Plotbunny for sale - cheap

[Rieverre]

Hmm ... Acyl, would you consider putting in magnetized railroad tracks that go across the island, going past or maybe even through Bay Two?

---

Generally, I don't really trust the goop of the spaceways. Or maybe I'm not willing to trust in using _just_ the goop. I started out with Solid State 'wavetech. Hell, I airlifted and spacefared over those first few months with Solid State 'wavetech.
Call me sentimental.
Oh?
Yeah, well, you can work around those limitations ... or at least, I can. It's pretty much a given that, if you're working with any sort of 'wavium, you'll get some sort of package that lets you understand the stuff on a basic level. Running theory is harmonic resonance of the 'wavium with the user's aura or somesuch junk.
In other words, it's sort of a 'gadgeteer upgrade' I guess.
Or should that be 'mad scientist'? In some cases, definitely. Just look at the Prof. Make sure to wear sunglasses, though. That last detonation was damn bright.
I guess I got 'idiot savant', because ... okay, here's a secret. I don't really have clue on how these things work, beyond broad hints. Just about whether or not something will or won't. No, nothing like inspiration.
I've _felt_ inspiration. This isn't it.
This is ... well, this is me being the monkey sat in front of the typewriter and coming up with Macbeth after punching random keys.
For some reason, I do my best work with shields and other energy fields. It's how Uncertainty got to orbit and back those first few times without any goop coating to keep the air in - navigational deflectors and a structural integrity field that doubled as containment - as well as the basis for her energy sails, among other things.
So I wasn't really making myself too comfortable - I knew the cars were isolated and had been 'wavium coated as the basis of the process. I also knew Maetel was about as likely to take risks about her passengers and cargo as it was for the Sun to fizzle out tomorrow, so that was some measure of comfort right right there.
Passengers? Yeah, well, tourists are a universal constant. Almost as much of one as Jenova's ... err ... Jehovah's Witnesses, and only slightly less annoying.
And if you've got those, you've got a fair number who want to travel in comfort and style. Two things that the Galaxy Express has in spades, plus possibly the only automated 'wavium kitchen that produces not only edible but actually tasty results.
This is doubly true when there's been a Convention notice - there are always those who'd like to see how the Fen party. At the very least, reporters will show up. We've got a loosely defined deal with Space(formerly Sky) News Australia that makes us a pretty penny in petty cash whenever there's something up in the lands of Above and Beyond.
We came up on Phobos in a matter of hours, without many delays - another reason to travel with the supplies would be that it gets you to the head of the queue without much fuss. The admins know well enough how rowdy and ... inventive ... a gathering of Fen low on snackage can get - and got directed into the main hangar space where the cargo was unloaded and the passegers were welcomed by the first site of most likely the biggest damn cave they'd ever seen.
It didn't really have artificial gravity - too little use for it, really - so we had to deal with a few cases of space-sickness before we got going.
"Now, a few basic rules for those who've not been in open Fenspace before," Maetel was lecturing as we floated over to the lifts. "Staring is considered either rude of complimentory on a case-by-case basis, but nobody will likely object to pictures. If you don't know what it is, you really shouldn't touch it ..."
"Or eat it, or drink it, or poke it with a stick," I chimed in. We were hit with a solid Gee of acceleration which promptly turned into a comfortable point eight worth of artificial gravity when the turbolift equivalent brought us to the promenade deck.
"Yes, or all that. Also, 'do not enter' signs are usually there for a reason."
"Frankly, considering the odds, you'll be considered lucky to just find hard vacuum on the other side."
"Quite. Peanut gallery, please be quiet," she said, amusedly, as we vacated the lift. I kepy my mouth shut and my eyes scanning around for things and people of interest while she finished, and directed the gaggle of mundies to an information booth. The few Fen who'd caught a ride with the Express for one reason or another quickly ignored that and mingled.
We finally had a bit of space to ourselves, and must have made for a bit of a peculiar image - Maetel was wearing a white version of her usual, looking all aloof and composed, while I was playing contrast by being decked out in black casual and being my usual scruffy self.
"So, do you have any plans?" I asked as we made our way through the still sparse Fendom. More would be arriving by the minute, but the promenade was large enough that it wouldn't become cramped for a while yet.
And _somebody_ had supplied the overhead screen-ceiling - which usually furthered the illusion of open space for Phobos' inhabitants by virtue of projecting Mars' sky based on tranmissions being relayed from one of the surface outposts - with imagery from Saturn.
Nifty.
"Oh? No, none, really. The Galaxy Express and I are here for the duration and already booked for the return trip, or so I suppose," she replied, before we were interrupted.

---

-Griever
ETA: editsu
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[CattyNebulart]

Gah, this is terrible, all exposition.
---
Guzzling the cup of coffee next to me I set about answering the emails that Ryoko had set aside until after I got some rest. Mostly it where the usual questions about how handwavium worked, and requests for experiments beyond The Limit. I put the later aside, we would have to go back beyond The Limit after the convention, at least with the new engine it wouldn't take a month to get out there. Currently the Sol Bianca was cruising at a quarter c, almost ten times faster than she has ever moved before inside The Limit. Now if only using the engine didn't cause radioactive spiders to appear. Oh well at least it didn't have any quirks when it wasn't being used. Sending off the answers along with a request for some materials to be delivered t, and faster than anything this big ever movedo Phobos while I was there anyway. I'm lucky my sister got me this freelance job at Northrop Grumman Corporation, this way I can get supplies for my research easily and only need to spend a few hours a month answering some simple questions about handwavium. Some interesting ideas regarding what would happen when handwavium and plutonium where combined in certain ways had been going around on the mailing lists, and it definitely merited further experimentation.
Kicking a spider that tries to bite me aside I go and check that the navigational system isn't too drunk and that we are still on course. I will need to stock up on more Jack Daniels, the navigation system seems more reliable with it.
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."

[drakensis]

transferredD for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[The Hunterminator]

Ok, just for reference, the quirks that the Schrottplatz exhibits are mainly amongst the crew of drones. Basically, the drones are waist high robots with a camera, a speaker and a microphone strapped together to make a head and they tend to reproduce. On top of that, there are various factions that tend to conflict amongst each other, such as the AllCapist drones who like it when things are LOUD.
There's also Gramps, the first drone and the one who built the ship's engine, and also the only one that understands it. Speaking of the engine, it tends to be lazy and go to sleep, so unless you keep it entertained, it'll suddenly fall asleep and stop working.
Another type of drone running, there's Penny and her fellow capitalist drones who tend to consider the Schrottplatz a merchant ship. They are, for example, planning to sell alcohol and snacks at the convention.
There are other types of drones but I haven't thought of them yet. Sorry, nothing else right now, I don't have much time to write, I'll probably write more tomorrow.

[drakensis]

Let's set up some rough scales then, using the 40 astronomical unit measurement out to the Limit as our baseline.
At lightspeed, this would take about 5 hours to travel. If the typical speed is 50% then it would take 10 hours to cover this distance.
Mars is between 0.5 and 2.5 AU away from the Earth. This would take from 7 minutes to 35 minutes to travel a 50% lightspeed. Now that I work that out, that's just too little time.
If it takes from 1 to 5 days to travel to Mars from Earth, then it will take months to reach the limit from anywhere in the Inner System, around 80 days. That would make the typical speed about 0.2% that of light.
Say that for practical purposes, the top speed likely to be used inside the Limit is 1% and that this represents something no larger than a good-sized car. Something the size of a seagoing cargo ship could manage maybe 0.05% (Earth-Mars in 4 to 20 days, Earth-Limit in just under a year).
Just a suggestion, what are your thoughts?

---

On another note, this place is apparently still around. In keeping with my protagonist's 'fixer' lifestyle, would a deal he set up for Fens to purchase scrapped transports from here seem unreasonable to anyone?D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[Rieverre]

Actually, that sounds pretty good. Unless and until there's another jump in drive rates, getting to the Limit is a fair challenge - giving us a reason as to why most of Fendom is still in the Solar System, and making exploration more ... I don't know, exciting?
As for the scrapped plane hulls? Hell yeah. I can see Hermes being interested in a few more generalized designs than the Express turned out to be, success of that particular project aside, and these'd be perfect. Thus giving at least some excuse of a framework to tie PC interaction into.
Though, of course you realize your protagonist is going to be constantly referred to as Mr.Morden, right?
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[drakensis]

transferredD for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[drakensis]

transferredD for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[drakensis]

The Jaime Retief was responding... snippishly, I guess. I'm not sure how alive things become when you use handwavium, but I suspect that it's more than I'd be comfortable with had I a solid answer. And she was feeling neglected after being left parked while I tried to enjoy the Convention and forget, temporarily, the problem that had been dropped onto my lap.
I don't know why everyone seems to assume that I'm in anyway responsible. Not trustworthy, but responsible. For everything. Feh.
In any event, Jaime was twitchy as I cam up on the calculated orbit I was tracking and flipped the switch that signalled for one of my other prides and joys to respond. You know how possessive Mal Reynolds is of Serenity? That's how I feel about the good ship Saint Bernard. I don't get that way about Jaime 'cause I know that she's a tough girl and can, in a pinch, take care of herself; and the as yet unnamed 1969 Dodge Charger hadn't got any noticable character traits yet. There's something more delicate about the Saint Bernard though, perhaps because she's older.
She's sure larger and as she responded to my ping and let me know where she was, her skin shifted from matte black to mirror silver, the big retro nose windows all lit up and the propellers began to spin welcomingly (I've no idea why they do that, but it's sort of like a dog wagging it's tail). It can be kind of hard to find something as small as a ship in the big empty spaces of the Solar System, but I'd just about nailed it this time, less than a mile ahead of her.
She'd started life as a C-97 Stratofreighter built shortly after WWII and I'd found her in the USAAF's boneyard in Arizona while I was negotiating a little deal with them and I put my cut out of the first dozen or so purchases from them into buying her. It took about that much again to get her spaceworthy - you have no idea how much handwavium and assorted equipment it takes to set up something over thirty metres long for space travel and I wound up calling in a couple of markers for her to be lifted into orbit since I wasn't even going to try getting her up out of the atmosphere on the engines I'd kludged together - I'd not try it today, even after rebuilding them two or three times each.
Another signal opened up her rear doors and I piloted the Jaime into the lower deck, hovering over the deck for a moment while the doors closed and then settling gently into the clamps that would keep her from shifting while the gravity dialled up.D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[CattyNebulart]

---

At lightspeed, this would take about 5 hours to travel. If the typical speed is 50% then it would take 10 hours to cover this distance.

---

Closer to 6 actually an AU is ~ 7.2 light hours, so lets split the difference and call it 11 hours of travel.

---

Mars is between 0.5 and 2.5 AU away from the Earth. This would take from 7 minutes to 35 minutes to travel a 50% lightspeed. Now that I work that out, that's just too little time.

---

Yeah, but it shouldn't be too much longer. I'd sugest that for small cars (Honda civic and smaller) the top speed is around 0.1 c, so in the worts case it takes about 4 hours to mars, and 55 hours to The Limit
For larger cars (SUVs etc) I would put the limit at around 0.05 c, and for winbagos, ships and airplanes at 0.025 c and lower depending on size.
the Sol Bianca is one of the fastest ships in her size class by being able to go 1% of light speed, or roughly a tenth of the speed of a small car, meaning it would take me about a day ( from to 34 hours to travel to mars from earth, and it takes me about a month to reach the limit (~24 days)
Now these numbers are top speeds of the fastest examples out there (wich are probably going to be mostly owned by the PC's), lets say that most people are going at about half that speed.
I think those speeds are far more reasonable than either of the two extremes.
Also the handwavium engines determine max speed relative to the nearest large mass, and they deal with speed as opposed to acceleration, which you get from traditional rocket engines. I think this is an important distinction to make, since it makes the things becahve far more like we are used to and less like astrophysisicts are used to.
What do people think of these revised numbers?
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."

[deadpan29]

---

One of Eric's crew rigged up a docking tube in a fit of enthusiasm - the "universal connector" at the ship end is really a big suction ring, it simply fits OVER whatever airlock the ship has.

---

One problem I see with this: A suction ring isn't going to do much good in hard vacume. A magnetic ring won't work on any vehicle that isn't of ferous construction. I'm sure there's something along the lines of your original idea that will work, but it's going to take a little more thought.
----------
No, I don't believe the world has gone mad.  In order for it to go mad it would need to have been sane at some point.

[Evil Midnight Lurker]

Picture a cement oil tanker painted forest green, puttering through the shallow end of the Sea of Stars on course to Mars, the Jolly Harlock flying proudly above. (Smart fabric, programmed to "billow" in chaotic patterns despite the surrounding vacuum. Trivial, really.) The Masaka is registered out of SSX Base, known to mundane astronomers as Asteroid 6565 Reiji: the spiritual home of the Pirates.
('Danes have a few cognitive dissonance problems with we fen who insist on declaring ourselves Pirates and then on behaving in a rather unpiratical fashion. Dirtside and upside, the word has very different meanings; our own biggest problem with it is that we've yet to come up with a commonly accepted substitute to apply to those scumbags who do act in the more traditional manner. I suggested "worms," but that has yet to see much use. On the other end, the worms have yet to come up with a universal alternative to the skull-and-crossbones, so we're even.)
What does it mean, to be a Pirate? It means living your entire life according to your ideals, not backing down, never compromising. It means standing up for what you believe in, and defending that which and those whom you care about, to the enemy's death or your own.
In my case... that means helping people in need, while making just enough of a profit as necessary to keep on helping. I do what I can to alleviate the suffering of 'danes and fen alike, bringing food to the colonies and water ice to India. There's no reliable three-cornered trade yet, so we live life on the edge. Which is, theoretically, where we want to be. This is the way of life we have chosen, as the great man said.
The name's Robinson, William Henry Robinson. I would have liked to be known as Wild Bill Robinson, but fannish nature and my parents have doomed me to go by "Danger Will." Could be worse.
Sleep fades, but I'm still exhausted. Only in direct snuggle with... one body, check. The shower's running. Okay, that means at least one of the girls has had enough for the moment. I may live through another day.
"All-call message on the 'net, hon," Felice says from somewhere off to the left. "It's a Con invite, at least I think that's what it says. Someone's in dire need of an ESL refresher course."
I crank my peepers open to find Eurydice's beautiful green-gold eyes looking back at me, filled with an uncomplicated love and devotion that makes me realize...
"What are you thinking about, nya?" she whispers in a soft, throaty purr that sends a tingle right through me, her upper right hand toying with my chest hair.
"...Just about how unbelievably lucky I am, darlin'." I draw her in for a kiss, her slightly rough tongue dancing with mine, and for a moment I can forget the other thought, the one I've never told her, never told any of them.
No one's this lucky. No one has any right to be this lucky. In the back of my mind I'm terrified that there's another shoe somewhere out there, and it might drop at any time.
But right now I've got a positive bank balance, a paid-off ship, a hold full of oxylichen spores and superpotatoes, and three beautiful and brilliant catgirls who love -- and are loved by -- their captain.
The other shoe can go kick itself. Goethe said it best: at the end of the journey, all men look back and think that their youth was Arcadia. Well, this is my youth, and it is as close to Arcadia as makes no difference, and I won't let a few pointless worries ruin it.
Really, I won't.
Really...

---

That about sums Billy's situation up: he's living the fannish dream -- in certain circles he's considered to have Won the Internet for Life -- and quietly stressed about how easily it all fell into his lap. He'll probably be a lot happier once I start throwing problems at him.
The girls are the result of accidental bodymodding, but with a twist -- it wasn't the "cat" part that got added. x.x; Danger Will rescued them from some rather unsavory folks and, well, stuff happened...
--Sam
"Egad! Too much anatomy!"

[CattyNebulart]

A short piece from Miyu's point of view. More to flesh out her character than anything else.
We need some agreement on who's hosting the convention, any suggestions?
---
I like Phobos, it is one of the few places where the Sol Bianca can dock, and with their traffic control I don't need to deal with the whining of the sensors about their Pokemon episodes being interrupted. I'll need to ask the Professor if he can't upgrade them to something less annoying. With a soft clunk the Sol Bianca settled down in it's docking slip. 12 hours before the convention officially starts and already this place is crawling with fen, which is understandable considering how long it takes to get around. Well I'd better get ready to escort the Professor. Maybe we can go for a romantic walk along the promenade and I can convince him to buy me a new katana. Then we can go to some nice secluded spot where I can finally kill him in peace without Ryoko or Catty interrupting. Who am I kidding, it'll be way too crowded with the upcoming convention, a katana would be nice though.
"Hey Miyu are you alright? You look a little preoccupied." Asks Ryoko, interrupting my pleasant daydream. Really how can someone be so cheerful all the time?
"Just thinking about stuff. I ordered a few extra gallons of bleach, I know spider goo is hard to get out of that shirt."
"Thank you, I hadn't thought of that. Any preferences for dinner?"
"Not really, whatever you feel like making is fine. Well I better get ready to help the Professor, we don't want the power of science unleased on another poor lynching mob. Is there anything I should pick up while I'm in the shopping district anyway?"
"No, we are good until the next batch of supplies arrive. See you tonight." She says as she waves me off with a cheerful little wave. She is so nice, if I didn't know better I would say it's impossible to be so cheerful all the time.
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."

[Evil Midnight Lurker]

---

We need some agreement on who's hosting the convention, any suggestions?

---

Thought it was Haruhi and crew, no?
--Sam
"Haruhi is always right. I will listen to Haruhi, I will not ignore Haruhi's recommendations. Haruhi is God. And, if this ever happens again, Haruhi will personally rip your lungs out!"

[M Fnord]

---

Thought it was Haruhi and crew, no?

---

That was the plan, yeah. What the convention's gameplan is I haven't quite sussed out, though I'm 90% sure it involved Haruhi trying to organize fandom into some sort of functional WDF-style heroic space navy, with markedly mixed results.---
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!"

[CattyNebulart]

hmm, somewhat of a problem considering a Haruni character is among my crew. I wonder how Kyon will react? and how do I explain it away? gah, 3am is too early/late for these problems. gnight
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."

[M Fnord]

One of the things I truly love is landing the Explain Star in front of people who don't expect it.
The Star has a very recognizable silhouette from a distance. Most people when they first see her actually think she's one of her more famous cousins. This has worked to our advantage once or twice, spooking folks who think the 'danelaw is approaching and bugging out fast. It's gotten us into a few impromptu firefights, too, but that's a story for another time. Still, the resemblance from a distance is striking; the distinctive black and white markings and double-delta wings are instantly recognizable to anybody familiar with the History of Spaceflight, 1961-2000.
The closer you get, the resemblance starts to fade a bit. The Star's lines are sharper, her nose a little more pointed, the big engine pods missing from the aft fuselage. Most people who don't know her history think that she's a mockup, a thrown-together copy built by fanboys without a proper reference guide. Which I suppose is true, from a certain point of view. She *is* a copy, but she's the *finest* copy 1986 Soviet aerospace technology could build of the finest rocketplane technology 1974 America had to offer.
Yeah, she can be a bit balky at times, and repairing stuff usually means whanging on it with a crescent wrench until it starts working again, but I swear to you that the combination of Soviet hardware and concentrated handwavium that is the Explain Star (nee Ptichka, formerly Buran airframe #1.02) is damned near inde-fucking-structable.
She also makes one hell of an impression upon arrival. We passed into the main hanger deck and the double-takes made the extra five hours hanging out in the entry queue all the more worthwhile. Phobos Control knew us already, so they had a good parking slip already lined up.
We also had a couple of fans waiting for us. For reasons that I will never understand, the Explain Star has become something of a minor legend amongst certain fannish fractions. It probably has to do with our successful libertation of the Star from the mundane authorities. Most folks buy or build their own hulls; *stealing* one, especially one with the history and mystique of the Last Soviet Space Shuttle, tends to attract some notice even in Fenspace.
Everything from there moved more or less like we expected. We popped the hatch, greeted our adoring public, got ourselves and our shit out and ready to move, and grabbed the next turbolift up the hab levels. Once we'd hit the main level, we spent some of our hard-earned JPL money (plus a little bit of our JPL footage) on accomodations, got our stuff moved into the rooms, then hit the convention space drinks in hand, ready for action.
The first little bit was nothing more than peoplewatching with a bit of light networking. Saying hi to fen we hadn't seen in a while, talking to folks who knew us or knew the Star, generally just taking a look at how the Nation had changed since the last time we'd been in the inner system. On the far pavillion the Pirate fraction were busy setting up their recruitment center. Thankfully it looked like station security or the organizers were keeping the various ninja clans far away. The floor was starting to fill up, and stagehands were getting the big central stage ready for our benefactors, the mysterious SOS Brigade.
"So," I muttered to Calc, the Star's sysadmin and legal counsel, "we ever figure out who these SOS guys are?"
Calc frowned. "Not exactly. They're Japanese, but they're not affiliated with the Otaking or any of the other major fractions." He took a sip of his Martian faux-Glenlivet and continued. "As far as I can tell, they only just out here a few months ago."
"Huh, and they're already calling a Convention?"
"Yeah, and they've got a pretty definite agenda too." I would've replied to this bit, but just as I was about to ask what the SOS agenda was, chief engineer KJ interrupted with more pressing business.
"Hey, isn't that Gristle McThornbody from Fox over there?" Gesturing in the general direction of the press booth, where a pack of mundane newsmuppets (as opposed to the fan newsmuppets, who tended to be, well, *actual* muppets. But I digress.) were busy jockeying for the best angle of the reception area to serve as background color. There in the thick of it, looking a bit green around the gills from all the gravity shifts between the hangar decks and the main living areas, was the blandly handsome face of the mundanes' finest Space Correspondent.
Excellent.
I handed my drink off to KJ. "Hold this, man. Be right back." I threaded my way through the crowds, getting closer and closer to the press area. As I drifted closer to the booth, I saw that McThornbody's camera light had just went on. Perfect. The booth was surrounded by gawkers, some waving into the cameras, others looking for the world like they wanted bags of popcorn to throw at the reporters. McThornbody was almost in reach, and I could hear him blathering into the camera about the Convention and the far-reaching implications.
Just as he got to the point in his script about "political backlash," I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "Oi! McThornbody!" I yelled cheerily as I proceeded to deck him with my free hand live on international TV. "That's for running out on the tab in St. Louis, you prick!"
Naturally, this caused a bit of a disturbance. Between the consternation of McThornbody's fellow reporters, the cheering of my fellow fans and McThornbody's bleating cries on the floor, the press booth suddenly got a *lot* livlier. I took advantage of the confusion to slip back into the crowd and back to my compatriots, who had apparently watched the whole thing unfold judging by the way they were nearly doubled over laughing.---
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!"

[Evil Midnight Lurker]

I have to wonder what Haruhi's minions and their secret masters make of all this. The Data Entities, the Agency, and the time travelers would probably find it easier to operate in fan culture, and the latter are presumably descended from it.
...I propose that there be a "Time Police" fan fraction that is in fact both a front for Mikuru's people, and the movement that will eventually give rise to them.
--Sam
"If I could just reach those peanuts...!"

[firvulag]

When we weren't too far from Mars' orbit I was busy drilling holes in PVC pipes for the garden. I had my headphones on to block the sound system out. I like classical music, really I do, but there's only so many times in a row you can hear Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 25 before you go insane.
Photoelectric ivy may be cheap, and I sell it at a very reasonable price, but it likes music, very specific pieces of music, and it takes forever to enjoy them. It's not that bad now that Ari's figured out the minimum volume that's needed and I've got my headphones, but I still can't hear the name 'Ravel' with out curling into a little ball and whimpering.
Anyway, I was pretty much deaf to the world, so Ari' had to flash the lights to get my attention. She keeps insisting that I get a pair of bluetooth headphones so she doesn't have to keep doing that, but there are times I like my solitude.
Space was going to be getting relatively crowded soon, so I put down the drill and pulled of the headphones. "So, we in imminent danger of death or something?" I asked.
"Nothing that simple or pleasant. Our course is going to intersect that of some old and dear friends of yours in the next half hour, so I thought that, maybe, you'd like to say hello. If you must," she said.
There's only one group of people that gets that sort of reaction from Ari' so after I carefully stowed my tools, the pipe I'd been working on, and swept up the sawdust, I headed for the 'bridge'.
My workshop is at the back of the Elenchi so I had to pass through most of the rest of the ship. Above me and to the rear of the ship are the banks and banks of capacitors, some store bought, some scavenged from dead hardware, and some homemade in mason jars. Those scare me sometimes, as they each have a tiny, tiny drop of Handwavium in them as well as a distressing tendancy to glow in interesting colours. I'm half convinced that they are talking to each other, but Ari' says I'm just paranoid.
I pass through the living space and reached the aluminum ladders that lead down into the cockpit, and up to the library and observation platform. The rest of the ship forward of that is mostly empty space. There's the storage tanks, fresh water, black water, consumables, the beginings of the hydroponics setup and lots of white christmas lights which will eventually let the plants grow. Climbing down into what had been the airship's gondola I make my way forward to the controls.
I flick on the mike and give the navicomp's holotank a glance. I'd been right, it was the SSX Coherent Anit-Stokes Raman Scatterer. It's also the last thing Kale get's to name if Mab has anything to say about it. And she should, given that we got her a twenty pound sledge hammer for a wedding gift. Even had the word 'reason' embossed on the hammer's head.
The Coherent's an ugly thing, compared to a lot of what's flying around up here. I have no idea where they got the cash to pay for her, or found the time and space to assemble her. But she is just a little impresive. Although I may be a bit biased.
The heart of the Coherent is this massive bundle of pipes and culverts which house the engine and power plant. Arranged around that, connected by long, thinish struts and more pipes are four sections. Three of them are made up of 6 metal cargo containers arranged in two rows. The fourth, is four cargo containers, a mobile home, and a shed.
As I said, she's not the prettiest ship out there, but she gives us plenty of room, and there's always the possibility of expansion. I almost wish I hadn't sunk everything into the Elenchi, but then again it's good to be able to get some distance from Kale now and again. Plus the Chevette, 'George', that serves as the Coherent's primary shuttle is a little cramped for five people.
We do need the space though. The Coherent's full of mostly half completed projects, the giant robot being only the latest. There's Dru's recylcing center, which is actually working, mostly. There's the vats that are going to grow, and are growing the plasi-facient bacteria colonies. There's the mostly completed hydroponic garden, which grows the freshest strawberries and algae this side of Luna, and the fish and ant tanks. Fish and ants are decent sources of protien, and the ants make a pretty decent burger once you've ground up enough of them.
There's also any number of uncompleted projects in the various workshops, and our pride and joy, the only completed project so far. The brewery. We've got beer, mead, and wine all fermenting, and there's always something drinkable coming out of one of the stills. Mostly vodka-ish stuff. Potatoes are pretty easy to grow.
I placed a call, and got the answering machine. I left an annoyed message telling Kale to wake hell up, and tried to figure out who'd be more likely to be up at this time. I setteled on Kas. It would have been so much easier if the Coherent had had some kind of AI to handle incoming calls, but it had never developed one. There was an 'expert' system, whose experties was questionable, but it was no substitute, plus it tended to listen to Mab almost exclusively.
It probably wasn't that much of a surprise that there was no AI on the Coherent. Kale's insistance that a computer intelligence would have to think and reason in ways so strange to humans couldn't relate to it might have had something to do with it. Of course, since Kas handles most of the computer stuff, it might have just chosen not to talk to Kale. I'll have to ask Kas or maybe Ari' sometime.
"This had better be good," Kas growls after the fifth ring.
"You're such a pleasant person to talk to in the morning. What happened, did you not get your pound of bacon for breakfast?" I asked.
"Furry! Where've you been man?" he said.
"What exactly is it going to take to get you to stop calling me that? People get the wrong idea. I've been floating out near Luna, trying to get this place finished."
He laughs, understandably. I've been trying to get the Elenchi finished for a long time now, and something always interrupts.
"Anyway, I'm about 15 minutes out. You guys got the docking clamps working again?"
He assures me things have been fixed since last time, and I sign off. A quarter of an hour later I'm coming along side the Coherent, engines on low burn to match velocity.
When I'm 20 meters out Kas launches the grapples. They slowly close the distance, simple reaction engines lining them up with the hard points on the Elenchi's hull. Once they've clamped on the winches start hauling me in and a minute later I'm clamped securely to the Coherent.
It's a bit of a walk across her hull to the airlock from where I am, but that's why we've got space suits. Mine's made from a pilot's pressure suit and helmet from the local Army-Navy store, some scuba gear my uncle had laying around in the basement and a few odds and ends for saftey's sake.
It's surprisingly easy to get into, all things considered, it's getting out that poses some problems. For no reason I've ever been able to determine the suit just doesn't want to come off. There's no AI in it, there's just not enough processing power, so it isn't like it actually has desires, but there's just no other way to explain it.
After I've sealed up and run the checklist I say goodbye to Ari', endure her comments about finally having time to read and step into the airlock.
--
"An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all."
-- Oscar Wilde

[Foxboy]

Captain, Buttercup chimed, interrupting Mrs. Dobbs. The airlock has cycled and a U.S. Marshal is asking permission to come aboard.
"If you'll excuse me please," I said to my passengers, "I need to deal with this." I cleared my throat and began to sing:
"Dear little Buttercup,
sweet little Buttercup,
My favorite ship's A.I.,
Please permit Marshall D
Onto the deck, you see,
Promptly, oh Buttercup mine!"
Okay, Captain! Buttercup replied with a giggle. I love when you sing!

---

Gah I hate getting choppy bits stuck in my head at awkward times of day. Buttercup, the Ship's AI of the Pinafore, will only accept poetic or sung orders.
Feel free to have the Pinafore cameo in the con bits, as Captain Corcoran (my protagonist) is picking up fen after his duty with the 'danelaw.
Not sure where I should have her registered from...
History:
She began her service as the Pinnafarina, a luxury yacht owned by a Miami drug dealer. Original design specs would allow her to comfortably tour the Caribbean with 12 passengers, including the captain/crew. Four decks, vehicle bay with room for two automobiles and two motorcycles. Swimming pool and sundeck.
She was in private drydock when the DEA and the FBI raided. The dealer drove his Ferrari from the hold after a running gun battle with agents, ignoring little things like oh, say, the doors?
The damage drove down the price significantly at the ensuing government auction.
Captain Corcoran, as he's currently known in Fenspace, had originally run tourists in a converted Volkswagen Microbus, the Pearl Forrester and made enough money before the anti-'wavium legislation hit to purchase the Pinnafarina and the necessary oddments to refit her as the Pinafore.
''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

[Morganite]

I wonder if this is getting to the point where something other than this one thread in the forum is needed...
(At the very least, branching out into two threads might be a good idea; one for story and one for discussion.)

---

Point. My suggestion regarding this, though, would be that individual people cannot determine their own quirks. The GM, or the rest of the community, get to inflict them.

---

This strikes me as a good way to get people to give up and stop writing. I'm sure the people here can come up with interesting things to have their stuff do that they can authorially work with. (Of course, there's nothing wrong with pointing out if they haven't done so yet... but arbitrary assignment of something that amounts to part of character creation really rubs me the wrong way.)

Now, in a delayed reac- ... question,

---

Second, they can't be used to build weaponry. Some sort of safety lock that "breeds" true and can't be broken. (They can be used to *power* weapons, but if you want to use one to charge up the Reflex cannon you need to build a Reflex cannon first, which leads into...)

---

I'm wondering just what not being able to build weaponry amounts to. Like, if you throw the previously mentioned pile of tools into some plotdevite, can you use it to machine parts and assemble them yourself? Or would you have to come up with non-weapon things that you can take apart and reassemble into weapons to fool it? (Which could lead to a really fascinating set of stuff...)
Because without a change in humanity that I'd find hard to believe, there's people out there who will want to have weapons... which will lead to other people needing to have them.
-Morgan.
"It looked something like the unholy offspring of a grenade and a pasta machine."

[drakensis]

My guess would be that handwavium being somewhat sensitive to: a) the original purpose of whatever it is applied to; and b) the intentions of the person applying it; that it won't do anything to an actual weapon and will malfunction significantly when applied to something intended to do harm.
If someone wants to fit a perfectly standard weapon to their ships then by all means this is possible, but it means that most of the weapons in space fall into one of two catagories:
1. Perfectly ordinary firearms and missiles that are largely ineffective against anything that has a hull enhanced with handwavium.
2. Weirdass whackiness - Boy/Girl Guns, Meta-Cometary Accelerator Cannon, Banana Bomb Clusters.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

[Rieverre]

---

Well, now I remember another reason as to why the Express is 'parked' in the main bay pending unloading.
Fendom, despite occasional claims to the contrary, is prone to just as many foibles as the mundies. One of the most annoying being what I term the Pirhana Effect. Also trope-d as Give-Them-A-Finger-And-They'll-Take-Your-Arm-Off. Or at least it should be.
Employing a mixture of three skills essential to every Con-goer (*dum dum dum dum dum dum*) - the Nothing-Wrong-Here-Smile, the Elbows-Of-Poking, and the Art-Of-Crowd-Step - we finally managed to make our way out of the throng of rabid Matsumotoites.
Usually, I don't mind these guys. Hell, Scales was one of them back when we were working on the Express, and probably still is.
Come to think of it, that was easier than I thought it'd be.
Oh.
"We did not just see Mal decking ..." I started, the reconsidered my statement. The 'sky' proceeded to repeat the recording of the incident in a short loop.
Yup.
There was Mal.
There was Mal's fist.
"No, I think we did," Maetel corrected with a laugh, then stood on her toes and gave the conquering hero a small wave over the top of the crowd.
"Well, here's to familiar faces, then."
Hmm, and there was the Village of Hidden Asteroid, in the process of setting up their stand as close to the middle of the promenade's far end as they'd managed to wrangle from Phobos' representatives. I meant that literally. Far as I could tell, they were using that antigrav kitbash I sent their way last time I was visiting - because, hey, cute asian girls in skimpy ani-ninja wear? Yeah.
Though how the hell they expected people to be able to get up there, I had no idea. Should occur to them in a few minutes, methinks.
It was still a bit until ... well, whatever that stage was there for would be happening, or so the so called 'schedule' we'd snagged on the lift said, and I'd never been much for mingling.
"Schrdinger!"
Damn. So much for random timesinks. Apparently, Phobos admins still remembered me.
"This'll take a while, I think. You might want to get out of the blast radius," I shrugged at Maetel's inquisitive look, before she caught my meaning and trailed off as to not be caught in whatever it was that was heading this way.
Yup, that looked like what passed for the locals' uniform. Or close enough to it, at least.
I proceeded to spend the next half-hour sprouting assurances that, yes, the Uncertainty was here but Trigon was properly secured and entertained and, no, he wouldn't try reenacting the tunnel run from Return of the Jedi in Phobos' interior.
Again.
Gah.

---

-Griever
ETA:editsu
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

[Acyl]

...as I get my brain in gear, once again, after a long plane flight, and line up the ducks in my head for the next bit I wanna write...
Griever, what do you mean by magnetized rails? A sorta ultralight commuter thing? Or something else. Beats walking, I guess...it wouldn't exactly be the most practical venture, but Fen are Fen, after all.
Deadpan, you're right. Suction won't work in vacuum, that was a silly suggestion. In my defence, I made that last post, as I said, in the few minutes before I left for the airport. So. =)
In general, yeah, they've got some kind of boarding/docking tube setup. Exactly how it works...I don't know. But the important thing is that the capability exists, 'cause it's a minor plot point in a story idea I'm kicking around.
-- Acyl

[Rieverre]

Actually, I meant a sort of dedicated landing space for the Express, and eventual other Fenships with similar configuration. Seeing as the Express is mostly deliveries, with a side order of passenger service, it seemed to fit.
As for the docking sleeve? Use enough handwavium coating and it'll work just fine, up to and including an ending bit that dynamically adapts to whatever ship needs to use the thing.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm