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Plotbunny for sale - cheap
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I'm glad you approve of Morden-san, Catty. He's rather playing into the role, which he does occasionally (he doesn't really look at all like Ed Wasser though).
D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever. A lot of people think of fenspace as being full of plucky adventurers, haring off into the great unknown for the sheer love of the wilds of space. Poppycock. Granted, many of us do get misty-eyed about the wonders of the solar system, but at the same time most of our day to day lives are concerned with much the same sort of rat race as planetside life. Those documentaries you've seen about the Jam Jump or the Explain Star exploring the outer planets... do you really think that the networks got those videos and high color glossy photos for free? Mars isn't a dream, it's an investment, real estate development writ shockingly large, and already the cold-adapted crop strains that the dusters have introduced are starting to sell well enough to pay the terraforming project's day-to-day costs. Venus paid back its startup costs and has been earning a profit for years, shipping back hydrocarbons to Earth for use as fuel or plastics. Heavy metals mined from the asteroid belt are feeding much of Terra's industry these days, light ones from Luna likewise, while every day thousands more miles of hydrogen power lines are laid after being mined and processed from Jupiter's heart. And, of course, there's always the usual human trades in murder, vice, and treason. Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm a spy, admittedly, but not a murderer and hardly a dealer. Besides a few lingering feelings for the country of my birth, my reasoning is that fenspace is unlikely to present a threat to, well, any Terran government at any point in the foreseeable future... but that, without the information to draw that conclusion for themselves, there'd be far too little chance of the Powers That Be believing that. Since the fen are too diffuse and disorganized to be brought to heel in return, it seems wise to arrange the dissemination of such information and forestall any such rash and dangerous attempt. And so Moondance goes about her business just as she would anyway, while hidden and carefully stealthed sensors and listening arrays watch and hear the thoughts and heartbeats of fenspace and record them faithfully for processing and analysis by our self-styled masters on the homeworld. Of course, the presence of that same state-of-the-art monitoring equipment, both wave and hardtech, would be extremely awkward to explain if it were discovered... which it definitely would be during any sort of refit. If - when - the Star Patrol finally faced down the Reavers, we'd need fighting ships. As the largest hull among the first wave of volunteers, 'Dancer was a logical candidate for conversion. Breaking cover would have inconvenient consequences for both me and my silent partners, which meant that we needed to sneak the secret sensor gear off the ship, posthaste. Fortunately, the CIA had a station on Castle Magellan, and though it was rare for them to ship things to it via commercial carrier, it was hardly unheard of. Load empty crates on Earth, lift for Venus, work frantically 24-7 during the passage to get everything pulled out and stuffed in their boxes in time, land at Magellan and put the boxes of clearly marked Top Secret on a trolley for the station. Simple. Let Stace - who's known to be the more hotheaded of the two of us - stage a large and public argument with those members of the crew whose expertise the Agency had judged us to no longer need, and we're about as home free as it's possible to get. Pity to've lost the stuff just then, though. It would've been tremendously useful for the mission the Patrol had assigned us, no matter what course the investigation ended up taking. Diamond as Castle M.'s shell and roof would be possible, but I'm concerned that it'd be too heavy. So, what is thionite, anyway, and how does it work in this setting? Ja, -n =============================================== "Puripuri puripuri... Bang!"  Quote:Lensman reference: Thionite is The Most Dangerous Drug In The Galaxy, instantly addictive, fatal withdrawl symptoms, fatal over long-term exposure, etc. Basically super-(insert strong narcotic of your choice here).--- Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
Thionite's direct effect is hallucinations somewhat similar to the effects of the Better-Than-Life game from Red Dwarf.
You wind up seeing your every wish and desire fulfilled, however noble or base. The physical effects are fatiguing... the psychological effects can be devestating. In First Lensman, one of the major characters - a man of almost unfathomable integrity and vision takes a dose, once. It takes literally every once of self-control he has not to take another, even in the sure and certain knowledge that taking it would certainly kill him, and even years afterwards just seeing something a similar shade of purple causes him to flinch. Typically, addicts go to great lengths to ensure that they don't have access to a second dose until there has been time for the almost insane self-confidence induced to wear off. Sooner or later they miscalculate however, and overdose. As far as the weight of diamonds go, they have a density between that of aluminium and titanium. On the other hand, though very hard, diamonds apparently aren't terribly tough.D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever. D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever. Quote:No, no, no. CUT! When have you ever seen a mad scientist use a low tech solution when a high tech solution is possible? ![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif) Really why use a pitchfork when you can use a raygun?Also the Professor wouldn't be upset if someone put his inventions to use, unless it was stolen out from under him while he was working on it. If you want him upset about something you would need to: 1) Have the French goverment express their thanks to you. (They have no appreciation for science! (They where the ones calling for his execution the loudest)) 2) Question his credentials, theories, or methodology. 3) Interupt an experiment (and congratulations if you manage to survive that one) 4) Stifle the advanbcement of Science! (censorship, intimidating researchers, etc.) The Professors anger tends to burn hot and quick, and he rarly holds a grudge. The French are an exception, but that might have something to do with them regularly insulting him on the national media. Plus they still have a bounty on him. Though I do like the invention you propose, it sounds about right for his ussual stuff. Quote:I like that idea. E: "Did they... did they just endorse the combination of the JSDF and US Army by showing them as two lesbian lolicons moving in together and holding hands and talking about how 'intimate' they were?" B: "Have you forgotten so soon? They're phasing out Don't Ask, Don't Tell." 
The withdrawal symptoms of thionite aren't absolutely fatal. You're thinking of bloodhype, from the Alan Dean Foster novel of the same name; its high isn't anywhere near as absolute as thionite, but you'll need one hit a day for the rest of your life. That or an incredibly painful and expensive detox course.
--Sam "If that's art, then art is dirty and weird!"
I stand - well, sit - corrected.---
Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
Okay, scratch the suggested cause of disagreement - but keep the mind-probe/follicle-restorer device (it's a license to print money).
But let's go with the Evil Overlord Laughter Contest because it's a surefire winner. Possibly the Professor might have heard Mr. Johnson's expressed opinion that he was "sure that the Professor doesn't actually have any military-grade handwavium. After all there are still nine planets in the Solar System... Eight planets? Are you sure? Hmm, well maybe I'm wrong then. Which one did he blow up? What do you mean Pluto doesn't count as a planet? Well, if you want to tell thirteen yottagrams of fast-moving ice and rock that it isn't a planet, I wouldn't suggest standing in front of it while you do so. Well I guess he doesn't have any then. QED."D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever. D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever. 
Jeeze, you folks are writing this faster than I can read it. I've only gotten about halfway through.
If people do want it, I will create a separate area for this world. Just say the word. -- Bob --------- ...The President is on the line As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...
colaberative between me and blackaeronaut. From his POV. I think it needs another editing pass, but it's good enough for now.
---- As I began to make my way through the process of Con registration, I thought about that wiley Professor and how we had met just a year or so ago... *** "We had a little accident up here and need an emergency delivery of supplies. How many kilograms of coffee could you deliver?" asked the lab-coated man on my monitor. "And mountain dew syrup?" "As much as you can fit on a VW Jetta," I replied. "Which could be fairly substantial if you weren't picky about where and how you packed it on." "That will do," the scientist said eagerly. "We ran out of mountain dew syrup. Which just so happens to be what the engines run on. It's cheaper in bulk per gram of caffeine than coffee you, see." I grinned at that. "Ah, but of course. I can have a full load out to you in... Lets see, where are you at right now?" "Europa. As in the moon, not the continent. Put one little monument to productive use and all of a sudden you become a persona-no-grata." I was suddenly stricken with an explosive case of the snickers. "Oh, so that was you. My hat's off to you then, sir. I can be there with your shipment in about twelve Earth-Hours. Sound good to you?" "That will do. Fifty kilograms of coffee then and 200 liters of mountain dew syrup." "Gotcha then, Prof. Gimme an hour for procurement and about Ten hours transit. I'll have my AI forward you the billing info." This was followed by some highly exuberant form of vocal agreement that consisted of barely intelligible praises to the Fair Mother of Science. With that, the connection was cut and I pinged Gina. "So? We got a job?" she said. "Yup. Fifty kilos of coffee and two hundred liters of 'Dew syrup concentrate." She synthesized an appreciative whistle at that. "It's gonna be a packed-in load." "Not too packed in I think. Anyhow, go ahead and procure the order for me. I'm forwarding the billing information to you now." "No sweat." It did indeed take me all of an hour to get the cargo loaded into the Jetta. Between the trunk and the back seat, I was able to get all eleven five-gallon bag-in-boxes of Dew loaded without a problem. It was as close as I could get to two hundred liters without stiffing the guy. The fifty kilos of Coffee, equivalent to about one hundred and ten pounds, fit easily in the front seat. As opposed to my usual patterns, I didn't sleep through the trip until we hit the Jovian system. I had just come off a full twelve hours of sleep after being awake for nearly thirty-six hours. The first view I had of the Sol Bianca was definitely impressive. At almost 80 meters long, she completely dwarfed Gina. The ship had seen better days though. Odd constructs where sticking out of the once clean white hull, but the clean lines and decorative gilded embellishments were still visible. I shook my head at the sight and sighed. He was probably so busy with other stuff that he didn't have any time to do anything about the state of his ship. At least it wasn't quite as bad as some of the kludge jobs I'd seen, but all the same, the Galaxy Express 999 it was certainly not. Oh well. "Yo, Ben," said the AI all the sudden. "They're hailing us." "Good, so they know we're here. Put 'em on the Driver's Side, would ya?" I said as I reached up and pulled down the LCD display. "Channel's open." "This is Bullet Boy Express to Sol Bianca, inbound with a big shipment of Java and Dew for the Professor. How would ya like me to link up with you?" "Oh thank goodness you are here," said a cute blue haired schoolgirl as she winked onto said display. "I'm opening the hangar bay now. Can you use nav-markers?" I restrained myself from making comments about the kawaii-factor and said, "No sweat, kiddo. Send me the data stream, Gina can handle whatever you chuck at her." "Transmitting now. Welcome aboard the Sol Bianca." *** The packed, silver VW Jetta swung neatly and nimbly into the docking bay, oddly resembling the DeLorian from the Back To The Future movies because of the way the wheels went from being vertical thrusters to normal wheels as it touched down. The only difference here was that I didn't have about a half-ton of nuclear fusion reactor in the back. That was in the engine compartment instead. How the hell the Handwavium had turned the Volkswagen internal combustion engine into a fusion turbine equivalent was beyond me. It probably hadn't help that I was severely sleep deprived at the time I was working on it. Once Gina gave me the all clear, I got out and stretched my legs. As packed in as it was in there, I at least didn't have to put myself through any discomfort to make this delivery. But still, ten hours is ten hours and it feels very good to get an almighty-big stretch that would put any and all neko-girls to shame. Speaking of girls, I didn't expect to be greeted by two worried looking examples of the species, one of which immediately went of with a BIB of syrup. I definitely didn't expect her to be in such a hurry that she tore the lid of my trunk off. "You have to forgive Catty," said the other as I stared in shock at the hatchway she'd disappeared through. "We aren't quite sure how much longer the backup generator will hold out. We will of course cover the repairs." "Ah, okay then," I said as I began to realize what was next. "But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." "SHE DID WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?" screamed the AI on the stereo system, causing all in the area-of-effect to wince. "Let me at her! I'll kill her!" continued Gina, well on her way to a rant session and revving the fusion turbine for effect. "No, I'll torture her and then kill her!" "While I agree her haste is unbecoming, that seems a little extreme," said the girl. "We will of course do everything we can to apologize for her behavior... Oh I'm sorry I didn't get your name, I'm Miyu, the girl who just left is Catty." "Uh, the name's Ben, this is Gina, and excuse me while I stop her from going on a homicidal rampage." I then went to the front of the car and place my hands down on the hood, as though I could really stop her if she got it in her head to cause some mayhem. "Gina, it's okay, I'll fix it. Happy place, Gina. Remember your happy place?" At that moment the door opened and the blue haired girl who greeted me, entered. "Oh my I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said cheerfully. "I wanted to thank you for the speedy delivery. I hope you will stay a while, it is not often that we get visitors." "killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill" uttered the AI inanely despite what was going on. "Ah, yeah, thanks, just give me a moment to calm Gina down here." The blue hair girl then did something that was either very stupid or very gutsy. She Walked up to the car, gently rested her hand on it, and smiled. "Come now I'm sure there isn't a reason to be so upset." "SHE DAMAGED MY BODY!" raved Gina as she threw the front end up on the hydraulics. "I know she did, Gina!" I said desperately - a half ton of Handwavium-enhanced space-faring automobile was not something I needed rampaging around in here. "I promise I'll fix it right away! I'll even throw in a new wax and tire job!" Suddenly, she became silent. "Throw in a tune up and I MIGHT! reconsider." I sighed with a combination of relief and exasperation. "Deal." Relaxing slightly now that her fellow crew member was no longer being threatened Miyu stepped closer. "I already told you Gina-san we will take care of everything." In response to that, Gina only harrumphed. "Why don't I show you to your quarters?" said Ryoko, turning to me. "You must be tired after such a long trip. We prepared the royal guest suite for you." I sighed once more now that the adrenaline was starting to die down a bit. "Yes thank you. And I'd advise that you just go ahead and let me handle the repairs. Gina is extremely particular about who handles that sort of business." "As you wish Ben-san, though if we can be of any help please don't hesitate to ask." Answered Miyu. "Thank you. Soooo, where is this Professor fellow anyways?" I could feel the big, shit-eating grin begin to form on my face. "I wanted to thank him personally for pantsing so many tight-asses on Earth." "He is unfortunately still asleep. We didn't want to try waking him without coffee. do you mind if we finish unloading without you here?" For a brief moment, imagery of another incident occurring and Gina going absolutely nuts blowing the Sol Bianca to hell flitted through my head. "Ahh, I'd better help." "Very well." Walking over to the wall mounted communicator she called out, "Catty please get back here. We need to unload the supplies." Suiting action to deed in a manner of moments the car was emptied between the four of them. And, after a pointed elbow from Miyu, Catty cheerfully apologized to Gina. The AI had only barely and grudgingly accepted the apology. With that out of the way, Ryoko led the way to my room chattering cheerfully all the while about the history of the ship and whatever experiment she caught me eying. The Interior of the Sol Bianca was surreal, even for a fenspace ship. The hallway was very posh with a very nice looking carpet on the floors and wood paneling on the walls, but the beauty was marred by various hodgepodge additions. There where tubes with bubbling fluids in them,circuit boards mounted on the walls with blinking lights, one section even looked organic, and some of the rooms I looked into seemed larger than they should be, though it could just be an optical illusion. The quarters themselves where without doubt the most expensive suite I had ever stayed at, almost everything being made from hardwood, and with tasteful gilding and the window gave a spectacular view of Jupiter. "Thank you kindly, Ryoko," I said as I turned back to my guide. "Would it be possible for you to send a tool kit to the dock in a couple hours?" "Of course, if you need anything just use the intercom. I assume you'll also be needing tires and a waxing machine?" "Whatever you could supply would be appreciated, thank you." "You are welcome. Good night." Once I was alone, I kicked off my shoes, ditched my Rocketeer jacket on the couch and hit the hay. When I awoke, I checked the time - it'd been about five hours. I was actually more used to sleeping in short bursts like this rather than the long twelve hour naps, and so I crawled out of bed, slipped the shoes and jacket back on, and gave the intercom a buzz. "I hope you slept well," answered Ryoko. "Gina is a fascinating conversationalist. Everything you should need is in the hangar. Do I need to come fetch you or can you find the way here by yourself?" That made me blink in mild surprise. Usually when Gina talks to someone it's to cause general mayhem. I would have to look into this and make certain that she did not scare off a potential regular. "No thank you, I can find it on my own." *** I could have sworn that the hangar was over here, I thought to myself, as I wandered past Tesla Coils that I hadn't noticed yesterday. I did, however, hear some muttering and a banging noise that signified someone at work. Since I was not one of those cliche types of men who never stops for directions, I figured I could ask whoever was making that racket... As long as he didn't mind being disturbed. I followed the sounds, dodging the occasional light-show from the coils, and opened the door from which the noises came. Suddenly I ducked just in time as something flew over my head, propelled by a mighty explosion to embed itself in the wall behind me. Turning back around and looking into the room there was a somewhat charred individual in a lab coat, grinning from ear to ear. "It worked! It worked! Well sort of, but this is just the first step, no challenge is too great for the Power of SCIENCE!" "That's great and all, Professor Toasty," I chimed in, "but can it direct me to where I parked my car?" "Oh sorry I didn't see you there," said the seemingly mad scientist in a quite congenial manner. "You should be careful. There are all kinds of dangerous things down here, like those." He said pointing to a bunch of broken containers with bio-hazard signs. I blinked at that and I began to get very worried. "Oh no not again." He then sighed and went on, "I'll lead you to the hangar, I need to head over there to brew up the counter-agent anyway." "..... Should I be worried? I'm not about to be attacked by radioactive spiders or something, am I?" "Oh no, the worst that will happen is that your hair turns green and get sudden cravings for bratwurst." I suddenly had the most peculiar imagery of Kyouichi Saionji from Revolutionary Girl Utena going hog-wild on brats. "Quite a disappointment. It was meant to help remove the language barrier by having everyone speak Engrish, but instead it causes people to speak French. Bah" "Oh? And who would be so deserving of such a fate?" I asked, a smile creeping across my face at the thought of certain 'Danelaw politicians being affected by such a thing. *** And so it went back then. What followed was a month long series of collaborative projects in which I finally managed to arm Gina as I had always wanted to and got my bio-mod done. It would be nice to get to see him again and catch up with what he's been up to. I noted in the Con schedule that he was going to be giving a speech and resolved to be there to hear it - he was such a fun motivational speaker. So, with registration out of the way, I began to make my way to a the bar. This was gonna be problematic because not only was I a BNF, but, through a lucky draw from the genetic deck, I was a natural born bishounen. In fact, no sooner than I got into the main concourse did I hear a fuku-clad girl squeal. "IT'S RUHODESU-SAMA!!!" Oh boy. Time to run... E: "Did they... did they just endorse the combination of the JSDF and US Army by showing them as two lesbian lolicons moving in together and holding hands and talking about how 'intimate' they were?" B: "Have you forgotten so soon? They're phasing out Don't Ask, Don't Tell."
> If people do want it, I will create a separate area for this world. Just say the word.
Eh, keeping it on a single thread may make it difficult to reference but it also maintains a certain manic intensity that it suits, IMHO. D for Drakensis You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
Ok, here's my part and, because I'm bad with Koizumi, I'll be taking a lot of inspiration from M Fnord's post. I hope none of you mind.
--- I waved a quick goodbye to the Professor and his assistants before turning back to Koizumi. For some reason, his smile made me think he found me amusing, in a "I know more than you" kind of way. "Hello Koizumi. I'm Laurent Veilleux and this is Taesha..." "Just Taesha." I glanced at Taesha, puzzled at the interruption, before shrugging and looking straight at Koizumi, obviously waiting for him to tell me why he came to me. His smile widened annoyingly and gestured for us to follow him as he walked towards a more secluded part of the shop. We followed him and, after a quick glance around, Koizumi began, "Captains, I was sent to request your assistance." I arched an eyebrow, traded a glance with Taesha and, seeing that she was as clueless as me, replied, "I can't see what you would need the both of us for, then. Taesha and I have very little in common." "We - that is, the SOS-dan - would like you and your crew to support Miss Suzumiya's initiative tomorrow. More to the point, we would like you to support the initiative even if it fails to win the vote." My bewilderment with the oddly smiling man grew even more, "Why?" "You both have some notoriety amongst the Fen. You, captain Taesha, are fairly well known for the way you left earth and you, captain Veilleux, have one of the most recognised crews." I groaned. I should really have known that most of my reputation was due to the Drones. Koizumi just kept talking, "Additionally, you and your crews have skills that may be necessary." Taesha snorted, "You still haven't given any good information y'know? Like Lau said, we don't have much in common so I can't see what you could need the both of us for." Koizumi smiled again (I really hate that smile) and explained, in an annoyingly roundabout way, that the SOS-dan had acquired significant information regarding the raiders and were planning on organizing a taskforce to deal with them permanently. I just looked at him like he had just grown a new head. I mean, I could understand that he'd seek out Taesha, she and her crew were pretty good bounty hunters, but, "I'm just a fucking kludger, not a fighter!" Taesha snorted, "Remember the Drunken Harlock?" "One bar brawl does not make me a fighter." I waved my hands around for emphasis. "The Dancing Shinobi." "Oh all right, two brawls then." She just coughed. I grumbled, "Oh alright, more than that, but I was barely able to walk away from most of them." She laughed back, "You're usually the only one that can walk away from them." "Er... I only did so well because I cheated. I even use my tools as weapons." "Lau, I saw you beat a Zanbatou wielding psycho with a sledge hammer." I raised my finger, and froze, unable to find a counter argument that would not be a lie. "See? You're way stronger than you look." I looked down at myself, and then back up at Taesha, "That's just because I work almost constantly with Handwavium. And anyway, my ship couldn't fight raiders." Taesha guffawed, "Ah! You have the Drone catapult and there's no ship that can survive a group of Drones on board for long. Well, except yours anyway." Oh come on, none of my Drones are crazy or suicidal enough to launch themselves at an hostile ship. Taesha looked at me oddly, and pointed towards the nearby storefront window. I turned my head to look, and was presented with the odd sight of a Drone balancing several meters off the ground from a rope attached to its neck. It was also in the process of waving a sign that read, Please kill me. I sat there looking at the Drone for a full minute before turning back to Taesha, Why do you want me to do this so much anyway? Heck, why do YOU want to do it for free? Taeshas face lost all traces of humour, and I suddenly knew that something was wrong. Taesha NEVER stopped looking like she was having fun unless the situation was serious. She sighed, Thats why I was looking for you. Gabes nowhere to be found, and I havent been able to contact him for months. Oh, shit. Gabe was a very successful asteroid ferrying specialist, and a good friend of Taesha and I. Knowing him, he wouldnt miss the convention for all the money in the galaxy and would, in fact, have arrived a long time before I ever did, Damn, now I have to look for a new supplier. I dont think Taesha appreciated my attempt at dark humour because next thing I knew, she had grabbed my head and, *WHAM* Introduced it to the table. She had begun lifting my head and I was getting ready for the second impact when Koizumi interrupted Taesha, Please, he clearly meant to alleviate the atmosphere. Taesha reluctantly let go of my head, and we both slightly reddened, suddenly reminded that there had been a spectator for our antics. Taesha cleared her throat and looked straight at Koizumi, studiously ignoring me, Count me in. She then stood up and marched away. I looked at her for a moment, regretting my words a bit. That regret is probably what caused me to also express my support for the SOS-dan. Koizumi smiled, thanked me, and left. I spent a moment alone, looking at my empty cup, before I left as well. For a few minutes, I wandered around aimlessly, before I spotted a bar, The Tipsy Senshi huh? I felt a strong need for a drink at that moment, so I walked in. *** There you go. If anyone wants to witness or participate in a session of drunken fisticuffs, just tell me, Im always up for a collaborative post.
in re: Jusenkyo changes for handwavium...
I would ask that the changes not be instantaneous, and involve no change in actual mass, so we can keep them in the realm of the scientifically defensible (barely, mind - We really have no need for any more than barely, but it's nice to be there.) I'd *suggest* that it also involve some strange physical sensations - his/her body's being moved in strange ways after all - but if the 'wave can pull a male to female and back again switch just because, then cutting out the information that would usually run up the sensory nerves is *trivial*.
Sirrocco:
Conservation of mass sounds perfectly reasonable, ja. Besides which, moving from a large male to a small female would be *more than a bit* embarrasing. In an ICly defense for not noticing it slightly earlier (instantaneous / sensations or no) I was busy running away from Stan / into random passersby. ![[Image: wink.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/wink.gif)
Hm, well, if the CIA's on Castle Magellan, what's NASA up to out there?
----- It's a truism of life: Bureaucrats, of any stripe, mix with Fen like oil and water. NASA bureaucrats, at least, have the benefit of fifty plus years of interfacing between Washington 'danecrats and the First Fandom. This means they are used to working with people who are just a little bit nuts. It doesn't help much when, say, The Professor drops in to borrow a few kilos of plutonium, but they get along better than most Suits. First Fandom, you ask? Well, think about it. There are basically three kinds of non-Suits in NASA. I call them the Picards, the Sinclairs, and the Glovals. The Picards are the real scientists, the ones who like to poke their noses into places just to find out how they work. Sinclairs are the ones backing projects like Mars Terraforming, because their main objective is to get the human race's eggs out of that one fragile little basket. And the Glovals are the ones who just know that sooner or later, we're going to run into Trouble Out There, and that we're going to need more than harsh words if we're going to survive in any condition we'd enjoy once we do. All of them are Fen at heart, it's just that instead of Trek or Wars or Bab or whatever, their Fandom is space itself. Which leads us to the particular branch I was visiting this particular day. Their assigned function is to investigate the wonders of the 'wave -- specifically, they take 'waved devices, take them apart, and figure out how they work, so that we can duplicate them with hardtech and design our own variations on them. They're the ones who built the atmosphere recyclers I use in the new Rockhouses, and they helped design some of the mining equipment used on them. Their official name is the Transrationality Scientific Analysis Bureau -- 'NASFans' if you like them, 'IPX' if you don't. I think I'm the only one who actually calls them the TSAB, it might have something to do with the spiffy blue uniforms I sent them last Christmas. Amy O'Connell, my chief contact there, caught on almost immediately, and wears the things as often as she can get away with... which I encourage as much as possible, every time I see her in them. She's 5'6" of willowy Irish-American redhead, which dings so many of my buttons that the uniform just made the obvious inevitable. Today was no different, and the sight of her sent my brain looping for a second before I could catch myself. I'd stopped off at their Ell-Four HQ on the way to the Con, more to invite her to tag along than anything else, really... "Oh, ah, hey, Amy," I stammered out, catching myself just before I could stumble into her desk. "Lovely weather outside, hey?" "It's two hundred and seventy below, Chris, just like it always is," she retorted. It was a dumb question and I knew it, but it was also habit, and she'd given me the same answer a hundred times now. "Glad you came by, though. Coffee?" "You know perfectly well I don't touch the stuff, Amy... but if there's any cocoa to be had, well..." I waggled a hand, shrugged. The ritual of empty questions completed, I sat myself down to take in the view... er, well, you know what I mean. "So," she finally said, after an assistant had brought in coffee and cocoa, and we were sitting together across the little conference table. "I hear someone's calling a Convention." We chatted about that for a bit, and I filled her in on what little I knew of the SOS-dan (nothing, although I did pass on some idle speculation I'd picked up from cross-chatter on the way in). She filled me in on some of the recent research projects (they'd finally figured out how to build a couple of really nifty widgets, it seems, but still hadn't figured out just how they actually worked). The appetizers completed, we got down to the meat of the business. "We need," she said, "Another Rock." And she gave me that Look, the one that said she really means business this time, the old 'what NASA wants, NASA will eventually get if we have to get out and farking push' look. "Ah, Amy, hon," I temporized for a moment. "NASA's already got five. And my client list's a mile long, you know what the demand for orbital habitattery is like these days. The waiting list's about a year long." She shook her head, sending those beautiful crimson locks flying just enough to catch my attention. "We're going to have to jump the queue, then, Chris. This one's coming down from Upstairs." Which meant the 'danecrats were breathing down necks about it. Frell, I thought, and tried to concentrate on the business instead of staring at what I fondly hoped I could one day call my girlfriend. "I have contracts, Amy, my word is on those Rocks. I can't yank one, not even for -- " "Not even for national security?" That one wasn't Amy. That one was Colonel Caldwell, US Air Force, chief of security and operations at Ell-Four. "Or should I upgrade it to 'planetary security'? Besides, if this works out the way we're hoping, you won't have to." There are some fen who wouldn't balk at either of those, but I wasn't one of them. I took a deep breath, reigned in my temper, and nodded. "Alright. Make your pitch, Colonel." He did. "It's ... ambitious, to say the least. And don't think I didn't catch that whole 'potential recruits' part. There are plenty of fen who'd take you seriously... they'd just prefer not to have 'danes in charge of it." Wow, but it was ambitious, alright. And dangerous. If Caldwell's intel was right, then there might be enough time to get ready for what was coming down the pipe... I hoped, oh, how I hoped, he was wrong. You know what they say about that, of course. Prepare for the worst, and you'll never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised. "The question, son, is can you do your part of this?" I looked at him, looked over at Amy, looked down at the plan spec sheet he'd shown me. "Uhm. I can find you a suitable Rock, sure, but the rest of it... mmf. I may need to do some 'wave-work, getting it prepped to that level, discreetly, is going to take some work." Amy nodded, and added, "We're prepared to authorize you to recruit some assistance, so long as they can work, as you say, discreetly." Well... I knew just where all the possible help for a project like this was going to be, for the next week or so. Which meant I had the beginnings of a plan to cover my part of this. And that meant I had the time to work up the courage for the next step while I was supposedly thinking it through. "Alright, then... Amy, how'd you like to go to a Con with me? Meet some ... discreet people?" "Why, I'd love to."-- "I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered... R! DOROTHY! WAYNERIGHT! -- Sucrose Octanitrate. Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
ECS: It doesn't apply in this situation, but it occurs to me that your character does have *one* rock that he could part with if he needed to, and not break his word to anyone. He'd absolutely *hate* the idea, but if it absolutely, positively, no-choice came down to that or break his word to a client... well, it depends on how much his word is worth to him.
Sirrocco: As indicated, Colonel Caldwell (and yes, it may well be THAT Colonel Caldwell, at the very least I'm borrowing him for the duration) Has Other Plans.
-- "I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered... R! DOROTHY! WAYNERIGHT! -- Sucrose Octanitrate. Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode. Quote:Heh. It would be cool if it looked like that. Unfortunately, I went with a cheap way of getting space. A semi cab...and semi trailers. Lots of them. Decent used ones can be gotten fairly cheaply, and I could get away with older ones for this. I'd just need a lot of space, since I'd be welding them all together for the main body. The Fateful Lightning doesn't tend to come down to Earth - or any other solid body - that often. She's big enough to have a bit of parking space for a Toyota Tercel that's used as a shuttle. The Lightning has three main sections: the Lab and the Garden, the Living Quarters, and the Workshop/Garage. Each section is three trailers wide and four long, with the Living Quarters being in the center, the Lab on the left, and the Workshop on the right. That gives a ton of viable space within - each section runs around 5400 square feet, before you rough in walls and the like. Each section is overseen by one of the Sisters. They started out as high-end computer systems that I filled with as much lore on the Greek Fates as possible - including stories about them from modern SF/fantasy. Each one of them also got a complete set of the Ah! My Goddess! shows, and whatever data I felt was needed for their individual sections. I WAS deliberately hoping to wake them as AIs, and tried to set the stage as much as possible beforehand. Clotho is in charge of the Lab and Garden, and helps serve as lab assistant and monitor. Personality-wise, she's bright and upbeat, with a voice that sounds like a college-age young woman. She pouts if she doesn't get her daily horoscope, and insists on doing a weekly Tarot reading for those on board, just to see where things are standing. Lachesis is the Mother archetype for the Sisters and is in charge of the Living Quarters. Her personality tends to be motherly, not surprising, and her voice has a vaguely Irish lilt to it. She monitors general ship's functions to make sure nothing goes wrong. In the way of quirks, she HAS to be doing something most of the time. When time is slow, she actually spins and weaves, having a wheel and loom set up that can be controlled remotely. Atropos is in charge of the Workshop and Garage. She's usually in charge of the bigger drones, and is the weapon's officer for the ship. Personality-wise, she comes across as someone's grandmother, and her voice is based off a filker friend of mine, Juanita Coulson. One major quirk of hers is that she plays the stock market - fortunately, penny stocks. Still, she's rather good at it. I suspect she has Fate's help. Fate is a fourth computer system set up in the semi cab. She handles navigation and whatever else needs doing. Her system actually links the other three so that all of them are aware of what is happening in the ship, and while a separate entity in her own right, part of this AI consists of a gestalt of the other three. Personality-wise, she's calm, and tends to be slightly mysterious. Her voice is actually a Greek chorus, the voices of the three Sisters speaking as one. She's SO good at analyzing situations and data that my avatar often suspects that she might actually be able to see the future. She certainly plays the role of Oracle to the hilt, loving to give somewhat cryptic replies about what the future will bring. The Workshop section has the parking space for the Tercel, as well as some extra space in case company comes calling. It's the drone garage, and has various odds and ends for cobbling together new drones/equipment that I might need. It has a car-sized airlock at the rear of the bay, as well as several smaller locks along the side to pop out drones. This is also the engineering section, containing the drive for the ship. The Living Quarters are decent - more space than furnishings, though this is slowly being corrected as time passes. There are areas set up for food and water storage in this section, as well as a smaller man-sized airlock in the rear. At the front of the bay, a metal corridor leads out to the semi cab, connecting to the right-hand door of the cockpit area. The Lab is where most of the paying work gets done. Handwavium culturing, grow chambers for various experiments as well as large freezers for cell and tissue cultures and seed banks. Basically, it has everything a good mad scientist would need for biomodding, and some of the equipment has been upgraded with handwavium as well. Probably the most unique portion of the ship is the Garden, which is the rear half of the Lab section. It was designed to be a retreat against being cooped up in space/a giant box with no access to the outdoors. Set up with murals of outdoor scenes on the walls, as well as a sun spectrum moving lamp on the ceiling and hidden sprinklers, then everything covered with handwavium, soil and then plants added. It was initially a disappointment - though the garden itself was nice, it didn't hide that you were in a box. That was before the main quirk of the area was discovered; the entire area has taken up the belief that blood lends fertility to the land. Specifically, my avatar's blood, since the entire ship is his domain. The first time he scratched himself on a rose bush and got some blood on the ground, the area awoke fully. The next time he came in, you could no longer tell that it was a box. With the door shut, it appeared to be a landscaped clearing in the outdoors. The actual size had not changed; you could still touch the walls. But the optical illusion makes it look like an open area. Clouds can be seen to move in the 'sky', and at night there are stars and a moon. To keep the Garden happy, it needs a periodic feeding of blood; fortunately, it's not too thirsty. A symbolic few drops every few days seems to satisfy it and keep the illusion going. Since my avatar is diabetic and checks his blood sugar, he tends to do that in the Garden so that he can feed his glucometer and the handwavium at the same time. Let's see....what else. There are various radio-controlled drones that the AIs use to keep the ship going. Most of them are from toy stores and upgraded with handwavium. Why try to cobble together a drone when toymakers have already made perfectly good ones - just add goo. A small dome has been added to the roof of the Living Quarters, reached from a spiral staircase in the main area. This is used mainly for stargazing. There's more to the ship; there's a lot in my head that's still being organized, including a lot of the background for how she was built. But this gives at least a brief overview of the place, so people will know what I'm talking about when I set other scenes aboard her. Any comments/ideas/critiques are welcome. Quote:Minor quibble: Glovals sound more like regular Air Force & Navy types than NASA. (Case in point, ex-SDIO chief Gen. Pete "Darth" Worden, lord of the DC-X program.) Despite pulling much of the astronaut corps from the armed services, NASA's pretty well devoted to peaceful operations. It might make more sense to make TSAB a straight Pentagon arm like DARPA or SDIO, just because a military research op would have more money to spend on asteroid collecting than NASA. YMMV, though. That said, TSAB's a neat idea (logical, too, considering) & I look forward to seeing their antics in the future. (Another random thought. A minor fen fraction made up of fans/supporters/disciples of Jerry Pournelle, "Jerry's Kids" to the ignorant masses, who're some of the few fen with patriotic feelings toward the 'danelaw. Big supporters of the USAF ops at L4. Feasible?)--- Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!" Quote:I envision it as a joint USAF/DARPA/NASA project, actually. And yeah, a lot of the Gloval types are military. They get along with the Sinclairs pretty well, and both of them politely tolerate the Picards. (Some Fen who are less discerning about 'danes tend to lump the Glovals and Sinclairs together as "Kirks", but that's considered a mild insult in Fenspace, and my avatar's more polite than that.) As for TSAB's location in the 'danecrat organizational chart, well, NASA asked first... and had the contacts with people (like me) to provide them with a Rock to play around in. The head of the TSAB is technically a civilian, he's actually a (formerly retired) Air Force astronaut. (I was briefly tempted to have this be Sam Carter, but I'm not sure how many SG-1 riffs I want to toss into this.)-- "I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered... R! DOROTHY! WAYNERIGHT! -- Sucrose Octanitrate. Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
Well, it'd make more sense if it was a straight DoD project and not directly connected to any of the services, but hey.
Hm.. this brings to mind a question. If the Americans have an org like TSAB, surely the other major powers have similar? Fandom won't bitch as long as they mostly stay in Earth orbit, though I have trouble believing that the USGov elements would play nicely with others.--- Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!" 
They're at Lagrange 4? Okay, I'll have to edit one of my previous posts, then.
More, heavier things... Master's Slave sat on the bed in the cabin that New Master had led her to, and wore the jacket that he had given her. She hope that he would be pleased with the modifications she had made to it. She strode over to the full length mirror framed in dark stained wood and critically examined herself. Her dark hair cascaded down to the small of her back in gentle waves, framing her nearly symmetrical face. Her catlike ears stood proud and alert on top of her head. She smiled at her voluptuous figure and her tail snaking out from the hole she'd cut in the back of the former jacket. It now resembled a cross between a race queen dress and a Victorian military uniform. She knew that she'd lost several things trying to prevent Old Master from harming her littermates... she shook her head and tried to remember why calling them her littermates sounded wrong. She adjusted the opening at the collar of the jacket/dress until she thought Master would be pleased with her appearance. She arranged herself artfully on the bed according to her training. She felt another pang at that, and was vaguely able to remember crafting the device Old Master had used to train her as a slave. She couldn't remembr what she had been like before Old Master had used the device to maker her and her littermates. When she thought of what she had been, it became a generic humanoid figure driving a taxi. She felt a burst of pride that she remembered her skills from before, if not how she got them. Surely New Master would find her useful! And she would prove herself to Master with all the skills she had. From her navigational and linguistic skills to the conditioning Old Master had given her, everything she had would be given to New Master. Maybe Master would be pleased enough with her performance to give her a name! He already had given her clothes, so she knew that Master cared for her. She smiled when she heard master's steps in the hallway and prepared herslf for his arival. "Master's Slave" is the pilot of the Checker Cab and is intended to be a tragic figure, but also a source of comedy. As she is now, she is very DearS-like in her appreciation of her relationship to her "Master," Captain Corcoran. She will eventually get a name [it's already picked out], but it will result in even more craziness. I see her previous life as having been a tour driver like Corcoran was before he bought the Pinafore. The cab is a 1982 Checker in New York City livery. Very roomy and more comfortable than if she had been driving a modern cab. She had made a Handwavium device that let her learn languages rapidly by effectively downloading a CD or DVD Berlitz course directly into her brain. "Doctor Moreau" had taken control this device and downloaded certain movies that shall remain left to the reader's imaginations, but would include e-texts or movie versions of the Gor books... I may just synopsis the plot points that will get the Pinafore to the Con: The marshal takes the scumbag from the brig to be dealt with, but informs the Dobbses that they have too much Handwavium still active in their bodies to be allowed back dirtside. Thomas and Allison join the Crew. The marshal also brings a rep from the TSAB aboard and Captain Corcoran receives letters of marque from the United States government, signed by the President Him/herself. {depending on who we want, storywise, to win the 2008 election} I almost want Captain Corcoran to be the one who transports the SOS-dan to the Con, or is the one who brings Mikuru back from an errand on the Moon. Nevertheless, he does bring 8 fen and a cargo of Doritos along. ''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.'' -- James Nicoll
There's room for more than one Rock at a LaGrange point... although there's some blue-sky talk between NASA and a couple of larger Fen groups about putting in some very large space stations at each. A Rock is, typically, about a kilometer across.--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered... R! DOROTHY! WAYNERIGHT! -- Sucrose Octanitrate. Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode. Quote:On that note, here's my preliminary accounting of where everything is that's been mentioned so far in the stories & elsewhere, so's we can all try & keep track: Mercury - n/a Venus Stations: Castle Magellan Fractions: Senshi Earth Orbit Stations: ISS, the Island, Dolomite Mining Asteroids #1-n Fractions: Mundanes (various), Independents Earth-Moon Lagrange Point L4 Stations: TSAB station (name pending) Fractions: Mundanes (USAF) Earth-Moon Lagrange Point L5 Stations: (pending - somebody's got to be there, though) Fractions: (ditto) Luna Stations: Port Luna (nee Tranquility Base), Kandor, Moonbase Alpha Fractions: Mundanes, Independents Mars Orbit Stations: Phobos Station, Deimos Station Fractions: Independents Mars Stations: Helium, Utopia Planitia, Mos Eisely, Castle Wulfenbach Fractions: Independents (Mars Terraforming Project), Martian Warlords, Trekkies, Warsies Main Belt Stations: SSX-Base (6565 Reiji), Village of Hidden Asteroid (498 Tokio) Fractions: Space Pirates, Heinleinians, Hidden Asteroid, Discordians, Belters, Independents Jupiter - n/a Saturn - n/a Uranus - n/a Neptune - n/a Kupier Belt Stations: Comet mining facilities (mentioned but not named)--- Mr. Fnord http://fnord.sandwich.net/ http://www.jihad.net/ Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information "I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!" |
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