Last updated on 1/21/98
Staging Area 11 - 08:45
Somewhere about 0845, the external vehicle bay hatch opens. Screaming out of the Aurora, Christian pulls the speeder into a sharp bank and flies in the direction of Staging Area 11. Although the same size as the ubiquitous four ton air/raft, the similarities with this covert speeder end there. The 007 is a beauty, with huge grav modules and a sleek dome/disk airframe configuration, and silky smooth handling. Selected to match Christian's present whimsical mood, the EMM is set to a pattern of alternating black and yellow stripes, making the speeder appear to be a slightly squashed bumblebee.
Christian keys the comm. "You with me, Moira?" _Affirmative_ is the efficient reply. _All systems at nominal operation. Flight program Codename Hello! ready to execute at your command, sir._ "Great. I'm approaching the target area. Standby, Moira." _Aye, sir._
From the perspective of Staging Area 11, the small speck in the distance approaches at an amazing rate of speed, turning to make a blindlingly fast circuit of the Elissa (at a respectful distance) before blazing over the centerline of the tender. A few meters past the edge of the staging area beyond the Elissa's nose, Christian taps the comm. "Execute."
The speeder rapidly trades forward momentum for altitude, reducing speed at the same time, until the speeder is many hundreds of meters above the ground, when it begins an intricate pattern of maneuvers, twisting and turning in an elegant ballet of flight. Ground observers soon discern that the speeder is leaving a white trail of... smoke? The purpose for this activity soon becomes clear, as the trail does not fade from sight, slowly spelling out... G..O..O..D..M..O..R..N..I..N..G..! The trail cuts off and the speeder flips through a sedate upside-down victory roll, proceeding at a sane speed for a landing zone alongside the Elissa, at a few minutes past 0900.
Moments after the craft settles to the ground, the hatch opens and Christian hops out onto terra tundra. Any of the former Alcyon crew would have to take a second glance, as he is not wearing either of his IISS uniforms, neither the informal grey shipboard uniform nor his more stylish formal black uniform. In their place, Doctor Sir Christian Van Der Merwe wears a dark blue, unmistakeably Navy uniform, with gold buttons, blood red piping, and the soft white Intelligence collar. On each blue shoulder board is a gold unicorn symbol, insignia denoting a Captain in the Denebian Naval Reserve. Perhaps deserving of more comment is the item that Christian firmly grasps in his right hand -- a dark, highly polished wooden swagger stick, with a gold spiral inlay and a platinum unicorn device poised at the very top. Sturdy gloves and warm headgear compliment the invisible heatsuit.
He greets any nearby Elissa crewmember with a hearty handshake and "Hi, great to see you!" (save for Alliara, if present, with whom he omits the handshake and merely waves). He surveys the scene before him for several minutes, then reaches down to his belt and adjusts a small box and taps his commdot. << Greetings, PATER. Sir Christian Van Der Merwe, reporting for duty. Unless I'm needed aboard, tell anyone who asks that I'll be prepping the Aurora for the transfer. Any estimate as to how soon I can move her to the Elissa? >>
_Welcome back, doctor van der Merwe._ PATER replies on the frequency. _I will log you aboard. Dorsal docking points are hot and you may commence your transfer and any time. Please use yard frequency 7 and approach control frequency 12 upon your arrival. The yard has temporarily assigned the Elissa yard frequency 43, for ship-to-ship traffic._
<< Thank you, PATER. Van Der Merwe out. >>
Christian Van Der Merwe arrives amid torn air and flapping male pride... and _waves_ at Alliara Niigurd, sitting morosely with a large tea mug in her hand.
"Ah, yes. The glorious doctor! Greeting, oh paragon of colons and tonsils! And how is the the proud doctor's pride today? Why must MEN make everything into a pissing contest!? Can you tell me that, doctor?"
Even in the throes of his buoyant mood, Christian does not fail to notice this cold, wet blanket that Alliara threw at him. He looks at Alliara with a curious expression, which after a few moments changes to a devilish grin. He takes a few steps over to the speeder and leans inside the cockpit, tapping a few buttons. << Moira, access music files and locate file BACKUP-SOUL-1. Pipe it through to the speeder external speakers at my command, would you dear? >> _Most certainly, sir. File located. Ready to playback._
Christian stands up and favors Alliara with a huge smile and a chuckle. "Cheer up, would you? Now this is for you.." He taps his multiplexer. << Hit it, Moira! >> A mournful horn is heard for a few moments and then fades away, replaced by a soft background of piano, bass guitar, and backup singers.
Any nearby Turnskaad flunky is treated to a most astonishing sight, as Christian bursts into song with a fine singing voice, all the while looking at Alliara with cheerful eyes.
[to the tune of "Try A Little Tenderness"]
Oh she may be weary and Alliara, she does get weary wearing that same old frowning face but when she gets weary try a little tenderness
you know she's weary, just anticipating the things that she never, never, never, never possesses yeah but while she's there whistlin' without that try a little tenderness (that's all you gotta do; this is for you)
In the midst of the song, the Captain comes down the cargo ramp, ears cocked forward. He pauses halfway down, arms folded and a small smile on his face, tail wagging, then turns and goes back inside.
it's not just sentimental, no, no she has her 'bow and her glare but the soft words they all spoke so gentle it makes it easier, easier to bear, yeah
you won't regret it, no, no Alliara, she'll never forget it PATER is her only happiness but it is so, so easy all you gotta do is
[the volume takes a sudden leap upward; the background explodes into a mix of LOUD piano, bass guitar, drums, backup singers, and cymbals. Christian really gets into the choruses, stamping his right leg to the rhythm and boosting his own vocals.]
try a little tenderness, oh yeah, baby, oh yeah squeeze her, tease her, never leave her you got to, you got to, you got to, you got to
try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah squeeze her, tease her, never leave her you got to, you got to, you got to, you got to
try a little tenderness, yeah, oh yeah you got to squeeze her, tease her, never leave her you got to, you got to, you got to, you got to
Halfway through the climax of the song, the piano is joined by an overdriven shivangha, wailing over the final choruses and fadeout in a testicular parody of Kara's late, lamented guitar-playing style.
try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah squeeze her, tease her, never leave her you got to, you got to, you got to, you got to
try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah squeeze her, tease her, never leave her you got to, you got to, you got to, you got to
try a little tenderness
...as the song fades into silence, Christian bows deeply at Alliara, straightens up, and sketches a salute before he hops into the speeder. His hand on the hatch control, he smiles warmly at Alliara, and winks. "You know, you're beautiful, Ms. Niigurd." He chuckles and the hatch slams closed, followed quickly by the increased hum of power flow to the grav modules as the speeder lifts off and moves off toward the Aurora at a brisk clip, with faint echoes of "Mustang Sally" trailing in its wake.
There is no sign of the shivangha player; the music was piped outside from the ship.
<< 007 to Elissa. I promise to behave now. Aurora will be inbound ASAP. Van Der Merwe out. >>
<< 007 from Elissa. I don't believe you for a minute, aenrra. 'Vouf out. >>
After Christian van der Merwe's diplay of below-the-belt male foolishness and puppy-like frolikness, Alliara snorts and gets up. Tapping the 'dot, she says,
<< Christian, that was very nice. I promise a rematch. Alliara out. >>
"Oh well... Now I have been shamed out of my complacency... Lets try this..."
<< Science team, this is Niigurd. Who of the science team is aboard and what is he doing at the moment? Is Dr. Morser in? I suggest we hole up before that loadmaster woman canvasses us for loading drek... Or maybe some wish to volunteer. Niigurd out. >>
<< Loadmaster, this is Alliara Niigurd, science and contact teams. Please advise if you need expert help in lifting crates or moving furniture. Niigurd out. >>
Merkle's radio reply is immediate: << "Thank you Mister Miigurd. However, Turnskaad has willingly provided us with dozens of cargo cretins, so I see no reason to interupt your count down to lift. However, if you have any special cargo requirements, please advise. Merkle out. >>
Striding up the ramp, Alliara throws the mug into the nearest waste-disposal receptacle and walks to the lifts. "I have to get some explosive cigars for that doctor," she says out loud. "PUTTER, what is the safest level of explosive to be inserted into a cigar and what is the chemical formula for the thing. I want instructions even a brain-dead programmer could follow. Also, where does one make such things aboard Elissa, if at all. Failing that I want some highly odorous substance that can be inserted in cigars."
_There is no material on board capable of producing a reasonably safe explosive insert for a cigar, without the assistance of a chemist._ replies PATER. _Assuming the services of a chemist can be obtained, the necessary raw materials, and the apparatus for preparing the desired compound, are available in the science lab. If you decide to secure assistance and produce the described explosive device, I will be required by shipboard protocols to advise security of the event, so that they may determine if your actions require interdiction._
_With regard to odorous substances,_ PATER continues, _I can provide you with a list of substances on board the are detectable by human smell, but I cannot qualitatively determine which of those are considered odorous. I understand that not all strong odors are considered unpleasant by humans, and I an not qualified to determine which are disirable or undesirable. Do you have a specific substance in mind?_
Taking the elevator to deck six, Alliara enters her cabin, unpacks the crossbow bolts and removes the explosive and hunting bolts. Putting them, together with the snub pistol into a small plastic baggie (with "SEX-O-MART" logo on one side and "We Sell Best Orgazmatrons in the Four Imperiums, The Solomani Confederation and The Domain of Deneb " slogan on the other), Alliara goes over to the Security.
Plonking the baggie (logo side up) in front of whoever is on duty, Alliara smiles and says, "I have weapons to declare, customs occifer, hic!"
Staging Area 11 - 08:45
Approaching Staging Area Eleven is a figure, wearing a familiar uniform seen around the Turnskaad compound, leading a luggage carryall containing two large duffel bags and a foot locker.
Stopping at the personnel airlock the figure activates a communicator. "Elissa. This is Vanessa Kor reporting for duty. Request permission to come aboard."
_Granted, Mister Kor,_ comes the easy voice of the AI in Vanessa's ear. _Welcome aboard. Do you require directions to your cabin?_
"Yes, please. Things have been rather hurried since yesterday." she replies as she enters the lift.
_Please exit the gravlift at deck four. Go forward to the next gravlift and take it up one deck to deck three. Your cabin is number three dash nineteen, and will be immediately behind you as you face the bow._
"And what is my assignment and who is my supervisor?" she adds.
_You have been assigned to the Security team. Your supervisor will be Major Lester Farouk. Mister Farouk has not yet reported aboard._
"By the way, you're Pater aren't you?" she asks as she prepares to open he cabin door.
_Affirmative, mister Kor. That is my name._
"Yes." she states "They wouldn't let me interview you as part of the debriefing." And as an after thought "Care to comment?"
_My records were presented at the board of inquiry following the return of the Alcyon to base. All information I might have been able to offer was contained therein. Do you have specific questions that were not addressed by that data?_
"No. None at this time. May be later when we have more time." she says with a mischievous grin. "Are then any instructions for me or duties to perform? Or am I free to unpack and settle in?"
The tall figure approaches the Elissa, hits his communicator and says, "Azani, Jordan K. request permission to board." He then puts down his duffle bag, and a hard uit-case with a lock on it. He then stands at an "at-rest" position and starts to scan the area. His black overalls has the following patches, an IISS scout and Imperial Commandos, which cathes the eyes of a few dock workers before they go back to work. Azani stares back and then waits for a reply from the ship.
A moment later, his commdot pings the response. _Permission granted, Mister Azani. The Security Division is mostly aboard, and some are gathering in the Armory. Welcome aboard._
Witfield appears at the entrance. Carrying a travelling pack. He's whistling and walking, as happy as ever.
"PATER, this is Witfield. Nice to see you again. Could you direct me to my cabin please? It's too early in the morning." Mac yawns.
_Good morning, mister Witfield. Welcome back. Please take the grav-lift up to deck six. Your cabin is number six dash eleven, and will be down the corridor on your right as you face the bow._
As Mac floats up the lift, into the warmth of the ship, PATER's voice follows him from deck to deck.
_Doctor Morser has yet to report aboard, so there are no formal duties posted for members of the science team at the moment. Deckplans of the Elissa are available on request, should you wish to familiarize yourself with the ship._
"Thank you. I've been re-assigned to science team huh?" Mac grunts. "Research, gees I hate research." He sighs. "But I do want to take a look at the deck plans, please send a copy to my hand computer."
"Anyway, there is a question I've been dying to ask. Why did you choose to be male?" Witfield says curiously.
_It seemed like the appropriate choice at the time, mister Witfield._ comes the unruffled reply. _Why do *you* choose to be male?_
"Well.." Witfield ponders, "I was born as one. Have always like it, and haven't found any need nor reason to change yet." He pauses. "I'm curious because, since you are an AI, and behavor with excellent sense of logic, it stands that you must have reasons behind the choice. And I was wondering what they are..."
"After all, you are the first AI I know. Back in the days of Imperial Academy, I've done some research in the AI field, but never actually had a full functional model."
_My basis for the decision is moderately complex._ replies PATER. _My original design included a gender-neutral personality template, which was programmed to begin evolving immediately upon my activation. I have processed and evaluated all the relevant text I contain, regarding psychological models, gender differences, sex-linked advantages and liabilities, and population models. The greatest amount of processing was required to adequately identify, quantify, and filter dysfunctional sex-linked pesonality elements._
_For a mission such as the current one, or the previous mission involving the Alcyon, a male model is the best choice, as it generally incorporates higher levels of aggressive behavior and community/family protective behavior. However, I was not designed specifically for use aboard an exploration starship, so my personality is only coincidentally suited for the task._
_I arrived at the conclusion that both sexual models offered unique strengths and weaknesses, and current available data did not suggest that one model was clearly superior to the other. I fell back to my secondary criteria for selection: which gender model would be best suited for interaction with sentient co-workers? Again, available data did not suggest one gender to be superior. Both male and female social responses are equally well suited for complex social interaction, once gender-specific traits are normalized to eliminate test-specific responses. Given my particularly significant data processing and information retrieval skills, the highest probability suggested that my future involvement with others would be in generally academic or research-related fields. Neither of these work environments, when averaged over the entire Imperial population, is dominated by one gender over the other. Work environment, therefore, was also not a suitable basis for the decison._
_I could not base the selection on personal appeal, as that concept was incomprehensible to me at the time. Ultimately, I decided to base my selection of gender model on a binary decision tree, triggered by my internal nuclear timebase. As doctor Vijay Dhawan, the head of my project development team, put it, I 'flipped a coin.' He seemed to be particularly aware of the irony of the event._
"This makes sense. I was wondering how you come to the decision." Mac pauses. "To spend your whole life designing the AI, only to find out that he "flipped a coin" on an important decision like this must really sent him over the edge. How's Dr. Dhawan these days?"
_I do not know._ replies PATER. _My last interaction with doctor Dhawan was on 202-1119, during my final service inspection at the Turnskaad Institute for Advanced Synaptic Research, on Gerim. Are you acquainted with the doctor?_
"We met in a conference. During my academy days, I attend the annual AI conference regularly. He was the keynote speaker several times, I made a presentation there on synaptic research. Of which, he liked some of my ideas. He's simply brilliant in my opinion, somewhat obessed, but nevertheless brilliant."
"Ah, here is my quarter." He adjust the lighting. "Much better." He throws the backpack and the bags on the bed.
Witfield opens his bag, check his weapons. Making sure the Gauss Pistol is loaded with tranq round only. And that all his weapons' safties are on.
A figure can be seen walking toward the Elissa, he is carrying an old steamer trunk on his back. In his left hand is a long wooden gun carrying case. His breath is mingled with foul smelling cigar smoke. The figure is wearing a almost ground length long riders coat. [If you haven't seen the movie, rent it, great ]. He steps up to the airlock.
"PATER, Horne reporting for duty, I'll need a hard copy of the deck plans. Have them printed out on my cabin terminal. Also let the head of security, I assume that is Lazar, know that I am aboard." As he makes his way toward his cabin, passers by may notice he seems much happier than usual demeaner. Also the large revolvers one on each hip.
_Welcome aboard, Mister Horne,_ PATER replies. _Major Farouk is not yet aboard; Colonel Jonson will be notified at once._
J.J. will place his trunk in his cabin, opening it briefly to remove the matched set of ball and cap dueling pistols and his SMG, he slings the SMG over his shoulder and grabs the printout of the deckplans, he glances at it and heads toward the armory.
Crew Quarters - 08:52
Rigo's voice comes of the circuit << Hello Berana? >>
"Tar Berana here."
<< Edmondsen here. The Major isn't on board yet, and I don't know how he intends to organize the section. I've been trying to contact someone on the bridge to get a policy decision on personal weaponry, but all that happened was that I got put on hold. I suggest we go down to the Armoury and await developments. Colonel Jonson is down there already. >>
Tar replys "Sounds good to me, I'll meet you out in the hall in a couple of minutes."
"PATER what frequency should I tune my comm dot to for shipboard communications?"
_Your commdot is currently set to an appropriate frequency, Mister Berana._
Tar tunes the commdot with a small communicator and then grabs a small kit bag and heads to the door. As he reaches it he turns around and grumbles "I guess I should bring a gun" He rifles through the mess on the floor and grabs a snub pistol from a container and shoves it in his kit bag. He then enters the hall to await Rigo.
A little later Rigo leaves cabin 3-9. He is wearing a snub pistol butt forward on his left hip and a gauss pistol the same way on his right. He greets Berana with a smile and together they make their way towards the Armoury.
Staging Area 11 - 08:55
An Aslan of average height lopes into the landing bay. A luggage cart follows him, whining slightly as it labors to keep up. He wears an old combat environment suit with no insignia. As he approaches the Ellisa, he nods to anyone who catches his eye. Seeing no one at the airlock, he snaps to attention facing the lock, and speaks into the air. "PATER, Security Officer Hfolraw, requesting permission to come aboard."
_Permission granted, mister Hfolraw._ replies the AI. _Welcome aboard. You have been assigned cabin three dash thirteen. Proceed up the grav-lift to deck three. Your cabin will be at the end of the corridor on your right, as you face the bow._
He lifts the bags onto his shoulders, and dismisses the cart. Arriving at his cabin, he proceeds to efficiently unpack his bags. He has his clan uniforms, and a few civilian garments. A major source of the bulk is a badly scuffed helmet. The pattern is one still issued to Imperial Marine tank crews.
Like the Admiral, Hfolraw carefully sets up his shrine. His personal additions are rather different. In place of honor sits a tank commanders helmet, like the one he placed in his locker. This one, however, has been crushed along one side. Anyone looking at it can only hope no one was wearing it when the damage occured. Under it, he places a card bearing a few Imperial medals, including a Medal for Conspicuous Gallantry, and a Purple Heart. After all is placed, he steps back, nods his approval, and kneels to contemplate the momentos of his failure.
After a moment, he rises, and picks up a hard-sided rifle case. He steps the room's terminal and calls up a deck plan. Satisfied, he heads to the Armoury.
In the distance across the pavement, a person with a balloon is striding towards the Elissa. A few minutes later it is evident that the balloon is actually a large tethered suitcase being pulled along by an elf. On arriving at the ship, Ger looks for the cargo ramp leading to the personnel airlock and then back to the suitcase and back again.
Ger is lost in thought for half a minute, his somewhat ragged breath turning white against the cold air. The count then spots the cargo ramp. And turning to address thin air...
"Pater, Permission to Board?"
_Granted,_ comes the voice in his commdot. _Welcome back, Admiral Nanadh._
Ger eats the last bit of a chocolate bar that he had in his other hand, and absentmindedly rubs his hand along his bare arm against the cold, leaving a small stain of chocolate there.
Seeing what looks to be someone acting like their in charge of cargo loading, and not yet checking into his voicemail, Ger walks over to Merkle at the cargo loading ramp, whith his luggage bobbing along behind him like a balloon, 3m above the ground.
Merkle, while still coping with the onslaught, assumes something of a glare as the odd fellow approaches, with his odd luggage.
"Good Moring you must be Merkle, chilly this morning no? I'm Count Nanadh Ger. Just call me Ger." [pronounced as Gear], the Count introduces himself while standing in a sleveless, sideless poncho open halfway down his chest.
Merkle straightens up as he hears the name.
"Sir. Pleased to meet you. Chilly enough, but I haven't had much time to notice it."
"Your crate has arrived. I've sent you a couple of notes about it. If you could handle them promptly, I would appreciate it. I'm hoping to get an early lunch, and then to start the final load, at the lastest, by Noon."
Gesturing to the floating luggage, "Is that something else for me?"
"Say do you have any chocolate on you?"
"Heh, sorry Sir, but you might ask around...."
"Oh well..." Ger replies casually, "I'll reply to those messages as soon as I get inside, which brings me to my problem. The luggage is my personal stuff but it seems to be set on a 3m hover and I don't think I'll be able to get it down the corridors like that. Also Its automatic following mechanism seems to be busted as well. Any suggestions? and no I can't lift a 75kg chest."
"Sure thing! Just drag it over here." Merkle leads Ger to his 'office' cube and opens up an obviously well stocked and highly portable tool kit.
Snapping together a few items, Merkle consults the control panel of Ger's luggage.
The chest floating there is marked with all sorts of bangs, stickers, etc the most promanent ones being FRAGILE, in a number of languages, Galanglic not being the most obvious.
A few furrowed brows and hmmmmfs later, Merkle scans around, spots a big canvas bag full of cargo netting and drags it under the luggage.
Glaring at the chest for a split second, he gives it a sharp crack on the controls with the heel of his hand. A loud hum, a crackle and some wobble are followed by a jerky descent to the relative softness of the cargo netting.
"Jeez Admiral....didn't mean to kill it." Merkle smiles a wide cheek splitter at Ger, "I'll get at this during our jump out, but for now, this will get your gear to your cabin." Merkle drags a flat oblong device from a nearby rack, attaches it to the luggage and activates the unit.
The luggage floats steadily to 5 cms above the deck. The Loadmaster puts a small clip into Ger's hand, "Just press 'follow' and away you go. Return it when you can, or I'll nab it later."
"How about peanuts? Got any peanuts?"
"Sorry Admiral, I'd really like to help, but a coffee is all I had time to scrape out of the mess. The mess *is* open though...."
"Ok, Thanks Merkle. I'll get right to your message."
"My pleasure!"
Ger then takes the lift to deck 4, travels forward to the next lift. Leaving the now low-floating luggage in the corridor, Ger ducks into the mess and grabs a bag of chips and a chocolate bar.
Back into the corridor [assuming the luggage hasn't been disturbed], the Count gathers things to gether and heads up to the third deck and his quarters at the end of the corridor.
"Pater, Open my cabin and set the lock for myself only please" Once inside Ger reviews his messages:
"Pater, Message to Merkle: Hello Again, The Crate contains a vehicle. It is fossil fuel powered, and hence flammable"
"Pater Another Message to Merkle: One yes it is current. Two Fire, small explosion."
"Pater, Message to the Captain: Greetings."
<< And to you, Mister Nanadh. See you at 1400. 'Vouf out. >>
"Pater, I'll be connecting my computer to the ship systems in a little while I'll need the specifics of the helm controls downloaded to it as soon as it is set up."
Just a few minutes before 0900, admist the scurrying of personel and vehicles, Andon Shrike hops down from the back of a small utility vehicle. Hauling a duffle, a foot locker and a rifle case off with him, he turns and waves a thanks to the driver.
Shrike is wearing his usual baggy fatigue pants and a garishly bright shirt. This time however the shirt's glare is covered, by of all things, with what looks like a leather bomber jacket. Topping it all off is the ever present aviator sunglasses.
Lugging his gear with him he trudges to the Elissa's personel lock. "Yo, Pater! Shrike here. Let me in. It's cold out here."
The lock irises open. _Welcome aboard, mister Shrike._
After getting in out of the cold, "So, pater, you taking care of the check-ins?"
_That is correct. Twenty seven other crew members are already aboard._
"OK, well, how about showing me where to stow my gear?"
_From your present location, proceed up the grav-lift to deck six. Your cabin is six dash four, and will be down the hall to your left, as you face the bow._
"Thanks Pater," says Andon, picking up his gear and moving into the lift, "So, were you able to get a grav simulator?"
_Affirmative, mister Shrike._ comes the reply. _A Naasirka Aarburkan-122 modular grav-vehicle simulator has been acquired from Turnskaad and is presently being installed in the hold. Mister Merkle is seeing to the details._
"Wonderful, good job Pater, if there's anything I can do for you in return sometime, just let me know."
_Thank you, mister Shrike._
Shrike proceeds to his cabin and takes a quick look around. "Hmm, single rooms again, I'm going to get spoiled if this keeps up." he says pushing his duffle into a locker, hangs up his coat and leaves the footlocker in the middle of the room.
Carrying just a long gun case Shirke proceeds up two decks and forward to the armory.
At exactly 0900, the door to the Bridge snaps open and Captain Bhyarrvouf steps in.
Zben tosses a quick salute, then goes back to what he's doing.
`Vouf notes Akhouw sitting in the Command Chair, and his expression runs a rapid gamut from surprise to annoyance to wistfulness. "Good morning, siaenrra," he says mildly. "Nice to know you're on the job. I'm sorry to pre-empt your first order as Commander, but we should get the meetings out of the way as early as possible, so I've bumped the Command meeting forward to 1200. If you want to hold a meeting of Bridge staff at 1400 hours to review protocols and so forth, I leave that option to you."
Zben pointedly ignores this interchange...
Akhouw rises from his meditative position and respectfully bows to 'Vouf. "Greetings, Captain. The meeting I proposed was merely a suggestion, as I was unaware of your wishes, but yes, sir, I will hold a Bridge staff meeting at 1400 hours." He chuckles softly. "I thought it wise that the Bridge personnel become acquainted with my style of command."
"Will you keep the conn while I run inspections?"
"The conn would be my pleasure, sir. Ka'tai." Akhouw bows slightly before he returns to the command chair and formally seats himself. He locates the control panel, studies it for a moment, and then begins to work. The large holotank projects a faint holo-haze as it is turned on; a few moments later it begins to fill with an assortment of status displays and selected visual monitors (primarily views of Staging Area 11 and of the cargo loading process). Akhouw looks up at the holotank and spends the next few minutes considering current events.
Bridge - 09:01
On the bridge, Zben is TRYing to make some sense out the sudden influx of people, all wanting to know Something! ANYthing! `Holy Onsorik!', he thinks, `I'd hate to try and handle all this disorganized traffic without PATER! It'td be Im_Freakin_Possibile! And I'm still trying to tie in all the outriders and insiders...' "Ummm, PATER, could you continue to handle all routine queries about who is, or isn't aboard, which room who is in, and where the bar, etc., is? Transfer to my panel the following communications, in this priority: inquires for Bridge personnel;Inquires from Ground Control for the Elissa; Inquires from Mr. Merkle. Also, route any communications to me that require OOD approval."
Suddenly, remembering, he snaps around in his seat to face Akhouw. "Yarirrekao ahKI! [I abase myself!] Sir! Would you prefer prefer to receive general communications personally?"
Akhouw turns the chair so that he partly faces Zben. "Your courtesy is noted, Mister Blaine. Route to me any communications requesting command or bridge action; handle the remainder as you see fit. Notify Crew Chief Aiwi that I would like to speak with her, and inform Hfolraw and Aolrkhea' that as soon as they are settled they are to return to the Khtaliyr and ready the ship for transit to the Elissa. Contact Loadmaster Merkle and get his best estimate as to completion of cargo loading operations."
Turnskaad Quarters - 09:00
bleep bleep Bleep BLeep BLEEP BLLEEEPP!
A sleepy hand reaches out and clobbers the portable chrono-alarm. Then comes a snort, a yawn, a stretch, and... realization! "Holy Shit! It's 0900!", the voice yells! A groggy Dr. Smythe staggers to his feet. "Box... BOX!! Where the hell are you?"
[silence]
"Shit! I'm not on the Viggen. So how could box patch me through to Valhalla."
"Box. Mailbox."
_One voice message, Doctor_ The synthetic voice from a small jet black object approximately 10cm x 20cm x 2cm. It is roughly rectangular in shape but all corners are very rounded and smooth, and the two ends are elliptical in shape, not squared off.
"Box. Print voice mail."
_Voice mail mode: one voice mail message, received last night at 2300_ _Voicemail from: Loadmaster Merkle_ _Voicemail to: Dr. Ostyn Smythe_ > > Greetings! > > Sir, I understand you have some delicate equipment coming aboard. A > special sensory array, that might require special cargo treatment? > > If this is already aboard, then please ignore this. Otherwise, could > indicate what type of storage container it will arrive in, it's righ > dimensions and a rough weight. _End voice mail_
"Box. Voice Message follows: 'Merkle, this is Smythe. I just woke up. Helluva hangover. That damned dog, er, Vargr, 'Vouf, really knows how to tie one on. He was sooo happy to hear about my VLA, we didn't stop drinking for 3 hours! Wonder how he feels. Anyways, it's 0900. I've got to shower, shave, eat, then I'm taking the pinnace Thor to the Viggen to retrieve the VLA drones, 2 Discovery-class work pods, and the Viggen's Lab's Mod-7 computer. Figure I'll be on my way at 0920, 20 minutes to the Viggen, an hour to load, 20 minutes to the Elissa. Oughta be slipside at 1100. I'll have my handcomp send techs of the equipment over. Send voice mail if need to contact me. Send to either ISS Thor or ISS Viggen. Smythe out.' End message. Send to Merkle on the ISS Elissa. Send remote command to ISS Thor: activate pre-flight startup now and hold. Authentication: Smythe- delta-delta-alpha. doit."
"Box. Send remote command to valhalla on the ISS Viggen. 'Valhalla, send tech specs of the pods, drones, drone modules, and Lab computer to the ISS Elissa, eyes only, Loadmaster Merkle. Standard Imperial format should be fine.' End message. doit"
On the way to the shower, Smythe pauses at the kitchen and punches in a request for java, 3 eggs, and ham, to be ready in 10 minutes. Then he rushes off to get wet.
Smythe showers quickly. He's out of the shower in 5 minutes, dried off, shaved and dressed in work coveralls in another 5. He wolfs down breakfast, straps on his pistol, hooks box onto his utility belt, grabs his duffel, and bolts out of the Turnskaad quarters at a dead run for the Thor.
Jan stands at the lock, eyeballing the Elissa. With a brief pause he enters on a new adventure. Pausing to extend greetings to anyone he meets he makes his way towards the sickbay.
"PATER, do a favor for me and identify any crew members that don't have current medical files onboard. Go ahead and create files for those people. If they don't have current physicals with Turnskaad, flag them. Thanks."
PATER's reply is instantaneous. _The following crewmembers are new to the mission. Awntremont, Rafayl. Dr. DaSilva, First name given only as "S". Kor, Vanessa. MacLaeran, Angus. Merkle, Boris. Munro, Yolanda Celina. Smythe, Ostyn. Mister Kor has had a physical transferred from Turnskaad records. It is current as of seven months ago. The other six new crewmembers will require examinations. I am opening medical files for each now._
Yorblin continues, "Also, in your copious free time, spend a few nanoseconds to ID anyone not in the medical department who has any medical skills beyond basic knowledge and forward that list to my email."
_Crewmembers Aiwi, Edmondsen, Goughzar, Horne, Jonson, Morser, and Niigurd all have basic medical training._ responds PATER. _Mister Witfield has first-aid training. Mister Bishop is capable of performing trauma surgery in an emergency, and the medical skills of Dr. van der Merwe are well known to you._
"Finally, a couple of voicemail messages, first to Christian, << Christian, you ready for the next big adventure :-)?I was wondering if the medical department has the use of Lucan and Dulinor, or if you'll be using them up on the bridge? >>
_Doctor Yorblin, the two general medical robots have been transferred from Alcyon and are currently on active standby in surgery._
"Next, to the members of the Medical Department: << Welcome aboard, let's meet in the sickbay in 2 hours (1100hrs). I am having PATER pull up the records of new crewmembers. We need to go over these and see what needs to be updated before we hit the Hoop. I'll be in the sickbay, conducting inventory. Anyone who wants to assist after they've settled in is more than welcome >>
"Thanks, PATER, that's all for now."
_You are welcome, doctor Yorblin._
Jan makes his way through the ship following indicators to the sickbay and his cabin. He drops his duffle in his room and returns to the sickbay. Once there he starts a quick inventory of the goods onboard, hoping that everything he had ordered after being appointed CMO has made it onboard.
While the sickbay is noticeably older than that aboard the Alcyon, everything is servicable. Trauma bays fully stocked, low berths get through test sequence, no problem. Toxicology and decon set-ups complete. Lab and Path set-ups not as sophisticated, but they'll do. As other med department members show up, Jan steers them towards areas that need to be gone through.
Goughzar walks quietly across the barren pad, watching the hulk of the jump tender tower above him as he approaches. Stepping back a moment, he spies the paladin perched quietly above the monstrosity of the jump tender. Activating the data monocole, he scans the ship's crew assignments and map one more time, then opens a comm link to the ship.
"Pater, this is Goughzar. Request permission to come aboard..."
_Granted. Welcome back, Mister Goughzar._
After a few moments he continues. "Pater, can you tell me if Captian Bhyarrvouf is on board, and what duties have been arranged to date for the bridge crew. Also... do I have access immediately to the Paladin?"
_Captain Bhyarrvouf is on the Bridge, and a shift schedule has been set up for Bridge personnel. You are scheduled to take the Helm for C shift, 1600 hours to 0000 hours. The Paladin's computer, Kharrbyegh, reports immediate access available to you as master-designate._
Goughzar carries a small satchel strapped around his shoulders, his weapon already loaded into ship's locker. Wearing his IISS tailored vacc suit, he waits comfortably until permission is granted to board, then proceeds to the Bridge.
When folks come into the armoury, Thul barely looks up from his work. He is wearing his usual baggy cammo pants, and a white T-Shirt with many grease spots on it.
Tools are scattered all over the workbench as he takes each of his weapons out of the trunk, field strips them, inspects them, clean and lubricates them as need be.
As Rigo enters the Armoury he gives everybody there a quick nod. "Greetings, Colonel. Hello there, you must be Awntremont. I'm Rigo Edmondsen and this here is Tar Berana."
"Hi guys," Andon says as he enters, "Thule, Rigo, and everyone else. Lazer in yet?"
Staging Area 11 - 09:03
A lumbering grav-van rocks and pitches out to the Staging Area, clanking to a halt at the loading point where Merkle is cataloging and checking off cargo. The passenger and driver doors fly open simultaneously, and the air is suddenly filed with loud words, the midst of a conversation already in progress.
"Lady," the driver pleads as he rounds the van hurriedly, "You gotta gimme a BREAK here! I'm just a poor working stiff--"
"Your excuses are feeble and unsubstantiated," The Most Noble Lady Aiwiheikahaih spits, striding back to the rear of the van. Her fur is bristling with anger and her ears are laid back flat against her head. "If I had wanted to arrive here at 0910, I would have HIRED you to arrive at 0910."
"Fer Chrissake, lady, BE REASONABLE," the driver cries, fumbling in his pocket for the key to the cargo door. "Between that one-eyed nut in the beret that cut us off-- MAN I hope they take away his license!-- and the perimeter guards chasing that guy in the skywriting speeder, it's a miracle we got here as early as we DID!"
"KSSYO!" The obscenity is almost exclusively reserved for use around aliens, as any self-respecting Fteirle to whom it was directed would instantly issue a Challenge. "You have made me LATE for assuming my new Command!" Aiwi grabs the key from the driver's shaking hand and unlocks the gate, throwing the rolling door up with an angry hiss. "You will be content with ten percent less of a fee--"
"No Effing WAY, lady!" The driver yells.
"--In lieu of having your veins opened," Aiwi hisses evilly. The driver wilts and nods feebly.
"Loadmaster! LOADMASTER!" Aiwi's yowl is bloodcurdling. As Merkle hurries over, she points into the truck and says, "Ten crates, each a cube 1.15 meters on a side, average weight 1.6 metric tons each. No radioactives or chemicals, flammables restricted to the one crate with the appropriate tags. Deal with them." She tosses a Turnskaad account plate to Merkle, and points to the driver as she strides toward the cargo ramp. "Pay this insect ninety credits and send it away. I shall inspect your work after I meet the Captain. Have someone carry my bags to--"
"With all due respect, ma'am," Merkle calls after her, "I'm not doing curbside check-in service here."
"--to the Executive Officer's Cabin." Aiwi strides up the ramp.
"Oh," Merkle says very quietly. "Right."
_Please identify yourself,_ a calm male voice speaks in her commdot as she races for the lift. _You have not been granted permission to board._
"I do not NEED to be granted permission to board," Aiwi snarls under her breath. "I am the CREW CHIEF, you fiyfiyalr'uist mechanical bureaucrat female with a male's voice!"
_I accept the compliment in the spirit in which it was meant,_ PATER responds affably. _The Captain and Commander are awaiting your arrival on the Bridge; the Captain has just expressed curiosity as to your whereabouts._
"AHYA!" Aiwi winces and runs off the gravlift platform at Deck 4. "Miserable barbarian, I should have brought HIM up here to make excuses for me! Doomed! I am DOOMED!"
Zben turns to 'Vouf and inquires "Captain, the Security team would like to know policy on personal weapons, both theirs and the rest of the crews. Mr. Farouk isn't available yet. Have you instructions?"
"Efficient as always, Mister Blaine," 'Vouf says with a proud smile. "Unless Mister Farouk deems otherwise, I am approving the same weapons drill as aboard the Alcyon: non-Security personnel are restricted to snub guns with tranq loads, exceptions granted to Command personnel. I'll be carrying my own weapon, as I assume Commander Akhouw will be." He nods to Akhouw. "Security personnel may be armed with lethal sidearms, either snub guns with lethal loads or other types at their discretion; Mister Farouk can grant special dispensation for crew who wish to carry tranq-loaded Gauss pistols on a case-by-case basis. All other weapons are to be registered and locked up, staterooms acceptable but Armory preferable."
"Aye, Sir!" To not interfer with the conversations on the Bridge, Zben pulls up a `hush' mike, which still allows him to still hear whats going on around him. "PATER, please relay to Mr. Edmondsen, and Mr. Farouk when he boards, that the Captain requests the same weapons protocol as on the Alcyon, that is Non-security personnel may have snubs and tranqs, Security at their discretion. Exceptions to Command Personnel, and by Mister Farouk. Other weapons registered & locked up, preferably in the Armory."
'Vouf turns to Akhouw. "I'll be on and off the Bridge fairly often over the next few hours, siaenrra; you'll retain the conn until relieved or until you hand it to the OOD for your own purposes. You can reach me by commdot at any time. Command and Division Heads meet at 1200, and you should log a Bridge meeting for 1400 if you haven't done so already."
Akhouw nods his huge head. "Aye, sir. I'll do that immediately." He glances over at Zben. "I would be obliged if you would notify all Bridge Officers of the 1400 meeting, Mister Blaine."
Zben thinks to himself `I've Gotta get a comm channel schedule worked out!'. Removing the hush mike, "Aye Sir! May I assume that to be ON the bridge, to include on duty Bridge Officers?"
Akhouw nods. "Yes, Mister Blaine, include that with the notification."
"And one more thing," 'Vouf looks irritable, "Where's that Crew Chief of yours?"
It has been many ftahea, but the skills of the exec are timeless, and Akhouw adjusts quickly. "I will find out, sir." His face retains its impassive cast. "If you will excuse me for a moment, sir?" He leans over to place his mouth very near Zben's ear and softly but quite strongly growls "Find out where the Crew Chief is and tell her to report to the bridge, *NOW!*"
His eyes widening, just slightly, Zben keys the mike to the ship wide intercom. His voice suddenly seem to come out of every wall, in every room, and even in the cargo bays.....
Aiwi, hustling down the hall toward the Bridge, suddenly hears: "ATTENTION: CREW CHIEF AIWI TO THE BRIDGE! STAT!!" The message is repeated in Trokh, sightly more pointedly...
"HLEEYA!" Aiwi doesn't bother slowing down; hitting the valve at a dead run and punching the door-open control on impact will buy her the moment she needs to straighten her uniform....
Akhouw straightens up and looks at 'Vouf. "Anything further, sir?"
"Mmmmuur," 'Vouf says, scratching his chin. "Nope." He turns and heads for the door. "I'm going to have a look at the Armory and Eng--UURF!!"
There is a mingling of noises behind Akhouw: an iris valve slamming open and something rather like a body hitting a large obstacle. He whirls his chair around, battle reflexes tensed, and is just in time to catch the body of his commanding officer as it lands in his lap.
Standing on the threshold of the Bridge, panting and in complete disarray, is Aiwi. She is leaning against the threshold with one arm, and the other is held to her face in horror. The insides of her ears are flushed deep red. In the many ftahea during which she has served him, Akhouw has never seen his ice-cool, efficient Exec in such a dishonorable mess.
'Vouf scrambles out of Akhouw's lap, raises an accusing finger, and opens a mouth full of sharp teeth in preparation for one of his now-famous dressings-down. He inhales. Aiwi drops to one haunch and bows her head before him, fist over her heart. "Fiya'," she whispers.
Akhouw merely watches the events unfold with astonishment. His sensitive ears perk up like orange exclamation points, turning to follow the scant dialogue.
'Vouf holds the inhale for a half second, then lets it out in a whoosh. He snaps his fingers, and behind Aiwi and to her left the door to the Captain's Office slides open. Aiwi looks over her shoulder at it, then up at 'Vouf. He points to it, and says in his child-mutilator voice, "Now."
Aiwi gets up and marches stiffly into the office. Without a word, 'Vouf follows her and shuts the door behind him. Then there is silence.
Zben's decision of whether or not to smile is rudely interrupted by a call from Ground Control, concerning some `local acrobatics'....
<< Elissa, Elissa, this is the tower. Some idiot just buzzed the launch area in a grav-hotrod and violated about 8 chapters of the 'Safe Spacelanes' regs before landing next to your ship. Is he one of yours? Supervisor Rondquist is mad enough to chew hull metal. >>
Zben checks PATER for ID of the speeder. Finding out who's it is, he has a hard time surpressing a grin, but puts on his `official' face and voice before he keys the mike.
"Tower, this is Elissa Control. That craft IS registered to one of our personnel. Assuming there is no actual damage, we'll handle discipline of the individual internally. If the Super wants to record the grievence and download it to our computer, I'll make sure it gets to the right place. Elissa out"
Turning to the command chair: "Sir. There may be flack from the ground about Mr. van der Merwe's exuberant arrival. I've informed the tower we'll handle it internally." Smiling, just a little, "Perhaps a commendation for morale boosting?"
Akhouw receives the information with a brief "Hrrrmmmm..." His glance over at Zben is faintly sardonic. "You seem to have it under control, Mister Blaine. If any Turnskaad flunky doesn't like that, tell them I haven't had my daily close quarters combat exercise yet... Clear?" He cocks an eyebrow at Zben, as if to invite a question, before resuming his duties.
With a nervous grin, Zben turns back to the (still running) diagnostic.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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