Space Station Deliria
Sadish, Khate, Aubrey, BorisAfter short, but still confoundingly tooth rattling ride on the slide, most of the Reunion's crew arrived on-board Deliria station. This wasn't the first time on Deliria for any of them, but only Aubrey knew the station well enough to not still be slightly disoriented by Deliria's sheer scale. Of course, even Aubrey's experience couldn't prevent slight shock when the Sled's doors opened out onto a chaotic throng of people crowding this level of Deliria's docks. Neos of every kind pushed around on the dock-side, some pushing to get deeper into the station, some pushing to get back to their ship, and most pushing to browse what appeared be an impromptu bazaar selling what looked like fan merchandise. A lot of people were wearing VERY similar outfits. The phrase 'Goliath Falls!' was repeated in more font variations on more apparel types than anyone could count. There was even a Fin in a clear bodied walker suit that appeared to have had miniature holo-emitters embedded into their skin, making the side of their own body into an impromptu screen depicting a furious ship-to-ship battle. After the recent stint on board the relative isolation of Deliria, with a max of five other people to run into, suddenly being thrust into the middle of a semi-jovial mob was a bit of a jolt for all involved.
Someone had clearly tried to create a semblance of order here, with tape marks demarcating where the merchant stalls should end and law keepers in blue and white trying desperately to keep people flowing in an out of Deliria smoothly. The guards weren't failing, not exactly, but their role as keepers of order seemed to have been reduced primarily to triage. A port authority guardswoman, a Cane marked by a blue flower with a detached petal embossed onto her otherwise matte grey-white uniform, gave the crew a quick once over as they exited the shuttle. Her expression was pinched, and her hackles seemed to have become perpetually frozen in the middle of trying to rise. She didn't even bother trying to speak over the din of laughter and shouting and milling bodies. She looked at the crowd, then looked back at the Reunion's crew with an expression that seemed to say 'if I had enough ammunition, I cold solve all these problems. Don't tempt me,' then pointed up at a massive holosign shedding blue light on the crowds.
Welcome! Goliath is Falling!
Please be courteous to other guests and proceed inside quickly to reduce dock traffic. Thank you!
SadishAction: Sadish goes to mingle the local Intellectuals on the station, perhaps over future-lunch.
Thankfully for Sadish, who had spent comparatively little time on board the station, several smaller holosigns also hovered near all the exits from the dock, espousing various amenities available on Deliria. It was most likely for the benefit of the tourists, but it still helped Sadish a great deal. After all, one of the signs was advertising an establishment called "The Think Tank" with a little hologram of a swimming Fin built right into the advert! All Sadish needed to do to get there was to follow the signs and cross through the docks without accidentally crushing anyone with the walker. Which was, in all honesty, much harder than it looked. Particularly with the little hollow boned crows hopping around on the ground instead of flying properly...
Several close calls, a couple of curses, and one potentially broken toe later, Sadish managed to navigate through the crowds and follow the strand of glowing signs that led down to the Think Tank. The establishment, fronted by an even more elaborate hologram, contained one of the major features Sadesh had hoped for: a Neo-Dolphin pool. The lobby was basically a check-in booth with posted rates, attended by a blue haired human female with her hair done up in braids strung with beads that seemed to have the collective effect of nullifying the effect of their mass. The woman smiled at Sadish, greeting her buoyantly and immediately producing a price sheet for Fin-Walker storage. It was surprisingly inexpensive, a pinprick on Sadish's funds compared to typical lab expenses, and she paid quickly.
After the nebulously haired human had checked Sadish in and wished her a good swim with a rather surprising wink, the door out of the lobby clicked upon, leading onto a lowered gravity platform that let Sadish strip out of her mech and dunk into a tank of refreshingly saline water. From here there were two ways forward, one through a small 'door' designed to be pushed through, and another that terminated in a chute and a mech selector that presumably was how the club was exited. Sadish naturally pushed forward, bullying through the pressure door into the main tank.
Trinary song immediately hit Sadish; Fins with quite honestly exceptional voices performing in metaconcert. Sadish might never have been the most song oriented of Neo-Dolphins, but there was still no more beautiful music than that produced by her own kind. Humans, Corvids, Felides, Canes, they all had music, and they knew how to work in concert, but her people... The three singers were in the center of the tank, dancing in pattern as they sang, creating currents that altered the propagation of the sound waves they generated. The sound waves pulsed outwards, striking large bubbles held in place by sophisticated fields, resonating off of walls, outlining the dining areas, playing Fins, artistic organo-sculpture, and then bouncing back inwards. The bounce of the original sound waves was a ghost sound, an aftereffect that the other races principally considered an incidental interaction. The Fins, however, used it. They sang with the ghosts of their old song, colliding sound waves to warp and split it into new forms and shapes, painting phantom pictures with their voices. The sang, and their song reverberated back from the past to combining with the present and shape an idea of the future. The essence of a Neo-Dolphin metaconcert.
Of course, Sadish wasn't there for the music, she was there for food and stimulating company. She swam through the saltwater with relish, powering through an air bubble in order to take a breath before heading over to the swimming bar. Nearly all the guests were Fins, but there was also a pair of humans wearing breathers with resonators attached to allow speech. The menu for the place was expansive. Rather liberally so. There was the expected menu of foods in various ethnic flavors, but there was, in place of where other races would have a drinks menu, a rather complete list of mind altering narcotics.
It wasn't all that unusual, given that Deliria was a free port, and Sadish squeezed in between a pair of other Funs and ordered the bar's three 'S' sampler mix of Squijium, Sealite™, and Sorbet. The Squijium was a little bit disappointing, but the Sealite tasting surprisingly good, and the Sorbet was a Sorbet. There wasn't a lot you could do wrong there. The conversation, meanwhile, was rather interesting. Due to the acoustics of water, it was fully possible (unlike in a human bar) for every person at the bar to be engaged in the same conversation. It was also why, further unlike human bars, there were multiple bar areas separated by various sound diffusing organo-sculptures. It turned out that nobody there was a station native, but only two were actually there to see the firstwave premier of Goliath Falls. Most were doing secondary jobs, including one Fin who was conducting research into the history of televized war and battle. Like most Fin conversations, the rhythm of it was physical visible to everyone but the humans, which made it rather difficult for them to get a word in edgewise.
For Sadish, it was a surprisingly engaging conversation, and the amount the two Fins who were actually fans of Goliath Falls were able to contribute about its deep history, and the history of events like in general, was a refreshing change. It was also nice to not be interrupted constantly by people trying to flee the conversation, which happened a great deal on board the Reunion. And almost everywhere else.
Well into the conversation, after Sadish had finished her Sorbet and had shared several relevant theories about the cultural transference of violent ideals and the emergence of ersatz proxy war as a means to release the expansionist need of the average citizen, the Fin to her right bumped her with his flipper. He was smaller, maybe nine feet, and had typically been adding more comic relief than content to the conversation. He grinned at her, and asked if she'd want to help him bury his artifact someplace.
A much older Fin, with deep scars across his left side, gave Sadish a knowing look and twisted his flukes sideways. The polite gesture for 'do you want me to accidentally tumble this idiot with my current?'.
KhateSee if anybody on board the station is familiar with bore jumpers, microexplosives, or close combat in general. Bonus points if they possess such specialties themselves, and are willing to practice for fabulous Dead Neo Running themed prizes!
Holy shit that was a lot of fan-ware. Not as much or as nice as a DNR meetup, but still, Khate had to admit that some of the stuff was pretty impressive. The Fin that was basically a living holoscreen was kind of all-out, and the crow hovering through the air dressed up as what appeared to be an advanced superiority fighter that must have required rather expensive personal grav nullifier to support was pretty cool too. There wasn't much merch that Khate wanted, but it was still nice to be among 'her people' again. More than one individual let out a sudden noise of excitement and pleasure when they saw Khate, either because of her DNR or her Pretty Soldier Sakkakl accouterments. More often than not, they'd stop, pose, and take a picture while Khate did her best to strike a suitably supportive pose. She did her best to advertise and ignore the occasional 'accidental' jab from neos who were less enthused about
her favorite shows.
There wasn't really a good holo-board up that would point her towards what she wanted directly, which meant consulting a guard. The guard was somewhat less than enthused to be asked where a very excitable and heavily ornamented Cane could find a rather dangerous sounding individual. Still, whatever instructions were left with the guards by the station boss seemed to include being as helpful as possible. The guard politely informed Khate that the station had war gaming rooms that could probably handle those simulations, but they're a bit high priced and have been booked solid for months. There was also an independent suite of troubleshooters that the station kept on retainer, and there was at least one of them that sort of fit the bill. The guard does warn that they're not exactly the friendliest bunch, essentially acting as permanent mercies for when the Guard needs to extend their reach off station. There were a couple training dojos on station as well, but there was a good chance those were just as booked as the war-game studios.
BorisOnce we dock, look for a jump solution to Flounder... one that doesn't bankrupt us to buy. Search scrap markets for any interesting bits and pieces, such as anything that could be used to help contain the reactor before its inevitable meltdown and painful prolonged death of the rest of the crew.
Boris didn't immediately stalk back inside the shuttle the moment the doors opened onto the pulsing crowd. That was as much victory as he managed. He couldn't prevent himself from growling involuntarily at the sight of all the consumptive glee, nor could he prevent the snarl from spreading across his face, but he could avoid walking away. He did his best to ignore the crowds, and the crowds instinctively parted- shying away from his augmented form rather than press up against him and pull him in as one of their number. Boris stumped over to the port-control kiosk, getting in line and trying to shut out the maddening, meaningless noise that seemed to be trying to bore inside his skull.
After far, far too long, Boris reached the front of the queue, finding himself face to face with a claw that seemed as thrilled to be there as Boris himself did. The felid explained in short, pointed statements, that someone had joy-hacked the automated kiosk system. Repairs would be underway, but he would be happy to assist with any needs Boris had. Boris had a grudging respect for the sheer amount of contempt the neo-cat could put into the word 'happy'.
That grudging respect evaporated when Boris got a look at the prices on jump solutions. There was no question that they'd been inflated, but the amounts were insane; ten to fifteen times Boris' worst estimate. It made sense as a way to keep people on the station and buying things for as long as was possible, but the prices still made Boris nearly pop a vein. The prices were usurious, no borderline about it. Yes, the Ship's fund could afford them, but the Ship's fund was typically set aside for actually buying expensive components for the Reunion, not hemorrhaging money into simple travel.
Boris stumped away from the Claw, cursing under his breath in his native tongue. Queuing up the scrap market from a display integrated into his exoskeleton. Thankfully, unlike the kiosk, the local scrap market for the station was still up and running without actually having to go through the trouble of meeting someone in person.
It was also enough of a goldmine to make Boris almost forget his anger. Apparently the massive influx of ships was good for the market, and people were selling 'spare' parts off their ships in order to get a bit of liquid money. Of course, who the hell would consider on a EM flask radiation baffle as a spare part was a mystery to Boris, but their loss was his gain...
EM Flask type radiation baffle: A useful piece of robust prime-tech, this radiation baffle is designed to draw energy off 'leakage' from reactors and generation a soft shield to deflect the damaging particles into heavy sinks. Because it draws energy from the radiation leakage, the strength of the shielding is directly proportionate to the ambient radiation. It's a typical hot-rod modification, used on reactors that burn too close to the wire to be contained properly without compromising maneuverability. The good news is that it's robust and excellent at keeping critical overloads from poisoning everyone before the problem can be fixed. The bad news is that it never completely stops leakage.
Pauly Shell: The Pauly shell consists of control cage built around the reactor that can be used to reduce the effective mass of the active reagents, bleeding power off in an emergency. It's highly effective at stopping a critical reaction and allowing a reactor to function well into the redline, but if the shell itself fails during a critical event, or worse is tampered with to increase effective mass... the results can be devastating.
Stasis Charge: A stasis charge isn't so much a preventative measure as it is a way for you to put off an incipient problem. The Stasis charge bleeds power off of the reactor, building up energy until primed. Once primed, it can pulse a stasis field around the reactor for up to six hours. During that period, the internal forces within the contained area will move at a fraction of their normal speed. The problem is that this will completely interrupt the reactor's output, but it does give a serious chunk of time to decide how to actually fix the problem. In order to be effective, the Stasis charge must fire at a predetermined pre-critical state from which the reactor can be reasonably cooled, otherwise all it does is buy time to get away.
AubreyAction: engage in Gathering Information with old acquaintances.
If there’s any information we can get for free that that’d be nice. Any that we have to pay for, well, we have a strictly regulated budget. I’ll be happy to offer my services for something that’s really worth it though.
Aubrey cut through the thronging crowd as swiftly as was possible, hopping madly and flapping sparingly. Wingroom was always one of the major problems with space stations. Claws, Humans, Canes got along fine, and Fins did too with a bit of assistance, but there was something terribly undignified about being forced to move along the ground- and something very unsafe when one considered the height disadvantage and comparative frailty of Crows in comparison to the other species. Still, Aubrey had experience, and was able to deftly weave through the tourists without getting her feathers more than slightly ruffled. She headed for the furthest dock exit, noting with a bit of satisfaction that the establishment she was after didn't have a holo up to guide tourists in. The Well was an establishment run by long term locals, for the long term locals. Aubrey didn't imagine they were taking too kindly to the influx of foreigners, no matter how deep their pockets were.
It had been too long since Aubrey had been on Deliria, and while a few faces seemed familiar, there was no one she recognized until she actually got to the Well itself. The Well was, in the bluntest terms, a club. There were drinks, finger food, more drinks, dancing, even more drinks, an unholy number of various games of chance, and, naturally, drinks. Calling the Well a club, however, was to miss the forest for the trees. The Well was neutral territory for every major group on the station, a place for the 'pillars' of the community to mingle, exchange notes, make deals, and carefully bustle for influence under Fuzzy's watchful eyes. There was more concentrated power in the Well than in any other place on the station, with the exception of Fuzzy's personal office.
Aubrey had a rare moment of self-consciousness before she entered the Club, a brief realization that she'd changed a great deal since she'd last set foot here. She edged inside carefully, breathing in a deep breath of scented, but slightly too antiseptic air. She didn't get a chance to see too much else before the bouncer, a thickly built young Cane with shredded ears and more facial scars than original teeth, intercepted Aubrey. She prepared to get a chit out and pay the cover, but something glinted in the corner of the bouncer's eye, an iris display.
"Welcome back, Ms. Brakhadakh," the bouncer said formally, his pronunciation perfect despite his damage face.
"The Well is always happy to welcome back old friends." He stepped aside, motion Aubrey to step inside.
She didn't recognize him, and he probably didn't actually know her, but it was rather touching that they'd kept her identity in the computer after all this time. Particularly since, by the look of the place, remodeling had been extensive and it would have been easy to lose an old record like hers. The new dance floor seemed to sport grav plating more advanced than the Reunion's, and more than one couple was engaged in a pin-wheeling dance untethered by gravity's shackles. Crows were the best at such feats, the lack of gravity freeing them to dance unhindered in the air, but Aubrey had to admit that some of the groups were rather talented- even lacking wings. The bar area had been redone into a single heavy circle in the middle, roughly separating the dance area from the lounging/dining/talking and gaming areas. Fuzzy wasn't in his customary spot, a contoured sort of couch built directly into the bar that looked like it was imported from the old place, bloodstains and all. The head woman running bar, however, was a familiar sight. The Well was Malissa's baby, and it was good to see her still leading from the front.
A fair bit over seven foot and scarcely over a hundred pounds, Malissa cut an odd figure. She'd modded both her skin and hair to be pure white, and accented herself heavily with various shades of blue. She'd been born and raised in zero-g, and though extensive cybernetics and bio manipulation had since removed its need, she still bore the scars of the integrated exo that had once kept standard gravity from crushing her thin bones. She was a woman of great pride and not inconsiderable power. Not even Aubrey had known all of the things that Malissa controlled, but it was no coincidence that Deliria's security and Malissa shared a taste in colors.
Malissa glanced sideways at Aubrey the instant she approached the bar, her ever-present smile deepening on one side.
"The usual?"
HMS Merciful Reunion
KesariInquire as to a deeper HMS Reunion-status check and repairs about it, or at least being able to conduct more repairs on it [like where or how to obtain such, and stations we may visit and log for our benefit?].
But PRIORITY goes to a comprehensive computer check up--where can I find similar information regarding tech computers like the ones of our sensor-make, for cross-referencing in how it works and how to better understand it? [Goal: Better calibrations pre-use of sensors]
After about an hour, Kari was willing to admit that trying to do a direct check on the repairs the Reunion's computer thought it needed had been a bad idea. Even trying to narrow the field by restricting it to 'serious' damages had filled several screens with vibrant red text. Actually looking at the number of warnings and errors currently displayed, Kesari began to wonder how they hadn't already exploded as space debris by now. There was an additional list that Boris had tacked on -physically tacked on, with a yellow sticky note no less- for 'critical' repairs, which included the air processors, water filtration, and the pulse synchronizers for the reactor. It made Kari's heart sink a little to see that the last item had been circled repeatedly and the word 'Radiation!' added beside it as an additional note in all caps.
There were stations where the ship could be repaired to any number of degrees, completely overhauled even, but the cost was... prohibitive. The Reunion was a damn good ship, but she was also painfully unique. It wasn't as though she was a mass-fabricated model, she was a custom built resort combined with a military carrier, both from an empire that no longer existed. There was no 'good as new' for the Reunion, because there was no time when she was new and had all the functionality of her current state. That said, it might be possible to get a new blueprint made that would preserve her current functionality while shoring up her structure, but... Well, there was a very good chance that a full overhaul of that kind would be more expensive than just getting a new ship constructed from said mythical blueprint. So far, the Reunion had gotten by on spot repairs and infusions from various other ships along with the occasional trip to dry-dock to treat the more serious repairs.
The computer system was likewise difficult to work with. All the nuances of the language were from the Toriad, and Kesari had a better chance of finding the API information in the Deep than she did of finding a Toriad programmer. That being said, if there was someone left from the Toriad, Deliria would be one of the best places to find them. Finding compatible technology for the computer was relatively easy, Toriad were prime-tech, and thus their systems were capable of interfacing with anything else running GMS3, so with a bit of work it was possible to make it play with almost anybody. Upgrading the power of the Reunion was a straightforward process, but the actual methods the computer used, the way the intelligent systems went about their tasks, was core piece of the ship. Replacing that would basically mean putting a new brain in the Reunion, which, while occasionally tempting, would mean that new IS (or AI, if they went top shelf on the purchase) would have to relearn how to work with all of the Reunion's faulty, or at best 'eccentrically functional' systems.
If Kesari could get her hands on an original model of the same intelligent system that had been packed into the Starset Resort, then she could do a lot of things, and potentially fix a lot of problems, but that wasn't exactly the kind of thing one could buy easily.
Scarletsee if there were any remote or AI-controlled drones she could use to poke at their actual med bay.
The Starset resort had focused heavily on providing its clients with an organic experience, and had eschewed robotics to a large degree. Of course, there were a few janitorial tasks that couldn't be easily accomplished without the use of either children of special purpose robots. The Resort's owner had drawn a line at child cruelty when attempting to keep machines out of the way of his guests, and so the air-circulation maintenance was done by automated drones. The problem with that was that none of the drones had live feeds. They had retrievable boxes that Scarlet could probably pull the video from, assuming it wasn't much more complicated than plugging it in to her own device, but that was assuming the drone didn't succumb to any hazards. Boris might also be a bit miffed at having one of his drones vanish into a section of the ship that he'd removed from their cleaning plan, but, well, Boris was always a bit miffed.
The second option was that, since Sadish was off station, Scarlet could also try to 'borrow' the Fin's remote control survey drone. That would be a much better alternative to the cleaning drone and offer a live feed as well as some light scanning capability, but it might end up with agitating Sadish. Regrettably, that probably wouldn't end with Sadish refusing to speak to scarlet, it would probably end up with a lecture about how theft was treated in various cultures through the last five millennia.
Scarlet wasn't sure how long she could stand up to that kind of torture.
Author
Topic: Small Mercies (IC) | Death is knocking, and he wants to buy a goat. (Read 53389 times)