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
"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