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To: dan@engrg.uwo.ca (Dan Corrin), bfwong@ocf.berkeley.edu (Raven Blackburn),
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Subject: TML Bundle #221: Msgs 2693-2696
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From: James T Perkins <jamesp@metolius.wr.tek.com>
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TML Bundles come from the archives of the Traveller Mailing List,
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Date: Wed Jul 31 21:00:19 PDT 1991
From: traveller-request@metolius.wr.tek.com (TML Administrator)
Subject: TML Bundle #221: Table of Contents

-AMN- --Date--- --Sender--------- --Subject-----------------------------------
2693  28-Jul-91 Richard Johnson   PBEM Turn 10.10 << ================ PBEM Turn
2694  30-Jul-91 KELLOGG@ducvax.au High Speed Projectiles << Hello again, Time t
2695  29-Jul-91 George William He High Speed Projectiles ... << I'd always assu
2696  30-Jul-91 Leonard Erickson  High speed projectiles << Tony Hayes: >I've b

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

Archive-Message-Number: 2693
Subject: PBEM Turn 10.10
Date: Sun, 28 Jul 91 20:40:59 PDT
From: Richard Johnson <richard@agora.rain.COM>



================       PBEM Turn 10.10          =========================
================ Break from Mid-Summer Monotony =========================

Historical Synopsis:

(This is **REALLY** condensed!  A much more complete summary 
 will be given in turn 11.0; coming sometime this September.  
 I sort of owe it to the new players.  RJ)

With the assassination of the Emperor barely two years old, the fringes
of known space are becoming prey to warlords, pirates, and opportunists.
On the Imperial frontier, in a nebula near where the Solomani sphere, 
Margaret's forces, and Lucan's receding empire meet, an intact ringworld
is discovered.  Turskaad Enterprises of the Spinward Marches is first
with the information, and funds an expedition to "R-alpha" for scientific
and commercial gain.  They hire a team of characters run by TML members
and imply there might be a way, through their efforts, to slow down the
enevitable show-down between Lucan and the Solomani.

The expedition leaves quickly and quietly in a jump tender virtually
incapable of self-defense, carrying two modified scouts and a far trader.
During the two-week voyage, the crew is decimated, first falling prey
to a sabateur with a sleeping agent, then to a malicious computer
program, and finally to suicide.

Meanwhile, an Aslan combat/exploration vessel has also just discovered
the ringworld and begun exploration of the surface when the Alcyon 
arrives.  There is clear evidence of widespread sapient life on the
ring itself, as a shuttlecraft is briefly visible to the Aslan.
When the Alcyon re-enters normal space, all aboard are psionically 
greeted.

But first we have to back up the clock about two hours, so we can see
what happens aboard the Alcyon as they discover Adrian...

- - --------------------------------------------------------------------
Tail of Turn 10.9

[in the crew's muster following the shoot-out at the O.K. engineering 
deck.  Count Ger is speaking.]

"Well, we'll be arriving shortly.  We have now completed the *easy* 
part of our mission.  I have it on good authority our sabteur has
met his maker."  He smiles wryly at Abuko.  

"Now, we are about to visit a single world with the same habitable 
surface area as all of the inhabited worlds in the Imperium put 
together." He pauses to let that sink in.  "There are fewer than
forty of us.  We have to find the history of a long-dead race, find 
an intelligent species, and prevent Imperial conflicts from destroying 
this gem of an artifact.

"We are much better prepared for this part of our mission than we were 
for sabotage, however.  Look around you.  We are scientists, we are 
engineers, we are scouts.  Only a few of us are trained killers."  He
slows down just a little.  "And all of us, _all_ .. _of_ .._us_, have
worked our whole lives for this moment.  For this opportunity.

"You have demonstrated a teamwork on board these last few weeks.  
You have demonstrated tenacity in adversity.  And you have demonstrated 
an ability to adapt.  All of these are needed and will serve us in good 
stead in our coming venture. 

"When MY grandchildren ask me what it was like, I will proudly tell them
how wonderful it was to serve with the greatest collection of explorers
ever assembled. 

"I salute each and every one of you.

...

After about three seconds, Ger stands, carefully replaces the chair and
steps pack up on the rise.

"We re-enter our universe shortly after evening mess.  Make sure your
gear is properly stowed, and everything is ready for the transition.
After we arrive, crew of first away team will be posted.

"Dismissed".

[Sorry about having to summarize the actual event, looks like it
 dissapeared at the end of May, when I trashed agora's OS...]

Evening mess find Bishop frenetically working with AGNIS on some
project, avoiding all social contact.  At an opportune moment he
slips away.  

A few minutes later, Doctor Vander Merwe rises with a start, punches
his communicator, and tears out of the mess area as though afire.
Very shortly thereafter, medical emergency claxons begin to wail and
Dulinor races through the passageways carrying an inert reporter to
sick bay, followed closely by the doctor.

Looking over the back of a hopping-mad vargr into stateroom 17
you can see strewn remains of personal and professional effects,
textiles in disarray, broken and misplaced artifacts; seeming signs
of a struggle.  'Vouf is muttering under his breath, and Lazer
is coming down the passageway, obviously intent on keeping people
out of the cabin.

The computer's voice fills the ship.  "All hands, All hands.  Transfer
to in-system ships."


- - --Paladin--
Without fanfare, Limner and Ghougzar board and seal the Paladin,
strap themselves in, and don their computer interface garb.

"Lucky stiffs.   Wish I were goin' with ya.  Ian."


- - --Talisman--
Redd's working at his console when the call comes to move to the
Korondor Talisman.  He looks up from his repair work, and starts to
finish what he was doing.  

"All go around here it seems.  Sorry to have to leave you all with
engineering in this state, but someone's got to get the Talisman
spaceworthy fast.  It's been really interesting working with you all,
let's just hope we get to meet up for the trip home." 

He punches up the stats for the Talisman on the computer, and after a
few low-voiced words with Ralf, leaves in a hurry for his cabin.  Minutes
later,  he can be seen arriving at the Korondor Talisman with a pile of
storage drawers thrown onto a trolley and covered with his vac suit - a
trail of lost socks and dented wall panels follows his hurried progress
through the ship.  

"Ahoy, Captain Jonson Sir - Permission to come aboard ? I'll drop off
my kit & start some pre-flights, with your permission.  Ralf's probably
going to want to handle the software side, and I'll take the hardware,
but if Leadfoot got here before us, we could have our work cut out.  If
it had just been taken 'alive' we might have found out the extent of
it's sabotage, but we'll just have to manage as best we can."

He pauses to retrieve his issue stun pistol from the floor and throw it back
on top of his neatly wrapped and folded Navy uniform - The Starburst medal
standing out amongst several others.

"I worked on a free trader like this for a while after I left the Navy, we
always had trouble making the payments."


Andon Shrike arrives just a couple of minutes later.
 
On arriving at the Condor, "THUL!!! Where do I dump this stuff?, Where's
the bridge? What are the ship stats? Am I supposed to be flying this thing?
What kind of wierd stuff you got wired into this thing? Just a bloody
pogging hour to get used to a new ship, what ..." mumble, mumble, "damn,...".
"Hope your insurance is paid up."


Ian, who can't tell when to shut up hollers back at Andon.  "Who's! flying
this thing? I thought Andon was a rookie pilot.  Where's that XO who
put ME, a bleeping blockade runner on CONTACT.   grrr I'm tempted to
to put cat-scented soap in his washroom.
 
"HEY! Anybody wanna fly this thing?"
 
At this, Ian will go muttering down the hal back toward the cargo area.
"Damn stoopid fools can't keep their folders straight.  I said I was a
pilot and a scientist.  So far I get marathon medkit duty and now CONTACT
whothehelltoldemIknewadamnthingaboutdolphinsanyway...."
 

Thul's voice coming from the bridge of the 'Talisman:

"Whoever is going to fly this damn thing better get up here...
This ex-Marine is about to open up the throttle on this thing
and find out if he can do it himself!"
	

Andon will drop his gear where it is, crews lounge, and head forward to the
bridge.  On arriving at the bridge, "Relax Thul, we got, uh..." looks at
chronometer, "a good seven minutes to go." Going over to pilot's station,
and sitting down.  "By the way, all my gear is just sitting in your crew's
lounge." Andon starts checking all indicators in order, fast, but
efficiently.  "Can we get somebody back there to batten it down?" Continuing
to work as he talks, "Any special access codes I need?" Andon brings up the
appropriate checklist and running through it calls out questions to the other
stations as he goes.  (Who else is here on the Talisman's bridge?) "Hey Ian,
get your butt up to the bridge I'm going to need your help to get us ready
on time." To Thul, "You know I never did say I was a good ships pilot, I
think the XO just liked how I did on the piloting test." Andon doesn't wait
for a reply but just keeps on working.

Andon notices a bottle of VERY ancient brandy sitting on the pilot 
console, and that the engines are just about ready for manuever.  
Thul wears a smug, self satisfied look on his face.  "You gotta be
a better pilot than me!  All I've done is read about it! " 



- - --Medical---
Outside Alcyon's sickbay, 'Vouf, Ger, and Jett are finishing a rousing,
heated argument about whether to attempt immediate revival of Bishop,
or to slot him indefinetely.  The door is open, and all four doctors,
yorblin, Vander Merwe, Limner, and Tabor get repeatedly dragged into 
the verbal conflict.

It's obvious the clock ticks on, both for the Alcyon and for Bishop.
Finally, with little fanfare and with full gravity the Count pulls 
rank, "Slot 'im -- NOW!", turns brusquely, and walks away.  "You
can discuss 'malpractice' and 'psi-reconstruction' later.  Get to 
your posts.

Yorblin looks up from the grav gurney where Bishop's inert form lies.
The holo display isn't pretty, massive areas of neuronal disruption.
Membrane degeneration has been stabilized.  A ventilator maintains
Bishop's respirations.  Bishop is ready for nanocyte infusion.  All
Jan has to do is program them for brainstem reconstruction, a half-hour
task at the most.

"Christian, this is ungodly damage, Bishop's psych profile must have
been skewed way past the Nornberg crux."

Jan turns as he hears an alert tone, only to realize it's coming from
the commdot on his neck.  Listening as he stares at Bishop's numbers,
his brow begins to furrow and he frowns slightly.

'Vouf enters the Sickbay and quietly watches Yorblin as he stabilizes the
journalist's condition. Silently, he picks up the datapad hanging at the
foot of the cryocapsule and reads it over. He waits until Yorblin steps 
away from the capsule to go get something, then steps over toward the 
viewport and looks down for a moment at the chill, composed face.
 
With a sudden, convulsive heave, he makes a noise somewhere between a cough
and a sneeze, then limps out of the room. When Yorlbin turns back to his 
work, he finds a glob of gooey spittle running down the viewport's side.

"Yorblin copies." He clicks his comm dot off.  "Who did that!?  Lucan -
clean that up!  

"Ger wants me on the command shuttle.  I'll get Bishop ready to go, but 
you'll have to finish him up.  Limner, you and Tabor can go; the slot's 
ready and Dr.  Vander Merwe is handling the infusion.  Thanks for your 
help, even if we do disagree.  It sure beats disagreeing with that twit 
lawyer.

"Security Watch Officer, Yorblin.  I'll be down in a bit to draw
my weapons and armor load.  Should be a gauss pistol plus six spare
clips and a CES."

With that Jan turns back to the computer interface to finish his work.



- - --State Room 17--
The once-neat stateroom is a shambles, empty syringe ampoules and tubing
on the floor, spilled contents of boxes and overturned furniture the evidence
of a struggle of some sort.  The door hisses open, and Bhyarrvouf enters,
gingerly favoring his game leg.  He looks around him silently for a moment,
then his eyes fall on the pile of holocrystals on the table and floor.  
 
His eyes narrow for a moment, and he picks up a crystal.  A twitch of an ear
drops the blood-red data monocular in front of his eye, and he picks up the
crystal between thumb and forefinger and holds it gently as if caressing it.
He frowns.  Tossing the crystal away, he picks up another, then another and
another, growing angrier by the minute.  By the time he reaches the end of the
pile, he is panting and his ears are curled back flat.  An armored fist 
clutches the last blank, reformated crystal in the pile, and it explodes into
a puff of fine shards.
 
A string of Vuekadh maledicta snarl from the maddened Vargr.  When he runs out
of swear words in his native tongue, he shifts to Galanglic.  "Miserable drug-
fogged useless limp-tailed baby-humping filthy rotten cowardly gutbucket of a
pus-awful scab-picking JOURRRRRRRRnalist!" A fist slams down on the table.  
"Every crystal erased! Every interview, every record lost! Irreplaceable 
minutiae gone for good, all because you were too scared of life without 
chemicals to keep going, and you wanted your piddling death to mean SOMETHING,
even if it was something AWFUL! You FILTH! You COWARD!" 
 
He turns to the door, eyes plotting.  "I'm gonna make you PAY for this, 
Bishop," he snarls.  "I poured out my GUTS to you, and you ERASED IT ALL! I'm 
gonna kill you.  I'm gonna cut your life support lines while Yorblin isn't
looking! I'm gonna sneak you out of your capsule and run you through the 
biomass processor and serve you to JETT! I'm gonna, I'm gonna--"
 
He stops.  A malicious grin spreads over his features.  "No, I'm not," he 
suddenly says mildly.  "I'm gonna let you LIVE, Bishop.  I'm gonna leave you
screaming inside that shredded skull, pleading for those bleeding-hearts in
Sickbay to pull the plug already.  I'm gonna let that lardbutt lawyer try to
talk the Psionics on this ship into stuffing third-hand memories back into
the holes you left in your mind and stitching it together with welding tape.
I'm gonna let them turn you into a MONSTER in the name of LIFE and LOVE! 
And on the off chance that you DO wake up and want your old job back...."
 
His grin turns ferocious, and he turns toward a corner of the room, where a
small metallic object rests inert against the wall.  He kneels before it,
wires and tiny manipulator arms extruding like weird growths from his 
gauntlets, and sets to work.


- - --Bridge/Command Shuttle--
Shortly before jump-exit Zben Blaine hears the good news about
being appointed to the Command Shuttle crew.  As soon as the
announcement ends he starts back toward his cabin, while calling up
the computer on his communicator.  "Computer.  Access Zben delta comma
one.  Copy, cross check, and download to Command Shuttle computer all 
programs contained in file code name MasterCommList and code name
ZbensOwn.  Verify."
   
Arriving at his cabin he hurriedly packs his carryall, including
his blowgun case, several well padded bottles of Darrian Brandy,
whatever clean jump suits he has, and puts on his own tailored vacsuit
and PLSS, again moving his bracelet to outside the suit.  No sense
taking chances...  Looking around, he feels a little strange about the
idea that he may be spending quite some time away from the Alcyon.  It
seems like its been home for Much longer than the time he's actually
been there.
   
Leaving the cabin, he stops by engineering and `requisitions' an
electronic repair kit, complete with tools, test equipment, and common
spare parts.  To this he adds a spare communicator, mulitplexer, and
comm-dot set.
   
Next stop is security, where he draws out his own AutoSnub
pistol, and ammo.  [If his blowgun and case are here, rather than his
cabin, he gets those also.]

   
Finally, with a half hour to spare [I hope!], Zben arrives at the
Command shuttle.  [to Etienne] "Zben Blaine reporting, Sir! I'll just
stow my pack and get right to it." Stuffing his equipment in the first
secure locker, he returns to the bridge and `sets up shop',
configuring the Comm panel to his standard and running quick
diagnostics on all Comm gear, inculding the programs he had Computer
download.  Satisfied that all is prepared as well as he can make it, he
greets each new arrival, and has them set up their communicator to
Channel C, for `Command Craft', i.e.  "Team #1".


 
Up the corridor to security Johann comes pushing a air-cushioned laboratory
table in front of him.  On the table stands a big white plastic box with 
wires and connectors protruding from the open top.
 
"Do you think you could lock this up in a sealed locker? It's the remains 
of the mekbot, but I don't have the time to finish examining it before we 
exit, and I don't think it should just lay around in engineering."
 
He collects his weapons and 'wheels' the table back towards engineering.

 

- - --Talisman--
When Ralf finally gets caught up to the rest of the crew, he packs 
everything into the midget gcarrier and pops over to the Talisman.  
Somebody better have 4 tons of space to put this thing in!


About fifteen minutes before the Alcyon is scheduled to exit jumpspace,
Nishu comes running down the long connecting passageway to the Korondor
Talisman.  Slung over his shoulder is a beat-up and rather overstuffed black
duffel bag, with a faded Five Sisters logo on its side.  The heavy bag 
doesn't seem to slow the breathless navigator down much, as he dodges anyone
who might still be loading supplies at the airlock with a quick apology.

Making his way to the bridge, he comes to a halt at the door and tosses
off a quick half-salute.  "CPO Neriika reporting for duty sorry took longer
to get everything packed than I thought it would where's my station?"
   
Once someone points out the navigator's chair to him (or he figures it
out himself), Nishu sets his duffel on the deck next to it and sits down.
A few quick taps at the holodynamic console configure it for normal-space
navigation; he runs through the list of system checks, one eye on the
chronometer window counting down to emergence.

When he finishes the checklist, he digs into his duffel for a few 
minutes and comes up with his small video camera, which he pans around the 
bridge of the free trader before sticking it (apparently with a magnet) to a
convenient surface.  Next to come out is his familiar still camera, which
goes around his neck on a cord.  Nishu grins as he snaps a few pictures of
the antics of Andon, Ian, Thul, et al.  

Nishu wears a windbreaker jacket, glossy forest green in color, over
his Turnskaad-issue vacc suit.  The gloves and helmet have been folded and
tucked into the pockets.  As noted, a small still camera hangs around his
neck.  As some of the crew will have seen at breakfast that morning, he's
shaved off his familiar beard (but not his mustache); when asked about it,
he simply says that "it was a look that didn't work for me." 


 
- - --Cabin 17--
The sobering silence is broken by the soft whirr of the door opening, 
revealing Richard Jett standing in the hallway.  He stands there for 
a minute, looking at the shambles inside the cabin with a vague sense 
of irritation and disgust.

Stepping inside, he carefully sifts through the debris and extracts 
any holo crystals he can find.  He ponders them, muttering some savage 
comments as to Bishop's character.  Firmly holding the case in one hand,
 he pivots on his heel and stalks off in the direction of Engineering.

A few minutes later, he walks into Engineering and heads in the direction
of Dr.  Abuko.  He proffers the crystal case to Dr.  Abuko, and says "Doctor,
this is Adrian Bishop's set of holocrystals; he erased them just prior to
his suicide attempt.  These contained a vast wealth of information about
the crew and the mission to date that is irreplaceable as a historical
record and for other reasons.  I would like to know if you could take these
and do your best to recover the information therein.  No special hurry,
but as soon as you can spare the time, the better.  Turnskaad would deeply
appreciate it."


- - --Sick Bay and Aurora--
Christian checks the the controls and readouts on Andon and on Bishop
one last time, making sure the autos can handle a long-term watch.  Then he
initiates the wath program, shuts off the lights and takes one step out 
of the door.  Pausing only briefly, he turns around.  "Computer - program
medical auto-alarm.  Ring my frequency; continuous watch."

"There," he says quietly.  "At least we won't be having ghosts running
around.  .  .  Ghosts.  Damn! Too many good men already." He shakes his
head sorrowfully and gravely and heads for Aurora.  

"Lucan, Dulinor! Button 'er up and get ready for acceleration.  Two
on board."

Several minutes later, Bhyarrvouf limps as quickly as he can down the 
corridor toward the Aurora.  Anyone left aboard the Alcyon sees a
familiar object about the size of a basketball, floating obediently
behind him as he enters....



- - --Bridge/Command Shuttle--
Etienne steps through the airlock into the Command Shuttle and turns
into the main passageway, heading toward the bridge.  Just outside the
bridge he stops just long enough to strap his carry-sack into one of
the lockers.  He is still carrying a weapon bag that is almost a meter
long.
 
He steps into the bridge and greets those who are already present, then
straps his gun case to the decking just under the pilot's cosole.
 
He settles into the acceleration couch and touches the auto-adjust controls.
Even before his seat is finished adjusting itself to his body, his hands
are reconfiguring the controls, running self-tests and beginning the preflight 
check list.
 
Just a few minutes before jump exit, Johann comes running towards the lock
of the command shuttle.  The first thing that strikes those waiting anxiously
in the shuttle as out of the ordinary is that he is wearing a civilian tailored
vacc suit, all the time up to now he's only worn civilian indoor clothes.
The second thing they notice is that he, likewise for the first time, is
actually wearing the stun-gun in it's holster attached to the utility belt on
the suit.  He is carrying a backpack and one rather big, yellow bags that seems 
to be made of the same almost non-destructible cloth the scouts make their
utility vests out of, and three green boxes marked 'Interstellarms'.  One is
about the size of a pre-stellar dictionary volume, the second, which hangs on
his back is a little over one meter long and the third, about one foot cube,
wears a big yellow and black triangle declaring that the contents are explosive.
 In addition to all this, he of course wears the 'normal loadout' of hand
computer, commdots etc.
 
"Sorry I'm late, I had to catch Bit again." he explains as he enters the 
shuttle and those nearest to the entry can see that the 'goldfish-bowl' style
helmet that hangs on the backpack is closed with a net and has a furry 
inhabitant.  "Is there any locker onboard for this?" Johann asks and indicates
the three green boxes.

After everything has been stowed, Johann assembles Bits airtight transparent
transport cage, places it on top of the sensor console and hooks it up to the
central oxygen supply.  "I'm sorry for this, Bit, But you are much safer in
there if we have to decompress the shuttle."
 
Etienne addresses those on the bridge, "All stations report.  Monsieur Blaine
please contact the other ships, including the fighter, and request their
status."

Almost at the preidicted moment, the jump warning sounds, and the lights 
dim.  Once again, everyone is subjected to that annoying, nauseating, 
tumbling, feeling, and the pale blue glow on all the outside monitors 
is replaced by starlight and sunlight.

 "Normal space, Sir.  Launch countdown activated." [10...9.....2...1]

A slight jar heralds the shuttle's departure from the Alcyon, as all of the
sensor displays activate.  Etienne's eyes linger on the spectacle of the 
ringworld for only a moment then return to his controls.
 
Looking out any viewport, you can see just how good a jump this was.
In an arc stretching from as far as you can see forward to as far as
you can see aft, and slightly below the Alcyon, is a wall of dark, gray,
metal, with sunlight shining off the edges.  Far forward you can see
a second arc and far aft is a third.  These two are tiny silvery bands
that begin well away from the vanishing points of the metal floor, and
extend around, behind, and above a shimmering greenish-yellow star.
These tiny bands almost connect above the star, giving the appearance
of a halo.  Keen eyes detect a very slight fuzziness at the edges of
the "floor" near you.

Inward from the first ring, a second becomes visible.  It is in a plane
with the first ring, but much smaller, and much darker.   

The inside of the ring is visible fore and aft of Alcyon as the wall
arcs away from you.  You can clearly see forests, seas, deserts, islands,
continets, and various signs of life - villages, smoke, roads.  Motion
detectors tell of flying creatures as well.

Everyone hears, from just over her or his left shoulder a quiet, soothing,
alien, voice.  In each person's native tounge comes the message:

"Welcome.  We have been expecting you.  An envoy will be up shortly
to show you where to dock.  The peace of the cosmos be with you."

None of the typical intercept or probing signals appear on the ship's
sensors.

Etienne doesn't bother looking up from his console as the disembodied voice 
echos in his head (in the ancient French language of his childhood), but he 
does mutter "No, it couldn't be a simple landing beacon, could it?"

Johann fires up every passive sensor there is.  "Vegetation, Life, 
Civilization signs ....  and a Second ring! I don't believe this! 
There is an inner ring inside R-alpha!, Noone is scanning us actively, 
by the way and no navigation beacons or anything like that." Johann 
turns towards the rest of the crew of the shuttle and says, when he sees 
that everyone is looking over their left shoulders.  

Johann gets a puzzled expression "What? What's the matter? What's 
happening?" he glances back at his console "The sensors has still not 
detected out of the ordinary....  Aside from R-alpha, that is..."



- - --Talisman--
As the Talisman emerges from jump space, Joachim stares at the screen
with strange, almost haunted, wistful look on his face.  

"So this is my new home...rather pretty...and big enough for anyone.
Wonder what the people are like? There's got to be some...

<<From just over Joachim's left shoulder comes a quiet, soothing,
alien, voice.
"Welcome.  We have been expecting you.  An envoy will be up shortly
to show you where to dock.  The peace of the cosmos be with you.">>

"Oh shit! Not more plague blighted telepaths! How much longer can I
hide this way!"

For an instant Joachim pales with panic; then another instant of rigid
self control; then a sort of resignation.

"Maybe, just maybe, they won't care about my past...they certainly
can't be connected to THEM...can they?...too late now anyway...I
daren't go back."

Suddenly Dr.  Tabor breaks into quite giggles.

"At least this may quiet down those ethical twits' arguments about how
to save that damned prying journalist...he certainly did himself good
though...almost a pity to see it undone.  Looks like my new career is
wrecked though, these folks are probably better doctors than any of us"



 
=================== Meanwhile, on R-alpha ============================

Admiral Akhouw and his hardy band of adventurers is watching a kythui
village.

A 50 kg omnivore/hunter, the typical Kyth stands about 1.2 m tall.
It is vaguely humanoid in appearance (bilaterally symmetric, 2 arms,
2 legs) and covered in short, dark green fur.  It has a short muzzle
full of sharp teeth, and small, pointed ears set high up on the head.
The eyes are round and staring, with a yellow or orange tint to them.
 
The kythui appear to have descended from a race native to the planet 
Rorise in the Mora subsector of the Spinward Marches.  Rorise is a 
very cold world and the Kythui are well adapted to cold conditions, 
but they are rugged and versatile enough to live in a wide range of 
environments.
 
Kythui are not particularly intelligent, but they do have a degree 
of low cunning which makes them dangerous.  They make a living from
hunting and trapping, and they are highly adept at laying ambushes.
Technology is really only at level 0, with favoured weapons being
spears and bows.  They are nomadic and usually live in tents made
of animal hide.
 
Kythui tend to be aggressive and belligerent by nature, and their
social hierarchy is determined to a large extent by who is the
strongest and meanest.  They admire a strong leader.  They seem to
enjoy bullying Chirpers (if they can catch them by surprise before
the Chirpers manage to pull their nifty vanishing act).
 
The Kythui are also highly superstitious, and there is often a
tribal shaman who is accorded great reverence.  

One common test of a Kyth's strength and prowess is to be able to
tame and ride a gara.  Garui are 400 kilos of pure nastiness:
muscular quadrupedal carnivore/killers with thick, wrinkled, hairless
black skin and long muzzles with teeth even bigger and sharper than
those of their little furry masters.  A favourite Kythui activity
is to fight inter-tribal battles between gara-mounted warriors.
 
The village the Aslan watch seems to be getting larger, as kythui
from neighboring territories arrive and set up camp around a 
great central clearing.  They seem to be preparing for a major
event of some kind.

 
The aslan choose to send a ship to a spillwall and back to scout, and
have a second group watch the kythui covertly.

Hryawi takes the "high guard" group and reports back that evening 
with some "hard" information (that the Alcyon will quickly be 
privy to as well). The ring is 3000 km wide. [I don't know why I 
made it so skinny, but it's in turn 0 if ya wanna look it up :=(.]  
The spillwall is 100 km tall, and about 60 km wide at the base, 
forming a moutain range.

The ring does *NOT* spin at 1200 km/s.  It spins at about 250 km/s --
enough to stabilize it, but only enough for about 1/6 g 'native'.  The
remainder of gravity appears to come from a comprehensive system of
advanced grav plates.  (Note: at this distance, solar orbital V is 
about 30 km/s.)

Despite the advanced age, there appears to be no obvious signs of
previous habitation by the pernicious TL6-TL9 world-trashers in 
this area.  Currently, there are tens of thousands of Kythui clans
in the area, on their way to this gathering.

Chirpers, as expected, abound.  Usually they make great prey for
the Kythui's beasts.

Atop the spillwall, at regular intervals are devices that appear to
be airlocks of some kind.  Some are easily large enough to house
good-sized ships, but all attempts to open them have been fruitless.

The "outside" of the ring seems to be remarkably pock-mark free.  
Attaching things to it physically (rather than magnetically) cause
expulsion of the probe and a seal of the breach.  It seems to be 
a material uniform in strength and consistency and color.

After a full day of intelligence gathering, Hryawi and his clan
return.  The following morning, Akhouw orders a contact team.  "It's
time, people.  One to stand on the rise at lightfall (there is no
real "dawn" here, the sun always directly overhead), the rest to cover.
Who will volunteer to stand?"

A chorus of voices returns the request (naturally).  The honor falls
on a young seargant, fresh from the tank corps.


- - --Phins--
Doejin leaves the interminable conference on "visitors" and heads
for his tender.  "Anyone coming with me?  I'll emmissary out to the 
small ships.  Ian's back.  Don't you guys wanna say 'hi'?"  Ferdy
is right behind Doejin, and Katie simply WILL NOT be left out!

Porting to the lock and getting into the tender, he worries.  "C'mon
Hoop.  give me some clues here.  I've never done this before.  Whadda
do I do?  WhadoIsay?  Will they like me?  Will they remember?"

Sending messages of greeting, Doejin scans for weapons and activity
modes.   I will send voice messages in response to any communications 
query.  


- - --Deep in the bowels of R-alpha--
Iasic notices a new kind of surface activity, and begins to reprogram
himself onto an outer portal.


================== Back in Space ==================

Aboard the Alcyon, systems go into standby as a skeleton, volunteer,
crew prepare for a long, perhaps permanent, wait.  The small ships
quickly accelerate away from Alcyon.  No one waves good-bye.  In
engineering, a melted, fused, lamp, won't get changed.

Sensors on all five pick ships up the signal as one:

"Welcome, welcome" in a slightly (about 20 years) out-of-date ganglic.
It comes from a moving source near the ring, and is accompanied by
an active EM scan.  Trained psi's also hear the message psionically
repeated.  "We welcome you, our visitors.  Come visit.  Come share
play."

Nishu spots it first.  "Small ship.  Shuttle or Pinnace.  Hydrogen
drive with reaction boost.  Coming in our general direction.  No
weapons systems readouts.  Too far away still to count life forms.

At that moment, the ship furthest out is the first to hear:

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday this is Scout six eight Alpha Charlie ISS
Bernoulli.  We have one Ael Yael aboard, one dead, explosion aboard.  Jump
Drive out.  Maneuver drive damaged.  We have life support, and fuel for
five zero four hours.  Request assistance.  We have wounded aboard.
Transponder set for double seven double zero.  This is the ISS Bernoulli
broadcasting on one two one point five."

The message is in a loop broadcast by the ships computer with updated fuel
readings.  There's not much fuel aboard.  Sensors indicate a jump transition
has just occurred about 25 light-minutes away, and the ship is now somewhat 
outbound, well off the ecliptic, retrograde.


{Now, see the PBEM admin turn...}
- - -- 
Lucan is a Pansy!                                     Richard Johnson
The TML is a joke.                             richard@agora.rain.com


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

Archive-Message-Number: 2694
Date: Tue, 30 Jul 1991 01:23 CDT
From: KELLOGG@ducvax.auburn.edu
Subject: High Speed Projectiles

Hello again,

Time to go over the 1/10C projectile again...

Scout Ship has accel of 2 G's.  As such it will reach 1/10 speed of light
in (oops don't have my calculator...)  approx 5 days (?)  at which point
you toss your one cubic centimeter lead pellets out the airlock.

No big deal.

No Big mass driver

No Particle accelerator

If you use a 1 G Free trader multiply the time reqired by 2.  A damn cheap
doomsday weapon if you ask me.

And for those of you who say an atmostphere will protect you...
Remember that pellet still has the same energy.  It just gets transferred
to the atmosphere.  ie an atmospheric release of energy instead of on
impact.  If you use say a Cubic meter of lead, it will release
energy in the range of Gigatons of TNT.  YES GIGAtons.

That is a very lot of energy.  one billion tons of TNT.

No atmosphere will protect you.  Kilometers of overhead rock won't either
You are Dead  DEAD Dead dead Dead Dead dead deaD.

As far as I know, there is no navigational deflector (ala star trek) in
Trav, and as I said before, it would have 16 seconds to pick up the target
and act on it before the object streaked from Far Orbit range to impact.

No Defence.  Well, you might try shifting your orbit randomly if you are
a ship or a space station (I'm sure they do to prevent this)  But a
ground target is dead.  On the other hand, If you got a stooge in the
control tower, they could order an orbiting craft into the correct orbit
in order to destroy it.  But I'll leave that to you intelligence types.

Sorry for the rambling, it's 1:23 am here...

Good night,

Scott Kellogg
Physicist at Large

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

Archive-Message-Number: 2695
Date: Mon, 29 Jul 91 23:47:21 -0700
From: George William Herbert <gwh@ocf.Berkeley.EDU>
Subject: High Speed Projectiles ...


	I'd always assumed that the reason weapons like that weren't used
by anyone, ever, was that they were 'unthinkable'.  If you've read the series
of Foundation books by Asimov, you may recall mention of the fact that nobody
ever considers using nuclear or like weapons against planets... the one 
admiral ever to propose it was lynched by his own fleet.
	It's a massive balance of terror.  It's such an obvious threat,
like nukes and bio warfare, that you probably would see enemies band together
to stop such assaults.  Permanently, if need be.
	I would assume that weapons like biiiig mass drivers that give a 
projectile enough energy to be nuclear-class fit under the Imperial 
Weapons of Mass Destruction laws, too...  [see Imperial High Justice Crimes,
spec. _Manufacture of Prohibited Weapons_ (HAF-M Universal Legal Profile),
_Posession " " "_ (HAD-M), _Use " " "_ (HAF-MV), and probably a charge
of _Waging Illegal War_ for the hell of it (HAF-MV).  Challenge 50, pp 22-26,
and appropriate Imperial Code sections (go buy it now if you didn't already
8-) ]

- - -george

(ps- is anyone interested in the Imperial Ministry of Justice?  feeler for
potential followup article...)


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

Archive-Message-Number: 2696
Date: 30 Jul 91 10:09:37 EDT
From: Leonard Erickson <70465.203@CompuServe.COM>
Subject: High speed projectiles

Tony Hayes:

>I've been reading the posts on hurling various things at other things
>as an attack, interesting but problematic.  There seem to be two
>classes of objects to be thrown, kg sized at moderate velocities (10's
>of km/sec) and gm sized at fractional light velocities (10,000's of
>km/sec).  There would then be two classes of targets, ships and
>planets (space stations are so small compared to planets that they
>will be treated as ships). 

Actually, there are *four* classes:
1. Large & slow (asteroid?)
	mass: million of tons and up
	speed: 1-50 km/sec
	delivery system: requires installing ship class drives on a
		suitable "rock" and using *lots* of fuel
	detection: easily detected by a medium tech level civilization
		(but *we* would be in trouble!)
	defense: difficult to destroy, you tend to get a *nasty* meteor
		shower. Deflection is easier *if* time permits.
		Atmosphere is not a defense!
 
2. medium and fast (ship?)
	mass: hundreds of tons
	speed: 50-500 km/sec
	delivery system: Requires an expendable ship, and a lot of
		fuel. Maybe drop tanks and an AI?
	detection: normal
	defense: somewhat more difficult than against a normal ship

3. small and fast
	mass: tens of kg
	speed: 10-100 kn/sec
	delivery system: Requires a mass driver we could build *now*.
		And which would fit in a medium size ship
		(disassembled). You set it up on a convenient asteriod
		or build extra bracing and attach it to a comet
		nucleues (free fuel!)
	detection: *very* difficult. An 8 kg steel projectile occupies
		approximately one liter. that's a ridiculously small
		cross section for most detector systems. And this thing
		will be at ambient temperature, and could easily have
		an anti-radar coating.
	defense: unlikely. This will hit as hard as a large missile.
		And the odds of a *natural* impact in this range is so
		rare that non-military vessels and installations won't
		be armored against it.  (note that in the (low* end of
		this speed range a *paint flake* blasted a 1-cm pit
		into a shuttle window). Planetary atmosphere should be
		a decent defense, but not guaranteed. (They'd be like
		an artillery barrage if they hit the ground intact,
		which *is* doable!)

4. very small and oh-my-god!
	mass: grams
	speed: 1000+ km/sec
	delivery system: requires one *hell* of a mass driver or
		railgun, but possibly doable even now. Maybe
		installable in a large ship.
	detection: impossible in any practical sense.
	defense: impossible in any practical sense. Atmosphere is a
		defense except for projectiles at a high fraction of
		c. They will not only cause blast effects, but massive
		radiation problems. (at above 1/10th c this is
		effectively one *big* cosmic ray, and will generate a
		shower of secondaries that will be lethal on the
		surface!)

Adrian Hurt:
>Just how much acceleration can a good mass-driver deliver?  If the
ship is
>on the order of 100's of metres long and the mass-driver is spinally
mounted
>(so it is as long as the ship), then the acceleration needed is on the
order
>of 10**11 m/s**2.

I don't have any figures handy. I *may* try bothering a casual
acquaintance at Lawrence Livermore Labs who has worked on railguns and
massdrivers. I've seen an (unused) test projectile. A 1 cm x 1 cm x
.4 cm  block of glass reinforced by some sort of fibers (boron?). They
don't use steel because it *flows* at these accelerations... (If I
remember something from an unrelated bit of trivia properly, this means
they must be doing better than 10^7 gs, as a 10^7 g centrifuge exists
and is built of steel...)

I *think* they were getting 10-100 kn/s out of something less than 10
meters long. And dangerous velocities out of a *one* meter unit.

Any materials sciense folks out there care to look up what pressure it
takes to make steel flow noticeably in *milliseconds*? 

The real trick is that a railgun *eats* power. All that kinetic energy
has to be fed into the gun as power. On the other hand, it's very
eficient at making the conversion. 



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

End of TML Bundle
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