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He was going to carry out his duties like a professional if it was the last thing he’d do, and the way things were going, it was starting to look like it might be.
Oo
“You sitting down, Chuck?” “I’m driving, Vickie, so I would certainly hope so.” “You could be using an auto-pilot for all I know,” she replied. “But that’s unimportant.” Anything not on Vickie’s agenda was deemed unimportant, and that included time off, weekends, and even vacations.
Oo
“That wasn’t scheduled,” he said. “First space trials aren’t even slated until two years from now. It’s still in the experimental phase.” “I know. But Mr. Millbury himself green-lit the test.” “He’s a dilettante, not a scientist. He should have waited.” “He’s a genius, Chuck, and he’s our boss. If he wants an early test, we give him an early test.” Charlie sighed. He knew how this would go. Protest would be useless. It would be just like every other time the billionaire had a whim.
Oo
“Those are supposed to power the ship, Vickie. We’ve been working on that thing for nearly five years. You can’t just go and steal our work for Millbury’s impulses.” “Relax. We’re not going to strip them out of your ship, Chuck. Your pet project is safe. The Asbrú will remain intact.” “Good, becau––” “We’re going to run the next test with the ship.” Charlie fell silent. They couldn’t be serious, could they? Taking hundreds of billions of dollars worth of research and work and turning it into a science experiment? It was folly. Madness. And just the sort of thing his quirky employer would do.
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;(
“I don’t do space flights. That was made clear when I signed on to this project.” Silence hung icily over the open line. Finally, she spoke. “You do realize what this will do to you? To your career?” “I’ll have to find another job. Maybe I’ll teach, this time,” he replied. “You won’t, you know. You’ll be blacklisted from every major research facility, shunned from reputable universities. Is that what you want?” “He wouldn’t do that,” Charlie said, only half believing himself. “He wants this badly, Charles, so yes, he would.”
what an entitled asshat employer. ><
“What hit us, Charlie?” “It-it was an unstable Einstein-Rosen bridge,” he said, shell-shocked. “I think we somehow tore open a wormhole. It shouldn’t have even been possible. We should be dead. But for whatever reason, the same malfunction that got us here also protected us.” “From what?” “From being turned inside out and boiled down to jelly,” he replied.
well ... at least there's that.
What her sex-addled brain failed to notice was that she had destroyed the wrong chips. After lunch, she finally noticed her mistake. The trays she used to sort the good from bad were reversed at her workstation. Had she done that?
Seriously ... we needed to see this? ><
Doesn't bode well for the rest of the plot/treatment of female POV
The design would go through many iterations, of course, losing the most impractical aspects––like folding in on itself to transform into a plane. It did actually wind up being designed to fold, but into a boxy and protective travel configuration, designed for ease of loading into transport craft.
heh ... and nice practical ending. :)
“No fire,” Jamal said, fighting to keep the pain from showing on his face. “We don’t know what’s out there.” “You actually think there’s aliens?” Charlie asked. “I have no idea, Charlie. What I do know is it is always better to assume the worst, even when you’re hoping for the best. Keeps you from unpleasant surprises.” “And disappointment,” Rika added. “That sounds more like dating advice than a survival tip,” Jamal said with a pained grin. “Aren’t they one and the same?” she replied. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”
hmm
“One more thing,” Charlie said. “What?” “We need to have everyone save their urine.” “I am not drinking piss, Charlie.” “Not to drink. To recapture the water by evaporation. It’s like the waste reprocessing systems on the ship, only a far cruder version. Nevertheless, we can reclaim the water many times over if we’re diligent about it.” “But that’s not only gross, it’s also not going to last.” “I know. This is little more than a Band-Aid, when we need a whole lot more. But at least it should buy us some time.”
Considering the number of people -- yeah the solar still probably not be sufficient. Let's go Fremen people ...
“I think we should keep going. We need supplies, Charlie.” “Yeah, but the sun is getting intense.” “Hey, I’m in command now, so I say we keep going.” “Rika, this isn’t the time to be stubborn. If we use up all our energy now, we’ll be of no use to anyone.” She thought about his point a moment. “I agree, to an extent, at least. So, we keep going for another half hour. Then we turn back.” “Thank you, oh fearless leader.” “I’m more of a benevolent dictator,” she said with a chuckle. “Now come on, let’s get a move-on.” They made fair time, but with the discovery they came upon after only fifteen
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well ... shoot
“Flail chest?” “It means several adjacent ribs are broken in a way that lets them free-float with your chest as you breathe. It’s one of the most painful types of rib breaks.” “I noticed. And this wrap is killing me.” “Stop tugging at it, Omid. Bad as it feels, the pressure of that wrap against the broken section is actually reducing the pain.” “You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean it could be worse?” “Yep. Now hold still, I’ve only got so much battery on this thing.”
ouch
“So you just kept going.” “Precisely. So about a week later it still hurt, but worse. My coach said, ‘Run it off, it’s just shin splints.’” “Let me guess. It wasn’t.” “That’s cheating. I already told you I had a stress fracture. But at that point I didn’t know, so I just did what my coach said and kept running. Eight, nine, ten miles a day, the tiny crack growing until finally it hurt to even walk. My mom took me to get a bone scan, and the doctor said if I’d kept running the tibia would have split vertically. I’d have had one leg over an inch shorter than the other.”
.... great looking out there Coach. ><
“I’ll pass on algae, thanks,” Charlie said, crinkling his nose. “If we have to resort to Winnie’s dead rats, you’ll thank me if we find algae,” she shot back. “Dead rats?” “Yeah. Protein is protein. And anyway, by the time we find them, they’ll probably be rat jerky anyway.” Charlie felt a hot flash of bile in his throat and gagged a little.
I mean ... jerky is usually the meat ... I dunno what all the insides & foreign bacteria would do to it ... they'd probably not be jerky?
By rubbing it on yourself?” “It’s like the old allergy tests. The inner arm is a very sensitive area, so if there’s going to be any reaction, that’s the most likely place a test would show it." Rika stared at his arm expectantly. “So, um, how long, exactly, until we know if it’s going to make your arm fall off?” “I can’t say for sure, but twenty minutes should suffice, I’d think.” “Okay, let’s start the clock.” She took the tuber back from him and studied it, turning it over and over in her hands. “It looks so normal. So Earth-like. And yet, here we are, Lord knows how far from home, and the
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;)
Wild,” Charlie said with an appreciative whistle. “We not only met our first alien––” “I shall call him Mr. Tuber,” Rika joked. “Yes, Mr. Tuber.
;)
Damn. The guy doesn’t seem to be bothering anyone, but if it got him spooked. Charlie may have been a foreigner to the strange world, but he was not stupid. “I have no idea how any of that works, my friend, but I’ll take your word for it,” he said, steering well clear of the pale man. Apparently, the Wampeh had drawn the attention of others, and not scrutiny of the good kind, Charlie noted as they plunged into the depths of the tents and stalls. Everyone gave the intimidating man a wide berth, but wary eyes were continuously on him. It felt like one of those old movies where prison yard toughs
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:(
Well he could feel a bit more remorse about the dude's situation.
The device from Charlie’s ship seemed to interest the man, though it was apparent neither knew what the hell it was. I suppose I could tell them that’s a waste water impeller for the toilets, but they did want me to be quiet, Charlie thought with a little chuckle. Wouldn’t want to anger Mr. Pointy Ears over there, now would I?
:)
The Tslavar held up his hands. A slaap was slid over the fingers of each hand. Charlie didn’t think much of it, but Tuktuk and the others’ eyes went wide. “Quiet. Nothing will happen to you. Now move.” He turned to his blue friend as they closed in on the sounds of violence. “Tuktuk, what’s the deal? You all seemed legit scared when he showed his slaaps.” “Is not that he has slaap, Charlee. Is that he have two of them at once.” “That’s bad?” “Is very dangerous for user. Only very strong can handle it, and me know this man. He not strong. For him to wear two mean him scared. There be very bad
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oops
But not everyone drank and swam in the stuff that we did, so if anyone might have a chance... He hoped he was right, but deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. The brain was a different thing entirely than a cut or broken bone. Tissue might heal, but knowledge, memories, they were lost. Rika had been lobotomized. She was gone.
Really ... they built all that up just for the lead's man-pain factor? *sigh*
Bandolier-wearing men from his own ship were fighting their way through the other craft, he could see through the jagged holes. Fighting with not only slaaps, but also short swords, knives, and clubs. They were taking over the crippled vessel by force. “Pirates,” he gasped as realization set in. “I’ve been shanghaied by fucking alien space pirates.” The guard nearest him glanced at his astonished face and laughed, then pushed him through the hole and aboard the other ship.
Oo
He hadn’t realized it at the time, but his own personal commode was just a much smaller symptom of a far larger problem. With the system unable to properly close and seal, the pirate craft was forced to haul around the waste of the entire crew until they entered the atmosphere of a planet with breathable air. Only then could they open the purge and dump the accumulated mess, likely to the great horror of any unfortunate enough to be located beneath them.
Oh so much worse than a bit of blue ice. Oo
“You’ve worked well and hard. Others would have complained the entire time, but you just put your head down and got the work done. The captain may not always show it, but he appreciates your efforts. Go ahead and get cleaned up. You have the facility to yourself. I’ll see if I can procure a set of clean clothes in your size from one of the dead’s belongings. That way you can rinse the day’s clothing as you bathe and start the next day fresh while the damp ones dry.” “Thank you, Marban, I don’t know what to say.” “Say? There is nothing to say. You have performed well, and on the Rixana, those
...more
Carrot, stick & stockholm syndrome (yes I know that's been disproven but works for a stop gap description.)
“You think we’ll find any survivors in there?” “Nah. Not a chance, little brother.” “But the ship seems pretty intact. Maybe––” “Trust me on this one. I’ve seen this sort of thing before, and believe me, it’s not pretty. The ship was scuttled, which means violent decompression. Now sure, maybe some were in sealed compartments away from the breach, but then you have a mostly unshielded atmospheric entry, the temperatures of which would fry most beings, powered or not.” “That must be horrible.” “To say the least. Now, suppose those poor souls somehow survived both of those things. Unlikely, but
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smoosh
The man smiled, wicked intentions in his eyes, and pulled a small knife from his waistband. Somehow, the others had missed it when processing him into the ship. And now Charlie would die because of it.
This is such an obvious set-up. The Captain ... and apparently everyone else (see next paragraph) knew he wasn't killing.
Apparently not acceptable to an ex-Gladiator spartan space pirate.
When Charlie had shown up wearing his pirate gear, the captain had told him that wouldn’t be necessary. As a result, he was walking this strange planet wearing nothing but the clothes he’d originally arrived in. Entirely unarmed.
Yep -- he's going up on the block again. Or maybe just a prize fight?
So, voice control.” “No, Charlie. The voice is only the smallest part of it. The trigger, if you will. It is the visceral feeling, the intent and will within the caster that ultimately makes a spell work.” “And these words, they just stumbled upon them across all those systems?” “Actually, yes,” Ser Baruud replied. “What you hear now are the combined learnings of hundreds of worlds, the knowledge pooled as contact and alliances were formed. The spells themselves are not true words, in the sense of language. They are sound combinations that transcend language. You may have noticed that even
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hmm
These spells were discovered by accident. Sounds and thoughts uttered causing things to happen.
heh ... now I have the quote from the old Dune movie running through my head. How some thoughts have a certain sound, and thereby a form ...
“Um, he has a slaap.” “Yes. And a club too,” Baruud pointed out with a chuckle. “You disappoint me, young one. Have you forgotten your training so soon?” “No, of course not. And this konus is much more powerful than my old one, but he has a slaap. That’s easily more powerful than my konus, and he has a club.” “Yes, he does. And those things will be his undoing.” “I fail to see the logic in that assessment.”
um ... just say "Yes Sensai" and take the beating?
What the hell was that? he marveled at his unexpectedly effective spell. Movement caught his eye, and Charlie spun to the great fanged creature, ready to fight if need be, but held his hands up, palms open. “Hey, fella. I’m the guy who fixed your wing. You remember me?” The dragon gave him what looked suspiciously like an amused smirk. “For one, I am not a fella,” a female voice said, reverberating in his head. “And remember you? Of course I remember you. You were kind to me, though I could smell your fear. Now, however, I can smell no such cowardice.”
Oo
Makes the others deaths so much worse. ><
But then, he was an astronaut from another planet, fighting alongside a dragon and using magic. Unnatural was just a matter of opinion at that point.
Not even a 'real' astronaut -- a misplaced engineer.
