Traveller T20: Tales of the Bray Keaven [Updated 12-20-05]

[Shadowdancer]

Ian looks at the datapad that Argent hands back to him and says with a straight face, "25K? Wow! You know, personally, I've always preferred the fusion variety." As Argent's head whips back from the comm console to look at the Marine, Ian continues. "Just kidding, of course, sir. You certainly have more trust for Marines than a lot of Navy pukes I've had to deal with, given that you don't know me from the Emperor, but never fear, I'll get right on it."

"Right now, time is of the essence," Argent says. "We need to be as prepared for this job as we possibly can, but we want to look like a relief effort, not an invasion squad."

"You know sir, story is that Alief is a war zone now, and I'd imagine the cargo we're carrying is gonna be pretty valuable to however damn many sides there are over there -- I hope Captain Anderson is taking that into consideration. We may not need autocannon and PGMP's, but if things drop in the pot, we’re gonna want ‘em."

"Agreed, but hopefully all we’ll have to do is defend ourselves. Oh, on your list, add a laser carbine and a couple extra laser pistol power packs, three laser carbine power packs, a few autopistols and rounds for auto and snub pistols. And double-check with Dr. Talbek to see if he needs any additional supplies or equipment for this job."

With that, Ian turns and heads back downship to find Vasilii. "Hope he's got some connections on station who can expedite some of this stuff, or we’ll be out of luck," he thinks.

On the way to the cargo bay, Ian hits the comm again. "Darishun? This is Ian. Do you happen to have a vacc suit tailored to your needs? I might have a hard time finding one for you, if not."

-----​

As he lifts yet another crate marked "isolation thermal plastic," Darishun barely hears the loud shivok’s voice over the intercom: "Darishun? This is Ian. Do you happen to have a vacc suit tailored to your needs? I might have a hard time finding one for you, if not."

Darishun pauses in his efforts to amble over to the comm to reply: "Yes, good Ian. I do have a vacc suit for my needs. Thank you for asking."

At this point, Darishun remembers Vasilii might be going on a shopping trip, so he takes a break and plods off to his quarters to retrieve a list of supplies needed to convert a standard cabin to something that might survive having a Virushii in it for some period of time and 5,000 credits. He then tracks down Vasilii.

Vasilii is sitting in the lounge working at a computer console. He’s querying datalinks to find local businesses that can provide the much-needed equipment.

After finding Vasilii poring over his current shopping list, Darishun softly says, "Good merchant, if I may add my little list of supply requests to the ones that you already have. The list contains some items, marked in order of priority, that I would appreciate having to adapt the top forward, port cabin a little closer for my needs. I can certainly do without the supplies, but it would help me avoid accidentally damaging the shipping concern's cabin with an accidental tail flick. Here are 5,000 credits, which should more than cover the list of supplies. I would certainly put my list of supplies as last on any of our cooperative's needs."

Darishun continues in a conversational tone, "I must commend you on finding these rations on such short notice. They perhaps do not have as much roughage as I would prefer, but they certainly make handy snacks!"

Vasilii responds, "Thank you Mr. Darishun. I must admit, it is quite a challenge trying to find the proper rations for a sophont such as yourself. I'll do what I can to help you with your accommodation
concerns."

With this, Darishun wanders back to moving cargo about, humming softly to himself.

"He’s a polite individual," Vasilii thinks. "Now back to the acquisitions."

Vasilii continues to scroll through the datalinks, finds the appropriate sites, submits equipment requests with delivery times and asks for price quotes. He contacts those he knows and pressures them a bit to give him a good deal and quick service (After all, a happy client is a repeat client). After he finds as much as he can he turns on the comm link on the ship.

"Captain Argent, Kugiikiishshi," Vasilii awaits a confirmation. "Did the Commander of the fleet or any of his subordinates provided us with any of the equipment we requested? I'm about to make some equipment acquisitions we require but I do not what to purchase items we have been given. Did they give us any of the following items?" He reads off the needed items.

-----​

When he arrives at the cargo bay, Ian will split the list with Vasilii, giving him the items that are more likely to be available via a merchant's connections.

Vasilii’s items:
Iris valve emergency key (Cr 25 – not milspec, so cheap)
Low Berth shock kit (Cr 100)
Three emergency vacc suits (all were missing from their assigned locations) (Cr 3000)
Two CO2 Fire Extinguishers (Cr 50)
Two Water Fire Extinguishers (Cr 40)
Assorted electrical components (Cr 200)
Assorted mechanical components (Cr 400)

Ian’s items:
Vacc suits for any crewmember who doesn’t already own one.
Nine combination masks, one for each crew member (Alief has a standard, tainted atmosphere) (Cr 1350)
One TL 13 field medical kit (Cr 2500)
Three TL 13 first aid kits (Cr 1500)
One case 20 smoke grenades (Cr160) -- for marking Air/Raft Landing Zones
Three WTO ‘Double-12' Shotguns (Cr 450)
Six boxes buckshot 50 rounds (Cr 300)
Three EnviroCombat ‘Combat Snub' Snub Pistols (Cr 750)
10 Boxes (500 rounds) Tranq ammo (Cr 500)
10 Boxes (500 rounds) AP ammo (Cr 500)

Total Expenditure: Cr 11,825 not including vacc suits

Ian uses his contacts in the local military as well as his Streetwise connections to arrange purchase of the paramilitary equipment.

 

[Shadowdancer]

With 12 hours left before the scheduled jump, Argent starts to make a check of the ship’s status. He starts in the engine room, and immediately notices Martha’s exhaustion. He sends her off for six hours of sleep and pitches in to help Vargas with work on the power plant and engines.

Emile straightens up, lifts his cap from his head and wipes his brow. As he stretches, a series of crunches come from his back, and Rusti Jerks awake from where he is curled up in the toolbag. "Go back to sleep you ball of trouble, I guess I was just hunched over too long."

Argent looks up from his console. While doing a walk through six hours before, he had offered to lend a hand and had now spent six hours straight reading off number and throwing relays. "Next." His voice was still jaunty, but this would teach him to ask if there was anything he could do to help.

" ‘Fraid there is no next," Vargas says. "The jump drive is ready to tear a rift in the fabric of space itself and throw us to wherever you tell it to go."

Argent looks at him appraisingly. "Two quick questions."

"Fire away El Commandante," Emile's fundamental good humor was starting to re-assert as he realized that he was still a damn fine engineer.

"Firstly, are you happy with the drive? Do you trust it?"

Emile thinks for a moment. He's been on his feet for 20 hours, had the emotional whipsaw of the news of the plague pilled on top of being jerked out of a planned holiday. Nevertheless, he feels fairly good about himself -- one of the reasons he'd joined the Scout Service was to dash across the galaxy rescuing people. "Given that it's not a milspec drive, we'll be doing a single standing jump, we'll have time out for maintenance at the other end and the fuel was grade 3 refined, I reckon this crate will have a nice gentle jump."

"Second question. What else needs doing?"

Emile wracks his brain for a while. "I haven’t had a look at the life support, Swann wandered off to do that. The powerplant is pretty good. Internals are OK generally. My side of it is fine."

Argent nods, thinking, "Looks like this side of the team could carry its
weight." "In that case, crash and I'll wake you a couple of hours before jump. You'll think clearer rested and I still haven't decided whether the ship is ship–shape."

-----​

Swann opens the access panels to the ship's life support system. A stale, fetid odor assaults his nostrils. He wrinkles his nose in disgust, sneezes, then coughs as he covers his nose with the sleeve of his work coveralls.

"Frell! This smells as bad as a sewage treatment plant."

He pulls a filter mask from one of the coveralls' cargo pockets, pours a few drops from a bottle of aftershave into the mask and puts it on -- a little trick he'd learned as a Belter to overcome the smell of a rank life support system.

"That's a little better. Now let's see what we can see." He pokes and prods around inside the equipment, checks the supplies. "Seems the Navy has brought in new O2 bottles and CO2 scrubbers. Good, wouldn't want to use the old stock, it might be full of that bug or whatever it was killed the crew. And they pumped out the waste collection container when they did the decontamination. Good, that's a nasty job I won't have to do. Well, this shouldn't take too long. I'd better get started -- I'm curious to have a have look at that computer."

During the next 60 minutes working in the cramped confines, Swann connects fresh O2 bottles, replaces the scrubbers with new units and services the waste reclamation equipment. There is grease, dirt and moisture smeared across the front of his coveralls, and his face. He backs out of the cramped compartment, takes a clean rag out of his back pocket, and wipes off his face and hands.

"There, that should do it. Now let's crank this baby up and see how she runs."

He walks over to the ship's communicator on the wall and hits the button for a ship-wide channel. "This is Swann. I'm about to turn on the life support system to test it. So rest assured that the smell you are about to notice is not a dead Bashtu swamp rat in the ventilation system."

He turns on the system and checks all the gauges to make sure it is running properly.

-----​

Vargas rolls over in his bunk and, barely waking, mumbles, "Uhhh. I've smelled worse. . . a Sooly that didn't make port for four months. . . kind with the bad scrubbers. . . whew. . ."

-----​

Argent peers into the Cargo bay to watch some organized mayhem.

Vasilii seems to have arranged things well. Vasilii would retrieve prep and confirm cargo, the Doc would check the contents for accuracy, then Darishun would move it. A lot seemed to be disappearing down the cargo Lift. From memory the only thing down there was staterooms. Clearly someone had decided they didn’t need the full complement.

"This group even had initiative," Argent thinks. "First that Scout turns out to be a drive-engineer guru, now people were thinking ahead. Life was good. If only they would stop wailing that awful noise, it sounded like a Vargr in pain."

Backing out slightly he re-enters the room, making noise so as not to startle. "Well, how close to the invoices are we?"

Vasilii looks down to check while the others continue their merry way. "We're a solid third of the way through. So far we haven't found anything in the cargo that isn't in the invoices. We've had about a dozen alternate supplies. Doctor Talbek says that they are the same product, but they don't quite match the signed good. For example, the emergency building was produced by Sternmetal rather than LifeCo. The Sternmetal is a better product, but it's an indicative fault."

"So no problems?"

"So far, everything is going smoothly. Darishun says he has filled one of the forward staterooms so we'll be able to clear the corridors. With a couple of days heavy lifting, I will set up access routes so that all the cargo is accessible. According to the expected volume we shouldn't be quite this overloaded. It is difficult to guess, given the lack of organization on the original pack. I think we are probably 3 tons over our inventory. We won't know till everything has been cataloged."

"And how long till?"

"It's difficult to know. Possibly another solid day for three people. There is a limit to how quickly we can go. Only the Doctor and Darishun seem to have any medical skills, so they are the bottleneck. I've been listing the other deficiencies with the ship as they are brought to my attention. When would you like them presented?"

Argent bites back a response. "Now would be a good time. I'm hoping to have a delivery from groundside shortly."

"Perhaps it would be more efficient if you were to organize the cargo bay and I assist the gathering of supplies?"

Argent sighs. Being Captain was all glamour, first reading numbers curled around a slimy engine, now supercargo. Still, must remember efficiency. Some sleep would be good as well. Jump was only six hours away so better to just keep going till then.

"OK, Mr. McConnell is in the bridge talking to Sentry, perhaps you would like to join him?"

Vasilii turns to the Doctor and Darishun, "It's been a pleasure working with you, I leave you in the Captain's capable hands" and walks out to the bridge.

Argent turns to the other two. The Doctor was still working away, it looked as if he could keep going through a bulk freighter’s worth of medical supplies, and Darishun looked as if he was made of wood. Was he the only tired one here?

 

[Shadowdancer]

Chapter IV​

Date: 110-993

Place: Aboard the Bray Keaven, in orbit around Sentry.​

Swann sits down at one of the bridge workstations and places his fingers lightly, almost reverently, upon the computer keyboard. "A Naasirka model 1bis," he thinks, appraising the machine. "Should be pretty basic. Too bad they didn't upgrade to a model 2 -- then they could have upgraded the sensors and comms for better range. Might as well be flying blind, deaf and dumb. Well, let's see what we can see."

He logs onto the ship's computer and starts searching through the OS. He quickly finds a tag under the fuel scoops saying they are sealed and should not be used. "Hmmmm. I'll have to ask Martha about that. We should really get that fixed. We might need to dip into a gas giant for an emergency refueling. So, let's take a look at the avionics."

Swann calls up the flight avionics system. All the controls appear to be in the green. He calls up the astrogation calculator to make sure it works OK. He first uses the system to determine the Bray Keaven’s location. That checks out. Then he plots a standard course from their position in orbit around Sentry to the planet’s middle moon, Ruria. That appears to be correct. He then plots a jump route to Alief, and checks it against the ship’s last jump to that system from Sentry. "Close enough. That would get us in the neighborhood," he says to himself when the calculations come up. "OK, Astrogation looks good. I know the comm is working -- Argent was using it earlier. Let's check out the sensors.

"Hmmmm, only one ship within 15,000 kilometers of us. A far trader, the Pirouette, registered out of Sentry to a Captain Diana Staha. Guess she got pulled into this rescue mission just like us. I guess no one else wants to get close to us. Don't blame them -- they probably think we're contagious."

Swann rubs a hand across his face and sits looking at the terminal screen a while, thinking. "Well, I should probably take a look at that fuel scoop next. We might need those. And one of the turrets isn’t working. I don't know if we’ll need them on this mission, but I'd sure feel better knowing we can defend ourselves fully. I also remember seeing a big red X taped onto one of the low berths. I’ll look at that later, maybe when we’re in jump. Hopefully, we won’t need it right away, and I’ll probably need the Doc’s help with that, and he’s pretty busy right now."

Swann pushes a button on the ship’s communicator and calls down to the engineering room. Emile answers.

"Emile, this is Swann. Is Argent still down there with you?"

"Nope. Try the cargo hold."

Swann switches channels and pings cargo. A few moments later there is a reply: "Argent here."

Swann hesitates. "Do I call him ‘Captain’ or ‘Argent’ or what?" he thinks to himself. "We need to establish some protocol." He keys the communicator.

"This is Swann. I wanted to report in, let you know that the life support system and the computer system both check out. They’re good to go as far as getting us to Alief and back. While I was checking out the computer, I discovered that the fuel scoops are not working. I need to talk to Martha to find out what is wrong with them, and whether we can fix them. Is she down there with you?"

"I sent Martha to bed several hours ago. She could barely stand up. Is it really necessary to disturb her?"

"Well, I’d sure feel better having those fuel scoops working before we leave, if they can be fixed. We might need them to get back here in an emergency situation."

"OK, go ahead and wake her. Maybe she’s gotten enough rest. If you haven’t had a rest period yet, take one ASAP. Otherwise, go ahead and work on the fuel scoops. If you need anything further, check with Mr. McConnell or me. I’ll be checking systems elsewhere on the ship."

Swann punches in Martha’s room. "Martha, this is Swann. Sorry to wake you, but I have some questions. What’s wrong with the fuel scoops, and can they be fixed?"

-----​

The ship screams as air whistles out of her stateroom. The Captain, his face dripping blood, coldly calls "Martha." She leaps for the vacc suit stand, looking past the Captain, out of the ship to an asteroid painted with a skull and crossbones. She feels small furry arms grab her feet before she can reach the suit and she slams into the floor. The Cold Voice calls again "Martha, are you OK?"

Lying on the floor in her room, halfway towards her vacc suit with a quilt tangling her legs, she wakes up. The intercom pings again. "What’s wrong with the fuel scoops, and can they be fixed?"

"Ahmm, Captain said he didn’t believe in fuel scoops, he didn’t trust fuel we processed ourselves so there’s a shroud welded over the intakes. Reduces our drag coeff a fair chunk. He kept on threatening to sell the processors, apparently they are pristine and they’ve been mothballed so there’s no maintenance to do on ’em."

She scratches the sleep out of her eyes as Swann asks again, "So when did you last run the diagnostic?"

"I don’t think I ever have. Captain ran one every six months and he said it was OK. He was no Leonardo, so I wouldn’t really trust them without a full strip down. Why, I thought we were going to the fuelling depot at Alief?"

Swann sighs. Maybe she lived her whole life in Bray Corp, but he liked contingency plans. "OK, talk to you later."

-----​

Swann sits back in his chair, stunned into disbelief. "He didn’t believe in fuel scoops? He didn’t BELIEVE in fuel scoops?! He must've been mad," Swann thinks to himself. "It’s a good thing that captain is already dead -- otherwise, I’d have to kill him myself. To put his ship and his crew into that kind of danger was . . . was . . . what was the word? Reckless. Criminally reckless."

Swann rubs a hand across his face and stares at the Naasirka's screen, considering. "I’m pretty beat, but I wonder . . . do I have time for a quick session of Wizard War before I grab some sleep?"

He didn't believe in fuel scoops . . . a shroud welded over the intakes . . . threatening to sell the processors . . . pristine . . . mothballed . . . no maintenance to do . . . Captain ran one every six months and he said it was OK . . .

Swann bolts upright in his chair. "Damn it! I must be getting brain addled," he thinks. "That’s what going 18 hours without sleep will do to you. I should’ve thought of this sooner."

He jumps out of his chair and heads through the bridge access. In the darkened dayroom he brushes past Ian, who appears to be headed toward the bridge. He cuts across to the port side and starts down the companionway, past piles of cargo crates and through the iris valves toward the aft engine room and fuel scoops. On the way, he continues to consider the situation, his mind racing down the possibilities.

"Ah, maybe there was a method to the dearly departed Captain’s madness," Swann thinks. "There are very few reasons I can think of for a sane starship captain to deprive himself of a critical piece of machinery such as fuel scoops. And they all involve money.

"A, maybe he sold them as he’d threatened to do. But I doubt he could’ve done that without Martha knowing.

"B, he sealed them off so he could use the space to haul more cargo. There wouldn’t be much room if the processors are still there, but it would be enough to carry some small packages, especially if the contents were very valuable.

"Which brings us to C, smuggling. The fuel scoops, if inoperable, would make a perfect spot to carry contraband. And that would explain why he never let Martha run the diagnostic on the system. He didn’t want her to know what he was up to."

Swann enters the engine room, grabs a wrench off the toolrack on the wall, and heads to the port side fuel scoop and processor.

He passes Vargas beavering away at the power plant. Every now and again Vargas calls things like "Blue wire," and a wire would poke itself from behind a console for him to grab and wire in. Swann stops in shock -- A telekinetic onboard their ship. Frellin' mind readers preying on the helpless!

"Red Wire." This time, instead of the wire, a small furry head pops up, shaking its head. "It might have a yellow stripe down it." The little head ducks back behind the console.

Swann, shaking his head, moves toward the fuel processor. He needs sleep, but this is silly. Who expects animals helping with engineering!

He stands in front of the first suspect fuel processor. He starts unloosening the bolts to the processor’s maintenance hatch. "Well, let's just see what we can see here." With the controls clustered at the fore end, pipes leading out the back, a huge cylinder -- perfect for a volume replacement. Yes, it was all nicely sealed up and blinking the correct sequences. "Mmm. If it were smuggling, there should be a compartment somewhere," he thinks.

Feeling along the fore edge, a click warns him something is happening. Stepping back in time to notice a slight movement in the side, he catches the door before it swings back closed.

The compartment is a meter square and at least two meters deep. The old Captain must have run air vents into the processor because there is definitely conditioning in the space. Currently it held four small shrubs in racks under lights. The Captain was smuggling bonsai?

The four little orange trees are covered in blooms and have the knotted bark that Swann associates with a high–value bonsai. He isn't familiar with this particular breed or why the captain thought he must conceal them. But Swann knows bonsai were high–value cargo.

There was dust clogged all over the vent -- it hadn’t been cleaned for months. That explains at least why the air pump had been straining. If he had been more alert he would have spotted the oxygen lines going in. There was still something nagging at him, something he should know. What to do next?

First things first, he clicks the door closed and heads over starboard, through the cargo bay -- everyone still working away. Did nobody else sleep?

He arrives at the starboard processor and spots the oxygen lines. "Yes, this one was outfitted the same way." A decent search would have found the compartments. Swann had seen lots of better ways to hide things, but it should work, out here in the backwaters.

He opens the sealed compartment. There is no rack of lights. Peering inside briefly, with the aid of a small flashlight, Swann notices there are no plants, either. He hears footsteps on the deck behind him and quickly pulls his head out of the compartment, then pushes the small door shut.

 

[Shadowdancer]

"If you haven’t had a rest period yet, take one ASAP. Otherwise, go ahead and work on the fuel scoops. If you need anything further, check with Mr. McConnell or me. I’ll be checking systems elsewhere on the ship."

With that, Argent turns back to the hills of cargo containers. Stifling a yawn, he thinks he hears, well, some kind of singing. "Interesting," Argent thinks as he listens to Saro’s Vargr power ballads. "Wonder what he'd do with old Terran pirate songs?" Using the "singing," he locates the doctor, making sure he doesn’t startle or sneak up on Saro or the large sophont assisting him.

Standing up straight to stretch his back, Saro notices for the first time the pained expressions -- in the Virushi's case, he assumes that is a pained expression -- on all the other faces in the cargo hold.

Blushing slightly, he says, "I must apologize. When I get caught up in a task I often forget that others are around. I know that most sophonts don’t find the Vargr concepts of melody, counter–melody and anti–melody as fascinating as I do."

As he rolls his head slowly, alarming crackling noises emit from his neck. "Man, I’ll almost be glad when we jump. After that, there's no point in worrying about what we do and do not have; it’ll be moot, and we can all get some rest. I know I haven’t worked this long a shift in quite some time. But hopefully we’ll get finished here soon."

Darishun pauses for a moment to reply. "Yes, good doctor, I agree. We should do what we need to do while in this system as much as we can and rest later."

Saro turns back to his work and a few moments later, his face wearing a playful grin hidden behind some crate doors, starts to sing old spacer tunes.

"Heigh-Ho! Into space I go. All my creds spent on beer and tobaccy."

Darishun shakes his head sadly with a smile and then says, "Of course, a slight break for a snack would be appropriate. May I get you something from the galley, Doctor?"

The doctor stops singing for a moment. "Yes, something to eat would be fantastic, Mr. Darishun. Perhaps a couple of Go-Go chocolate energy bars, or something similar."

After Darishun shuffles out, the Doc starts right back in with his work. "The captain's gone insane, we'll never see home again. All my creds are spent on beer and tobaccy."

Darishun then plods up to the lounge in order to pick up Saro’s order and a few ration packs for a snack. He’ll munch on one or two before heading back.

 

[Shadowdancer]

Ian sits back in the bridge chair. Swann had been playing with the computer for a while, but the ex-Marine was alone on the bridge at the moment. "Lucky that, it’s nice when nobody overhears you grovel and beg."

First he organizes a ship’s boat organized with a pilot who was game to come up and drop off more supplies. Now that the ship was re-aired, none of the normal delivery people will touch it with a 10 foot docking sleeve. He checks that task off his to-do list.

Second, a friend in the armory is able to divert some "special" supplies up to him. There was a severe edict about shipping weapons to Alief and it had been a choice between work on the permit or work on the access to military hardware. He would rather be tried by 12 men, so there would be a batch of laser carbines coming up. Check.

Thirdly, the list of "fitout" that was missing. He is able to source most of it. But some of the specialist merchant gear was proving difficult. What he needs is someone with connections in that field; otherwise they are going to be shipping short.

The iris valve slides back and Mr. Vasilii steps through. "The Captain thought I could offer some assistance with remedying deficiencies with our fitout."

A broad grin spread across Ian’s face. "Come over here and sit down, sir, I get the feeling that we are going to become very good friends."

-----​

An hour later McConnell commed the Captain. "I’ve got some good news, some bad news, and some very good news."

"Do tell?"

"Well, good news, the vast bulk of our fitout list is on its way up. A friend will be doing the delivery, it should arrive in about two hours, giving us five hours before jump to sit around and drink martinis. The bad news is that he refuses to hard dock with the Keaven so someone will have to EVA to collect it."

"And the great news?"

"One of my friends is doing an upgrade of Gazelle patrol ships. He has assigned me to look after one of the ‘disposals.’ It doesn't belong to us, but there will be an even dozen laser carbines with kit coming up, and nobody has to pay for them."

"That is great news. Anything still outstanding on the list?"

"Well, there’s a fair bit of unimportant stuff. I was able to get a selection of Virushi Carbo-Bites which should help fuel Darishun. The only thing left that worries me is that I could only get one set of emergency iris openers that will work with our doors. If we lose power with the doors shut, it will be a nightmare opening them. I got half a dozen of a similar model, we may be able to modify them, it's worth a try."

"Important enough to stop us jumping?"

"I don’t think we’re battle ready, but I’m happy to jump."

Argent speaks again, his voice sounding much relieved "And do I have any money left?"

"We can talk about that during the jump. McConnell out."

Ian goes to his cabin to crash.

-----​

Argent turns back to the cargo bay; the mound didn’t seem to be any smaller. Darishun was muttering while working, his upper torso fully inside an imaging table. Faintly Argent could hear "Ah, Carbo-Bites again. I was hoping for a nice crate of those Eruil greens. Still, better than looking like poor bloated Risuil who didn't get any roughage for a year. What a mess he made when things finally started moving!" Darishun chuckles to himself at the memory and then continues his examination of the imaging table.

Argent leans back, grinning. If they are complaining about the food, morale must be better than he thought.

 

[Shadowdancer]

After stifling one too many yawns, Argent decides he’d better hit the rack. "Doctor, if you get to a point where you and Mr. Darishun feel you’re comfortable with the inventory before we jump, go ahead and get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to finish during jump. I have to hit the rack prior to departure."

"I’m going to try to get another three hours in, but if I have to, I’ll crash before then," the doctor replies to Argent, his eyes wide and unnaturally bright under the effects of his 10th caffeine-laden Javactose. "Let’s see what we can get done, Mr. Darishun."

"Yes, good doctor, let us see what we can do before we collapse. I would like to do as much as we can now given the gravity of the situation. I am a little tired, but there are things which we must do."

Argent departs from the cargo bay. He first tracks down Swann, who is inspecting the fuel scoops in the starboard engine room. "Mr. Hellinic, have you rested yet? If not, go get some sleep."

Swann rubs his hand across his face, then smiles. "This is one order I think I will have no problem obeying," he thinks. "These plants aren't going anywhere, and they won’t prevent us from leaving on time. I don’t like not having fuel scoops and processors, but I can’t do anything about that now. I’ll tell Argent and the others about this later. Right now, I’m going to bed."

Looking at Argent, he says, "OK, to bed it is."

Swann closes the small door to the hidden compartment and goes to his cabin to get some sleep. He sets an alarm to awaken one hour before time to jump.

-----​

Argent then goes to the bridge and contacts Martha and Vargas. "I hate to do this to you, but since you are the only two who have gotten any rest recently, I need you to off-load the equipment being delivered via EVA since the shuttle is refusing to hard dock. Hopefully it won’t take too long. If you need me, I will be in my cabin getting some sleep."

Argent then leaves the bridge and goes to his cabin. He sets the computer alarm to awaken him one and a half hours prior to departure and then goes immediately to sleep. After five tours in the Navy and then the Scouts, Argent has no problem getting to sleep quickly.

-----​

After assisting McConnell in the bridge, Vasilii makes the short journey to his quarters. Rubbing his eyes as he stumbles down the corridors he gets to his room and heads to the fresher. "My eyes burn and I'm tired." Vasilii has a look in the mirror and sees the red horizontal line across his eyes. "Looking at consoles and holodisplays too much. I better check on cargo."

After a quick face wash Vasilii heads to cargo. A quick yawn, then he enters the cargo hold. "Mr. Darishun (Vasilii does not know if that is his first name or last name), Dr. Talbek," Vasilii begins, "What’s the status of the cargo?" He yawns. "Excuse me. I’ve been thinking of retiring to my quarters for a few hours, but if you require assistance I can help."

"I’m going to head to bed in a few hours myself," Saro says. "The cargo is about one quarter double checked, so we won't even be close to done by the time we jump, even if we all worked on it until then."

Vasilii heads back to his cabin, barely making it into his bunk before falling asleep.

-----​

In the cargo hold, Saro says to Darishun, "Why don't you take your rest? I'm going to rest for a couple hours later, but I want to be awake for jump. Would you like me to wake you then?"

Darishun tilts his head for a moment as if thinking and then responds, "Ah, yes, perhaps you are right. I’ll finish this one crate, and I will go to sleep myself."

The Virushi finishes inventorying his current crate, stops by the lounge for another snack, and then plods off to his cabin. A short while later, muffled reverberations of some large beast snoring can be heard just outside his cabin door.

Summary:

1. The Bray Keaven is now six hours from departure.

2. Jump drives, hydrogen lines, life support, computer, sensors, and communications have been checked and cleared for departure.

3. Equipment has been ordered, but hasn't been delivered at this time. It will arrive in one hour. Crew will have to unload the shuttle bringing the equipment via spacewalk.

4. Vargas and Martha have rested. Everyone else is now asleep, except for Dr. Saro.

5. The cargo manifest is one/fourth double-checked and verified. It should be one-third double-checked by jump.

 

[Broccli_Head]

I'm interested in the former captain's smuggling op. What are those strange bonsai's and what is in smuggling compartment #2?

 

[Shadowdancer]

I'm interested in the former captain's smuggling op. What are those strange bonsai's and what is in smuggling compartment #2?

Never fear, all will be revealed.

Although for the second compartment, that will take awhile. We are currently dealing with that in the actual game.

 

[Shadowdancer]

Date: 110-993

Place: Aboard the Bray Keaven, in orbit around Sentry.

Prior to the arrival of the supply shuttle, Ian awakens, gets dressed, and meets Vargas and Martha at the airlock to assist with the unloading. The transfer of the goods from the shuttle to the Bray Keaven comes off without a hitch.​

Following the delivery of supplies, Vargas engages the Bray Keaven’s maneuver drives and sets a course toward the jump rendezvous. Once the ship has built up momentum, he shuts down the drive and allows the ship to coast.​

With a number of checks complete, Vargas begins several built-in test routines in the hopes of running down any heretofore unnoticed problems with the M-Drive or power plant. The former Scout opens a Breakfast Baggy(tm) he'd scrounged from the galley after his rest break and begins picking through the oddly shaped and/or colored contents. Absentmindedly he offers a chunk of something to the beaker while watching the BIT readouts.​

-----​

​

​

Argent lies down to sleep, closing his eyes. Thirty seconds later his eyes spring open again. His muted alarmed chirps out a wake–up. But he had only just lain down. He drags his eyes open and confirms the time. Yes, some bastard had stolen the five hours he intended to sleep. He lies on the bunk for a moment marshalling his strength and then struggles upright.​

Hair still damp from the wake–up shower he staggers out into the crew passageway. Sticking his head into the cargo bay, he sees Martha and McConnell working at a new pile of cargo.​

"Hey Cap’n, you look like a bucket of spit warmed up. I thought you were going to catch up on some sleep?" McConnell still had the irreverent attitude of a long–service Marine. At least he was a willing worker.​

"So the cargo arrived OK. No problems with the EVA?"​

"No, it was a walk in the park. My buddy left everything tied nice and neat, the other guys cleared the starboard cargo lock, so it was just cash and carry. Did you have a preference for where you wanted the arms? They came in a transport crate which will make a decent gun locker. I was going to put them in my room unless you’ve got a better spot. Any way, Looks like we’ll have everything stowed for jump in about 20 minutes."​

"I’ll just do a walk through, then get back to you about the jump itself."​

Argent strolls out. He might be tired, but having emergency gear and a cheerful XO made the day seem a little less wearisome, and made the air smell sweeter. Or it could just be the new scrubbers.​

He steps onto the bridge and sits in the pilot’s chair. A quick systems check indicates that the M–Drive was off–line. He buzzes the engine room. "Argent here, is everything OK back there?"​

Another cheerful voice answers. "Yes indeedy. I was just going through a Stage 2 pre–flight. Without actually putting the beast through its paces, it looks like there’s a mild instability in thrust when maxed out. I’d look for a slight nose dip if you ever get the thrust near redline, other than that, we’re ship–shape and Glisten fashion."​

"So you’re happy with the drives?"​

"Well, happy is a strong word. We’re still overdue for annual maintenance, and I’d want to rip the entire thing down to parts before I’d be 100 percent convinced that we’re whole. But yes, I’m happy with them. So where do you want to go today?"​

"Alief seems to be the obvious target. I’ll wake everyone at J minus 30; I want everyone at stations for the jump. Not that I don’t trust the ship but . . . "​

"Sounds like good plan. Anyway, I’ll give you back the drives in about 5, I’ve kicked off the one-hour prelim for the jump and everything looks OK. Give me a bell at the half hour, talk to you then."​

"Have fun. Argent out."​

So what else was there? Drives were good, cargo was as checked as it was going to be, and life support seemed OK. Half an hour before the wake–up call, time to put the astro–comp through its paces.​

 

[Shadowdancer]

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