[Spaceship Zero] Q-Ship (actually updated 19 May 2007)

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 4

Nobody speaks for several moments after Gustav's announcement, then Commander Ivanov leans forward, steepling his hands,

"I want to be very clear about this, Doctor." He says, gravely, "So that everyone here is fully aware of what you're saying. The Q-Drive can literally transport you - in an instant - anywhere in the universe? There are no range limitations?"

"Ja. It can you to any place you vish to go." Gustav pauses, then mutters in a musing tone, "Perhaps even any time."

"Marvellous." Ivanov nods, "I just wanted to ensure that you are all clear on the capabilities of the drive. Now, as I said, we've installed the Q-Drive into the Pathfinder, a Scout-class vessel. We chose her for her speed, reliability, and range. Unfortunately, she's a little small, so you will be rather crowded together during the mission."

"What a shame." Captain Fury's contemplative smile, still firmly fixed on S'Ondra, makes it clear that he doesn't find this troubling at all.

"We've also had to remove the standard laser-defence grid, in order to accommodate the drive."

"What?" Fury receives this news with far less equanimity. "You did what? What will we do for weapons? Your actions are in direct violation of Space Force regulation two-one-seven, paragraph three, section -""

Ivanov gives his insubordinate subordinate an icy stare,

"No Space Force ship has fired a shot in anger in sixteen months, Captain." He interrupts, his tone brooking no argument, "In light of that, the Ministry approved a special dispensation to waive the regulation, for the purposes of this mission. There simply isn't room on the Pathfinder for any weapons."

"I bet there would be if we dumped some of his junk." Fury gives a disgruntled thrust of his jaw toward Doctor Gustav, who appears oblivious to the argument, and is busily scribbling on a creased handkerchief with a stub of pencil.

"As I sought," he mutters, "to miniaturise ze Particle Analyser, all one would need is to improve ze -"

"If I could have your attention." Ivanov raises his voice, glaring around the room. Fury subsides, and even the Doctor looks up, once S'Ondra nudges him in the ribs. "As I said: the laser-grid has been removed. The gravitic shields, on the other hand, are still installed. These will protect the vessel from any foreseeable danger, as well as providing you with artificial gravity throughout the mission."

"Are there any other equipment issues we should know about?" Fury asks, in terse tones.

"You should find that you have everything else you need, in abundance." Ivanov replies, "We've even included a full year's worth of food supplies, miniaturised and concentrated: far more than you could possibly require for an eight-day mission such as this." He glances at his watch, "Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I need to check on the arrangements for the press conference. I will return in a few minutes. I suggest you use the time to get better acquainted."

As Ivanov leaves, S'Ondra turns to Fury, acknowledging his presence for the very first time.

"We all already know each other." She informs him, frostily, "So I guess you're the only stranger here. I am Venusian Princess S'Ondra. You may address me as 'Princess'."

"Like to be in charge, eh?" Fury gives a suggestive grin, then thrusts out his hand, suddenly business-like, "Captain John Fury, Princess. Call me 'John'. I'm sure we'll get to know each other very well in the next week or so."

Doctor Gustav blinks owlishly,

"Was that an improper advance?" he 'whispers' to Archie, his voice actually loud enough to be heard throughout the room.

"Not quite, Doctor." The robot observes Fury with a remarkably evident distaste, given his complete inability to have a facial expression. "Though I would caution the Princess against touching his hand. Scans indicate there are over four-hundred different bacteria present on his palm, alone."

"Goot." The Doctor flips through a notebook, only half-listening to the conversation, "My vife left very strict instructions regarding ze improper advances. Keep your eyes open for zem, Archie."

"This is my guardian, Doctor Gustav, and his assistant, Archie." S'Ondra introduces the pair, though Fury seems oblivious to anyone but her. "The Doctor invented the Q-Drive, as you know, and Archie is indispensable to his work. As for myself, I am the official Venusian representative on the mission. Tell me, what was your function, again?"

"Well, Princess, I'll be the pilot." Fury smiles, "I'll take you for a ride you'll never forget."

S'Ondra ignores the double-entendre,

"A pilot, you say? I'd heard that these new Space Force ships are so nearly automated that they can be piloted by a trained monkey." Her tone suggests that she'd prefer the hypothetical simian be on the mission than Fury.

"I'm the best Space Force has to offer!"

"Really? I had no idea things were that bad. Budget cuts, again?"

 

[Piratecat]

I wouldn't trade Captain Fury for a hyperintelligent space monkey...

but I'd sure consider it.

 

[dpdx]

Oooh - if the shields go down for any ole reason, everybody gets to float around!

Now back to your regularly scheduled commercial: K-Tel's That's What I Call Polka, available on 8-track, or LP!

 

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 5

The door to the office slides open and Ivanov re-enters, forestalling any reply from the now furious Fury.

"All acquainted? Marvellous." He claps his hands together, "I just have time to give you a detailed timetable for the mission, and we'll be ready for the press conference to begin. Now, you'll be launching at oh-eight-hundred-hours tomorrow, then taking the standard flight path out to Pluto - that means over the rings of Saturn, Captain. The journey will take thirty-six hours, at which point you'll radio back to confirm your position, and activate the Q-Drive. I believe the Doctor has chosen the Andromeda Cluster as your destination -"

"Ja. It will be beautiful at zis time of year."

"- where you will spend eight hours collecting samples of space matter with the ship's hydraulic arm, before activating the Q-Drive and returning to our solar system. Once you're back, send a radio message to let us know, and we'll have the celebration ready by the time you make it back here. All clear?"

The four acknowledge that all is clear.

"Marvellous." Ivanov seems fond of the word, "Now: about the Press Conference. All the usual Earth papers are there, as well as the Luna Herald. The reporter from the Venusian Tribune -"

"Yay!" S'Ondra beams.

"- couldn't make it." Ivanov shrugs, uncomfortably, "Some kind of problem with departure visas, I believe. Unfortunately, the Venusian Centurion did send a representative. As you would know Princess, that particular paper was very hostile toward your family, before their unfortunate demise. He's been cautioned against raising political issues, but I hope you'll act responsibly if he attempts to insult you."

S'Ondra scowls, but nods her agreement. Ivanov, plainly uncomfortable with her reluctant acquiescence, but with no other alternative but to grin and bear it - as he hopes the Princess will do - ushers the four into the Press Room.

They are met by a barrage of flash-bulbs, which fizz and pop repeatedly as the prospective spacefarers take their seats. They have been placed behind a long, flat table, with a microphone in front of each of them. Within moments of reaching his chair, Doctor Gustav has produced a small screwdriver and has largely disassembled his microphone, sorting the various small pieces into what appear to be colour-coded piles.

Ivanov signals that questions may begin, and a forest of hands shoots up. He gestures to a young woman near the front of the room. She has dark hair and a round face, and a sort of bland prettiness that is slightly marred by an oddly pugnacious nose.

"Sarah-Jane Parker of the Luna Herald." She identifies herself, "I have a question for Captain Fury."

"Young lady, I'm sure I have your answers." Fury smiles expansively, resting his forearm on the table and presenting his best profile to the cameras.

The young reporter simpers, earning a disgusted grumble from S'Ondra. Distracted from her original question by this, the reporter smiles brightly at the Princess,

"Venusian Princess S'Ondra - if I may delay my question to you for a moment, Captain?"

Fury nods his permission with a graceful bow of his head,

"Princess, you must be very thrilled to be sharing this mission ... on such a small vessel ... with the famous Captain Fury. How does it feel to know that you're the envy of women throughout Mission City - including this very room?" the reporter faces S'Ondra, but her last four words are very clearly directed at the Captain.

"What?" S'Ondra makes a show of never having considered the matter, "Well ... I'm sure he's an adequate pilot."

"Thank you, Princess." Sarah-Jane acknowledges the response without really listening to it, immediately returning her gaze to the Captain, who now lounges back in his chair, giving her the come-hither look he likes to describe as "set phasers to stun".

"Captain," the reporter giggles girlishly, "As I mentioned, you're considered Mission City's most handsome and most eligible bachelor. Hundreds of women throughout the city will be watching you leave on this mission, tomorrow, wishing that you'd spent your last night here with them. Do you have anything you'd like to say to them all?"

"Why, certainly." Fury leans forward, upping his stare to 'kill'. "I'd just like to let them all know that it's the thought of all those beautiful women I've never met that gets me through these missions. Knowing that everything I do, I do to protect them, and this free and democratic society of ours, gets me right here." He thumps his chest, over his heart, "I salute you all, beautiful women."

The reporter beams, her eyes misty as meets the Captain's gaze, which seems to promise that every word was meant just for her. Hundreds of others, watching the interview on TV, share similar expressions and beliefs.

"And may I ask, Captain, if - on your safe return from your long and lonely mission - you would be willing to do a personal interview with me - with the Luna Herald?"

"I'd love to." Fury gives her a thumbs-up sign.

For a moment, Sarah-Jane Parker continues to stand, staring worshipfully at the brave and lusty Captain. Then, with a small whimper, she collapses back to her seat.

There is a moment of silence, broken only by Doctor Gustav's soft mumble, as he arranges bit of microphone into small pyramids, before Commander Ivanov clears his throat,

"Are there any other questions?"

 

[ledded]

gold...

gold... just pure gold....

I *love* this thread...

 

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 6

A tall, bearded man in a tweed suit is the first to raise his hand, and Ivanov calls on him for his question. The man stands, seeming almost to unwind from his chair,

"I am Heinz Reikel of ze Berlin Express." He identifies himself, "Und my question is for ze goot Doctor."

"Eh?" Doctor Gustav, still fascinated with the innards of his microphone, looks up after a less than subtle nudge from Archie, "Vhat is it?"

"Herr Doctor," Reikel poises a sleek black pen over his notepad, "I vas vondering if you could explain to us ze reason why you haf chosen to bring ze girl and ze robot on ze mission with you."

"We want him to actually come back." Archie volunteers. Gustav gives him a perplexed look, then leans forward to use the robot's microphone, as his own is still in pieces.

"I can answer zis question." He announces, "First, Archie is most important to ze mission, because he is a vital assistant to me in my vork. Second, S'Ondra is most important to ze mission, because she is Venusian. Ve vill be able to study ze effects of ze Q-Drive on her physiology." He pats S'Ondra's hand, "Von't be Leibchen?"

S'Ondra nods dutifully, while glaring death rays at the journalist who has questioned her right to be on the mission.

"Plus!" Gustav waves a finger in the air as a though occurs to him, "Plus, taking her along on ze mission will mean that I am nearby to keep her safe." He pats his pockets, as if looking for something, "My vife vas most insistent on ze matter of S'Ondra's saftery ... she put it on ze list at least three times ..."

Reikel frowns; an expression that comes naturally to his features,

"You're taking her across ze solar system and zen to another galaxy, 'to keep her safe'? Doesn't zat seem a little counter-productive?"

"Not at all, Herr Reikel." Captain Fury leans forward, "I'll be there to look after her, remember."

"But -"

"Safe." Fury repeats, sternly, and Reikel subsides with a small whimper that is eerily reminiscent of Sarah-Jane Parker's.

"Next!" Ivanov calls, evidently eager to get onto a new topic. He points to a bespectacled man in the front row, "You, sir."

"Yes, um, good." The man stands, fidgeting with his belongings, "Hmm. My, um, question. Yes. My question. Oh ... I'm Percival Smythe of the New Scientific Review. I suppose I should, um, mention that. Now, my question -"

"Would get answered much more quickly if you actually asked it." Archie suggests.

"What? Hmmm, yes. Actually, hmmm, my question is for you." The man shuffles his belongings again, then clears his throat, obviously reading from the bit of paper he's just found, "Do you R-CHI 23QX9, believe that your inclusion on this mission is an important issue in the campaign for robotic rights? Do you feel you are making a political statement through your inclusion? Is that your purpose in accompanying the Doctor?" Smythe stops, "Oh my ... was that one question, or three?"

"My purpose in accompanying Doctor Gustav," Archie notes, flatly, "Is to keep him safe. And clean."

"Ah." Smythe pauses, glances in confusion at his notes, and then gives a half-shrug, "Well, um, thank you for your time." He then, to the palpable relief of all in the room, sits down.

"If that is all -" Ivanov begins, clearly intending to bring the press session to a close.

"I have a question." The representative of the Venusian Centurion surges to his feet. He is a squat, bad-tempered looking fellow, with a flattened nose, and wears a heavy metal breastplate, plus a fur-crested helmet. He jabs a finger at S'Ondra,

"How can the United Earth Government condone the inclusion of a notorious Venusian traitor and wanted criminal on a mission of this importance and sensitivity?"

 

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 7

Captain Fury is on his feet before anyone else can react.

"You will not speak to her that way." his words are not loud, but they are spoken with such force that there is not a single person in the room who does not hear them. Fury stalks out from behind the table, hand resting lightly on the grip of his Atomic Pistol. That could be unintentional, but no-one fools themselves for a second that it is.

"Princess S'Ondra is a valuable and necessary member of the mission crew." The Captain speaks the words quietly, without the venom of a few moments below, but there is no doubt at the flint-hard conviction behind them. "You will give her the respect she deserves, fellow, or I shall have you removed."

"I am a member of the Press Corps!" the Venusian sputters, brandishing his plastic name badge, "I have a right to be here."

"As does the Princess." Fury answers, "Do not compromise your own rights by challenging hers. I suggest you sit down."

For a moment, the Venusian's eyes narrow, as he considers the human before him. Fury is an inch or so taller, but the Venusian is broader of build, with a barrel-like chest and stocky limbs. Then he looks into Fury's own eyes, and sees the steel within them.

With only a half-hearted mutter of resentment, the Venusian subsides into his chair. For a long moment, Fury continues to regard him. Then he lets his hand slip from the pistol by his side, and turns back to the shocked and silent journalists, a wide and pleasant smile on his face.

"Folks, it's been great to talk to you. Tom -" he singles out a dark-skinned vid-journo, "I haven't seen you down at the R-ball Courts in a while. Come down for a game, or you'll be getting flabby."

Tom waves off this remark, and pats his steel-hard torso, but Fury has already moved on, greeting people by name, slapping shoulders and asking about children. The ugly confrontation of a moment before slips from people's minds.

Most people's, anyway. S'Ondra sits at the table, imperiously ignoring the continued glare of the Venusian journalist, who is alone in not receiving any of Fury's bonhomie. For a moment, as she regards the Captain, her face softens. But then Fury reaches Sarah-Jane Parker, and while the kiss he gives her cheek is perfectly chaste, the placement of his hands as he does so is anything but. S'Ondra's mask of cold indifference slams back into place, and she tosses her head angrily, before rising to her feet and walking to the exit.

Somehow, Fury makes it to the door before her, holding it open so she can pass through. He gives her a melodramatic half-bow as he does so, lips still quirking with that boyish grin he does so well. S'Ondra stops.

"Thank you for your assistance, Captain." Her words are a polite formality; a Princess thanking a servant who has been useful. "It was most appreciated."

"For you Princess, anything." The words come in a tone of complete sincerity, but there is a smudge of lipstick near the Captain's ear. S'Ondra keeps her eyes on that, as she coldly nods an acknowledgement, before sweeping out of the room.

Fury, touching the point where he saw her looking, smears the red cosmetic across his fingertips.

"Damnation." he mutters, then shrugs and plucks out a handkerchief to wipe them clean. By the time he turns back to the room, his best smouldering look is back in place. "Miss Parker! I'm really looking forward to that interview you mentioned. Would dinner next Saturday night be a suitable time? There's a new French restaurant just opened on Gagarin Street. I was thinking about giving it a try, but it's such a bore to go alone. Perhaps you'd like to keep me company?"

 

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 8

The next morning, the four crew members are driven out of the city to the space port, where the gleaming silver shape of the XS-Pathfinder has pride of place upon the launch pad.

"She's a real beauty." Fury enthuses, "Fastest thing we have. Earth to Pluto in thirty hours."

"Did not Commander Ivanov say thirty-six?" Doctor Gustav wonders his eyebrows beetling, "Ja. I am sure that he did."

"Depends on the quality of your piloting, really." The Captain replies in airy tones, as their car draws to a halt at the foot of the Pathfinder's stairs. The four exit the vehicle, Fury emerging last, a small metal crate tucked under one arm. "Emergency supplies." He tells the guard by the stairs, walking past before the man has a chance to react, "In case the MDR fails."

"MDR?" S'Ondra has not heard the term.

"Ze Matter Deconstitution and Reconstitution device, Leibchen." Doctor Gustav follows the Captain up the stairs, then turns to watch as Archie trundles into the ship through the aft cargo entrance, "For ze food."

Within a few minutes, the crew are all safely aboard the vessel and settled in. As they have been warned, the quarters aboard the ship are quite small, though some effort does seem to have been made to ensure they are as comfortable as possible.

"Launch in ten minutes." The radio crackles. Fury leans forward and flips a switch,

"Roger that, Tower." He flips the switch again, then turns back to face the others, "Strap yourself in, folks. We've just got the usual flight checks to go through, and we'll be on our way."

As S'Ondra buckles herself into her seat, she has to admit that the Captain cuts a dashing figure in his uniform, even with the bulky atomic pistol hanging by his side. Clipping her heat lance - a spear-like weapon capable of firing energy blasts - to the side of her chair, she surreptitiously admires his calm and professional attitude as he runs through the pre-flight checks.

"If only he wasn't such a -" words fail her, and she settles for an articulate exclamation "- the rest of the time."

"Vot vas zat, leibchen?"

"Nothing, Doctor." S'Ondra pretends to study the complicated board of instruments in front of her. Venusians lack Erath's sophistication with technology, and nothing she is looking at has any meaning to her, "I was just wondering what all these things do."

As expected, this distracts the Doctor from his original question. It also means sitting through a long and involved explanation of every knob and dial in sight, but the Princess has long ago learned how to tune out such lectures.

"All clear and confirmed, Tower." Fury snaps his seat belt closed, and pulls back two levers on the controls in front of him. "Launch in T-minus sixty."

"Confirmed, Pathfinder. Good luck and Godspeed."

The voice of Space Port Control fades away, to be replaced by a mechanical sounding countdown. As the count reaches ten, the ship's engines rumble into life, and Fury flicks a couple of last switches.

"Here we go!"

Super-heated Xenon flares from the ship's exhaust ports as the pad tilts, lifting the nose into launch position. The Pathfinder's view screen now looks directly up at the Space Port dome, which cracks open, the two halves sliding apart as the cold emptiness of space howls into the dome. Safe within the ship, S'Ondra's fingers tighten on the arms of her seat.

"Atmosphere vented, Tower?"

"Atmosphere vented, Pathfinder. You may launch when ready."

"Roger. Launching now."

Fury grips the two levers he had previously pulled back into their locked position, and slowly and smoothly presses them forward. The rumble of the engines sharpens into a fearsome whine, and then there is a sudden and deafening ROAR as the ship surges away from the ground.

Despite the noise, the ship's ascent is smooth and graceful. Gauges all over the control board hover just a fraction below the red-line, as Fury pushes the ship right to its very limits - but never over them. The moon falls away with startling speed, and within moments, the Pathfinder is alone in space, hurtling toward the edge of the solar system, and its historic mission.

 

[ledded]

Man, I love this stuff. Keep it coming!

 

[Capellan]

"Blast Off!" - Part 9

In the internal conflict between Fury's piloting skill and his adherence to orders, there can be only one outcome. The Captain cannot help but deviate from the flight path outlined by Commander Ivanov, choosing to slalom through the great rings of Saturn, rather than take the safer - and more boring - option of flying over.

"Are these abrupt changes of course really necessary, Captain?" Archie frowns - an impressive achievement for someone whose expression is static metal, "There have been several unsightly and unhygienic spillages caused by your piloting."

"It would be even more unsightly and unhygienic to be splattered all over one of these rocks." Fury grins broadly as he flips the Pathfinder up and over a particularly erratic asteroid.

"Weren't we supposed to fly over all this?" S'Ondra arches an eyebrow.

Fury has an excuse at the ready,

"It's useful practice for evasive manoeuvres. After all, your Andromeda Cluster could be full of evil space aliens bent on our destruction." The Captain sounds quite pleased at the prospect. "Besides, Pluto's not going anywhere. We'll get there on schedule. Early, in fact. I have to make a delivery."

"Delivery?" Doctor Gustav looks confused, "Vot sort of delivery? I zought zis mission was solely for ze testing of ze Q-Drive."

"We're just going to squeeze this in as well. It's a cost-cutting measure: two missions in one. Besides, these are vital supplies." Fury assures them all with the glib assurance of someone who has used the same line many times before, then changes the subject before anyone can ask any really difficult questions, "So, Doctor, why did you call it the 'Q' drive, anyway?"

Gustav shrugs,

"It vas ze letter I vas up to."

"We do not speak of the C-Drive." Archie intones, his metallic body shuddering slightly.

"Well, don't worry folks. I'll have you in place and ready to test out your contraption at thirty-six hours on the dot." Fury swoops the ship around another asteroid, "Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Oh ... you might want to keep your seat-belts fastened."

With Fury at the controls, the Pathfinder reaches Pluto well over five hours early. Rather than head on toward the designated mission launch point, however, the Captain signals Pluto Base, and then swings the ship down to land a short distance away from the Space Force complex.

Donning his space suit for the short walk to the base, Fury suggests that the others remain aboard the ship,

"I shouldn't be long." He promises, helmet tucked under one arm, "Just need to drop off these supplies." He slaps the box he had previously claimed was for emergency purposes.

"Nein. Ve vill come along." Gustav's voice is muffled by the fact that he is struggling to get into his own suit as he talks. His efforts aren't very successful, until Archie comes to his assistance. "Zank you, Archie. As I vas saying, ve vill come along. Zere are many of my colleagues serving here on ze base, monitoring ze universe for signs of intelligent creatures ... ozzer zan ourselves, of course."

"Of course." Fury gives a slightly tight-lipped smile, then shrugs and turns toward S'Ondra, "Coming, Prin-" his question chokes off as he watches the Venusian Princess all but pour herself into a form-fitting spacesuit. He'd never before realised how undressed a woman could look, without a scrap of flesh showing.

"Of course." The Princess unclamps her heat lance from the side of her chair, "It'll be a good chance to stretch my legs."

Fury, his attention distracted by the very limbs in question, nods mutely.

A minute or so later, the four space travellers emerge from the Pathfinder and make their way across to the airlock of the Pluto Base. Fury carries the large box in his arms, and all four move with slow care, due to the low gravity.

Despite the careful pace, the walk is a short one, and the four are soon within the airlock, waiting for it to pressurise with atmosphere. This process takes only a few seconds, before a green light flashes, and they are able to remove their helmets.

As they do so, the inner door slides open, revealing a statuesque blonde woman in a too-tight Space Force uniform. She leans with feline grace against the corridor wall, dark eyes firmly fixed on Captain Fury.

"Hello, Johnny," she purrs, with a slight lick of her lips, "It's nice to see you again."

S'Ondra growls.