Disturbing Implications of Land Rising into the Sky

[Kokuten]

errr, for the record, Bob just got handed a fully-charged, 'waved Yaesu VX-R7, of which a linky can be found here. Model Page
The presets on this are setup for the shared frequencies, and the contact freqs for the Island, Stellivia, and Hephaestus Business.
I _think_ this wee unit can be convinced to do CB, given the 'wave, I'm sure of it, but this one doesn't.
Quirk-wise, it's a pseudo-shoulder-cat. It's perfectly happy doing it's job as a communications device, and is marvellously good at it. However, it likes to be talked to and petted, and works better if worn constantly.
Yeah, this happened because I'm an RF bigot. My bad.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

[robkelk]

"Noah, we just heard from V, out of Hephaestus. They're aboard the ship - it's called Grover's Corners, by the way - and Wire Geek says they're friendly; they just didn't pack a radio."

"Oh, thank Washuu. Stand down from yellow alert. Kohran, put the safeties back on that missile."

"Awwww..."

"Now, Kohran."  I extracted myself from the turret's firing station and switched on the intercom's video screen. "How big a crowd of curious onlookers do we have so far, Yoriko?"

"About two dozen, and growing.  The Warsies and the Senshi sent a half-dozen people each, the Island's shuttle is about a half-hour away, a Hidden Asteroid triad showed up from somewhere..."

"Damn kids were probably pretending to be paying tourists," I muttered under my breath.

"...and they already know you don't like them, a Long Heinleinian couple were honeymooning here and got told by their friends that they were that faction's official representatives, and I think I might have seen Candy's red sports car in landing slip five. Don't quote me on that last one, though."

I grinned. Yoriko feels about "adult" businesses the same way I feel about idiots who think hand-to-hand is useful in space; it must be because her personality algorithms were based on a police officer's.  "That doesn't add up to two dozen."

"Well... the UN wants to send an observer."

"No."

"But -"

"Absolutely not. These people just got away from the 'Danelaw; we're not about to be the ones who give the 'Danelaw a way back to them."

Yoriko frowned. "But what if they're criminals?"

"Then we let the Browncoats and the Blue Blazers handle it. They're Fen now, Yoriko, and we look after our own.  So. Did V say whether they were coming to visit us, or should we visit them?"

"No word either way yet, Noah."

I sighed.  "Let me know soonest once we get an answer, please. Recall the Epsilon Blade; I'm on my way to main control." I switched off the intercom and turned to Kohran. "I'll bet they don't have an FTL comm, either. Do we have a spare system?"

Kohran actually looked insulted. "Of course we have a spare! We have two spares, just in case something happens."

"Something happened.  Get one of the spares boxed up and ready to ship over there on the 'Blade, okay?"

"Sure!"  She headed down the access tube to engineering storage as I went to main control.

They didn't pack a radio?  Didn't they have room for one on that monster?  Oh, well; I suppose we'd find out why soon enough.

(Edit for typo)

[Bob Schroeck]

I peered at the odd little accessory on his hat, smiled, and waved. "Hiya, Ms. V! Hope you're enjoying the show." Then I turned my thoughts to Nick's question. "What do we need... hm." I glanced at Scott, and he took over.
"Not much, really, other than the comm stuff and a good Net connection," he said, jumping right in. "We were planning to just camp at L3 for a week or two while we got used to being in space and finished up our fleet. So we stocked up on enough supplies to cover us for that and a bit."
Nick nodded, then raised an eyebrow. "Your fleet? Just how many of you are there?"
Scott grinned. "Oh, a couple dozen or so."
I did a quick count on my fingers. "Seven families and a few related hangers-on."
Nick whistled. "What did you do, all move into the same neighborhood and then 'wave the entire place?"
"Pretty much," Scott said.
"We had a long-term plan," I added. "Anyway, if you want, we can..."
I never finished because the radio in my hand gave a squawk. "Breaker, breaker, this is HB88, hailing the very pleasant real estate off my portside window. I am requesting permission to dock and say howdy. I'm not selling Amway, nor am I handing out literature. Y'all decent for visitors, or should I come back later?" a male voice with a Western-sounding accent crackled out of the speaker.
I looked at Scott. He shrugged. "We've got one visitor already, why not more? Not like we're gonna get crowded."
"Okay, then," I said. "Why don't you give Nick the fifty-cent tour, and take him up to Town Hall to meet everyone? Oh, and send somebody back with more carts for our next bunch of visitors."
"Cool," Scott agreed. "C'mon, Nick, time for a ride."
As the two of them climbed into the cart and took off down Blue Horizon Boulevard, I brought the walkie-talkie to my lips. "Ahoy, HB88. This is the Ess..." I wracked my brain for the Fenspace ship class nomenclature, "Um, Ess Vee Grover's Corners. If you don't mind hitching a ride with us as we head to L3, sure, come on in."
"Well, that's right neighborly of you, Grover's Corners," the voice crackled back. "Where should I dock?"
"One moment, HB88." I stepped back to the garage, closed the back door and dogged it tight, then hit the big button next to it. As the air pumps started chug-chugging away, the red light over the door turned on. "Sorry, HB88, I'm back. If you circle our equator, you should eventually spot an open docking bay with a welcome sign over it. Just slide on in, we've got plenty of room unless you're something unusually large." I stopped for a moment of pot-kettle-black when I realized what I'd just said, and chuckled before continuing. "I'll be waiting for you there."
Then I had a thought. "Um, none of you are agoraphobes, are you?"

---

Just as a reference for anyone writing their first impressions of the GC's interior, what we have here is a big chunk of rural neighborhood, not really an entire town. The area I'm modelling it on is zoned for mixed farming and residential -- and anything that isn't a farm still has at least 4 acres of property, so there's a big distance between houses. It's corn (maize) and horse country, judging from what I saw when we visited, so you'll see a lot of fallow fields and pastures. Threaded between many of the farms, and filling up a lot of the northern half of the ship, is cedar and deciduous woods, mostly around 40 years' growth or so.
One field along the road to town hall, I might note, has been recently repurposed as some kind of grove -- it's filled with young trees that look to have been transplanted sometime in the last year. Most of them appear to be surviving.
Also note that the GC has genuine sky inside -- the dome goes straight up for at least a couple hundred feet at the equator, and reaches its zenith nearly 2000 feet overhead! The dome itself simulates clouds, but space beyond is visible.
Oh, and Scott is a heavy-set fellow with short-cropped blonde hair, deceptively sleepy-looking blue eyes and an easy-going manner, as well as a goofy sense of humor. He has the look of a big teddy bear to him, which hides the fact that he's ex-military.
Coming up next, the bridge crew spot the cavalcade of visitors on the sensors.

-- Bob
---------
Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as
"City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow

[Bob Schroeck]

(That "coming next" was not intended to dissuade anyone from posting follow-ups, btw -- I just wanted to let people know where my focus was going to switch next.)
-- Bob
---------
Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as
"City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow

[Herr Bad Moon]

We weren't the first to get there. Not by a long shot. Don't get me wrong, my boat can haul ass, completely smoking most others in her weight class with more authority than she has any right to. But we were a third of the way out to Mars when we got the call, but to quote a certain book , Space is Big! and it takes a little while even with our throttle set to hellride. So people with better positioning and faster boats got there first. Annoyed!
To keep myself occupied, I sat in one of the wannabe barber chairs in the Truths wheelhouse, occasionally grumbling about an increasing trend of crap going down while I'm off doing the crop report in Toledo out loud to nobody and fiddling with my newest toy. Said toy being a ugly looking kludge of what I hoped would be a hovering camera and a wireless hub connecting it back to Galvius' mainframe. After one too many times dropping my Palm Pilot, my camcorder, my digital tape recorder, my cellphone, and my spiral note book down whatever bottomless space station shaft I was walking near on any particular day, Cynthia and Jeremiah had had enough. They staged a sort of intervention for clumsy assholes, and told me in no uncertain terms that I could no longer continue to go through my gear like Honey Bucket toilet paper at a chili cook off. This shit was expensive So, Perry and I spend a couple weeks pirating whatever media we can find of hover cameras in action, then taking screen caps and feeding the printed off results into a bucket of 'wavium. Long story short, it's why I was noodling around with a basketball sized hunk of crimes against engineering aesthetics, doing my best to follows Perry's instructions on how best to not make it explode into fiery shrapnel on the first go.
A two toned chime from the Captain's station brought me out of my tecno-reverie, and I turned to where Perry and Cynthia had been having hushed conversations with Callisto the whole ride over. We there yet?
Cynthia just gave a little head bob out the window while continuing to keep her attention on her computer screen. Perry gaped in awe though, and pointed to starboard. Wow, there she is.
You can have as vivid an imagination as a seven year old tweaking on LSD, but sometimes numbers just don't give you a picture justice till you see it for your own eyes. It was a huge sphere, more than half a mile wide, looming there in space making every other artificial object in its vicinity look meek and anemic in comparison. The lower half was smoothed off soil, obviously liberally treated with 'wavium, which gave it a polished look. The upper hemisphere was transparent in places, like a skylight or green house writ large. I couldn't make anything specific from our distance, but there looked to be a lot of green. I had the sudden fanciful image of a flying snow globe. All and all, one hell of an Unreal Estate.
Callisto popped up on a auxiliary monitor, today dressed up like she was one of the Little Rascals. That's the biggest damn space marble I've ever seen!
I snorted. I was just thinking flying snow globe, but yeah that works too.
Perry looked scandalized. Come on guys, have some respect! Look at the thing, do you know how much 'wave it would take to engineer that thing? In America? Those guys have some serious nerve!
Don't get me wrong! I think its neat! But still... space marble! Callisto made a vague gesture, seeming to signify the importance of her initial impression.
Cynthia, as always, was all business. We're coming up on her y axis, near the southern pole. I'm slowing us down to maneuvering speeds till we figure out where we can park. I assume you and Jeremiah'll be taking Gaye and the L.R.D.?
Yup, makes sense. They're big enough they might have docking for a big gal like the Truth, but might as well start small, I replied.
Perry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Um, not to rain on your parade or anything, but splish splash. What makes you think they'll let you board? For all they know, we could be Dark Kingdom.
For one thing, we brought beer, a laconic drawl came from behind us, as Jeremiah heaved his tank like build up through the stairwell from the lower deck. The L.R.D.'s loaded up and ready to go whenever you want boss. I even have koozies.
Here Cynthia and I partook in our favorite Olympic sport: Synchronized Eye-Rolling. She might have added a scoffing Texans under her breath. She's sweet like that.
Perry seemed unimpressed by offers of booze, but switched tactics anyway. Well fine fine, sure you'll get on board. But what if they're Dark Kingdom? We don't actually know anything about these guys. Are you guys going to have a shoot out again?
That business out in the Oort Cloud doesn't count. And c'mon, even if we assume these guys are Black Hats (which we shouldn't!) pretty much all of Fenspace is watching them right now. And with as many people buzzing around them after little more than a hour or two? They aren't gonna try anything. Plus, we'll have brought beer. You don't attack bringers of... what are we giving them?
Our last crate of Fat Tires, Jeremiah supplied.
Awesome sauce. See? Who'd turn down Fat Tires? Nobody that's who. Washingtonians are famous for taking our coffee seriously, but what we're less known for but take equally seriously is our micro-brews. You can walk into any Safeway or QFC in the state, and where in other parts of the country they'll have a huge isle filled with rack after rack of Bud Light and Coors, half our damn shelve space is dedicated to smaller, expensive ales and lagers and seasonal beers from dozens of small companies. Fat Tires is a brand of beer brewed by the New Belgium Brewing Company, one of more well known brewers.
I dunno, a couple of beers...
And vodka! Toni shouted up from the galley. Bottles of it!
See, we're the welcome wagon! They'll love us, Calli said, now looking like an extra from the a grocery in the Wonder Years.
You want to hail them, or sit around talking about talking to them? Cynthia dead panned from where she was steering.
Right, gimme the radio. We'll broadcast first then video link if they've got it, I cleared my throat and lifted the head set. Attention unidentified... uh giant space marble... I made a face. Not my smoothest of hellos. This is the Inelegant Truth, can you guys hear me. Blink once for yes.
Perry was outraged! You can't hail them like that! What kind of impression are you trying to establish!
Well what's he supposed to call her? She doesn't have an IFF, Calli said coming to my defense.
Perry: I don't know, unidentified vessel! Or unknown ship! Not a vague simile to a kids toy!
Me: It's an Unreal Estate, they usually aren't ships.
Perry: That's besides the point! What if they hailed us as 'Hey there, large rusting hulk of a crabber, what's up?
Callisto: I am not rusting! Good luck getting hot water for the next week, Percival!
Perry: Er...
Cynthia: Too late now, he's already made them mad. Better mention the Fat Tires quick, or you'll never get to talk to them
Me: Good idea. Bribery is the best way to make new friends.
Jeremiah: You do know that you're fingers been on the button the whole time and they can hear us?
Me: Dammit!
Toni (from the galley): Nevermind about the vodka, Dieter just took it all back. And he's pissed. I told him Jon made me.
Me: Shit, now I have to check my food for crude oil for the next month.
Jeremiah: You're still broadcasting.
Me: Dammit!---------------
-Jon
Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.
-Poster on USSMariner.com
---
Jon
"And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"

[robkelk]

"People, people..." They weren't listening. "PEOPLE!"

It's amazing how yelling at a bickering mob can get them to agree on something. Usually what they agree on is that they don't like being interrupted, but at least shouting at them gets their attention.

"Now that you're paying attention to your host..." At least some of them had the decency to look embarassed. "...we have to work out who's going to pay the Grover's Corners a visit."

"Don't they have room enough in their landing bay for all of our ships?"

I recognized the voice; it was a Senshi who I'd done business with in the past. "I don't know, Leda, but let's put it this way: If Crystal Tokyo had a choice between a dozen ships suddenly showing up and a hundred ships suddenly showing up, which would their traffic control prefer?"

"Oh, ... right."

One of the Hidden Asteroid yahoos looked like he was about to say something stupid; I went on before he could open his mouth. "Add to that the fact that a lot of people skipped right past Stellvia and have already docked with our newest neighbours. We're probably looking at barging in on a bunch of folks who already have a lot more visitors than they planned for right after launching. So, who absolutely has to be in the first group of visitors, and who can wait for a while?"

Before anyone could answer, the intercom beeped. "Mr. Scott, the crew of the Epsilon Blade says that cargo loading is complete. They're ready for passengers now."

I thumbed my palmtop computer on, switched its foreground program to "intercom", and spoke into its microphone. "Thank you, control. Please inform the Epsilon Blade that I and six other passengers will be there shortly. Scott out." I turned back to the crowd as I thumbed the palmtop off. "You all heard what I said - six passengers besides me. Since there are more than six factions represented here, somebody's going to have to wait, or get there on their own. Who here has their own ships?"

The Heinleinians raised their hands, as did the Buccaneers and the Browncoats. The Gearheads' commander piped up. "We can squeeze in three or four passengers in our mechs."

The Warsie delegation's leader added, "We have room for a dozen supernumeraries in our launch."

"I'll leave the others to you then, Mr. Solo, Mr. Duo." I know it was traditional for Fen to take false names to avoid the 'Danelaw, but why did they have to take such obviously false names? "I think that covers the bases. I'll go first, with one representative each from the ..." I caught myself before I used any of the faction nicknames "... Crystal Millennium, the Interstellar Alliance, the United Federation of Planets, ..." You'd think the Trekkies would have had their own ship. "... the Musician's Aid Society, the Watch, and the Barsoomians."

"But no Ninjas, huh?"

I looked straight at the sneering, snot-nosed brat. "You folks make a point of traveling in threes. I have room for one person per faction. Why would I offer to break up your group?"

He deflated visibly. (Now is not the time to pick a fight, moron.) "I guess that makes sense." The idiot walked over to the Warsie commander and started whispering to him.

I turned back to the others. "If you've decided who's going with me, let's head down to the landing slip."

---

"Noah, we're ready to launch as soon as our passengers settle in in the lounge. I've taken the liberty of securing the hatches to the crew quarters and your cabin."

"Thank you, Yayoi." Securing the hatch to the crew quarters meant nobody'd be able to wander back to the weapons locker or the turret. "Sora's in engineering; would you be kind enough to assist me on the bridge?"

Which meant I didn't have to unlock the door to my own cabin, so nobody'd be wandering in there, either. My personal pilot's a smart girl. "Certainly, Yayoi. I'll be right there, as soon as I make sure our passengers are comfortable."

A few minutes later, we were away. Five minutes later (we took things slowly to avoid colliding with the Inelegant Truth, who'd just beat us to our new comrades), we were there. "Hello, Grover's Corners, this is the SS Epsilon Blade out of space station Stellvia, requesting permission to land. We've got nine people aboard who'd like to say hello to you in person. We also have some communications equipment I suspect you'd appreciate having, and one of the people aboard is an engineer who knows how to install it. Awaiting your reply..."

---

Edit: At which point, I fully expect Wire Geek to let the Grover's Corners folks know that Noah has a reputation for not simply giving things away. Won't they be surprised when they ask the price of the comm system...

[Bob Schroeck]

(I'm not ignoring the thread. I'm writing. An inspiration for a piece about the launch as viewed from the groundside came to me, and I'm writing it. I'll probably post it in its own thread, because it'll be dramatically out of sync with what's happening here, but when I do, I'll come back to the main thread and figure out where to go from here.)

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[Kokuten]

---

Edit: At which point, I fully expect Wire Geek to let the Grover's Corners folks know that Noah has a reputation for not simply giving things away. Won't they be surprised when they ask the price of the comm system...

---

Consider it done - at this point, WG is gonna take the dime tour and make his farewells, it's time to go home for him.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

[Bob Schroeck]

I'm still working on that other piece, but I'm feeling antsy about leaving this thread fallow for more than a couple days. But I'm also unsure of where to go from here -- it seems like several scenes of people docking and going "wow" is in our immediate future, but unless folks want to write those reactions, I was thinking of jumping right to having all those visitors settling into the living room of one of the houses, or maybe around the conference room table in the Town Hall. Thoughts, objections?

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[robkelk]

One quick exchange, after the 'Blade docks and one of the locals corners Noah...

"Wire Geek mentioned that you're not known for just giving things away. We want the communications gear -- hell, we need the comms gear -- but we don't have a lot of money right now..."

"I don't want money. I've got plenty of money. Here's what I do want: First, be good neighbours: don't ignore anyone in distress, don't keep to yourselves, and keep the news flowing. Second, take part in the conventions: they're our version of government, and I suspect everyone else wants you taking part in charting our collective course as much as I do. Finally, raise your children well, and be good to... no, be excellent to each other. I doubt that'll be too much of a burden for you, right?"

"How did you know we brought our children along?"

"You did what?"

After that, Sora disappears with whoever supervises/helps with the installation, and the rest of us head to Town Hall...

Edit:  And another line that doesn't really fit in a Town Hall meeting, but some Fan simply must say:

"Well... you've got a big geodesic dome that lets light in, and plenty of green, growing things... but I don't see Huey, Dewey, and Louie anywhere." I waited for his response; if he asked what cartoon ducks had to do with anything, I was going to be very disappointed.

[Bob Schroeck]

The children were duly gathered into the bunker-like concrete structure that some were calling "Town Hall" while Nancy and Peggy went to work on the sensor suite. As most of the suite had been automated through the central computer network, the vast majority of its operation was handled through voice commands to Geordi, the engineering AI, and through a touch control that had been deliberately designed to be as simple as possible.
"Wow," Nancy whispered.
"Yeah," Peggy concurred. "More company coming. Lots more." Her arms twitched; Kat and Helen, standing immediately behind her, both saw this and had simultaneous images of Peggy leaping up and impossibly trying to mop and scrub the entire 250 acres of the ship before anyone else could get on board. Without looking at each other they each laid a hand on Peggy's shoulders, in case they had to hold her down and talk her out of a cleaning binge.
"How many?" Attila called from where he roughhoused with Rushin and the other dogs. None of the animals had taken the launch well -- the cats had fled to the tops of the tallest pieces of furniture they could find as soon as the dome had started unfolding and were still there, while the dogs had howled until someone had thought to close the door of the drive room in the basement. Even now, the dogs were whining and nervous, and Attila was hoping to distract them with a little play.
"Everyone, I think," Nancy said.
"Fuck," Attila with surprisingly little emotion.
Nancy snorted and dragged her finger along the large portrait-orientation touchscreen, pulling the sensor viewpoint along with it. The image was synthetic, a false-perspective super-fisheye generated by stitching together the images generated by dozens of stationary cameras grown into the hull during the building process. At any one time, it showed a wedge of space 90 degrees wide, and stretching from the top of the ship to its bottom, although the vertical swatch could be shifted if the image needed to center on objects near the poles.
It was one of four such screens which all stood next to each other and normally provided an integrated full-spherical display. At times like this, though, they could be operated and pointed independently, as Peggy and Nancy were doing. Overlays in various hues highlighted and annotated objects and ships in nearby space.
The displays were a riot of color. As Nancy and Peggy swept nearby space around them with their scans, there didn't seem to be a single section from which at least one ship wasn't coming, or already matching their velocity. "I'd say we've attracted some attention," John chuckled as he watched from over Nancy's shoulder.
"You know," Nancy mused as she zoomed the display in on one fencraft that looked like it had been a fishing trawler in an earlier life, "It just occurred to me that we could have managed this launch with a little more... I don't know, professionalism? I mean, we didn't even turn on the sensors or anything, we just went up. That's okay if you're flying a Volvo or something, but we're big!"
"We didn't need to," Alison pointed out. "We weren't under any regular air traffic corridors, and we passed though the usual altitudes for commercial flights so fast that a plane would've had to've been right on top of us for there to be any danger. And anything else that might've wandered across us would have picked us up on radar way before they needed to do anything about it."
Nancy shook her head. "I'm just saying, we launched way too casually. Yeah, nothing bad happened, but we should have been careful right from the start."
"Oh, well." Peggy's tone combined fatalism and snark, enough of both to merit an annoyed glance from her sister-in-law.
Attila rose from where he'd played with the dogs, fingering the belt buckle that held a hidden knife. "If you guys are going to fight, then I'm goin' outside for a smoke. You know where to find me if you need me."
"I wish he wouldn't do that," Peggy muttered grumpily after he'd left. "It's going to stink up the air in the ship and set off my allergies."
"Peggy!" Helen snapped.
Over Peggy's head Kat shot Helen a look that said "have patience", then squeezed Peggy's shoulder. "Peggy, we've been through this before," she said gently. "We've got more than twelve billion cubic feet of air. Attila's cigarettes aren't going to foul that so you'd notice any time soon, even if we didn't have a life support system filtering and refreshing it."
"I still don't like it," Peggy muttered.
Kat sent that "patience" look Helen's way again.
* * *

"Attention unidentified... uh giant space marble... This is the Inelegant Truth, can you guys hear me? Blink once for yes." Another male voice, this one relatively unaccented, blared out of the radio.
I chuckled as that hail was followed by what amounted to a comedy routine. Wow, these guys sounded almost as slipshod as us.
I steered my current golf cart with one hand (Damn, I should've had Grace leave the one that drives itself, I mentally groused) and held the walkie-talkie up to my ear. I was driving breakneck across raw terrain to get to the southern garage, since our first two batches of visitors had pretty much filled up the east garage, and the jouncing around was getting on my nerves. Not to mention the battering my ear was getting from the walkie-talkie.
Add to To-do list: clear direct roads between all three airlocks. I frowned. Also add to To-do list: find out if there's anywhere we can get asphalt in Fenspace. Or a bulldozer.
When the exchange from the Inelegant Truth had ended with a second heartfelt "Dammit!", I chuckled to myself and debated whether or not I should respond with, "Hey there, large rusting hulk of a crabber, what's up?"
I decided against being that much of a smartass, though. "Ahoy, Inelegant Truth. This is the SV Grover's Corners. I blink in your general direction."
That got me a torrent of laughter in multiple voices, both male and female. The same male speaker as before then said, "I guess we deserved that. Do I have the privilege of speaking to the captain?"
I dodged the cart around a stump and pulled up short at the southern garage. "Um, not really, but I'm about as close as you're going to get."
"...As close as we're going to get?"
"Yeah," I said, hopping out of the cart and heading for the airlock door. "We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week. But all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified by a simple majority..."
They were laughing again. This was good. I grinned to myself as I dogged the door and hit the exhaust cycle.
"Seriously, Truth, we didn't get around to appointing a captain before we lifted, and as it so happens I'm the only one with a radio. So you're stuck with me."
"Fair enough," he said, a little static roughening up his voice. "So, Mr. Not-Appearing-In-The-Captain's-Chair, would you good folks be up for some more company?"
"Well," I drew out the syllable as I hit the little green-lit button that triggered the garage door opener, "we're a little cramped with everybody who's already here, but I think we could squeeze you in somewhere. I've just opened our southern docking bay, but if you're really flying a rusted old crabber, you're bigger than we can handle, and you'll have to come in via a shuttle."
"Understood, Grover's Corners, we'll be there in a few minutes."
I plopped back down into the cart. "Coolness. See you then. Grover's Corners out." Then I looked down at the cart and the three empty seats. Damn, I thought, trying to count voices from memory. I hope there aren't too many of them. I studied the walkie-talkie for a moment. Wish I could call to have someone bring more carts again. I sighed. Add to To-do list: Get in-ship cell phone service up and running pronto.

---

Yes, my beloved Peggy is a little bit neurotic about a few things. Her allergies are real (tobacco smoke and cats are the two big ones) although just how severe they actually are is unclear to me; although she's had some bad reactions -- including one nearly-disastrous one caused by an attempted program of desensitization by an allergist -- in general I've noticed that the severity of her "usual" attacks tends to be inversely proportional to how distracted or involved with something else she is at the time.
Knowing how she thinks, I don't believe it is too improbable that she would (consciously or not) reason "(ship = indoors) + smoking = bad allergic reaction" and react accordingly.

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[Kokuten]

---

"(ship = indoors) + smoking = bad allergic reaction" and react accordingly.

---

I've been having quite good results with a setup that The Jason put together when he was at Hephaestus, fixing the dome. I'm not sure what its genetic code looks like, but it's green and leafy, and it converts cigarette smoke into 'toxic marbles' and 'tobacco pods'.
strange little plant - but it does a number on smoke.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

[Herr Bad Moon]

---

I waited for his response; if he asked what cartoon ducks had to do with anything, I was going to be very disappointed.

---

He'd be very dissapointed in me, for I have no idea what this is in reference to and Ducktales! being a very important chunk of my life ---------------
-Jon
Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.
-Poster on USSMariner.com
---
Jon
"And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"

[robkelk]

---

He'd be very dissapointed in me, for I have no idea what this is in reference to and Ducktales! being a very important chunk of my life

---

Kids these days - they don't even recognize a reference to one of the best science-fiction movies ever made...

-Rob Kelk
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

[robkelk]

---

Yes, my beloved Peggy is a little bit neurotic about a few things. Her allergies are real (tobacco smoke and cats are the two big ones) although just how severe they actually are is unclear to me; although she's had some bad reactions -- including one nearly-disastrous one caused by an attempted program of desensitization by an allergist -- in general I've noticed that the severity of her "usual" attacks tends to be inversely proportional to how distracted or involved with something else she is at the time.

---

Wow... I thought for the longest time that I was the only person on Earth allergic to tobacco. (I'm told that the allergist's nurse freaked out when I reacted as if in a grand mal seizure when I was tested for it. I remember nothing of the event.)  One reason I finally ended up working with computers is that people aren't allowed to smoke in computer rooms.

---

Knowing how she thinks, I don't believe it is too improbable that she would (consciously or not) reason "(ship = indoors) + smoking = bad allergic reaction" and react accordingly.

---

When you're that allergic to tobacco smoke (or any other airborne agent, for that matter), this is a survival trait. Trust me on this one.

[Bob Schroeck]

---

Kids these days - they don't even recognize a reference to one of the best science-fiction movies ever made...

---

I'll have to admit that I didn't get it either, but it's been at least 15 years and maybe much more since I last saw that.
But now that you've reminded me, it has merged with an idea Peggy gave me about 'waving some Roombas to help with her cat dander allergies...

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[Bob Schroeck]

Has the story in this thread run its course? It seems to have petered out...

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[robkelk]

I was waiting for you to kick off the Town Hall meeting...

If you'd rather, I could try writing something sometime this week, assuming I have time.  Just let me know (by e-mail) the personalities of the people that Noah, Sora, Yayoi, and Leda will be interacting with.

Edit: Especially if there's a mechanically-inclined teenaged male on board who'd be working with Sora when she installs the comm systems...

[Bob Schroeck]

Oh. Okay. I was waiting for responses from the Inelegant Truth crowd, and then I was going to deal with the massive diplomatic shipment. Because I wanted to do two particular scenes before the Town Hall, I was holding off on that. One is going to be one of the girls riding up on a horse -- not a common sight in Fenspace, that; the other would be the ride to the Hall with one of the groups, so I could farm some reactions.

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[Bob Schroeck]

My worries about transportation for our lastest guests were temporarily alleviated when Peggy's brothers all showed up in more golf carts. This surprised me a bit, since none of the three had actually lived in the neighborhood, so I hadn't expected them to be comfortable driving cross-country in the ship. Then again, it wasn't like they could get lost -- all they had to do was head for the dome and then follow it around to get to any of the docks or either end of Blue Horizon Boulevard.
Anyway, Dave and Jim were racing, while Ed -- as ever careful about aggravating his back -- followed behind them at a slightly more stately pace. I had no idea how they'd known we needed transport for more guests, but I was very glad to see them -- the Inelegant Truth's shuttle was sliding into the garage even as they screeched to a halt in front of me.
"Yo, guys, good timing," I said as they unlimbered themselves and stretched. All three of Peggy's brothers tower over me, anywhere from couple inches to over a head taller, and just seeing them squeezed into the golf carts had been amusing. "'Scuse me a moment," I added when I heard/felt the shuttle touch concrete, and thumbed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie. "You're down, right?"
"That we are, Grover's Corners," crackled back.
"'Kay, then, hold on for atmosphere." I hit the garage door button; when the motors stopped grinding, I heard the whir of the air pumps. We'd originally wired the two plus a couple of other systems separately, though they all came to the same control panel; the 'wavium had taken them all and integrated the lot. Even better, it seemed to have figured out what order we needed to run things ("pump out air, then open garage doors," for example) when performing what would become common tasks, and had automated them for us. It had even added a couple safety interlocks that we'd not had the time or materials to make ourselves. Then again, we always had good results with 'wavium, as long as we had at least one of the Wiccans talking to it and telling it the general idea of what we wanted.
Anyway, the button flashed green again, and the back door unbolted itself. I keyed the radio again. "You're go for air, guys."
"Thanks! See you in a couple minutes then."
"Right!" I slid the walkie-talkie into a pocket, and turned back to Peggy's brothers. "So, like I was saying, good timing. This is our first load of space reporters, but they sound like cool folks."
"Spiff," Dave said. Oldest brother, craggiest features, middle height. "We'll give'em the tour, then."
"Get lost, more like it," Jim amended. Middle brother, shortest but still taller than me.
"So..." I kept one eye on the garage door, so I could greet our new visitors properly. "How'd you guys know I needed more wheels?" I glanced over at Ed's cart, which was another of the ones that had gained hover systems in the conversion. "Seats, whatever."
Ed -- youngest, tallest -- slowly rolled his shoulders and stretched. "That fellow Nick had another radio on him and set it up so we could all hear it. We've been listening to you all this time."
I frowned. "And no one bothered to jump on the line to help."
"Nah," Dave answered. "You were doing just fine by yourself. Besides, we were listening in on all the other radio chatter out there, too."
"We've, uh, caused a bit of a ruckus with the launch," Jim added with a grin.
"Gee, can't imagine why," I deadpanned, and just then the garage door opened.
* * *
After all the greetings and the inevitable "wow"s at the interior vista, we got the crew of the Inelegant Truth and all their gear in the carts. But no sooner had Peggy's brothers taken off with them for Town Hall, then I got another hail on the squawkbox: "Hello, Grover's Corners, this is the SS Epsilon Blade out of space station Stellvia, requesting permission to land. We've got nine people aboard who'd like to say hello to you in person. We also have some communications equipment I suspect you'd appreciate having, and one of the people aboard is an engineer who knows how to install it. Awaiting your reply..."
I sighed. No rest for the weary. I mean that literally -- it was nearly three in the morning for all of us. At least the kids were probably asleep. Lucky kids. If things had happened as we'd intended them to, we'd've been safely parked at L3 with all of us sacking out by now. We just didn't take into account a) that Fenspace doesn't run on Eastern Daylight Time and b) just how overwhelmingly interesting we would be to the folks who were already out there. The combination essentially scuttled our original plans.
After the first couple of guests, I was starting to get just a little bit irritable, what with the lack of sleep and all. I was tired, not stupid, though -- for one thing, that FTL comm system would be very welcome. And for another, well, we'd done our research on Fenspace long before lifting and had kept it up to date, and I knew that ten people out of Stellvia on the Epsilon Blade could be only one thing -- some kind of mass diplomatic mission from the various factions.
Oh joy. I'm not all that diplomatic even when I'm awake.

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[robkelk]

Bob, should Noah still be waiting on permission to land, or can I assume he gets it?

-Rob Kelk
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

[Bob Schroeck]

Oh, sorry, sure, I'm not going to be turning anyone away, no matter how irritable my analogue gets from lack of sleep.

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[Bob Schroeck]

Just wondering... is this thread dead now? Or are people just taking their time to add their own bits? Or waiting for me to add something that I'm not aware people are waiting for?

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

[robkelk]

I think it's my turn... sorry about the delay. I'll work on something over the weekend.

-Rob Kelk
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

[Herr Bad Moon]

Well, for my part, I've been sorta hesitant to proceed since it's getting to the point where the scene will be about the various characters interacting, and I'm still getting a feel for MY guys much less characters created by other people. And then there's the one's based on real life peeps
But who dares wins, so I'll try to have something up by the end of the weekend.---------------
-Jon
Being the Mariner hitting coach is like being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.
-Poster on USSMariner.com
---
Jon
"And that must have caused my dad's brain to break in half, replaced by a purely mechanical engine of revenge!"