Jointhesaga.com

Crafting system update!

2009-06-09T13:35:00.000-04:00

It's been six months since we kicked off the new OtherSpace reboot. Time for an update on where I'm at with the new crafting system.

As of tonight, you can +consider everything listed under +craft/list weapons. By the weekend, it's my intention to have +craft/list armor, craft/list clothing, and +craft/list gadgets good to go. We'll also have NPC shopkeepers to sell basic tier schematics for credits and deedgivers to offer the same in exchange for crafted goods.

Improved and Fine/Advanced tier schematics will not be available from NPCs. Only players will be able to make these schematics. As a result, only players will be able to make the higher-end items.

Crafting minutes will come initially from the NPC deedgivers, but it has been suggested that we implement a sort of daily +earn command that gives some out to players and I'm cool with that plan.

How it'll work:

* Items are divvied up into three tiers: Basic, Improved, Fine/Advanced.
* More advanced items have a higher craftlevel prereq, so you'll need to make multiple low-tier items to skill up.
* Items have specific crafting skills that they skill up now. So, rather than a generic craftlevel letting you craft ANY category, you can improve your Gunsmithing craftlevel. This should allow more specialization. (Thanks, Loki!)
* Another tweak by Loki: Crafter tags. All items that are crafted will include an identifier for the character who made them.

Please understand a few things:

* This is just the foundation for the new crafting system. It's not everything we're going to have. More will come.
* We'll do everything we can to help match players from Chia and both OS games with the items and schematics they used to have.
* It's not all happening overnight. I expect to get a lot done this week, but my free time is liable to diminish sooner rather than later.

I'm looking forward to rolling the stuff out. Stay tuned!

OtherSpace is closing...

2009-06-04T16:49:00.001-04:00

...on an important date!

On June 28, the game celebrates its 11th anniversary. To celebrate, we've kicked off our Summer Celebration. All players are eligible to receive a Summer Celebrant badge and anyone who contributes at least $5 via PayPal to jointhesaga@gmail.com during the month of June is eligible for a Summer Celebration Contributor badge.

Other activities:

* This weekend, we hold our first RP expertise "belt" tests. Participants will be trying for their Green Belts.
* I'm also hoping to have my new Llivori character, Ribas Salek, active aboard Comorro.
* Work will continue on crafting and the grid of Hekayt Prime.
* We'll start holding our introductory sessions and bring-a-friend-days.
* We'll hold another OtherSpace Roleplaying Awards ceremony.
* And more to come!

Get into the action at jointhesaga.com 1790!

New badge collecting badges

2009-05-30T19:47:00.000-04:00

We've added four new badges. These badges are basically badges for collecting other badges. We'll probably offer more of these down the road. The current selection, found in +listbadges 12, is:

Badge #: 111 Elite Storyteller Value: 100
Description: Earned the following badges: Town Crier, Stephen King, Mark Twain, David Mamet, Shakespeare, Homerian Epic

Badge #: 112 Elite Recruiter Value: 100
Description: Earned the following badges: A Little Help From My Friends, OtherBuddy, Friend of the Saga, OtherVerse Reviewer, Tony Robbins, To Whom It May Concern, Saga Fansite

Badge #: 113 Elite OtherSpace MVP Value: 100
Description: Earned the following badges: Star, Superstar, Top Roleplayer, Glengarry, Headline News, OtherMentor, Soapbox, Team Player

Badge #: 114 Elite Saga Savior Value: 100
Description: Earned the following badges: Caffeine Fiend, Saga Supporter, Saga Patron, Saga Benefactor, Super Shopper, Red-Eye Flyer, Red-Eye Travel Agent, and any fundraiser-specific badges.

Think you qualify for any of these? Post an +str. Thanks!

New JTS Site

2009-05-05T08:46:00.001-04:00

The social networking site at Ning.com is a good "check us out" sort of site for new people who might discover us. However, the general consensus I've gotten from feedback re: using it as our MAIN site has been as follows:

It's too laggy, too chaotic, too dark, too spammy, too spread out.

And I've tended to agree. A year or so ago, Marson first suggested that I give Drupal a look for our own content-management system. In the past few weeks, I finally did, and I liked what I saw. So, rather than invest more effort in developing the Ning.com site as our main hub, I've shifted the effort back to Jointhesaga.com and a new Drupal-based content center.

At the new site:

* We've got built-in forums
* We've got voting links
* We've got links to connect to our games via web browser
* Registered users can add content

The latest site announcements and IC news articles will appear on the main page. I'm also rebuilding our local roleplaying log archive and the Encyclopedia Intergalactica, including a comprehensive roster of characters.

Yes, it's another major change. Yes, it's understandably frustrating. But the new site will give us the flexibility of a Wiki, the interaction of the forums, and the freedom of self-ownership that Wikia and Ning.com don't offer.

Visit http://www.jointhesaga.com and it should automatically redirect to the Drupal-driven site.

OtherSpace: Worlds as characters

2009-04-23T21:38:00.002-04:00

Recent discussion led to some interesting plans that are now afoot at OtherSpace in the coming months. Specifically, we're going to introduce worlds, created by players, as characters in their own right.

Players will create characters using the name of their world. They'll take the world through a special creation system - gee, maybe we'll call it Genesis or something cute like that. During creation, they'll choose what kind of planet they are and they'll get some initial points to spend on planetary attributes, which will control resources, inhabitability, etc.

The player behind the world must submit a "biography" for the planet. Once the planet is approved by the staff, the world object gets some quota to spend on building a few starter rooms. Additional rooms, colonization kits, etc., will have to be earned through RPP rewards - people who apply for planets are going to be expected to run their worlds like theaters, putting on shows and earning points as they go.

Worlds are also going to have access to special action cards, similar to those used by normal players. Worlds can play those cards on their own behalf (if it's some kind of boon) or against other worlds (if it's a calamity).

Anyone, even someone fresh to OtherSpace, will be able to apply for a basic uninhabited planet once this system comes online. However, it will cost 10,000 RPP to app for a civilized planet.

Stay tuned!

OS: New worlds to conquer...

2009-04-20T21:19:00.000-04:00

This summer, OtherSpace players will be able to claim their own worlds and build their own alien races and civilizations.

Starting with worlds: A basic uninhabited planet, ripe for colonization, will cost 7500 RPP and will require a threshold of at least 200 JTS Faction Points. (We've yet to determine an IC credit cost, but we'll have one.) An already civilized world will cost 10000 RPP and will require a threshold of at least 400 JTS Faction Points. Again, IC cost is yet to be determined.

All in all, they'll be damned expensive. On June 1, though, we're giving two uncolonized, uninhabited planets away for free.

Well, mostly free. You'll still need 200 JTS Faction Points, but those are EASY. The real kicker is that you have to recruit at least three new players (and get them through the approved bio process) by June 1. Three is the minimum - so, the two OS players who bring in the most new blood between now and June 1 (and that's at least three each) will get to build their own new worlds to add to the OtherSpace grid.

The worlds will be introduced to the winners through special RP events. After June 1, we shift to the RPP cost structure for new worlds.

OtherSpace: A Rift for Our Times

2009-04-17T18:55:00.001-04:00

The Kamir time-space rifts have spread to 21st Century Earth, making it possible for people from the modern day to wind up aboard the living starship known as Comorro.

Until June 1, we're offering 10 slots for human characters who could come from anywhere on planet Earth. No need to be familiar with the OtherSpace theme. In fact, the less you know, the better your character might react to the strange new realm.

Join us at jointhesaga.com 1790!

Visit our social networking site at http://otherversers.ning.com

And keep up with the Stolen Warrior online novel at http://stolenwarrior.blogspot.com

OtherSpace: New online novel!

2009-04-09T22:09:00.001-04:00

The first chapter of the new OtherSpace novel project has been posted in our new social networking site at http://otherversers.ning.com/profiles/blogs/otherspace-stolen-warrior

A new chapter will be posted each week until the novel is finished.

Enjoy!

New log posted!

2009-03-29T12:48:00.000-04:00

In the community site!

New JTS community site!

2009-03-28T21:54:00.000-04:00

We're setting up a new centralized community site for the games of Jointhesaga.com. Features of the new site include:

* Event calendar
* Player pages and blogs
* Web-based chatroom
* Forums
* Game information for OtherSpace and Necromundus

Basically, we're taking all the best features of having a Wiki, forums, and the JTS blog and putting them all in one place while giving more control of the content over to the players.

So, rather than having a character journal in a forum some folks might not know about, journals will get displayed on the front of the community page. Rather than having forums that are lost in the shuffle of information, active threads show up on the front of the community page. And, rather than having all our information for the game stored in various places (blog, Wiki, etc.), we'll offer it via tabs on the front of the community page.

In short: We want to make it easier to find each other AND the important stuff we and our newbies need to know.

If you want to join up and get started, feel free!

The site can be found at http://otherversers.ning.com

NOTE: It's still a work in progress, but starting activity NOW would be a good thing.

Thanks!

JTS: Now Twitterfied

2009-03-26T20:49:00.001-04:00

We've succumbed to the trend and joined Twitter, so follow us! http://twitter.com/Jointhesaga

Three Words No. 2: Time to vote!

2009-03-24T15:10:00.001-04:00

Vote for the submissions shown at http://www.jointhesaga.com/ovforums/index.php?topic=683.0

Winner gets a $15 Amazon.com gift certificate!

Spacers Come Home!

2009-03-23T21:44:00.000-04:00

Since 1998, OtherSpace has seen a lot of talented roleplayers come and go.

We've got a special offer for players who might consider returning to our evolving online epic adventure.

If you've ever had an approved character on OtherSpace and that character never had a resolved ending (killed, sent to prison, dropped in a nunnery), you may reclaim that character.

Just visit jointhesaga.com 1790, create a character, go through the setup process, and submit a brief 250-word biography explaining (generally) what that character has been up to during their absence.

Get fully re-approved based on the bio and you'll receive a bonus of 2,000 points to spend on your character's stats and skills.

Three Words: Enter now!

2009-03-22T13:42:00.003-04:00

Time is running out for the March installment of our Three Words writing competition! The deadline is Monday. Winner gets a $15 Amazon.com gift certificate and the privilege of picking the three words needed in the April competition.

Check out the current entries!

Genetic engineer helping Outversers fit in?

2009-03-18T18:37:00.001-04:00

COMORRO STATION - Feren Tudom, an Aukami genetic engineering specialist who has worked for decades in the city of Multvaros, is relocating his business to Comorro Station.

"It is my sincerest hope that I can use my well-honed skills to improve the quality of life of the refugees who have found themselves stranded in this universe, which must be so terribly strange to them," Tudom said.

Exactly what kind of help is the scientist offering? It's too early to be specific, he says.

"I have a plan, certainly, but first there are theories to explore, experiments to conduct, and results to digest," he said.

Tudom expects to open his new office in the refugee enclave within the next week.

Warcry says hi!

2009-03-18T18:27:00.002-04:00

Thanks to Warcry for the shout-out they gave to the games of Jointhesaga.com!

The dev interview runs until Monday, so if you've got any questions, head to the Fallen Earth forums and post in the thread. I'll answer as I can!

The latest visitor numbers

2009-03-14T10:13:00.001-04:00

How do you like numbers? I think they're great! So, let's see some!

In the past month, our blog at http://jointhesaga.blogspot.com got more than 1,000 visits, averaging about 3.53 minutes per visit.

Visitors are predominantly from the following countries: United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Australia, Ireland, and Italy. About 40 percent have been new visitors. More than half use Firefox. More than 90 percent use Windows. One of our visitors actually connected using a Wii.

Common search phrases that led people to us: Join the saga, OtherSpace, John Christian Falkenberg, danger of stress, and event cards.

Our top referring sites: Blogger, Google, Plattitudes (my personal blog), MUDdy Hobo (my blog on MUDing), furry.wikia.com, mudgamers.com, and Facebook.

Coming soon: Transparent Classes!

2009-03-13T11:26:00.001-04:00

From the desk of Anubis:

So for the past two weeks or so, staffers have been working on something that’s been dubbed Transparent Classes. We’re done with the planning stage of this, so it’s time to reveal our plans to you guys. Now, there’s good news and bad news with the implementation of this project. Let’s start with the bad news.

THE BAD NEWS: You’re all going to have to respec again. Yes, I know, it’s a pain, but I hope you’ll agree with me that this is going to be worth it, and the good news explains why.

THE GOOD NEWS: Personally, the best part about transparent classes is that you can take any skill that you want. Want to be a warrior who can throw fireballs at people? Now you can. Want to be a healer who’s really good at sneaking around? Now you can. There’s a catch though, all the skills are going to be pretty expensive at their base value. There’s more good news though, so don’t get discouraged. You get a 50 percent off deal for the skills of your chosen class. There’s even more, too. Introducing subclasses, each class has 5 different subclasses, and you get even more discounts, skills within your subclass are 1/6 the original price. With this we’ve had to come up with a total of 66 new skills, not all of which have abilities or immediate use, but with Fishy’s new combat system, putting in new abilities should be relatively easy to do, so these skills are going to come in handy if not just for RP. 2 of the new skills are replacing old skills, however, so it’s not /all/ brand new. And one final piece of good news, the skill limit? That’s pretty much out the window too, all that remains is that you can only have one legendary. Here’s the list of subclasses and skills, new skills are highlighted. Try to be thinking about what subclass you want to be (+String when you decide would be nice), so that when I manage to code this up we can set you up immediately. And if you have any suggestions for skills, +str it as well, we reserve the right to say no, but we’ll happily take a look at any suggestions!

Warrior:
Paladin: Heroic Measures, Two-Handed Sword, Shield, Retribution, Faith
Ranger: Endurance, Tracking, Bow, Protect, Dual Wield (Bow will replace two handed ballistics)
Berserker: Rage, Two-Handed Axe, Bloodlust, Havoc, Furry
Barbarian: Two-Handed Weapons, Warcry, , Cleave, Pillage, Brawn
Juggernaut: Two-Handed Axe, Defend, Bulldoze, Might, Maul

Rogue:
Thief: Pickpocket, Lockpick, Swindling, Legerdemain, Traps (Swindling to replace Cutpurse)
Bard: Poisons, Instruments, Serenade, Storytelling, Capriccio
Assassin: Stealth, Spiderclimb, Backstab, Sniping, Assassinate
Ninja: Stealth, Ninja Kick, Dagger, Acrobatics, Throwing
Poltergeist: Polearms, Mischief, Ventriloquism, Illuision, Invisibility

Healer:
Cleric: Minor Healing, Mace, Nullify, Cure, Envigor
Monk: Herbalism, Grappling, Chi, Meditation, Neutralize
Priest: Salvation, Major Healing, Prayer, Sanctify, Runes
Alchemist: Alchemy, Mining, Transmutation, Metallurgy, Salve
Vampire: Drain Life, Absorb, Defense Drain, Attack Drain, Hypnosis

Magic User:
Technomancer: Technomancy, Animation, Infusion, Creation, Electrical Magic
Wizard: Fire Magic, Water Magic, Air Magic, Wands, Battle Magic
Banshee: Wail, Warp, Shriek, Warp, Magic Drain, Wraith
Druid: Earth Magic, Anti-Magic, Staves, Enhance Flora, Summon Animal
Diviner: Teleportation, Divination, Danger Sense, Oracle, Shape Shift

Playing God contest winner: Silvereye!

2009-03-12T21:57:00.000-04:00

The staff considered several awesome submissions in this contest. Our final vote for the winner:

Silvereye!

He'll receive a $15 Amazon.com gift certificate for his effort.

We're not going to reveal the planet's concept here, however. You'll have to wait until you see it on the grid!

Thanks to everyone who participated!

Refugee reprieve announced

2009-03-12T21:55:00.000-04:00

COMORRO STATION - Just a little while longer.

The Yaralu known as Comorro Station has reduced power to several non-essential systems and cut off air filtration in some parts of the Forgotten Quarter to extend for perhaps as long as two weeks the deadline for getting half the current refugee population onto a planet while she hunts for special tissue-cleansing insects.

It is unknown how many casualties may result among the denizens of the Forgotten Quarter as a result of this action.

Event Cards - Clarification

2009-03-08T17:29:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that some players are under the impression that the new event cards are required for *anyone* to do *anything*. For example, you might need the Hostage card to take someone hostage or the Kidnap card to kidnap someone, etc. Effectively, this would neutralize player initiative in the game world. That is *not* the intent, purpose, or function of event cards.

Event cards are intended only as a means of individual players to issue a challenge to a specific admin referee, providing fodder for a storyline that is generated in cooperative fashion. Let's say Player X can't be around for big storyline events but still wants to have their character get into adventures on their time schedule - event cards could help with that.

Sorry for any confusion! If you have any questions, feel free to ask via +str, @mail, or on channels if I'm around and conscious.

OS: Farewell to Joker!

2009-03-07T21:35:00.002-05:00

Joker won't be staffing on OtherSpace anymore. College keeps him plenty busy these days. He carried the game through some tough times, for which I'm very grateful. We may still see Fulton showing up on occasion. Until then, we wish him well!

Medlidikke vow to keep hunting

2009-03-07T17:00:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Vard Bokren, leader of the Medlidikke pirates who have been hunting for the ship known as the Zero Gravi, today announced that he and his followers had not yet abandoned hope for the lost vessel.

In a transmission received by Comorro Station, Bokren said: "The Aukami have developed a nasty habit of losing ships lately. That's the *real* tragedy. Such an advanced civilization, yet they are lucky if they can find their own shoes to lace them. It is good that they have called off their search for the Zero Gravi. Better that they are not between the Medlidikke and our quarry when the time comes."

Search for outverser ship abandoned

2009-03-07T13:41:00.000-05:00

MULTVAROS, AUKAM - The search and rescue operation to locate a ship flying under a false pennant, believed to be that of the Zero Gravi, was abandoned earlier today. The search first started when the ship went missing en route from Multvaros on Aukam to Comorro. Unfortunately no sign of the ship or any wreckage has been located.

"It's truly tragic when a ship is lost," said a spokesperson for the Aukami Space Search and Rescue group. "However, this is one of the dangers that we must be mindful of. Which one of the many dangers of space befell this ship, we do not know. All we can do is extend our condolences and best wishes to the friends and family of those lost in this accident."

Comorro: Refugee reduction necessary within two weeks

2009-03-06T17:16:00.002-05:00

COMORRO STATION - The Yaralu known as Comorro Station has completed an atmospheric analysis and determined that at least half the current refugee population must be relocated within two weeks or she will start dying.

Pollutants created by the increased population can be cleansed by creatures called fanala beetles, but they are rare.

Comorro will spend the next few days scouring Hiverspace for a habitable world that some of the refugees can call home for a while. Those who remain aboard Comorro will be called upon to assist in the hunt for the scrubbing beetles.

Thul leader welcomes refugees

2009-03-06T14:31:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - An elite among the few surviving Thul says that his world would welcome any outverser refugees to help avert a resource depletion crisis aboard Comorro Station.

"Isssh leassshhht we can do," Shog the Ancient said. "I am ssshhhertain much could be learned. We have no ssshhhortage of land here."

The muddy, bleak landscape of Thullok - adopted homeworld of the dwindling species that allied itself with the Il'Ri'Kamm Hive Mind during the Hiver-B'hiri conflict - might not be terribly appealing to most people, though. Also discouraging: Rumors that the Thul might be responsible for kidnapping space travelers for genetic experimentation.

"We deny thesssshhhe outrageousssshhh liesssshhh and sssshhlanderoussssshhh assshhhaultsssshhh," Shog said.

Luck Card Trade-in Time!

2009-03-06T13:33:00.001-05:00

Do you have Luck Cards? We're phasing them out! They're no longer useful. However, you CAN trade them in, 1=1, for our new Lucky Break cards. Just post an +str and it'll get handled.

OtherSpace Open House Recruiting Bonus!

2009-03-06T09:56:00.001-05:00

New players who create characters during the open house weekend will receive a special bonus of 1000 Roleplaying Points to flesh out their characters.

Current players who bring in new players who create characters during the open house weekend will receive a special bonus of 500 Roleplaying Points.

+Listbadges update

2009-03-06T09:41:00.001-05:00

Colchek strikes again! +listbadges now displays badges one page at a time, including details about what they mean.

NOW AVAILABLE: Action Cards!

2009-03-05T23:33:00.001-05:00

The JTS Player Rewards Service Center now has an Action Card shop with a vendor who offers the following:

Action Card Deck: (10 RPP) Container that holds as many as 10 action cards. You must pick no more than three to use in any particular scene.
Gun Fu: (25-100 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus (Tier 1 is highest) to pistol skills when using a gun in each hand.
Whoa: (250-1000 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to ANY Reaction-based skill.
Yippy-ky-ay!: (250-1000 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to ANY Dexterity-based skill.
Juke and Weave: (25-100 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to piloting and driving.
Miracle Worker: (50-200 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to ANY Engineering skill.
Healing Hands: (50-200 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to ANY Medical skill.
The Blue Wire!: (25-100 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to Demolitions.
Safecracker: (25-100 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to Lockpicking.
Bookworm: (250-1000 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to ANY Intelligence-based skill.
Don't Know Jack: (25-100 RPP) +1 to +3 bonus to Intimidation.
Lucky Break: (500-1000 RPP) Good, Great, or Superb - roll at -2 in a near-death situation. Must get at least Poor to survive. May be countered by Killing Blow. (Replaces Luck Cards.)
Killing Blow: (1500-3000 RPP) Good, Great, or Superb - roll at -2 and get higher than the near-dead player's Lucky Break to ensure they die. Additional cost of 1000 RPP toward the player's next character. Killing Blow can't be dealt without having 1000 RPP available for transfer.

We'll be adding more very soon.

Hiverspace RP Award Nominees!

2009-03-05T22:24:00.001-05:00

Some categories got no proper nominations, so we won't be giving badges out for them this go-round. Also, we have an automatic winner in the Favorite Politician category: Silvereye! For the rest, send a list with your choice of 1 winner from each category to wes@jointhesaga.com:

Favorite Normalspace Refugee
Majors
Kestrel
Silvereye

Favorite Fastheldian Refugee
Naoi
Norran
Thayndor Zahir

Favorite Hekayti
Fridrik
Jorg
Cawl

Favorite Lotorian
Zuan
Lisostapa

Favorite Starship Commander
Finch
Cathal
Jest

Favorite Starship Crew
Zero Gravitas
Tharsis

Favorite Pilot
Zuan
Tharsis

Favorite Doctor
Marina
Alexandra

Favorite Scientist/Engineer
Lildrina
Finch
Kit

Favorite Soldier
Norran
Varal
Lucius

Favorite Politician
Silvereye (Unanimous winner)

Favorite Tradesman
Rathenhope
Frn'Zxk'Fkg

Favorite Hero
Aadzrian
Tharsis
Finch

Favorite Villain
Lucius
Sam Gideon
Vard

Favorite Pose - no nominations

Favorite Quote - no nominations

Favorite News Article

jan09-11: Glitch causes diplomatic gaffe - Comorro
jan09-5: Dribgib On the Loose - Comorro
jan09-6: Refugee to be auctioned as servant - Comorro

Favorite Wiki Page - no nominations

Favorite Character Journal/Story
Set the World on Fire (Tamila's Journal)
File #44522780 Letters to Rillitan (Tiana's Journal)
Dreams of Another Life (Starchaser's Musings)

Favorite Event (Player or Staff)
Salvage in Rigor Strand (Zero Gravitas)
The Glowing Plague (Comorro Station)
Plant Epidemic (Comorro Station)

Favorite Overall Roleplayer
Snowstreak
Kestrel
Finch

Winners get 1,000 RPP per category won! Deadline to vote is Saturday at 3 p.m. Eastern. Winners will be announced Saturday night during the open house.

New badges available!

2009-03-05T18:37:00.001-05:00

New badges are available on OtherSpace:

JTS Blog Follower: Become a follower of this blog!
Plattitudes Blog Follower: Become a follower of my official blog, linked from this page.
MUDdy Hobo Follower: Become a follower of the MUDdy Hobo blog at http://muddyhobo.blogspot.com
JTS Blog Author: Become an author on this blog.
OS Newbie Helper: Get approved by the staff as an official newbie helper.
March Madness 2009 Fundraiser: Contribute any amount during our March Madness fundraiser.
Mildly Mad Contributor 2009: Give at least $25 during the fundraiser.
Loony Contributor 2009: Give at least $50 during the fundraiser.
Rabid Contributor 2009: Give at least $100 during the fundraiser.

March Madness Fundraiser!

2009-03-05T18:03:00.001-05:00

It's that time again! We're raising money toward our marketing and server costs! If you can afford to contribute, use the PayPal button on this page!

Contributors get badges commemorating their generosity!

New MUSH tutorial/Provisional Approval!

2009-03-04T23:30:00.001-05:00

As we gear up for this weekend's OtherSpace open house, I'm pleased to announce our new in-game MUSH tutorial and provisional character approval.

Basically, you just need to run the gauntlet of character creation and then enter the main grid aboard Comorro Station. You can observe RP and interact. When you're ready to become a full-fledged non-newbie, you can submit a character biography.

Hope you can stop by!

jointhesaga.com 1790

Ambassador offers shelter

2009-03-04T22:36:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Okaskatitch, the B'hiri ambassador currently visiting aboard Comorro Station, wants to help alleviate the Yaralu's respiratory problems.

"Our vessel, the Harrower, is within hailing range," the ambassador said. "The ship is large, with minimal crew and ample room for several thousand refugees."

Comorro has indicated that she will consider the offer and make a decision within a few days.

Atmosphere filtering tissues faltering

2009-03-04T19:37:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - The Yaralu known as Comorro Station appears to be suffering some difficulty breathing with all the atmospheric pollutants provided by the recent influx of more than 50,000 refugees.

Tests of the station's filtration tissue throughout the vessel show that carbon dioxide and other elements exhaled or produced by the refugees may be causing irreparable harm.

It is possible to cleanse and revitalize the tissue, but it can only be done through the introduction of a rare species of creature known as a fanala beetle.

Three Words No. 1: Winning Entry

2009-03-04T10:56:00.003-05:00

Here's the winning entry from our first Three Words contest in February 2009:

Refugee
by Dave Sands

Years ago I had left my home, aboard a ship named Sanctuary. It was the biggest ship ever built, the peak of jump technology. I was young, but I remember my mother, trying to hide her tears from me. Her eyes were puffy and red. It’s an image that has stuck with me. I didn’t understand then why my father had to stay behind. I guess I still don’t, but that was a long time ago.

I wonder if mom is okay. I wonder if she’s lost in time and space, or if she’s just dead. When it was all going to hell, I tried to find her. But it all happened so fast. Here I was, a refugee once again, crammed into the cargo hold of some ship with a name I couldn’t pronounce. One of the crew had asked me if I needed anything, a blanket or a pillow, and I couldn’t help but laugh. We were the last humans alive in all of time, if I understood things right, and this guy is playing flight attendant.

And just like that, we were back on Comorro Station. I didn’t get to see it the first time, just on the news. Some people seem to be tied up in everything that is going on in the universe. Every explosion, every murder, there are a few people who always seem to be around in the right place at the right time. Not me. I try to avoid that stuff. My mother ingrained that into me. Stay out of trouble, keep your head down. If you don’t look for trouble, trouble won’t look for you. So I distanced myself from the refugees. Work was easy enough to come by as a mechanic.

It’s hard to say exactly when it started, but I’m pretty sure it was shortly after arriving. I first noticed it when eating. It was subtle. I had taken a few bites, but when I looked back, my meal was whole again. Then later, when I was working on a ship, it seemed I’d blacked out a bit. The repairs were finished, but I didn’t remember finishing them. Still, I didn’t think much of these things and the memories came back eventually. I thought maybe the fumes from the fuel.

I had a dream soon after. Not a dream, but I thought it was. Comorro was dead, her flesh decaying. The smell was horrific. We were stuck, starving. All the ships that could help us had been destroyed or had left and weren’t coming back. I didn’t know what happened at first, but slowly the memories came back. There had been an attack, rogue Hekayti. It happened fast, but I was only beginning to remember. And then it was morning in my room, Comorro was fine. The memories slowly faded, as dreams often did.

The blackouts had continued, and were getting worse. I would lose whole parts of the day. I went to bed on Thursday, and woke up the previous Tuesday. Déjà vu became common place. Maybe you’ve figured it out already. I hadn’t yet, but to hear about it is very different than living it. You are objective, looking at this from the outside. At the time, I was sure I was suffering from a serious head injury or something similar.

So I went to see a doctor. His scanner showed nothing. Post traumatic stress disorder, he told me. I had lost my home, my mother. It was natural that my mind was cracking under the stress. But that wasn’t it. What did I care if my home had been destroyed? I’d been moving from place to place since I was ten. And sure, I was sad for my mother, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. Truth was, the move to Comorro felt fairly commonplace to me.

But that’s when it really started to fall apart for me. It was no longer days I was skipping. It was years, backwards and forwards. I was a child on Earth. I was setting off on my own at sixteen. The past was easy to figure out. The future was harder. How many years had passed? I had a lot more stuff in my room; I looked older in the mirror. The memories would come back if I stayed there, but then fade when I left. Still, like a dream, if I thought long enough it would come back to me.

I kept returning to that future of death and decay. Hungry, resigned. Some began to feed on the dead. But it didn’t matter because we were all going to die. Once, I had gone farther than I had been before. There were only a handful of us left. I too had succumbed to my hunger, feasted on the corpses of those who had passed. But everything was eaten or rotten. It was hard to think, I was fading in and out of consciousness. I felt my life slipping away from me. And then I was back in the present. Past, present, future. Those words meant so little to me now. You could ask how long this had been going on, but how could I answer?

I was working with a Hekayti in one of the airlocks, he didn’t talk much. He kept glancing over at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice. I was leaving Sanctuary with my mother, not understanding how hundreds of years had passed. Now I understood though, I understood how nonlinear time really was. I was listening to an argument in the docking hub. I was fixing a ship on Sivad. I was losing at poker. I was dying, starving.

There was panic and fire all around me. A bomb had just gone off in the docking hub. Ships were destroyed, and people were dead. Explosions rattled the whole station. I saw the Hekayti through the smoke, slipping into a shuttle. I knew him, had worked with him a few times. And I knew he had done this, but I knew I had figured it out too late. And we were all going to die.

I was working with a Hekayti on one of the airlocks, he didn’t talk much. He kept glancing over at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice. And my life, my memories, all came flooding back. All of them, from birth to death, were laid out before me. I knew him, and I knew what he would do. So I write this, wrote this, am writing this, so you will know, so someone will know. I’ve never killed before. But I have died. And so have you all. And I can’t keep you from dying, but I can keep you from the death I saw.

I can lock the airlock, so he can’t override it, but only from the inside. We’ll both die. I think this is what I was supposed to do all along. This is why I became a refugee in time. I know there were a few races out there that liked to play at God. Maybe one of them did this to me so I could change the future.

I had left my home, aboard a ship named Sanctuary. It was the biggest ship ever built, the peak of jump technology. I was young, but I remember my mother, trying to hide her tears from me. Her eyes were puffy and red. I was in the airlock, I am in the airlock …

New badge system online!

2009-03-03T17:24:00.002-05:00

Colchek has finished work on the new badge system. If you want to see the 74 badges currently available, type +listbadges. I'll be importing badges from character Wiki pages over the next couple of days. You can type +sheet/badges to see your collection of badges and their JTS Faction Point value. You can type +sheet/badges [character] to see the badges earned by other players.

+Kudos to Col!

Whose MUSH is it anyway?

2009-03-02T16:58:00.000-05:00

We've been chugging along on OtherSpace for more than a decade with lots of staff-driven storylines. Feedback in recent months has pointed to a desire for players to see fewer universe-shattering events and more smaller plots.

I, on the other hand, have always been a fan of PLAYERS taking the lead on making things happen. However, they don't always have a good starting point in mind and fall back on letting staffers drive the story.

But now we've got Event Cards. I think these are going to be awesome. Players buy them with RP Points and then "deal" the cards to their staffer of choice. The staffer then builds an adventure on-the-fly using the cards as a source of inspiration. It creates a creative compromise, with both sides playing roles in an improvisational interaction. First, the player throws a challenge at the staffer, using as many as three cards. Then, the staffer throws the challenge right back to the player in the form of an exciting adventure.

With this system, players hold the power to determine the *kinds* of activities we run on the game. They can pick and choose staffers to handle their events. And staffers should get a lot of amusement out of juggling multiple cards and turning them into memorable adventures.

They should keep the storytelling fresh and inventive, with more even ground between what players expect and what staffers deliver.

Event cards ought to serve to really set us apart!

OS: Player Reward Services Center opens!

2009-03-02T00:25:00.001-05:00

The Player Reward Services Center is now open adjacent to the OOC area on OtherSpace. Wander through the exit marked PRS to find out more.

OS: Event Card RPP Costs

2009-03-01T23:41:00.001-05:00

As promised, here's how many RP Points you can expect to spend on Event Cards. (NOTE: You'll need 50 JTS Faction Points to get access to the vendor who sells these cards):

Nick of Time: 300 RPP
Disaster Movie: 300 RPP
Monster of the Week: 200 RPP
Cloak and Dagger: 500 RPP
Mistaken Identity: 400 RPP
Switcheroo: 1000 RPP
OtherFlash: 800 RPP
Kamir Artifact: 1000 RPP
Murder Mystery: 200 RPP
Mad Bomber: 300 RPP
Hostage: 400 RPP
Kidnapped: 600 RPP
Trade Run: 100 RPP
Chef's Choice: 100 RPP
Diplomatic Visit: 300 RPP
Salvage Run: 100 RPP
Alternate Reality: 1000 RPP
Safari: 200 RPP
Stranded: 500 RPP
Contagion: 600 RPP
Bounty Hunt: 100 RPP
Exploration: 1000 RPP
Hitman: 600 RPP
FTL and Furious: 100 RPP
Invention: 400 RPP

Necromundus: A farewell to Ramuh

2009-03-01T20:10:00.002-05:00

It's time for another departure, this one from Necromundus, as Ramuh moves on to other things. Citing a lack of time to commit, Ramuh stepped down during tonight's staff meeting. Best of luck, Ramuh!

OtherSpace Open House: March 7-8, 2009

2009-03-01T13:12:00.001-05:00

Saturday, March 07 2009

1:00PM OS Open House Begins!
1:30PM Panel: Effective character descriptions
2:30PM Panel: Ten Years and Still Going
3:30PM Exhibition: Improv Bar Scene
4:30PM Exhibition: Combat Scene
5:30PM Panel: Making memorable heroes and villains
7:00PM OS Roleplaying Awards Ceremony

Sunday, March 08 2009

2:30PM Panel: Characters that work
3:00PM Playing God contest entry deadline
3:30PM Panel: Working with a Wiki
4:30PM Panel: Player Rewards and Incentives
5:30PM Panel: Promotional Concepts
6:30PM Panel: Character Journals - Beyond the MUSH
11:00PM OS Open House Ends!

OS: JTS Faction Points - 2/28

2009-02-28T15:06:00.001-05:00

The current scoreboard for JTS Faction Points has been posted in the forums at http://www.jointhesaga.com/ovforums/index.php?topic=671.0

Farewell: Ifrit and Dice

2009-02-27T14:40:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to take a moment to let folks know that Ifrit and Dice have elected to step down as staffers from OtherSpace. They've got a lot on their plate getting Elan Vital (a new MUSH) up and running.

We wish them all the luck in the world. It's not easy starting up a new MUSH, especially an original theme, and particularly during an age when we're competing with graphical MMORPGs. However, they're talented folks and I'm sure they'll flourish.

They put a lot of hard work into OtherSpace during the past couple of years. It's much appreciated.

Event Cards!

2009-02-25T19:49:00.000-05:00

Something new is cooking on the JTS stove, inspired by recent complaints that People Were Feeling Cooped Up.

Event Cards! A more ambitious older brother to the upcoming Action Card, these are cards that will require at least 50 JTS Faction Points to access and various RPP amounts to purchase. What do they do? Well, first, these cards provide instant fodder for quick missions. You buy a Salvage Run card, post an +str for yourself and your crew, and a staffer runs the event ASAP. If you have at least 75 JTS points, you can take it up a notch by throwing a 2-card combo at the staffer. And, finally, if you've got at least 100 JTS points, you can challenge the staffer to put on a 3-card combo.

I've got a list of potential event card themes that includes Monster of the Week, Disaster Movie, Mistaken Identity, Safari, Stranded, Exploration, Trade Run, and I'm Bored (basically, a chef's choice card where you let the staffer pick one event theme). Before I finalize the list and costs, I wanted the players to throw me some ideas for event archetypes. Post your own suggestion lists via +str. Thanks!

OtherSpace Contest: Playing God

2009-02-24T20:38:00.000-05:00

As we look ahead to eventual expansion of the grid on OtherSpace, I got to thinking of new planets for players to colonize. Now, I've got a tool that will allow me to create random planets based on specific types of terrains. However, that doesn't make for the most interesting worlds to discover and call home.

So, I thought, maybe *players* would want to have a hand in determining the new worlds that are out there to be found.

Thus, a contest. You propose an idea for a planet via +str - a bio for the world of at least 250 words. It should NOT be a civilized planet. Staffers will pick a handful of these for consideration. If we pick your world, you get a $15 Amazon.com gift certificate. Deadline: March 8!

Mini-Rant: "Are We There Yet?

2009-02-23T19:48:00.003-05:00

It has come to my attention that some folks feel a bit bound up on Comorro Station and that they'd be happier if they could just get off-station every once in a while for an adventure. Apparently, there are some folks who don't bother logging in because they think it's pointless. Where can they go? What can they do? There's just this ONE grid! OHMYGODTHEWALLS, THEY'RECLOSINGIN!

If you're one of these people, I say: Take a breath and relax.

Although the main grid is limited to Comorro Station and the ships docked there, it isn't like we want you to stay on the station all the time. Some player groups already get this: Zero Gravitas went on a scavenging run to Rigor Strand and came back with two story arc hooks (but never OOCly left the Comorro docking hub), Jest's crew has been out and about, Tharsis has done some roaming.

You might be thinking: "OMG, FAVORITEZ!" And you'd be precisely wrong. The players in charge of the crews on these vessels posted +strs asking for off-station adventures and we provided them. It's about that simple.

I can't guarantee that you can ask *tonight* for a big adventure, but you can post the +str, get an answer, and probably have something going within a week.

Having stuff to do, in this bold new environment of OtherSpace, is largely in your hands. We're here to facilitate, but it has been expressed time and again that players prefer their own inspired activities rather than a constant flurry of staff-driven events. OS will continue to have admin-crafted storylines, but day-to-day - that's up to you, the players.

Bored? Restless? Do something about it!

Missing Aukami ship sighted on Comorro

2009-02-22T17:41:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - The missing Aukami diplomatic vessel Alkuzart was seen today aboard Comorro Station, under the command of Vard Bokren, leader of the Medlidikke pirates.

The ambassador who had been aboard the ship was reportedly killed by pirates. During a refueling stop on Comorro, Bokren indicated that he was returning the ship to the rightful owners on Aukam.

The kill-on-sight order for all Medlidikke on Aukam makes that claim rather dubious.

Shadowtrapper killed on station

2009-02-22T17:40:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - A shadowtrapper was discovered and killed aboard Comorro Station today. The creature, which moves through shadows and feeds on psionic sentients, was in the process of attacking another refugee when it was destroyed.

It is believed that the creature may have caused the death of a Vollistan Light Singer last week.

It is unknown whether more shadowtrappers remain aboard Comorro. Most weaponry is useless against the creatures, but electric current is lethal to them.

Diplomatic ship missing and presumed lost

2009-02-21T13:12:00.001-05:00

MULTVAROS, AUKAM - A diplomatic transport carrying Ambassador Andros Kazd, bound for Comorro Station to meet with B'hiri emissary Okaskatitch, has been reported missing by officials in the Cepelem, Aukam's ruling body.

The ship, identified as the Alkuzart, had been due to arrive at Comorro Station last night. Attempts to hail the Alkuzart thus far have been unsuccessful.

OtherSpace: Mardi Gras Week!

2009-02-20T14:20:00.004-05:00

It's Mardi Gras time! Starting today, Feb. 20, and lasting until Feb. 28, we'll give 500 bonus RP points to all new approved characters that join us on OtherSpace at jointhesaga.com 1790 and give the following code in their application questionnaire: beadtoss2009.

For current or returning characters, post an +str titled "Throw Me Beads" during the celebration period and you'll get a bonus of 250 RP points.

Refugee hydroponics garden suffers setback

2009-02-20T12:29:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - After demonstrating encouraging results, the hydroponics garden set up by the refugees that have taken up residence on the station has taken a turn for the worse. In recent days many of the plants have begun to wilt and die, slowly being covered in patches of white growths. However, only the plants native to Hiverspace have been affected, which has baffled many of the farmers. Efforts are underway to combat this potential catastrophe as it threatens to reduce the food supplies of the refugee encampment's inhabitants.

Vollistan refugee found dead

2009-02-19T23:17:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - A Vollistan Light Singer who arrived with refugees from Hancock Station was found dead this evening in his makeshift quarters in the recently built homestead zone of the Comorrite Hub.

The Light Singer, identified as Volanlazol, was relatively young by Vollistan standards and, according to a recent physical examination, was suffering from no readily apparent maladies.

The cause of death remains under investigation by station security, but foul play is not indicated at this time.

Medlidikke offers reward for ship and crew

2009-02-18T22:45:00.000-05:00

BROAD SWEEP TRANSMISSION INTERCEPT - The holovid displays the image of a dark-green skinned Hekayti with a bald scalp, polished black horns and teal splotches. He has pale gray eyes beneath a scrunched brow. None of him is visible below the smashed-looking nose. A voice, apparently his, begins to speak:

"It is a rare thing for the Medlidikke to seek help from the inferior creatures that share our galaxy. We are a self-sufficient people. We would like nothing better than to dance upon the ashes of your precious empires and civilizations. However, we seek a specific starship and would rather not waste our time on the hunt. So, I am offering 100,000 Hekayti credits to whoever can deliver the ship that destroyed our comrade in Rigor Strand. The ship...and the crew. Yes. I want them too. They have much to tell us, I think."

The transmission ends.

Crafting - An Update

2009-02-17T19:47:00.001-05:00

We've been holding off on doing anything with crafting (and, by extension, Action Cards) while we waited for Ifrit to get some free time to come up with an alternative to System 4.0. Due to his current schedule, that alternative's not coming anytime soon. So, sorry for the delay, but we will soon be moving to get a few new toys into the system for you to play with using System 4.0!

New Player Appreciation Gizmos

2009-02-17T12:23:00.002-05:00

We want to ramp up our player appreciation on OtherSpace and Necromundus. So, here's what I've got coming down the pipe in the way of special staff commands that will reward you with JTS Faction Points or Roleplaying Points (RPP):

Moose Antlers!

When I check in and check out on the game, I'll run this command, which distributes 1 JTS Faction Point to everybody online at the time.

Moose Stampede!

When we receive a donation of at least $5 toward server and marketing costs, we'll wait until the period between 4 p.m. and midnight Eastern. Sometime during that period, we'll distribute 8 RPP per donation to all players that are online and in RP mode.

Extra! Extra!

Every time we post a news article, we'll distribute 3 RPP to all players that are online and in RP mode.

Bravo!

Every time a player hosts/coordinates an RP event, we'll distribute 10 RPP to all players who are online and in RP mode.

Newbie!

Every time a new character enters the grid, all players online and in RP mode get 6 RPP.

Next!

When a staffer completes an +str, we'll distribute 1 JTS Faction Point to all players online at the time.

Busy Librarian!

When we get word of a new log in the OtherVerse Wiki, all players online and in RP mode get 4 RPP.

Pack the Seats!

Occasionally, when we've got 40+ characters online, we'll reward all players online with 3 JTS Faction Points.

Review!

When we learn a review has been posted on the web, we'll reward all players online with 10 JTS Faction Points.

Fan Appreciation!

When we learn about a player-created website inspired by OtherSpace or Necromundus, we'll reward all online with 25 JTS Faction Points.

I hope to have all these commands implemented and working by the end of this week.

Marvel starship shows off at Rigor Strand

2009-02-16T20:33:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - A Lotorian scavenger returned last night from Rigor Strand with footage of a craft that managed to outmaneuver a Medlidikke stalker craft in the asteroid field, using only navigational shields.

"It wazzz mozzzt amazzzzing thing I ever seen, yezzzz," Oloboz Skitirn told CNB. "Ship, it juzzzt bounzzze off rockzzz and make rockzzz bounce other wayzzz. Medlidikke want to shootzzz, yezzz, but can't!"

A close-up of the hull of the astounding starship showed the name "Zero Gravi."

"I don't know what name meanzzz, but I wantzzz!" Skitirn said. "I wantzzz very much, yezzz!"

Comorro thwarts Medlidikke attack

2009-02-15T19:11:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Shortly after the arrival of Ambassador Okaskatitch, Medlidikke pirates attacked Comorro Station this afternoon. The Yaralu responded with evasive maneuvers, followed by the deployment of defensive web-tanglers that ensnared the pirates and neutralized their vessels.

Comorro then proceeded to consume the ships to satisfy dietary requirements.

No injuries were reported within Comorro. The ambassador's visit continues.

Meeting Okaskatitch: 2/15/2009

2009-02-15T18:24:00.001-05:00

Docking Hub - Comorro Station

Comorro Station isn't exactly a station. It doesn't remain in any one place for a significant span of time. It is, in all accuracy, a massive starship - incapable of atmospheric flight - that has been roaming the stars on a voyage that some say has lasted for more than 90-million years.

The vessel is a Yaralu, a sentient spacefaring vessel. Her true full name cannot be spoken in a single day, but is shortened for convenience to Comorro. Several epochs ago, after her final era of fertility ended, she converted the gray-green ribbed chamber of her womb into a docking hub for smaller Yaralu and non-organic vessels. She made it known to the denizens of Hiverspace that she would serve as a neutral outpost for traders and diplomats.

Use of energy and projectile weapons is prohibited aboard Comorro. Violators will be absorbed into the vessel's nutrient replenishment matrix. She is capable of monitoring almost all chambers within the station for illegal weapons, but some areas - such as the Forgotten Quarter - are lost to her neural pathways and sensory organs.

A makeshift ramp has been built about thirty feet from Zero Gravitas' airlock from a crate and a light armor plate, with no apparent purpose.

Several Lotorian techs scamper into the hub, clearing cables, workbenches, and toolboxes from an open docking berth.

"Unfortunatly, here I am." Jerry responds, dropping off the crate with a solid thunk of his entirely metaphysical weight on the deck. "Is that disappointment I hear, Kestrel? Here I thought we were friends. Apparently, absence does not make the heart fonder."

Grayback catches sight of the Lotorian techs working to clear the docking birth, and raises a bushy eyeridge. "Must be expecting company." he mutters, moving a bit closer to observe.

Sara holds her bag tighter when the Lotorians start in, and she blinks at them curiously, still keeping out of the way.

"N-n-no," Kes says, shaking her head. That paper's clutched even more tightly in her fist. Finally, with a somewhat strangled cry, she darts forward, losing her cigarette in the process, and latching onto Jerry like a frightened kitten. Or at least, that seems to be what she intends to do, anyway.

Once the Lotorians finish clearing the berth, they scurry back toward the levimodule. The doors hiss shut just before red orbs flash above the docking hub's shielded opening onto the stars. Beyond the maw of the bay, an angular vessel with a gunmetal gray hull striped red and blue makes a final approach.

Jerry is certainly put off by the sudden movement, as he is glomped upon, one hand resting on the woman's head and fussing with the hair. "It's good to see you too, love." He looks over her shoulder at the approaching vessel, but does not make mention of it. "Still too skinny for your own good, but I didn't think getting tossed through space would teach you the value of a good meal. How is everyone else? They're still alive?"

Grayback looks up from the cleared berth to the approaching vessel beyond, stepping back from the berth a bit as the ship prepares to enter the bay.

Sara watches as the Lotorians finish up, and then her head tilts to get a view of the ship coming in. She doesn't offer any words yet though, just a look of curiosity.

Kestrel actually sniffles and scrubs at her eyes with the back of one hand, though she manages a short laugh somewhere in there. "I eat like a 'Kari-cursed cow, what're ya talkin' 'bout." She doesn't notice the ship. Probably cause she's, you know, got her face half-buried in Jerry's chest and all. "'Ey're 'live," she says after a moment, the agreement somewhat muffled.

The newly arrived vessel slides into the docking hub and maneuvers to settle into the recently cleared berth. The red orbs shift to a soothing green. Retrojets hiss and locking clamps thud as the vessel completes the landing.

"That's good." Jerry responds, "I need to touch base with them soon. I can only hope everyone's reaction as sweet and authentic as yours... though, I think I'd prefer it if Sheppard didn't hug me. Is something wrong though? I never known you to be the emotional.. well, yes I have." A dull chuckle, "C'mon, we got an important guest, and a crowd gatherin' around it. Would you like to check that out?"

Grayback watches and waits as the ship finishes landing, his eyes riveted to the hatch.

Sara too stands, watching and waiting in awe as the ship docs. Her bag is forgotten for now as she takes a few steps forward.

Sara stands near the tradeport along with Grayback. Near the Zero Gravitas is Kes and Jerry and just docking is a gunmetal grey ship with red and blue striping.

"Shep gives good hugs though," Kes mumbles, then looks up at Jerry and grins. "Yeah, prob'ly oughta let go'a ya now, 'ey?" She does, and looks over toward the gathering crowd, starting that way. Of course, she stoops to pick up her lost cigarette, still smoldering on the floor of the docking bay.

The hatch of the emissary vessel opens and a smooth metal ramp extends to thump against the organic surface of the docking bay.

Silvereye steps into the docking hub from the tradeport, adjusting the fit of his jacket. His attention quickly goes to the newly arrived ship, and, on an assumption, he tentatively heads towards it.

"I wasn't complaining." Jerry notes, following in her wake. "It's like they have never seen a ship before. Though, perhaps this one is special. Has their been an announcement for a VIP to arrive? Oh, maybe a blue-skinned erotic beauty from some obscure world, filled with mysticism. Did you know, most barbarian cultures favored less clothing then excess. Unless they were born in a climate where such behavior will get you killed. I certainly hope that whoever is coming out of this exciting little vessel is from a subtropical world. I could use a flash of off-hue breast to ease the transition. The Heykati? They just do not do it for me, I am afraid."

From the emissary vessel emerges a six-legged arachnoid creature, glossy black chitinous shell shot through with streaks of silver, with glittering black compound eyes. Slowly, it descends the ramp, sharp tips of its legs making tap-tap-tap sounds as they go.

Okaskatitch: About nine feet in length and five feet high, this arachnoid creature is glossy black with streaks of silver on its thorax. It has six angular, sharp-tipped segmented legs that it uses for locomotion. The creature views the world around it through glittering black orbs - compound eyes that look like clusters of obsidian grapes. It has sharp-edged mandibles jutting from its rounded head, below the eye clusters.

Grayback widens his eyes a bit as Okaskatitch disembarks from the newly arrived vessel. "So... he has arrived." he mutters, his tail twitching a bit as he watches the alien ambassador.

Silvereye moves towards Grayback once he spots the other Demarian. "I don't think I've ever seen a B'hiri before." He remarks upon arriving. "Lotorians and Heyakti, yes...So that's Okaskatitch."

The airlock hatch on the Silver Streak cycles, allowing a few of the residents of the refugee vessel to disembark, spreading out this direction and that on their various personal errands. Among them comes Quicksilver, ears rotating to examine the goings on. Once free of the little knot of refugees, the silver Demarian sets a course for the crowd watching the B'hiri ambassador arrive.

Sara just watches in awe, her steps taking her toward the two Demarians, "Neither have I.." she says in awe, "...I wonder what language they speak, what technology they have.."

Kestrel blinks and looks down at herself. "...You callin' me a barbarian?" she asks hesitantly, looking sidewise to Jerry. "...Huh. Guess mebbie I am." She purses her lips then, thoughtful. "Mmmm. Somethin' 'bout some 'mbassader 'r other... oh, whoa." She fairly gapes at the B'hiri. Good thing she hadn't put the cigarette back in her mouth yet, or she'd only have lost it again. "'Kari's sword, what's -'at-?"

"No idea, but not what I would like. It's a bloody giant spider. Impressive, to be sure, but it still does not explain why it is he has such a gathering. Must be a VIP." Jerry says, watching the creature stalk down from it's ramp. He looks back to Kestrel, to answer her question. "You are a little barbaric, but it's charming instead of obnoxious, I assure you."

The B'hiri gets to the bottom of the ramp and tick-tap-ticks in a slow semicircle to regard those who have gathered for its arrival. "I am Okaskatitch, emissary of the B'hiri. These appear to be auspicious times aboard Comorro. Many new faces. Strange, as well." The glittering compound eyes settle on Grayback. "Yet some are not so new. Just...weathered?"

Grayback raises an eyeridge, proceeding on a hunch. "Since the last time we once saw each other... quite weathered." he says.

Artemis' airlock hisses and opens up, and out steps Madeline. She yawns and stretches some and looks around. Her eyes are drawn quickly to the giant spider; she makes a face, then makes a retreat to the tradeport.

Silvereye lets Grayback take the point on this one, remaining slighty behind him as he speaks with the emissary. He can't help but smile a bit.

Quicksilver turns his head to see what or who the B'Hiri is looking at as he nears the cluster of onlookers, pausing mid-step as ears and whiskers flatten....held a beat, before they come back forward and he mutters in a rumbling baritone growl, "So few saved....he *would* be one of them." He proceeds nearer to the cluster, crossing arms over his armored chest.

Sara leans in toward Grayback, "You know..him...her...it?" she asks curiously.

"...I ain't -never- seen a spider 'at big, even on teekay," Kes breathes, watching the B'hiri warily as it skitters past. Now she finally does take a drag off her cigarette -- gross. She looks toward Grayback, her expression thoughtful.

Okaskatitch moves closer to Grayback, reflecting the Demarian's visage myriad times in its compound eyes. "I last saw you nearly two months ago. Most intriguing."

"Well, Dorothy, we are no longer 'on' Tomin Kora. Or even in the same time period, or galaxy. So, sure, giant spiders interested in chatting up Demarians... not so hard to swallow. I wonder if that is what they hunt. That would be a poor start for an emissary, but from what I understand, Comorro generally dislikes us anyway so perhaps he'll get a little medal for thinning the flock."

Grayback looks back to Sara, nodding. "Oh yes... we've met." he says, before looking back to Okaskatitch. "Yes.. from your perspective, it has indeed only been a short time. For me... it has been over 10 years since our time aboard the Harrower, and the defeat of the Hivers." he says, brushing his muzzle a bit. "A bit more gray since then." he says with a bit of a grin.

Sara smiles and offers a nod to Grayback, blinking when he explains the time difference, "Is that...because time moves different here from where we came from?" she asks curiously.

"It would be a very long story, to relate how we got from there back to here." Silvereye adds to Grayback's account. "But it's always welcome to find familiar links."

Thayndor Zahir steps down from the Raider's ramp, adjusting his coat and shooting his cuffs.

Quicksilver perks his ears towards the exchange between B'Hiri and Demarian, tail lashing a moment behind him before he gives a sharp snort as if dismissing a distasteful scent from his nostrils. That done, he strides closer amongst the crowd, moving towards the opposite side of Silvereye from where Grayback stands, planting himself there. "Very long indeed. We rarely travel less than 300 years a story," he observes with a slight curl of amusement on his muzzle, tail waving lazily.

The B'hiri shifts its attention to Silvereye. Tap-tick-tick-tap. "Ah, you must be the new Minister of Outverser Affairs. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Kestrel looks up at Jerry and wrinkles her nose. "I -know-," she says, a touch irritably. "Butcha gotta admit we had some pretty 'Kari-cursed big spiders." She blinks blankly. "I don' git how 'ey know each others." A hand is rubbed through her hair, her expression puzzled as she looks back to the Ambassador.

Grayback lets Silvereye take over at this point, looking back to Quicksilver, his expression neutral, but he looks at him for several long moments before looking back to Okaskatitch.

"We did have some big ass spiders," Jerry says with a smile. "Hmm, perhaps that is a question best left for them to answer. In the land we live in, assumptions are... dangerous."

Silvereye inclines his head slightly towards Okaskatitch as the emissary addresses him. "I am Silvereye Paintedheart." He offers his name. "It is an honor to meet you and one of your people."

Sara just stands by, falling silent for now.

Quicksilver draws himself up to his full height, tail making lazy figure eights behind him as he watches Grayback as Grayback watches him. Whiskers twitch, before he suggests in a low rumble. "New world, new start, Grayback? The universe seems amusingly incapable of killing either of us. It would seem a shame to expend time assisting its attempts, don't you think?"

"The honor is mine," Okaskatitch replies. "If I can be of any assistance, you have but to ask." The B'hiri then rotates - tap-tap-tick - to regard others gathered in the chamber. "We are many of us strangers at this meeting. It is my hope, however, that --" The comment breaks off as the B'hiri skitters and twirls, trying to maintain composure as the Yaralu shudders under the impact of some kind of blast. Comorro banks hard to port.

Over a loudspeaker, the station's avatar broadcasts: "Secure all stations. Medlidikke."

Grayback looks back to Quicksilver. "Indeed... such is my feeling as well. Perhaps..." he says before he is cut off by the blast. "What in the name of Altheor!? What are Medlidikke!?" he shouts as the station starts to take evasive action.

Jerry slides hard right, uninspectedly jarred. Though, somewhat subconciously, he reaches out to steady Kestrel. Much like a mother will throw her arm over her child's chest when they come to a hard stop. "What the bloody hell!"

Amanda comes rushing in from th tradeport with her somewhat trademark lateness, trying to find a spot to see and here whle remaining unobtrusive just as the station rocks and she falls flat on her face

"'Kari curse it all, 'at's 'em guys we ran from," Kes calls up to Jerry. The Later shifts her weight seemingly without thought, her balance not suffering at all as the ship shifts, though she does latch onto the Sivadian's arm with one hand. She looks over to Grayback then. "Pirates!" she calls helpfully.

Silvereye staggers, holding his arms out to catch himself in case he falls. "That's a damned good question..." He growls to Grayback. "Who would attack Comorro?" He attention then goes to Quicksilver, though a quick glance is spared towards Kestrel in appreciation at her clarification. "Lock it all down...If they try to board through the docking hub we need to be ready."

"Hekayti pirates," the B'hiri offers by way of clarification. "The worst kind I know of. No parlay. No negotiations. I fear they may have followed my ship to locate Comorro."

There are reasons Quicksilver's Demarian designed armor has claw-holes in the boots. This is one of them, as the shock to the station brings gleaming talons to emerge through the Demarian's boots, screeching slightly on the metal as they try to keep him stable. He rotates an ear towards Kestrel's clarification as well, tail flickering sharply before he grunts, "Right...." Eyes shift to Grayback, then Silvereye, "Who needs weapons? I've got more than a few on the Streak....shall we arm up to repel boarders?"

"Great... just great... and I thought this was going to be a good day." Grayback growls, his ears folding back and his tail going into a fast twitch as the adrenaline kicks in. Looking back to Quicksilver, he nods. "If Comorro would make an exception in this case, then I say we had best be prepared. She can't fault us for acting to preserve her... or ourselves."

"There will be no boarders," the avatar of Comorro states flatly over the loudspeaker, as the station banks to starboard. Through the maw of the docking bay, several swarming Medlidikke vessels are visible, closing within attack range of the Yaralu again. "Keep your weapons stowed."

Sara tries to brace herself with the sudden shifting of the station and with a little squeel she tries to grab onto the first thing within reach, most likely Grayback.

Jerry looks to Kestrel, hesitating for just a second. "Get your gun, I'm going to see if I can warn the refugee camp about what has happened..." Comorro's calm assurance draws a frown, looking out into space to see what exactly the sentient spaceship has planned.

Kestrel grins and nods at Jerry. "If'n C'morra'll let us fight for 'er, m'all for it," she practically growls, albeit gleefully. "Ain't hadda good scrap inna... aww." She frowns and looks back toward Zero Gravitas.

Silvereye looks up as Comorro speaks. "We have our orders." He states flatly. "And we adhere to them unless something goes drastically wrong. All the same all ships need to be grounded, we shouldn't lose anyone to panic." As the ship banks he staggers again in order to keep his balance.

Grayback struggles a bit to maintain his balance as Sara grabs on. "That answers that." he says, looking out towards the ships beyond the maw of the docking bay. "AGreed.. no one should launch. Otherwise they're just going to be cannon fodder."

K-CHUNG! K-CHUNG! K-CHUNG! Three blasts of something powerful, emanating from the hull of the Yaralu, precede the appearance of something wiggly and web-like - a massive net of tangly material - that encompasses the Medlidikke vessels. As soon as the material makes contact with the pirate hulls, blue energy pulsates along the strands of net. The pirate vessels are all rendered inert. Comorro angles around to close on the neutralized targets. "Time to feed," the Yaralu broadcasts."

Sara's eyes go toward the docking bay doors, "What...what the hell is that?" she asks. And with the netting and the blasts she just watches in awe, hands still holding tightly to Grayback, "Feed?" she asks as the station starts to come around.

Quicksilver rotates an ear up to the loudspeaker, exchanging a glance with his fellow Demarians as he bobs his snout, "So it would seem....I suppose the Yaralu has weathered more than a few such attacks before." He staggers, tail swinging to right his balance as the blasts emanate from the Yaralu's hull, eyes rotating about the bay to look for any injured. His gaze lands on Amanda, and he flicks his tail to tap Silvereye's arm, pointing that way, "Come on, let's see if we can help her up..."

Grayback echoes Sara's sentiment. "Feed? That's... a rather efficient method of disposing of one's enemies I suspect.." he says, before raising an eyeridge and looking towards Okaskatitch. "Or good friends passed on..." he mutters softly.

Amanda picks herself up off the floor as she tries to get a sense of what's going on about her "Forgive my paranoia, but I've unfortunately spent my life dealing with...mother of god"this time she maintains her balance

Silvereye wrinkles his nose at the disabled ship. "Not sure I want to watch the feeding process..." The Demarian is all too willing to go with Quicksilver to see if Amanda is ok.

"...Oh sweet, she's gonna -eat- 'em," Kes says, looking out the docking bay. "SERVES YA RIGHT!" she calls, shaking a fist in the direction of the now-inert pirate ships. "'Kari-cursed sons'a bitches! Now yer a snack fer a space station! Ha!"

"It would appear the immediate crisis has passed," Okaskatitch observes. "As I was saying, it is my hope that we will not remain strangers long. We have much to learn from each other, I suspect."

Jerry seems far less pleased at the thought of watching Comorro consume the Medlikkike, frowning thoughtfully. Kestrel's enthuiasm draws a slap on the woman's shoulder. "I would take this opportunity to see what exactly she means by feed on. I... don't think I want to watch."

Quicksilver extends a paw to offer Amanda something to hold onto, bracing himself with a paw against a crate as he observes, "I don't think you'll find many Demarians remaining with no measure of paranoia, miss. Need a paw?"

"If you wish, I can broadcast a holographic representation of the feeding process to the docking hub," Comorro volunteers.

Grayback nods to Okaskatitch. "Of that I have no doubt whatsoever." he says with a nod, before looking up to Comorro's announcement. "I have to admit a morbid curiousity..." he says, before looking back to the B'hiri once again.

Maybe to do his rounds, or maybe to just sit outside on guard duty, Chief Castus exits the Tharsis in his duty gear, with an apparently big wad of dip under his lower lip.

Sara blinks at the offer made by the station, "Um...that might actually be interesting..." she agrees with the Demarian beside her, whom she finally lets go of.

"The feeding process is essentially similar to the disposal of trash in a chemical bin," Okaskatitch offers helpfully. "A secondary bay opens. The vessels are pulled in. Armatures within the bay tear the vessels into more manageable chunks. Organic matter is absorbed through a chemical process. So, the skin of the bulkheads around you will eventually contain remnants of the Medlidikke pirates themselves. The synthetic materials are shunted off to the Forgotten Quarter."

Kestrel nods emphatically. "I wanna seeeeeee," she calls, all too enthusiastically. She looks back at Jerry then, a belated response to the swat. "What? She -eats- 'em. Ya can't tell me 'at ain't six kinds'a neat." She gapes at the B'hiri's explanation, then whistles low between her teeth. "Daaaaaaamn. Now I -really- wanna see."

"Ugh, now I really do not." Jerry responds, stalking off to the refugee enclave.

Thayndor Zahir swallows hard at the blasts, and the brief conflict, but remains on his feet with a minimum of apparent difficulty. After long moments spent contemplating Okaskatitch -- pallor, as he does so, creeps across his face and then recedes -- Thayndor stiffly approaches the group around the B'hiri ambassador.

"Quite an efficient means of disposing of enemies indeed." Grayback says with a nod, turning back to Okaskatitch. "Perhaps this time around, we'll have more time to get to know you and your species better."

Amanda takes Quicksilver's offered paw "I was just wondering whether the um...meal could have been taking orders from someone else with designs on interrupting the Ambassador's visit today

"I hope so," the B'hiri replies to Grayback. "Soon, you will have to meet my offspring. They live because of the efforts of you and your friends to save our world from the Il'Ri'Kamm xenocide."

"Impossible to guess about Hiverspace politics." Silvereye comments to Amanda as he heads back. "We don't know anything about it."

Lucius appears to want to avoid the large crowd around the ambassador. For one reason or another, he doesn't approach it and lifts his PDA from a pouch on his vest to check something. A large, brown wad of spittle is ejected from his mouth.

"Il'Ri'Kamm?" Sara asks, tilting her head to one side as she looks up at the ambassador B'hiri.

"I don' think 'em Medlidikke take orders from anyones, point'a fact," Kes offers helpfully to Amanda, shaking her head. "'Ey jest tear stuff up cause 'ey like tearin' it up, least 'at's what I been told. We hadda run from 'em when we first came 'ere, see? Lucky fer us Zero Gee's a damn fast ship." Her gaze again slides over toward the B'hiri and the Demarians.

Quicksilver holds Amanda's hand gently till the station stabilizes, rotating one ear towards the explanations from the B'hiri, before releasing her hand and offering his arm in proper fashion to escort, "Come, you should see the B'hiri ambassador. It isn't very often one gets the opportunity. They were almost exterminated by malevolent non-corporeal entities....we have much in common."

"In truth.. uh.. Ambassador, we've met them, but at this point in time, you wouldn't remember it." Grayback says. "We were only glad to help. Their plans for you and for the rest of us needed to be stopped."
Thayndor Zahir nods to Kestrel as he approaches the group, content to keep his mouth shut and watch the diplomacy unfold. "They won't mind," he asks Kestrel quietly out of the corner of his mouth, "if I watch, will they?"

After slipping the PDA away back into the easily accessable pouch, Lucius moves on down towards the Iuppiter, buzzing the intercom as he stops by the ramp.

"Tell me, Grayback, if this is true: The boy we saved," the B'hiri inquires, "the one *I* freed from the clutches of the Hivers - is it true that he caused the catastrophe that led to your arrival in this time and place?"

Kestrel shrugs at Thayndor. "Hope not, cause I was gonna stand 'ere an' watch, too. 'En 'gain, if'n 'ey -did- mind, I might jest hide an' listen anyhows." She stifles a giggle at that revelation. "M'sneaky 'at way." She shakes her head. "Still ain't sure how 'ese people all know each other... Ain't much fer time travel an' such, y'know."

Silvereye falls in next to Grayback but lets the two catch up. He follows the converstion, turning to Grayback for his answer.

Grayback nods. "Unfortunately, it is true Ambassador. However he and the Kamir are currently working to repair the damage that was done. I am not privy to many details beyond that."

Quicksilver clears his throat slightly, offering, "Perhaps I might offer a single paragraph summary?" He lets the question linger a moment.
Tap-tick-tick-tap. The B'hiri rotates to regard Quicksilver.

Sara just watches silently between all the people speaking.

Amanda shrugs to Silvereye as she takes quicksilver's arm "old habits die hard and I'm sure we'll rectify the not knowing anything in short or" she blinks at Qs's offer, a bemused smile as she gives him her attention
Naoi enters from the tradeport hatch, her lone eye swivelling as she studies the docking hub. No fire, no screaming citizens, no chaos. She seems... surprised. "Draconic indeed, that did not take long at all... though, I suppose once you have existed as long as this landboat has, you must learn a few things." She blinks over her shoulder at Madeline, then shrugs. "Effeciency."

Madeline follows in behind Naoi and looks around, too. "Indubitably," she agrees with a nod. "Shall we head back?"

"It should be stressed, however, that we do not expect any such 'repairs' to be completed in our lifetimes or our children's lifetimes, if it's possible at all." Silvereye appends to Grayback's account
Quicksilver lashes his tail a moment, whiskers flatenning and then fanning, "A few years after the events where you first met Grayback, our universe was invaded by an alien race, and a station loaded with us named Sanctuary, including most of the Demarians you may encounter here, were forced to flee as refugees, and our station was thrown to this universe. That is still a little ways in the future at this current time and place. We managed to return to our own universe, but found ourselves roughly 300 years into our future. A few years after that the catastrophe you mentioned occured, tearing the universe open and once again a station-load of refugees, this time Hancock, were thrown through space and time, to a spot between your first encounter with us and the invasion that Sanctuary fled from. The catastrophe opened damage in additional universes as well, so you will find here refugees from Sanctuary, from 300 years in her future, and from a thousand years beyond that, as well as a group from a place called Fastheld, whose time we cannot yet connect with our own to my knowledge." A pause, and he adds, "It's worth mentioning, as I am sure the news of the catastrophe pains you, that his name appears in our history several times as a hero. And it is my impression this last catastrophe was not intentional."

Thayndor Zahir chuckles drily at Kestrel. "Silvereye explained to me that he met this ... B'hiri, is it? ... many years ago. And hoped he might meet the same one again." He indicates the insectoid with a nod of his head. "It appears his hope may have come true."

Thayndor Zahir clears his throat quietly at the mention of Fastheld, glancing at Quicksilver.

Grayback nods to Quicksilvers account. "During that time, the Hivers returned once again. In fact, you... sacrificed yourself to bring us the new of the return while we were still on Sanctuary, preparing us for what awaited us when we returned." he says, adjusting his tie a bit. "We honored you as best we could and.. uh.. you were rather tasty." he says, raising an eyeridge at himself.

"...How?" Kes asks, rubbing a hand through her hair puzzledly. "I don' see how. 'Ey're talkin' 'bout a huge ol' loop in time an' I don'... 'Kari curse it, s'givin' me a damn headache jest thinkin' 'bout it." She looks up at Thayndor then. "I thought you all bein' here was cause'a some gateway eye thinger 'r somethin'."

"Most curious," Okaskatitch replies to Quicksilver. "Thank you for the summary." Then, at Grayback's epilogue, the B'hiri goes stock still, black-cluster eyes locked. "Some things are best not known."
Grayback nods. "If you only knew the half of it..." he says, leaving the rest to imagination.

"But we do defeat them. Again," Quicksilver puts in.

Silvereye has to agree with the B'hiri on this one, nodding slowly. "Though we are likely to have a different future now, given all that has happened."

"I suppose so.." Naoi begans, trailing off as she picks out the name of her homeland, eyebrows rising even further at the suggestion of Grayback eating Okaskatitch. Or perhaps it is actully the spider itself that gives her such a scare, her lone eye wide as she stares at the emissary.

"My thoughts exactly," Maddie says with a smirk upon seeing Naoi's expression. She hooks an arm around one of Naoi's and ties to lead her out.

"The minister is correct," Okaskatitch replies. "Much has changed due to your shift in space and time."

Grayback nods. "We indeed face an unknown future. I suspect our presence here will alter the flow of history as we know it." Grayback says.

Thayndor Zahir watches the conversation's back-and-forth the same way an orangutan would watch a tennis match: Intently, but obviously with little to no comprehension.

Amanda purses her lips thoughtfully"I wish I understood the implications of it all better. If the events that caused us to be do not occur, dowe simply fade from existence mind and body

"Psh. Dunno 'bout you, but I don' intend ta fade from 'zistence," Kes grumbles, then snorts. "Not 'at easy." She shakes her head. "Don' even think yer smartest scientists know how havin' all'a us 'ere's gonna screw up hist'ry. Hells, might be not even th'Saints 'emselves know."

Naoi is dragged back a step or two, then yanks her arm free. "They're talking about Fastheld!" She starts to push forward, jostling rudely if a gentle bump is not enough.

Newt steps out of the Fox, looks around... and stops taking a moment to stare at the B'hiri. "Wow! Cool..."

"Are they?" Maddie asks, letting go of Naoi with a shrug. "Well, stay if you want, but I'm going back."

"I admit to a certain morbid curiosity as to whether I shall eventually meet myself in passing. I've always wondered what it was like being twins," Quicksilver offers, lifting an eye ridge as his tail lashes lightly behind him.

"Though, there is one aspect of the old future I would like to discuss." Silvereye replies to the B'hiri. "Though I don't know how successful it will be."

The B'hiri regards Newt and then approaches the smaller figure. Tap-tick-tick-tick-tap-tap. Glittering black compound eyes reflect lots and lots of little Newts. "I am listening, Minister." The rounded head tilts slightly, mandibles clicking together. "Interesting child."
Grayback looks curiously to Silvereye, and waits to see what he intends to discuss.

"When Sanctuary leaves most of my people will be eradicated by Kretonians." Silvereye begins for Okaskatitch. "Some will be saved, we believe, by B'hiri, who take them to a world in Hiverspace called Pansheera. That is the only name we know the world by, and we are desperately seeking one."

Naoi is soon completly immersed in the crowd, ending near Thayndor and Kestrel. Reponsibility and duty is lost in hope, it would appear, turning to the familiar face of the Zahir. "Are they talking about Fastheld?"

Madeline shrugs and heads back.

Newt straightens as the B'hiri approaches. His eyes darting somewhat from compound eye to compond eye he manages to stammer out a "Hi."

Quicksilver glances to Grayback, questioning in quiet tone so as not to disrupt the main conversation, "Was Jest with you in the Harrower events?" Whiskers flatten, then fan again as his gaze turns to Silvereye, ears rotating in opposite directions to survey the crowd before refocusing upon Silvereye.

"Hi," the B'hiri click-clacks at Newt. Then, it rotates on spindly legs to face Silvereye. "I am unfamiliar with the name. However, I am curious: Why do these Kretonians want to eradicate your people?"

"Mm," Thayndor says, shaking his head to Naoi. "They were, briefly. Now it's ..." he waves his hands, fingers splayed, in an indescribably chaotic, slow-moving circle. "Hard to follow."

Kestrel does perk up at the mention of Pansheera. She laughs, in fact. "Pansheera! 'Kari's sword. Pansheera was with th'-enemy- in my time. Ha. Fought with th'Kari-cursed Nall, 'ey did." Sne shakes her head. "Nexus C'ncordance, psh. Scalebacked sons'a..." She trails off into a grumble.

Grayback looks back to Quicksilver, and nods. "She was.. on the Courser." he says, before looking to Okaskatitch. "The reason is that Kip was kidnapped from Val Shohob. During our attempt to rescue him, my ship's Otherspace drive malfunctioned and took us to the space of the warlike Kretonians. They attempted to learn the secret of the drive from us, but we escaped. As we were to find out later, the malfunction resulted in a destabiliation of both Kreton's sun, and Val Shohob's sun. Both... exploded." he says, a few painful memories surfacing. "The Kretonians eventually stole the plans to an Otherspace drive, and with it, invaded the known worlds. Sanctuary was built to escape it, and it came here, 2 years from now."

Naoi grinds her teeth together at Thayndor's answer, but there is little else she can do, turning and watching the interactions focused around the B'hiri.

Quicksilver bobs his snout to Grayback's answer. "She's here. The Artemis. Thinner. I worry." Shifting attention to the discussion of the others, he listens with interest as Grayback speaks of the reason for the conflict, before putting in, "A rebellion led by the Nall eventually wiped the Kretonians out, during Sanctuary's absence."

Silvereye nods slowly to the other Demarians. "They explain it well." He turns back to Okaskatitch. "I didn't expect that you would, it's a Demarian name. But I felt obligated to ask."

"The Harrower is capable of transdimensional travel," Okaskatitch states, tap-tick-tap-tapping his way toward the Demarians. "Perhaps we could eliminate the need for Sanctuary by preventing that kidnapping. We could stop your vessel from destroying those stars. Perhaps by focusing our efforts on preventing that catalyzing event, we might restore your universe to some semblance of order."

Grayback raises an eyeridge. "I'd forgotten about that aspect of the ship.." he says, his voice full of awe. "We could erase the entire war.. the years of devastation..." he says, lost in thought for a few moments.

"They're talking now about ... going back in time?" Thayndor asks. He blinks. "I thought mucking about in time and space was the reason we entered this mess in the first place," he adds, a bit louder, with the befuddled mistrust of a helpless Luddite.

"...Eh," Kes says, pretty obviously losing interest at a rapid rate. She looks up at Thayndor. "Dunno 'bout you, but m'gettin' sorta bored 'ere. An' yeah, it were. 'Kari-cursed Kamirs messin' with time an' space got us 'ere, an' ain't more muckin' gonna fix 'er, ya ask me." The Later shoves her hand in her pockets and slouches a bit, glancing back toward Zero Gravitas, as if trying to decide whether or not to go that way.

"Material absorption complete," Comorro announces over the loudspeaker.

Amanda hms "Not sure it would be wise to try to intentionally alter history. We likely have more than enough unintended consequences as it is and likely to compound them each time we try and alter something

"Long is the road of good intentions, and treacherous is it's shadowed forks." Naoi says, but it is more for Thayndor's benefit then some general appeal to the 'community'. "I had thought..." Her shoulders droop, "Of course they would not waste breath about Fastheld. What is a kingdom to such a place and idealism?"

Tamila makes her way out of the Zero Gravitas with a rucksack thrown over one shoulder. She spots the large group, but being anti-social as she is, she heads towards the tradeport hatch instead of joining. But she does raise a brow at Comorro's announcement.

"The number of possible outcomes is more than a little mind-boggling," Quicksilver muses, whiskers flattening and tail thrashing a little more as he considers the possibility. Ears flatten, then perk, as he muses, "Would it cause further trouble for the ones attempting to repair the rifts, if we altered past events?"

Silvereye frowns lightly as he considers Okaskatitch's plan. His tail sways lightly behind him. He looks over his shoulder at Naoi's words, and nods slowly. "A possibility, but we can't know for sure. We can't chart out all that would happen, nor do we know if we can even reach that universe anymore."

"I am willing to explore the possibilities," the B'hiri replies. Tap-tick-tick-tap-tap-tick. It rotates and approaches the ramp of the emissary vessel. "Think on it." He climbs the ramp and disappears into the gray-hulled vessel. The ramp slides up and the hatch thuds shut. The vessel remains in its berth, however.

Newt grins, making his way over to the ship "That was nifty."

Kestrel glances back at Naoi. "Dunno. I think it'd be more 'mportant if'n we knew where it was at all," she points out with a shrug. "Reckon you all wanna git home same as th'rest'a us." The Later rolls her eyes and puts a hand to her forehead. "Oh, fer th'love'a Kanter, LEAVE TH'KARI-CURSED PAST ALONE wouldja?" she calls toward the other group then, waving a hand vaguely and stomping off toward Zero Gravitas. "Like we ain't already in 'nough'a a mess as it is!"

"We have no way of knowing the circumstances of the Kamir's bringing us here." Grayback says. "However, I feel the possibility can't be ignored. One black mark on history erased may lead to an era of peace and prosperity we could not imagine. On the other hand, I do concede that it is an.. incredible task to comprehend it."

"And then there's the effect of the Sanctuarians on the three invasions that followed, when we returned to our universe," Quicksilver puts in after Grayback, more thinking aloud than anything else. "We have to add that into our consideration. The expertise and connections we brought forward had an effect on events in that century out of proportion to our numbers."

Tamila and her rucksack keep going towards the tradeport hatch. She ducks through the door as it opens, not paying attention to the crowds or the ambassidor.

Silvereye shrugs at quicksilver. "We don't even know if linearity even exists anymore, or whether universes have just been atomized. It's too risky."

Zoological center plans expansion

2009-02-15T14:14:00.001-05:00

KJERNKOR, HEKAYT PRIME - The zoological facility on the outskirts of Triumvirate Park in Kjernkor will add a new 200-acre wildlife expansion, with an eye toward opening this summer.

According to zoo officials, the expansion will showcase some of the more dangerous wild animals known to roam Hekayt Prime, including:

* Varmetann: A monstrous 10-legged fire-breathing reptile with a long sinuous neck and pebbled red and black skin.

* Surpust: A dark-furred mammal that exhales corrosive acid to slow its prey.

* Blodfot: A sharp-clawed mammal that's recognized as the fastest-moving land creature on the surface of Hekayt Prime.

Officials say that adequate security precautions are being taken to ensure that the animals will not interact directly with zoo patrons.

Epidemic strikes Muscipulan homeworld

2009-02-14T15:31:00.000-05:00

MUSCIPULA - In recent days an outbreak of an unknown disease has struck the Muscipulan homeworld, resulting in hundreds of sickened citizens reporting to hospitals in the capital city. Doctors are currently baffled by the rapid onset, and thus far have reported that patients are not responding to standard treatments. Government officials have launched an investigation into potential sources of the disease, and travel to or from Muscipula is presently restricted.

Those afflicted with the disease are dubbing it the 'Wilting Blight', due to sufferers quickly losing strength and much of their ability to move. Other symptoms include the appearance of white splotches on their bodies, which in the advanced stages results in damage to the tissue. There are indications that the disease also interferes with their natural ability to photosynthesize food, resulting in many having to be tube fed. No reports of fatalities have yet been reported, and doctors do not know as of yet if any damage can be reversed. For now, they watch and wait while scientists rush to analyze the disease, hopeful that a cure can be discovered.

Hall of Fame Entry: Jest'liana

2009-02-13T16:26:00.001-05:00

Jest'liana Warren is another character that's been around since pretty much the beginning of OtherSpace. She was among the people taken hostage by the Hivers for their war against the B'hiri. She helped save the life of Kip Caspar, who would grow up, years later, to nearly rip reality itself apart. Now she's among the refugees dwelling on Comorro Station after fleeing the catastrophe in normalspace.

How's that for having an impact on the game world?

The player has, from my experiences in the past, always been about the story - no matter the consequences for her character. And she's not just about the story that plays out in front of other players. One of my favorite memories of Jest dates back to 1998 aboard the Harrower. I didn't mean to spy, honest! I had a puppet object in an archive chamber so I could run emits for players. She happened to be in there, on her own, and actually performed a sort of ballet in pose form. It wasn't about showing off or getting attention, it was about immersing herself in the character.

It's an honor and a privilege to count her among OtherSpace's top veteran players.

Comorro Room Discount

2009-02-08T18:18:00.000-05:00

Effective immediately, a 1-room home or shop on Comorro Station costs 100 RP Points (rather than 250). This discount will continue after we open more RP grid locations so that people have an incentive to keep Comorro as a central focus for the game.

Nemoni base attacked

2009-02-08T16:27:00.000-05:00

NEMONUS - Nemoni government officials have reported that the brewing conflict between the Nemoni Federation and the Elyssian Alliance escalated today when an Elyssian task force launched a sneak attack on a Nemoni Star Force base on Hacari IV. Casualties have been reported to be in the hundreds making this the bloodiest confrontation yet between the two micro races. Equipment losses have been estimated to be extensive, with several cruisers and battleships docked at the base destroyed or severely damaged.

"As of this moment, the Nemoni Federation and the Elyssian Alliance are in a state of war." Nemoni President Malcone Meston was quoted as saying at a hastily called press conference. "This cowardly attack on our sovereign territory will not go unanswered." The President answered questions regarding the spark that ignited the current conflict, and cited recent attempts by the Elyssians to annex Nemoni territory. "Our people have established legal claims to our territory, and we will not give it up easily. We will not be bullied, we will not be intimidated, and we will not be driven from our homes."

The Nemoni Star Force is reported to be on full alert and Nemoni patrols have tripled since the attack. If this will remain an isolated incident or indicates the start of more aggressive action by the Elyssians remains to be seen.

B'hiri ambassador plans visit

2009-02-08T16:20:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Ambassador Okaskatich, representative of the B'hiri in the wake of the recently ended war against the Il'Ri'Kamm Hive Mind, is planning to arrive on Comorro Station in one week.

It will be the first time a B'hiri has set foot aboard Comorro since before the onset of the war and the Yaralu's refusal to intervene for either side.

The ambassador is expected to remain for several weeks and has expressed particular interest in meeting with refugees that arrived aboard Hancock Station.

Glitch causes diplomatic gaffe

2009-02-08T16:15:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - A human refugee from Hancock Station inadvertently declared war on the Pyracani today while seeking directions to the nearest bathroom.

Tylden Merson asked a Pyracani diplomat: "Excuse me, but could you direct me to the restroom? It's urgent." Merson had tried a Lotorian pot-luck dish known as "Twisty Innards," which wasn't agreeing with his digestive system.

However, a glitch in Comorro's translation system output the words: "Your stench offends. I will end your kind."

Merson was treated for cuts and bruises after Hekayti security personnel pulled the Pyracani off the human. Comorro recalibrated the translation matrix, with apologies.

RP Point Rewards!

2009-02-07T10:28:00.001-05:00

The RPReward Point object should now be entirely functional. You will receive 30 RPP every ten minutes while scening with another IC person, 1 RPP every ten minutes while on your own. As always, if it doesn't seem to be working for some reason, drop a +str.

Riot or sport?

2009-02-07T10:24:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Comorro's landing hub ended up in disarray after a so called sport took place. The sport itself is alleged to involve keeping a silver ball and a player keeping it in their possession. However, players of this "marketball" seem more interested in trying to maim each other than to get the ball. This resulted in four of the 10 players receiving injuries, despite wearing protective clothing. This so-called sport appears to have no rules and no real objective, outside of injuring other players.

Or in one case, accidentally disrupting a group of Lotorian onlookers, as one drunken Hekayti was rumored to have done.

Tamila Romeno, one of the participants who was injured, said, "This isn't a sport for the weak of heart. In fact, it's usually a good thing if the weak of heart stay well away. But after the rules are reviewed and designed so that it's closer to the traditional sport of shockball as opposed to the modern descendent, marketball, it may actually catch on. In the future I would like to form a league, however due to lack of equipment, it makes it impossible to even consider training more than two or three teams."

Romeno, one of the refugees from the year 4009, added that shockball was a lot safer to bystanders than marketball and the rules are much easier to understand.

Three Words!

2009-02-06T12:30:00.001-05:00

We're starting a new monthly writing competition at Jointhesaga.com. We give you three words. You choose your own genre! The winner gets an Amazon.com gift certificate.

More info: http://www.jointhesaga.com/ovforums/index.php?topic=617.0

Quarantine lifted

2009-02-01T21:00:00.000-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Apparently, a cure has been found for the mysterious illness that was spreading through Comorro Station in recent days. The Yaralu has ordered an end to the quarantine so the cure can be distributed.

The Minerva Accords

2009-01-31T19:13:00.002-05:00

Command Center

The central operations facility of this Wasp-class destroyer is a blunted trapezoid that angles from the 15-foot-wide forward bulkhead and graduates to 30-feet-wide at the aft end of the command hull.

A holographic viewscreen provides amplified visuals of the surrounding cosmos, while square portholes can be found to starboard and port on the bulkheads until reaching the elevated console station "U" that cradles the command chair and the navigation console.

A pair of steps can be seen port, starboard and aft, leading from the command well to the rail-encircled "U" that houses the science, communications, atmospheric monitoring and cargo management consoles.

The "U"-deck and the top of the encircling rail are covered with navy blue impact cushioning. The lower command well, forward to the prow, has uncarpeted gray metal plates - some marked as AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY - BREACH CONTAINMENT RISK.

Directly aft from the command chair, at the bottom of the "U," is the hatch that leads to the rest of the vessel.

Porter strides onto the bridge. "Status report?"

DS-3633 pauses for a few seconds, then asks with its head tilted, "This unit-" it stops and turns at the new voice. "Greetings, Colonel Porter."

Brushtail's ears prick towards the new voice as the Demarian rotates in the pilot's chair, conversation forgotten as he stands, saluting. "Sir. We're ready to go. Course to Castor's laid in, and anything I found to tie down during pre-flight, I've done, sir."

Porter nods to DS-3633, then looks toward Brushtail as he steps down into the command well and approaches the central chair. "Take us out, Private." He looks up at the ceiling. "Osiris, we'll be needing the OtherSpace Drive shortly."

~Acknowledged,~ responds the sparkling blue manifestation that appears just outside the corner of your eye.

Brushtail's gaze flicks over to the presence, or where he saw it. He nods to Porter and returns to his chair, adjusting it for his height and limb length. "Ready to taxi on your mark, sir. Pending clearance from Concordance, we should be able to launch."

Porter nods to Brushtail. "Get her rolling."

DS-3633 turns its head to scan the Ri'Kammi with its optical sensors on all possible spectrums. It turns back to Porter and says, "This unit inquires about our mission on Castor."

Porter smiles crookedly, nodding to DS-3633. "We're going to save the galaxy again, after a fashion. The Nall have agreed to meet privately with the Martians, without a lot of media spotlights, aboard the Minerva."

Brushtail frowns. "Sir, what happens if it doesn't go off well? Unless the Nall bring a fighter to rendezvous in, the Minerva's not much of a threat. I'm a good pilot, but if they decide to be belligerent, I'll do nothing but run, unless ordered otherwise, sir." At that, he returns his attention to the console. "Prepared for undocking, sir."

DS-3633 pauses to process the information and reply, then nods. "Understood. Will you be mediating this meeting? This unit also sees possibility of violence. Are Vanguard crew members prepared for hostilities?"

Porter shakes his head. "Don't worry about the Minerva. The Nall don't have a quarrel with *us*. We helped fight the Lem'ing at Nalhom. But if the Martians play their usual coy games...they might have their own problems to concern themselves with." He looks toward DS-3633. "There won't be any hostilities. The Vox and the First Consul negotiated the terms. This meeting, apparently, is just a formality to make it official."

Brushtail nods. "Very good, sir. We're going to host, then? Will the crew be present, or should we make ourselves scarce?" The Demarian hesitates before speaking again. "Ready to launch, sir. My screens show all systems are in the green."

DS-3633 turns its head towards the viewscreen to watch as the ship departs.

Porter smiles. "We'll hold it in the Big Picture lounge. We're trying to make this as low pressure as possible. So, you're invited to observe." He gestures toward the viewscreen. "Get us underway."

The bay doors begin to slide open as the VES Minerva prepares for departure ...

You feel a sudden lift as the VES Minerva glides forth from the docking bay.

"Systems checking now, sir. We'll be launched in a few seconds." Brushtail pauses and coasts the vessel out. "We're out. Maneuvering on a vector to Castor, sir."

[Loudspeaker] All crew, brace for acceleration.

Porter leans back in the command chair, nodding.

You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up.

Brml! This is Chief Stock Holder Borono of the G'ahnlese Navy. How are things swimming along?

The ship turns slowly, hanging in space for a moment before her engines flare and she leaps forward, accelerating quickly.

IDE Galub lurches out of Concordance, engines firing as it starts to move.

Porter speaks into his commlink, "Evening, Borono. Lt. Col. Porter aboard the Minerva." He glances toward DS-3633. "Want to take comms, Diss?"

Silver Salmon wanders lazily toward Concordance, seeming in no hurry at all as its massive bulk glides along.

Brml! How profitable to see you here! How are things swimming along with your vessel, brml?

DS-3633 jerks with the ship, but retains its balance. It tilts its head, then nods, "I will, this unit is not completely trained in the operations of the console however."

Porter grins at DS-3633. "Time to learn, then." He speaks into his commlink, "Much better, now that we can actually stretch our legs outside of Concordance Station again. You?"

Brml, we were just able to get back in and refuel. May I ask where you are heading for?

Porter smiles at the question.

DS-3633 activates the communications array.

Porter speaks into his commlink, "I could tell you, Borono, but I'm afraid that is currently classified. Maybe we can talk when we get back. Porter out."

Brml! What was that?

Porter nods to Brushtail. "Hit it."

The ship slows, seeming to hang in space for an instant before lurching forward and disappearing in a flash.

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

DS-3633 stands at the console, scanning the controls. "This unit believes it has a basic understanding of these controls."

Brml! Unprofitable communication signals!

Your mind wanders for a moment as the ship travels through OtherSpace.

Porter smirks, resting his hands on the armrests.

Brushtail smiles softly. "Sir, we've jumped. En route to Castor. ETA three and a half minutes, plus a small correctional jump."

Porter nods. "Excellent."

DS-3633 turns its head towards the command chair, "Colonal Porter, this unit has an inquiry of an unrelated matter."

Porter glances toward DS-3633. "Go ahead."

The ship reverberates slightly as it speeds through OtherSpace.

[Loudspeaker] All crew, this is Private Brushtail. We'll be dropping from OtherSpace in about a minute for a correctional jump.

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

Hunter sticks his head into the command center and glances around briefly. He quietly steps into the center, but hangs back near the door.

DS-3633 nods its head, then states without inflection. "This unit has observed and conversed with the prisoner Mr. Carlon on several occasions. This unit is requesting, on his behalf, that he be provided with reading material deemed appropriate for one of prisoner status."

Brushtail pulls back on a lever, causing the ship to revert to realspace.

You feel the ship begin to slow.

Porter scratches his chin, then nods. "Approved." He looks toward Hunter. "Welcome to the party, Sergeant."

The ship appears in a flash, accelerating slowly as it turns towards Castor.

Hunter nods slightly, "Evening, Colonel."

Sal'thrla decloaks and materializes in orbit around Castor.

Brushtail speaks up. "Sir. We'll be jumping in roughly fifteen seconds. Only a five-second jump, so you may want to brace yourself."

Porter nods. "Thank you, Private. Proceed."

[Loudspeaker] Minerva crew, this is the bridge. Brace for a short jump

DS-3633 places a hand on the console for support.

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

The ship reappears from OtherSpace and turns towards Castor, accelerating.

You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up.

Brushtail relaxes a bit, speaking up again. "En route to Castor, sir. The Sal'thrla is on sensors and we're closing."

Hunter hmms slightly, "What are the Nall doing near Castor?"

Porter nods, then looks toward Hunter. "They're here to board the Minerva for peace talks with the Martians."

You feel the ship begin to slow.

Hunter nods slightly, "At least they're willing to give it another go."

You feel a slight force as the ship glides to a halt ...

Porter smiles. "Indeed. Apparently, they've reached an accord privately. This is just to make it official."

DS-3633 tilts its head, "This unit inquires, does Colonal Porter believe a lasting peace is a feasible possibility between the Martians and Nall?

Porter scratches his chin. "A lasting peace? Hell, depends on what you mean by lasting. For a Phyrrian, I imagine lasting means something a lot different than it does for a Martian. I tell you what, though. Any accord reached here will at least prolong the inevitable loss of life that would come from any kind of conflict between them."

Hunter runs a hand through his hair, "I've fought against the Nall and beside them. I liked it better with them as allies. Looks like the Martians finally came to their senses."

Porter checks his display. "Private, take us in to linking range with the Sal'thrla."

Sal'thrla slowly drifts in orbit around the verdant Castori homeworld.

DS-3633 pauses for five seconds, then nods. "This unit understands." It turns to watch the viewscreen again.

<> Sal'thrla this is MLGB Elysium. We are en route and will be arriving momentarily.

Brushtail nods. "Moving towards her now, sir."

You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up.

..... Unprofitable comm signals! Always broken!

The ship turns towards the Sal'thrla, engines flaring as she coasts towards the larger Nall vessel.

DS-3633 tilts its head at the last incoming communication.

Hurkvril says, "Acknowledged. We will link with the Minerva. We will ssssee you aboard her."

MLGB Elysium MLGB Elysium slows to flank speed on an approach vector to the Sal'thrla.

<> Understood.

You feel the ship begin to slow.

You feel a slight force as the ship glides to a halt ...

DS-3633 tilts its head, "Colonal Porter, should this unit attempt to set the incoming communications to emit from the loudspeaker?"

The ship slows to a stop, coasting to within boarding link range of the Nall destroyer Sal'thrla. Maneuvering thrusters fire briefly as the Minerva aligns herself.

Porter nods to Diss. "Please do."

Brml. .... .. ... ... ...... .... .. ... this .... chatter? Brml.

A soft crackle is heard as the bridge speakers are activated.

Porter nods to Staunton. "Evening, Major. All set to moderate the festivities?"

Staunton enters and stands near the command chair. "As ready as I will ever be, Sir." she says unconvincingly.

DS-3633 presses a control, then nods. "Task complete."

Porter smiles and nods. "Excellent. All right. Everyone stand by for the Sal'thrla's linking."

Brushtail smiles, leaning back from the controls a bit and rotating in the chair to see Staunton. He nods, but does not stand nor salute, for once. "Sirs, we're within boarding link range of the Sal'thrla."

Porter nods.

Brushtail reaches over and taps several buttons. "Shields dropped. Ready at any time to receive the boarding party."

DS-3633 turns to Commander Staunton and attempts a greeting nod, but does not say anything.

A linking umbilical extends from the Sal'thrla to the Minerva, attaching to the hull of the VES starship with a CLUNK.

Outside, The MLGB Elysium drifts to a half a just a bit too far from the other ships to initiate docking, then the engines kick on once more, bringing her in close.

The major takes in the whole of the command center, then stands, hands clasped behind her back near the command chair. "If you gentlemen have any last minute questions, now is the time to ask them."

Brushtail rotates in the chair, shaking his head. "None here, sir." He stands then, adjusting his uniform briefly.

Staunton looks expectantly at the Phyrrian. "And you?"

Porter tugs on the sleeves of his jacket, then looks toward Staunton. "Major, let's assemble in the shuttle bay and greet our guests."

DS-3633 steps away from the comm console, "This unit does not have any inquiries at this time."

Volidana enters the command center and looks about.

Staunton nods curtly. "Very well. Aye, Sir."

Porter nods, then walks up the steps to the back of the command center, heading for the corridor.

Staunton stands to the side and waits for Porter to leave first.

Cargo Hold

Cargo shuttling robots handle a lot of the heavy lifting in this 100-foot-square, 40-foot-high hold, which is capable of carrying several months worth of food and supplies for the ship's crew with plenty of space left over for commercial and scientific payloads.

A quartermaster oversees the arrivals and departures of cargos, checking manifests to make sure that what's on the list matches what's in the crate.

A wide archway, accessible by the cargo bots, leads to the ship's shuttle bay.

Porter makes his way toward the shuttle bay, walking alongside Staunton. "Let's hope this works, Major." He smiles faintly, continuing toward the shuttle bay.

Brushtail steps into the cargo bay, ears pricked straight up as he walks, shoulders back, towards the shuttle bay.

Staunton takes a deep breath. "Aye, Sir."

Shuttle Bay

This large chamber serves as a shuttle hangar and a cargo staging area. Warning stripes have been painted along the floor, marking out shuttle landing pads, cargo pallets and variable gravity areas. Two massive doors guard the threshold leading out of the ship. There is also a personnel airlock to the port side of the hangar doors.

Porter strides into the shuttlebay and moves to stand about ten feet from the docked Elysium. The Minerva's external access hatch can be heard cycling air, hissing sibilantly to starboard.

Hunter steps in and stands where he can see everything, but also where he is out of the way.

DS-3633 moves next to Hunter, also out of the way and able to observe.

Staunton stands to Porter's right, feet planted, shoulders squared.

Brushtail enters, moving towards the Martian vessel, his gaze locked on the ship, fascinated. As if remembering where he is, he turns back towards DS and walks towards the Phyrrian. Nearing the being, he stops and returns his gaze to the Elysium.

Volidana takes up a place near Hunter and DS

Porter is standing with the Minerva crew, about 10 feet from the Elysium. The Minerva's external access hatch can be heard hissing sibilantly as air is cycled through it.

Novius exits the MLGB Elysium, marching casually, if you can do such a thing, but with military precision. She follows after Bullock, who in turn follows after Callahan and his guards.

Callahan leaves the airlock of the Elysium with dignified air, his brown eyes clear and soft as he marches a formal march towards the proceedings. He is flanked by a guard on each side, and following him are two recruits in formation.

Porter steps away from the other Minerva crew to extend a hand to Callahan. "Second Consul, welcome aboard."

Bullock marches behind Callahan and his guards, flanked by Novius. His eyes scan the area quickly while his head remains fixed in position on his rigid frame.

DS-3633 stands with Hunter, Brushtail and Volidana in the background. It turns its head from left to right and back again slowly. It pauses for a few seconds on each Martian, then continues to turn back and forth.

Brushtail's gaze flicks towards the Martians, pausing on each one as he takes in their features. His namesake curls behind him, an emotionless expression on his features.

Callahan takes Porter's hand, shaking it with a powerful grip as he smiles a thin smile. "Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," he says formally. "It's good to have this opportunity."

Porter nods. "Glad we could host it." He gestures toward Staunton. "This is my second in command, Major Dierdre Staunton. She'll be moderating tonight's discussions."

From Porter's right, Staunton steps forward and extends a hand to the second Consul. "An honor, Sir," she says simply.

Volidana flecks embarrassed red as her padd beeps and quickly returns her gaze to the proceedings.

Novius remains at attention, following every move of Bullock, with well-practiced precision. Her gaze remains firmly to her front. Her stance is impeccable. Truly squared away. It's too bad that image of perfection is ruined as the sweat drips down from her temples.

Callahan releases Porter's hand, and immediately points his bony paw in Staunton's direction. "Major," he says with a nod, shaking her hand tightly. Almost too tightly. His eyes, though, are smooth and calm. "The honor is mine. Now...where are our friends?" he says lightly.

The hiss of the external access hatch becomes more pronounced. Then comes the swiveling of a lock-wheel before a THUNK! The hatch begins to swing open. Through it come two talons of Nall warriors - a total of six in their black lacquered armor and ceremonial swords as they form parallel lines on either side of the access hatch.

Brushtail's ears flick back, whiskers twitching at the sight of the Nall warriors. Ears returning to their upright position, he remains absolutely silent, his tail falling still.

Staunton squares her shoulders and nods toward the oncoming horde of Nall warriors. "Right on time," she says under her breath.

Porter nods, turning to observe the newcomers.

Bullock stands frozen at attention behind Callahan and his guards. Occasionally his eyes will swivel to look about the room. Before his gaze can ever wander for very long he forces it back into line, thus staring straight ahead at nothing.

Callahan straightens his posture, his hands falling to his side in a respectful stance as he observes the Nall.

Hurkvril slinks into the shuttle bay, sword clanking against his leg armor, tail lashing back and forth as he steps proudly between the ranks of warriors on either side of his approach into the Minerva.

DS-3633 turns to observe the Nalls the same as he did the Martians, pausing on each for a few seconds. The rest of its body remains perfectly still, though those close enough could hear a faint *whirr* sound.

Porter bows slightly to the incoming Nall official. "Welcome aboard the Minerva." He straightens. "I am Lt. Col. David Ransom Porter." He gestures to Callahan. "Second Consul Callahan, here on behalf of Mars." He then points to Staunton. "My second in command, Major Staunton."

Staunton bends slightly with a respectful incline of her head. "L'soth," she says smoothly.

Hurkvril nictitates his eye membranes, sampling the air in the shuttlebay with a forked tongue. He stops a few feet from the softskin called Porter, bobbing his snout at each introduction. Finally, when Porter has finished, the Nall raises his tattooed right palm and states: "I am L'Sssssoth Hurk of Hatch Vril, commander of Her Glory'ssss Clawed Fisssst Fleet. I come on behalf of the Voksssss to conclude thessssse negosssssiasssssionssss."

Callahan nods slightly, every move seemingly practiced and refined. He then turns to watch Porter's interaction with the Nall, his eyes shrewd and slightly squinted.

Porter nods, then looks toward Staunton. "Major, you want to lead the way to the tavern?" He smiles toward Callahan, then Hurkvril. "Refreshments will be available, if you like."

Hurkvril gnashes his fangs, his tail swooshing back and forth. "It issss unlikely your ssstaff can prepare a beverage ssssuitable for my tassstessss, but I welcome the challenge."

Callahan smiles back to Porter and then to the Nall, nodding respectfully after the L'soth speaks.

Staunton turns and gestures toward the cargo hold. "This way, Gentlemen," she says, then turns toward the exit, boot heels clicking on the deck plating.

Hurkvril turns to two of the warriors flanking the access hatch. He says, "SrreimM sthacuff ssssiiiss cusshhH"

Bullock stands as still as possible, but his gaze definitely swings to take in the sight of Hurkvril. His brows descend, crunching up together over the bridge of his nose while his eyes narrow. As this process occurs on his face, the recruit's posture stiffens further, his chest puffing out a hair, his chin pushing forward a notch.

Two of the warriors by the hatch break their formation and follow Hurkvril as he proceeds after the major.

Callahan nods back towards the recruits as if to signal them to stay put, and continues on with his two guards wordlessly.

Novius pivots crisply and begins to move along with Callahan, her shoulders squared and head held erect.

Cargo Hold

Cargo shuttling robots handle a lot of the heavy lifting in this 100-foot-square, 40-foot-high hold, which is capable of carrying several months worth of food and supplies for the ship's crew with plenty of space left over for commercial and scientific payloads.

A quartermaster oversees the arrivals and departures of cargos, checking manifests to make sure that what's on the list matches what's in the crate.

A wide archway, accessible by the cargo bots, leads to the ship's shuttle bay.

Carlon is seated on the cot inside his crate, looking torward the floor quietly. He takes a glance to the Nalls who pass by, but is otherwise quiet.

Staunton continues toward the corridor, eyes forward.

Hurkvril slinks through the cargo hold, ceremonial sword clanking against his leg armor. He is accompanied by two other Nall warriors. One of them huffs as it spots the softskin in his cage.

Porter walks after the Nall.

Corridor

Navy blue impact cushioning covers the deckplates in this 20-foot-wide, 15-foot-high corridor that stretches about 60 feet from the command hull to the cargo and engineering facilities.

Overhead light strips alternate amber and white - the amber capable of serving as emergency auxiliary lights in case of general power failures.

Hatches that can be sealed in case of crises such as hull breaches or biohazard releases lead to crew quarters, the medical/science center, the cargo hold and shuttle bay, a crew briefing room, and the vessel's command center.

Staunton leads the group on through the corridor toward the crew facilities.

Callahan follows afterwards, head bowed slightly, but remaining taut in limb.

Porter walks across the corridor, approaching the crew facilities.

Crew Facilities

The bunks stacked in two rows, two-high, can sleep as many as 50 crew members. They appear to be designed primarily with humanoids in mind, but several appear to be reinforced and extended for larger, bulkier races.

The crew bunk area also includes four unisex comfort cubicles, four showers, an exercise square featuring an oval running track, training gear and weightlifting equipment, and a holovid pit with a viewer and a few couches and chairs.

The ship's commander and executive officer have their own cubicles that contain beds, computer terminals, and dressers for the display of personal effects.

Hurkvril bobs his snout as he walks with his warriors. One of the warriors sniffs indignantly at the cushioned bunks. "Ssssoft thingssss require comfort," the L'Soth explains as he walks.

Callahan follows the procession, his head not swaying to the sights as he continues to march. He merely blinks neutrally at the L'soth's comment, continuing on.

Mess Hall

The starship's mess hall is a large chamber broken into two distinct sections. The largest section consists of the galley, where cooks assigned to the vessel prepare meals for the masses - and where crew that are in dutch with their senior officers often spend time cleaning dishes, cutting vegetables or serving their crewmates, and the rows of tables and benches arranged in neat lines.

The secondary section is an "off-duty" pub called The Big Picture - a name earned by the expansive window that takes up most of the bulkhead section along the starboard hull. The tavern, open only during ship's evening hours, features several tables and booths arranged around a horseshoe-shaped serving counter that carries (in a securely locked group of cabinets) an extensive variety of liquor from throughout the known worlds.

Porter walks into the mess hall area, hands clasped behind his back.

Hurkvril tilts his snout, studying the surroundings with flickering black eyes. The two Nall warriors escorting him sample the air with forked tongues, keeping within easy reach of the L'Soth as he moves.

Grishkov is at table with a coffee, off to a side of the pub, seemingly looking distant.

Staunton makes her way through the mess hall and up a set of stairs to The Big Picture where tables have been set near the facility's large picture window. She takes a chair near the center of the table and waits for the guests to find their places.

Porter follows the Major, taking a seat next to her and watching the others assemble.

Novius continues her precision turgid motions a testament to her formal training. She takes up a place behind Callahan and his guards. And now she allows herself the chance to glance about, but only with her eyes. They shift in their sockets as she takes in her surroundings.

Callahan's two guards have fallen behind the shorter Consul, wordless red ghosts of trained formality. The Consul however, looks down to the chairs. "How shall we sit?" he inquires lightly.

Xavin enters into mess hall of the ship, his footsteps light upon the steel of the Minerva's flooring as he crosses up toward the raised Big Picture.

Hurkvril sits directly to the left of Major Staunton, swinging his snout toward her and huffing as he inhales the air around her. His guardians take up positions directly behind him. The L'Soth inquires of the Major: "Why do you not command your own vessssel, female?"

DS-3633 follows the rest up the stairs, then stands against the wall near the entrance, not taking a seat. It has a good view point of the room from its current location. Its optical circuits shimmer for a moment, like a blink, and then it begins to turn its head back and forth as it did in the shuttle bay.

Porter smiles at Callahan. "Across from the L'Soth, I suppose?" His eyebrows go up as he hears Hurkvril's question. He looks toward Staunton, trying not to show any emotion.

Bullock glides along behind Callahan and his guards, stopping once they come to a halt. When the procession stops he slips into a ramrod erect stance, his face a mask of intense concentration and belligerent pride.

Callahan's lips smirk lightly as he nods, maneuvering around the table to the seat designated. His guards wait for the Consul to sit before doing so themselves.

Staunton straightens at the L'Soth's inquiry. She takes a beat, then turns to the Nall, shoulders squared, jaw set. "My duty, for now, is here," she says simply.

Novius does not seem to have any intention of sitting, from the very rigid stance she's taken, still at attention, behind Callahan, and his guards, just to the left of Bullock.

Hurkvril draws up slightly, his tail lashing back and forth. He bobs his snout. "Yesss, perhapsss, but in the Clawed Fisssst Fleet, you could challenge a sssssoft male for the right to command." He leans forward for a moment to flick his eye membranes as he studies Porter quietly. Leaning back, he hisses quietly to Staunton: "I believe you could besssst that one."

Porter tucks his tongue in his cheek and arches an eyebrow as he crosses his arms, watching Staunton *very* curiously.

Xavin is making his way toward the designated creamery table within The Big Picture. As the Timonae reaches it, he fills a styrofoam cup with the dark liquid and reaches for the cream. As his eyes fall upon the Nall and the envoy of others, his lips purse open. The cream fills past the lip of the cup and begins to pour over onto the surrounding table.

Callahan chuckles politely, almost automatically, his voice trailing off after a brief moment as if just realizing that might not be a joke. However, he seems to keep the middle ground with a friendly smile.

Staunton pulls her chair out from the table and moves to sit. "I will count that among my options, L'Soth," she says.

Brushtail pads into the mess hall, trying to walk reasonably quietly. He turns towards The Big Picture and enters, heading towards the coffee machine with a soft smile.

Porter clears his throat, then nods to Staunton.

As the liquid spreads over the length of the table the milky tendrils begin to dampen the torso of the Timonae's jumpsuit. When saturation has hit the nerve endings, he snaps his head back sharply toward the cream and quickly sets the carafe upright, scrambling for napkins with a heavy rouge coming to his face.

DS-3633 turns its head back and forth between Porter and Staunton, tilting it slightly, then turning to observe the spilled cream. The magic word for this mechanoid tonight is observe.

Xavin tosses the sopping napkins into the disposal beneath the table, his gait slow and steady as he presses toward the table, sipping quietly from the cup as he nears the Colonel's flank.

Porter nods to Xavin.

Brushtail nears the table, nodding once to Xavin. Checking to see if anyone superior's watching, he places a finger in the cream, then proceeds to lick it clean with a satisfied smile. Retrieving a cup and filling it with a brown, steamy brew, he uses the cup to catch any remaining cream still falling through the napkins.

Staunton leans forward in her chair, looking down the length of the table to both sides. "We are here at the request of Vox Griskoth and First Consul Armitage. The goal is to put behind us the recent conflict between the Martian Republic and the Parallax," she pauses. "First, I think it fitting that we hear from those who will speak on behalf of their respective governments. L'Soth Hurkvril, please."

Xavin grinds his teeth together as he follows the Major's gaze toward the Nall. His stance is rigid, but the Timonae makes no move toward one of the empty chairs that encircle the table.

The crimson clad Martian Recruits stand abreast behind Callahan. In identical uniforms, of almost identical height, they make a handsome pair of bookends. The thickly muscled Bullock is nearly the perfect counterpoint to the feminine curves of Novius. They are both on the short side, and sturdily built. They also seem to be alike in their determination to stand frozen in place behind Callahan in vermillion vigilance. For his part Bullock also seems determined to ruin a bit of the image of scarlet sentinel with his inability to hide the signs of stress and nerves.

Callahan seems to be all smiles today, and few words. He continues this trend through the gratuitous grin that he extends to the Nall, tapering it to something more solemn and respectful after a beat.

Hurkvril bobs his snout, then fixes his dark-eyed gaze on the Second Consul. "The Vokssss appreciatessss the sssspirit in which thissss mosssst ressssssent overture wassss made. It isssss her undersssstanding that the Marsssssian Republic will ssssever itssss polydenum ssssuppliesss from Ssssivad in favor of ressssseiving from the Parallaksssss. Nalhom will become the ssssole ssssupplier of polydenum for the Republic. Our ekkkssssclusssssive arrangement will allow for a tighter bond between our governmentsssss. Issss thissss your underssstanding, Ssssecond Conssssul?"

Brushtail reaches down and retrieves the creme, pouring only a few drops into his cup. Replacing it, he lifts the now creamy coffee to his muzzle and sips it, smiling in satisfaction as he lowers it, ears flicking towards the conversation.

Grishkov continues to remain isolated from the rest, though he continually nods his head at some point that seems distant from where his is, the efforts he puts forth seem to not be to listening, or to any one being there, but to something that can't be seen.

Hunter hmm's slightly, turns and heads out.

Callahan nods slowly, eloquently. "That it is, L'soth. We will become solely dependant on your government's polydenum," he says, straightening his jacket sleeves as he looks across the table unflinchingly.

Volidana enters the tavern well behind Brushtail and Hunter seemingly distracted by her datapad, deep frown creasing her brow blue visible in her aura as she approaches her crewmates.

Novius's shift in their sockets towards the hissing Nall. She sets her jaw, doing her best to remain one of those unmoving bookends. But then her eyes shift in their sockets towards Bullocks, remaining on him for but a moment before returning to stare directly in front of her once again.

Bullock's brows tighten when the 'exclusive' part is repeated several times. Each repetition of that word seemss to have a negative impact on the unfurrowing of his brows.

Brushtail continues sipping the coffee, though he pauses once to lick his muzzle clean. His namesake hangs behind him, flicking gently.

Hurkvril bobs his snout at Callahan. "Then the Parallaksssss will resssscind all sssstanding hunt and desssstroy orderssss for Marssssian Republic vessselssss outsssside Ssssol Ssssyssstem. We will relieve you of further resssssponssssibility for the ssstolen technology inssssident involving your traitoroussss offissser. Issss thissss akssseptable?"

Xavin raises a stiletto-thin eyebrow toward the seated Major, chin turning sharply back toward Hurkvril as the Nall speaks.

Volidana walks slowly to the standing Timonae and hands him her datapadd

Xavin frowns slightly, slender lines appearing in the smooth front of his forehead. The man's lithe face is illuminated by the eerie glow of the device as his eyes trace over the message.

Callahan squints his eyes slightly, his brown irises going flat for the briefest of moments. In that moment, the Consul's mouth opens the slightest bit, as if a second later, a questioning sound would emerge. But this impulse is killed before it can be properly born, and his mouth closes. What emerges afterwards sounds clear and formal, without even an aftertaste of the question left unsaid. "Your terms are acceptable, L'soth.", he says.

Hurkvril gnashes his fangs. "Then we have an agreement. I have one other messssage from the Vokssss." He looks toward Staunton. "Given the effortssss ssshown by the Concordansssse of Free Worldssss to resssolve thissss matter peassssefully, the Vokssss wissshesss to announsssse her intent for the Parallaksss to join your alliansssse of worldssss."

Porter smiles, resting his hands on the table and nodding.

DS-3633 continues its silent observation.

Brushtail coughs at the last bit, managing to do nothing but splatter coffee all over his muzzle. A suprised look is on his face, though he turns away to avoid embarrassing himself further as he licks himself clean again.

Xavin extends the datapadd back toward the Light Singer, dropping his eyes and tilting his head toward her to speak in a low tone, "Tell her we're at Castor indefinitely. If she can make it here in haste," he rounds his shoulders, "We'll suit her needs as best we can." After a moment the Timonae adds in a dull wisp, "The Vanguard won't wait for a single woman, regardless of tone." He gestures toward the glowing screen before turning back to the conference at hand.

Staunton's hands flatten against the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. For a moment, she seems to grasp for words, then she speaks. "L'Soth, I am certain the Concordance of Free Worlds will be honored to have the Nall as members," she says, glancing over her shoulder at the colonel.

Bullock remains a silent witness to history. Other than the occasional shift of his gaze to Recruit Novius, he remains a flesh and blood statue clad in carmine and crimson.

Porter nods to Staunton, smiling.

Grishkov seems to remain oblivious to what is happening, though he shows more connections, such as seemingly unconscious nodding and shaking of his head, other contradictory actions show as well, though he continues to remain a distance away from the negotiations, he takes a drink of the coffee infront of him even though his eyes are still closed. He mumbles something about peace and smiles, but then goes back to his state of contemplation.

Callahan nods slowly, his face now much more formal, as if to steal a smile would be some sort of failure. His back remains stiff, his lips impassive.

Hurkvril stands, raising his tattooed palm in salute to Staunton. "We depart now. I will deliver word of thesssse ssssukssssessssful prossssedingssss to the Vokssss immediately." He lowers his hand, bowing reverentially to Staunton before saying: "We will meet again, female. Nalia sssshine on you and your effortssss to bessst the ssssoft thing that leadsss you."

Porter just rubs his forehead with his hand.

Volidana nods taking her padd back and going about the business of delivering the message directed

Brushtail's features break into a soft frown as he finishes off the coffee and places the cup in the disposal unit.

Staunton stands, raising her own hand to salute the L'Soth. "And I will pass your good intentions along to the Concordance of Free Worlds. Godspeed on your journey," she says.

Hurkvril turns toward his guards, grunting. He says, "llruth chufffff chufffff sthacuff llruth sthacuff ssssiiiss"

Callahan stands as well. "I hope for continued successful relations in the future," he greets the Nall with a strong voice. His guards stand a beat afterwards.

Folding her hands loosely behind her back, Staunton inclines her head toward Xavin. "Corporal, please show our Nall guests back to their ship."

Hurkvril bobs his snout at Callahan. "Deliver my regardssss to your Firssst Conssssul." His warriors then begin to follow him around the table and toward the crew facilities.

Xavin follows behind the Nall formation after a brief dip of the head toward the Major, "At your pacing, L'Soth."

Porter stands to observe the departure of the Nall. Once it appears Hurkvril is out of earshot, Porter leans toward Staunton and inquires: "Among your options, eh?"

A splotch of color appears high on the major's cheeks. "I was trying to be diplomatic," she says quietly.

Hurkvril glances up at the olive-skinned softskin who follows. He grunts. "Come, ssssoft thing. We will try to avoid making you ssssweat too profusssely." Followed by his warriors, he departs.

"I will," Callahan replies with a slight smile.

Perhaps it is merely the internal heating of the ship, but the Timonae /is/ sweating.

Standing at ease, Brushtail remains relatively quiet until he finds something reflective to look into, at which point he mutters to himself and begins cleaning the coffee from his uniform with a napkin.

Porter nods curtly, winking at Staunton. "Right." He extends a hand across the table to Callahan. "Congratulations, Consul."

Bullock remains motionless in his position behind Callahan, though his eyes watch the Nall depart. He noticeably relaxes with the lizard has left. A small sigh of relief escapes his lips.

Grishkov remains at the table in contemplation with his coffee, still seemingly unable to consciously determine what is going on.

Callahan takes the hand and shakes it, his hand now quite clammy and much more weak. "Thank you, thank you..." he trails off, sighing tiredly and grinning to one side.

Novius too seems to relax, her shoulders sagging several centimeters from where they had been crawling up towards her ears. Her gaze shifts to the Martian Consul for a moment, trying to gage his mood, then returns to that space right before her, staring at nothing.

Volidana finally completes her message and stands errect waiting for her superiors to depart.

Porter gestures to the bar. "Feel free to have a drink and relax. We're not due back right away."

DS-3633 steps forward and addresses Porter, "This unit will return to the crew quarters for information processing."

Porter nods to DS-3633. "Very well."

Callahan begins to head towards the bar as soon as it is mentioned. "Don't mind if I do," he says, coughing once afterwards.

DS-3633 turns and walks out.

Novius just remains where she is, though she breaks her firm stance to turn her head vaguely towards Bullock, in order to see exactly what it is he's doing, since Callahan seesm to be heading barward.

Volidana approaches Porter slowly. "May I go as well, sir? I apologize for my tardiness and the interruption but I felt the message was urgent."

Staunton follows in step behind the Consul. "I hope that went as well as you expected," she says. "It was certainly a step up from past attempts."

Bullock looks at Novius and offers a slight shrug of the shoulders.

Porter nods once to the Light Singer. "Permission Granted," he says, then turns to follow the Major toward the bar.

Brushtail turns towards the bar, his uniform once again impeccably cleaned. However, he turns again and heads towards a table, rather than continue into the bar.

Callahan nods limply and sighs again. "Certainly a step up." he repeats. "A big step up."

Volidana's DataPADD chirps as it receives a new message.

Sal'thrla fires its maneuvering thrusters after withdrawing its umbilical from the Minerva and arcs away from the Wasp-class vessel, drifting gracefully over the verdant sphere of Castor.

Staunton glances toward Xavin as he re-enters the mess area and raises an expectant eyebrow.

Xavin returns to the mess hall of the ship alone, his gait quickening as he steps rapidly up the stairway toward the pub, eyes glancing briefly toward the creamery table. His eyes focus upon the Major and the Timonae merely dips his head.

"Nall away?" the Major asks quietly of the corporal.

Xavin extends a wiry finger toward the massive glass tapestry and the departing Nall vessel.

Novius shrugs back at Diesel, then just continues to flank Callahan, staying in that rigid posture.

Xavin says, "Like a Valshoan storm, Major."

Porter walks over to the bar and nods to the server. "Iced tea, please."

Volidana turns and leaves,nodding first to Xavin as he re-enters "Thank you for handling that matter ..I apologizes for the " is interrupted by her pad's beeping.

"Good man," Staunton says quietly, then turns her attention back to Callahan. "I assmume your superiors will be pleased?"

The barkeep slides a glass of iced tea to the Lt. Colonel, who then walks over to join Major Staunton and Second Consul Callahan.

Callahan turns his shoulders towards Staunton. "I should hope so. It's what I've been planning for the last week or so." He chuckles, heading closer to the bar. "It's now time for a little calmer."

Xavin selects a seat adjacent to the Major's, pulling the chair from its grave beneath the table and easing into it silently. His eyes rest tentatively upon the Martian.

Wordlessly, the bartender slides a mug of coffee to the major as she approaches, then turns to the Consul. "What can I get you, Sir?"

Callahan smiles tightly at the bartender. "Ever heard of a little something called a 'Betty Page'?", he asks, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

Brushtail sits down at his table, resting his chin on his paws and looking straight ahead, through the view to the vacuum outside.

Volidana looks up from her pad and walks up behind Xavin's chair and says simply "She's on her way, sir."

The bartender stares blankly at the Martian, then looks over to the Major, who responds with a simple shrug. "Can you tell me what's in it?"

"To Castor?" Xavin turns his head up toward the Vollistan before nodding several times in rhythmic syncopation. Looking back toward Staunton, he queries, "Thinking of descending to Castor to refuel, Major?"

Brushtail stands, ears flicking as he overhears the conversation. He pads towards the Major and the Colonel, stopping and saluting. He remains quiet, though.

Callahan smirks. "Just a shot of whiskey will do, then.", he says, still chuckling as he sits down on a barstool. He turns to look around for the recruits.

Staunton nods. "Yes, Mr. Carazz. Sometime tonight, I should think."

Bullock stands at attention, knees locked tight next to Novius.

As the bartender pours a rather long shot of whiskey for the Martian visitor, Staunton rubs her temple with one finger. "You know, it may seem like you gave up an awful lot tonight," she says, looking into the inky depths of her coffee cup. "But maybe the Sivadians have it coming to them."

Porter leans against the bar, taking a sip of his tea. "Consul, what you did tonight wasn't easy, but I think it's a small price to pay for interstellar peace."

Volidana nods as well in confirmation to Xavin's question to her, if indeed it was a query to her.

The recruits are right behind Callahan. Novius, for one, is standing there, with wide eyes, teetering a bit. A good stiff wind might blow her over at this point. She's been at attention for a very long time and that's not an easy thing to do, especially considering the stressful situation.

Callahan smiles knowingly. "We gave up nothing but a few monkeys on our back," he says simply. He turns towards the recruits. "You kids want anything?" he asks with a smile.

Porter chuckles, then nods and looks toward Brushtail. "Nice flying tonight, Private. When we wrap things up, just land on Castor and refuel. We'll layover for a day."

Brushtail nods, dropping the salute. "You just answered my question, sir." Pausing, he gestures towards an open seat at the bar. "May I join you?"

Porter nods. "Sure."

Xavin nods toward the Major and rises to face Volidana, "It will be best to convey that information to her. You know this woman, Volidana?"

Bullock moistens his lips, and looks to be in about as rocky of condition as Novius. He too looks to be close to collapse, though when spoken to by Callahan he summons up some willpower and straightens up. Though the flick of his tongue upon his lips and his eyes say yes, what he says is, "Sir, no sir. Recruit Bullock is fine, sir."

Novius stares at Callahan, unsure what to do. She swallows hard, "Sir, no sir." She answers the same way as Bullock, just grateful that she does not have to lift her arm to salute just now.

Brushtail nods, sitting down slowly, though his shoulders remain back and he sits bolt upright, looking not entirely comfortable in the relatively relaxed setting.

Porter looks over at the Demarian. "First diplomatic affair?"

Callahan nods quickly, taking his shot glass and shooting it. He does the obligatory grimace. "Suit yourselves," he chuckles.

Volidana shakes her head "No sir. She said she found my name in the public listing. You want me to send her anything more?"

Brushtail nods once. "Yes, sir. The first one this informal, sir." Brushtail frowns, ears twitching softly.

Novius stares at Callahan, then glances at Bullock. He's not in any better shape than she is. Okay, time to break Military protocol. Perhaps it won't be so bad, the Consul is drinking and maybe that will soften the blow, "Second Consul Callahan. This Recruit requests permission to move into the 'at ease' pose. Sir." She grimaces, "Please?"

Porter chuckles. "The next one we do, you'll be inside an atmosphere suit."

Bullock shoots Novius a look of gratitude.

Brushtail frowns further. "On Centauri, sir? That will be a... new experience." The frown fades as Brushtail sits, obviously thinking more than he speaks.

Porter nods to Brushtail. "New for you, maybe. It's old hat for the Major."

Callahan laughs, his hand moving in a brushing gesture towards Novius. "At ease. Go mingle for a few minutes. Just don't go too far."

Staunton turns slowly in her chair to watch the Consul's exchange with the Martian soldiers. Silently, she sips at the steaming cup of coffee.

"Not an easygoing bunch you have there," Staunton says, swallowing.

Novius sighs with gratitude, and as she spreads her feet apart to take a more natural stance, she nearly topples over. "Sir. Thank you sir!" She tries to bark, but her voice cracks slightly. She moves into the at ease position, hands behind her back. Then she gets a confused look upon her face, as the rest of his words register. She glances at Bullock, and mouths, "As you were?" and shrugs vaguely, but remains where she is, feet planted at shoulder width, hands behind her back, looking a little distraught.

Bullock breaks out of attention instantly and rolls his shoulders one at a time while lifting his feet. A quiet moan of satisfaction escapes his lips before he turns to Novius and claps her upon the shoulder, "Thanks Supernova."

Bullock grins, "No.. he means we can act like people..like, relax and stuff."

Xavin nods toward the Vollistan as he reclaims his seat, "If you'd instruct the woman that she can meet the Minerva at the Ursiniru spaceport we'll do our best to accommodate her." He smiles firmly before turning toward Staunton, "Seems a woman has an urgent need to speak with the Minerva's medical staff. If it has regards to the," he clears his throat, "To the virus, I'd rather not gamble, Major."

Novius nods a little, "Right..." She mutters and stands upright, shaking out her arms, "Right. Okay..." She glances around and looks completely like a G'ahnli out of water. She looks at Bullock, near panic in her eyes, "Now what?"

Callahan chuckles. "They're recruits.", he says, turning back to Staunton and his empty glass. "I had to take them away from their studies."

Porter nudges Staunton's elbow. "Major, why don't you tell Private Brushtail here about the temperatures on Centauri? On a hot day?"

Porter hears the corporal's comment about a virus. "TRV?" he inquires, smile fading.

Brushtail frowns, glancing down at his own paws, then perking back up and looking up at Xavin, listening.

Staunton turns back over her shoulder, "This woman got a name, Mr. Carazz?"

Xavin turns his head in a quick snap toward the Colonel, hand sweeping through the air in a guise of grandeoise. "No gambles to be made on this, Colonel." At the Major's query he glances questioningly up toward the Vollistan.

Bullock leans in close to Novius and says in a quiet voice, "I don't know, let's just uh.. want something to drink? I'm dying here."

Porter nods, then looks toward Callahan. "Your choice, Consul: We can let you depart now, or you can ride with us down to Castor while we pick up this passenger. If this person has TRV, it's not contagious, from what we can tell."

Novius nods her head quickly to Bullock's question, "Yes. Please. Water." She pauses for a moment, "Or... do you think it would be appropriate for me to ask for some soda?" It's an honest question. She really doesn't know, and is awfully confused. She sticks close to Bullock who seems to be adjusting to this social situation with much more ease.

The bartender winks at the female soldier, gracing her with an easy smile. "One soda, coming up," he says.

In no time at all, the bartender produces a frosty glass of soda and places it on the bar. "I gave you extra ice," he says, his smile still broad. "Would you like a cherry?"

Brushtail remains quiet and returns to his silent brooding, looking straight ahead.

Bullock grins as the bartender jumps on the request, and answers for Novius, "Yes, she likes cherry. And could you get me a Neptune cola, heavy on the ice too please?"

Volidana glances down at her padd and tries to wrap her tongue around the Unstiri name "Ekaterina Inno..ken..tevna, sir. I probably messed it up"

Novius nods a little at the Bartender, eyeing him up with no small amount of suspicion. In fact that's the same way she's been regarding the rest of the crowd here, with the exception of the Second Consul, Bullock, and the Martian Legion Guards. She leans over and sniffs at the contents of the glass before picking it up and taking a very tiny sip. She leans over and says to Bullock, "Did you see them, with those big teeth, and their tails swishing all over the place? I'm amazed I can keep this down..." She takes another sip and seems to relax just a bit.

Callahan rubs his chin. "I don't think I have any choice.", he says, gesturing towards the recruits. "Looks like they've settled in. You want them?", he joshes.

The major's face mouth turns downward into a frown, then, as if carried by sheer momentum, into a scowl. "I don't like this," she says simply.

Porter smiles faintly, then looks toward Brushtail. "Take us down." He looks toward Xavin. "Get her aboard." Again, he turns toward the Demarian pilot. "Once she's aboard, lay in a course for Concordance Station. Send a message ahead to Dr. Ranix that we're bringing another possible TRV patient."

Xavin raises a hand with the palm forward, the usual passionate melody of the Timonae's voice yielding to a calm steadiness, "With an emphasis on possible. In all hope, she may merely have information."

Clearly unaffected by the sour mood around him, the bartender nods once to the Martian. "Neptune Cola it is," he says. "Extra ice." When it hits the bar, the glass seems to almost sparkle with frost.

Brushtail stands immediately, snapping to attention. "Yes, sir. We'll be down as soon as I can get the engines going." At that, he salutes, drops the salute, and turns on his heel, practically jogging out.

[Loudspeaker] Bridge to crew. Brace for a planetary drop.

Bullock watches Novius sniff her drink and nudges her, "You got some kind of toxin sniffer nose? Or you just like the bubbles?" He chuckles, then takes his cola. He proceeds to drain the glass to the halfway point. He grins when he drops the glass back down to the countertop, "Oh man that hit the spot." He looks at the bartender and says, "Thank you." His eyes scan for a nametag and his right hand removes a wallet from his uniform.

The ship shudders as the drop rockets engage and the ship begins its descent.

Porter takes the shuddering in stride, taking a sip as the Minerva begins to descend into the atmosphere.

The landing struts thump against the surface.

The bartender raises a hand as Bullock goes for his funds. "No, no," he says. "Compliments of the house."

Novius glances at Bullock, her brow creasing at the ease in which he's handling this non-military activity. She hangs on to her glass with both hands, leaning against the bar slightly for support. "Sssssseeems the ssssssssship is sssssinking..." She mimics a Nall accent with a good deal of disdain. "When do you think we'll get back to Mars?" She asks Bullock, keeping her head tipped forward and her shoulders up towards her ears.

The clenching of his fingers against the table's edge is Xavin's only bracing to the descent.

Porter leans toward Staunton and says, "Major, why don't you go along with the Corporal and see to our guest? I'll keep these folks company."

Bullock slips a bill acroos the bar towards the bartender. "A gratuity for good service." He looks around the room, "Did we really enter atmosphere? Uh...what about the Elysium?"

Callahan turns to grimace as he hears Novius. His eyes are disdainful. "Not now.", he mouths in the recruits' direction."

Xavin says, "nahlieen dharna Nyl' janeiU Airenei Sarie'a nahlieen ces'Edien da'aeu nahlieen janeiU Sarie'a ces'Edien Naeli nahlieen"

Novius stands up straight the moment that she notices Callahan's gaze upon her. She puts the glass down on the bar, and once again is at attention, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Porter nods to Bullock. "She's safe in the shuttle bay. We'll be back in orbit soon enough. You can launch then, if you like, or tag along as far as Concordance Station."

Xavin rises from his chair as he speaks his racial tongue in a dull, mantra-paced murmur.

Bullock looks over at Novi, suddenly grinning, "Did you just do a Nall?" He chuckles, "Do it again I wasn't paying attention."

Staunton nods, already getting to her feet. "Aye, Colonel." Taking one final draw from the coffee mug, Staunton gestures to Xavin. "Mr. Carazz, shall we?"

Novius shakes her head in a tiny, frantic motion to Bullock, her eyes gettig wider and wider. "No." She mouths.

Bullock gives Novius' shoulder a shake, "Hey, snap out of it Supernova. He didn't say we got to jump to...relax. I guess we get to hang out with the movers and shakers for a bit." He grins at her, "Come on... Pleeasssssse."

Xavin grins haphazardly, stepping from the table and incling his head toward the airlock, "By your grace, Major. As always." He glances briefly toward the Colonel and the Martians, "The Lady prove a path for the Voice to guide."

Volidana watches the two go with a concerned expression

Callahan turns back towards the bar. "Could I get one more whiskey?", he asks quietly, sighing a little.

Well Novius' head looks like it might explode when Bullock says that last word, "Shhhh." She exhausts that shush from her mouth with great force. She watches Xavin, from beneath a furrowed brow, "Maybe I should go back to the ship."

The bartender nods to Callahan, smiling. "Coming right up."

Staunton's lips press tightly together. "Let's go."

Bullock rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, sit down and drink you soda Novius. We're drinking with the second consul, you don't want to run to the ship."

Novius leans over and says to Bullock with the utmost sincerity, "Now I finally understand why my father chose to stay a non-com for all those years." She nods, commiserating with herself. She leans over and very quietly mutters to Bullock, hoping only he can hear, "We're surrounded by /Aliens/ here, and he hates us!"

Porter looks toward Volidana. "This woman a friend of yours that we're going to get?"

Callahan nods, and turns towards the recruits, getting off his chair, and heading towards them.

Bullock nods his head, "Yeah? So? Who hates us? Just try and relax. I swear, you are a walking heart attack Novi."

Novius mutters, down into her soda, "Ya? Well I didn't grow up going to 'coming out' parties either. White bread."

Bullock says, "Well at least I'm not allergic to having fun."

Volidana shakes her head "No sir, she found my datapad number in the public lists and used it as a way to get in touch with us."

Porter arches an eyebrow, but nods. "Right. Okay, well, you're welcome to join them, if you like."

Novius looks up at Bullock, her eyes narrowed. She's about to send a verbal volley in his direction when she notices the approach of the Second Consul and she straightens up quickly.

Volidana nods "Thank you sir" she says and heads out

Callahan puts a hand on Novius' shoulder softly, his eyes level. "You kids doin' okay?" he asks.

Novius nearly jumps out of her skin when Callahan puts his hand on her shoulder. But then it seems to have a calming effect on her. She says quietly, not using the usual guttural bark, "Sir. Yes sir. It's just..." She swallows hard, "Sir, this Recruit requests permission to speak freely sir." That might be a very bad idea.

Bullock straightens up as he notes Callahan's arrival after Novius. He nods his head quickly, "Sir, yes sir!" He hastily puts down his soda.

"Granted," the Consul says seriously, his face getting into that deceptive calm before a storm that fathers are wont to adopt. This may very well be a bad idea.

Novius is at least smart enough to lower her voice to just above a whisper, "Sir.. Second Consul, sir. I know I'm just a recruit, and I don't know a lot about politics, but... but..." She looks like she might cry, or throw a tantrum, "Why did you kiss the scaly ass of that creature? He sat there and said straight out that we were involved in that fiasco, and we all know that's not true. Now we have to cowtow to get polydenum from those... /things/! And we can't do anything with out that. This is upsetting sir. It's worse than upsetting, it's a disaster! Sir..." Well she asked...

Bullock's brows rise steadily as Novius starts to speak freely...and very freely at that. He slides a hand on the bar slowly till the back of his hand rests on his glass, then he slides that same hand back towards the edge of the bar. As she looks to be on the verge of continuing he glances this way and that, then 'accidentally' knocks his glass to the floor, sending cola and ice flying. "Oh shoot!" He hops up, "Oh man!"

Porter sips his tea, observing the Martians with quiet contemplation and a marked lack of emotion.

Bullock says, "I didn't get any on you did I Second Consul? I'm sorry, let me clean this up."

Callahan smiles and chuckles, lowering his own voice to play her game. "Child, when you get to be my age, you learn that there are a lot more things under the sea than pride. Survival is /not/ overrated." He winces as a piece of ice hits his lapel and bounces off. "No, no...you're fine," he says to Bullock, annoyed.

Porter leans forward, resting an elbow on the bar. "Folks, First Consul Armitage admitted during that fiasco of a negotiation on Concordance two weeks ago that your person was, in fact, involved. The Nall didn't make it up."

Bullock slips around to Callahan's side while he deals with the spill, grabbing some napkins from the bar. When he's outside of his superior's periphreal vision he shakes his head at Novius very quickly before dropping to clean up his mess.

Novius is just about to go further when Bullock spills that drink and some spashes on her uniform pants, "Ohmygod..." Now /that/ is a big disaster in her book, she wouldn't pass inspection that way. She grabs for a paper towel, "Soda water!" She orders from the bartender, and crouches to try and minimalize the damage. She glares at Bullock for a moment, then looks up at Callahan, "Sir you can't honestly believe that sir, that they would be able to eradicate us..." She glances at Porter, and what the heck, she got permission to speak freely right? "One rotten apple does not a bad bushel make!" Her father always said that. Maybe he meant her. "Our government was not involved, why I'm getting..." That's when she notices Bullock shaking his head, "What? What? What?"

Porter shrugs. "Your government *was* involved in appearing to cover up her involvement. This saves face for both you and the Nall."

Bullock slaps a hand over his forehead and eyes. He keeps the 'Doh!' to himself however.

Callahan looks like he wants to crawl inside the fallen glass and die. But he is a strong man, and his back straightens. "Mistakes were made," he says quietly, semi-diplomatically. He moves to grab his forgotten whiskey greedily.

"Saves face??!?" Novius stands up to her full height of 5'6" tall, which isn't all that impressive and puffs out her chest, which is. "Why those forked tongued, scaly, long tailed abominations think they can walk all over anyone because they threaten war. Well I have news for everyone, the /only/ way to combat something like that is to give it to them in spades! You think that other worlds are safe from their strong arm politics? I do not for one moment believe that our Government willfully withheld information. They got that later! And they coughed it up, that's an honorable thing to do!" You can nearly see the Martian Flag flying behind Novius as she spouts her heartfelt propaganda.

Porter nods, taking another sip of his tea. He calmly sets the glass down, then says, "Seems to me, everyone got what they wanted tonight. The Nall get a new business partner and you get them off your backs. It's not like you gave them Mars, is it?"

Bullock coughs, and puts his soggy napkins back on the bar and frowns. He seems about to try another stunt to divert attention from Novius' words, but then he stops and his chin comes forward. Flag waving apparently has a decided effect on him, "I don't like the prospect of our supply of polydenum being controlled by those slimy suitcases myself. They are sure to try and use it to their benefit..." He groans as he realizes he let his tongue out of its cage.

Callahan takes his drink and swallows it quickly, wincing. "It was the right thing to do.", he agrees with Porter.

"We might as well have given them Mars! Now we have to smooch scaly backside to get a couple of ounces of polydenum. The life�s blood of any modern world. That doesn't sound very fair to me." Novius folds her arms over her chest, and her shoulders start to rise towards her ears. She glances around sheepishly, not able to look at the Second Consul, or anyone for that matter, not directly in the eye. They all have nice shoes though.

Porter nods. "Rumor has it the Sivadian Intelligence Service was behind the attack on your Cydonia Base. Trouble is, you really can't prove it definitively. Your enemies aren't necessarily just the ones who look weird."

Callahan has apparently had enough. His designated purpose of the last week is completed, the day is won. But this one little thing seems to irritate him like a deerfly. More, and more...and more. He turns towards the recruits, his face slowly reddening. From drink? From anger? Who's to say?

Novius grunts, "Oh... oh... The Sivadians...." Her face screws up as she continues looking at the floor, an angry look on her face that is fueled by the fire burning in her heart, "It's time Mars started..." But her words trail off. She glances up at Porter and just looks him in the eye for a long moment. "I don't like you." She finally says, very quietly. As if that matters. She straightens up, and digs into her pocket for some crebar which she leaves on the bar, "To pay for my drink." She nods, "I'll be going back to the Elysium now." Good thing she had permission to speak freely.

Porter smiles crookedly and nods, raising his tea glass in salute.

Bullock draws a finger across his throat as he turns to look at Novius, but too late. He hangs his head and says, "Request permission to return to the Elysium sir."

Callahan hisses from between his teeth, "Granted."

Bullock puts a hand to the small of Novius' back and urges her towards the exit. "Thank you sir!" He hisses a whisper at Novius, "Come on!"

Novius is moving towards the door, but that hand on her back makes her double time, "What? What is your problem, I had permission." She honestly doesn't seem to understand.

Bullock sighs, "We'll talk about it later when we are peeling potatoes."

Callahan chuckles, one of those laughs that could be interpreted as humor or nervousness. "You taught me my lesson.", he replies quietly.

Novius shakes her head, "What are you talking about? I asked for permisison. You obviously don't understand how things work in the Military..." Someone doesn't, that's for sure.

Porter glances over at Callahan after watching the soldiers depart. "I wonder how much of their sentiment will be shared back home."

Callahan sighs, his face a mixture of embarassment and old man-tiredness. "It's about half and half nowadays.", he admits, nodding gruffly and slumping in his chair.

Porter nods to Callahan. "Well, you might remind them to look at Earth on the way home and remember that people who think that way, of their own species, did that. Not the Nall. Not any aliens. *We* did it to ourselves."

Callahan smirks. "Some still deny that KEP actually did it. Some are still spreading the tale that the aliens did it. The aliens funded it. Ignorance doesn't die in its sleep, sir. It only dies kicking and screaming and clawing."

Porter takes a sip of tea. He nods, setting the glass down. "I suppose." He chuckles. "When we launch, I assume you're going to want to get the hell back to Mars and report to the First Consul?"

Callahan nods slowly. "And give those kids a piece of my mind.", he grumbles. "And check to see if they're teaching them that in the schools."

Porter laughs, extending a hand. "Good meeting you, Consul. Good luck."

Callahan takes the hand, shaking it. "Good to meet you, Lt. Colonel. I hope to see you again soon." He stands slowly, achingly.

Porter nods. "Count on it." He takes another sip of tea.

Callahan releases Porter's hand as he steps back. "Thank you," he says simply, saluting then about-facing, walking towards the door.

Porter nods, slides his remaining tea across the bar before walking toward the crew facilities.

Soon, in the Medical/Science Center aboard the Minerva...

Medical/Science Center

The vessel's chief medical officer and staff maintain a relatively spotless facility, with exam and operating tables, vital sign monitors and the latest in hi-tech gadgetry. Pharmaceuticals are stored in code-sealed lockers. A medical computer provides symptoms and potential diagnoses at the touch of a button. Emblazoned in red on the gunmetal gray aft bulkhead is the double-snake entwined staff known among medical practitioners as the cadeucus.

Porter strides into the medical center, hands clasped behind his back. "All right, what's the situation?"

Staunton turns at the voice. "Colonel Porter, this is Ms. Innokentevna. She is the one Mr. Crazz told you about earlier. She has just arrived."

Porter lifts an eyebrow, then nods to the Ungstiri woman. "Welcome aboard."

Innokentevna steps in, a single step, looking about the efficient space. A few more steps, and she finds her own coner to stand. A pace away, a bit separate. A toss of her head shades her face, ragged bangs a sable veil. She nods politely to the Colonel, words quiet. "Rad paznamomitsa ... please't to meet you. An' I theenk zere ees a goot chance, I am een trouble."

The Major, Timonae and Ungstiri have just entered the medical bay. At the Colonel's arrival, Xavin turns quickly and extends an arm to gesture toward Innokentevna, "Katya, Lieutennant Colonel David Porter who commands this ship." He steps back against the wall of the bay, arms folded over his chest. "If you'd be so kind." He waves his hand in a minor flourish in the air.

Porter tilts his head slightly. "I got the indication you might think you're afflicted with TRV?"

Arms folded across her chest, Staunton waits for the woman's answer.

The small devachka slowly nods her head, quiet and sure. There i a hint of steel there, as she begins to speak. Her words are quiet, softspoken, but prefessionally even and clipped. "A leetle more zan a month ago, gospadin an gospahza ... I vas on Quaquan. I vas zere, seeking a parteecular doctor for a frient ov mine ... eet did nyi help, zat my ovn rite hant vas crush't .. an accedent, vrist shashe't, mulieeplefeengers broken. My adopt't seester, a man name ov Goltenhavk, zey sav ... an accortink to zem, I faneesh't from zre site, vaneesh't eento theen air."

Porter nods, listening.

Staunton frowns, eyes narrowed.

[Loudspeaker] Bridge to all Minerva personnel. Prepare for launch.

The ship rumbles as it lifts off the ground and arches skyward.

Porter instinctively braces a hand against the doorframe.

Xavin leans back against the wall to brace himself, eyes flickering toward the loudspeaker before coming to rest back on the Ungstiri. "I've heard that name." Furrowing his brow he glances toward Porter.

You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up.

[Loudspeaker] All Minerva personnel, prepare for jump. We'll arrive at Concordance in roughly six minutes.

"For meeet vas like sleepink, like a nap after a hart tay vorkink a claim. But i vas tolt i va gone, for a hantful ov hours. I voult hafe thought I vas crazy, da? Except ... except my rite hant ... een zat hantful ov hours ... eet vas perfectly, an' completely heal't." Katya draws her hands from behind her back, fingers unconsiously playing over the bones and muscles, counting them. "I ... I spent zee next month, askinkik, vho coult do zat, vho voult sometheenklike zat do. I efen place't an att ..." She lets out a long slow breath. "I vas tolt ..." She just reaches out, then, braced upon the wall. "I vas tolt Hivers ... Kamir ... or Thul ... an zen, tvo folks I respect fery much heart my story ... an' zey both, sait all signs lead ... to Thul."

Porter nods slowly. "Have you experienced any dizziness? Headaches? Lost any teeth?"

[Loudspeaker] Jumping now.

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

The ship reverberates slightly as it speeds through OtherSpace.

Innokentevna tilts her head, quiet. "Gospadi ... I vas just zere ... I hope zee Castori do nyi hafe lanting pad fees." Her words are even, not a complaint, just a pragmatic observation. To porter's question shejust shakes her head. "Nyet ... " She lets out a short chuff of breath. "Or at least nyi yet." Her shoulders shrug, philosophically, as she raises her hand. "Zis ees zee only theeng zat ees proof to me, zat i am nyi treamink zis, da? Zomeone feex't my hant better zan any doctortveen Concordance an' heafen. But I am nyi sure I vant to be arount, vhen zee Doctor comes to collect zee beell."

You feel the hum of the ship around you as it travels through OtherSpace.

Porter crosses his arms, nodding. "Well, our chief medical officer is currently helping out on Concordance. We'll let Doctor Ranix take a look."

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

Xavin grits his teeth together before snapping toward the Ungstiri, "To follow signs blindly may prove more dangerous than the Kamir or the Thul themselves. On Val Shohob I watched a mere novice heal an injured hawk with her mere mind." He shakes his head slowly, adding toward the Major, "It is dangerous to make these assumptions."

[Loudspeaker] Bridge to Minerva personnel. Demaria's stars are in sensor range, we're about to perform a correctional jump. Don't relax quite yet.

Porter nods to Xavin. "On the same token, don't assume your hand just fixed itself. The Thul are known to do that kind of thing."

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

Your mind wanders for a moment as the ship travels through OtherSpace.

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

You feel the ship begin to slow.

Staunton raises an eyebrow at the Timonae, but does not answer his comment.

[Loudspeaker] All right. Miscalculation there, we overshot the target.

Xavin nods slightly, "Don't assume. What will be will be." The Timonae falls silent, watching the woman uneasily.

Porter lifts his eyes toward the loudspeaker. "Was he drinking alcohol?"

Staunton shakes her head solemnly. "I don't believe so, Sir."

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

Innokentevna facepalms, finally a gallows smile crossing her fetures. "Gospadi. I probably sav her earlier zees efenink." But then her hed snaps back, looking to Xavin. "Zo vhat voult you hafe me do? Seet back an' pretent eet vas just a tream? I hafe a hantful ov hours just meesink from my life. I vant zem back. An eef zomeone else has been torn by zees ... If I can be ov any help ... I veel zat do." She looks back to the Timonae. "Da. Vhat veel be .. veel be. But I veel nyi go easy, eento zee dark."

You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up.

Xavin nearly slips at the quick lurching, bracing himself firmly against the wall in a mad effort to catch himself. Loosing his footing he stumbles and hits the deck below, wincing slightly. "By Maza," he curses lightly, coming to his knees before the jerk of acceleration drops him back on his haunches.

You feel the ship begin to slow.

The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace.

The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace.

Staunton moves to kneel beside the corporal, a hand bracing him at the shoulder. "Careful," she says.

[Loudspeaker] Private Brushtail here. We're nearing Concordance, requesting permission to dock.

Innokentevna lets her knees absorb the shock of the ship's motion, her outstretched arm providing balance. At the last she just blinks, a small smile flitting across her face as she recognizes the maneuver. "She steps fast an' far, your sheep does."

You feel the ship begin to slow.

You feel a slight force as the ship glides to a halt ...

Porter nods to Innokentevna, smiling slightly. "That she does. If you want, make yourself comfortable aboard the Minerva." He looks toward Staunton. "Look, get in touch with Doctor Ranix and ask her to transfer her radiation patients here. She can treat them aboard the Minerva just as easily, and we need to put some priority on the TRV research."

As he rises, the Timonae stares hard toward the Ungstiri, "There is a difference between pre-emptive assumption and tactful action. Both require training," his hand dusts in a mild fury against the leggings of his jumpsuit adding half-heartedly toward the Colonel, "Maybe Miss Steele will happen to forget to order the shipment of drigrib."

[Loudspeaker] Docking with Concordance now.

Innokentevna just draws her hands forwardrasing them to the Timonae, palms up, the shrug of her shoulders philosphic. "Zat ees a fair statement. My brozer Mitya, he alvays sait, I all zee tact ov a breek hafe." She leans back, quiet now. "Prashu proscheniya ... my apologies. I came here, seekink help.I do nyi vish to cause tenshun, da?"

Staunton nods, coming to her feet. "Aye, Colonel. Right away." With a nod, she turns for the door.

Porter shakes his head. "No tension." He glances toward Xavin, frowning a little, then returns his attention to the Ungstiri. "The Corporal just hasn't been the same since he went camping."

Xavin laughs thinly, "These tensions have long been in existence." He starts for the airlock hatch, speaking sideways toward the Colonel as he passes him, "And existed long before any journey to Quaquan." The Timonae's tone borders on the line between optimism and apathy.

Innokentevna turns then to the Colonel. "Spasiba, Colonel Porter ... I appreciate zee offer, for sure. Eef I can help, een return, you just hafe to ask." She then chuckles, soft single puff of breath. "Da ... zat I can unterstant ... I hafen't been zee same zince zat day on Quaquan. I just vish to face theese, heat on. Hopefully I am just beink silly. Hopefully."

Porter nods to Innokentevna. "Get some rest. The doctor will see you in the morning, I hope." He then turns for the door.

Innokentevna nods quietly and looks about, she snares a chair and collapses back upon it. "I shall be here, zen ... da svidaniya. An thanks for your time."

Porter nods, stepping out.

Corridor

Navy blue impact cushioning covers the deckplates in this 20-foot-wide, 15-foot-high corridor that stretches about 60 feet from the command hull to the cargo and engineering facilities.

Overhead light strips alternate amber and white - the amber capable of serving as emergency auxiliary lights in case of general power failures.

Hatches that can be sealed in case of crises such as hull breaches or biohazard releases lead to crew quarters, the medical/science center, the cargo hold and shuttle bay, a crew briefing room, and the vessel's command center.

Porter emerges from the medical bay, rubbing a palm on his forehead.

Brushtail steps out of the command center, a dark scowl on his face. The poof hanging from his posterior is behind him, flicking agitatedly.

Porter glances toward Brushtail and nods. "You did a good job tonight, Private."

Xavin is standing directly outside of the medical bay, arms folded loosely over his chest. Porter is stepping from the airlock hatch at the Demarian's arrival.

"Thank you, sir." Brushtail replies, the scowl fading. "Not as well as I should have, though. I managed to mis-jump in my home system. Twice."

Porter tilts his head. "You drink something alcoholic in the bar?"

Brushtail shakes his head. "No, sir. I was and am on duty. Nothing but coffee. And unless that's been spiked with something I didn't smell, I'm as sober as the day I was born. Just bad reflexes on the return trip, I suppose." Brushtail frowns, ears remaining alert. "I'll try to avoid the coffee if I forsee myself flying, if it's a problem, sir."

Porter nods, smiling slightly. "All right."

Xavin glances toward the digital clock overhead, "Well I'm off, and a drink sounds damn good to me." He chuckles slightly, looking down the corridor, "following the Ungstiri's deliverance."

Porter nods to Xavin. "Myself, I'm getting some sleep, while I can. Night, Xavin." He looks over at Staunton. "Still awake?"

Brushtail frowns slightly, raising a browridge at the Colonel. "Sir, is there a diagnosis on the Ungstiri?" Turning, he nods curtly to the Major.

Porter shakes his head. "Not a confident one, as of yet. We want Doctor Ranix to get a look at her. Feel free to visit with her though."

Staunton nods. "Aye, Sir. I something to take care of on the station. Can I borrow Mr. Carazz?"

Porter nods to Staunton. "Certainly."

Porter makes his way toward the crew facilities. "Let Doctor Ranix know I'm expecting a rapid turnaround on comparative diagnoses for Denick and the Ungstiri."

Staunton nods and heads for the cargo hold. "Corporal, you're with me."

Abduction

2009-01-31T19:12:00.001-05:00

A dark chamber with a low ceiling that seems to drip chains that ooze with a greenish-gray slime that issues from small refreshment pores in the ceiling. Arrayed in a formation that suggest a malignant black flower are eight round-edged examination tables that seem designed for just about any manner of life form - complete with restraints. Trays near each table are stacked with ominous-looking implements, bristling with sharp edges and cruel twists. Oval observation monitors glow bluely above the head of each exam table.

The Laboratory door slides closed.

Yama tries to crane his neck to look around, hopefully for signs of a scantily-clad Teel.

Shog slurgs into the chamber, following its cohorts, carrying a metallic rod of some kind as it fixes its reddish-gold eyes on the human.

Nyarla says, "This speshimen has less insulting protrusions than the last."

Kanak sloshes into the chamber first, the squishing sound created by its body rubbing along the thin layer of goo on the floor is almost obscene in nature and resembles the worst type of bodily gas problems imaginable, so much so that it would most likely make a Zangali blush.

Yama gulps deeply, Adam's apple bobbing up and down like sea buoy. He looks queasily at the repulsive insects. He HATES insects.

Behind Shog slurbles Zatoth, its tail wurgling with slimy glee, its heavy-lidded eyes boring hungrily into Yama. "Nnnnnnnngh. Thish one...." It peers as it slimes up to a repulsive table beside the bed that Yama is restrained on.

Shog plucks a skittering beetle off its slimy hide and munches on it, tentacled mouth wriggling malevolently.

Yama frowns, face quickly turning green. "My por-portrusions are just fine, thank you."

Kanak pats its thin fingers against its body with loud slaps. "Thish one should prove better, yesh?" It asks, gliding its way alongside Zatoth to peer down at the restrained human.

Yama looks at Shog aghast, and can take no longer. He lies his head back down.

Shog slurches forward, getting within a few feet of the restrained specimen. "What ish it?"

Nyarla's tentacles writh and twist in anticipation. "I would like to do a compartive shtudy of these dry things anatomy. Thesh two were different.

One of Zatoth's chin-tentacles flibbers, gesturing towards Yama. "Thish shpeshimen. Lesh unhygenic..." The slurgle trails off in a sickly gurgle as Yama's fur arm comes within its greedy gaze. "Thish one'sh arm is shimilar to the other speshimen'sh..." It slides up and taps Yama's arm, dripping massive amount of icky slime onto the fur and Yama's unfortunate clothes.

Nyarla says, "Shome sort of hybrid?"

Gesturing to Yama's mouth, Shog says, "It shpeaks. Shee how well it ish trained by itsh mashtersh."

Yama squawks at both the tactile sensation and the ruining of his attire. "None of your business, that!"

"Gnnnrrgh." Kanak says, leaning over to peer directly down at Yama with its bulbous head and beady eyes, a chin tentacle lightly tracing the texture of his skin while leaving a trail of good in it's wake. "This one ish smooth."

Nyarla says, "Thish one too ish impertinent. Perhapsh this one will sherve for my exshperiments?"

Shog swivels to regard Nyarla. "If your exshperimentsh can be conducted while presherving utmosht Thul shecreshy, then yesh, you may do ash you will."

Yama winces, a sour taste entering his mouth as bile rises. "S'me arms."

"And of mine, anshient?" Kanak asks, looking over towards Shog.

Zatoth angles three tentacles from its slimy, slug-domed head and switches on a sickly-blue light reminiscent of a bad porno show. It peers down at Yama, lowering its flaccid body. Several large bugs, black and skittering, drop onto Yama's chest. The slime of course is now dribbling slowly over him.

Nyarla's tail begins to thump slimily against the ground. "Yes, Great Anshient. It shall be sho."

Yama spasms at the touch of the insects. A sheen of sweat coats his body, and the look of panic isn't going anywhere. Yama asks, hesitantly. "What..wh're you going to do?""

Shog drools slime as it turns eyes toward Kanak, beetles scribbling over the dome of its head and into snapping range of particularly nimble chin tentacles. Between munches, Shog asks, "Can you conduct your exshperimentsh with a minimal amount of permanent damage to the shpeshimen?"

Nyarla says, "When it ish shedated, yesh. I will be gentle. No tracesh will remain."

Zatoth pokes out a pruny digit and thrusts its rather sharp end into Yama's ear. "Thish one hash no earsh like the firsht...curioush. Oh Anshient One, we musht conduct further ekshperiments. Yesh yesh. Shedation for thish one?"

Kanak looks from Shog and then Yama before dipping it's head. "I can try, Anshient." It admits almost sheepishly as a bug jumps from his slime covered back to Zatoth's.

Yama groans. "GET ME OU-". *GLUB*

Zatoth immediately snaps up the bug with a tentacle and shoves it into his mouth, mmmm-ing rather slurgily.

Yama burbles furiously, squirming under the touch.

Shog ponders the human creature. "Mild shedation. I want it conshioush. Local anashthetic only."

Yama shakes his head insistently, mouthing out "Full anesthetic" under the slime.

Nyarla says, "Yesh, Great Anshient."

Kanak glurbs a bit and seeps over to the opposite side of Yama's bed. "Why aneshtetic on thish one and not the one before?" It asks Shog.

Zatoth removes its finger, observing the slime on its nail. "Let the Inquishitorsh ekshperiment, my revered Anshient One. I will prepare the local i'dulhg." Its tail wiggles unpleasantly as a slimish, slurby chortle of sorts shakes its flabby body.

Shog turns its gleaming eyes toward Kanak. "You dare to queshtion the Anshient One!?"

Yama's eyes are wide, and he strains helplessly against the straps.

Nyarla slides silently to the tray of instruments, removing from it a solid-looking tube ending in a sharp barb.

Zatoth chortle-slurbs and, almost merrily, extends a stubby hand of sorts to Nyarla. "Ish it filled, Inquishitor Nyarla?"

Kanak's jaw quivers, tentacles dancing wildly. "Of coursh not Anshient One." It says as it undulates away from the table.

Yama's burbling increases in tempo as Nyarla gets out the large instrument. The slime bubbles slightly.

Nyarla says, "It ish prepared."

Shog glurgs at Kanak. "Shee that you do not. If the inquishitor wishesh to dishcush thish matter further, it can do sho out of the shpeshimen's hearing."

"But Anshient One, the shpeshimen wil - " A long terrified paused from Kanak as it realizes its second mistake and then bows its head in submission. "Understood Anshient One."

Zatoth nnngghs with unholy glee, tentacles dancing and tail wubbling. "Come Inquishitor. Give me the needle."

Nyarla proffers the barbed thing in his stubby hands.

Yama's eyes have been saucers throughout the encounter, and his eyes threaten to roll out of their sockets.

Zatoth slobbers and slombers slime from its wide, flabby and utterly disgusting lips. One wrinkled, stubby hand snatches the needle up and large gleaming eyes begin to peruse Yama's prone form for a likely spot to inject the noxious substance contained within the syringe.

Kanak giggles a bit as it glides up next to Yama's bed again and stares down at him. "We begin, yesh yesh."

Yama works up the courage to say something, post-dip. "Who?"

Zatoth pauses as it swivels a slime-dripping head over to Shog. "Anshient One. A likely shpot?" It gestures with the syringe, waving tentacles and dripping more slime over Yama. By now, the unfortunate is almost covered.

Nyarla says, "Shtab it in the middle bit. With sho much flesh, it is unlikely to be fatal."

Yama waggles his toes frantically. He manages to spit out on the sea of slime, "Organs there!"

Shog grungles. "Yesh. Where Nyarla shuggeshted."

'Organsh there?" Kanak asks to the assembled Inquisitors. "Good. Quicker to the brain it flows."

Nyarla gibbles, "A nishe speshimen, thish one. Yesh...Yesh." Its fingers tap together with an obscene smacking.

Zatoth curls its tail end and positions the needle. "Indeed I obey Anshient One." Without regard for clothes or anything in its way, it casually pokes the needle just above Yama's stomach in a nice soft spot, after prodding a few times experimentally.

Grimaces as the liquid encases his helpless form, this being the first compliment he finds hard to enjoy.

Yama grimaces.

Shog swivels its wrinkled, slimy head toward Zatoth. "Implementor, the future of our racshe reliesh upon you. Sheek within thish creature for that which the Ri'Kammi denied ush. We musht be allowed to rishe again!"

Yama gasps as the blunt instrument pierces his skin, inhaling a mouthful of slime.

Nyarla says, "Yesh, yesh, sheek it."

Zatoth wrinkles down its head in a sort of bob to Shog. "The ekshperiments may prosheed. I will sheek what we need over here. Inquishitors. You may prosheed." It waves the hand with the syringe after it withdraws the needle from Yama's stomach and slimes over to the tray by the bedside.

Kanak dips its head quickly. "Yesh yesh. Sheek it." A pause and its beady eyes focus on Yama. "You are lucky, shpeshimen. You have local u'lugh. I wish to know, will you shcrew your eye sockets closhed ash well?"

Yama sort of just lies there, in too much shock to move anything. He shakes his head dumbly.

Nyarla turns back to the tray, removing from it a delicate looking blade. His mouth tentacles writhe so violently that little bits of slime are flung in either direction.

Shog slithers forward, and pokes Yama with a finger, oozing slime onto the human's exposed shoulder. A black bug skitters down Shog's hand and begins slurping up the slime, tickling Yama as it consumes the oozant. "Why you have two different upper appendagesh?"

Yama gasps at the bug sensation, more than anything else. "Surgical."

"Shurgical?" Kanak inquires further.

Shog wiggles his tentacles, slopping more slime onto Yama and sending the first bug - and a few more that drop onto Yama - into a slurvering frenzy of ooze consumption. "For coshmetic reashonsh?"

Nyarla slimes over to stand at the creature's midsection. Delicately, its free hand trails to tug up Yama's sweater.

Zatoth consumes two green, mouldy-looking fuzzy worms that happen to wiggle onto a tentacle. With nasal churtle-slurbling, it seems to be /humming/ in horrible slurpy fashion as it selects a large twisted and malignant-looking drill.

Yama strains to be heard over the slime's affects. He his voice flows in a stream of words, disassociated from the Bosch scene before him. "No. Cut off. Demarian arms cheapest at the 'doc."

Shog grurgles. "Cheapesht? What ish cheapesht?"

Nyarla , meanwhile, creates an elegant incision in Yama's abdomen, from just above the pantsline to just below the rib cage. A slight trickle of blood immediately begins to well from the line.

"The Demarian armsh, evidently, Anshient One." Kanak says obviously, chin tentacles dancing methodically over Yama's face.

The ancient Thul ponders the human curiously. "Cheapesht ish one who inshtalled thish Demarian arm?"

Yama continues rambling. "Less money. Trade goods, basic of economy and a civilization worth keep-"His eyes wander downwards, and he wishes they hadn't. "Jesus H. Christ guzzling sodapop on a flatbed."

Nyarla turns back to the tray, setting the knife down. As it turns back, a two pairs of wicked looking tongs are in its grasp, one to a hand.

"What ish shoda pop?" inquires the ancient one.

Yama's eyes roll upwards, concentrating very much in attempt to wake up. "liquidrink.cheapestCostsLessAndWasaAllICouldGetOrI'dHaveTwoman-Arms."

Zatoth slurbles to the head of the bed, the drill poised in one pruny-digited hand. A tentacle extends from the quivering mass of others to probe Yama's skull. A large black bug with greenish purple spots drops right onto Yama's nose, all ten legs splayed and grasping.

Shog fluggles, oozing a glistening slime like sap from a wrinkled and ancient tree trunk, and turns toward Nyarla. "Relieve it of the mechanical appendage for shtudy."

The bile comes back with a vengeance at the site of the bug. At the thought of being armless once more, the vomit keeps coming.

Nyarla gently applies the tongs, peeling open the flesh to expose the abdominal cavity. Oddly, there's not a lot of blood-- perhaps the injection had some sort of side effect in this regard.

The bugs become quite excited by the excretion of bilious material by the human. They consider it a...gift. And swarm.

Slurping its way to the medical tray, vomit from Yama's mouth catches Kanak on the area that would be deemed its chest. "Thish is most unlike the previosh shpeshimen." Kanak admits before its tentacles jingle. "It ish burning!" It exclaims. "Acidic!"

Yama squirms for the first time in earnest, trying to break free of the straps. He thrashes his head hysterically, trying to fend off the demon-bugs."

Zatoth finally locates a likely spot, somewhere to the back of Yama's skull. Its wide, bulbous eyes squint through heavy slimy lids at Yama. "Inquishitor Kanak, shecure the shpeshiment pleash. I must drill."

Shog jerks a chain, causing a bucket of slime to overturn from above and dump onto Kanak, soothing the burn. Some of the slime sloshes onto Yama, and causes the bugs to go into an even greater frenzy upon his chest.

A loop of intestine pokes its little head from Yama's abdominal cavity as he thrashes around.

Yama doesn't seem to be capable of more than shaking violently at the moment.

"Ah ah.." Kanak says in relief as the slime washes over it. "Ah..Thankshyou Anshient One." It says before heading for Yama's head and reaching for a restraint to bring across his forehead and safetly secure it to the table.

Nyarla , setting a set of tongs down on Yama's restrained legs, gingerly pokes a slimy finger at the intestine. "Fashinating.

Zatoth nnngghs as part of the slime from the bucket gloops over its tail. An obscene jelly-jiggle follows as it watches Kanak secure Yama's head. "Ahhhh. How shatishfactory Inquishitor." With that, it probes with a tentacle and settles on a spot, setting the drill upon the slime-marked place. With a whirr, the unpleasant device activates.

Yama moans over the vomit as he sees Nyarla's vivisection.

A flurry of beetles begins to march along Yama's chin and neck, consuming bits of sputum and vomit.

"Thish shpeshimen ish indeed a good one. I believe it will releash us from our genetic impreshonment." Kanak's head wobbles quickly from side to side before looking down to focus on the operation to the side of Yama's skull.

Nyarla says, "Shuch shtrangenessh." It extrudes a finger towards the chest cavity, towards the just-visible heart muscle. "Look how thish pulshes.""

A faint shower of eerie bone dust flies into the air as Zatoth wields the drill with fanatic slimitude.

Shog narrows its eyes as it leans over to study the pulsing muscle. "What happensh if we shtop that? It sheemsh shwollen and infected."

Yama screams impuslively. "No!-don't!"

Nyarla says, "The pulshation is sho rhythmic, I shushpect that shtopping it would endanger the shubject."

"But we will not know unlessh we try, Inquishitor." Kanak reminds Nyarla.

Nyarla says, "Yesh, but if we shlay the shubject, we will be shurely dishcovered."

Shog points at the muscle, slime dripping onto it. A bug leaps down into the cavity and begins to cleanse the heart of slime. Tickletickle. "What ish that?" asks Shog of the specimen.

Zatoth halts the drill and withdraws it in yet another cloud of dust. It picks up a long slime covered curved rod of sorts, unpleasantly stained with red, and pokes it into the small cavity left by the drilling. "Bashin!" it slurgles sloopily.

Yama's throat is dry and empty as he sees what Shog is pointing at. "h-heart. t-t-touch n'idie."

Shog ponders this for a moment, then asks: "Could you not get cheapesht replashement?"

"Perhapsh no one caresh about this particular shpeshimen enough to miss his passing or even realize he /is/ missing." Kanak tells Nyarla while its chin tentacles weave back and forth idly, beady eyes focusing on both the operation and his fellow Inquisitor.

Nyarla reaches out, plucking the bug from the heart, beginning to chew with a thoughtful smacking sound.

Yama sputters, mouth raw. "Heart gone, die. Arm gone, live if bleed stop."

Shog glowers slimily in Kanak's direction. "Perhapsh you go to Shanctuary and find out, yesh? We let him live!"

Zatoth eyeballs the debate from its position at the head of the bed. It peers at the pulsating lump of heart. "Thish speshiment ish like one of thosh humanoidsh. The thing musht not shtop, no. Bashin, Inquishitor Kanack!" The last is an unpleasant drooly noise. Another bug hops onto Yama's forehead and begins slurping busily at the slime thereupon.

Suprisingly enough, Yama does not look relieved. His skin has taken on a morbid, grey pallor.

Shog drips slime as he turns his attentin back to Zatoth. "Locate the gland and determine if thish shpeshimen ish of any ushe."

Yama's head drops stock-still as he knows the bugs have pierced his innermost thoughts.

"Bashin, Inquishitor Zatoth!" Kanak responds while sliding around the edge of the table and stopping beside Zatoth to peer at the tube within Yama's head. "Finish the experimentashion before thish one ish notished missing."

Nyarla , meanwhile, begins proding at the stomach gently. "Shomething is shtored here. Yesh, yesh, I shee! An unbroken line between head and tail...Thesh fluids musht be itsh primative intellectual core.

Zatoth slurmles its head in a revolting squishy sort of bow to Shog. "I am attempting shuch, oh Anshient One." It grabs the basin from Kanak and positions it to receive a sluggish flow of squelchy liquid from the hole. Its tail wiggles. "Nnnnnghn. Foooooood."

Yama attempts, quite miserably, to see what's going on.

Nyarla's tentacles wiggle, "What majeshtic beashts." It prods the stray intestinal loop back into the cavity, pausing to pluck up a bug that was nestled beneath it. Popping the insect into its mouth, the Inquisitor retrieves the tongs it had set upon Yama's legs, turning back to the tray.

Kanak heads for the medical tray and snags a small tube with an attached wire. The tube is adorned with dials and switches and seems to humm quietly.

When the flow of liquid has sufficiently filled the slimed up and ominous basin, Zatoth whisks it over to a low tangle of tubes, unpleasantly angled metal and dim blue lights, slurbling and burbling slime in its wake. It tugs down a pair of slimy wires and shoves them into the basin. Its tail suddenly droops as it peers to read the blue-glow of the monitor screen. "Thish one hash not what we need Anshient One..." comes the disconsolate blurgle.

Kanak' tentacles droop. "Another one? Are we looking in the correct part of shpace for our needs? Shurely one of their kind can be usheful."

Nyarla returns the tongs to the tray. It turns back, holding in its hands some sort of blunt, electrical device.

Zatoth wriggles its tentacles in a droopy sort of dance, picking off a green worm and consuming it. Reddish slime squirts as the bug pops gently. "Prepare it, Inquishitor. It ish ushelesh to ush."

Kanak snorgles and slowly advances on Yama with the metal rod and wire aimed towards the hole in the side of his head. "I will prosheed, Inquishitor."

Shog sighs slurpily, ooze creeping out of its mouth into the waiting snicksnackering mandibles of eager beetles. "Then we musht shend it back and sheek another. Inquishitor Kanak, wipe itsh memory of thish examination."

Nyarla begins methodically pinching Yama's flesh back together, running the little device over the cut. The incision is sealed as the device paces, no trace of it visibly remaining.

Zatoth waves a stubby digit to Kanak. "Yesh oh Anshient One. I prosheed ash shoon ash the Inquishitor has finished."

Nyarla reaches the top of the incision, effectively sealing Yama's abdominal cavity. It then tugs the sweater back down. "It ish done."

Kanak slowly inserts the metal wire into Yama's head slowly..

Several spurts of slime descend from the ceiling to shower over all present in a gloopinous, gelatinous stream.

Yama does his best slack-jawed yokel impersonation as his mind is set alight.

Shog slurgles over to a waiting console and pushes forward a lever that causes the table to glow blue and a buzzing sound begins to rise to a crescendo in the chamber. "Advishe me when the time ish right."

Kanak withdraws the tube and wire from Yama's skull and jiggles a bit. "It ish yours, Inquishitor." It says as it slurps back away from the Human.

Nyarla turns back to the tray, depositing upon it the snubby device.

Zatoth taps several tentacles impatiently on its rather soft-domed head. As Kanak slurgles off, it reaches for a grayish plug and slorples over to Yama, plugging the hole.

Shog burbles and begins to draw back on another lever. "Ish all in readinesh?"

Zatoth performs a few more gyrations with a metal tube and a twisted piece of equipment, before slushing off in a trail of slime. The hole may as well not have existed, it's plugged so perfectly. "Clean thish shpeshiment up!" it horlfs at Nyarla slurshily.

Kanak wurbles a bit before slinking backwards in a moonwalk-esque dance to fall alongside Shog. "It wash a good attempt Anshient One."

Shog glubs, drooling slime. "We will find what we sheek. I am confident."

Zatoth consumes several slugs, picking one off the tray of implements. "We will, Anshient Venerable One."

Nyarla is already in the process of detaching two tubes from their holders on the tray, said trays extending upwards into the ceiling. He turns back to the subject, carefully spraying a little blob of goo wherever slime is to be found. He chases the goo with the second tube, which quite efficiently sucks up the goo, the slime, and any other bits of stuff on the subject.

Yama's eyes widen once more in alarm as he sees very strange, random bugs about his disembodied self.

By the end of things, Yama looks spotless and as presentable as when he first was teleported in. More, in fact. Zatoth slurgs in approval, slurping. "Oh Anshient One, wipe itsh mind...." it slurbles respectfully. "And all ish in readinesh."

Shog glowers at Kanak. "Didn't you already wipe it?"

Nyarla sprays the ooze into Yama's horrified face, the clear stuff completely coating him. He follows with the second tube, which sucks and buffs noisily against the man's flesh.

"Itsh mind is already wiped." Kanak says to Zatoth.

Yama beams pleasantly.

Zatoth watches in slurpy approval as Yama's expression turns goofy. "It ish ready Anshient One."

Shog glorgles, then yanks back on the lever, and all the world around Yama becomes enclosed in blue light...

Comorro orders quarantine and plans venting

2009-01-31T09:43:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - A rapidly spreading virus aboard Comorro Station has led the Yaralu to order all refugees - including the prisoner, Norran Lomasa - quarantined aboard outverser ships. The quarantine is necessary before the station's atmosphere can be vented and cleansed of the virus. No infected refugees will be allowed back onto the station until a cure has been found for the illness, whose primary symptom appears to be luminescence.

+Disguise!

2009-01-31T08:26:00.001-05:00

Another fine product of Chalice's code cauldron: The +disguise command.

A player may request an admin to oversee a disguise roll, and if they are successful, the admin will set the level at which the roll succeeded on the player. A tag line will then appear in the IC information of the player's +finger, indicating that there may be something more about the character which an observer can detect. The observer will be instructed that they may request to roll observation, which must beat the original disguise roll's level to be successful.

A player may remove their disguise at any time by using the +disguise/remove command. However, once a disguise is removed, they must ask an admin to officiate a new roll in order to reinstate it.

+Kudos Updated!

2009-01-29T23:25:00.001-05:00

Chalice has been a busy cup! She has updated our +kudos system - originally designed to allow praise points from players to staffers - so that it works as a way of recognizing the out-of-character contributions of both players and staffers.

It still works the same: You type +kudos . In the middle of each month, we'll cycle it. Staffers who get +kudos get a warm and happy feeling for the thanks they've been given. Players, on the other hand, get those +kudos points converted into JTS Faction Points (viewable via the +jtspoints command).

What can you use +kudos for with players? Well, from a staff standpoint, we'll use it to recognize people who do work on the Wiki, keep journals in the forums, promote the game, run events, post logs, contribute to the game's canon, etc. Players can use it for pretty much any reason they feel they can justify. +Kudos to the Kup!

Necromundus RP Notables for January 2009

2009-01-29T23:10:00.000-05:00

Top Roleplayer: Linnael

Superstars: Bennatsuyu * Amanda

Stars: Zariel * Tempest * Shafi * Ravus * Garviel * Nameless One * Alpha * Cephas * Miran * Nodhi * Death * Stormraven * Alexia

OS RP Notables for January 2009

2009-01-29T23:03:00.001-05:00

The votes are in for roleplaying notables on OtherSpace for the first month since our big consolidation and theme reboot.

It is worth noting that we had more +votes cast this time than any other period in the game's history. And, for the first time ever, the top roleplayer got nearly 40 +votes.

Here's the rundown:

Top Roleplayer: Sandrim

Superstars: Tamila * Kestrel * Cathal * Alexandra * Snowstreak * Jest * Mika * Norran * Silvereye * Vadim * Bri * Evanae * Tharsis * Majors * Jaswinder * Alastair * Tiana * Rathenhope * Lucius * Hossomi * Sheppard * Thayndor Zahir * Ruin * Newt * Johiadi * Rian'kamir * Finch * Dean * Lorana * Ace'Kamir * Kit * Eylohta * Loken * Heidi * Naoi * Madeline * Frn'Zxk'Fkg * Sam Gideon * Plumpaw * Ren Arnassis * DS-3633 * Jane * Lildrina * Tirax * Varal * Nixkamich * Krezgick * Aelazia * Evie * Volidana * Vasco * Voreyn Zahir * Raz Blackpaw * Hal'gus * Torlonodae * Sirias * Zuan * Einornesk * Quicksilver * Drae * Milora * Subhan * Dianna * Sarenity * Sinopa * Suns * Epsilon * Cawl * Risan'kamir * Hess * Jared * Anya * Akazar * Eucharius * Duhnen * Athear * Renkek Kashaan * Marisa * Hezekiah * Sanyue * Musashi * Ricky

Stars: Melania * Gwen * Tamzaai * Walters * Haskins * Greenfield * Anatole * Marina * Falcrin * Aesyr'kamir * Dayton * Ambrus * Alistair * Sara * Gore * Lisostapa * Avielosa * Amanda * Robert * Comorro * Gihal * Hal'Faleen * Corey * Stars * Andreo * Bolo * MacNamara * Alin * Morden'kamir * Fridrik * Mitsi * Aldo * Leodhais * Swiftfoot * Justine * Magellan * Taeren'kamir * Grayback * Snowmist

Play OtherSpace via Browser!

2009-01-29T21:14:00.003-05:00

Check out this new browser-based setup we've got through mudgamers.com - it lets you play OtherSpace without client software. Very handy if you've only got browser access!

Refugee to be auctioned as servant

2009-01-24T15:10:00.001-05:00

COMORRO STATION - Norran Lomasa, a refugee taken into custody after a violent confrontation with Lotorians aboard Comorro Station, must make reparations to the Lotorian who lost an arm in the battle.

Comorro has determined that the refugee's brutal attack was unwarranted and that he should be held accountable for replacing Thazzik Bazimal's left arm, as well as compensating the crew of the trader vessel on which Bazimal serves for the income lost due to his injury.

Because the refugee is an outverser without adequate resources to meet the demands of the Lotorians, Comorro will put Lomasa in a crate in the tradeport for an auction to determine who will hold the outverser's indentured servitude contract. Norran Lomasa must work the contract until Bazimal has a new mechanical left arm and the trader vessel's crew is paid off for lost income.

If Lomasa defaults on the contract, he will be absorbed into the station's nutrient matrix.

Aukami: Naming Conventions

2009-01-20T13:42:00.004-05:00

The Aukami have two names: A given name provided by their parents and a surname that reflects their heritage, something descriptive about them, or their chosen career.

Male Given Name Examples:

* Mihal
* Istvar
* Gyorg
* Benedek
* Miklos
* Mat
* Ambrus
* Tamo
* Jano
* Feren
* Martonek
* Jakab
* Andros
* Talos

Female Given Name Examples:

* Katal
* Bara
* Erzseb
* Zofi
* Ade
* Ilonia
* Klara
* Magda
* Pirosia
* Borba
* Agata
* Dolna
* Sina

Surname Examples:

* Gyrjakab (Child of Jakab)
* Hajejjel (Dark-haired)
* Fordul (Round, fat)
* Maga (Tall)
* Halova (Pale)
* Orvo (Doctor)
* Tudom (Scientist)
* Irno (Writer)
* Gazd (Farmer)
* Itik (Politician)
* Kozleg (Soldier)

Dribgib on the loose

2009-01-20T06:28:00.001-05:00

Notice to Kamir Rift Refugees and Comorrites:

Last night we discovered that a group of Demarian kits stowed away several dozen dribgib chicks and eggs onto our vessels. Unfortunately the way that we discovered this was when many of the chicks broke out of their pens and fled across the Docking Hub. Most of the dribgib have been accounted for, but we ask that Kamir Rift Refugees and other station denizens refrain from eating or otherwise harming the birds. If you find a dribgib, please return it to the Demarian enclave in the Docking Hub or the Refugee Enclave in the Commorite Hub.

Though there are not enough of these birds to sustain a full population we hope that with proper husbanding and perhaps a little genetic magic we can begin to build the first alien livestock herds in Hiverspace. It's important that we seize every opportunity, even those given to us by accident.

(A picture of a dribgib is included for identification. Most of the chicks in the image look like runty, bewildered chickens with soft plumage and long necks. Their eyes stare vacantly around them, and a few flap their useless wings in vain.)

~For the Refugee Relief and Development Cooperative, Silvereye Paintedheart

Refugee ships attacked

2009-01-19T17:56:00.001-05:00

Reports of Lotorians trying to dismantle ships known to be owned by Comorro's refugee community are beginning to stack up. Eye witnesses have confirmed that the ships designated as IND Iuppiter Lucetius and the IND Laughing Fox were both hit within two days of each other. It is thought that the two attacks may be related, but details and evidence to this fact have not been revealed at this time.

"Itz zzameful," one Lotorian female can be quoted as saying, "Theze refugeez have done nothing to uzz. Thiz iz nazty buiznezz." Concern over the specist comments noted in earlier reports have raised concern in the community of the possibility of retaliation by these refugees. "Iz hope they will realize, not all Lotorianz act thizz way." A male Lotorian replied when interviewed.

Humans of the refugee community seem to have taken action of their own at this point. Leaflets have been distributed around Comorro announcing the formation of what is being called the Refugee Relief and Development Cooperative. Volunteers are being asked to come forth in order to establish a round the clock watch of the recently established refugee camp and those ships docked on Comorro.

Lotorians attacked in docking hub

2009-01-18T12:09:00.001-05:00

Six Lotorians were earlier attacked and abused by a sentient starship known as Tharsis, which employed sonic weaponry against them, apparently in a defensive pre-emptive strike. Among those that were attacked, was an eight year old Lotorian.

Witnesses suggest that this unprovoked attack occurred, allegedly because the sentient starship Tharsis witnessed an attack on one of the other ships in the Docking Hub earlier. The sound produced by Tharsis is rumored to be extremely high pitched capable of damaging or even rupturing hearing in species with hyper-sensitive hearing.

Tharsis is also rumored to have made a deliberate racial attack against the Lotorian race, by telling them to "Eat sonics," and then calling them, "furry little bastards." The attack quickly ceased, before the specter of the ship vanished and then immediately issued an apology from the ship itself.

-Lisostapa Istaplina

Engineering seminar planned

2009-01-18T12:08:00.001-05:00

"Understanding Yaralu," an upcoming seminar at the site of the refugee enclave in the Comorrite Hub, will detail the engineering and maintenance procedures from the planning stage to installation and routine upkeep, with a focus on engineer and starship safety. The seminar aims to be a helpful tool for those who are handy in engineering but lack the skill sets or experience to conduct work on organic starcraft.

Einornesk Verdikke will be the guest speaker. A Comorrite, his experience covers many aspects of biotechnology, construction, and structural engineering.

A representative of the Refugee Relief and Development Cooperative has stated that all Comorrites and Outversers are welcome to attend the seminar, as part of the ongoing effort to acclimate refugees to their new environment.

Refugee leader announces settlement

2009-01-18T12:07:00.000-05:00

Notice to Kamir Rift Refugees:

I am pleased to announce that our host, Comorro, has graciously agreed to allow refugees to establish a semi-permanent settlement within the residential Comorrite Hub. The negotiation for this space was conducted on behalf of the refugees by a group of interested ship captains and community representatives. We will begin to transition refugee populations located in the Docking Hub to the Comorrite Hub as soon as sufficient amenities have been prepared to support a community. This is not provided as a charity, even if the space is 'rented' by the refugees as a whole. Our aim in building this new community space is not to make Comorro our permanent home. We are here as guests, and the best way to repay the hospitality we have been given is to use it to become productive citizens of this new universe.
Our main goal is to establish some degree of independence. At the moment our greatest weakness is our dependency, and if it is allowed to continue we will be forced to sell our future in order to survive in the short term. We are in the process of building hydroponics systems that will enable us to establish an independent food supply. We will soon have our own space. We have ships with which to conduct trade, and technology to provide us capital. But we cannot be independent, and we cannot take advantage of what opportunities we have, if we do not pull together. Many of you, against your will, have been made idle by this jarring transition. We have among us doctors, engineers, contractors, scientists and others who have nothing to offer but the dignity of their hard work. If our efforts are to succeed we need to coordinate what services we can provide. I am asking for the following:

-Labor to help construct the amenities in the refugee enclave. Any kind of residential construction experience would be desirable, but any pair of strong hands would be useful.

-Doctors to establish a clinic, and inventories of all medicines that we have with us. If we cannot care for the weakest among us we have not yet begun to recover.

-Inventories of all spare technologies, materials and spacefaring vessels that are not fit for deep space service. This is a cooperative, not a coercive, so any materials offered will be on a strict voluntary basis.

-Anything else that you believe would be useful or even necessary.

Some of you might wonder whether or not it is wise to invest so much in a space that all admit is temporary. We are doing more than building private spaces, gardens, and toilets. We are building hope. We are taking the first step towards reclaiming the control of our destiny which was snatched so rudely from us in these past few weeks. For many of you, like me, the first sign of hope you received was the sight of a loved one, or the smile on a face that you thought would never recover from despair. Some of you have only memories to give you strength, while to others a new beginning along is enough to spark the life inside of them. I want to take that spark and feed it, so that soon, no matter from where or when you and your family have come to Comorro, you can look upon what you have done with pride. And, perhaps, when our hosts see what we can do when we are flat on our backs they will rush to see what we can do when we are firm on our feet.

For the Refugee Relief and Development Cooperative,
Silvereye Paintedheart

Sand Mother Memories by Swiftfoot

2009-01-16T14:51:00.001-05:00

This was not exactly how she'd envisioned her next trip to the Sand Mother. In fact, it was not even remotely close. The only thing that was right was the fact that Ace was here with her - and Ace wasn't even here. She was back at the shelter, if you could call it that, resting on the leeward side of a slab of steel from the late Faux's hull. Swiftfoot had no idea how far she'd come, or how long she'd been walking in the pre-dawn twilight. The stench of burnt starship fuel was still heavy in the air, marring the crispness of an early desert morning. Drips and splashes of glass marked her path along the sands where the super-heated fuel had fallen from the sky as the wounded ship plummeted to the planet's surface. As long as she kept track of what direction she came from, finding her way back would never be difficult with a line like that to mark her path.

The ragged, badly injured pilot limped clumsily up the side of a sand dune on three limbs, her broken leg hanging limply. The Demarian was no doctor, of course, but she knew it was broken or at least badly damaged in some way. No matter how easy she went on the damn thing, it stubbornly refused to support her weight. She could always tell when she was starting to get tired, too, because then it started to drag like it was now. That's a hell of a shitty way to know when to head back to the shelter, she thought. When your foot starts to drag. It was almost funny, in a way. Almost. The pain in her belly didn't help either, and she had no idea what was wrong in there. Bone grated against bone - and probably other things to boot - when she moved the wrong way, which was pretty compelling reason not to move the wrong way if she could avoid it.

Searching was always easier early in the morning, after true darkness had faded, but before the twin orbs of the Great Watchers rose over the barren sands of the desert, two hammers to one white-hot anvil during the day. But that time of day is short, and searching in the morning hadn't turned up anything. Both Swiftfoot and her gravely injured tovarisch both needed something to help them survive another day of the Sand Mother's hostility, and so she kept going though every instinct screamed at her to turn back.

The top of the next dune was not far away when she slipped, getting a snout full of sand. She didn't even move for a few moments, and then moved only slowly. She coughed as she tried to inhale, getting a mouthful of grit. Fuck, that's just great. She looked up at the sky, and shook her head. It was getting too warm way too fast for her tastes. I'm no expert, but I know when it's getting dangerous. That much, at least, I remember. I only wish I remembered more. She stumbled again, and this time, merely stared up at the sky for a few moments, unable to even muster enough presence of mind to rise.

Suddenly, she was elsewhere.

***

A crack of light appeared around the door to the smugglers' hold, and the Demarian within froze stiff with fear. She'd been discovered, and after only a matter of hours. Brakir damn it all, Swiftfoot thought to herself, creeping quietly toward the side of the doorway, into the dark corner made by a pair of haphazard stacks of crates. Perhaps she wouldn't be noticed. It was then that the hatch was opened slowly, and she groaned inwardly as she saw what stood there in the doorway waiting for her. The captain of this ship was a Demarian. That did not bode well at all.

His nostrils flared as he scented the air, and his whiskers bristled forward. His ears were flattened back against his head, and he had a firearm of some sort in one paw. He sniffed again, then peered behind the crates, and his light-green eyes locked on hers. Oh, he noticed her, alright.

She turned to flee, trying to dodge around him, but not quickly enough.

There was a feral roar behind her, and suddenly, the weight of the much larger and heavier male pinned her down to the floor on her belly. His claws dug into her back painfully, almost cruelly. Swifty struggled in his grasp, trying to bring her footpaws to bear to push him away, but only succeeded in getting herself even more clawed up as he renewed his grip in the flesh of her back. His breath was hot and rank and ruffled up the fur on the back of her neck. She whimpered and recoiled away from him as best she could.

"What's this? Such a pretty little stowaway..." he murmured in Demarese, trying to nose the side of her face. The gesture was anything but affectionate.

The only answer from the orange-striped female was another whimper and more struggling. For some reason, something was happening on the other side of the hatch, too. Voices - human voices - argued briefly with the captain in Standard. She wasn't sure what they were arguing about. Her mind just wouldn't engage around the words. Suddenly, there was the telltale blue flash of a stun weapon being fired, and the male went limp atop her. She curled up into a ball as he was hauled off of her, closing her eyes tightly and shivering.

***

Skulking little reptiloid forms moved nearby, stalking none too silently among the dead and the dying. The former were efficiently stripped clean of anything that could possibly have value. The latter were killed first. The stink of Nall and the smell of fresh blood - fresh Demarian blood - filled her nostrils, and the anguished cries of those still living reached her ears in her hiding place.

The disturbingly empty eyes of her sister stared at her from no more than twenty yards away, red blood bright against her white fur. Orange and white, a coat all too similar to the one she saw in the mirror every morning, could be seen just past Snowfur. That would be where Father had fallen, the rest of them behind him. He fought to his last trying to give his family time to escape. Mother and Snowfur and Blackpaws and Greeneyes and Shortears, and her new friend Blackwhisker that she had only just met as they boarded the ship... all of them, gone. Just like that. And she'd watched every second of it.

The Nall were swift, and they were merciless. So she hid. She hid with the dead, and she prayed silently to Brakir for deliverance. Two bodies lay atop her in her hiding place, a Bonded pair that had fallen much like her own family had. Their kits lay not far away, all in a heap. The sight of the broken and torn young bodies left Swiftfoot wanting to retch, but all she could do was lie there, frozen in fear. To move is to die. To move is to die, she repeated to herself over and over again in her head. She stayed there, not moving, not thinking, not shedding the guilty tears that wanted so badly to fall. There would be time enough for all of that later. For now, she played dead. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and as the Nall moved away, she drifted off into a light, uneasy doze.

***

"Be safe, Swiftfoot."

Those were his parting words to her, that first time they'd met. She hadn't been, though. She'd been bloody giddy all the way back to the landing pad, hardly paying attention to her surroundings. If someone had tried to rob her in the ruins, she probably would have handed them everything she had and several things she had to steal just for the occasion, all because she was in such a good mood. It was stupid, too, because she hardly knew him. He was a disreputable character at best, an enforcer if the word on the street was to be believed. But then, what are you? she thought. An ex-privateer. Now there's a reputation to be proud of by comparison. A pause, and she snorted, shaking her head. He's older than you by a good bit. He's obviously been around the block a few times. What's his angle? A better question is, do you care what his angle is? He's got an awful nice tail, and he seems to like you an awful lot. Either that, or he's got an angle... Yeah. He's got to have an angle.

He'd even tried to sucker her into a bet. A bad bet. A really bad bet.

But that's just part of his charm.

Charm, my ass.

She fairly skipped up the landing ramp when she got to the ship, ruminations and any possible witnesses notwithstanding. The airlock cycled open obediently as she punched in her passcode, and stayed open while she paused there at the top of the ramp, staring back toward the Warren. I'll probably never see him again, she thought sadly as she turned to enter the ship, the hatch shutting behind her with a hiss of displaced air.

***

An interdimensional gateway swirled like water before the Faux's viewscreens, a shimmering disc of light marring the starfield of the Ra system. It was ringed by a veritable fleet of ships, all in the service of the mysterious man named Savant, but none of them moved to intercept the freighter as she nudged it toward the rift. Her paws trembled with anticipation on the controls, the felinoid watching for the slightest sign of a reaction. It didn't even seem like any of them saw Faux. So maybe I'm not completely and utterly insane, she mused silently, her thoughts wandering just a bit despite the overwhelming need to concentrate - or perhaps because of it. If the voices at the end of the universe tell you the truth when they say that they'll lend a helping hand, then are you still fucking nuts for listening to them? The gate and its retinue of ships drew slowly closer, the pilot nearly holding her breath, and afraid to go too fast lest she break this strange spell that kept the enemy ships from detecting their presence.

And then, the gate was in front of them, its rippling surface taking up the entire front view. The Faux passed through it effortlessly, the ship not even giving any sign that it was passing through a tear in space, and possibly time itself.

***

The felinoid sat up so suddenly that she moved without thinking it through first, and an involuntary yowl of pain escaped her. Damn it all she thought to herself as she shifted again with a wince, be more careful or you'll draw attention to yourself, dumbass. What the Brakir-damned fuck are you doing sleeping out here in the sun, anyway? Idiot. Fucking idiot. Go back now, before you can't go back at all. She sat still for long moments, letting the pain ebb, but knowing she couldn't tarry too long - the Great Watchers rose ever higher in the heavens. As she went to get back up, dreading the trip back, a forepaw dragging with fatigue brushed against something - something cool and most definitely man-made just under the surface of the sand. She started digging with her forepaws, ignoring the lingering old pains and the sharp new ones in her leg and belly. She dug out whatever it was - a high-impact plastic tank of some sort. It didn't look at all like a fuel tank, and was way too small, in any case.

No, she knew this container. She'd seen it before. After some thought, it came to her - this one was from the galley. The label was gone, but this wasn't a container for cleaning supplies, either. No, this was a container for some sort of drink. Whatever liquid that it actually contained, it would be helpful. Demar would provide after all.

She loosened her tattered sash from about her waist and tied one end to the tank. It wasn't heavy under normal circumstances, but these were definitely not normal circumstances. The very thought of trying to either walk on two limbs and carry it with one, or walk upright for that matter, made her wince in pain. Fuck that, she thought. I'll just drag it. I should go slow anyway. The other end of the sash she tied around her waist before beginning the long, tedious crawl back to the camp.

Offspring by Colchek

2009-01-16T14:50:00.001-05:00

Circling for eons around a distant star far from the known worlds, the planet Hygia was often used by local spacefarers as a rest and relaxation stop on their routes. It was a local playground, as it were. Uninhabited, except for various forms of flora and fauna that often entertained visitors. The planet was much like Earth in climate, and quite inviting to a group of travelers who were nearing the end of a long journey. An end which brought with it much sadness, for the end of this journey also marked the end of the journey of a valued friend.

With a last burst from his maneuvering thrusters, Galactix settled into an orbit around Hygia. This was what he had been searching for. The planet was a jewel in space, a place where his crew could start anew after their long trek through the galaxy. It was also a place where he could land for the last time, and prepare himself for the next journey that awaited him, beyond this life. For him, it was not a time to mourn, but a time to rejoice, for at last he would be re-united with his brothers and sisters, lost so long ago in the Great War. He had seen them once before, when Sanctuary had visited the Realm of the Dead ever so briefly, and now he would be with them for eternity.

Despite his positive outlook on the inevitable, his crew did not share his sentiments. Galactix for centuries had been their liberator, their home, and their friend. His loss was not going to be easy for them, and already the haze of despair had settled across the crew as they made final preparations for Galactix to land on the world he had chosen for them. No one was forsaking their duties, but today they went through the motions without their usual sense of purpose.

As Galactix settled into his orbit, he brought his sensors online and routed the images to the display screens on the bridge. He had been scanning the planet for some time as they approached, and he had already picked out the perfect spot. Highlighting an area on an equatorial island continent, he zoomed in and overlaid a silhouette of himself over the flat landscape on the southern side of the island. His bridge crew watched as he did so, knowing what it meant.

“I believe this would be the best orientation.” Galactix said. “Here my body will provide the centerpiece of the new city, and allow room to build around it as the colony expands.”

Rubytail, the current elected leader of the crew, nodded as she watched Galactix select the landing site. The image of the planet, the plans for the city displayed before her, brought the fact that this was the last journey into the forefront of her mind. Fighting back a tear, she nodded her agreement.

Galactix knew the meaning of her silence, for he had known her, and all of the crew, since birth. All of the crew aboard him were descended from those he had rescued in an alternate universe, and he had watched births, and deaths, for the past 1000 years they had travelled. “Do not be saddened, my child. We all knew this day would come in time. These old bolts have travelled many a light year, and my mind isn’t what it used to be. I have earned this rest.”

Rubytail managed a smile, brushing away a tear that had moistened the fur around her eye. “I know, but even with that knowledge, it still pains all of us to lose you.” She settled into the command chair as Galactix began plotting a descent to the colony site. As she did, she glanced towards a nearby scanner and noticed three blips approaching the planet. She knew what they were, and their arrival brightened her spirits a bit. “It seems the children have come back from their explorations.”

Switching one of the display screens to an external view, Galactix focused a sensor array on the approaching contacts, and three old freighters came into focus. “It is about time, children. I was beginning to get worried. Did I not tell you to stay within sensor range?” Galactix’ tone was firm, and he was concerned, but at the same time he just couldn’t stay mad at the three of them. Their curiosity and boundless desire to explore made him a proud father.

The largest of the three piped up. “I’m sorry dad, but I picked up this comet on my sensors and we just had to take a look! It was amazing! It had all kinds of dust jets spewing out as it approached one of the nearby stars. I’ve never seen a comet’s tail that bright before!” Tharsis said excitedly.

Galactix couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ll see many more in your travels, of that I am certain. However, you mustn’t stray too far from me. This region of space is not one I have travelled extensively, and thus there is no way to know what dangers may await us here. Do you understand?”

“Sure dad, we’re sorry. We’ll stick closer next time.” said Alaria, the smallest of the three. “We didn’t mean to worry you.”

“That’s all right. You’re back, you’re safe, and that’s all the matters for the moment. We’ve reached the end of our journey, and we will be setting down soon. You had best stay nearby in orbit until we land; I have made sure there is plenty of room for you to set down as well.” Galactix said.

Rubytail couldn’t help but grin and shake her head as she listened to the exchange. Her thoughts drifted back about 8 years to the day they had first brought his children on line. They were the crew’s ultimate triumph, and their gift to their aging liberator. Each was a copy of Galactix’ core programming, his basic sense of self, and since that time had grown into individuals unique in their own way. They were eager to learn, enthusiastic about what lie ahead, and prone to getting into mischief, but due to Galactix’ firm parenting, and the help of the crew in guiding them, they were for the most part well behaved.

Idly, she wondered, would they remain once Galactix was gone?

The trees around the edges of the landing site swayed in the wind kicked up by Galactix’ massive landing thrusters as he settled into position to touch down on the surface of what the crew had dubbed Hope Island. Nearby, his three children had found their own suitable spots to land and were also setting down. With a mighty whump that shook the entire area, Galactix settled onto his landing gear, which sunk quite a bit in the soft ground of the meadow.

“Gee dad, this place is awfully nice.” said Alaria as she powered down her thrusters. “It’s really warm here.”

“Indeed it is. This will be the perfect spot.” Galactix said as his massive engines powered down for the last time. To this point, Galactix had told his children half-truths about why they had headed to this planet. He desperately wanted them to understand what was to happen, and now the time had finally come that he would have to reveal the finality of this journey.

Tharsis and his younger brother Berseus, the youngest of the three, settled down beside Alaria and their father as the dust began to settle around them. Galactix’ boarding ramp began to lower to the meadow below, settling into place with a soft thump as his crew began to file out into the bright sunshine. Galactix sensed his time was finally near. In his mind, he prepared his final words to his crew and his children as his crew began to set up camp.

The sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon when the crew had finished their labors and settled in for the night. A variety of camp fires had been built around which the crew gathered for a town meeting of sorts which Galactix had called for a few hours earlier. As quiet came across them, Galactix mustered his last bit of strength to address them.

“As many of you already know, my time in this life is about to come to its inevitable conclusion.” Galactix started, prompting a few gasps of disbelief from his children, who immediately began to protest. Galactix kindly shushed them as he continued. “It is true. Like any living thing, I can not live forever. My life has been long, rewarding, filled with triumphs and challenges, and hopefully one that has left its mark on the galaxy. My positronic matrix has functioned well for nearly 550,000 years, but with all the maintenance, all the self-repair systems, all of the technology used upon it during all that time, it has finally reached a point where nothing further can be done.”

Galactix’ voice was already beginning to waver as he continued. “I feel that I only have a few hours at best before my pathways finally collapse, so I wish to say some things while I still have the time. We have suffered great tragedies during our time together. We were hunted relentlessly by the Phyrrians, pursued them to this alternate universe where we were subsequently trapped by the rifts in time in space, joined with the noble Vanguard, and at last set forth on our own journey to make our mark in this new world, free from the Phyrrian tyranny. Our journey has taken us over millions of lightyears, lasted 1000 years, and has culminated on this planet of paradise. It is my final gift to you, my friends and my family, as I will no longer be able to carry you onwards.”

Galactix paused slightly, leaving a silence filled with the weeping of some of his crew, and that of his children, who felt great sadness for this news, even though they had no tears to shed. “My children, I know we have only had a few precious years to spend together, but those years were perhaps the best these tired bolts have ever known in my long life. Each of you carries a part of me inside you, and thus I will be with you always. I have given you knowledge of worlds, peoples, cultures, and celestial sights that will take you a lifetime to visit and explore, for there is still more to learn despite what I have taught you. Although my end is near, I meet it with joy rather than trepidation, for I know that I will live on in you. Know that I am proud of you, as proud as any father can be of his children, and know that your aunts and your uncles who watch over you from the great beyond share that pride, and know the legacy which you have inherited.”

Tharsis was the first to speak, after a long silence. “I… I understand dad. I think, deep down, we knew this time would come, but… we didn’t know it was to come so soon.” he said, pausing slightly to gather this thoughts. “We will carry your memory with us always, dad.”

Alaria spoke up next, sadness in her voice. “As life begins, life must end, as we have seen these past few years.” she said. “Even knowing that path of life, it still saddens me to lose you, father. We will honor your memory with each passing day.”

Berseus, always the silent type, spoke one simple sentence. “I love you, father.”

Tharsis and Alaria shared their agreement to this sentiment, to which Galactix responded. “I love you all, my children.” He paused slightly, and continued in a voice that was a bit weaker. “I feel that my time is drawing nearer. I may not have enough strength to talk any further, so I leave you with these final words. Do not mourn my loss, but instead celebrate our journey, and the beginning of a new world upon which generations of our progeny will work to found a new culture. In this, I find peace, and satisfaction of a job well done.” With his voice fading, he said “Farewell to all of you…” as his vocal synthesizer finally gave out leaving nothing but the sounds of sadness and the crackling of the campfires.

Galactix’ matrix operated for only another 2 hours after his final words, and with a last flicker, shut down for all time as his pathways collapsed one after the other. The next morning, the crew and the children arranged a meeting to decide their future. Rubytail sat at a long table with the bridge crew and officiated the meeting, calling it to order as the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon.

“I am sure we all know now why we are here. Today we will begin to lay the foundation for how we will live our lives here on this newfound planet. We will begin by electing a government to oversee the establishment of our city…” she said as the meeting got underway. Meanwhile, the children of Galactix stood silently by to listen and watch, but between them, they were having their own meeting of sorts, using their private commlinks.

“We can’t just up and leave them without us.” Alaria was protesting, as Tharsis and Berseus discussed plans for striking off on their own. “Whether he implied it or not, father left them in our charge.”

Tharsis had different ideas. “We may be able to stay for a while, Alaria, but I think dad fully intended us to find our own destinies. If he had planned for us to remain here all our lives, why did they place us in these bodies? We have the means to go where we will, to explore like dad did. That, I think is what he intended.”

“I would tend to agree.” Berseus commented. “I do not think our departure intends to be hasty, but I do think it is inevitable. It would be wise to remain and ensure that the colony becomes firmly established, and assist the crew with whatever they may require in terms of planning or transportation.”

“They’ll need supplies; that much is for certain. What dad has on board won’t last long, and certainly won’t build an entire city.” Tharsis said, as the crew voted in favor of leaving Galactix’ body intact as a memorial. “We’ll have to find a source and bring it here so they can build homes.”

“Then it is settled.” said Alaria. “We will help them get established, and then if we choose to leave, then we can. I for one intend to stay for as long as possible.”

“I’m not surprised there sis, but I think we may want to agree on a universal code we can use should we need to find each other again.” Tharsis said. “It’s a big galaxy.”

“Agreed.” said Berseus. “We may want to take some of the long range communication technologies father was working on and adapt them for our purposes. We may be able to devise a method of sending short messages long distances without suffering long delays.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with for that. I’ve got a bunch of blueprints in my memory banks I’ve been working on for stuff along that line.” Tharsis said, as the crew finished electing their leaders and began to adjourn to begin the day. “Berseus, how about you take the first shift on taking a look around this sector to see who’s in the neighborhood. You’re better at diplomacy than we are.”

“I will see to some of the medical needs of the crew in the meantime.” Alaria said. “With dad no longer operating his body, many of the systems will no longer work, and there are a few among them who are nearing birth or have taken ill.”

“A good idea, Alaria. I will begin my search.” said Berseus. “If needed I will call, but I doubt there is anything truly dangerous in this system. Otherwise, we would have detected it on our way here.”

“Allright little bro. Be careful out there, and I’ll keep my comm open.” Tharsis said. “If you need help hauling anything, just give me a ring.”

Berseus lifted off and headed to orbit as the remaining two began their tasks. As Tharsis began his design work, his thoughts drifted to his father’s words the night before, and it was then he decided that he was going to see the worlds his father spoke of in his tales. He would see these worlds called ‘Earth’, and ‘Sivad’, and the home worlds of the many races they had travelled with for so long.

By now, 5 years had passed. Around Galactix’ former body a small city had begun to grow, built with supplies acquired from some of the friendlier races in nearby systems that the children had brought to Hygia, now re-christened Delta Ultunima in homage to Galactix’ home world. The new city, Galactia, was beginning to show signs of life and the bustling activity Galactix had envisioned when he set course for this world those years ago. Life for the former crew was good, and their future was bright.

However, true to the agreement they had made among themselves that day 5 years ago, the children were beginning to plan their own paths through life. For Tharsis and Berseus, that meant heading off to explore the galaxy before them. For Alaria, it meant staying put, at least for the time being. She had become an honorary doctor for the city, and for the moment was serving as its primary hospital.

The crew, especially Rubytail, knew that this time would eventually come. Galactix intended for his children to follow in his footsteps, and to do that they had to head out into the wide expanse of the galaxy. Berseus and Tharsis had agreed to leave together, and then part ways once they had left the system, and so the crew had prepared a small send off party for them on the eve of their departure.

The party was beginning to wind down as Rubytail stood between them. “So, where do you think you’ll go?” she asked.

Tharsis already knew his answer. “I want to see the worlds that dad spoke of in his stories. I know they’re far, but we have many friends along that path we met along our journey, so I’m not worried about supplies or fuel. I want to see it for myself.”

Berseus piped up then. “I really have no destination in mind, but once I start exploring, I figure I’ll set my mind on something.” he said.

Rubytail nodded to them, her expression a mixture of joy for their spreading of their wings, but sadness at their inevitable departure. “Good luck to both of you then. Never forget, you have family here, and should your travels find you this way again, our arms and our hearts will always be open to you.” she said, hiding a hint of a tear in one eye. “Be careful, and do not be so quick to trust those who you meet. Despite the friends we made, there were just as many enemies we met as well all those years.” she offered in warning to them.

“I’ll keep that in mind as I travel.” Tharsis said. “Please, take care of Alaria. I sense that she’s a bit more afraid of what’s out there than we are, but perhaps one day, she’ll feel the longing that we do and explore. Until then, I know she is in capable hands.”

Rubytail nodded. “You have my word on that, Tharsis. May Altheor watch over your travels, and may he one day guide you back home.” she said, her grin moving to a smile as she nodded once more, and headed back to join the party and assist in the cleanup.

Tharsis settled himself in for the night, giving his systems a chance to rest before he put them to work on the journey ahead. As the sounds of the night overtook the party, he settled into a dream-filled sleep…

The next morning, the entire crew had gathered to watch them begin their journey, and they waved as the two ships fired up their engines and began their ascent away from the city. As Galactia grew ever smaller behind them, they both realized that they had taken their first step into a much larger world. They were entering a world without the familiar feeling of family; a world without the familiar presence of their father. The two flew together until they reached the very edge of the system, and it was there they paused to say their goodbyes.

“You take care of yourself, little brother.” Tharsis said. “If you ever need me, just call on that new transmitter I had installed in your console. I’ll come as fast as I can.”

“The same holds for you, brother.” Berseus replied. “I think my first stop is going to be that nebula we passed on the way here. There were some interesting patterns in it I didn’t get a chance to really look at as we flew past.”

“I’ve got a ways to go before my first stop.” Tharsis said. “The Sylenians are about 50 lightyears from here, but I think I can make it. There I can refuel and get a good feel for what lies ahead. It’s been at least 10 years since we were through there.”

“Until the next time, then, brother.” Berseus said. “Our paths will undoubtedly cross again, of that I am sure.”

“We will meet again, little brother. Until then, be good, be careful, and always watch your back.” Tharsis said in reply as he set course and began to throttle up. “The journey begins.” he said as his Spindrive charged up and engaged, sending him off in a flash of white light, as Berseus disappeared in a flash of his own.

The feeling of being on his own for the first time was rather overwhelming for the first few hours, but Tharsis busied himself with a few puzzles and logic problems that helped keep his mind off things as he travelled. He knew it would take him at least 72 hours to reach Sylenia. His ultimate goal, Earth, was years in the distance, but he had planned a few ‘slingshot’ moves around a few stars along his path that he felt should shave a few years off his journey. He knew it was tricky, and his father had nearly collided with one during an attempt several years ago, but he was confident that his speed and small size would be an advantage to him.

He began to idly access some of the records his father had left for him before his passing, and he studied them hard as he travelled along. He wanted to be as prepared as possible for his inevitable arrival at Earth, and at least have a chance of understanding what he was to encounter. In the back of his mind, though, he knew that a long time had passed since then, and even what information he had would be questionable at best. Undaunted, he was dead set on his chosen course, and as his visit to Sylenia came and went, he kept a steady trek towards that distant solar system. No matter what awaited him.

Letters from Home by Arizhel

2009-01-16T14:49:00.000-05:00

Dearest Arizhel,

I heard about the power outage on New Luna. I'm getting worried about you. Please get ahold of me as soon as you can.
-Mom

Dearest Arizhel,

Two days and I've heard nothing from you yet. I'd think you would have gotten off that God-awful backwater planet by now. You always were... resourceful.
-Mom

Dearest Arizhel,

Really, now, you expect me to believe that you still haven't gotten off of New Luna yet? Call your mother, young lady.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

It is quite difficult to escape from a place with no power and no working ships, unfortunately. I am, however, quite flattered at your assessment of my abilities. To be quite honest, the only reason that I did get off the planet is a friend's impeccable timing. I am sorry to have worried you. I assure you that it was not done out of malice, but rather, because of a complete inability to find a solution to the situation.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Apology accepted.

You sound a bit... different. Is everything alright?

Where are you at?
-Mom

Dear Mother,

I am perfectly fine. Is good grammar and precise speech usually an indication that something is wrong? I had heard of no such thing, to be honest, but perhaps it is something to look into. Hm. Ah, as to where I am at, I can be found on La Terre. The friend that picked me up from New Luna has dropped me off with an associate of his. We will be going into the wilderness to better avoid the Phyrrian threat. I will not be reachable by commlink or PDA, at least not directly, but do not worry. I will not lose touch again, though my response time will likely be very slow. I will simply need to make arrangements to have messages delivered and picked up.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Why don't you just come stay with me? Sivad is safe. I don't like the idea of you running off into the wilds. There's all sorts of lunatics living out there. Just think about it, okay? I know we don't always get along, but I'm still your mother. I still worry about you.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Thank you for your concern. I will be fine. Staying with you is an unnecessary burden on you, and would present problems because of Tiana and Rillitan. I will not be alone, as they are going with me. The group numbers about five hundred now, more than enough to deal with common criminals or trespassers.

After today, messages will get to me sporadically at best. I will take care of myself. Try not to worry overmuch about me.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Well, at least you will have friends with you. Tiana - is that the Martian girl you told me about? It's a bit unnatural if you ask me, for a Martian to be taking up with a Timonae like that. I guess there's no accounting for taste.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Rillitan is actually rather peculiar as Timonae go - he is not so flighty as most. In any case, I think they make a rather fetching couple. A bit odd, yes, but still, they obviously care about each other very much.

Ah, there is the transport now. I will stay in touch.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

See that you do. Your mother worries about you.
-Mom

Dearest Arizhel,

I know that you said it would be sporadic contact, but two weeks seems excessive. I can't just sit around knowing my only daughter is off in some trackless wilderness full of crazy people and convicts and God knows what else. Write back as soon as you get this.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

My apologies for the delay. It took longer than anticipated to get settled in. We are quite far from any sort of major settlement, but supplies do come in regularly. Myself and Tiana have been put to work in the kitchens, both cooking and procuring food. It keeps us busy a good portion of the day. Some of the rest of our time is spent in target practice or physical training, and I myself have been spending any spare time I can find at the med tents. If war is indeed upon us, then I mayaswell learn to be useful.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Target pratice? Physical training? It sounds as if this is an army in the making more than anything else. My heart aches to think of you doing such menial things. You were meant for so much more than that. We both know it.

Do you even have any instruments with you?
-Mom

Dear Mother,

The entire point of the target practice and such is survival. I do not wish to be useless should an attack actually come about. The practice and the training are both largely voluntary, in any case.

I will be in New Paris on Tuesday if you wish to meet at the Bluenose for lunch. I know it is not up to your usual standards, but thought it might be nice anyway.

I have access to an acoustic guitar, to answer your question. It is shared. I do not have my own because, by necessity, we had to travel light.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

It pains me to know that your real skills are going to waste like that while you do all of these menial little tasks fit for a Specialist.

Speaking of, are you still insisting on seeing that Lunite boy? He's far too young for you, you know, as if him being Specialist-derived wasn't bad enough in and of itself. Well, anyway, I'm only asking because you haven't mentioned him in quite some time. I thought perhaps you'd actually come to your senses. Unfortunately, I am busy Tuesday, but perhaps next time you are anywhere civilized, we can meet.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

"That Lunite boy" is in the Vanguard, and we have not seen each other since some time before I left New Luna. We maintain sporadic contact, and are on friendly terms. It is too bad about your being busy the last time I was in New Paris. Next time I know in advance, I will inform you again.

You will be pleased to know that we are moving to a more 'civilized' location very soon now. There is even a small village nearby, though it is still out of comms range of New Paris. Our encampment numbers about twenty-five hundred now, so there are many to provide for. At least there is plenty of help to be had.

There is another Terran here. I find him very interesting, actually. He speaks not only Spanish, but several other Terran languages. I am grateful, if nothing else, to sharpen my language skills. Precious few people speak Spanish anymore. It is good to hear it spoken by someone other than myself.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

You’re making your old mother jealous. You can manage to find suitable prospects even in the middle of nowhere. I keep hoping you’ll come to your senses and find someone that’s worth your while and quit this nonsense about carrying on with Lunites and, God forbid, Timonae. I thought you’d thought better of it when I heard a little rumor about you and Andrew Long, but it seems like you’ve let that slip between your fingers. Silly, silly girl.

When can I see you? You don’t get away from that camp nearly often enough, and you don’t write as often as I’d like.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

He is someone else’s fiancee. I am quite certain that she would be very upset with me were I even to attempt such a thing. As for Andrew, there was an understanding there from the very beginning – that relationship was never permanent, nor meant to be anything other than casual. He is, in fact, the one that put me in contact with Ms. Withern.

We are closer to New Paris now, and so messages should be a bit more regular. It is also easier to find reasons to be away from the camp. Perhaps we can meet sometime soon. Actually, I will be on Sivad next Wednesday on business. Perhaps we could get together then, after my meeting.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

When has that ever stopped you?

Ah, another casual relationship. When are you going to settle down and give me some grandchildren? Human grandchildren, I mean.

I would very much like to see you, but am going to be away next Wednesday, unfortunately. Will you be coming back again sometime soon? I can try to reschedule my engagement, but it’s highly doubtful that I could push things back without some bruised egos. You know how men get about that sort of thing.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Please do not put yourself out on my account. I am sure that I can invent a reason to visit Sivad again. Barring that, there is always New Paris.

If you need to reach me early next week, I will be spending several days at the Outlook Club with Diri. A few days of sleeping in a real bed should be refreshing, and I find myself quite looking forward to spending some time with him. It has been rather lonely here at the camp – actually, it has been rather lonely in general for quite some time now.

Before you jump to any conclusions, I do not know where things stand between us. We have kept up contact and are on friendly terms, yes, but that means little. I am not certain that I want to keep up a relationship with him, or vice versa. There are things that would need to change on both sides of things, I think.

In any case, I will let you know next time I will be on Sivad.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

There’s no need to rub my nose in it.

You’ve always been so damnably stubborn. Just like your father. And mean, just like your mother. At least you get it honestly, I suppose.

Do see that you let me know well in advance. Then I can make sure I don’t have any prior engagements that interfere.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

I did not mean to rub your nose in it. If I had, I would have been considerably crueler than I was. I was simply letting you know where I would be.

And yes, at least I get it honestly.

G’ahnlo was lovely, as always. The Outlook Club has long been one of my favorite places to stay, despite the one unfortunate incident I had there. It was an isolated thing, after all, and in no way the fault of the management or the staff. We stayed there for several days, all of them quite enjoyable. He was kind enough to split the bill with me, despite my insistence to the contrary.

I am thinking of joining him on Hancock Station, if they will have me.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

I would still much rather you came home. I’ll… well, as much as I hesitate to do this, I’ll even help you find an apartment for your Lunite.

Carlos still asks about you, you know. All the time. He’s been seeing some Sivadian girl, though. You’ll lose your chance at him if you don’t watch out. He’s a good Terran boy with a good family. Think about it for your poor old mother’s sake, would you?
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Carlos and I have been nothing more than friends and occasional social companions for some time now, despite his attempts to the contrary. I do not foresee that changing anytime soon.

I will not be allowed to join Diri aboard the station, unfortunately, as they think I am some sort of spy. How preposterously cliched can you possibly get? In any case, he has decided to join me.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

I’m not certain that I even want to ask how you’re going to pull that off. How could he possibly leave military service during a war? I only have one possible answer to that, and I seriously hope you aren’t acting that rashly.

If that’s what you’re doing, I hope you know that you’re letting yourself in for a world of trouble. I’m not going to talk about this any more. Not like this.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Fair enough. Diri has joined me on La Terre. That is all anyone needs to know.

I do know what we have let ourselves in for, and I have weighed that against my loneliness. The loneliness won out, in the end. In any case, we may be moving on soon, as it seems as if perhaps we have overstayed our welcome here on La Terre. Things have been quite tense for some time now. Perhaps it is time for yet another move – I have been restless for awhile now, anyway.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

If you do decide to leave, I hope you consider Sivad. My offer to find an apartment for your Lunite still stands, against my better judgement.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

I am pained to hear that he would not be welcome in your house, though I suppose I cannot blame you for that. It is just a shame, really. We have indeed found it necessary to leave La Terre. I will be in touch as soon as we get settled somewhere new.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Where did you go? It’s been a couple of weeks now since I heard from you. Are you trying to give your poor old mother a heart attack?
-Mom

Dear Mother,

It is best that you did not know where we are. Then, if you are asked, it will not be necessary for you to lie. Know that we are safe, and that we are with friends. Sending messages should be near-instantaneous now, as we are at least in a civilized location.

You always did have a flair for the dramatic, mother. You are hardly in any condition that would suggest you would have a heart attack simply from not hearing from me for several days. Circumstances have forced us into a second move very soon after the first, and so, I have not been properly settled in just yet. As soon as I am, I will come to visit.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

I would very much like that. There is a formal dinner coming up in several weeks to celebrate someone or other’s retirement from the University. His name escapes me at the moment. Unfortunately, you would be my guest, so your Lunite would be unable to attend with you. Come by and pick up a couple of your nice dresses. On a Thursday, if you would, in the evening. I am usually home then.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

I will certainly do that. This Thursday, I think.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

It was wonderful to see you again, even though you’ve gone as skinny as a half-starved alley cat. What have you been doing to yourself? There’s no curves left to you, girl – not many men go for that lean look anymore, you know. You’ll probably have to have those dresses taken in a few inches.

Doesn’t your Lunite boy feed you at all?

And God, what did you do to your hair? I hate it. It makes you look like a cheap hooker. At least dye it black again to be seen in public with your poor old mother, would you?
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Diri seems to like me the way that I am. Of course, he liked me before, too. I don’t think he can help himself, actually.

Having the dresses taken in should not be an issue.

As far as him attending, I am not so certain he would want to anyway. No doubt you would spend the evening either sniping at him or ignoring him completely. I know you all too well, mother, so denying it is pointless. I do not believe that you have liked any of the men in my life since Carlos, now that I think about it. You really ought to meet him. He has proven to be quite trainable, and is much more attentive these days.
-Rish

Dearest Arizhel,

Of course he does. He knows that you’re settling and that he’s getting a woman that’s far too good for him. It’s no wonder at all that he worships you.
-Mom

Dear Mother,

Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?

In any case, I refuse to be drawn into a petty argument. We simply do not agree, and I am willing to accept that.

I will see you on the 29th.
-Rish

The Disappearance of John Christian Falkenberg by Falkenberg

2009-01-16T14:48:00.000-05:00

In December of 3003, John Christian Falkenberg disappeared aboard Comorro Station in Hiverspace, while taking part in an expedition to find a way to defeat Grim, his former employer and all-powerful agent of the Kamir. His ship, the IND Hand of Fate, docked at Comorro to refuel while the rest of the expedition went on to their next destination. Without notifying his crew, Falkenberg went aboard Comorro, a place where members of the expedition had already stirred up considerable trouble in recent weeks, and disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again (so far, at least.) The following is the first installment of the story of his disappearance, and what happened after.

Author’s Note: These events are set toward the end of the original, or “classic” Otherspace Arc XVII, the final arc before the New Journeys era. Events, worlds, races and characters who find mention in this story and the coming installments are represented as they were at that time, in the year 3003 and early 3004 of the Otherspace universe (2003-2004 RL). The entire story is set in Hiverspace, where Sanctuary had journeyed during the original Arcs VI and VII and where parts of several subsequent story arcs unfolded after the opening of the multiverse nexus; at the time, the races, events, locations and political situations in Hiverspace were not very well developed as part of the Otherspace canon. In order to tell the story I wish to tell, I’ve taken certain liberties to flesh elements of Hiverspace out, particularly regarding the races and worlds that were encountered by Sanctuary; I may at times in the coming installments need to create locations, worlds or races that have never come into the story of Otherspace, though I will try to keep that to a minimum. Anything that appears in this story that contradicts canonical events on Otherspace since 3003 are solely the result of the author’s ignorance.

Darkness.
Cold.
Something hard against his face.
Then pain… a blinding surge of pain in his head that seemed to come out of nowhere. Gradually, it faded to a dull ache.
Slowly, John Christian Falkenberg opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the floor. A very small part of the floor, right in front of his face. At first he couldn’t tell what it was, but as his senses returned to him slowly, Falkenberg became aware that he was lying face down on the floor in a dimly lit room of some sort. The cold feeling against his face was the steel of the deckplate pressed against his cheek. A small puddle of drool had collected below his mouth.
With an effort, he pushed up off the floor and rose to a sitting position. His muscles didn’t seem to work correctly; it was as though his arms and legs were asleep. His head hurt.
Where the hell am I, he thought at last. He struggled to remember what had happened. The thoughts came slowly; his brain, like his limbs, did not seem to be working at full capacity.

I was… at the bar…on Comorro Station. We had just returned from Pansheera… Was he still on Comorro? The room he was in was small and dimly lit, with a dank, dirty smell. It looked very much like a cell. Certainly it was possible that he was in a cell on Comorro. After all, it’s not like we made friends here the last time, he thought. It was probably stupid to come back so soon and go to the bar for a drink by himself.

As his natural self-awareness returned to him, he noticed a deep, subsonic vibration rising up through the deck. Falkenberg had lived most of his adult life aboard various starships and spacegoing vessels; he knew the thrum of an engine when he felt it. Definitely not Comorro, he thought. The station’s power plant had a slow and steady hum. What he felt now was the rhythmic pulsing of a ship that was underway.

Ok, I’m on a ship. Now focus…how did I get here, and what happened to me? He was still struggling to get his arms and legs to obey his commands. He did not dare to try and stand; it seemed that whatever had knocked him out was wearing off slowly, from the top of his body downward. There was some strength and sensation in his arms, but his legs could only make broad, clumsy movements. He had no doubt that he lacked the strength to stand.

Gradually, he was able to piece together his last clear memories from… last night? Yesterday? How long had he been here? His wrist chrono was gone; it could have been hours, it could have been days. Belatedly, he thought to check for his weapons and his commlink; both were gone. No real surprise there.

He remembered being at the bar. He had left his ship, the IND Hand of Fate, late at night after making a refueling stop at Comorro on the way from Pansheera to the next stage of their journey. The other ships of the expedition had gone on ahead of him, but they’d wait; the Fate was the most powerful ship of the bunch and would be needed if there was trouble. His own crew was asleep, but he was bored and wanted a drink. He could handle himself if there was trouble…or so he thought.

He had been at the bar for a little while when he caught a brief flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye. He had turned toward the door slowly, the casual move of a bar patron waiting for a friend or associate to arrive…and he briefly caught sight of a grey-robed figure…it looked almost like a… no, that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would one of them be here? Whatever he had seen, he thought, probably had nothing to do with himself. The place was fairly crowded tonight. Still, he had turned back to the bar and casually loosened his pistol in its holster.

After a few more sips of his drink, he had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, some movement again, definitely in his direction. More than one of them, he remembered thinking, whoever they are, and whatever they want. Well, if they want to dance…He began to ease his pulse assault pistol from the holster, and prepared to turn…

And then it happened.

A loud buzzing or humming sound. Then a sudden burst of pain. Then…darkness.

The next thing he remembered was the cold sensation of the deckplate against his face, in this room, this cell, aboard some ship, headed who-knows-where.

Someone got the drop on him.

They must have been looking for me, he thought, and then his heart skipped a beat as a genuinely frightening realization dawned on him. Grim! He thought. Is it possible he set a trap for me, all the way out here? Damn, I’m a fool for letting this happen!

He hadn’t been caught off guard like this in years. Was he really getting that sloppy? Somehow, they’d hit him with some sort of stun weapon, right before he made his move. He knew they were there…but somehow they had moved faster than him. Had known he was on to them.

Who the hell were they? What did they want? If it wasn’t Grim, was it one of the factions on Comorro whom the expedition had angered in recovering the first crystal? Or was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time, having failed to realize how dangerous a place he was in, like the damn fools who walked down dark alleys in Shadowheart back home, never to be heard from again?

He had no way of knowing. All he had were questions. He hated questions, and he hated waiting. He wanted answers.

At that exact moment, the door to his cell slid open, and in stepped the last thing he expected.

“Welcome, Captain Falkenberg,” said the deep, sonorous voice of the Shohobian Mystic who now stood before him, “aboard the IND Crimson Star.”

Absit Omen by Aadzrian

2009-01-16T13:10:00.000-05:00

Even to a soldier, blood could be a heady thing.

Aadzrian had never really had a problem with it; then again, never before had it assaulted every sense of his with its sheer, unfathomable size. There could not be this much of it in the universe, never in one place. Reason said that blood could not exist within a floor of blood, walls of blood, a ceiling of blood- underneath it there had to be something- but reason wasn't acquainted with the peculiar stench. It tickled the nostrils the way a barbed wire whip tickled your back.

He realized distantly that he was going to be sick, not from sight or smell or from the taste (taste, he had nearly forgotten taste) of it all, but simply from the realization that there was nothing else. A featureless landscape of blood that inner knowledge told him stretched from here to forever.

And then, abruptly, the vision ended.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, not since that day where he'd idiotically agreed to look at his own future to sate someone's curiosity- he could no longer remember who. Had it been Franceza? Well, he couldn't ask her about it; he couldn't speak to the real Franceza trapped within her incomprehending eyes. Those whom he loved were fast becoming memories.

"Shut up, you self-pitying –git-," the Timonae told himself aloud, voice thick and groggy with sleep. Ah, this time it had been a dream. Tirax stirred beside him, but didn't wake for once, and absently he reached over to brush back the younger man's hair. There was no reason to wallow in angst, considering how lucky he was. Hadn't he known what his future would hold anyway?

Quietly, Aadzrian swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Slow, deliberate movements wouldn't wake Tir, he'd discovered, if he was very careful about them. Stealing a glance to either side of the Fox's crew quarters- dead quiet, at this early morning hour- he reached into his bunk's cabinets.

There it was, a battered (well, he preferred well-loved) book on human anatomy. It was old, but the man he'd bought it from reassured him that humans hadn't changed that much in the last 25 years, so he'd read it with confidence. Or tried, at least; it proved a torturous reminder of why he had ended up a soldier. He had no brains to speak of for anything else.

After three or four pages the Terran started swimming before his eyes, and frequent dictionary consultation slowed him down even further. After a couple weeks he was sixty pages into the five hundred, and each was a battle. He wanted to weep in frustration at the knowledge that this was the simplest and most basic thing on his list of books, a book on a subject he was already even familiar with. But resorting to Timonese books would just prove he lacked the skill to master a second language, let alone put the information he was slowly learning to any use.

"Doctors have to deal with a lot of blood, right?" he whispered to himself, appreciating the self-reassurance even when he knew how foolish it was. You couldn't become a doctor just by reading, no matter how many books you read. And he didn't want to try learning by –doing- when he might only hurt people worse.

He was being selfish. -Nobody- really wanted to fight forever, but someone had to do it. He knew the necessity, knew that some people could be stopped by absolutely nothing else. And he had a talent for killing, a stomach that could stand what had to be done, and enough control over himself to realize (these days) when the last resort was. He was absolutely ideal for what he was doing; pursuing dangerous jobs, fighting when he had to, trying diplomacy first.

But he'd had enough of hurting others already, and the thought of a lifetime of it was making him weary. He wanted to fix, to repair, to mend, to heal.

The words on the page were incomprehensible now to his tired mind, looking like scribbles as much as actual letters. Aadzrian closed his eyes, and smiled faintly to himself. If he'd been born smart, maybe he would have become a great doctor like Snowstreak. And if pigs had wings, getting pork tenderloins for last night's dinner would have been a lot harder. He would be content; after all, he was strong and young, he had friends and lovers and Tirax most of all, and he was doing good in the way he was suited for. Maza had not touched his life more than Lin, in the end.

It was later than he'd thought, he realized when his eyes opened again- or perhaps he'd fallen asleep sitting up, craned over the dog-eared tome. With noon threatening in an hour or two, he tucked the book away and softly kissed his still-sleeping better half. A quick note advertising his destination, and he slipped away to wriggle into the undersuit of his MCA- no, Ace's MCA, really- for its ventilated coolness. A good number of waterskins, fastened about his waist, and a billowing cloak to shade him from the sun. A pack with rations and more water, and the Timonae set off.

The trip to the Faux's ruins out in the Demarian desert wasn't so bad with the aid of a guide, as it was hard to miss these days. He'd made the journey more than once, and though it was always risky to visit the Sand Mother, he'd made it there and back with no permanent harm done. The shuttle flight lulled him to a brief nap once more, but when it landed he felt refreshed and energetic. Smiling simply because he could, Aadzrian crossed the landing pad and felt the cool of the early night air. He hadn't overslept -too- much, it seemed.

His usual guide was nowhere to be found, and few people seemed interested in leading a Timonae out into the Sand Mother on vaguely stated purposes, but at last he encountered a scruffy kit who knew the place and would do it for a meal before and after. They shared a haunch of roast dribgib, smelling divine, and Aadzrian smiled wider at the sight of how much his young companion enjoyed the meal. It was almost as good as tasting it himself, since he'd grown accustomed to his brain's vagaries. Damage to... some nerve or another. Some doctor he would have been, huh? He couldn't even remember his own old injuries.

The silence between himself and his young guide seemed companionable as they went to rent a small ship, just big enough to carry themselves and a sand buggy to the approximate location. Evidently some of the local pilots had grown superstitious about flying over the crash site; an hour out by buggy would do for him, however. A bit of haggling and it was done, the soft whirr of the engines accompanying them out over the sands. The silence continued, and Aadzrian thought perhaps it was growing strained, but his guide stared out the window with single-minded eyes. Just when he ached to say something, anything for the simple sound of voices, their shuttle began to descend.

Fifteen more minutes- how much of life is spent waiting? Less of his, perhaps, than most people's- and they were rumbling through the sands. He was a fairly terrible driver and he knew it, but his nameless young friend couldn't drive and navigate at the same time, and so they put up with his overcorrecting steering and the shower of sand that cascaded over the vehicle from the tires. After a while he settled into a rhythm that almost made his turn behind the wheel palatable, and definitely made the sudden looming of the hill on the horizon a surprise.

"Te Faux," he told his still-silent guide as they climbed toward it. "Te bes' ship t'ere was in te uny-verse, at leas' to me. Te people who help me and ask not'ing in return. I do no t'inked I payed t'em back very wel. But ah, I has tried, and per-haps t'at counting for somet'ing, huh?"

No answer, but Aadzrian shrugged it off. He was fairly used to the bemused silence of people who thought he didn't make any sense, and he couldn't really blame them for it.

The two halted about ten feet from the spaceship, and the Timonae stood there quietly gazing. It was hard to believe anyone had survived the ride in that cradle of twisted metal, let alone everyone, but he knew whom to thank. His debt to her had really just risen over the months since he'd been freed. It seemed she probably wasn't coming back, this time, and again he mentally reviewed everything- anything he could have done differently- perhaps words he hadn't known how to say-

He was so distracted with that repetitive silent litany of shortcomings that he failed to hear his guide softly sneaking up behind, and the discharge of the stun gun directly into his back came as a complete surprise.

In unconsciousness, he dreamed for once of nothing.

But slowly, creeping in through his ears and fingertips, sensation slunk back in. The line between slumber and awareness eroded under the stealthy assault of things distantly perceived; the jolting feel of the ride (smoother than when he had driven), the low moan of the engine, a distant louder echo of more powerful machines. The impression of motion abruptly stopped, and after a moment Aadzrian perceived with dumb confusion that he was now lying down. Grit- sand. He was lying in the sand.

"Sorry," a voice said, and then the buggy's chugging motor retreated into the distance.

Tentatively, the Timonae opened his eyes. It was pitch-dark night now, probably nearing midnight. He was sheltered between two dunes, two completely unfamiliar dunes, presumably somewhere between New Alhira and the Faux. And his head felt as if someone had stuffed it full of cotton, then thrown him underwater- everything distorted, slow.

Slowly he sat up and checked his pockets. His wallet was still there with all his photos of everyone, thank Lin; the money was missing, but he hadn't had too much on him anyway. His PDA was also gone, which was a sore irritant. So much for calling someone for a ride. Well, he still had two feet, and he could climb onto them pretty easily, dust himself off and take stock of his surroundings.

Featureless desert, as far as he could tell. Luckily, the kit had been more after money than sadism, and had left him his compass. If he wasn't too far out, he could probably walk it. So first he knelt, closing his eyes, and softly entreated, "Lady, please weave me a path between these dangers, shielded from your sister's gaze." There was one single credchip left in one of his many pockets, and he flipped it into the air, burying it where it landed by way of small tribute.

Only then did he rise and pull out the compass, consulting it carefully. Angling himself to face New Alhira and taking a drink to wash the sand from his mouth, he set off walking.

The first hour or so was fairly pleasant. The night was clear and dry, and comfortably cool without the blazing twin suns to fry him. He set a quick pace, and covered enough ground that his footsteps disappeared in his wake as he crested a dune, and the next, and the next. But the sand tugged at his boots, trying to claim his feet, and the monotony began to grow tiresome.

Still, he walked. He walked, and walked, and walked. Only the nascent soreness in his limbs told him he'd made any progress at all; that and the fact that the mountains did loom nearer on the horizon. But he wasn't prone to giving up, and so he kept walking even as dawn began to streak the sky.

The soft light of the rising suns cast an orange-pink glow over the sands, and Aadzrian halted in his tracks. The featureless sea of sand, tinged faintly magenta, was luridly suggestive of that vision that dogged him so often lately. "The future can be changed," he said softly aloud to himself, surveying the sand. "I decide my own path."

Yet even knowing the flaws and failures of his second sight, he doubted his own words. He could never be content with a life that didn't have a purpose beyond his own gratification. He'd thought long and hard on it, ever since he was freed from Tomin Kora. And always his conclusion was the same: he had no special talents beyond entertaining and fighting. When would he accept who and what he was?

Shaking his head firmly, he set off again. Thoughts whirled in his brain, irritation at himself, annoyance with his guide- he tried to suppress it, after all the kit was hungry- and the befuddled wistful voice that whispered to him lately that maybe he really should go back to school and give it another try. None of that mattered half as much as actually getting back to New Alhira in one piece, and he couldn't allow his vigilance to lapse.

Still it seemed impossible to fully concentrate, with the blankness of wide empty sands spreading out in every direction. He had no real idea where he ws. Had Razor walked this way, some number of years before, intent on proving himself? Had Tirax, looking for him, laid down in the shadow of one of these dunes for a moment to write those messages?

"You are betraying the crew. You are betraying Ace. You are betraying me. I will shoot to kill if I have to."

He didn't need his PDA to remember that phrase. Even though they'd taken him back, forgiven him every time, he knew he hadn't been much good for the Faux. Maybe it was for the best if Ace didn't come back, if she took the Fox and left. For a moment, he let himself think that it might be for the best if he stopped walking, too. But reason quickly interceded, and with a snort he moved on.

After a while, the sun's continued progress upward began to soak him in sweat. He found himself pausing to drink often, the weight of his waterskins noticeably lessening. Everything was blinding, the twin suns drowning him in heat and light. Still, he followed his compass, only stopping for any length of time when his belly demanded it. His supplies might last him another full day of walking, if he was careful with the water.

But it seemed that wouldn't be necessary, as the mountains were looming closer and closer in the slanting afternoon light. The kit must have driven him much of the way back, perhaps wanting to give him a fighting chance to make it out. It was a small kindness he could appreciate. Relaxing as he realized safety was probably about another hour or two away, he slowed down and let himself walk at a more comfortable speed.

It was while he was sauntering the last quarter-mile or so up to that trail in the hills that he heard the rumbling. Slowly he turned his head back over his shoulder, reluctantly confirming- yes, that was the sound of desert bumbler hooves; yes, there were quite a few of them; yes, the sound was the polyphony of the whole herd charging in a panicked stampede his way.

Aadzrian ran. All thought disappeared into the rhythm, one foot, then the other, eating as much ground as they could between them. His head start seemed to be slowly eroding, the ominous thunder of their hooves waxing exponentially behind him. He felt as if he was breathing fire instead of air, waterskins jangling harshly at his waist, half full- half empty? Whatever- sand treacherous under his feet. If he could just get up into the hilly path, narrow and steep...

But the world was submerged in sound, the ground vibrating under his feet, and he felt a moment's bemusement at the thought he should die to a herd of panicked cows. Perhaps that was all he needed- he couldn't tell if it was desperation or sheer indignation that lent a sudden fleetness to his feet. Up ahead were the foothills- he probably didn't have time to make up so high the slope would dissuade them.

So instead, he put all his trust in Lin, and using his long running start, he leapt.

His long fingers closed around a low branch of one of the hardy, gnarled trees that grew here on the very edges of the desert. Frantically the Timonae scrambled up, higher and higher, and clung to the trunk itself like a panicked cat. He had only enough time to ensure he was firmly wrapped around the tree when the wave of bovine flesh hit.

It was an unholy cacophony of thudding hooves, shifting sand, and terrified, braying moos. The bumblers were intelligent enough to try and avoid the trees, but the sheer press of numbers meant his perch received more than one shuddering blow. Aadzrian hung on in quiet desperation, feeling the trunk wobble and hearing the crisp cracking of shattering wood with every collision.

But every river runs to an end, and living rivers sooner than most. Even if it felt like an eternity, Aadzrian knew it took them only bare minutes to pass onward into the hills, scattering where narrow trails wouldn't permit the mass stampede. He saw no sign of what was chasing them.

He shifted, just slightly, and felt the tree teeter with even that minor displacement of weight. Very slowly, the Timonae looked down. The trunk had been nearly bashed to splinters, but from several sides- that equality was all that kept it balanced. Any redistribution of his weight, counterbalancing the most damaged angle through sheer serendipity, might bring his perch crashing down.

"...Aaah, crap."

Hardly daring to breathe, he began to wiggle downward. Inch by inch, and then his boot caught a slick portion of bark; just a moment of helpless scrabbling before he fell.

The thud of sandy impact on his back momentarily jarred breath away, but he wordlessly celebrated the fact he'd been only ten feet up. This jubilation lasted for the half-second before the tree began to teeter, swaying with a great groan. Aadzrian swore softly, gathered up his bruised and exhausted body, and rolled to the side. A great wave of grit swept over him as the tree crashed down, one branch slapping him with stinging fervor, the rest safely avoided.

For a moment, the Timonae simply laid there, baking in the setting sun. Getting up seemed as ludicrous as everything else that had already happened today. But eventually he knew he had to get on with it, and so he wearily rolled to his feet and trudged upward through the foothills.

Somehow, without being fully aware of it, he traversed bridge and mountain and jungle in a quietly exhausted stupor. He ran out of water just before reaching the great waterfall, and stole a couple hours' sleep beside it before continuing on his way. He lost one boot to a pool of quicksand within the marshes, saved from worse losses by the aid of another low-hanging tree branch. That bare foot trod on a snake only half a mile from New Alhira, but after he pulled it free from his heel and examined it he recognized it as non-poisonous, so he merely threw it off into the trees.

And so he arrived on the evening of the next day, nearly 48 hours since this ill-advised trip had begun, limping filthy and worn, sore and exhausted onto Sanctuary Avenue. Knowing that Tirax would kill him otherwise, the very first thing he did was trudge into the hospital.

The nurse didn't understand his wild laughter when she proclaimed him extremely lucky and more or less fine, needing only rest and proper nourishment. He wasn't really able to explain it, either- she was right, after all. Lin had heeded his prayers and watched him every step of the way. But the nurse had made him strip into a hospital gown for the examination, and though he was bruised all over, aching and pained, even the snake bite- not a drop of blood had spilled on him.

And that night, when he stretched out on a hotel bed for a nap before forcing himself to rise and go to Quaquan, the extremely lucky man dreamt of blood again.

Fallout?

2009-01-15T20:04:00.000-05:00

In the middle of the night, black glass like objects fell down upon the city of Necromundus. They are reported as being anywhere from a pebble to a fist in size.

Residents of the city are being warned not to touch these objects or to come within a short distance of them, there have been numerous reports of direct contact or proximity triggering an explosing much like the one that wrecked the house of Shafi the Elf.

--Ivan Dubro, NNN

Free OOC Housing!

2009-01-14T11:49:00.000-05:00

Now that we've officially kicked off a new beginning for OtherSpace, it's time to reward our fans.

If you're a member of our Facebook fan club - http://www.facebook.com/pages/OtherSpace/10560530833 - then you're eligible for a free OOC house for each of your alts. Post an +str indicating who you are from the fan club page. Once we've confirmed it, we'll build a room for you. You can provide your own custom description for the house. You can use these houses as backstage hangouts, off-grid RP venues, and even embassies for other games, if you like.

Expansions of OOC housing eventually will be available for RPP.

Dark sphere eats house

2009-01-13T18:59:00.001-05:00

Earlier today the house of an Elf Healer by the name of Shafi was consumed by a sphere of dark energy. Witnesses say that it suddenly exploded from within the house, blowing Shafi out of the house before the sphere consumed about half the house.

A few eyewitnesses claim that when the sphere was gone, a black dagger and a naked Elf female lay at the bottom of the restulting crater. The sighting of the dagger is yet to be confirmed, but the unnamed Elf has been taken to Shafi's Healing Center, her status is unknown.

--Ivan Dubro, NNN

Romeo and Juliet auditions

2009-01-13T18:58:00.003-05:00

Auditions are taking place for a production of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'. The director of the play, a recently arrived Dwarf by the name of Francis Bacon, is hoping to perform sometime in late spring or early summer.

"We can perform this the way it was meant to be done in this setting. The dagger and the poison can be real," Bacon told NNN.

Anyone can audition, the only stipulation is that Romeo and Juliet must be comfortable with committing suicide on stage.

--Ivan Dubro, NNN

Strange visitors in Necromundus

2009-01-13T18:58:00.001-05:00

A number of strange new arrivals have been seen in Necromundus, appearing at first glance to be regular tauroids or other races. However, when examined more carefully, strange tones of voice might be noticed, or modes of walking that do not fit their physical build. All seem very interested in the portals, and the names of realm, while being familiar with Cataract.

The Heavenly Chorus' battlemage, Linnael, confronted one of these visitors, who appeared to be a tauroid. Though the person escaped through teleportation, the battlemage asserts that these are most likely Sae'Kall returning to the realm of portals.

Hall of Fame Entry: Falkenberg

2009-01-12T08:50:00.002-05:00

I've known the player behind this character since my days on TOS TrekMUSE back in the mid-1990s. On OtherSpace, he portrayed a roguish Han Solo-type. He had a working crew aboard his starship and provided a great example for other RP-generating players. He also served as a level-headed sounding board and approached the game without an overabundance of ego. That said: The man could fill a forum post. We referred to his epic writings as "Falkings." He's not active these days due to responsibilities IRL (he's got a family now)! But I still get encouraging comments from him on occasion, which rocks.

Introduction: OtherSpace Hall of Fame

2009-01-12T08:46:00.002-05:00

The sci-fi real-time text-based many-hyphened OtherSpace MUSH has been online in one incarnation or another since the summer of 1998. We've had hundreds of players from around the world. Some of them have had particularly remarkable impact on the game during their participation.

In this section of the site, I'll pay tribute to the players who made lasting marks on the universe of OtherSpace.

Necromundus Casting Call!

2009-01-10T21:44:00.002-05:00

We’re seeking to fill the following roles on Necromundus as of 1/10/2009:

Abraham Lincoln: America’s 16th president who led the country through the trials of the Civil War.
Sir Galahad: Knight of King Arthur’s round table in Camelot.
Kurt Cobain: Grunge rocking lead singer of Nirvana.
John F. Kennedy: United States president who was shot and killed in Dallas in 1963.
Humphrey Bogart: Famous actor who starred in Casablanca and The Big Sleep.
Al Capone: Ruthless Chicago mob boss.
Princess Diana: Beloved British icon who died in a Paris car crash.
Death: Keeper of the peace in the central city of Necromundus.

Auditions are required!

Skill System Primer

2009-01-10T17:59:00.000-05:00

The following materials based on FUDGE, entitled the Otherspace Skills System, were originally created by Andy Laugel and made available by Andy Laugel, rewritten by the players/staff of Otherspace: Millennium/Otherspace: The Farthest Star in 2008 and Jenna Clark (Dice), coded by Sean Sabbage (Ifrit) and are not authorized or endorsed in any way by Steffan O'Sullivan or any publisher of other FUDGE materials. Neither Steffan O'Sullivan or any publisher of other FUDGE material is in any way responsible for the content of these materials. Original FUDGE materials (c) Copyright 1992-1995 Steffan O'Sullivan, All Rights Reserved.

The skill system on OtherSpace was created for one major purpose: to serve as impartial, fair arbitration for conflicts that naturally arise in the course of RP. That said, several guiding principles drove the creation of this system. It was written to be flexible and balanced without permitting characters to excel in every area, letting newbies be competitive with older characters while still allowing room for growth and rewarding long-time players for their investment in the game. In order to achieve a balance between these competing goals, this system was dreamed up- taking the best aspects of our two former games, Otherspace: Millennium and Otherspace: The Farthest Star- and incorporating them into something in-between.

The skill system on OtherSpace, like most MUSHes, is more similar to a tabletop-style experience than a Mud. Instead of having a lot of specific coded commands that automatically roll your skills, OtherSpace lets characters choose when to roll their skills and what to roll. There are still rules, but this results in a great deal of flexibility. A locked door can be picked, broken down, gone around- or the key can be stolen off a guard.

In that vein, instead of a score system like MUDs, OS uses a +sheet command that displays your character sheet. This sheet sums up everything that your character can do, providing a snapshot of his/her/its strengths, weaknesses and abilities. The following document will tell you what everything on a character's +sheet means, how to build one, and how to use the +sheet once it's created.

Now, on to an explanation of the system itself...

Characters in the Otherspace Skills System are largely defined by three coded types of traits; attributes, skills, and GFQs (gifts/faults/quirks). These three factors, acting in conjunction, describe most of the aspects of your character and what he/she/it can do.

Attributes and skills are described by eight main levels in decreasing order of excellence: Legendary (8), Superb (7), Great(6), Good(5), Fair(4), Mediocre(3), Poor(2), and Terrible(1). Due to the inherent variability in the dice, rolls above Legendary or below Terrible may be seen at times- these are represented as Legendary+1 or Terrible-1 (or Non-existent), and etc.

For skills, a Fair can be considered about the rank of a beginning professional in a field, and Good the mark of someone able to comfortably make a living. Great is someone with a marked talent and special training, Superb represents both innate talent and years of dedicated practice, and someone with a Legendary in a skill might be known across planets for their talent in that area. PCs are supposed to be exceptional, but please try and keep your skills in line with your characters' backstory and accomplishments.

For attributes, a Fair before scaling is considered average for a member of your race. One can consider the distribution of attributes around Fair to probably be something of a bell curve- the vast majority of people would be close to the average, with ever-dwindling numbers at the high and low poles. Once again, PCs are supposed to be exceptional- so don't feel too bad if your character has a few higher attributes than the norm.

GFQs do not have levels- they are binary, either being on your character or not.

Now, let's look at these three types of traits in greater detail...

Attributes represent your character's basic competency in eight different domains; largely mental domains (Intelligence, Willpower, Charisma, Perception and Psi) and largely physical domains (Brawn, Dexterity and Reaction). Attributes are tied to skills; the list below details the purposes and domains of each. The specific mechanism by which attributes tie to skills will be explained in Skills and How to Build a Sheet.

Intelligence: Basic raw thinking ability/speed of mental processing and learning. Intelligence helps with scientific skills, computer-based skills, and many engineering skills. It may be rolled on its own for rolls involving memory and thought not governed by an already-defined skill.

Willpower: Strength of mind over body. Willpower helps with skills such as psionic resistance and pain resistance. It may also be rolled for general tests of mental strength that are not governed by an already-defined skill.

Charisma: Innate ability to command respect/affection from others- in short, people skills. Charisma helps with social skills of any sort, from singing to lying. It may also be rolled for attempts to charm NPCs that are not governed by an already-defined skill.

Perception: Attention to detail, both in terms of physically sharp senses and mentally sharp insight. Perception helps with a wide variety of skills that depend on keen senses, such as firing guns, some medical skills, and others. Perception should very rarely be rolled by itself; the skill Observation covers many things plain Perception would be useful for.

Brawn: Sheer physical prowess; this attribute represents both strength and constitution. Brawn governs damage done in melee combat, amount of damage a character can take, and is tied to a few skills that require hardiness of body. Brawn may be rolled for feats of strength or endurance that are not governed by an already-defined skill.

Dexterity: Physical coordination and grace, both full-body and with one's hands. Dexterity helps with many combat skills, musical instruments and several other skills that require talented hands. Dexterity may occasionally be rolled for miscellaneous physical trials that are not governed by an already-defined skill; however, many of those will fall under the skill Athletics.

Reaction: Speed of one's reflexes and movement. Reaction helps with piloting, evading bullets and emergency medical care. Reaction is rolled by players to determine who acts first in combat.

Psi: Basic innate psionic potential. Many races will not get this attribute at a usable level. Psi governs all psionic skills, and at least a Fair is required to use psionic powers. Psi will very rarely be rolled by itself.

Skills represent the trained abilities, rather than natural potentials, of your character. Every skill is tied to an attribute to represent the effect of your natural potential on your ability. Your default level of a skill will be based off the relevant attribute; to determine the default level, the tied attribute is divided by 2 and rounded down.

Starting Attribute-----Default Skill Level

Terrible Non-Existent

Poor Terrible

Mediocre Terrible

Fair Poor

Good Poor

Great Mediocre

Superb Mediocre

Legendary Fair

Skills can be scaled by other things on your sheet, mainly GFQs. When a skill is scaled, a number will appear beside it on your character sheet; green for a positive scale, red for a negative one. What this means is an effective boost for that skill; a Good(+1) skill rolls like a Great skill, but only costs as much as a Good skill to improve to the next level, and is treated like a Good skill in terms of all skill limits.

Otherspace has over 150 skills, divided into multiple categories. These allow you to build nearly any sort of character you would desire; the +skills command in-game will allow you to see the full list. +skills may be divided up for easier reading by three methods; by the category of the skill, the attribute the skill is tied to, or the cost of the skill. +skills medical will show you all medical skills, +skills brawn will show you all skills tied to Brawn, and +skills tier three will show you all skills of middle cost. Costs are represented by tiers; tier 5 is the cheapest and tier 1 the most expensive. More in-depth information about costs and raising skills will be included in section 6.

Gifts, Faults and Quirks, or GFQs for short, are various positive, negative or simply unusual facets of a character that don't fit into traditional Fudge levels. Gifts have positive coded effects on characters, faults have negative coded effects, and quirks are not coded, but simply represent some fact about the character. GFQs can cover anything from psionic powers to personality aspects to physical disabilities. A full list can be found on the game by typing +sinfo list gifts, +sinfo list quirks, and +sinfo list faults- or simply +sinfo list gfqs.

This section concerns the nuts and bolts of the skills system- your actual +sheet as a character.

To create a new character, one can either use the web-based chargen (more details later) or go through the character generation, or chargen, exit from the location in which one starts. This is accomplished by typing 'cg'. Once in chargen, you'll have to answer a series of 20 questions that indicate you're a mature roleplayer who understands the inevitable pitfalls of playing in a world with in-character consequences for in-character actions.

After that, a character will have to choose their race. Information on races can be found elsewhere in this wiki, along with the coded implications of each racial choice. Races come with different default skills, scaled attributes and starting GFQs.

Once race, gender and other such beginning details are selected, it's time for the biography! The bio needs to be at least 250 words long, describing the character's origin, background and life story in a third-person format. Consider including details such as home planet, age, childhood/family, first romantic interest, and any formative events. Also in the bio, you'll need to think about two issues- the starting RPP you want and your GFQs.

RPP, or roleplaying points, serve as OS's 'xp'- the currency that buys you skills and gfqs. All new characters will start with at least 1000 RPP; people who wish to play older or more experienced characters should detail both the desired amount of RPP and their justification for it. Characters cannot have more than 4000 RPP's worth of skills on their sheet; it is unlikely that any starting character will get a full 4000, but the award will be based on what your character's life story justifies.

GFQs are received at chargen, and any requests for them should be included in the biography you submit. Future GFQs may be added to your +sheet through the course of play as logical consequences of your roleplay. However, the sum total of GFQs you request beyond your starting ones should equal no more than 180 RPP and no less than -180 RPP.

There are several basic kinds of GFQs worth noting. Improved/Impaired gifts/faults will scale your attributes; this works the same way as scaling a skill. A number appears by the attribute, and that attribute's effective level is altered by that number, both for rolls and for calculating default levels. Cost is still based off the unscaled level, however.

The Training GFQs are also likely to be of interest to most characters. Combat/Computer/Engineering/Medical/Pilot Training are five mutually exclusive GFQs that represent your character's main area of competency. Taking a skill that falls into one of these five groups without the proper GFQ will cost double for all ranks beyond Fair. This keeps characters from being a doctor/pilot/ninja, or possessing any other combination of skills that would in real life take far too much time in training to attain at high competency.

Most other GFQs that don't fall into the two above categories will scale skills, and should be considered based on issues of backstory and practicality alike. Asking for a ridiculous number of gifts and a ridiculous number of faults may cause your application to need revising- the GFQs you request should be clearly grounded in your character's backstory.

Once your bio is approved and you've been awarded your starting RPP/GFQs, it's time to go ahead and build the character. The first step to take should be raising your attributes, as the levels of your attributes will determine the cost of your skills. Raising skills first will greatly increase their cost and get you much less bang for the buck.

Attributes default to Mediocre, with most races having at least one attribute scaled. Every character receives 64 points to raise their attributes, with currently no additional points available after chargen. Remember, attributes are very important to your character, both in roleplay and in terms of code capacity, so please think carefully when you set them in creation! When you're out of attribute points, that's it- you won't get any more later, unlike RPP. Costs can be checked by typing +sinfo (any attribute) while in-game, but a basic rubric is as follows:

Terrible-Poor: 4
Poor-Med: 2
Med-Fair: 2
Fair-Good: 4
Good-Great: 6
Great-Superb: 8

Attributes cannot be raised higher than Superb before scaling; to lower them below your character's starting level requires a +str to the admins with justification of your reasons. Psi cannot be lowered beyond Mediocre, and must be at least Fair after scaling to allow a character to use the psionic gifts that they have.

Now that you have GFQs and attributes set up, you can finish off by buying the meat of your +sheet- the skills.

Skill Synergies/Default Ranks:
You'll have several skills above the level of Non-existent that won't show on your +sheet until you +raise them. This is because there are three different ways to obtain levels in a skill; default levels, synergy levels, or raised levels. Default levels are the levels derived from your attributes; synergy levels are derived based off skills you already have. You may notice some +sinfos have an "Affects:" or "Affected By:" field; skills that "Affect" other skills give you a default rank in the skills they affect that is two levels lower.

An example would be Engineering; Engineering affects Mechanic, so any character who purchases a Great level in Engineering will find that their Mechanic skill will roll at Fair. Looking at the +sinfo of a skill will always tell you your effective rank; the "Your Level" field displays the highest value among default ranks, synergy ranks, and ranks you have bought with XP.

Costs:
As mentioned before, skills fall into five tiers, with base costs of 5/10/15/20/25. The progression of these costs from Terrible to Legendary is as follows: 1x/2x/3x/4x/5x/10x/15x/20x. This means that Greats, Superbs and Legendaries are all much more expensive than lower-level skills, with a Legendary in a tier one (or base 25 cost) skill costing over 1000 RPP to reach from its default level! An example set of costs per level would be, for a base 15 cost skill: 15/30/45/60/75/150/225/300. Remember, these costs are doubled beyond Fair if you lack the appropriate Training quirk... so specializing heavily outside of your character's training will cost you.

A maximum of 4000 RPP can be put onto a character's sheet; this is the only restriction on skills, other than that a character may have only one effective Legendary skill once scaling is taken into account. Ranks that are given to you by a synergy or by default through the attribute tie do not cost anything to raise; if you have a Great attribute and you raise a skill tied to it from Non-existent to Fair, you will only pay for the raise from Mediocre-Fair, as your attribute automatically gives you the skill at Mediocre for no cost.

Several basic skills are recommended for everyone: Dodging allows one to avoid attacks, Observation allows one to notice hidden facets of their surroundings, and Mental Discipline allows one to resist psionic assaults. None of these are required, but they may help face some of the challenges of OS's world. Make sure you look fully through the skills before you finish your +sheet!

+sheet: Displays your character's skills, attributes, GFQs, and other values.
+sinfo (attribute), +sinfo (skill), or +sinfo (gfq): Displays information on an attribute, skill, or GFQ.
+skills | +skills (attribute), +skills (tier number), +skills (category): Displays all skills/skills broken down into groups.
+raise (skill or attribute) to (level): Raises a skill or attribute to the desired Fudge level.
+lower (skill) to (level): Lowers a skill to the desired Fudge level for a 1/2 RPP point refund.

Once your character is fully created, you're able to go out and join the roleplay world!

Eventually, a situation will likely arise where you'll need to roll the skills on your sheet. The command to do so is +taskroll skill or attribute at modifier. The modifier is a number that will be added to your roll; +1 makes a Fair roll like it's a Good, for example. You can also use +roll if you wish to simply roll for a level, such as +roll Great at 0- this will roll as if you're rolling a trait you had Great in. This command is very useful for @emitting NPCs.

The math behind +taskroll is fairly straightforward. Let's say that your character has that Great in Engineering used as an example under synergies in the last section. When you type +taskroll Engineering at 0, the system rolls 3dF- three Fudge dice- and adds the result to your skill to give you a final result in Fudge levels. Fudge dice are three-sided dice, the sides equalling +1, 0, -1. This means that any +taskroll can range from -3 to +3 below/above your skill level- for a Great skill, anywhere between Mediocre and Legendary+1- but that results closer to +0 are much more common.

Here is a table of the relative probabilities of certain rolls in the Otherspace Skill System:

+3=3.7%
+2=11.1%
+1=22.2%
+0=25.9%
+1=22.2%
+2=11.1%
+3=3.7%

There are two types of rolls; unopposed and opposed rolls. Unopposed rolls need only meet a certain threshold to succeed; opposed rolls are rolled against another PC or NPC and need to beat their result. Specific rules for rolling skills, often including modifier tables, tend to be found in the skill's +sinfo, but there are some general precepts that guide all rolls.

With unopposed rolls, the basic modifier is 0, and a result of Mediocre or above is counted as a success. Examples might be fixing a broken spaceship, hitting a stationary target with a weapon, or generally acting on/against something without its own will or volition. Harder tasks may have negative modifiers, and easier tasks may have positive modifiers, representing the relative ease of success.

With opposed rolls, the basic modifier is 0, and success is defined by beating the roll of your opponent. Examples might be hacking a system defended by a network admin, winning a footrace, or engaging in combat. Ties always go to the defender, so if both an attacker and a target in combat roll the same level, the victim is considered unharmed. This also applies to skills such as Stealth and Observation; however, in the case of Stealth, the one rolling Stealth is considered the defender. Opposed rolls should always be skill vs skill, except in very rare situations where no relevant skill exists for what the character is trying to do; in this case, characters can roll attribute versus attribute. Most skills have at least one counterskill defined in their +sinfo, however, and other logical counterskills can be used pending supporting RP.

The new Otherspace game should be considered a beta; anything in this skill system that doesn't work in play may be liable to change. However, this page will always contain the most up-to-date breakdown of what we're using on the game. If you have any questions or comments, log on to the game or visit our forums at http://www.jointhesaga.com/ovforums to speak to the staff- and we will listen!