A Metamorphosis Alpha® play-by-post adventure run by ghost_of_warden
"Lynn and I are going to stop Warden from careening off the galaxy's rim into nullspace so you won't have to spend the rest of your life sucking recycled plant farts while you command over 5,500 empty cubic miles of tired, irradiated ship."
"I was thinking about what you mentioned, Zhaxier. About you and Lynn stopping Warden, and something about commanding an irradiated ship.... Firstly, I agree with you. If we're not able to stop Warden, the whole shootin' match is over." He raises an eyebrow. "I think we should come to some consensus on the most expedient and practical way to achieve this." He takes off his hat and slides it into a hip pocket. "As for command, I'd offer a thought that if we could locate or revive command-level personnel, we'd be in a much better position to help.... What about the cloning banks, surely they have some Captains in stock?"
He looks skyward along the elevator.
"While we're waitng for our ride, let's do a little strength assessment." He brings his gaze toward Penderchuck. "Herman," he begins, looking at his military garb and laser rifle, "you seem like an excellent man to be on the 'good side' of." He grins in a stern, respectful way. "The rugged, independent type. You've managed to survive in this 'tired, irradiated ship' for a month on your own." He places hand on Hermans's shoulder, giving a firm, manly squeeze.
"Lynn," he continues, casually drifting in her direction, "you impress me as a person with an open mind, an intuitive decision maker." His posture is relaxed, oriented directly toward her. "As strangers in a dangerous place, we came a callin.' You sized us up as friends," he glances toward Herman, "and invited us in." He thinks of her pistol pointed at him, which she immediately lowered. "I guess you could say, 'You had me at at hello.'" He smiles a becoming smile, noticing her physical 'cut' from manual labor, her calloused hands, the condition and type of her attire.
He then looks at Zhaxier while lingering a second or two near Lynn. "Zhaxier. A man on a mission: a thought I can appreciate." He slowly moves closer to him. "A knowledgable man, with a highly developed sense of humor." He gives a friendly expression, casually looking him over and observing his nails, his lack of callouses, his attire, the close fit of his shades. "Propulsion engineer, handy thing to know if you are---actually if you and Lynn are---planning on stopping Warden." He pauses. "Lynn, are you a propulsion engineer as well?"
"I'm more of a 'nuts and bolts' man," he says, slowly walking and looking down the empty streets and buildings, "an environmental engineer." He visibly strains his eyes, trying to see as far as he can. "And chatty... but I guess that's obvious."
... flickering lights... access tube... ambulatory fungal-mass... merciless hacking....
Biff observes the seemingly good repair of the City with its mostly functional slidewalks, then recalls the thirty sessile forms he picked up in the multi-story building, the secbot missing the anti-grav car at close range, the other "person," and the "something" it grabbed before fleeing the scene.
He's still feeling chatty. "Just curious, what's our plan to get into Command? Seems like an emergency would require a couple of those bands just to get in, much less override command orders." He thinks about the lack of dust on the keyboard in the apartment.
He scratches his head, takes a swig of Supersport and slowly replaces the cap. "Another quick thought: wouldn't those clone Captains waiting to be born have command rings? Otherwise, they'd be just like... us... right?"
... rallies... UWSC MemGen Labs... long hours studying schematics... hookers... strong drinks after a hard shift... Domar transfers... protocol manuals....
Quietly singing to herself, Nicolaglee takes a second to say goodbye and drops a damaged component into her "busted parts" bag.
"Like a thief in the night, see the world by candlelight," she mumbles, adjusting her penlight to see the unconnected nerve juncture-box fasteners. Attaching the last leads, she skillfully rebonds the synthoskin covering her thigh. "It's a beautiful day...." She replaces the tools in her field service pack, stands and pulls her shiny plastihide pants up.
Nicolaglee pulls a fresh energy cell from the pack. She inserts it and revels in those first seconds of euphoria, like a cool-hot wave through her, tingly and sharp.
In a low, questioning voice, she calls, "El Popo? Mister Joshua?" She looks around the room. It is dark, smooth and featureless, empty and without visible entry points. She touches her face, then chuckles at the passing thought that she might have been wearing her shades.
Pulling on her pack and adjusting her gear, she begins a careful examination of the room. Searching for any variation, contour, marking. She switches on her com/karaoke headset and listens to the multiband search.
If she hears nothing, she will begin singing:
In Warden you can forget,
Forget how to sit still.
Tell yourself you will stay in
But it's down to Alphaville.
[A new group is born:
Sorry for the delay, folks. I had my post up and running, and then checked back in at the club to find 3 more Biff posts to respond to! Then the perfect storm hit Philly. Then more Biff posts! Gotta love kurtgrubbins' enthusiasm! I only wish I had half of it <rubs back, sore from shoveling 21" of snow off driveway>. ;)
Luck, sound engineering design, and a little knowledge. Good design, ten times that much luck, and a precious little knowledge. It was luck that had placed the Ship near a star with a planetary system, luck that the Ship arrived there with a speed low enough for Hugh to counteract it in a ship's auxiliary craft, luck that he learned to handle it after a fashion before they starved or lost themselves in deep space....
Luck again. Coincidence of such colossal proportions that one need not be expected to believe it.... Never mind---skip over it rapidly; the combination of circumstances is of the same order needed to produce such a planet in the first place. Our own planet, under our feet, is of the "There ain't no such animal!" variety. It is a ridiculous improbability.
Hugh's luck was a ridiculous improbability.
"We are the turtle baking belly up in the hot sun.... Why is that? It's because no one but us cares about what Warden is facing. Do the three of you understand what I am getting at?"
Zhaxier nods solemnly, all traces of his sarcastic grin having evaporated. For the first time, he feels that this Lynn Margulis has fully accepted the role she has inherited. He is filled with a profound admiration and respect for this woman who just two days ago was trying to bury her birthright in a turnip field, idyllic but ultimately doomed like the rest of Warden.
Lynn looks his way, and hesitates with a slight double-take, at which point Zhaxier turns away, knowing that he has been caught staring. He finds himself analyzing the pneumatic emergency tube several meters above, noticing the hairline cracks in the aged plastisteel that have no doubt rendered the high-speed system useless. Like the tubes and slidewalk above, his mind races on a parallel track, as he tries to rationalize his burgeoning feelings. God, I hope I wasn't drooling.
Biff spares him the effort.
"Conduits for a ship this size are so big and ubiquitous that most of their maintenance is automated with regularly scheduled scrub-downs, usually with industrial-grade agents. ... When I say big, I mean big enough to drive a grav-truck through, since that's what we use to repair most of them."
"Yeah, I seem to recall you envirotypes sideswiping our 'bots with your clunky trucks in the between-decks. You guys were a menace to the real engineers," Zhaxier deadpans.
"That's a pretty neat trick---one that says something to me: either command code access has been granted to everyone, which would be extremely helpful, or among this group, we have access, which is tantamount to the same thing... right?"
Dude's as sharp as a Delta function at zero. Lynn's reticence at his side is his cue. All in good time, dude. "I'm flattered, Biff, but your logic assumes that what I've told you is command-level eyes-only. If the central link were up, I could've piped those kinds of sordid details directly into my data pad. Instead, we gained access at a high-level terminal back in the Medical Complex; I spent a day and a half combing through all sortsa crap to get the big picture. Some of it was clear, some I had to deduce." The artful dodge is a beauty to behold.
"A trick like that could really help us gain access to some key points of the ship, or at the very least give us an idea what we'd be up against. If we could access Envirocontrols, clear a conduit highway to Engineering, to Comm---actually most of the ship would become available."
"Well, then: the ship is ours!" he mocks. "Do---did---not engineers and you enviro-types use this color bracelet? About thirty percent of the isotope has decayed; should be plenty left though. With this, we have theoretical access to Engineering and Environmental, but let's save the tubecrawling for later. First, I plan on getting us into Engineering the old-fashioned way: through the blast doors."
"But it could prove a workable strategy, not only to make that 'last stop' in the galaxy, but actually give a chance to spread humanity, however flawed, to another planet. Ultimately, I think that's why we built Warden."
"And here I was thinking 'tax shelter'," he whispers to Lynn, who hits him in the biceps. "Ow!"
When they return to the City surface, it is 3pm in the shadow of the central elevator. Biff and Zhaxier check their hand units simultaneously and laugh at their synchronicity. Or is it their luck?
"Looks like we have more in common by the minute."
"Quit while you're ahead, my friend," he says softly. There is more truth to Zhaxier's words than one would expect.
"Ah, gosh. You've really got some nice toys, Zhaxier."
Zhaxier looks at Herman through his midnight shades as a smirk develops on his face. He relishes the quip poised to roll off his tongue. Nah. Too easy.
"All clear, dudes. Let's boogie." Zhaxier jogs across the street toward the elevators, and waves his bracelet over the 3 by 8 inch brown rectangle beside one set of doors. A low hum of power surges through the column, and to Zhaxier it seems to shudder, as if with centuries of atrophy.
"I agree with you. If we're not able to stop Warden, the whole shootin' match is over. I think we should come to some consensus on the most expedient and practical way to achieve this."
"For us, all roads lead to Engineering, Biff, and the quickest way there is the central 'vators. Without more intel, we'll have to wait until we get there to decide what's next."
"As for command, I'd offer a thought that if we could locate or revive command-level personnel, we'd be in a much better position to help.... What about the cloning banks, surely they have some Captains in stock?"
Now Biff's enthusiasm is starting to annoy him. And so is Lynn's silence. The man keeps going back to command access. Does he suspect something? Zhaxier doesn't know why, but he's certain Biff is telling the truth, if not the whole truth. "You'd think they would. But then, after a mutiny that decapitated the chain of command, one would also think that that kind of data would be encrypted."
Why is the frakkin' elevator taking so long?
Perhaps sensing Zhaxier's growing irritation, Biff starts into his "strength assessment." When he approaches Lynn, Zhaxier tenses up, but at Biff's "you had me at hello," he doubles over with laughter.
"Ho, Biff, assess this!" <crude gesture> "You... are... too much, man." More guffaws, whimpers. "Sorry... really." Spasmodic chuckles. "You're---you just remind me of... Professor X. The comic strip. X-men? Oh, forget it."
Zhaxier lets Biff examine him like a side of beef without further incident.
"Lynn, are you a propulsion engineer as well?"
Zhaxier looks Lynn's way in time to catch her nod in the negative. Not wanting to linger on that point, he asks Biff, "So what about you, Professor? I gather you're a meat'n'couscous kinda guy."
"I'm more of a 'nuts and bolts' man, an environmental engineer. And chatty... but I guess that's obvious."
"You said it, dude, not me, but the City'd be awful quiet without you." He gives Biff a wide grin. "We forgive you that, as well as your envirohacker bent. Stick around, and I'll show you some real engineering. Anyway, here's our lift." The rumblings get louder, but the elevator doors still remain shut.
"Seems like an emergency would require a couple of those bands just to get in, much less override command orders."
Zhaxier sighs. Dude is right. Engineering's "sealed like a crypt," and so we'll need another engineering bracelet to open it. Suddenly he curses himself for not taking two bracelets back at Kaminsky's. At the time, it felt like a sacrilege. "You're probably right, Biff, so, everybody, keep your eyes peeled for another bracelet." Of course, Lynn's ring would suffice along with his bracelet, but....
"Another quick thought: wouldn't those clone Captains waiting to be born have command rings? Otherwise, they'd be just like... us... right?"
"Now this I can answer from experience. I wasn't 'born' with this bracelet. I suspect you're missing yours too, Biff. Why? It's a failsafe mechanism borrowing a page from Darwin. Any thug worth his weight in plumbum would know to raid the clone banks if they held anything of value, and that would endanger the clones. So let the clones compete. The fittest---the ones most likely to steer Warden through her crisis---find their bracelets and survive."
"And get mating rights?" she says coyly.
Zhaxier falters in his verbal stride, and shoots Lynn an acidic glare that unfortunately goes no futher than the inside of his shades. "Uh, now, before you start sucking up to your obvious genetic superiors," he laces his words with heavy sarcasm, retreating to familiar territory, "I'll dash your hopes: our luck in finding this bracelet has been nothing short of a ridiculous improbability. This disaster may have been beyond even the original contingency planners' worst nightmare, and I wonder if their clever safeguards have done more harm than good. In short, if the Captains are out there, they likely are just... like... us."
<Ding>
Finally! Zhaxier ushers everyone through the opening elevator doors, and once inside, presses the white button for Level 10. Reading the radiation from his bracelet, the button immediately turns steel gray. Zhaxier notes that Lynn is careful not to get too close to the control panel: proximity to her command ring would light the button up in blue and red, and eventually a different set of doors would open---onto Command rather than Engineering.
The doors close, and the high-speed elevator accelerates so smoothly that Zhaxier barely notices that they are climbing. Zhaxier catches Lynn's glance again, and turns away sheepishly again, though this time, it's because Lynn's face is framed between the larger-than-life tautly-bound breasts belonging to the long-dead Decathawarrior scowling at him from the Astrobash 5000 holo-ad behind her.
Thank you Zhaxier!! My enthusiasm is based (in no small part) on the vigor you displayed in the early days of Initiate Alpha Sequence :D If you'd like, next time you have a post ready, feel free to post it then; I'm sure many of us would be eager to read it. In fact, my preference would be for character interaction, not unlike Hershey and Christine (speaking of which, welcome aboard, if I haven't said so already!).
I feel even more solidarity with you regarding the weather: we're in a "State of Emergency" here in ski resort land. It took days to clear the 1/4-mile driveway.
"Ho, Biff, assess this!" <crude gesture> "You... are... too much, man." More guffaws, whimpers. "Sorry... really." Spasmodic chuckles. "You're---you just remind me of... Professor X. The comic strip. X-men? Oh, forget it."
Biff pauses, beaming towards Zhaxier.
"That... is exactly the kind of passionate spirit we need!!" Biff gives a biceps-squeeze to the arm Zhaxier used to grab his crotch. "'Cause I gotta tell ya, you had me worried for a minute there."
Later in the elevator, Biff notes its condition and looks at the holo.
"You see, some things are a little 'hazy' for me just now---disconcerting, to say the least. Other things are popping into my head like they just happened." He looks around. "The reason I was so worried... well, if we're ever going to trust one another, maybe I should just clear the air."
He takes another look at the Decathawarrior holo. Sparks of another life flicker.
"I knew this guy, back on Phelps One. He had this 'deep and omni-occasional sarcasm.' I can't remember exactly what his name was, something like 'Pavin' or 'Laxlo'.... Anyway, this guy Laxlo was a Power Systems Engineer, a real engineer, you might say. Very territorial kinda guy, suspicious of any offer of help, easily excitable, overcompensating---we all know the type. Anyway, this guy gets so wrapped up in some 'they're out to get me' thing, that he offs himself, as near as we can figure, just to spite us! Not really what you'd call a 'team player,' ya know?"
Biff pauses, then an unabashed smile seems to burst from his entire body.
"Wow! That was totally cathartic!" He takes a deep, cleansing breath, mentally thanking the plants for farting. "Thanks for being there, guys. I'm having a little period of adjustment to this whole 'being a clone' thing. It's just that the smallest things are making me wary... distrustful of people, ya know? And hey, Zhaxier, that sarcasm just brought up some really bad associations. I know that guy isn't you. Come here, gimme a hug, big guy."
Hey, caught an episode of Battlestar Galactica today. I always wondered where frak came from....
[Here plutoniumblondenapecity raises the interesting question of how long Warden has been traveling. The answer is revealed in this interlude. --ed.]
With nowhere to run in the elevator, Zhaxier looks on with disbelief as Biff squeezes his arm.
"I gotta tell ya, you had me worried for a minute there."
"Worried ain't the word for it, dude." When Biff releases his arm, Zhaxier's chin traces a small circular motion in the air, and he subtly jerks his arm once, as if to shake off a spider that was climbing up his sleeve. He shoots Lynn an eyebrow formation that reads, "Can you believe this guy?"
"The reason I was so worried... well, if we're ever going to trust one another, maybe I should just clear the air."
Zhaxier grimaces, bracing himself for another excerpt from the "Life of Biff."
"Anyway, this guy [Laxlo] gets so wrapped up in some 'they're out to get me' thing, that he offs himself, as near as we can figure, just to spite us! Not really what you'd call a 'team player,' ya know?"
"Depends on the team."
"Wow! That was totally cathartic! Thanks for being there, guys."
"We had a choice?" he mouths to Lynn.
"It's just that the smallest things are making me wary... distrustful of people, ya know?"
Drawing an immediate comparison to poor Laxlo, and extrapolating to its logical conclusion, Zhaxier deadpans to Herman, "If he offs himself, I call dibs on his hand unit."
"And hey, Zhaxier, that sarcasm just brought up some really bad associations. I know that guy isn't you."
"At least not in this life," he quips tentatively.
"Come here, gimme a hug, big guy."
"Oh, no, no, Biff," Zhaxier backs away, stumbling on Lynn's boot. "You've got it all wrong. I'm a mar---" Lynn's shove causes him both to swallow his words and, to his horror, to careen into Biff's open arms.
Lynn aims an air camera and makes a shutter clicking noise with her tongue. "Kodak moment."
Hey, caught an episode of Battlestar Galactica today. I always wondered where frak came from....
Yeah, come to think of it, I do remember "frak" being used in Battlestar Galactica! I'd never made that connection before. Wow, thanks! Maybe that's where I got it. I always thought I'd picked it up from a single frame of my brother's (gammaben's) The Empire Strikes Back comic book, wherein Luke shouts "FRAK!!" as he tries to rescue his gunner from their crashed snow speeder before an AT-AT stomps them. Before today, "frak" had to have come either from that comic book or the Boy Scouts, where I earned my first merit badge in expletives. :)
Biff notices Zhaxier's step back onto Lynn, and her pushing him forward. "Glad we're gettin' on the good foot," he says while giving Zhaxier a deep embrace. Biff plants a smoochie on Zhaxier's lips and gives Lynn a wink.
He immediately feels resistance to the move. "Zhax, I'm sorry.... In the Academy at Ceres, we were taught that caustic wit was a key indicator for 'repressed' orientation. I'm really sorry. I was just trying to make you more comfortable." He gives Zhaxier a little space.
... Ceres... biz-ness suits... Cosmobug... my own image, older? ... Decathawarriors... unregistered labs... gene therapy... Jibbs... transfer of Domars... identicards....
"Whew, not to change the mood, but I think it wise to prepare for what might be on the other side of that door." Biff unholsters his stunbaton, switching it and his ELA on.
ROFLMAO! Shades of that smacker Amanda planted on Nike in Initiate Alpha Sequence.
"I'm really sorry. I was just trying to make you more comfortable."
Zhaxier is momentarily stunned in his newfound space. He wipes his mouth slowly on his lab coat sleeve, then shivers like he's trying to shake off a whole colony of spiders this time. He readjusts his shades clumsily, his eyes tearing up even from temporary exposure to the dim (mood?) lighting in the elevator.
"Er, no worries, Biff. Uh, just not my groove, know what I mean? Not that I have any issues, mind you." He turns to Lynn. "Just not me, you know? Or who I think I am... frak." He sighs, turning back to Biff. "I guess at this point I'm supposed to reassert my wounded masculinity by saying, 'If you do that again, I'm gonna have to kick yo ass,' but that would be so banal." He puffs up with a big goofy grin.
"Whew, not to change the mood, but I think it wise to prepare for what might be on the other side of that door."
"Yeah, good call," he deflates, only remotely distracted by the elevator's premature deceleration. As Biff pulls out his ELA, Zhaxier follows suit by activating his ESHU to scan for energy signatures and radiation.
Nicely played. :D
Biff notes Zhaxier's ESHU, then glances towards Lynn and Herman to see if they're preparing.
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