Challenge #00623 - A258: What Do You Mean, ‘Going’?

The uselessness of the “reassurance”, which I’ve had given to me in real life, that ‘You know you’re not insane by the fact that you still worry about your sanity’. You could quite easily not realise that you’re currently insane, and still worry about it.

“You said you loved me,” sang Annie Lennox, “Or were you just being kiiiind… Or am I losing my mind?”

“Good question, Annie,” I murmured. They’d said that too long in space did things to the mind. I knew that. I did checks, regularly. I had all the tricks.

I had CoSy on my side. An AI that helped on the long haul to give the illusion of companionship, someone to talk to, and to help maintain mental health.

And lately, I had Beulah.

She was a good addition to the crew. Not that she did much. But the ship was less empty with her in my bed and occasionally by my side. And she sang along to all my best tunes.

And I have my letters home. Vlogs. Whatever. It’s less lonely when you have someone to talk to.

Beulah has a wonderful singing voice. I wish you could hear it.

But you’re zillions of miles away.

“Don’t worry about it,” soothed Beulah in her typical wisdom. “The fact that you’re concerned is sign enough that you’re still sane.”

Good ol’ Beulah. She’s my rock.

Freddie Mercury came over the speakers next, and we crooned along about finding somebody to love. And laughed. You see, we already had each other. We didn’t need anyone or anything else. Alone together.

When you have someone to be alone together with… Well… even a crappy old salvage crate like this one is Heaven.

Don’t tell Beulah, but… I’ve taken to jettisoning some of the cargo when we get close to red-line. Just to stay out longer. Oh, don’t give me that face. It’s cracker-jack stuff. The least valuable dross from our adventures.

Nothing to set off the alarms.

Man, we’re gonna be rich when I can’t get away with that any more.

Speaking of… I tucked Beulah in and made my ‘final rounds’ before hitting the sleep sack again. Gotta keep a schedule. Gotta save power by only running the gravity when we’re awake. Gotta save and shave, just to spend more time out here.

The sargasso field is beautiful by the starlight. Beulah and I spend most of our nights chatting about it until we fall asleep.

But this time… this time there’s more than one red light. More than one fire to put out.

Food stocks are red-lining. Cargo capacity is red-lining. The plants need maintenance. The algae tubes need flushing. Audio systems failed. The entire ship needs a week in dry-dock.

No…

No.

NO!

We have to go home.

“You’re crying,” said Beulah.

“Yeh,” I sighed. “Nothin’ for it. Home-time.”

“It’s okay,” soothed Beulah. “I want to see your home. I’d love to see a sky. It isn’t that bad. And when we get back? I’ll treat you to some Real Steak.”

She knows me too damn well. She made it easy for me to press the button. Even though I knew… I knew something bad would happen when we got there.

*

“Worst case of Iso-madness I’ve ever seen,” sighed the medtech.

“Why is she hanging on to that rock?”

“She calls it ‘Beulah’. When her CoSy and audio feedback failed beyond her ability to repair it… she did whatever she could to stay sane. Including inventing a companion.”

“Miner-Ell Salvage takes full responsibility, of course. We’re going all over her logs to find the point of failure.”

“That’s -what- months of footage?”

“Yes,” the lawyer touched two fingers to the monitor and the image of the salvager within. “Something like this should never happen again.”

On the monitor, Ijon Smith cuddled and kissed her ‘companion’ rock. A vaguely human-shaped pillar of a light material no-one had yet been able to analyse. Salvager Smith was very protective of her Beulah.

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed. “We’ll see the sky, soon. We’ll see the sky.” A moment of silence, staring into nothing, and her reedy voice began to sing, “Running down the avenue… see how the sun shines brightly…”

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Challenge #00620 - A255: Know Your Source

Step 1: Take your left hand or grasping appendage.

Step 2: Reach your left hand or grasping appendage and move it so it is behind you.

Step 3: Lower your left hand or grasping appendage so that it is perpendicular to your pelvis.

Step 4: Move your left hand or grasping appendage towards your body, so that it contacts the rear of your pelvis.

Step 5: Grasp the rear of your pelvis.

Step 6: Lift.

Congratulations, you are now flying by the seat of your pants.

There was an irate saurian in the foyer. And, judging by the copious bags at hir feet, they were prepared to wait until someone in charge could see them.

The gatekeeper-secretary tidied his hair before discreetly calling their ultimate superior. Editor in Chief, Sanja Elkrun.

“Sir,” murmured the secretary. “We have a camper in the foyer. They want to see you.”

“How many bags?”

“I’ve counted six.”

Sigh. “Well, at least it isn’t lawyers.” Editor Elkrun cut the comms. There was a twenty-minute window upcoming in her schedule that she usually reserved for window-time, but her psychological wellbeing had evidently been trumped, today.

She stepped smartly into her executive veet and pretended normalcy after the vertiginous drop to the ground floor. Even at max boost, there was not much time. Sanja left the veet talking. “Welcome, cogniscent, to the offices of MegaMagazines. I am Editor in Chief, Sanja Elkrun. I do not have much time, so please keep this quick.”

The saurian stood, revealing herself to be a female Enkapha. “I am Ligath. I came in protest to your instructions on page one five three of Human Comedy.”

“Sir…” said Sanja kindly. “The title of the publication is Human Comedy. We have disclaimers and warnings in pop-ups that you must read and acknowledge.”

“Oh, I had those turned off. They’re far too annoying.”

Once again, the forces of ignorance trumped the desperate attempts of the virtuous to help them remain educated. “And the title of Human Comedy didn’t tell you that any instructions in the main body of the magazine are not to be taken seriously?”

Great Powers, she could actually see the righteous indignation in Ligath’s posture drain out of her. “Uh. Er. When you put it that way…”

“Do you consent to having this event become material for our magazine?” asked Sanja. “You have had warnings turned off, so I must ask if you read the disclaimer at the door.” The disclaimer that plainly stated in GalStand and the five leading languages of the Galactic Alliance that people coming inside the offices to complain quickly became grist for the magazine mill, and entering was tantamount to consent.

“What? No!”

“Then in future, I suggest that you leave your warnings on,” she said. “For your continued wellbeing.” She turned away and strode back to her executive veet.

Sanja got all the way past the four hundredth floor before she burst out laughing.

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Challenge #00618 - A253: Anything That Can Go Wrong…

Farewell. Please say hello to Murphy when he clobbers you.

Those had been her last words to the human. They should have been the last words she ever spoke to the insane mammal.

Yet there it was. Hale and hearty. Enjoying a brew with the other Galactics in a seedy bar that also boasted Unsuitable Food on the menu.

“How?” she demanded. “How did you survive? I barely made it out of that melee with my hide intact!”

The human grinned. “Have you heard of the term, ‘lucker’?”

“Sounds like a curse.”

“Oh it is, it is,” the human took a generous swig of its drink. “It’s the ability to fall into a privy pit and come out with gold. It’s the knack of tripping and breaking a toe, only to find that you tripped over a priceless relic. And in one case, its accidentally chopping off your finger while making a speech about how soft you’re not.”

Jerl glared at the creature. “That… doesn’t sound very lucky…”

“It was extremely lucky for the Vardian Empire. Got a bunch of right bastards to back down. Earned the nickname Gregor Elfhand ever after… but that’s what lead to the discovery of the Luck gene. Unfortunately, it comes with a heavy side of Clumsy.”

Jerl reassessed the layers of scars visible on the humans’ hide. There didn’t seem to be any fresh ones.

“Hi,” said the human. “I’m Wanda the Unfortunate. I got an overload of Clumsy and half the Luck. Which, by pure chance, is just enough Luck to live.”

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Challenge #00616 - A251: Adventuring with humans

Maybe, maybe not. After all his plan IS flawless after all.

He doesn’t have a plan at all so there can’t be any flaws in it.

“That’s a plan?” yawped the Princess. “How can the human’s plans possibly have a complete success rate?

"That’s the thing, it isn’t a plan,” explained Ax'and'l. “It’s more a succession of goals. You’ve heard the old edict that no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy?”

“Oh yes. It’s drilled into all of us from the age of understanding.”

“Hwell’s exactly the kind of enemy that the other guy fears. He improvises. He goes with the flow. But he also redirects that flow towards his goals.”

Something exploded. Because a plan - or a list of goals - in Hwell’s hands quickly included something going boom. Ax'and'l thanked his lucky stars that that boom was usually in the company finance report.

Hwell sauntered back without a mark on him or his nigh-piratical garb. “That aughta keep ‘em good and busy. This way to the escape vehicle, gentle cogniscents.”

“I’m not even going to ask how he does that,” said the Princess.

“I’m just going to frisk him for bottles,” said Ax'and'l.

“…hey!”

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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 #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 #00609 - A244: Intervention

[species] Science: It gets results! Just… not always the ones you want. (Alarm sound) Oh [deity] there’s another containment breach!

“Another? This happens frequently?” asked the visiting human.

“Oh yes. Researching the makeup of the universe is a dangerous pastime.”

“Uhm… It doesn’t have to be. You could make sure the reactor is secure before continuing your research.”

The lizard scientist stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Where’s the fun in that?”

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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 #00598 - A233: Aftermath

Thank God you’re safe and I’m going to strangle you with my bare hands.

Rael picked up a forkful of double-chocolate beignets with fruit preserve stuffing a la mode, looked at it critically, and put it back down again.

“Playing with your food?” boggled Nik the Gyiik. “For you, this is a dangerous sign. Is all well?”

He made himself eat because he knew his body needed sustenance. For Gyiik cooking, this was almost sacrilege. “You remember Shayde,” he said.

“The pain in the anatomy clothed in an enigma, wrapped in a mystery and talked nothing but riddles? Yes. I liked her. I have a recipe for all sorts of lost Terran delights, thanks to her exquisite memory.”

“She’s gone.”

“What? She was relatively young… or was it young by relativity?”

“No, she’s not dead. The alleged gods that dropped her on me took her back.”

“What did they look like, these gods?” asked Nik. “I didn’t see it, but there are conflicting accounts and the securicams picked up nothing.”

“To me? They looked like really cheap special effects. Tacky, even. And I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

Nik smiled. “Ah. I see. You like her more than you tell.”

“Not like that. Honestly. What is it with you evolvers and breeding?”

“Eh. Liking children helps there be more of us.” Nik shrugged with all his four arms. “But there is something you miss,  no? Some way you are worried about her… something you’d like to see again.”

Rael tried to taste his food in a desperate effort to avoid the implication of romance. Romantic love was a dreadful cliche. And most likely impossible, given that, as an engineered life form, his breeding specs were -well- specific.

And he didn’t really want to know what they were.

“Eh…?” Nik waggled his crunchy eyebrows. He wasn’t giving up.

“All right. Fine. Against my better judgement, yes. I miss her. Not just any one thing… all of her. Even the annoying aspects.”

There was a sound like tearing silk as a black talon tore a temporary hole in reality and the unlikely entity known as Shayde slithered through it. “Ah I knew ye loved me! Gi’ us a hug.”

All his unlikely and unwanted emotions spilled out of his mouth at once in a flustered, “Thank the Powers you’re all right! I am going to strangle you with my bare hands!”

She just laughed and french-dipped him into a kiss.

“Er,” said Nik. “Any particular reason that you’re naked?”

Shayde looked down at herself, shrieked, and covered her censorable portions with her hands. “Really long story. Can I do the shadow-hop, then?”

Good grief. She actually remembered to ask first. Rael nodded mutely.

Once again, she was gone. But this time, he knew she would be coming back.

He still didn’t know whether to be elated or furious.

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Challenge #00597 - A232: Detective Work

“We have advanced to new and surprising levels of bafflement.”

The body in the vents was hundreds of years old. Dating back to some of the last territorial wars that occurred in or near Cuidgari space. Tracking down the insignia remaining on the body required nosing around in the Archivaas networks.

Something which Lyr had drafted Rael for on Hours Plus. In this case, Hours, plus food and lodging. The food part was going to set her back a great deal, he knew, because his metabolism was permanently set on ‘searing hot’.

Rael had stopped when he’d run out of sources and kibble simultaneously, and pinged Officer Marken to meet him at Unsuitable Food Eat for some paid taste-testing.

“Progress?” asked Lyr.

“I have reached new and surprising levels of bafflement.”

“Well, crap,” she slumped in her seat. “I still owe you for your time. How much is this going to set me back?”

“This is a pre-menu item. I’m being paid to eat,” he smiled. “Something of a holiday job for me. Win-win, on this case.”

“Yeah. I saw your average food bill. Sherlock’s going to get sarcastic.”

Rael slid across the tablet with his findings. “The insignia had three possible factions depending on their placement on the uniform. All of them Cuidgari rebels against the forced overtaking of Amalgam Station by… B'dauss military.”

“Wow. Ancient history.”

“Yes. There’s little extant sources from that time. The Archivaas have done what they can, but…”

“Damn.” Lyr shook her head. “I know this is going to turn up again. Did the forensics department give you anything?”

“Acid. Hydrochloric acid. Highly concentrated. But there’s no evidence of how it impacted the poor fellow’s thorax from above.”

“Not any more. This station and its sundry parts have been re-tooled so often that it’s surprising there’s anything to use as evidence.” Her gaze went unfocussed and her body straightened in her seat. Something else spoke with her mouth. “When a shadow walks, we’ll know.”

“Pardon?”

Lyr shook herself. “What?”

“You just said something very strange.”

“Well write it down. I don’t prophesy often. It’s probably something important. Oh, and send me a copy for the records. The religious quadrant is checking my hit-to-miss ratio.”

Rael made a dismissive noise and rolled his eyes, indicating his general opinion of the religious quadrant. But he did make note of Lyr’s strange words.

How in the realm of possibility could a shadow walk?

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