From frobozz at eyrie.org Sun Jun 1 13:15:29 2008 From: frobozz at eyrie.org (Frobozz) Date: Sun Jun 1 13:15:31 2008 Subject: SG: Aurora #49 - Though My Soul May Set In Darkness... (Part One of Two) Message-ID: The Detroit river has always been one of the best kept secrets of Canadians who live in or around the Windsor/Detroit area. While the city of Windsor itself had for quite some time taken an extended and headlong plunge straight down the crapper, somehow the city's waterfront had remained a balm for even the weariest of souls. Beautiful gardens combined with a breathtaking lake view of Detroit -- a city whose own many sins seemed washed away by merest application of water -- to provide a setting where one could find peace and solitude amidst the bustle of an otherwise busy urbana. Daphne Anesthetic sat perched on the railing that separated most park-goers from the choppy Detroit river and watched as the Peace Fountain shot a torrent of water high into the air. The day's breeze was perfect, wafting a light aftershock of mist back towards Aurora's jailer. Daphne closed her eyes and let the cooling water caress her face, experiencing one of those rare, perfect moments of bliss when the simplest pleasure could pay off startling dividends. "You -know- that's not safe, girl," came a voice from behind Daphne, pulling her out of her comfortable thoughts . "Someone might come along and give you a shove and then where'd you be?" "In the drink, duh," she replied as she opened eyes, settling them on the distant, misty skyline rather than turning to regard the speaker. "That's why they've got these rescue rings stashed on the fence every like ten millimeters. They expect everyone to fall in a few times, so there's three buoys for every girl." "Trust me, you don't want that," said the interloper, leaning against the railing next to Daphne. "I know it looks all calm, but there's a killer current down there. You get in, you're going for a ride to Elvis knows where." "Don't you have some chillun to go tell that Santa's just a figment of their imagination? I was -tryin'- to enjoy some peace and friggin' quiet, maybe bliss out for a bit after a hard day. And here you go and ruin it all by talking." Daphne paused. "And by being here in the first place." "How sharper than a serpent's tooth," sighed the speaker. "You sure h'ain't changed." "You seem to've. Quoting? What's with that? You decided cracking a book wouldn't kill you after all?" "Turns out that there's only so much to do in prison. After you've had your name tattooed on your butt and shanked a few guys on a Friday night just for something to do, really there's not a whole lot left other'n to wait for the book cart to come around. Though I suppose you can also learn a handy trade in the production of toilet wine..." "Yeah, yeah. Fine, so you're literate now. Anyway, I heard the buzz that you were getting out." "The fact that you were here rather than in Hamilton to meet me speaks volumes." "Did'ja really expect anything different, Cal?" Daphne asked, finally glancing over her shoulder. Cal Anesthetic, her father -- recently ranked worst father in Canada for ten non-consecutive years running in an internal poll held by Daphne at several local pubs -- stood there at parade rest behind her. To her surprise, she noticed that her father's face had a strange new quality to it, one she'd never seen on it before. She couldn't for the life of her figure out the nature of that quality, so being herself, she just let it drop. "I mean seriously. How did you think that story would end?" "Expect, no. Not even for a moment. But a father is allowed to hope." "Yeah, well. What're you doing here? Or did your 'daughter's doing something even slightly wrong' senses tingle? And you rushed -right- over to pretend like you had a right to comment?" "Actually, I came to see you, Daphne." "And you knew where I was how, again?" "Your friends at Aurora told me." "Some friends," Daphne snorted, casting her gaze back at the waters so that the anger in her eyes wouldn't be too obvious. "To be fair, none of them would willingly give me the time of day. However, with the help of some advanced interrogation techniques..." "Y'know, there are days when I'm -so- damned glad you never raised me. I can just imagine my prom date getting water-boarded." "Yeah, well," replied Anesthetic, with a shrug. "Look. I know... really, I know... that you don't owe me an Elvis-damned thing. I also know that where I'm concerned, you've got every right not to have a generous bone in your body." "First thing I can agree with so far. Want to go for two?" "But I'm -asking- for a few minutes of your time. Here. Out in public. With the populations of two cities and two nations watching us to make sure that I don't try anything that you consider, you know... " "Skeevy," replied Daphne, her voice carefully schooled to neutrality. "Why, Cal? It's not like we have a lot to talk about. We could've once, but..." "I know, Daphne. We have a lot of buts between us. And that's... well. That's my fault. Completely. I know that. But let's put it this way. I've come here and I've asked you for something. I didn't demand it... I didn't try to brow-beat it out of you. I've accepted that the reason we've come to this point is because of me, and only me. So far, doesn't it sound like maybe I -might- have something new to say to you instead of the same old bluster? And one more thing." "S'at?" "I've got a vested interest in not pissing you off. 'cause between the old man and the old man river sucking you away, I'm betting you'd be willing to jump and take your chances with the one who's all wet." "Which one's all wet's a matter of opinion. But... 'kay, Cal." She turned so that she could perch facing Anesthetic. "You've got five minutes. After that, I'm gone. And if this is some kind of plea to forgive you, forget it. I'm not the forgiving kind." "Just like your mother," replied Anesthetic with a sigh. "No. I understand. And I only need one." "Then g'on with it, will you?" "Fine. Daphne... I wasn't the worst kind of father to you. I was, instead, the worst sort of -man- to you and to most people around me. There were reasons for it, but this ain't the time for reasons. I've done a lot to you... to everyone... that needs apologizing for. And Daphne... I'm sorry." Daphne waited for him to go on. After a moment she frowned. "That's it? Just 'I'm sorry'?" "That's it, yeah." "-That's- supposed to make it all better, Cal? Two words? That makes up for it all?" "No, Daphne. That's not supposed to make it better. Nothing's supposed to make it all better. But like I said... I've hurt a lot of people. There's no way I can make even a little of that hurt better. The only thing I can do is own up to what I did. And then walk away." "Just like that, hunh?" "Just like that. I didn't come here to reconcile with you, Daphne. I came here to tell you that I know just how bad I screwed the pooch. What you do with that? That's your business. I don't have the right to anything more'n that." "You're damned right you don't, Cal." She considered. "What're you doing next?" "Honestly don't know, Daphne," replied Anesthetic, shrugging. "The military won't have me back. I'm still persona non grata with, like, everyone in Canada. So I'm thinking my options as a newly minted pariah are travel, writing my memoires or politics." "Heh," murmured Daphne, mirroring her father's shrug. "Well, 'kay. Cal?" "Yeah, Daphne?" "Don't call." "I understand, Daphne." "Till you finish your book. Then... I wanna read it. First." There was a moment's silence. "I understand, Daphne." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% Chris Angelini/Frobozz Magic Productions -and- Mademoiselle Muse Inc -in association with- 'We Didn't Mean To Colour The Sky Pink, Honest!' Industrial Special Effects and Magic -and- The Overworked and Underpaid Lisa MacDougall (producer) -present- AURORA #49 "Though My Soul May Set In Darkness..." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% It had been a long three years. It has often been said that the reward for good work was more work; and for Aurora nothing had been more true than this. Few enough organizations could sustain space travel on their own. Oh, there were several groups around the world -- mostly organizations of superguys -- who could handle the maintenance and upkeep of one or maybe even two space-going vessels. But by and large, the cost of a sustainable space-program was the province of governments. Thus it was to the governments of the world that Aurora looked for ultimate backing for Doyle's plan to take humankind outside the warm cradle of Sol. And as with all things involving governments, the project was immediately crushed under the epic weight of committee, objection, threat, anger and of course, fear. Under normal circumstances, this would have been where Aurora's space-going plans ended as they were debated into oblivion by the western governments of the world. But, except for the Lagrange stations, Japan's SDF-1 and a handful of alien technologies captured and pressed into use, the world didn't have much in the way of star-travel technology available for public sector usage. Moreover, it was with dawning realisation that the powers of the world came to realise what Aurora was really offering to them: a consistent and maintainable space-exploration technology with an organizational infrastructure for it built right in. Having access to one of the world's two ground-to-orbit elevators didn't hurt Aurora's case either. And so there came an end to the bickering... I'm sorry. Did I say that there was an end to the bickering? I'm sorry, I really meant to say that the bickering exploded in ways never before dreamed of by Doyle. The tale of how The Compromise emerged from out of such sturm and drang is one that involved great men and women of vision and eloquence, who found common cause despite national and ethical divisions and managed to persuade a few dozen charging bulls to avoid the really nice china. It is also a tale for another time. Though no one was completely happy about The Compromise that would give space to the Earth, in the end none of the nations that mattered were completely unhappy either. Aurora's role would expand as a result of The Compromise; it would shed its former, Terrestrial duties, and instead take on responsibility as a world-accessible space organization. Aurora would remain based in Canada in much the same way that the United States provided a home to the UN. Signing countries would reap the benefits of science and exploration equally, and no industrialized nation would be so foolish as to pass on that bounty. Of course, Aurora's autonomy -- so dearly won -- would have to come to an end as a result of The Compromise. Aurora would be compelled to answer to the oversight of a rotating council of countries which ensured that it was behaving in an ethical and representative manner. Initial Crews would be primarily Canadian, but multi-national personnel would begin training with the existing spacefarers to bring a necessary heterogeneity to the organization's makeup. Exploration, scientific study and resource exploitation were immediately placed on the table, along with the restructuring of Aurora's military capacity into a true solar defense fleet. Extra-solar colonization became a topic of heavy discussion. Though things changed only a little for the common man on the ground, the world seemed to grow just a little bit closer together as a result of this dialog. There were still problems. There would -always- be problems. China's presence in the union threatened to kill the deal stillborn. Likewise, Russia's. The Space Security Council was yet another Compromise, one which allowed the larger nations of the world to have a more direct hand in the defense of local space. Few were completely happy with what emerged, but fewer still could turn their backs on the prospect of being able to extend policy past Lunar orbit. And while the nations of the world debated what they would do with this new toy, Aurora had not remained idle. Shipbuilding and crew training had continued in earnest, so that when the world finally decided that they did want Aurora, Aurora was ready for them... *** [[Concluded in part two!]] --- -Chris frobozz@eyrie.org http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz Geek Code GFA/IT/PA d-(+) s--:+> a- C++ UL*++ P+++ L++ E W++ N+ !o !K w++(-) O? M++ V? PS+ PE Y PGP t+ 5++ X+ R+++ tv+ b+++ DI+ D++ G e++>+++ h- r* z? From frobozz at eyrie.org Sun Jun 1 13:15:39 2008 From: frobozz at eyrie.org (Frobozz) Date: Sun Jun 1 13:15:41 2008 Subject: SG: Aurora #49 - Though My Soul May Set In Darkness... (Part Two of Two) Message-ID: [[Continued from part one!]] "It's less than a week now." "I'm sorry!" "Yup... my Beanstalk access gets revoked once the split is official..." "I said I'm sorry!" "I guess we're going to have to find a new place to meet... -all- because you just -had- to go into space..." "Okay, fine," sighed Al Peterson, as he set down his sandwich. "It's all my fault. It's not like I don't get this enough from my mother, but now you John? Et tu?" "Et your sandwich," replied John Clark, grinning to his friend. "Hey, I guess it's not completely your fault. -Doyle-'s the one who put the notion in your head in the first place." "Yeah!" replied Peterson, matching Clark's grin. "It's all his stinking fault!" "To Doyle!" yelled Clark, raising his can of Vernors. "The guy responsible for kicking me and mine out of the Beanstalk!" "To Doyle!" replied Peterson, raising his glass. "Who I'm sure is really sorry too!" Both men chugged their harsh ginger beers and slammed down their respective tumblers. Peterson laughed, then gave his best friend an apologetic look. "Seriously, John. I'm damned sorry about this. But I'm really glad we've been having these weekly get togethers, you know? Space-training with the crew's making it just a little hard to fit anything unscheduled into the roster. I just wish we weren't losing common ground." "Hey, don't worry 'bout it, Al," replied Clark. "It's for the best. To be honest, the moment Doyle started talking about taking Aurora international, I knew this day was coming." "Well, you know... there -is- a way to stay in the 'stalk..." "Thanks but no thanks," replied Clark, waving the notion away with his can. "I've done my soul searching on this already. The 'black' Aurora's just not my bag. Even if I took a ground-based position, I just don't think... yeah. I just don't think I'd fit. If there's one thing I -do- regret, though..." "Yeah?" "It's that you guys're taking the Aurora name away from us. Couldn't you monsters leave us with anything?" "You're not going to let me live that down ever, are you?" "Nope. I figure any time you come back Earth-side, that -alone- is going to be good for cadging a few free drinks off of you before you head back into the dark. And hey... if we wind up with a real stinker of a replacement name, I might be able to double the free beverage." "John... trust me. You're my best friend. You're going half on all the drinks, *forever*." "You say that now, but you have no idea how much guilt I can bring to bear on you. You have not yet begun to be guilted." "Years of living at home've made me immune, you sap." Peterson sighed, shaking his head. "But honestly? It just feels wrong that... we're not going to be working together. Or even in different branches of the same service." Clark shrugged. "There's no way in Hell(tm) that Canada's superguy defense force and the world's black navy could coexist. You guys -have- to avoid the perception of being influenced by the petty needs of your host country. 'course, you know what the real irony of it all is?" "Not a clue. What is it?" "-You're- the one heading into the life of being rules-bound, always-watched and forever-writing-reports. And me? We're probably going to be more devil-may-care than we ever were as Aurora." "Oh Elvis, John, why'd you have to go and depress me like that..." "Heh heh heh. Well, someone has to keep doing it. Otherwise, your head would just keep swelling and swelling..." "No chance of that with you around. Refill?" "You buying?" "Nope, it's your turn, damn your eyes." "Oh fine then. Another round." Clark tapped the table lightly in thought. "This is just between us, okay?" "Hey, you know I'm good with secrets." "Just don't let this be where you stop, okay?" "Okay, okay, fine! I promise not to turn into a gossip. What's the scoop?" "Well..." Clark smiled slowly, looking up at Peterson. "Graham's staying on as leader of the paramilitary forces. But he's admitted... he doesn't have the head for being the overall head." "Oh yeah? So who's taking on -that- thankless task... oh my God." "Mmmhmmm... you guessed it." "Geez, Clark! That's great! Seriously... that is great. Whoever-The-Hell(tm)-You-Guys-Are is in great hands now. This I know for a -fact-." "Thanks, Al. I've got some ideas too. Big ones." "Yeah? Spill." "Well, a bit of a change of direction. In some ways it'll seem like a step back. But personally, I think we've got a great chance to do some good if we start--" Both men were silenced by the sound of Clark's commo sounding off. Clark sighed as he fumbled for the noisy device. "Raincheque?" he asked, rising to his feet. "You better believe it," replied Peterson. "There's no way I'm letting you off the hook. You've got me all intrigued now." "Couldn't've timed it better if I'd tried." "Yo... Clark. I know it's not my business any more, but... what's the emergency?" Clark checked his communications device and let out a laugh. "Wow." "Wow?" "Yeah. Giant mutated cat, threatening the West Edmonton Mall." "Oh damn! That brings back memories..." "Don't it just? Gotta run, Al. See you next week." "Next week," replied Peterson, to Clark's already retreating back. He sat back in his chair and picked up his glass, swishing around its contents for a moment before raising it. "To the past," he murmured. "Because the future ain't what it used to be." Peterson knocked back his drink and rose, leaning only lightly on his cane as he headed out of the Beanstalk's number two rec lounge. *** "Well," began Doyle, as Peterson took his seat in the head of Aurora's office. "Everything I've seen coming from the Trent is looking good. I'm a little surprised at your choice of head of ground force, though. Are you sure it's going to work out?" "If it doesn't," replied Peterson, with a shrug. "Then I don't deserve this captaincy." "True enough," replied Doyle. "Speaking of which, captain, I have some good news and I have some bad news." "Do I get to choose which I hear first?" "No. That would just ruin the presentation. The good news is that as far as the yard's bully boys can tell, the Carol Trent is ship-shape. She's ready for her shakedown cruise." "Doyle?" "Yes, Peterson?" "There is absolutely nothing you could possibly that up with which would ruin my day. You're serious? We're ready? We're finally ready to take it out for a spin?" "Yes. Yes we are, Peterson. I know how much you've been anticipating this day--" "No you don't!" "Ahem. And I know you've shown great patience while military vessel construction got bumped up the queue ahead of your ship--" "Incredible patience! Astounding patience! Patience that would knock the holy socks off a saint!" "Yes, I -do- get the point. At any rate. It's time to take her out for a spin, and once the engineers have had a chance to replace any bolts that shake loose, she's yours. I've persuaded the signing nations that exploration needn't take a backseat to in-system defense." "So... when? Seriously, when?" "Five days. It's the minimum time we need to get your orders draughted and, more importantly, recall your crew from leave. Speaking of which..." "Is this the 'bad news' I've been hearing so much about?" "I'm afraid so, Peterson. As part of the compromise in advancing the exploration budget, the signing nations have insisted that exploratory crews be... 'diverse'." "Define, please?" "Naturally. They want representation on our ships. Imagine," said Doyle, his voice becoming dry. "If Canadians were the only ones to make first contact. Why that would just be awful for the universe, wouldn't it?" "Uhn hunh," replied Peterson, fighting to control his emotions. "So what does this mean for the Trent? We've been training together long enough that I don't think drop-in crew replacement is going to work so well." "That's the argument I made to the nations, and after... lengthy... discussion, I brought them around to our point of view. The Trent will enjoy a partial exemption to the new policy... your officer core will remain intact. But several key specialists -- notably in medical, heroic, first contact and science -- will be added to your roster. This is a potential blessing in disguise, Peterson. Your ship -will- benefit from cross pollination of other points of view." "Yeah... yeah, I know Doyle. I just hope this doesn't lead to any us versus them mentalities on-board." "I know. But Peterson? If it does..." "It's the captain's job to squash them. I know. Seriously." Peterson essayed a grin. "Like I said, none of this is going to put a damper on my day. There's not a lot I wouldn't sacrifice for the chance to go... out -there- again. With the chance to look around and say howdy, instead of fighting anyone we meet." "I completely understand that," replied Doyle. "I--" The computer personality paused, frowning. "Well." "Yo? Can you tell me what it is, or is this above my pay grade?" "I'm honestly not sure whose pay grade it falls into, Peterson. One of the DEW stations we've been placing in the outer system is chirruping. It seems that something small and unknown is entering the solar system under its own power. And it's sophont-made." "We sure?" "It made a course correction. It's either artificied or it's a really fastidious comet." "Doyle? I have a -wonderful- idea..." "No. I know what you're thinking, and it's absolutely out of the question." "Why? This would be perfect. We need to shake down the crew as well as the ship, you know..." "What crew? Most of them are still someplace sunny, enjoying the idea of having weather for another few days." "We have a skeleton crew in-'stalk, Doyle. Which includes almost all the officers. We could take the Trent out there, meet and greet... " "And if it turns out to be hostile?" "We run and hide till one of the Big Cows can get our fat out of the fire. C'mon, Doyle. You know this is one of those rare everybody wins situations" Doyle sighed, shaking his head. "I'm probably going to regret this..." "No," said Peterson, all trace of whimsy vanished from his voice as he levered himself up on his cane. "No you won't. This is it, and if you think I'm going to blow it... you don't know me very well." "Peterson... I have every faith in you. But not every crisis comes from being a screwup. Your ship is untested and this contact is completely unknown." "The ship'll hold together, Doyle. I've seen the yard reports. She's been tested in-dock. This isn't where we find out if we've accidentally hooked the engines up to the microwave. This is where we see if she stalls when we put her into seventy-second gear. And this is where we see if we can get our hash together while there's still an Earth nearby to bail us out if we can't. It makes sense on every level." "I'm not sure I agree with it making sense on -every- level. But your point is made. I'll activate as much of your crew as I possibly can. You have six hours to launch. By that point the object is expected to be within the orbit of Uranus. No jokes." "Trust me. -That- joke got made to death in the first week of training. Sir. Thank you -sir-." Doyle smiled and saluted Peterson. "Make Earth proud, Al. You already have me." *** "That... is one trashed mall," exclaimed Clark, as he stared down at the gigantic shopping-plex below. "Forget the mall," replied Jack Wynn, leader of Mythos, who was also staring out of the window of the troop transport. "Look at the size of the cat!" "Yeah, they can get a bit big if you feed them too much... and expose them to strange and hideous radiations. Now there's a trick to fighting giant cats..." "You're kidding me." "Not even a bit. This isn't even our first mall-cat-grudge match." "I had no idea this was such an epidemic. Does Sally Struthers know? And what's this secret?" "Don't. Shoot. Them. It makes a mess, it makes them mad, and it traumatizes the kiddies who watch the fight on the news that night." "Subdue and capture time? I see why you wanted us along." "Yeah." Clark hesitated, then shrugged and continued. "Actually, that's half the reason I wanted Mythos along. The other half is that I wanted to have a chin wag with you." "Sorry. But... did you actually use the phrase 'chin wag'?" "Yes, I did, and I'm not going to apologize." "I'm not saying that you -have- to. Only... well... " "Can we drop this?" "I'm not sure I can ever fully drop it. But go on. What are we talking about? This isn't about asking for my blessing, is it?" "In a sense it is. But... and I feel really slimy saying it this way... it's not about Karen." "Well, I'm intrigued. What do you need to talk about?" "Not now. We're almost to the LZ. But after, we need to hit a bar. I have some ideas about the future of Aurora. And you're the top guy on my list to talk to..." *** Peterson grinned as his transport capsule slid through its tube towards the SS Carol Trent. He'd taken this trip more than once in the past three years, but this time was different. This wasn't a walk-through inspection, nor was it another dry-run live-board training exercise. This time, it was for real. At his say-so, the ship would glide out into space. Something unknown would be made known. And then... who knew where this moment of decision would next take them. That was the point of it all, wasn't it? -No- one knew what lay ahead, and the notion of finding out fired Peterson's soul. "She's a beauty, is she nae?" murmured Colleen, her voice drawing Peterson out of his reverie. "T'is the finest ship I've had the privilege to work 'pon. An' I promise you, she will nae let you down." "I believe it, fair Girleen," replied Peterson, turning to smile down at the redheaded engineering genius. "On first sight, I knew that she was the love of my life. I may have to kiss you for delivering my Truest to me." "Ach, nay," laughed Colleen, shaking her head. "Ye'd make two very jealous should you do that." "Oh? My dear ship, she doesn't have to see." He winked to Colleen, who rolled her eyes. "Nah, nay her. One who abides... and one who waits for -me- tae get off work." "Colleen... you -minx-. Congratulations. When did -this- happen?" "Oh, last year," replied Colleen, airily waving away the notion of it being anything special. "T'is nothing yet. We're but seeing if there are sparks past the first." "I am... truly happy for you, Girleen. After what you went through the past few..." He shook his head. "No one deserves happiness more." "We can discuss -that- another day. For now, t'is time for ye to kiss your one an' only hello." "Yes. Yes it is," said Peterson, as the capsule came to rest inside one of the Trent's docking areas. "Hey, would you like to come with?" Colleen snorted lightly. "Nae, sirrah. I'm here tae oversee the transfer of power from external tae internal and then I shall return to the safe confines of the Beanstalk, while ye and yer insane rabble voyage forth tae seek who -knows- what." "Ah well, I tried my best. You can't blame me, can you?" Peterson paused, then leaned down and pecked the engineer's cheek just before the capsule's doors slid open. "Permission to come aboard, major?" "Permission granted," replied head of the Trent's ground forces, major Chambers, in her usual lovely sing-song. "Welcome to the Carol Trent, captain. Why is Colleen blushing like that?" "Who can say?" replied Peterson, looking impish as he stepped above his ship. "I relieve you, major." "I stand relieved. No seriously, she's lit up light a Christmas tree. What did you do to her?" "Unspeakable and vile things, of course. Shall we to the bridge?" "Of course, captain. Tell me or at some random point during the cruise I'll organize the entire crew in a continuous chorus of 'are we there yet?'" "That's just a risk I'm going to have to take, major. Colleen, this is where we part ways. I'll see you again when we've shaken down and we need your yard boys to correct -all- their mistakes." "In a pig's eye, Peterson," replied Colleen, sticking out her tongue. "Fare thee well an' safe voyages." "Thank you, 'leen. For everything." Peterson turned back to Chambers. "Are you as excited as I am?" "Not a blessed chance. You're looking like a kid who's about to get ten Christmas' worth of gifts in one day, and then have sixteen birthday celebrations right after. How could I compete with that? Let's get you to the bridge before your head pops from the excitement." Peterson grinned and offered an arm. After just a moment, Chambers accepted it and escorted her captain from the docking area to an elevator tube. Colleen watched them go, then shook her head. "T'will be interesting," she remarked to nobody, as she stepped into her own transport tube. "Now, let's shall we see how well ye light yer own fires, dear?" She rested her hand on the Trent's metal and smiled. Even if she would be staying safe on Earth, a bit of her would go forth with this ship. And -that- was a legacy she could live with. *** This issue is mine, mine, mine and you can't have it. Nyah and copyright belongs to Frobozz/Chris Angelini, 2008. Mess with my legal rights and I'll send over Gggthstx to discuss 'fair use' with you. Email to frobozz@eyrie.org. Homepage at http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz. --- -Chris frobozz@eyrie.org http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz Geek Code GFA/IT/PA d-(+) s--:+> a- C++ UL*++ P+++ L++ E W++ N+ !o !K w++(-) O? M++ V? PS+ PE Y PGP t+ 5++ X+ R+++ tv+ b+++ DI+ D++ G e++>+++ h- r* z?