, so I'm assuming we have some time. Put the result in the file ~engineering/diagnostics. Also, when you run across an anomaly during your monitoring I want you to put the results in the file ~engineering/tasks. If something requires immediate attention, contact the appropriate person."
_Captain Bhyarrvouf ran a diagnostic during the manual Grid inspection last night,_ PATER responds. _There are no anomalies in Engineering of Levels One through Three in seriousness, but there are two Level Four faults in the Number Two Tokamak and five faults of Levels Six through Nine in the Maneuver Drive, Jump Drive, and Fuel Processors. Nothing requires immediate attention, but the Captain has asked that you attend to the Level Four problems before liftoff and the others before Jump.__
Rubbing her eyes and pushing a stray bit of hair back into place, she mutters "Time for a Vargr nap." Standing up, she takes off a data head set and the hand comp strapped to her forearm, setting both carefully on the desk.
"One more thing PATER, please give me a wake-up call at 0945 hours. Blast me out of bed if you have to, but get me up."
_As you wish, Mister Munro. Sleep well._
Leaning on the desk she jabs the button into the off position and heads for the beckoning comforts of bed, visions of jump drives dancing in her head.
Once inside, Akhouw withdraws a small map-box from an inside pocket. It unfolds at his touch and a detailed map of the Elissa glows into being on the flatscreen. After a moment's study, the box silently folds into a slim book and is returned to the pocket. He paces off and a few minutes later arrives at his quarters, unloads the lifter, and dismisses it. One trunk is opened, revealing a full Aslan noble wardrobe and various personal accessories, which are stowed away in short order. The second trunk Akhouw opens with respect and care. A massive set of combat armor is slowly lifted out and installed in the closet, shortly accompanied by a well-cared for laser rifle and power pack.
Pausing for a moment, he stares into the trunk with nearly reverential awe before he reaches inside. Piece by piece, item by item, Akhouw constructs his Shrine of Honor in one corner of his cabin. Holos of past Khaukheairl heroes, scrolls that tell the tale of their valiant deeds, several small tapestries of battle scenes, and antique weapons (a fierah and an akhaeh) are arrayed in precise and respectful detail before Akhouw adds his personal touches. A wicked, razor-sharp tooth from an ayakyuir; a gold chain, from which hangs the holo insignia of an Intendant in the Honor Fleet of the Khaukheairl Space Navy; a scroll of ancient Aslan history, given to him by his mentor, Woktoihoil; a holo of his brother, Khea'uh; and an expensive leather-bound briefing book. He kneels for a moment before the Shrine, then rises with an air of purpose. He discards his simple robe for the uniformed finery he is accustomed to while shipboard, then exits the cabin and heads for the bridge.
The hatch to the Bridge opens. Akhouw looks in, expectantly, and smiles at the empty scene before him. Good. The traditions could be upheld, and *this* mission begun on a promising note. He steps down to the command chair and carefully arranges his bulk, legs crossed beneath him and hands resting on his knees. Akhouw closes his eyes and sinks deep into silent meditation.
Its Early, Far too early.
A Turnskaad delivery Grav Van drives up to the loading dock of the Elissa. A tall lanky youth gets out and looks around, and calls out to anyone nearby.
"I've got a delivery here for the Elissa, I need a signature..."
Boris' head whirls like that of a hunter's hound responding to his master's call, "Right over here, Mister." Merkle scribbles across the pad and turns to see a 4 ton crate being off-loaded at the rear, by automatic mechanisms. The crate is marked with a small universal flammable symbol in one corner and an ubiquious this end up. Anyone who looks at the paper reads. '1 Crate, 4Tons, no special handling, N. Ger for shipment Elissa 007-1120 0630 hours'.
"Some travel and light, and there are those...." Merkle scratches and shakes his head with an indulgent smile...
"PATER - Voicemail Admiral Count Ger; Greetings Sir. May I inquire as to the nature of the contents of your personal luggage? I was wondering if the universal flammable tag was a decorative touch from the past, or if it was current?"
Double checking against his handcomp, and a quick survey of the cargo hold and the yard, Merkle recognizes a brief lull in traffic. He heads inside to check for mail, and to track down a cup of hot coffee.
Grey still stamping around, trying to warm himself, no more than a dozen steps away from Bishop when a small, shiney black sphere, about 30 cm. in diameter and festooned with imaging sensors, purposefully floats by him towards the ship, causing him to almost jump out of his skin. After it passes, Grey notices that several other identical spheres, some almost invisible in the distance, are drifting over the surface of the Elissa, as if inspecting the hull.
Grey turns around and sees Bishop standing by himself, staring up at the hull of the ship.
"Hey, Adrian!" yells Grey. Bishop stops and turns. "Are those things yours?" Grey jerks a thumb towards the receding sphere.
"Yes, they are." comes the reply in the chill air.
"I though you had personally order them around or they'd run into walls or something." offers Grey, a puzzled look on his face.
"I *am* personally ordering them around, Morgan," responds Bishop. Then he turns away once again and continues to gaze at the hull.
"....oh." Grey gulps.
A smallish woman, wearing a faded blue ship-suit, pulling a luggage trolly approaches Staging Area 11 and the parked Ellisa. Stopping before the lock she sits on the trolly for a few moments and surveys the ship.
"Yes, dear members of the audience and their pets, we are gathered here to celebrate the passing on of yet another intrepid crew, composed of a number of races and of at least two sexes. And the Word shall say `Va-itzu be kaas, u be kaas kakh ilchu, ve yagiu el ha makom asher nikra Hor, ve sham ya'avdu et elohei ha-sheol, u misham teze raatam ve kakh yovadu!' and no one will care. Kakh!"
She stands up, kicks the ramp and stamps up to the lock.
"Pater, recognize Alliara Niigurd, Science, Contact subspecialization. Open the blasted door, box of knobs, and direct me to cabin six by two. Start ventilation in the room --- I want a forest glade scent in it, if the ventillation is at all capable of such exotica. Pipe to the local terminal any books about SCUBA gear and SCUBA diving. Flag the names of any crew members that can teach SCUBA diving."
_Welcome aboard, Mister Niigurd,_ PATER replies imperturbably. _I assume it is unnecessary to re-inform you of the pointlessness of insulting me._
"That's right PUTTER, I have no intentions whatever, of ceasing to insult you --- but if you prefer me to choose a new modus operandi, please be informed that I like to target-practice with a crossbow."
_Verbal insults are quite sufficient, Mister Niigurd. Any physical threat would require my defending myself, a prospect you would find unpleasant._
"Ah, my nice electronic box, you will have me clean your innards with a toothbrush? Is that defence? Good idea. In any case, I have no intentions of firing anything into you, you are still useful, if only to point me at the nearest Gin dispensary."
After the directions to the cabin, PATER continues: _There is one qualified SCUBA instructor, although without certification by external authority, aboard the Elissa: Adrian Bishop. A reading list of instructional texts on the history and practice of underwater exploration by air-breathers is now available for your perusal._
"Also, leave a voice mail to Major Farouk. Start of text: `Mister Farouk. This is Alliara Niigurd of the Science Team. I must appologize for falling out of contact with you. Please leave me a message as soon as the crew is setteled in or, better yet, meet me in the crew lounge this time "next day." Alliara out."
_Done._
Entering the lock, Alliara scans the corridor and heads for the turbo... errr.... lift.
"Gah! Too many years on this jallopy. HEY! PUTTER! What is the maintenance record on this thing? Major faults? Are there any Morse using robots in the hold somewhere?"
_The Elissa has only been overdue for annual maintainance twice in her term of service, both times due to schedule disruptions. There are no systems faults of Level Three or worse at this time; several minor areas with faults of Level Four or better are to be seen to by Engineering before liftoff. No robot aboard has the instruction set for Morse Code at this time._
Alliara pushes the trolly into the lift, and follows it in. Shaking her head slightly, she presses the button labelled `6' and waits for the lift to move. With majestic languidity, the lift moves up, something metallic clicking beyond the left wall.
The lift stops and the doors open to reveal a wall of doors behind and before Alliara. Pulling the trolly after her, she heads for the door at the left end of the cell block.
"Ah yes. WHY DO I HAVE TO VOLUNTEER! Can you tell me that, PUTTER? I want a sky. I want a breath of air. And I am going to look for a hole in space. Why not a hole in the ground. PUTTER, can you tell me the difference between a hole in space and a hole in the ground? Is this difference important? Why? Do you have any Gin? I prefer Regina Dry. Oh, yes. Send a piece of mail to Adrian Bishop. Say I want to train in SCUBA in the pool, since Doejin is a water user... I brought my own SCUBA junk. Bought it. Do you think I am so talkitive because I am nervous? I don't like ships, and this one is old. What about that fault list, eh? The hell with it, I am not unpacking yet..."
_I assume that you are rambling for the sake of your own amusement, and that your questions are rhetorical ones,_ PATER replies easily. _However, if you do desire answers for your queries: 1. It is likely that you volunteered for this mission out of a combination of loyalty to Doejin, curiosity as to the nature of the hole in space, a desire to avoid boredom, and a lingering need to heap abuse upon me. 2. The question is obviously intended for dramatic effect, and answers are metaphorical and pointless. 3. Gin is available in the Mess; it is a particularly expensive brand from Magyar Sector, selected by the Captain for the journey. 4. Mail to Bishop has been sent, per your request. 5. I do think you are talkative because you are nervous. 6. A starship is not considered "old" in popular parlance until it passes its eightieth birthday, and the Elissa is only 51.5 years old._
She kicks the trolly under the bed. "Blasted SCUBA junk! PATTER! You there? I am going back down to frighten the newbies. Blasted youngsters!"
_Have fun, Mister Niigurd._
"Close and lock the bloody door behind me and DO TRY to ventilate this room with some forest glade smells. You know what I mean - no skunks or rotting carasses, only smell of pine and wind and mushrooms and berries and all that edible drek. IF YOU PLEASE! Set the humidity slightly lower than normal, temprature in the mid twenties."
_Environmental systems activated._
"Now, ummmm... lesseee, Mess. Yes, this ship is a mess.... Where's the mess? PUTTER, please direct me to the mess."
Following PATER's most kind and useful and prompt instructions, Alliara goes to the mess and pours herself a large (VERY) large mug of tea... then spills it into the nearest garbage disposal.
Putting the now empty mug at the drink dispenser, Alliara says: "Mess Computer. Alliara Niigurd tab, start of transaction. I wants me a wee bit o'Gin, and a good one at that, ice, lemon, hold tonic. Double portion. Pour into the provided container."
_As you wish, Mister Niigurd,_ PATER's voice comes from the mess slot. The mug fills with ice, a dab of lemon juice, and then several deciliters of pale-blue liquid that smells like juniper berries and almond.
Blowing lightly on her `tea' and glancing suspiciously around, she returns to the lifts and rides back down to the Staging Area.
She stomps down the ramp, looks at the people slowly assembling below or going into the ship and says loudly - "Such a nice day to find a hole in space and go into it! Not an inimical alien in sight! Not a ship too cranky! Not a danger too great! Oh well, might as well drink my tea..."
Sitting on a convenient crate and tucking her feet under her, Alliara surveys the surroundings, softly whistling something that lacks melody.
The gin has a kick like a mule, and does a good job of keeping Alliara warm.
The dorm room is now clean and empty, except for a small borrowed cargo dolly piled with a few large containers: a pair of overstuffed duffel bags, a small overnight case with a locking zipper, several metal instrument cases, an odd-shaped plastic box that looks like it may contain a musical instrument of some sort... and a huge metal and fiberplast steamer trunk, large enough to be a coffin for an Aslan. The case stands on end, open as if to allow someone to walk inside.
Standing in the room, looking at himself in the full-length mirror, is a Vargr in an outlandish costume. It appears to be a cannibalized suit of armor, made up of an old Combat Environment Suit with the torso plating, hip protectors, boots, joint guards and shoulder plates of a set of Combat Armor sewn on. It is a uniform that is one of the most famous in the Trailing Extents, and it has struck terror into the hearts of perhaps more people than the black turbans and robes of SORAG or the jackboots and armbands of the Nazi SS. It is the uniform of a warrior of the Kharaengzough, the Warriors of the Long Reach, the most hated and feared Corsairs in the Antares Extents until their sudden dissolution two years ago. The arms of this particular armor set, however, are not conventional gauntlets; they gleam and whirr with the suppressed power of cybernetics, and are riddled with instruments and tiny mechanisms. Anyone in the Alcyon's old crew would recognize them immediately, even if the face of the Corsair is invisible behind the fire-red HUD.
The Corsair raises its fists to its own reflection, in a gesture of arrogance, defiance and power. The fists clench.
*spung* Huge, lethal claws erupt from the backs of the hands. *spung* They vanish again.
For a long moment, all is still. Then, slowly, the armored hands reach up, and disconnect the vacuum seal with a hiss. Off comes the helmet, revealing a familiar black-and-white face and sad blue eyes.
Carefully, unhurriedly, the Corsair strips off the armor and carefully stores it in the case, piece by piece, until at last he stands almost naked in the center of the room, wearing only the cybergloves.
He forces the container shut, locks it, and manhandles it off of the dolly and into the corner of the room, then dresses once more in the familiar black and grey Bokhutokh Star Lines Captain's uniform, strapping on his old pepperbox pistol at his hip. He puts on his data monocular last, and keys on the earbug commo.
"Central Storage? This is Bhya-- CAPTAIN Bhyarrvouf, in Room 1147. I'm on my way out, thanks for your hospitality. No, really, you were very kind, and I *am* sorry about that hole in the window; I've docked Mister Awntremont's pay to cover it.... Listen, one more thing. I have a locked crate up here in my room. Would you please store it in the Vault until I get back? ....No, no, not too long. A few weeks to a few months, I guess. How long? A year? Oh, I imagine I'll be back before that.... If not, well," he shrugs, "Have it shipped to the Imperial Museum on Warinir, postage due. There'll be a holocrystal inside that explains what it is; they'll be GLAD to reimburse you, I promise. Okay? Thanks."
He turns to leave, pulling the dolly behind him, then stops. For a long time, he stares at his armored hands, then slowly, deliberately, takes off the gauntlets and carries them over to the armor-case.
He opens the case, puts the gauntlets inside, and gives them a final pat before re-locking the case. For a bare instant, he leans against its comforting bulk.
"Goodbye, my friends," he whispers.
Bridge 07:50
Zben Blaine strides from his quarters toward the Communications Service Bay. Going first up one lift, then down another, he takes careful note of the conditions aboard Elissa, noting wear and general age in every station. Entering the Service Bay, he runs a careful eye over all visible surfaces and equipment, especially waveguides and inspection panels. He runs a quick scan of the system diagrams, posted on a clear bulkhead, and makes notes of any hand written corrections or repairs. Assuming he finds nothing too far off key, he then buttons up the bay, and takes the lift back to the bridge level. Entering the bridge at 0758, the first thing he notices is Akhouw, seated at Command, seemingly asleep or meditating. Remembering the old adage to "Let sleeping Aslans' lie", he sketches a quick salute, sets himself down and the commo station and reconfigures it to his specs. He notes a full diagnosis running, and rather than interfere with it, starts making note of all the rider ships to be attached, their various com and data needs, and sets up a configuration program to accomodate them.
One hour to the second after Akhouw begins his meditation, his eyes snap open and he stands, his gaze making a full sweep of the bridge. His rumbling voice breaks the stillness. "Hrrm... PATER, please send the following voice mail to Captain Bhyarrvouf. 'With your permission, sir, I would like to call a meeting of all Bridge officers and Department Heads at, hrr, 1400 hours. Akhouw out.'"
_Done, sir._ Akhouw notes that Zben Blaine has entered the Bridge while he was in meditation, and has smoothly begun a Commo systems check. Other Bridge systems are coming on line already, and the diagnostics he was about to request are running smoothly.
Akhouw relaxes back into the chair, awaiting the response. "PATER, activate all bridge systems and run full diagnostics, then place all systems on standby. Please summarize test results when complete."
Turnskaad Quarters - 08:01
The door signal in Bhyarrvouf's quarters chimes softly. The door monitor shows Christian standing in front of the door, wearing a plain blue overcoat that he has wrapped tightly against the cold. "You there, aenrra?" He seems to be in quite an effervescent mood.
_I'm sorry,_ the door says politely. _Mister Bhyarrvouf has checked out, and this room is now vacant and awaiting maid service. Have a nice day._
Christian raises an eyebrow, but his bright mood does not abate in the slightest. Just once, he thinks, I'd like to run into a door that's depressed... "Ah well, no matter." he says, to no one in particular, as he walks away from the door and out into the residential compound. He looks around for a moment, as if searching for.... Ah yes, over in that direction. He marches off in the direction of the staging areas at a quick pace.
A short time later, Christian arrives at the small pad where the Aurora is quietly resting. As he approaches, the ventral airlock opens and a short gangway extends, enabling Christian to walk up and into the ship without missing a beat. Emerging onto the lower deck, Christian takes a few steps forward to the grav-lift and heads upstairs. Mere moments later, Christian enters the bridge and looks around like a proud father returning home. "Hello, Moira, how's my favorite cyber- babe doing on this cold morning?"
_Hello, Christian. I am operating within normal parameters. Welcome aboard._
"Fantastic. Okay, Moira, get the cold start sequence going and run down the preflight checklist, would you? I'll be down in the speeder bay. It's great weather to do a little writing..."
_Initiating._ A brief glance around, lingering for a second on the empty co-pilot couch, before Christian darts back out of the bridge and heads aft, arriving at the small vehicle bay. Lovingly, he looks at his speeder and runs a fingertip along its smooth bow. He smiles. Walking over to a nearby equipment locker, he rummages around inside for a few minutes. "Now where did I put that.... Ah. Here it is..."
A grav vehicle coasts in to the staging area. On board are two figures in vacc suits.
The larger of the two gets out almost before the vehicle sets down. As the vehicle idles down, he grabs a large foot locker (one of several) from the open back.
He stomps once or twice and against the cold and approaches the boarding ramp to the Elissa.
"Pater! This is Colonel Jonson, security division. Please direct me to the armoury or what serves as an armory on this vessel."
_Welcome aboard, Colonel Jonson. Do you wish to leave your personal effects in your cabin before reporting to the Armory? You have been assigned Cabin eighteen on Deck three. If not, I can guide you to the Armory._
"Zat's ok, thanks... but I want to stow this locker of weapons FIRST! I'll get my personal effects from the G vehicle in a minnit!"
"Also, please let the my department head know I've reported aboard."
_Major Farouk is not yet on board. I will notify him when he arrives._
"Thanks again, Pater!"
Thul then rushes off following the instructions to the armoury to stow the foot locker he is carrying.
In a little while, he emerges from the Elissa, returns to the grav vehicle and gets his other two foot lockers and slings a "seabag" over his sholder.. He says his goodbyes to the driver, signs a few papers and with a wave, he heads back to the Elissa, one footlocker on each shoulder and bounds up the boarding ramp.
He heads for his cabin, and once there throws open the seabag and starts removing its contents. Several moments later, with all the clothing either hung up in the or stowed in drawers, he checks the locks on the footlockers and heads back to the armory.
Once there, he thinks for a moment and... "Pater! Please append a voice mail message to Farouk and let him know that I'm in the armoury doing inventory on what's already in here. I am awaiting further orders.
_Done._
One more thing, can you bring up a screen that shows me what is SUPPOSED to be in this armory already?"
_Done. See Monitor A._
Merkle sets the huge coffee mug down on his desk.
"PATER, I believe I've seen a few of our security team come aboard. If any of them are at loose ends, please Voicemail them that loading is going along nicely, and any time they want to do a few security sweeps, they're welcome. It's pretty crowded down here right now and I'd like to ensure that no stowaways or explosives or whatnot, are slipped by me."
At loose ends...sounds like me all right, Rafe thinks. Pulling a few things from the shelves, he downloads the ship's deck plans into his hand computer and map box, then heads for the Armory, taking his gauss pistol and a spare clip of dose-controlled tranqs, as well as a slightly battered-looking laser rifle with the power pack disconnected for storage.
On finding the Armory occupied only by Thul, who's hard at work fieldstripping some weapons, he nods. "Morning," he says. "I'm Rafe Awntremont. You would be...?"
"Thul Jonson. I'd shake but my hands are greasy."
Staging Area 11 - 08:30
Across the staging area, a small, fast-moving shape flits between the crates and vehicles: an incredibly rusty, battered old "Min" gravbike, hauling a cargo dolly behind it. The dolly was obviously not designed to be towed at high speed, and is flipping over and back, making the Min fishtail and sideslip dangerously.
As the Min pulls into the loading area, the bolt holding the dolly to the Min pops loose and the dolly flies headlong into the bullet trap, falling to the ground with a dull *thud*. Oblivious to the loss of luggage, the gravbike heels over into a screaming curve, and does two laps around the Elissa at high speed before pancaking to a landing by the hatchway.
Doctor Sir Bhyarrvouf Karavorre BaHaThagk-Kabra, Captain of the Elissa, vaults from the saddle, tossing the Min's keys to Boris Merkle. "Better just walk her up to Storage, Boris," he calls gaily. "She can get away from you if you try to ride her! HARF HEEYARF!" He walks over to the crashed dolly, retrieves his bags from it, gives its corpse a vindictive kick, and leaves it lying where it landed.
Boris snatches the flung keys with a deft flip of his left hand, snapping a ceremonius salute with the right, "Captain, Sir! A walk it will be."
And watches 'Vouf up into the hold, wondering if the Captain had ever worked in a circus before.....
He strides up the gangplank. "Keyaho, PATER! How're you feeling?"
_I am fully functional and ready for duty, Captain,_ PATER replies.
"Guezkhe! GUEZDHE! JUST what I wanted to hear," 'Vouf grins, charging down the halls to the CO's Quarters. "Anything to report that I need to know about?"
_Many crew have begun reporting already, and are settling into their accomodations and acquainting themselves with the ship,_ PATER says. _The bullet trap for the shooting range will be loaded shortly, and the heavier gear and vehicles are ready for stowage._
"Guezkhe," 'Vouf says, kicking open the door to the Captain's cabin and tossing his gear onto the bed. Quickly he begins to unpack, and in a few minutes the room looks almost exactly like his old cabin on the Alcyon. "Tell Lazer I'll run my popguns down to the Armory for storage later today."
_And your armor as well?_
"Nope, didn't bring it with me this time," 'Vouf laughs. "No need for it, not any more. I'm a Captain again, of a kakh good ship, and by the Great Pack I intend to ENJOY IT!" He straightens his uniform, pops open the plastic case still on the bed, and sets up his shivangha on its stand in the corner. "Now then, to business! Where's Munro?"
_Chief Engineer Munro is asleep in her cabin. She has asked to be awakened at 0945, and has called an Engineering Division meeting for 1100._
"Good bitch," 'Vouf nods, putting up a poster near his bed. "And Yorblin?"
_Chief Medical Officer Yorblin is in Sickbay, preparing for a Medical Division meeting at 1100._
'Vouf sticks another poster to the wall by the desk. "Great! Farouk?"
_Security Chief Farouk has not yet boarded._
"Hrf. Well, it's early yet." 'Vouf pulls a small flat photo from his bag, mounted in a metal frame, and looks at it for a moment before putting it on his desk. "What about Morser?"
_Science Chief Morser also has not yet boarded._
"Well, he hasn't gotten much sleep lately... If he isn't here by 1000, PATER, place a call to his room for me. He's got a busy day ahead with the legal types. If he isn't here by, say, noon, tag Werner to serve in his place until he arrives, eh-hrf? Ditto Lazer and Thul for Security. Kae, I almost forgot: Munro was the first crewman aboard, eh-hrf?"
_No, sir. Adrian Bishop was first aboard; he has been here since yesterday._
"O-HO," 'Vouf grins. "Memo: I have to slug him sometime before we lift off. One must observe the customs, after all!"
_Very good, sir. Should I inform Medical to expect Mister Bishop?_
"Nah, I don't think he'll need to see a doctor. I'm not going to hit him THAT hard. After all, this isn't Gvurrdon." 'Vouf flicks on the All-Call, takes a deep breath, and speaks with a tone of measured command quite unlike his usual carefree bark.
<< Attention all hands, attention. Captain on board. I will be available to answer any and all questions from now until 1800, when I fully expect us to be in final preflight check. Division Heads, meeting in my office at 1200. 'Vouf out. >>
He strides out of the cabin and up to the Bridge.
As the all hands message blares throughout the Elissa, Munro lifts her head, trying to focus on the chronometer by her bed. "Humf. PATER - Rescheduale wake up call for 1030 hours. Give me a 1145 reminder for the staff meeting. Munro out."
Munro buries her head in the pillow. It is unknown if she really woke up at all.
Staging Area 11 - 08:31
A 'Turnskaad' marked air/raft drives up to the staging area at low altitude. After making a complete circle around the Elissa, seemingly looking for the correct place to park, it sets down on a more or less correct place and Johann Abuko jumps out, obviously in a hurry.
"Don't move it" he calls to the closest dock hand "I'll be back to get my things soon." and sets off towards the airlock, his eyes locked on the Elissas bulk, muttering something about "trader" and "fossil".
Seemingly preoccupied with something he hardly notices any old or new shipmates when he enters the ship and hurries though the corridors stopping now and then to look on a map on his hand computer.
"Pater!" Johann starts immediately when he enters the ship. "Do you still have the old operational logs from the 'Alcyon' expedition? You see, I up with this idea in my head that I have to try out."
"I'm interested in any records from the time period during the first jump to R-alpha colloquially referred to as 'The Engineering Party', especially security logs and energy usage patterns. I know I don't have access to them so call up whoever can release them and ask them, Vouf should be able to do that."
_Captain Bhyarrvouf told me to expect such a request from you, Doctor Abuko,_ PATER responds. _The records have been cleared and are waiting for your use._
"Efficient little mongrel, I'll give him that. By the way, tell him I've arrived."
_Done._
A few minutes past 8.30 a medium-sized human male dressed in a neutral Scout-type Vacc Suit and pushing a loader with several pieces of luggage approaches the launch pad. He pauses for a moment to view the scene and then enters the ship.
"PATER? Are you there?"
_Yes, I am here, mister Edmondsen._ comes the well modulated reply. _Welcome aboard._
"Good! Nice to fly with you again," Rigo smiles. "Where do I report? The Major here yet?"
_Please stow your personal cargo in your cabin. Number three dash nine has been assigned to you. Beyond that, I have not current orders for you. Mister Farouk has not yet reported aboard. Executive officer Akhouw is currently on the bridge with mister Blaine, and the Captain has just reported aboard._
"Thanks, PATER. Inform me when the Major arrives. Talk to you later."
As Rigo leaves the airlock and proceeds to his cabin a slight frown creases his face. He dumps his luggage on the bunk and turns to the intercom.
"Bridge? Chi... I mean, security guard Edmondsen here. Come aboard, Sir. Any orders?"
_Mister Edmondsen,_ PATER says to Rigo, _Mister Berana is attempting to contact other Security staffers and adress courses of action prior to the arrival of Major Farouk. Colonel Jonson is in the Armory as of now, and Mister Awntremont is also available for discussion in his room._
Zben breaks in to say "Be with you in a moment or two, Rigo. The other Security are gathering at the Armory."
A few minutes later:
"Hi Rigo! The big gun isn't here, yet... All other department heads are calling for meetings between 1100 and 1500 hours. Assuming Farouk shows soon I'd guess the same." He pauses, reading a note from Merkle. "Uhh, I just got a note from the Loadmaster asking if any security might be available to check over incoming load for nasties. That's all I have at the moment..."
"Hello, Mister Blaine. I'm on my way down to the armoury to meet with the other security personel. We'll send someone down to help Merkle. Also, I noted that there is noone guarding the entrance. Should we post a guard? And finally, there's one thing I'd like to know right now. What is the policy with regards to personal weapons? And is it the same for all of us?"
"Good Question. I haven't been able to raise Farouk yet [I'm assuming this is about the time he's getting his ticket...], so don't consider these official, but based on past proceedures I'd say an armed guard at the entrance is a good idea. As to personal weapons, I'll have to ask the Captain when he shows. Sorry."
Tarmine Berana arrives with a couple of bags on a grav pallet. He's in a black tailored vacc suit, with the heat turned way up.
Entering the airlock, Tar says:
"PATER, Tar Berana coming aboard. May I have my cabin assignment please."
_Welcome aboard, Mister Berana. Your cabin is Number three dash five. Take the fore gravlift to Deck three, and your cabin will be to the left as you exit the lift._
Tar heads to his cabin, looks arround, and lugs his bags to a corner off the room.
"PATER, is the Security Chief aboard yet? if he isn't would you ask the Captain, if he wants someone down in Securty?"
Tar then starts pulling things out of his bags and onto the floor.
_Major Farouk is not yet aboard. Mister Edmondsen is making similar requests. Shall I connect the two of you?_
Tar considers, and says, "Yes please do, if it does not inconveniance him."
_Mister Edmondsen,_ PATER says to Rigo, _Mister Berana is attempting to contact other Security staffers and adress courses of action prior to the arrival of Major Farouk. Colonel Jonson is in the Armory as of now, and Mister Awntremont is also available for discussion in his room._
"Thanks, PATER. Put me through to Berana."
Whatever task they were performing, they appeared to be finished. With ballet-precision, the four AGNIS units floating over the Elissa form up into a neat, diamond formation and slowly float in the open cargo bay door, past Merkle, and directly over to an open cargo pod where Adrian Bishop waits. Without a sound, each drone slowly settles into a hemispherical cradle and powers down. As the last one shuts off, Bishop quickly pops a data crystal out of each unit, pockets the collection, and then slowly slides the heavy cargo pod door shut.
Johann arrives at the airlock and exits the ship. He comes in time to see all the AGNIS-es collect themselves.
"Hello Bishop! Starting out with more AGNIS'es this time? I know it is a little late, but we might find out who poured beer in your old one soon."
"Beer?", a puzzled look crosses Bishop's face. "I don't remember any..." His features go slack for a second, then abruptly re-animate. "Oh, yes. *That* beer. That would be nice, Johann."
As he latches the pod cover, Bishop adds, "Actually, I've got one more in my cabin. That one, plus these four," he gestures at the pod door, "were all on the last trip as well. I originally had seven, but only two ever got used. The first one was... well..." for the first time in three weeks, Abuko notes a look of... discomfort... on Bishop's face, "...permanently disabled. 'Vouf still has the second one. I'm going to be much more careful with these. I don't think the INN is very likely to provide me with anymore of them."
Having secured the pod, Bishop walks over to Merkle, and gestures towards the pod.
"Move it if you have to, Boris," says Bishop, "but make sure it's arranged so I can still open it after we're on our way, OK?" Then, he turns and heads for the forward gravlift, and the interior of the ship.
Johann introduces himself to Merkle.
"Johann Abuko, I'm the... I'm the computer and sensor expert onboard."
Merkle flashes another big toothy grin, and extends his gloved hand. "Boris Merkle...glad to meet you. So far I'm the 'lift that box, tote that bale' expert," chuckling, "but once we're underway, I expect you find me clanking around the holds somewhere!"
"Anything special to check in?"
"Four boxes with armaments, but I'll put them in the armory, the rest is electronics and such."
"Ya know Mister Abuko, I figured it'd the members of the Science Team who would bring every manner of luggable junk at the last minute. And usually that means headaches for me...", Merkle adopts a whining voice and stereo- -typical hunched scientist posture," ... be careful with that XYZ sensor, it's very delicate! Don't drop the Exo-thingamjiggy or I'll have to spend a bazillion hours recalibrating...".
"Most of what I need I can find in the workshops onboard, paid for by Turnskaad, so my largest post is ten kilo of holocrystals."
"But so far, you folks are some of the lightest travellers in the crew. Oddly enough it's the Command Team that seems to be infatuated with vehicles, large bulky items," shrugging toward the bullet-trap, "..and gadgety stuff. I'm almost disappointed!"
"Have anybody brought aboard a wrecked robot, possibly only a brain, in a locked and sealed box?"
"Nothing has been said if something like that has been brought aboard. If you'd like to leave the details with me, I can look into it....?"
_If I may intrude, Doctor Abuko,_ PATER says, _The box to which you refer to has not been released yet by the Grand Jury. Legal action is in progress that will allow the box to be delivered to the Elissa before liftoff, but it may not be concluded until very near departure, if at all._
"By the way, if anybody is going towards the admin building they can take that airraft as soon as I've unloaded it, it belongs to Turnskaad so anybody can take it as long as they leave it at the vehicle pool.
"Plenty of 'Skaad flunkies around...I'll recruit someone...."
"Thanks, I'll just unload."
Johann walks down to the airraft and start transferring bags and boxes from it to a small cargo cart. Notable items are four green boxes marked with 'interstellarms', one of which has an 'explosive' sign on it, and a curious 30x40x60 cm. metal box that is attached to a vaccsuit backpack. It seems to be rocking erratically even when it lies on it's own.
Staging Area 11 - 08:42
Arriving in a fully restored antique ground car, a style of vehicle once known as a "Pony Car", a short Aslan steps out of the pilots seat goes around to the rear and removes a number of crystaline steal containers. Another Aslan gets out of the passenger side and helps remove and cart the containers to Elissa returns to the ground car and leaves. The short Aslan proceed to request permission to board. "Hryawi to Elissa OOD. Request permission to board and berthing assignment."
_Welcome aboard, mister Hryawi._ a voice comes from the speaker. _Permission granted. Your cabin is three dash fifteen. Please proceed up the grav-lift to deck three. Your cabin will be to your left and behind you, as you face the bow._
Hryawi packs her things in her cabin in a neat and orderly fashion. Taking the ancient map of the ship, she proceeds to the science offices station to report for duty and ask what her specific duty assignment is going to be. The non-crystalline steel containers go with her.
Copyright © 1997, 1998 |
|