Challenge #00612 - A247: Universal Nevers
Quite honestly, you could strap those engines to just about anything and it could make escape velocity.
That’s what the man had said when he’d sold them the refurbished hulk for an amazingly cheap price. He’d said not to turn the gravity on until they were at least two hundred clicks on their way.
What he’d neglected to mention was that any motor can achieve escape velocity if used in a cumulative fashion. Especially when already in the vacuum of space.
He also neglected to mention that the decor peeled right off when exposed to atmosphere.
And that the gravity drives were non-existent.
He failed to mention the lingering smell or, for that matter, that smoke got into the air vents if the engines were pushed past the amber line beyond two degrees. He also neglected to tell them about the infestation of Oshits, now hyperactive that there was atmosphere again.
Proving, once more, that one must never purchase a vehicle from a dealer with “Honest” in their name. Especially if it’s in inverted commas.
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Challenge #00611 - A246: Every Apprentice Does It
My god… it’s full of spelling errors.
Alani was going after Extra Credit. Finding the Original Source was always good for that. She traced it from planetoid to planetoid, from reference to reference to sub-reference and finally… in the Dark Rooms where only special lights were allowed… a yellowed and rather small booklet kept in its own rarified atmosphere and handled only through waldoes.
To show willing, Alani used the special scope to view the myopic scribble of an ancient hand.
All unaware that Tutor Els was right behind her until the venerable Archivaas spoke.
“What do you see, Apprentice?”
“By the Powers… it’s full of errata…”
“We tell you, do we not, that seeking information from the Original Source is not always as educational as you think it might be.”
“Yes,” sighed Alani. “Yes, you do.” Moisture gathered in her eyes and she retreated from the scope to wipe the tears on her sleeve before they could drop and spoil something precious. “I see, now. And I especially see why this author switched to digital entry only.”
“That, and hir handwriting is deplorable.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have new insights for the extra credit.”
“Nonsense! Seeking knowledge of any kind is credit-worthy work. And seeking this lesson out so early in your learning will serve you well.”
“Yes, Tutor Els.”
“And next time you feel tempted, check the notes on the condition of the piece.”
“Yes, Tutor Els.”
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Challenge #00610 - A245: One Stormy Afternoon in a Spaceport Drydock
…but for all that they’re effective, they’re about as far from efficient as trying to run a car via rocket motors.
The geiger indicators were still rattling like a drawer full of loose beads as crew working on the dilapidated vessel did what they could to reduce the risk to other citizens on the station. They were dressed head to toe in anti-radiation armour. And worked in shifts of ten minutes at a time.
In the nearest emergency med-bay, similarly-clothed medical technicians ran every procedure and protocol known to intelligent life on the pilot.
She’d literally risked her life to get away from a planet she called Pit.
The witness in the next booth was talking fast. “We found her trying to boost past point nine cee, crosswise to the established trade lanes. If we hadn’t picked her up, she’d have hit someone. Did you know that ship is just a life pod with nukes up its butt? That’s-that’s… human!”
The pilot was unresponsive. What she thought of her engineering in comparison to the witness was not yet, and might never be a matter of permanent record. What sort of world would be so toxic that a resident would risk permanent damage just to escape?
“Nukes,” Sherlock repeated, on the other side of a comm-link. “Effective, yes. Dangerous, also. But for all their efficacy, they’re as efficient as trying to run a car with rockets…”
The geiger counters sizzled like cicadas as technicians removed the glowing fuel cells, and quieted down once they were in safe storage. Dangerous stuff. Best left in the core of a planet or the heart of a star.
“What hope is there?” he asked.
“The Cogniscent Rights Committee is already back-tracing her path. Not hard since it practically glows in the dark. She travelled all the way in real-space and her supplies were still high, so… it’s a near enough star. We might save her planet.”
“And what about her?”
The medtech looked grim. “Do you pray, sir?”
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Challenge #00608 - A243: Wait, what?
Found embedded in the radio signature of almost every star that had a sapient species evolve in orbit around it:
Couldn’t solve the heat death problem in this version. By the time we figured that out, life had evolved. Sorry about that. Good luck.
-The Creators
“It’s the same message. Encoded into every star that evolved life over sixteen billion years ago.”
“It’s taken two thousand years of research and decoding to decipher the message into Standard.”
“The good news is, it’s relatively brief. The bad news is… it doesn’t make sense.”
“The message reads as follows: Couldn’t solve the heat death problem in this version. By the time we figured that out, life had evolved. Sorry about that. Good luck. -The Creators.”
Murmuring filled the auditorium.
Someone put up their hand.
“Yes?”
“So… they could patch the universe to leave a note, but they couldn’t patch it to fix the stars? Why?”
“That’s what we’re working on now.”
“Sorry.”
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Challenge #00607 - A242: One Disasterous Afternoon, Mid-Alien-Invasion
Most certainly a [species] spy in disguise. I mean not. Not a [species] spy. Human. Completely human. Yes.
“Oh, now, come on,” said the Doctor. “That can’t be a Friendly. That’s obviously a Golgafraxan spy in disguise. Do none of you notice her complexion?”
“Doctor…”
“If it is a her. They get the genders mixed up.”
“Doctor…”
“Look I’ll prove it. Golgafraxans react negatively to garlic.” He whipped out a small container and blew a foul smelling-dust at the person of contention…
…who sneezed genteelly into her elbow and said with a weary sigh, “Still not a Golgafraxan, Doctor. Still just Sara Louise Adrian. Remarkable facsimile.” She had a damp cloth in one of her belt-pouches and used it to erase the dust from her skin. “And I prefer my garlic in pasta sauce, thank you.”
“Oh. Ah. Not a Golgafraxan spy. Human. Completely human. Yes.”
“Aaaaahhh…?” prompted Sara.
“Sorry.”
“That’s better,” said the mutant heroine.
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Challenge #00606 - A241: Essential Equipment
Recalibrate your sarcasm detector.
“All right,” said Ama. “Where we’re going has lots of humans. So let’s make sure we’re prepared. Remember, even though they’re Class Four Deathworlders, they don’t mean to harm us. They’re aware of our relative frailties and will act accordingly.”
“Yes’m,” said the entire class. They were halfway into their safety suits.
El struggled with her Permaseal Line, panicking, and desperate to not be left behind. There was something about meeting the most dangerous and insane species in the known Galactic Alliance that was irresistible.
Ama came to help her. “Calm down. It’s all right. There’s plenty of time. Let’s look at the problem.”
And once she did… El could see that she’d flipped the switch to Seal, instead of Loose. An easy fix. She hurried inside her suit anyway. Fast enough to catch up with her classmates, but slow enough to make sure she didn’t get anything wrong.
Her kind were still becoming used to Deathworlders. There were so many things they could casually do that were a hazard to her kind.
Infection Barrier on and sealed, air filters attached and locked, armour… it was Humans who invented the lightweight exoskeletons that could protect El and her class from accidental and deadly blows.
“Teacher Ama?” said El. “How do Deathworlders get to be so tough?”
Which filled in the remaining time until Docking. Deathworlders evolved on planets with hostile conditions, ranging from poisonous plants to venomous life forms to deadly weather and hostile terrain. The planet Terra had all of the above.
Most Deathworlders were hostile against other life forms. Humans were hostile against themselves. They had tactics to trick one group into thinking that another were not human despite their obvious similarities. They could define personhood to include a non-corporeal, non-intelligent co-operation of humans, but could not include the females of their own species under that same umbrella definition.
Humans were insane. It was the only rational explanation.
“Now. Everyone calibrate your sarcasm detectors. They’re prone to overload around some humans, so maximise the tolerances.”
And, when El saw them for the first time… all she could think was, They look so small.
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Challenge #00605 - A240: Tax Haven
“I like paying taxes. With them I buy civilization.” – Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes
Patriot Imbaw swaggered up to the immigration counter, and pressed his paperwork through the little slot. “I need citizenship on this here Galactic Station ay-sap. How can we -ah- accelerate that process?” He had a greasy smile and greasy hair. In fact, just about everything about him could be described in terms of grease. It seemed like he perspired oily residue that had no origin in the equatorial realms of his waist.
“We must evaluate your situation, so your full honesty is appreciated.” Registration clerk Judi Bell began a trace. “Once verified, your employment assessment will begin.”
“Employment! I let my money do the work,” he laughed uproariously. “Money covers all bases. Look. I’m only moving here because there’s no taxes, understand?”
“Are you a legal shareholder of a corporate entity?”
“Naw, honey. I’m just rich. And I’m used to getting what I want, so shimmy-shake, darlin’.”
Aha. He was from one of the Greater Deregulations. “Sir, I’m afraid the exchange rate on your… riches… isn’t that spectacular. And regulations require that you maintain a state of employ.”
“Just find me a loophole, sweetheart. There’s a million Yahu’s in it for you.”
“Sir. You can not bribe me with Three Minutes.”
It went downhill from there. Rather rapidly.
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Challenge #00604 - A239: One Stormy Evening in a Spaceport Bar
You’ll make it in five days, boosting six points past emergency max the whole way. If the engineer’s been doing his job, the engines won’t blow until you hit eight. Quite safe.
Plasma from Hyperspace leaked with every ship that travelled through a wormhole. And when it reached a certain density, or a one-way wormhole ‘popped’ into a two way passage, electrons discharged through it in a pattern that still baffled mathematicians everywhere.
And for those caught in Crossroads Station, on the inside of Hyperspace, where two shipping paths met and someone set up a place to serve a multitude of needs… the storms had them all itching to be elsewhere.
“My knee’s still aching. It’s going to be another Hour, still.”
“Do us a favour and tell us when your knee’s not aching, okay?”
On the public address, a friendly voice told all those who cared to listen that all flights were delayed another five minutes while the storms continued. It had been making this announcement for three days.
And someone, somewhere, was trying to wheedle passage the heck out of Crossroads and towards Hitizzy.
“Look,” said the human. He had a mop of strawberry-blonde curls and a complexion best described as ‘swarthy’. Any other piratical leanings were completely obliterated by the generic Services Orange outfit he wore. “I’m not saying ‘go now’. That’s be suicide. Just wait until there’s a lull and floor it to Hitizzy.”
“It’s still a week-long journey.”
“Aw, don’t give me that. You can make it in five days if you boost six points past emergency max the whole way.”
“But my engines!”
“Your engines’ll be fine if your engineer’s done his job. They won’t blow ‘till ye get to eight points. Safe as houses.”
The saurian glared at the human. “You and I have entirely different definitions of ‘safe’.”
“You’re broke. I have cargo. I can’t pay ye a deposit, but if we get it to Hitizzy before the end of the storms, we’ll be insanely rich! What’s not ta love?”
“You. Your definition of ‘safe’ and the fact that your cargo is alive…”
“Check the numbers. You’ll see.”
The saurian grumbled and ran data through his info-viewer. Then he boggled. “And how are you planning to know when a lull’s coming?”
“Old Joe and hir knee is the most reliable storm predictor in the Galactic alliance. Been payin’ fer hir drinks.”
The saurian reluctantly offered a hand. “Ax’and’l.”
“Hwell Barrow. Very pleased to be doin’ business with ye sir!”
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Challenge #00603 - A238: Bad, Bad Intel
I may be small, but I screw up big because I’m standing on the shoulders of GIANTS.
The dangerous mammals were clustered in one area. One area full of volatile chemicals, dangerous levels of electricity, and heavy concentrations of methane and pathogens.
Hundreds of them gathered in the night to observe some ritualistic activity that involved rhythmic gyrations and consumption or production of the above substances.
They were a threat to the Mo'fathan Empire.
Which was how Kirxaan the Mighty opened fire on a holiday resort and became guilty of the slaughter of just under three thousand unarmed non-combatants.
And how he gained the negative attention of the humans.
Which, should you examine the chain of events, is why the Mo'fathan Empire doesn’t exist any more.
So, in a way, Kirxaan was right. But only after he opened fire.
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Challenge #00602 - A237: Don’t Panic!
“I’m not panicking, I’m watching you panic. It’s more entertaining.”
This was the first time she’d been locked in a room with a human. While it did bring people watching to new and increasingly intimate levels, it did rather limit the options, should said human start lashing out.
As it was, this one seemed to like saying ‘okay’ a lot.
“Okay… Oh….kay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay. Okayokayokayokayokayokay… Ooooohhhhhhh… Kay. Okay. I can handle this. I’m okay. Okay.” The human seemed to notice Jaka for the first time and said, “It’s goin’ tae be all righ’. No need tae panic…”
“I am not engaged in activity - panic,” said Jaka. “I am much more entertained by your panic.”
“Glad I can help,” said the human. “I go by Shayde.”
“Jaka,” said Jaka, shaking her hand. She was trembling. “Are you feeling cold? I am assured this is optimal temperature.”
“Aye, it’s that.” jiggle jiggle jiggle. “I don’t like small rooms. I really don’t like small rooms.” She dropped to a whisper so she could mutter, “…keepittogether, keepittogether, keepittogether…”
“This is unusual, so far from Sol.”
“No’ me fault. Bunch'a reet bastards dropped me off in here. Cannae go for’d… cannae go back… in more ways than one. I’m sorta kind'a a little bit stook. An’ na ’m stook werse.”
Jaka took off her info viewer and put it on display mode. “Here is map of service crews. They are coming to fix the problem. See? All little orange dot. Friendly orange dot. Friendly red dot, also. Coming to help. They has excellent sedative for you. Fun sleep.”
Shayde’s obsidian nail picked out a rainbow dot. “And one JOAT on me side. Ee! 'E’s gone in tae the vents. Poor bugger’d have tae shapeshift. I’m no likin’ this bill…”
“I’ll accept payment in baked goods,” said an almost-cat inside the ventilation grille. It carried a plastic blow pipe.
“Rael! Aw yer a sight fer sore eyes. This is Jaka. She’s nice.”
“Stop trying to fix me up with a date and let me have a clear shot at your jugular.”
“Don’t tell me… repairs are goin’ tae take more'n a bitty while.”
“Hours,” said Rael, readying the blow pipe.
Shayde pulled aside her hair. “Stand back. I go down like a brick.”
If Jaka had one complaint, it was that the human was not allowed to panic for longer. Hours in a dim veet, watching a human sleep were not as fun as the minutes watching her fear reactions.
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