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To: Dan Corrin <dan%engrg.uwo.ca@RELAY.CS.NET>,
        Chuck McKnight <tinylk!1!170!104!chuck.mcknight@TUSUN2.MCS.UTULSA.EDU>,
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Subject: TML Bundle #180: Msgs 2252
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TML Bundles come from the archives of the Traveller Mailing List,
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Date: Sun Apr  7 21:00:17 PDT 1991
From: traveller-request@metolius.wr.tek.com (TML Administrator)
Subject: TML Bundle #180: Table of Contents

-AMN- --Date--- --Sender--------- --Subject-----------------------------------
2254  02-Apr-91 Richard Johnson   PBEM Turn 10.8 (1600++ lines) << Here it is. 

------------------------------

Archive-Message-Number: 2254
Subject: PBEM Turn 10.8  (1600++ lines)
Date: Tue, 2 Apr 91 22:28:21 PST
From: Richard Johnson <richard@agora.rain.COM>


Here it is.  All 1600++ lines of it.  I saw no reason to keep you
folks waiting any longer.  We can just start the Aslan out at day -2 or
something on the next turn.

[In my own defense, I admit I straightened out some confused timeline in
Charyn's bridge interactions.  Hope this doesn't offend anyone -- James]

One of these days we've definitely got ot finish this so we can all compare
notes and compile them.  As good as the public stuff is, the private is
better.

Nominations for great character development:
Lazer, Alliara

Nominations for noisest chracter:
'Vouf, Bishop

Great quote for March:
"Sometimes I suspect there IS no richard, just a silent conspiracy 
on the net to create the appearance that he exists...  :-)"


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


                      **** Day zero *****

- - ---------------------------------

"Boy, this is a tough one.  

"Here am I out on routine maintenance, a moving object in the 
sky,  visitors coming, and the Hoop wanting me to come back home.

"_Very_ curious.   Maybe almost too curious a situation.  

"I wonder if that object is  the Visitors?  I wonder what the 
Visitors are?  I should go back to the base like I was asked.  

"But what about the Visitors?"

Doejin stars a parallax and passive scan to guage the distance to 
intercept the Object moving in the sky.  

"Hmm, one diameter.  Take way too long to intercept, besides, its
coming toward us, accelerating.  Nope, not a rock.  

Ooohh... just went active.  All kinds of EM radiation. Old stuff; 
no antimatter in use, just fusion.  Not enough fuel to get out there 
and  back, either.    Maybe I can get Their attention."

Doejin fires the thrusters and begins an intercept course.


- - --------------------


>From the commander's chair, Akhouw looks at the large holotank with 
rapt attention. The meaning of the gleam in his eyes is unmistakable -- 
excitement at the incredible potential that a ringworld possesses and 
deep pride at the glory he will gain for his clan.

"Computer, lock and continue scan of the raohke ship, store all sensor
information. Compute optimal pursuit course and display on my holo."

Turning to his navigator, Akhouw raps out further instructions. 
"Aiwi, find out the composition of the asteriods in this system -- 
particularly  if there are any ice asteroids. After that, I want maximum 
scan concentration on the ringworld -- get as much as you can.  Find and 
locate any bodies of water suitable for refueling.  Look for population 
centers as well, and keep an ear out for communications and tell-tale 
signs of meson packet decay."

He touches the intership commlink. "Eihoftyah, get your troop up, I want 
them ready to go within the next tekhaao (1 Aslan hour = 137 minutes).  
Don't know if we'll need them, but it's best to be ready since we have 
proof of advanced lifeforms. Standard kit. And I want the pinnace crew 
ready right away."

Switching to the general channel, "Attention, all personnel. The next
few tekhaaor may be of immense importance to our clan. Let us show that
we are worthy of our clan-mates. Khaukeairl hrau'troikh! (To the glory 
of our clan)"


The computer starts spitting out reams of information.  No asteroids.  
Two concentric rings.  Lots of fresh and salt water.  Low frequency AM
radio signals.  Tell-tale indications of gravitics use from all over the
ring.


"Captain.  The ship has changed course.  It's on a low-energy intercept!"



- - ------------- In hyperspace -------------

... Dulinor, Lucan, and Ian fly off down the hall with the scoutcicles...

Redd : "Ok, once we've *carefully* cleared the air in there, we can see how
	much damage was done by that break. I'd like to have a good look at
	that fuel line, too - Will we have enough uninjured crew to manage?"

Abuko: "Try to find out what caused it too.  There have been to many
        coincidences on this ship, and we'd better begin to stay in front of 
        the action instead of behind it, if we want to survive to pay-day."

        Let's get a muster here.  We've gotta find out which engineers are 
        left?  Somehow engineering's got a higher causuality rate than 
        Security.

        Devious, MT and Silvmane in sickbay 
        haut-Frieder missing

Present:
        Morser 
        Blaine
        Ralf
        Redd
        Abuko
        'Vouf if he's needed
        Wrinkely. 

Redd:   Let's NOT have a party this jump.






After the successful jump, Zben compliments Charyn on her performance at
the Comm Panel.  Charyn winks playfully and says: "Thanks, Zben! In a
ship of this size and sophistication, and with the competent individuals
we have aboard, I feel very secure!"

A dainty frown crosses her lips and her forehead wrinkles, then she
states: "My biggest concern is that we are all so different.  If we had
a base of common preparation and procedure, and a common vocabulary for
expressing ideas, we'd be better off.  Still, such training and
discipline take time.  It takes time to have a real *team* of people.

She is reserved as to her inflection and movement, and always seems to
carry herself with a steady, graceful poise, friendly and open, though,
not the poise of arrogance or superiority.

"As for a drink, I'll be glad to join you once I finish up my shift
here.  I've never been big on matrix management, but I'll need to report
in to my other teams here real soon."

After setting up a running update on the computer for the estimated time to
jump exit and making sure that his nav station is secure, Nishu turns his
attention to Charyn with a long sigh.  "Miz Robins, I don't think we've
been formally introduced.  My name is Nishu Neriika - kind of a navigator,
though with the preprogrammed jump data I'm as much along for the ride as
you are."  He smiles wryly.

Charyn pops her head up quizically from the board and absent-mindedly
runs a slim hand through her long dark wavy hair.  

Nishu leads Charyn to the back of the bridge, where it is a little quieter,
and begins to fill her in on the events before her arrival.  

She stands and stretches her shoulders and neck, then sidles back.

Nishu: "Let's see we boarded the Alcyon at Turnskaad's asteroid base,
and got boosted out to the jump point.  That jump entry was a lot
smoother and a lot less crazy than this one..." He shakes his head.
"Anyway.  Once we were secure in jumpspace, the traditional setting-out
party got underway in the crew lounge.  Both I and our roving reporter
Mr.  Bishop have some footage of that, if you're interested."

His grin fades.  "Somehow, we got slipped something a little more potent
than the usual refreshments.  When we woke up, we found out a few things.
One, we'd been out for about five days.  Two, some of the crew were still
in a coma... and one, Sgt-Major Hammer, was already dead.  Three, someone
had slipped a beacon on board; the electronics and demolitions boys were
still picking over it, last I heard."

Nishu's expression by now is rather grim.  "So, we came out of jump at the
rendezvous point, and you came on board... and all zisk broke loose.  You
saw the rest."

"Let's see, commdots.  Zben can probably tell you were to pick one up; I
just got handed one preset.  There are ten channels, of which your 'dot
should connect to four - All-call, Help, the 'Kommon' party-line, and
the Transport team channel.  Oh, and also the Generalist channel, that
makes five.  The computer is handling all the switching, so it should
be pretty easy to use.  If you want more details, talk to Zben."

"Anything else?"

"Pleased to meet you Neriika! Navigation? I've served as Navigator for a
few years on the Perry-Robins merchant fleet flagship.  Thanks for the
Comm info, I already had it programmed up once I found what frequencies
were in use.  I tend to be inordinately nosy and completist that way."
She smiles enthusiastically.

She returns to her console and:

	leaves VoiceMail for the exhausted Dr Van Der Merwe, asking him
	to give her a call when he can schedule her in for the physical.

	Calls up Etienne De Mer and asks what routine services and
	schedule he is expecting.

	Calls up Mac Whitfield and inquires as to how she can serve the
	interests of the Generalists team.

When the shift ends, she looks at Zben and raises an eyebrow.  They exit
the bridge in search of the ship's commons, conversing on the way.





Zben says a few quiet words to Etienne, shrugs, and heads for the 
iris valve.  Upon leaving the bridge Zben wanders down to Engineering. 
He heard there was some damage just before Jump, but wasn't really 
aware of the extent or type.

All around are engineers and robots cleaning and checking guages, 
switches, valves, wires, pipes, and each others' work.  When he learns 
of the critical injuries he pales, and is visibly shaken.   He leaves and
heads quickly to sick bay.

He waits quietly while Dr. Limner works desparately to save MT, and Ian
works himself to exhaustion on Silvmane.  After an eternity, Dr. Limner
applies some rejuvenating fluid to his OWN hands, which have become 
rather frostbitten simply by working so close to MT's frozen body, 
despite any precautions Limner had taken.

Despite the long monologues that Limner gave almost without pause while
the medical teams were working, Limner finally appears tired, in fact
almost haggard, himself.  "Boy, I forgot how difficult this," he waves
his hand slightly towards the medical room, "can be.  Oh my!  I seem to
have lost track of time.  I'm past due for some sleep."

Dr. Limner dissapears into the Aurora surgery, where Dr. Van der Merwe is
finishing his stabilization of Anton.  After a few minutes, the two 
doctors leave the Aurora, and head in separate directions.

On the general channel:
  Dr. Limner here.  I'm going off duty now.

Zben stays.  Here in the Alcyon sickbay, Lucan lifts Ian into a chair and
props his head up on a pillow stolen from a lounge chair not far from Zben.
Dulinor silently wheels in a comatose figure bristling with exotic medical
machinery that is no doubt keeping him alive.  Lucan briefly leaves and 
disappears into the adjacent room with the cold-berths, then returns.
Lucan and Dulinor set  viital sign monitors, and take position, each 
hovering near the head of one of the two recumbent figures.

Still Zben stays.

On the General Channel:
   All hands, attention.  This is Commander Ger.  It grieves me to have to
   report that one of our crew, Doctor Much T'B Deziered, who most of you
   knew, if only briefly, as MT, is dead, the victim of a hydrogen leak
   in engineering just moments before the jump.  Although he was only 
   aboard a few hours, he was a valued member of our exploration team.
   Memorial services for MT and Hammer will be held when we reach R-alpha.
   It is fitting that those who first gave their lives in search of the
   unknown be left forever with the object of their search.

   We have had too many accidents, and too many unexplained mysteries
   already.  We have only a few days now before ringfall to solve these
   mysteries.  All ship's crew on 48-hour minimum-work schedule.  When
   we get back to work, let's get it right.  Then the rest of us can
   return to tell what secrets R-alpha has to share.

   That is all.


Zben turns and slowly walks back to his cabin. If anyone greets him in 
the corridor he just walks on, not seeming to see them.  In his cabin, 
he sits on his bunk, unmoving, staring at a someplace many lightyears 
away...

After a while he stirs, and begins, in a low monotone, to curse
fluently.  Anyone listening (Bit?) would hear a mix of galanglic, low
Aslan, and a few Darrian choice words. Mixed in and among them:
"....Damn. I left him there. I just tossed stuff to him and
left..." "....not my fault, sure. Wasn't my fault when Norin died.
That didn't help him, doesn't help MT..."

Suddenly, he sits up straight. Rising, he goes to the storage
cubby and pulls out a beat-up duffle bag. From a side pocket he takes
out a small valutawood case. Inside is a  tarnished medallion on a
blue and green ribbon. Across the top can be read (barely) "HIGHEST
COMMENDATION", and at the bottom the insignia of the Tukera Lines.
Running his fingers lightly over its surface, "Death. Stupid,
meaningless, empty death. Why? Why? So young, so much ahead of them."

His eyes swimming, he closes the case, and returns it to the bag.
Opening the larger part of the duffle he takes out a flask that sloshes,
quietly. Raising it in a toast, he intones "The idea is to die young,
as old as possibile", and takes a small swig. Lying down on the bunk,
he stares at the ceiling for some time before drifting off into a
troubled sleep.





Nishu, the navigator whose large frame and neat beard makes him look more 
like the traditional engineer, walks quietly back to his cabin.  He's had 
a full day, from the panic of jump entry and trying to help clean up 
afterwards, lending a hand where he could.  Like most of the crew he has 
taken a moment to drop by Sickbay and look in on the injured.  His usual 
wry grin has been replaced, bit by bit, with a look of weariness.

He happens to pass the crew lounge, noting Bishop in the early stages 
of a drinking session.  Sitting at a table next to one of the blanked 
viewports in the lounge, Bishop stares into a mostly empty glass.  
Judging from the assortment of empties already on the table, he is well 
on his way to alcohol poisoning.  In a loud voice, slurred almost beyond 
understanding, he rants.

"Dulinor,... and Margaret,... and *LUCAN*.  *GOD* *DAMN* him!!"  He
convulsively tosses down the rest of the drink.  "...'P..'puter.  Give
another one,... no *TWO*,... of whatever I or..ordered the last time!"
As the drinks arrive, he continues his tirade.  " 'Go on the expedition,
Adrian' ", he sneers, " 'It'll be a great story!'.  HAH!!  I can see the
headlines now.  'Well Known INN Journalist killed in Vehicle Accident.
Holo at 2300 hours.'"

Nishu pauses for a moment, but elects the better part of valor with the 
realization that the reporter probably doesn't want company and continues 
down the corridor.  In a few more minutes he has reached his own quarters 
and palms the door shut, sitting down at his desk.

He opens an envelope, spreading the contents out onto the desktop - about
twenty photographs, printed on glossy paper in super-high-res format, and
the crystal from his still camera on which the data is still stored.  
This is one of the things he really likes about the Alcyon:  he can get
the photos printed out now, rather than having to wait until the mission
is over to get the data to a processing lab.  Nishu goes through the 
prints, tossing out the one or two bad shots.  Even Imperial technology
can't prevent all the errors of an amateur. 

When he's done, Nishu puts most of the photos back into the envelope with 
the crystal, writing the date on the outside.  A few remain on the desk.
He pulls out other envelopes, sorting through them and occasionally add-
ing one to the small pile.  When he has about five photographs, he
reaches for a book he left on the desk - a small photo album, with a 
cover of black leather.

Nishu opens the book and turns to the middle, finding a blank page.  He
begins to mount the pictures of MT under the thin plastic, from his
short time aboard.  Facing these on the opposite page are a few photos
of Sgt. Major Hammer, taken during the mission briefing and the hasty
preparations for setting out and placed in the album shortly after the
first jump.  He notes the contrast between the thoroughly military man
in camoflague fatigues and the grey-haired scientist known for a
reverence for all life.

The photos in place, Nishu takes a moment to turn back through the album, 
looking at other faces.  Toby Briggs, who'd been standing next to him 
when the PB-772 took a pirate missile.  Vince Parsons, whose ship mis- 
jumped and was never seen again.  Salla Ijini, dead in a groundcar 
accident.  Fallen comrades.  Now this was all he had of any of them.

He closes the book, which still has many blank pages.  He hopes he won't 
have to fill any more of them on this mission.






Several hours into jump, Johann suddenly remembered that he has forgotten 
Bit in his transport cage.  Several hours alone in a padded cage, well 
equipped with water and food pellet dispensers granted, but with nothing 
the intensely curious creature hadn't seen a hundred times before would 
drive Bit nuts, Johann was certain of that. 

When the Van Der Merves call came through, Johann was in the process of 
trying to coax Bit down from an airvent using small pieces of fruit. He 
ignored the first call, but when it was repeated, he muttered something 
about everything being an class red emergency onboard the Alcyon, ate the 
fruit himself and left for the bridge.

When he returned ten minutes later, Bit had once again managed to escape the 
stateroom or hide exceptionally well. "You don't have to hide Bit. Your surgery
is postponed indefinately." Johann looked in the lockers under the bed but no
Bit. "No inplanted tracer beacon. Did you hear that? No commdot. You'll be a
free and untracable tree-rat like all your untracable ancestors on Focaline.
At least until he get his act togeather again, I'll not allow any doc to bring 
a knife anywhere close to you." 

No Bit showed up, however, so Johann decided that he probably had managed to
leave the room after all. On second thoughts, maybe one of the medibots could
implant a commodot in Bit? It would sure make Bit easier to find in an
emergency. Leaving those musings behind, Johann begun to rifle through a locked
rack of holocrystals, selecting some but leaving most behind. When he was 
satiesfied that he got all that he needed, he switched the auto-answer on the
console on the desk to the highest setting and left for enginering. It would
file all calls and only forward life-or-death matters to him. He hoped that
there wouldn't be too many life-or-death matters for a few hours, but he
didn't really expect it to hold.

Somehow something always cropped up and interrupted everything. First there
was that party, with the following poisonings and deaths, then the solomani
beacon, the service hatches that should have been closed but had been opened at
sometime by someone, the fleet that just "happened" to appear in the same system
just when they refuelling, the frantic hurry to charge the sinks and get out
of the way of a force packing several thousands times the Alcyons firepower,
two strance occurances of equippment malfunctions that should happen. One 
leading to a lost foot, at the very least, and one leading to one dead and 
one griveously wounded.
  
The only kind of emergency that Johann could think of right away that hadn't
happened yet was a weapons accident, and with the amount of heavy weapons
onboard the Alcyon, he tried not to think of the results if one happened.

Now, however, everyone seemed to at least hold their emergencies outside 
the engineering department. Finally, he could run the enhancement programs on
the probe data. Taking over a unoccupied console originally indended to
show holopictures or spareparts, heat distribusion or other mundane matters,
Johann hooked it up to the computers in the command shuttle and loaded some 
programs into it from the crystals. He fetched the recent sensor data from the
refueling, distorted it severely and then let the computer at it using one 
of the sensor analysis program he'd brought. Small figures of different colors 
and intensity in one corner of the holodisplay indicated the effort the computer
spends on the task, while the picture slowly became clearer and clearer and 
finally approache it's original state.

The shuttles computer managed the test with flying colors, so Johann let
loose the entire battery of sensor analysis and enhancement at the real
target. The data the Turnskaad probe brought back from R-alpha.




In the lounge, Adrian arches his arm and pitches the half-empty glass at 
the bulkhead, where it shatters, spraying fragments in every direction.  
"DAMN IT!!", he sobs, his voice cracking, "I'm a *journalist*!!  I'm not 
a damn war correspondent!" Picking up the remaining drink, he spasmod-
ically gulps half of it, and then wails, "Lucan, *Goddamm you*.  You shoot 
at me, *YOU* *BASTARD*!!!  I write your own *FUCKING* propaganda!!  Every 
day." he sobs, "Every day, I tell your story,... with that *THING*!"  He 
gestures weakly at the dented and silent shape of the AGNIS unit, laying 
on the floor surrounded by the broken remains of a crew lounge chair.

He gulps the last of the liquor and the glass slips from his almost numb
fingers to thud on the carpeted floor.  As his head falls to the table
amidst all the empties, he sobs, "I'm a journalist.  I'm not a so..soldier!"

Richard Jett steps into the room and surveys the debris. He sighs, and 
gazes at Bishop slumped over the table with knowing sympathy. He steps 
over to the compu-bar and says "Computer, recognize Jett, priority 
Turnskaad-Alpha. Accept no further orders from intoxicants from Adrian 
Bishop for 24 hours."

Looking down at Adrian, Richard says "So it finally got to you... It 
happens to all of us who are compelled by circumstance to act against 
our wishes.  You are a journalist, I am a judge -- but both forced to 
contravene the ideals of our profession." Richard is now animated, 
puncturing his speech with pointed gestures, as he continues in a louder 
voice, reckless of any nearby listeners.  His face flushed yet determined, 
he leans in close to Bishop's face.  "It *sucks* Adrian, there's no way 
around it. I could tell you stories of gross injustice that would make 
you sick -- AND I HAD TO DO IT! Why, *WHY* (as his fist pounds the table)? 
Because if I gave up and surrendered, *worse* would follow -- my power was 
limited, but I did my damndest to do JUSTICE at every turn. The question 
is -- what are you prepared to do? Let it consume your soul in self-doubt 
and recrimination, or rise above it?"

With each blow of Jett's fist on the table, Bishops head bounces in unison,
making a wet, slapping sound in the puddle of spilled alcohol.  Finally,
Bishop drunkenly lifts his head from the puddle of booze on the table and
struggles to focus his glazed, red eyes on Jett.  Then he flops back in the
the chair and slurs, "Sh..self-doubt?  I nhe..*never* doubt myself.  I know
eck..eck..*EXACTLY* what my limitations are, counselor.  How many other
people do you know that can honestly sha..say that?"  He fumbles for a
grip on the edge of the table and pushes himself into a weaving, upright
position.
    
"I do my job better than anybody, *ANYBODY* else in this business!!" he 
asserts, obviously fighting to form each syllable.  "I am *NEVER*
self-recri..recrim..criminating."  Then he points at the blanked viewports,
as if indicating imaginary warships in space beyond them and continues,
"But I am *NOT* bulletproof either!  And there wasn't supposed to be any
shooting!!"  

He snorts, "We have this HUGE starship", he sweeps both arms in the air, 
"just *FILLED* with scientists, and scholars, and explorer-types.  Oh 
sure, almost everybody carries a weapon.  We've got Horne with his big
9 millimeter 'fire-hose', and 'Vouf with those two Whirlwinds of Devestation
he carries on his hips.  Have you seen 'Vouf's cabin?  He's *proud* of it!!  
He advertises it!!  But what about poor Adrian?  Does he carry a laser?  
Does he carry a gauss rifle?  Noooo, he carries *A CAMERA*!!  You know what 
that makes me??  It makes me a god-damn *target*, that's what it makes me!!  
A somewhat less-than-innocent bu..bystander.  And don't point out those 
stupid little stun-guns that they handed out to everybody last week.  That's 
like trying to stop a charging Virushi with harsh language.  You know what 
the epitaph would read?  It would read 'He died because he was *STUPID*'!!"
    
"These people," Bishop waves around at the rest of the ship, "these
people think they can take on a *BATTLE FLEET* with one lousy little
research ship.  We just entered jump again.  Do you think we're going
home, after they tried to kill us?  Hell, *NO*.  Can't have any of that
rot, nosirree.  We going on to the bloody ringworld.  We'll show those
military shits they can't push around *REAL* scientists.  This entire
crew has the cumulative survival instinct of a section of deck plating!!"
    
"And injustice, you want to talk about injustice?" Bishop jabs a
wavering finger in Jett's direction.  "Counselor, I make my living, by
the grace of God, off of the *BI..BIGGEST* injustice this sorry empire could
ever imagine.  I feed the masses Lucan's *PARTY LINE*,  EVERY...SINGLE...
DAY!!  I know, you see, I know...", He turns away from Jett and mumbles,
"I found him,... last year,... I found him.  I ta..talked to Windhook... he
told me *EVERYTHING*."
    
Bishop spins back towards Jett, grabbing a chair to keep from falling
over.  "I'VE GOT THE GODDAMN HOLO-CHIP!!  I SAW *EVERYTHING*!!!" he screams.
"I COULD... I could... my God...", his voice fades away as the blood drains
from his face.  Eyes wide with terror, he backs away from Jett, "My God, what
am I saying...?  My God..."  Shoving his fist in his mouth, he turns and
stumbles frantically from the lounge, heading towards his cabin.

Jett is frozen in time for just an instant; a split-second of shock and
disbelief as his mind absorbs Bishop's terror-confession. Then his mind
snaps back to reality as comprehension spreads like a tidal wave against
the neural sands. A furtive glance left, then right. He utters a single,
fervent word, resonating with sympathy and frustration. "Damn." He quick-
marches after Bishop's retreating, panic-stricken figure.







"All right, computer, close file."  Lazer sighed wearily.  "Tag it and save
under Disaster Inquiry, today's date, Farouk report, prelim."  He grimaced.
"No, better make that first bit 'Procedural Report'."

Lazer stood up and stretched, working knots of bureaucratic frustration out
of his back.  Damned documentation had to be done, and he knew himself well
enough not to let himself put it off.  And now, he had one last errand to run.

He went into the lav, rinsed out his mouth, and straightened his collar.  The 
man in the mirror didn't look good. "Dammit, you're getting old, Lester."
He came to attention and drew in a deep breath.  Exhale slowly.  He saluted 
cleanly, pivoted, and left.

Fortunately, the corridors were quiet this time of night.  He didn't feel up
to an encounter with one of those who deal with stress by getting drunk. 
Just keep the pace crisp and the mind blank.  Down the corridor, to the right,
now towards Engineering, but turn off first--here it is.

Lazer nodded to a bored Ian as he went into the dark Infirmary.  Anton was in 
the bed to the right, laid out under racks of magic gadgets with telltales like
watchful glowing eyes.  Silvmane lay across from him in ghoulish counterpoint.
One dead, two critically wounded, and they never even fired a shot.

He sat, and quietly took fresh air deep into his lungs.  "I'm sorry, Anton.
You're a good man.  You didn't deserve that."  He pauses, groping for words.
He continues, quietly, "Damn it all.  That was my order that put you there."
The nagging voice buried deep in his mind taunted, what are you going to do
now?  Ask him for forgiveness?  Think you're omnicient, Lazer?  You're human, 
fallible.  No.  Yes.  

"I failed you, Anton.  I can't weasel-word to my own wounded.  I was 
responsible, and I failed.  I'm sorry."  Why was it always so hard with few 
wounded?  Mass casualties were numbing, somehow.  My soul is too small too 
encompass that much suffering.  "I'm sorry."

He tasted salt tears at the crook of his mouth, and welcomed them.

Lazer sat out the rest of his vigil in silence.  After an hour he rose, and
walked toward the door.  "Later, Anton."  Ian was still at his seat as he
left, expression indecipherable.






Bhyarrvouf is performing his "midnight prowl," a ritual he began when still 
an Engineer and which he continues as SubCommander: he walks quietly 
through the Alcyon from stem to stern, looking in each work area, perhaps 
exchanging a brief word with the crewmen on watch, before going off duty. 

All seems well on the Bridge, and he skips through the labs quickly so as to 
avoid disturbing the scientists working late into the night on their 
calculations and preparations for the Big Moment. He pauses in the Sick Bay
entry, and looks for a long moment at each of the recumbent forms before
continuing down the hall. He walks down the quiet halls of the quarters deck,
ears and nose twitching after every faint scent, every sigh or snore from
behind a wall. 

He makes out the unmistakable voices of Bishop and Jett, several meters
down the hall and what he hears stops him.

   "Adrian -- are you OK?" 

   "....
   Look, ...  right?  I never said *ANYTHIN'*.  It *NEVER* happened."
   ... dead man...  
   I *LIKE* bein' *ALIVE*.  I want to *GO ON* bein' *ALIVE*."
   ...
   Don't you screw up too...You poke your nose into this, and 
   you're a corpse ...
   ..."

There is another brief, hushed, exhange of words, and the distinctive
sound of a forcefully closed door.  'Vouf continues on around the corner.
He passes Jett in the hall, and favors the lawyer with a friendly 
grin, avoiding an actual conversation.  The judge seems preoccupied, 
determinedly heading toward his cabin.
  




Dr. Morser wanders into the lounge, running his hand through his shock 
of unruly blond hair. He is distracted, as usual, but also somewhat 
somber. He also mutters a bit under his breath as he picks out some 
nutrition(bleah!) from the dispensers:
	"Hmm...seen zome pretty ztrrrange ting in my time...Veird
mutations, odd crreatures, terrrible side-effects...but poor MT..."

He shudders involuntarily at the memory of bits of frozen person shattering
off as MT's flash-frozen body slid across the floor just before engineering
was evacuated.

Taking his meal to a table, he stops suddenly at the sight of the paritally
disassembled and maimed AGNIS unit. He steps over and examines it 
immediately, ignoring his rapidly cooling meal. So engrossed is he in this,
that he completely misses the commotion about the Subcommander, and just
keeps poking about the bits and pieces of the poor AGNIS.




'Vouf's long path ends in Engineering, where the liquid hydrogen spill's 
effects have quickly been dealt with (after all, when it evaporates it
doesn't leave a mess) and the feed has been patched. Now, with the drives 
off and the power plant idling, the huge room is quiet. 

Johann Abuko is up late working on a simulation at one of the holodisplays. 
Abuko doesn't hear 'Vouf come in, and 'Vouf doesn't disturb him. 'Vouf walks 
past the familiar machines, stopping now and again to run a loving hand over a 
particularly well-kept device, until he comes to the Maneuver Drive monitoring 
station, deep in the bowels of the Engine Room. During Jumps, the thruster 
plates are silent, and the station is on automonitor and abandoned. 'Vouf 
sinks into the contoured couch, poking his tail through the slit at the back, 
and settles into the cushions with a sigh. "I miss this," he whispers softly.
"Promotions aren't all fun and glory...." 

He pauses and sits up, his ears focussing forward like twin antennas toward 
the machinery near the main drive coils. His nose twitches furiously, but the 
wind in the vents is at his back, he smells nothing. In a blur of silver, a 
Gauss pistol is in his hand. "I know you're there," he says menacingly. "Come 
on out."

There is a moment's pause, then a tiny golden head with twitching whiskers and 
rounded ears pokes out timidly from behind the coil. Bright black eyes survey 
'Vouf suspiciously, and the tiny nose wrinkles at his scent.

'Vouf's ears fold back flat, and he sighs in disgust, shoving his pistol 
angrily back into its holster. "Aw, Bit," he groans, "Get out of there! You're 
not supposed to be down here, it's dangerous! Johann's supposed to know 
better....especially after that fiasco this morning!"

Bit's ears perk up at the sound of his name, and he scampers out from behind 
the drive and up onto 'Vouf's lap. 'Vouf's expression gets even madder. "Go 
away, Bit," he growls. Bit looks puzzled at that, and puts his forepaws up on 
'Vouf's chest to get a better look at him.

'Vouf bares his teeth. "Let me teach you a little bit of biology, tree-rat," 
he whispers grimly. "In every ecosystem, there's a whole order very carefully 
laid out as to how plants and animals get nourished. At the bottom end are the 
bacteria, which digest the corpses of higher forms and provide food for the 
next lower step on the ladder. Then those tiny plants are eaten by tiny 
animals, and the tiny animals are eaten by bigger animals, and so on, and so 
on. That's what we call a food chain, see? Now, near to the middle of the food 
chain are little carnivores that eat vermin and insects... like tree-rats. And 
you're a tree-rat, see? That's your place in the food chain: eating vermin and 
insects. Okay? Now, a ways further up on the food chain are the sentient 
animals, which with the dubious exception of the K'Kree eat pretty much 
whatever they want to, including lower animals on the food chain. Like 
tree-rats. Now, some species have this weird double standard where they keep 
lower animals around for fun, not for eating. Humans do it; so do Aslan, and 
so do the Hivers, or so I've heard. But the Droyne don't, and the K'Kree 
don't, and the Vargr CERTAINLY don't. And I'm a Vargr. And you're a tree-rat. 
Are you beginning to understand the implications of this yet, Bit?"

Bit sniffs more closely at 'Vouf's muzzle, and his whiskers wiggle.

"Look, I'll spell it out for you in simple terms," 'Vouf snarls. "LITTLE 
predators get EATEN by BIG predators. And I'm getting really TIRED of eating
RECONSTITUTED MEAT from the BIOMASS TANKS! DO YOU GET THE HINT?" His teeth 
draw back into a killing rictus, his jaws open to snap the tiny head off.

Bit licks his nose.

'Vouf looks shocked, then outraged, then angry, then sheepish, as Bit begins 
vigorously cleaning his nose and muzzle with a tiny rough tongue, stopping now 
and again to sniff at his handiwork. Bit, satisfied with the job he's done,
sits back, and 'Vouf laughs quietly, as much at himself as at the tiny animal.
"Oh, g'wan, get out of here," he grins. "Your papa's probably wondering where
you've got to. Go on, shoo!" As an extra impetus, he picks up a glittering
holocrystal from the blank-disk box, waves it in front of Bit's eyes so it
glimmers in the dim light, and tosses it away, back toward the occupied areas
of Engineering. Bit gives a little "chuff" of excitement and goes tearing
after the disk as it rolls away. 'Vouf watches him go with a faint smile, then
leans back in the chair once more, closing his eyes. After a minute or two,
his breath comes in slow, easy surges, and one of his feet gives an occasional
twitch. 

After a little while, Bit comes back, the disk clutched in his tail. He climbs 
back up onto 'Vouf's lap, inspects the sleeping face carefully, then curls up 
and goes to sleep himself. Absently, one gauntleted hand comes up off the
armrest and gently caresses the tawny fur on Bit's back, coming to rest there.






Many hours later, Johann realizes that the engineroom has fallen silent, and 
that he is thirsty. The commo channels are silent, except for the occational
status report from the bridge watch and the entire ships seems to get a much
needed rest. Feeling certain that there is nobody around to ask embarresing 
questions like what the chief enginer is doing running simulations of various
levels of technology on the surface of a simulated R-alpha and comparing it 
to the enhanced probe data in the middle of the night, he winded his way
forward in the ship on stiff legs. The autogalley is never closed. "And it
never complaines about snacks at strange hours."

When he reached the demolished crew lounge, Johann begun to suspect that
someone had had a accident with some weapon after all. Then he discovered the
dented little sphere that was Bishops camera unit. "Either I missed a big
party with a equally big bar-fight or someones got a big grudge against 
cameras!." Johann speculated and went over to the autogalley to punch in an
order for several sandwiches and something with a lot of kaffeine in it.
  
"I know one tree-rat that will be delighted that the mysterious globe is
down at an easy-to-reach level." He thought and remembered that Bit probably
was loose somewhere in the ship again. Johann was convinced that no matter how
it had happened, if Bishop found the camera half-dissasembled on the floor
of the crew lounge, with one guilty looking Bit sitting amongst the pieces,
he would draw his own conclusions.

"Looks like it's time to put all the robotics to a practical use." he 
grumbles as he takes the agnis unit and carries it towards engineering.





                        **** Day one  *****



Ferdy checks in at the central maintenance facility.

"Visitors.  WHERE?   Who's outside today?  Where are they?"

Swimming over to the console, Ferdy slides into the hoop so that it
just contacts his skin.

"Doejin, where are you?"

- - -------------------



"Admiral.  He has not threatened us.  He has gone ballistic toward a
large continent.  There is a fresh water lake we can refuel from there."




- - ------------------

Kimball Redd rises very early and takes several laps around the Alcyon 
with Thule, Lazer, Ian, Charyn, Etienne, and Ralf, grabs a really quick 
breakfast and heads to engineering.

When he gets there he discovers Abuko rubbing his eyes over a large
pile of metallic junk, and 'Vouf stretched out at the number 5
console, with Bit on his lap, furtively darting out a paw and touching 
'Vouf's gauntlets, then as quickly withdrawing it.

Chuckling to himself, Redd grabs a chair by a terminal and starts making 
up a list of things to be done in jump.

"Hmmm...."

Check & repair the fuel line		- what caused the break ?
Check the rest of the fuel lines	- make sure it doesn't happen again
Check all systems for damage		- Did anything get frozen ?
Repair the systems damaged by the leak	- Frozen panels, etc

Leadfoot - check him for cold damage, and see about...

"Hey, Abuko - have you talked to Medical about getting Bit  an  implanted
comdot  yet?  It  would  make  it  a lot easier if we could have Leadfoot
listen out for his radio signal & throw him out every time he wanders  in
here -  stop  him  from  hurting himself on something hot. I *think* he'd
get tired of it before the robot wore out! It shouldn't be too difficult
to instruct Leadfoot about how to catch him without hurting him (and what
tasks he shouldn't interrupt for it)."

General Maintenance
Airlock	- What happened to it ? Are the others OK ?

"Anyone else think of anything we need to check ?"





In sickbay, Ian gently wakes Silvmane.
  
Dan's eyes open slowly and finds himself staring into the soft glowing light
strips of sickbay. 

"How you feeling this morning?"

Slowly he moves his limbs, feeling still a little weak.
The last thing that comes to his mind was the blinding jet of hydrogen
that came from a leaky pipe.  By all rights he should be dead.  Thank god
the ship has modern techniques to save his butt. 

"All your vitals are good.  Doc Van Der Merwe and Lucan both say you're
remarkably fit.  I guess we can't violate an 'imperial' edict," Ian says, 
slightly nodding toward the two medbots and grinning.  "I REALLY am glad
you pulled through OK.

Sitting up in bed Dan notices that table next to him has a new set of 
in-ship coveralls.  Slipping into them he feels a moment of regret of 
losing his old uniform.  

Ian drones on almost as though he's insensitive to Dan's condition.
"I'm really not a medic.  I'm a generalist, so we might wind up working
together.  I hate to consider the shape this mission would be in if it's
so desparate I have to stay on in medical.  I'd like to discuss the probe
data with you and Dr. Werner and Dr. Morser and Ralf when we get a few
spare minutes.

Moving slowing towards the door, Dan makes his 
way down to the mess hall.

"If you have any shivers, or nightmares, or strange feelings, or even
questions, just look me up."


Dr. Limner comes in and Ian goes off duty.  Doc heads immediately into
the cold berth area.

"Good Morning .. Jan Yorblin."

Jan shakes off the lethargy off of the low passage.
"Gak! I hate those things, damned navy trait, that frozen watch, does anyone
have a cup of black tea around here?" he says to noone in particular as he
yawns and stretches, his joints popping into place.

Jan is about 2 meters tall, and looks the product of a low-g birth planet
followed by many years in normal to high-g enviroment.  His most striking
feature is his albinism and his belter haircut.  He wears a TL15 Scout issue
vacc suit ("20 years of service, what do I get- two of these and a clean
change of underwear").


"Ah, I believe I recall your holo from my preflight briefing.  Dr. Limner,
isn't it?  I assume that were either at our destination, our my services were
needed sooner than expected."

Upon finding that they have not reached R-Alpha, Jan gets a quick brief on
the current situation.

"Well, better get logged on to the ship's MedCompSys and get to work:
Computer, prepare log-on file for newly awakened physician, create
personal and patient note files, exam and treatment files, the usual
epidemiology and tracking files, the usual routine..."

"Physician name: Yorblin, Jan Thaddeus.
"Imperial License: STRO/REGI-1108-SPMAR-JYOR-07-11-PI-532-82-2618
"Specialty Board: Fellow, Imperial Academy of Adult Intensivists
"Subspecialty: currently completing work on Astronautic Injury
 Reconstruction"

He asks Limner what patients he can assist with.  After taking a look
at Anton, he sits down with his tea and whatever food he can scrounge 
and begins to review the patient charts.
Assuming that Dr. Limner is present:

"Dr. Van Der Merwe is our Chief Medical Officer.  He should be along
shortly.  Since you seem to have recovered well, 'Welcome Aboard'.
If you don't mind, I have some other matters to attend to."





The few assorted crew-members populating the lounge see a haggard, but 
freshly showered, Adrian Bishop stalk into the compartment.  Without so 
much as a wave or a word of good morning, he heads straight for the auto-
galley.
     
"Scotch," orders Bishop, pointedly ignoring the looks from the rest
of the crew present.
     
"Request denied." the auto-galley coldly replies.  "Authority, Jett,
Richard.  Authorization Turnskaad-Alpha."
     
"Damn", Bishop mutters.  His fist, resting on the counter, slowly
clenches and unclenches.  After an embarrassing pause, he slowly exhales
and says, "Coffee.  Strong and black."  With a brief hum and a click,
the unit disgorges a steaming, if somewhat utilitarian, mug of coffee.
Bishop picks it up and eyes it suspiciously.  He then takes a tenative
sip, grimaces, and then gulps about half of the contents.  Sweeping the
room with a brief glance, coffee cup in hand, Bishop slowly wanders out
into the corridor.  He then picks up his pace and heads aft, towards
the cargo hold.



  Deep down Johann isn't surprised at all the calamities that has befallen the 
ship. "What else could one expect that when they put a hairball as executive
officer and fills the ship with Vilanis?!" he thinks and is at the same time
relieved that he put Bit in his cabin so that wasn't in harms way when the 
hydrogene spill occured.
  "And what was the language the doc begun mumbled in?! Vargr?! What kind of
flying lunatic asylum is this?"
  
  Johann repairs the agnis unit if it is possible, and takes advantage of the
occation to snoop around in it and take a copy of what it might have recorded.
He installs no tracers or anything, but he takes one of the covers of holo-
crystals from the bag under the agnis, so that he can put a bug on it and put
it back in the bag, using Bit as a diversion, if there is need to trace the
agnis in the future.




Jordan plays with the switches on his suit and prepares for the trip to
the airlock. His helmet mask goes down giving him an eerie appearance due
to the fact that the inner helmet lights are busted, but HUD displays can
be seen reflecting off his face. As he approaches, he activates his motion
scanner and tries to log possible targets. He also observes what the others
are doing and tries to work in unison with them , all the time quiet as a
door mouse.







"Do any of you know how to run diagnostics on this thing," Horne says as he
starts to clean the blood from the bulkhead.

Azabi stares back and then at Mahlel and shakes his head. He slings the
his shotgun on his back and proceeds to help with the clean up. Finally,
Azani speaks,knowing that the danger has passed.

"Sure is messy down here, I wonder what happened..." as he flecks of blood
that has freeze dried onto the walls. Eventually the mess is cleaned and 
some engineers appear to run diagnostics on the airlock.

Azani leaves and relaxes a lot more. He doesn't know why, but for some 
reason he feels more tense everytime a stressful situation occurs. 

"Gotta relax alittle," he mutters to himself. His stomach rumbles, reminding 
him that he ashn't eaten yet.

He strolls down the corridor, with his helemt in hand and shotgun at back
anticipating the prefab food broth at the mess hall...




An hour later, still holding the now-cold coffee mug, Bishop strides
into engineering.  At first glance, nothing about him looks out of place,
until crew members realize that that's exactly the problem.  The one 
object that should be conspicuously absent is the AGNIS unit floating 
silently behind his left shoulder.  A number of double-takes occur, and 
several glances are made towards Abuko, who was, until a moment ago, 
working diligently on the damaged AGNIS unit abandoned in the crew lounge 
the night before.  The bent holo-bot, several of it's access panels now
removed, still lies silently on the workbench next to Johann.
    
Bishop walks over to Abuko and stares down at the smashed robot.
"Well, if you can actually repair that thing," he gestures at the
dismantled unit, "more power to you."  Setting down the coffee mug,
he carefully picks up the main housing, so as not to dislodge any probes
or loose components, and with his free hand, grips the holo-chip access
tab and pulls.  Then he pulls a little harder.  Finally, he sets the
unit back down and picks up a pair of heavy grips, which he applies
directly to the tab.  After a grunt and a protracted tug, he gives up
and drops the grip back on the workbench.
    
Casting up and down the bench, his eyes lock onto a pulse-proximity
laser cutter.  Picking it up, along with a pair of protective goggles,
he checks the charge on the cutter.  Satified that it's at working levels,
he dons the goggles, turns and announces, "Eye cover kiddies, laser tool
in use!"  Once he's reasonably certain that everybody is safe, he thumbs
the "ON" stud and applies the tip of the cutter to the access tab.
    
PI-PI-PI-PI-PI-PI-PING!! shrieks the metal as the thermal change
in the AGNIS housing drowns out the hiss of the cutter.  Bishop quickly
cuts two more dotted lines along the access tab, then the entire cover
comes loose and falls onto the workbench with a tinny clatter.
    
Bishop thumbs the cutter off and lays it down on the bench.  Carefully
avoiding the hot edges of the opening, he reaches into the gap and pulls
the pair of circular holo-chips from their slots.
    
"Got you, you little bugger." Bishop smiles grimly.  Turning to
Abuko, he says, "Sorry about the mess, but I didn't expect it to yield
much more than spare parts anyway.  Still, if you can actually get it
to work again, well, another one never hurts."  With that, he pockets
the holo-chips and heads for the exit.
    
As he reaches the hatch, he spots 'Vouf and he stops in mid-stride.
With a malicious grin on his face, he remarks, "Hey 'Vouf, I've got good
news and I've got bad news.  The good news is, I got the entire IceCapade
cart-wheel on chip.  The bad news is, the angles so bad, I probably won't
be able to use it!"  After a pause, he continues, "Maybe you'd consider a
repeat performance!"  Then he ducks out into the corridor and flees, leaving
the almost empty coffee mug sitting on the otherwise orderly workbench.

"Eyeskepeyd Khartweel?" 'Vouf blinks at the retreating Bishop, then reaches
into his pocket for his well-thumbed Vuakedh/Galanglic Dictionary With Idioms.
"Eyeskepeyd, eyeskep-- harf! Got it! 'Escapade'! Okay. But, 'Eyesk...' What's
the-- 'ICE'?" His voice trails off into a look of utter horror. "Ice Escapade!
Kae, kakh TSAKHA!" He begins feverishly flipping through the book again. 
"Khartweel, Kartweel, cart wheel... O Kae NO...." He drops the dictionary on 
the deck, and claps an armored fist to his eyes as if in sudden pain. "He 
didn't. He couldn't! He WOULDN'T DARE!" His voice rises to a shriek, as he
pelts down the corridor after the now-long-gone journalist.
	
"BISHOP! YOU CRUSTY-FLANKED LITTLE TAILSNIFFER! I'M GONNA EAT YOUR EYEBALLS! 
I'M GONNA WATER YOUR ALCOHOL! I'M GONNA GRIND YOU UP AND FEED YOU TO THE 
LAWYER! YOU'RE DEAD, Y'HEAR ME? DEE EE AY DEE, *DEAD*!"
	
A pleading note enters the tirade. "Bishop? Gimme that crystal, Bishop! 
I'm not gonna ask you again.  Adrian!  Samshkarkh ROUKH!  Come back here!
I promise I'll leave you alone!  I'll give you that interview you wanted!"

He raises his fists above his head, and his bellow is heard all over 
the ship:

"********* ADRIAN! AAAADRIAAAAAAAAAAANNNNN! *************"





Horne and his crew get to the airlock. "Well now that we are here we might
be able to figure out what went wrong. Run diagnostics on this thing, and I
guess we ought to clean up the blood.  Azani, Mahlel, do either of you know
how to run diagnostics on this Damn thing, if not we will have to get some
engineering type down here. Let's get t'work.

Damn, this makes no sense." With that he starts cleaning up blood from the
bulkheads while the others run checks on the airlock.

"Holy sheeit," Ralf says quietly.  "Look at this."  He's got the air lock 
control panel removed from the bulkhead.  It looks like the victim of a
blow torch with an attitude.  "This .. whatever bypassed all the normal 
interlocks.  That iris valve only did what it was told -- to close.
Unconditionally.  

"I sure wouldn't trust ANY doors on this ship until we check 'em over."





Dr. Limner's voice comes across both the Science and Generalist
channels.  He seems somewhat subdued:

"I've been rather busy with the medical emergencies lately.
 Now that that's...over, I'd like to get back on track.  I
 had been on my way to my grav bus.  I have a great deal of
 equipment stored there, mostly designed for planetary
 expeditions, but some of which is useful at interplanetary
 ranges.

"I'm used to working basically alone, so I have pretty much
 everything you'd need to explore a planet, except for the
 equipment which was too big to remove from my ship.

"Perhaps we should discuss what equipment we need to take,
 so that we can avoid too much redundancy in the away teams'
 equipment.

"Also, what types of long range scanners are available on
 our ships?  We should make sure that we get all of the
 information we need..."

Limner's voice appears to have been trailing off a bit
throughout the transmission.  Without picking up the volume
at all, he continues:

"We've already paid for this expedition with blood.  I hope
 we can avoid this in the future, but we've already found
 out that this mission is going to be anything but simple.
 We have a job to do, however.  Let's redouble our efforts
 and do it right.

"Limner, out."



"Dr. Limner," Bhyarrvouf replies over the Generalists' channel, 
"You might want to compare notes more closely with Ralf, who also 
has a fairly well-equipped grav unit with different emphases than 
what yours probably has.  Mister Witfield has nominal authority 
among the Generalists, but this matter lies in a grey enough area 
between Science and Generalist matters that you can probably act on 
matters as you see fit."

"Both Mister Witfield and Mister Edmondsen should be brought up to 
speed on any gear that requires in-field unsupervised use, and....
hrm....I'm forgetting someone....Hrr, yes! Mister Robins! If she's 
finished getting over that hangover she and Blaine were planning 
after the Jump, you should get her up to speed as well. I'm going 
to be occupied with something very important today, so I won't be 
able to join you all. 'Vouf out." 


"On the generalist channel, Ian's voice pipes in:"
Does this mean I'm *officially* a scientist now?





Dr Van Der Merwe is engaged in the singularly depressing task of 
reviewing the autopsy reports, when he hears a faint bellow echo 
throughout the ship.

"********* ADRIAN! AAAADRIAAAAAAAAAAANNNNN! *************"

Seconds later, this is followed by the sound of shoes pounding down
the corridor decking.  The sound abruptly stops just outside the closed
hatch to the sickbay.  The hatch hums open and Adrian Bishop, face
glistening with sweat leaps into the compartment and jabs the door
control.  As the hatch hums closed, Bishop sags weakly against it,
his sides heaving with laugher and lack of breath.  Tears of glee run
down his cheeks as he doubles over with joy.  The laugher eventually
dissolves into a fit of coughing, leaving Bishop almost totally devoid
of breath.
    
"Heeheehee... whew!" he chuckles.  "Well, he probably... hahhaha...
probably won't be able to... heehee... find me in here for a little
while!"  Then his face goes straight for a second.
    
"Oops!!" he blurts and quickly palms the hatch open.  The AGNIS unit,
all this time waiting patiently on the other side of the doorway, floats
silently into the compartment.  Bishop hazards a quick glance out into
the corridor, then thumbs the hatch closed again.
    
"Hi doc," he grins at Van Der Merwe.  "Having this bloody thing bobing
outside is as good as putting up a sign that says 'HE'S IN HERE!'.  Well..."
    
Then he pauses, and his animated manner evaporates as he studies the
silent injured forms laying in the beds.
    
"I'm... sorry to hear about Silvmane." Bishop says.  "I didn't know
him but I'm sure he was a good man."
    
"I... ah... I was thinking that now might be a good time to have a
chat.  I haven't had a chance to talk to you, and I'd like to find out
a bit more about the Alcyon's Chief Medical Officer," he adds, "if you
don't mind, that is."
    
Settling into a nearby chair, the AGNIS unit hovering at his shoulder,
Bishop undergoes what might be termed 'a profound change in behavior'.
He is suddenly the epitomy of a professional network interviewer.  Even
his appearance is more settled and relaxed.  He has obviously found refuge
in the one thing with which he feels the most comfort: a one-on-one interview.
   
"Perhaps you could talk a bit about your background."  Bishop begins
smoothly.  "I believe your home is in the Marches.  Is that correct?  Also,
I am told by members of your medical staff that you're quite the published
physician.  And, that you saw action in the Fifth Frontier War.  Tell me
about yourself, please."




Twice a day for the first few days after Jump an odd, slightly rythmic, 
thumping sound can be heard in the vicinity of the Talisman's gym-room.  If 
anyone approaches the gym they hear a voice, barely audible above the other 
sound, coming from the room.

Etienne is standing near one wall with his back to the door, wearing nothing 
but a pair of shorts.  He is facing a body-suit of ballistic cloth armor that 
seems to have been stuffed with odds and ends and lashed to a post.  The suit 
may once have been well made, but it is now very ragged looking, with a number 
of patches.  Etienne holds a classic en-garde position for a second then 
explodes in a series of formal strikes to the dummy.  None of his blows are 
pulled in the slightest and the cloth draped form rocks with each one.

As he executes each blow he mutters something under his breath.  It seems to
be a long list of names, with those of the dead and wounded members of this
expedition at the end.  Among the names are one obviously Varg name, two that
are probably Aslan and, surprisingly, one that can only be Zhodani.  When he 
finishes the list with "Silvmane", he drops back into en-garde, holds it for 
second, then starts over.

His body is quickly covered with sweat, and as time rolls by, his blows
become weaker and less accurate.  When he reaches the point where he can barely
keep the tip of his blade up, he collapses to his knees and remains there, head
bowed, for several minutes.

A short time later, showered, shaved and dressed in a clean flight-suit, he
enters the main lounge.  He orders some food and proceeds to eat while 
watching the action centered around Sub-commander Bhyarvouf.

Etienne rises as 'vouf leaves and follows him out into the hallway.




Bhyarrvouf hears, if not the light tread behind him, the reopening and
closing of the Lounge door. He turns and sees Etienne following him, 
and says mildly, "H'lo, M'syoor de Mer. On your way to the Lounge, looking
for me, or both?"

vouf


[Etienne hurries to catch up with Bhyarvouf...]

  "Sub-commander, may I have a word with you please?  Officially."


  "There is a delicate matter I need to discuss with Commander Ger, but I 
haven't been able to find him.  It may be critical."

"Certainly.  And you can also tell me, and I'll pass it on as well."





Vouf:  (late that night)
"We should decide on a search pattern," 'Vouf remarks as the airlock
cycles, allowing the four into the Paladin's dark, silent interior.
"I think we should split up based on our epxertise... M'Lord Ger, I
think you should access the computer and scan his logs for unusual
behavior or anomalous systems failures before his death. Lazer, check
out the turrets, missile magazine and the ship's locker. Christian, 
glance over the Bridge before the Count gets settled in, then check 
the cargo hold and staterooms. I'll take Engineering and Avionics 
myself.  Agreed?"

It quickly becomes obvious this is a highly modified type S.  The computer
and security systems are dormant, and seem to be TL16+.  So is most everything
else on board.

<Ger>
Sounds good 'Voof. Just be careful in here, we don't know if there is
any latent security devices.  Ger follows Christian and 'Vouf to the 
forward section of the ship.  When Christian is done inspecting
Ger begins to access the computer.

Christian nods, and assuming there are no further objections, walks with
Ger to the Paladin's bridge. As Ger busies himself with the main computer,
Christian checks over the other bridge stations and runs some tests,
looking for anything unusual.

The holodynamic display is set up to make the entire bridge part of the 
display.  All of the sensors, and on command all of the sensors of the 
other ships as well, are tied in.  When engaged, the bridge disappears
entirely, leaving Ger and Van Der Merwe "standing" in space, in zero g.
The intense, deep blue glow of the jump grid covers everything, and the
outline of the Alcyon is clearly visible covering the "starbord" side
of the view.

As their eyes adjust, they can make out the shape of the single, form-
fitting acceleration couch.  A somewhat closer examination reveals 
proximity and contact sensors, and numerous suit plug-in sensors, located
all over the chair.

Christian checks with Ger to see if he's found anything. 

"The computer recognizes me, 'Vouf, and Hammer.

"Got some synaptic, robotic, and AI stuff in here.  And and incredible
array of sensors.  Kinda makes me wonder if we need the Alcyon's.  All 
three of these tag-alongs got better gear."

When finished on the bridge, Christian proceeds to slowly walk to the
stateroom and cargo hold, taking his time to look through each area
with caution and great thoroughness, his senses alert to the smallest
anomaly.

...Not quite your average boarding mission.

Twenty years of combat reflexes keep playing Lazer false, expecting hostile 
fire at every door, twitching for the rifle that wasn't there, demanding 
_speed_ before a counter could be mounted...

No. One step at a time, keep checking the scanner.  Just keep your eyes up
and your ears open.

'Vouf rips open the access panels to the avionics section (well, not 
literally), and enters. He spends a long time downloading data from
the instruments, checking internal monitors of airflow and other environmental
factors, examining the instruments and sensors for tampering, and checking
behind access panels (walls, floor, ceiling) for hideyholes and hidden
compartments, being especially careful to scan for any sort of boobytrap,
either a tripwire, a switch, or an electric-eye beam in UV, visible, or
IR. 

'Vouf we have some more problems to discuss. Things are still not going
well. Actually I think that this is the most error-prone mission I've
ever been on.

"Error-prone, m'lord?" 'Vouf's laugh is half sneer. "I'm assuming that you're
relying on sarcasm and absolute politeness in choosing your words! Nobody
this "error-prone" would have made it onto this mission at all, I'll bet. And 
it isn't an error when an iris valve mutilates a man, or a ceiling duct 
ruptures and kills one man and nearly kills another, or an entire crew sleeps
for five days and some of them don't wake up at all. If you want a 
confirmation of your suspicions, m'lord, you have it from me." He nods grimly. 
"We're being sabotaged."

At that 'vouf lifts up a spent air canister and bares his teeth.

"Found this plugged into the Alcyon emergency air supply connect.  It was
buried in there *REALLY* deep.  So deep only a really good engineer
who knew what he was doing could plant it.  Nayduz got set up, but good
and we lost a good man because of this."

"Here guy.  Some chemists are gonna wanna see this."
Once that's said, he hands the tank to Christian, and walks down to 
the Engine Room and repeats the process again, stopping just short of 
disassembling the engines.


Lazer runs as thorough an inspection of the weapons systems--yes, that's the 
right attitude--as he's ever given any of his own ships.  

Whoa, what's this?  The weapons are all auto-relayed to the bridge and
main computer.  Hmm, only a software switch to transfer control to Thule.
good.  Unusual weapons, too.  A missile rack and some kind of plasma
guns on the turret.

He leaves the weapons locker for last, figuring if he's going to find 
anything, that's the most likely place.  Opportunism is the key...keep 
the eyes open and the brain running, and be damned sure to recognize 
what you're looking for when you find it.

Computer keyed.  Recognizes Nayduz, Ger, 'Vouf, and  Hammer!?  grrr.
Lazer gets Ger to open the locker for him.  He whistles softly.  Captain...




                          **** Day two *****

[I don't have any intelligence from R-alpha for day two or day three...RJ]


<Andon>
Hey Lazer,  I'm going to be down at the vehicle bay, I'm to keyed up, I need
to keep myself busy for a while.

<Go and hunt down Ralf>
Ralf, I think we were just about to do some checking of the vehicles before
we were so rudely interrupted.  How about we get back to it?

Andon will spend a long time rechecking the vehicles and giving Ralf a hand
with making adjustments, if he comes down.  Andon will continue working until
he is very tired, he has trouble getting to sleep after an alert in which
he can't do anything and working helps him unwind.





Christian leisurely finishes his lunch and disposes of the meal in the 
handy recycler. Standing up, he brushes a few crumbs from his gray 
surgery fatigues and scans the room, before his gaze locks in on an 
unfamiliar individual and he strides over to meet the new addition to 
the bio/medical team.

With a wide and relieved smile, he reaches out and gives Jan a firm
handshake, then sits down across from him. "Welcome aboard Doctor Yorblin,
I'm afraid I've been busy up until now, sorry I wasn't there when you were
thawed out so that we could get acquainted. I'm Doctor Christian Van Der
Merwe, (Order of Starship and Crown), the Chief Medical Officer and leader
of the Bio/Medical Team. Glad to have you aboard doctor, we've been a bit
short-handed until now. What is your medical expertise, Doctor?"

"Pleased to meet you, Sir Christian,"  Jan says as he extends his hand.
He is still wearing the scout TL15 vacc suit he had on in low passage,
but he does have a ship's comm dot on.  Jan stands about 6'6", is pale
bordering on albino, has a white hair in a belter cut, and a white handle
bar mustache.

"Don't know if you had a chance to puruse my portfolio before ya thawed
me, but why don't I tell ya a little about me.  Finished med school at the
IISS Medical Academy on Stroud.  Did a four year residency in adult intensive
care medicine in the belt in the Stroud system.  Took the board certification
as an adult intensivist two years ago when I went on detached duty.  Been
doing that since then with a focus on reconstructive medicine post space
injuries.

"Figured it was time to get back into exploration, so when I was offered
a spot on the Alcyon, I went ahead and took it.  Before becoming a doc
I was an exploration branch generalist -licensed as a watch standing pilot
and junior navigator.  Got some other skills that make me handy on a
dirtside trip, stuff like weapons handling and recon, things you probably
aren't too concerned about."

Christian seems genuinely pleased. "Good! They way things have been going on
around here, I could use a good critical care and reconstructive man. Anton
Devious, who is in a deep coma now, had his foot amputated by an iris valve,
so maybe your expertise would come in handy if we tried to reattach or
regenerate."

"To return the favor, let me tell you a bit about myself. I'm certified by the
Imperial Medical College in xenomedicine, specializing in Vargr trauma
surgery and neurology, and in bionics. After graduating from the University of
Deneb Medical school with honors, I spent a few years as in the IISS R&D
branch, doing teaching and research; I wrote a number of papers on both of
my specialties. After that, I transferred into 'the field' as a flight
surgeon and after I picked up my ship operations skills I was assigned as
a courier and 'travelling doctor' of sorts, looking in on all kinds of
remote posts and such. That's how I picked up my ship, the Aurora."

"Anyway, seeing as I was up, I went over the patients you still have in
the sickbay.  What sort of workload do you me to start out with, and
on which patients?"

"As I indicated, Anton is the worst case. I'm not sure we can do anything
about his coma, but if he comes out we would have to consider regenerating
or replacing his foot. Obviously I have a bionic replacement covered, and
you have regeneration. So you could keep an eye on him. The other patient,
Daniel Silvmane, needs extensive help with rehabilitation after that LH2
accident. If you can handle these two, I have a prior investigation that I
have to attend to. I think that's about it; questions?"





Ralf and Andon notice 'Vouf transferring his grav bike to the Command Shuttle.

	Geez, tight fit, but if he can manage it.  I'd have just
flown it around the outside.  But then I guess this was in jump?

	Ralf comments that anything that big he expects to be 
pressurized for comfort :-)

"Actually, it IS pressurized," Vouf says mildly as he rounds the bend.
"It runs smoothest at high altitudes." And then he's guiding it
down to the vehicle docking areas, and is lost to sight.


The armory got a shock today when Rigo Edmonsen bumped a box
(a cube of some flat-black material, about 2' high) which has been
lying around since the start of the trip.  The box responded with 
a short klaxon and the appearance of a radiation warning sign (a
large red dot with three red trapezoids extending from its edges)
for a few seconds.


Ger walks quietly into the lounge that evening with a large bundle of papers
and a portable computer. He walks to the autochef, and orders a nutri-meal,
and nutri-beverage. After a nod in 'voufs direction he heads over to a corner 
of the room sets up the computer, and spends the next hour or so shuffling
papers, typing on the keyboard, occasionaly talking to himself, and oh yea,
infrequently partaking of the "meal" ordered.

(perhaps some of the people gathered wonder.."He actually reads all the
reports that I send him?? All the way through?")








                      **** Day three *****

Well after the furor of the post-Jump repairs has died down and gradually
been replaced by the relatively routine run of security work and scientific
prep for the long-awaited arrival at R-Alpha, probably the second or third
day of the Jump, Bhyarrvouf vanishes. He's not in his cabin, nor on the 
Bridge, nor in the Engine Room, the Alcyon's Sickbay, or on the Talisman.
The only person who seems to know anything at all about the disappearance
is Count Ger, whose only comment is, "He is attending to urgent personal
business today. He will be back on duty soon enough."




That night, as the crewmen who aren't on duty gather in the mess hall to get a 
bite of supper, 'Vouf comes in with Dr. van der Merwe, laughing and chatting
amiably. Christian seems a bit wrung out yet happy, a far cry from his misery
and exhaustion of the past few days of watching Devious, Hammer, MT, and 
Nayduz either die or get put in coldsleep tubes. 'Vouf is absolutely bubbling
over, happier than anyone's ever seen him and not caring who notices. He 
saunters over to the autochef and barks, "Bloodvark, raw, bite-sized chunks."
Christian orders his meal right after that, and picks up both trays, carrying
them to an empty table. He and 'Vouf sit down, and Christian begins 
alternating between feeding himself and popping bits of meat into Bhyarrvouf's
mouth. Anyone who gives a closer look at the pair upon seeing this bizarre
behavior will instantly notice the reason: 'Vouf's cybergloves are gone. In
their place are two sheaths of resilient polyfoam, from which only his 
fingertips are visible, held rigidly in a splayed position. He rests them on
his lap as he eats, and they twitch occasionally but otherwise don't move.




Fitz will come over, gnawing on a chicken wing and ask, "Ey, 'Vouf, what
happened to yer mitts?..."

"You have something to do with this Doc?"

Working his way through a particularly nuclear sort of chili, Christian grabs
a hunk of warm bread straight from the compu-galley and begins to slather it
liberally with synthobutter. In between bites and spoonfulls of chili (and
ballistically tossing bloodvark chunks at 'Vouf -- clearly Christian hasn't
been attending to himself of late and is ravenously hungry), he looks up at
Fritz and deadpans: "Sure did, I recommended that he attend to his hygine by
washing his hands before dinner. We just had a difficult time persuading some
of those twenty-year microbes that they could find another home. Last I looked,
I think they were chasing after Bit, yelling something about new tenants..."


'Hey, If you're not going to be needing those mitts, mind if I take a look at
them, they were pretty neat!'

"Oh, hi, Fitz," 'Vouf says between bites. "My gloves? I took 'em off. First
time in nigh on twenty years, actually. Decided I couldn't postpone washing
under my fingernails any longer-- hrf hrf hrf...." He chuckles. "And no, you
CAN'T take a look at them, no offense. They're kind of personal, y'know?"

Devoting himself to his cuisine, Christian mutters something under his breath
about curiosity...


'Vouf sighs, but holds out his hands to be inspected. They bear an astonishing
resemblance to human hands from what Fitz can see, with the fingernails very
large and hardened, almost but not quite clawlike. "For your information, 
Fitz, we call them 'hands,' because they resemble human hands so closely. 
Aslan have paws, K'Kree have hooves, Hivers have tentacles, and Droyne, Humans 
and Vargr all have hands." The difference between his arms and legs is 
startling, the most obvious sign of genetic engineering by the Ancients: his
arms and hands are quite humanlike in nature, but his legs have the powerful
haunches and enlarged tarsal bones of a dog's legs. "My feet have pads," he
says, "Which is why I go barefoot when I'm off-ship sometimes. But the hands
don't. The Ancients did a pretty good job, hrf?"

>Fitz goes back to nibbling his chicken wing.  "You ever try any barbeque sauce
>on them 'chunks'?"

"Barbecue sauce?" 'Vouf blinks. "Is that the sort of sweetish, spicy stuff the
Solomani smear on charred animal ribcages? Can you get that here?" He glares
at Christian in mock anger. "Yer not taking very good care of me, aenrra!"


    Just as 'Vouf prepares to intercept another bloodvark chuck tossed by
the good doctor, a hand descends on his shoulder while it's mate snatches
the piece of meat from the air inches from 'Vouf's jaws.  Looking up, he
locks eyes with the ship's resident snoop.
    "Greetings, your furriness," smiles Adrian Bishop.  "Hi ya, Doc...
Fitz.  How's tricks?"  Then Bishop looks down at his hand, clutching
the hunk of raw bloodvark.
    "Yeee-uuch!!" he grimaces, gingerly dropping it onto the table.
Searching about, he spots a napkin which quickly absorbs the mess.

Bhyarrvouf sighs gustily. "Bishop," he groans, "Don't do that. I could've
taken off a finger, and you know it."

Still deeply involved in assuaging his hunger, Christian favors Adrian with
a wearily tolerant eye. "What's the matter Adrian, did the INS cancel your
breathtaking interview of the Deputy Assistant to the Undersecretary in
charge of the Adjunct Department for Sucking Up to Lucan?" (grin)

"No," 'Vouf corrects him with a grin, his ears coming up a bit, "Actually he's 
onto the trail of a hotter target these days, aenrra. Seems he's got the goods 
on a mysterious Vargr whose past is shrouded in mystery and whose present is 
all too concrete...." 

    "Look," Bishop grins at 'Vouf, "I can see that you're REALLY busy right
now, but maybe when you're finished, we can do that little interview you
'promised' me in the hall two days ago, hmmm?"  Holding up an innocent-
looking holo-chip, he glances pointedly at 'Vouf's hands and continues,
"After all, in your present state, I guess I don't have to worry about
you shooting me, do I?"

Christian glances up at Adrian. "If you think that's all you had to worry
about, Adrian.... (meaningful look)" With a darkly humorous chuckle, he
returns his attention to selecting a delectible dessert, looking briefly
at Bhyarrvouf, as if to share an inside joke.

"C'maahhhhn, aenrra," 'Vouf chuckles, "Don't spoil my fun! If he's expecting--
whoops!" He looks over at Bishop again. "Almost gave it away. Can't have 
that, now, can we?"

    "I'll be in the lounge, when you're ready, OK?"

"Say good-night Adrian.  Cigarette? Blindfold?"

"I'll take the blindfold but no cigarette.  They're bad for your health."
Bishop positively beams as he walks out of the room.  It must be the drugs.

After he's gone, 'Vouf shrugs and finishes his meal with Christian's help.
He then gets up, yawns, stretches, and says to no one in particular, "Tonight
and tonight only, in the lounge, for the amusement and edification of the
Alcyon's crew: SubCommander Bhyarrvouf demonstrates that he CAN in fact kill,
dismember and eat a grown human in under five minutes. Without using his
hands." He strides out, licking his chops. 



Hey, Thul, wanna make a wager?  I say 'Vouf can do it.
Farouk over.

Heh!  I don't bet on foregone conclusions....



- - -- 
"If I get murdered one more time, I'll scream!"  //      Richard Johnson
`Mary' from the movie "High Spirits"            //   richard@oresoft.com
                                              \X/ richard@agora.rain.com


------------------------------

End of TML Bundle
*****************

