Hmm. Can we have the Precursors return or something? xD This ride is starting to feel like a Rolls-Royce piloted by Selkirk: flawless, exquisite, but no adrenaline. Not that I'm complaining. Just itching. (Please feel free to ignore my whining, I would, lol - I'm sure you've got everything all planned out, and I wouldn't want to change whatever that is.)
Wrong place to ask that question. The chances of it getting into the actual game are numbers too small for me to write. The chances of it getting into Borealis Rising are significantly higher, but still small.
Long story short, no, it will not get implemented.
Hmm. Can we have the Precursors return or something? xD This ride is starting to feel like a Rolls-Royce piloted by Selkirk: flawless, exquisite, but no adrenaline. Not that I'm complaining. Just itching. (Please feel free to ignore my whining, I would, lol - I'm sure you've got everything all planned out, and I wouldn't want to change whatever that is.)
Absolutely correct. I do have a definite plan for the rest of this story.
Also, bear in mind that the Rolls-Royce has done some serious off-road work recently. We're simply running the old girl through the car wash.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please be advised that we are now on final approach. I remind you to remain seated while docking manoeuvres are in progress. After disembarking, please proceed directly to the central atrium for a short safety briefing and accommodation assignments. Refreshments will also be provided. Thank you."
As Exodus neared the lava massif that concealed The Broch, holographic navigation beacons activated, marking the entrance to the moon pool access tunnel. An obvious sign that our base defence system has interrogated the submersible's IFF transponder and received an appropriate response. Docking request granted, minus a somewhat pointed flash-bang-boom refusal. This is generally reserved for any unwelcome guests, either human or xeno. As you might expect after the De Ruyter affair, I became considerably more particular about letting random bodies stroll into any of my bases unannounced.
However, this wasn't the case with these colonists. With Polyakov and his cronies dead and gone, I have no valid reason to anticipate any further shenanigans from the Belters. Naturally, I've taken adequate measures to ensure that certain parts of The Broch are tightly secured, although it's more from a civilian safety perspective than anything. There are quite a few wee bairns among this lot, and we don't want them fiddling with things well beyond their pay grade. Code-locked doors and a plethora of nasty warning signs should be quite sufficient. Fusion reactors are definitely not toys.
Exodus surfaced in the moon pool, wallowing gently for a moment or two. I waited until the worst of its motion had subsided, then activated the graviton lifters. The submersible rose smoothly out of the water, rotated 180 degrees and slowly reversed toward its docking collar. Rather than subject our colonists to the moon pool's high atmospheric pressure, followed by a lengthy decompression sequence, this transfer would take place with a minimum of fuss. Considering how some folks reacted to the decontamination procedure, stress levels are running pretty high at the moment.
Yes, I admit that I've become a proper old mother hen lately, but considering what lies ahead, I have no bloody choice. Once Borealis reaches deep space, we're facing a 50-year trip back to Terra. Believe me, you don't want to start something like that unless everyone aboard is in full possession of their marbles. Morale is everything at this point. Putting everyone into cryo-stasis for the full duration of the trip isn't a viable option either, since significant synaptic degradation occurs after five years or so in deep freeze. Science hasn't licked that problem yet, unfortunately. To play it safe, the colonists will be cycled through a four years-in, one year-out cryo schedule to allow their bodies sufficient time to repair any physiological damage that may have occurred during cryosleep.
Naturally, the crew and I will be on watch for the full duration of the voyage. You lucky buggers.
With IANTO and DIGBY still working on Kaori-san no-shima, it fell to JUNO and me to get the colonists all sorted out. Fortunately, we were using a simple RFID tag system linked to their PDAs. Each colonist is issued with a tag that leads them to their assigned berth, and family groups can be accommodated with a quick application of the Builder tool, if necessary. The whole process took us slightly less than fifteen minutes to complete. All up, that sudden burst of activity wasn't particularly harrowing, but that didn't stop me from heaving a deep sigh of relief when it was finally over. There's just enough time to grab a quick brew, then it's time to welcome our guests aboard.
I felt it prudent to wait until the colonists had finished their breakfast. The autogalleys were still doing a fairly brisk trade at the moment, so I allowed myself the luxury of a second mug of tea. I looked up and noticed Héloise circulating among the tables at the far end of the atrium, chatting amiably with her friends and colleagues. Rather than barge in and interrupt her conversation, I stood and waved to attract her attention. Thankfully, her foul mood seems to have abated somewhat, at least according to her cheerful smile as she waved back in reply. A few minutes later, Héloise plonked herself down beside me.
"All is forgiven, then?" I asked cautiously.
She laughed delightedly.
"Oui. I had no idea it would be so cold going through that shower! What the hell did you expect me to say, Chérie?"
"Under those circumstances... Well, pretty much anything, I suppose." I admitted. "I take it your comment about 'freezing it and snapping it off' was an entirely spur of the moment thing?"
"You might say that. Anyway, now that you've dragged us down to your dark and foreboding lair... What's the plan, my Captain?" Héloise grinned, helping herself to a round of my toast and jam.
I shrugged.
"There's nothing actually planned for them at this stage. Consider this a three-day sleepover or holiday, although your people might organise some festivities if they feel like it. We've got an open house policy here, so feel free to do whatever you want. Within reason, of course. Obviously, our Cyclops and Seamoth fleets are completely off-limits, unless one of the crew is in command. That means no unsupervised joyrides, I'm afraid. That reminds me... Looks like breakfast is nearly over. I'd best let everyone know our house rules before they start wandering off."
I stood up and straightened my jumpsuit as befits a proper Captain, then amped up my voice-box.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. First off, welcome to The Broch. I sincerely apologise for any inconvenience or discomfort you may have experienced during this temporary relocation. The decontamination of Kaori-san no-shima is proceeding as scheduled, and you will be able to return in three day's time. In the meantime, you are most welcome to avail yourself of our facilities. However, please be aware that certain areas have been secured against all unauthorised access. These areas contain critical equipment such as power generation, life support, vehicle bays and base defence systems. Crew quarters are also off-limits, and I ask that you respect our privacy. Should you require assistance with any matter, please use one of the base information terminals or directly contact a crew member. In an emergency situation, use any one of the terminals to sound an alert, and the crew shall respond immediately. As a general reminder, our autogalleys may be used at any time, and a wide range of entertainment media is available for your enjoyment. Please make yourselves at home. Spasiba."
A wee bit long-winded, I'll admit. However, I could only hear appreciative murmurs among the colonists, and not one whisper of dissent. Outstanding.
Presently, the general hubbub of clattering food trays and departing diners began tapering off. I gulped down the last mouthful of tea in my mug, gave Héloise a heartfelt hug, then jogged off to the bridge.
Tell people there are dangerous and off-limits areas- Check
Lots of people in an enclosed space- Check
Multiple days of free time- Check
I'd say this is the perfect recipe for death and disaster.
Or maybe I've been reading too much Flagship Eclipse.
Boy, I sure am excited for Alien Covenant.
C'mon, I don't think Buggyzopper is as sadistic as yours truly when it comes to these sorts of things.
I've been known to talk in my sleep, checking off all the dead people like a serial killer.
EDIT: And I never got the phrase off-limits... surely if there are places you can't go they're limits. My room's off-limits; there's nothing limiting me from my room. From now on I'm going to be saying on-limits. I don't care if people don't understand, I'll feel better about myself. Me ranting about the phrase off-limits in this edit has gone on longer than the actual post. I think this is a good time to stop.
"Sir! Sonar contact, bearing zero seven-one. Range, two thousand, two hundred metres. Depth, three seven-five metres. Speed, fifteen knots. Target is confirmed as biological."
"Very good, Mister Savini. Set base to Condition Yellow."
"Condition Yellow, aye Sir. Repulsion turrets are online. Torpedo loads are set to Concussion."
I nodded. "You are cleared to launch upon confirmation of target motion analysis. Weapons free."
"Target motion analysis is complete, Sir. Acoustic signature confirmed as Reaper Leviathan, designation: 'Binky'. Firing solution is locked in and tracking on launchers Charlie and Delta."
"Copy that. Set Condition Amber. Proceed, Mister Savini"
"Condition Amber, aye. Target aspect has changed. Speed, twenty-five knots. Approach vector is now zero niner-five, range nineteen hundred and closing."
"I'd say he's coming in for a closer look, wouldn't you?" I said calmly. "What's the current status on that repair crew working over Blood Kelp Canyon way?"
"All divers retrieved and onboard within seventy-five seconds of recall, Sir. Esperanza is already underway. Esperanza commander is re-routing to West docking port, as per emergency protocol. ETA to The Broch, twelve minutes."
"Good. That should keep them out of the line of fire. Our friend Binky is coming in hot and strong."
"One thousand metres. Firing solution is good. Launchers are locked on target. Eight hundred metres... Firing. First salvo away, running straight and hot. Time to impact, thirty seconds."
Suddenly, the seabed motion sensor display lit up. A hazy mass of life forms had materialized only six hundred metres out from The Broch, and they were definitely on the move toward us.
"Repulsion turrets E-5, E-6, E-7 firing on automatic proximity detection. Negative contact with target on both torpedoes. I say again, negative contact with target. Your orders, Sir?"
"Change torpedo loadout to Toxin Alpha. Two salvos, all turrets. Rapid fire. Detonation range 500."
"Two salvos, Toxin Alpha aye, Sir. Turrets are loaded and ready. Firing."
Torpedoes erupted from all defence turrets, a swarm of silver hornets roared through the water. They barely had time to clear The Broch's outer defence perimeter before detonating simultaneously, throwing up a dense corrosive cloud before the approaching Leviathan and its as-yet unknown allies. The vanguard of the larger force sheered away in frenzied panic, repelled by its first contact with drifting tendrils of concentrated Gasopod toxin billowing out from the detonation zone.
They're too gorram close. If that toxin cloud doesn't hold them back, we're in serious trouble.
"off-limits" means more or less "outside of the allowable limits"
But that would refer to a person who is outside the off-limit area. Calling a place off-limits is different, I think.
This is beginning to be a bit of a de-rail, so if you feel the need, @Foxy go ahead and move it:
The statement would be: "This area is off- (that is, out of) limits (the acceptable area)". You're operating from the position of the "limits" (acceptable area), and saying that the no-go zone is off / outside of it. In other words, do not go past where you are now, it is forbidden to trespass here.
out of bounds.
"they declared the site off limits"
synonyms: out of bounds, forbidden, banned, restricted, unacceptable, taboo
"access to their mother's workshop was strictly off limits"
not to be mentioned or discussed.
"it was apparent that the whole topic was off limits"
"off-limits" means more or less "outside of the allowable limits"
But that would refer to a person who is outside the off-limit area. Calling a place off-limits is different, I think.
This is beginning to be a bit of a de-rail, so if you feel the need, @Foxy go ahead and move it:
The statement would be: "This area is off- (that is, out of) limits (the acceptable area)". You're operating from the position of the "limits" (acceptable area), and saying that the no-go zone is off / outside of it. In other words, do not go past where you are now, it is forbidden to trespass here.
out of bounds.
"they declared the site off limits"
synonyms: out of bounds, forbidden, banned, restricted, unacceptable, taboo
"access to their mother's workshop was strictly off limits"
not to be mentioned or discussed.
"it was apparent that the whole topic was off limits"
Okay, I get it now
Just thought it was one of those times two words are smashed together even though they don't mean anything together. I can't think of any examples right now, but I know they exist, and I know that under any other circumstances those two words wouldn't make sense together.
Thank you for proving to me that off-limits was not an example of this. It was noice.
"Do we have a positive I.D on the composition of that main force yet?"
"Negative, Sir. They are using some kind of bio-electric distortion field to mask their approach." Savini said. "Commencing multi-spectrum EM scanning. Acoustic signature and motion analysis is consistent with Crabsquid swarming behaviour, 95.8 per cent confidence. Be advised that there are several anomalous sonar returns inside the swarm itself. Unable to identify, thus far."
"Make ready another two salvos. Set detonation range to 400 metres. Keep a close eye on that toxin concentration. If it falls below 1000 parts per million, they'll rush in and overwhelm the outer defence ring."
"Two salvos, Toxin Alpha loaded. Ready to fire, Sir." Savini replied. "Repulsion turrets E-1 and E-2 are engaging the Leviathan on proximity detection... He's coming in!"
"Sneaky bastard." I growled. "He's swung around to the very end of the defence arc. He knows that our repulsion cannons can't do much damage to him, so he's going to chance it. He could do some serious mischief when he gets among those torpedo turrets..."
Judging by his sudden change of expression, Enzo has realised what is happening.
Trojan horse.
"Sir! The Leviathan is a decoy! - Those Crabsquids and whatever it is they're hiding are the main targets... Request permission to activate the TRIDENT defence array."
"Well spotted, Mister Savini. Incidentally, I was wondering when you'd ask about that." I grinned. "Authorisation: Selkirk, A. F. Authentication sequence: Echo, Sierra, Tango, Five, Two, Sigma. Weapon is enabled. You now have full control."
"Amplitude is set at twenty per cent. Frequency, seven Hertz. Range-gate set, two hundred metres. Weapon stands ready in all respects. Awaiting your firing order, Sir."
I nodded approvingly, then tapped out a command to power down the TRIDENT system and terminate the simulation. There's no truly safe 'practice shot' setting for a weapon system that can pulverise solid basalt. Feeling particularly splendid at this point, I tilted the command chair way back into a more pleasing and totally non-regulation seating angle.
"So, JUNO... How did we do?"
"Exceedingly well, Captain. Mister Savini appears to have a natural aptitude for tactical analysis and weapons control. His performance during the simulation was highly commendable, as was his adherence to established procedures and a formal command structure. I believe that we may have found our Weapons Officer, Sir."
"I agree. Now DIGBY will have someone to boss around." I laughed. "Seriously though, I conjure you'd make a cracking Gunner, Enzo. Borealis will need a fair-sized crew, and if you're game to take the shilling, you'll be the first to make your mark. What do you say, Mister Savini?"
Enzo gaped in disbelief. "Wha? - I thought we were... under attack?"
I wondered whether the Reapers and Crabsquid's rebellious behaviour against the Sea Emperor would come into play later. And the Warpers seemed to fear both, so they probably won't help our intrepid heroes.
"Afraid not. It was only a simulation." I said. "Well, rather more of an Excalibur Test, actually."
"I have absolutely no idea what an Excalibur Test is, Captain." Enzo admitted.
"It was JUNO's idea. You were hanging around in the corridor outside the Bridge looking all kinds of wistful, and she just up and reeled you in. Reckon you made it pretty obvious you wanted to do something other than sit on your bum all night drinking Creepvine beer... Am I right?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm used to running sensor ops and communications for the colony. Now that I have a much better idea of what I'm supposed to be doing at those consoles, I actually enjoy my job. Just wanted to make myself useful here, if that's okay with you."
I stroked my chin thoughtfully, sizing the chap up. A steady hand and a clear head under pressure, eminently capable of looking beyond what shows up on his scopes. Shows plenty of initiative, yet he manages it without coming off as a fawning butt-creeper. Definitely my first choice as ship's Gunner.
"Enzo, think of that combat simulation as an aptitude test. One you passed with flying colours, I might add. In a few week's time, we'll begin recruiting and training your fellow colonists in earnest. There's a million and one jobs that keep a starship flying, and we're going to need every willing hand that can be mustered from your group. There's also the social angle to consider. Sure, me and the crew could automate the hell out of Borealis, leaving you and the others to twiddle your thumbs for the next 50 or so years. Given the reality of our situation, I'm pretty certain that most folks would prefer to be doing something meaningful during their time out of cryo-sleep. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Absolutely, Captain. In fact, I'd like to start my training as soon as possible, if that's okay?"
"First-rate, Ensign Savini! Please report to Commander DIGBY, 0900 tomorrow. He'll bring you up to speed on the precise nature of your role, as well as the new weapon systems you'll be controlling. One more thing. You might want to grab as much free time as you're able. The next couple of months are going to be an absolute beast. Not just for you, either. There's no royal road to mastery of any specialist's field, and Enzo old mate... You've picked a real beauty, at least as far as sheer hard work is concerned. Welcome to the ship's company. Okay, that's all for now, Enzo. You're officially dismissed. Hit the mess deck and kick back with a few beers. You've earned it."
Savini eagerly returned my salute, turned and darted off. "Thank you, Captain. See you tomorrow!"
"Well, it looks like you've made his day, Sir." JUNO observed dryly.
"Rightly so. The kid's damn good at his game, even without proper training. I can't believe it's the same poor sod I tore a strip off barely a month ago. He's come along a fair ways since then."
A moment later, Héloise strolled onto the Bridge. Her bemused smile suggested that she may have narrowly avoided a collision with our newest crew member.
Apparently, the colonists have requested a proper old-fashioned 'film night' tonight.
My response: No problem at all. Fifty kilos of flavoured popcorn (sweet or savoury), choc-top ice cream cones and hotdogs, coming right up!
Wrong place to ask that question. The chances of it getting into the actual game are numbers too small for me to write. The chances of it getting into Borealis Rising are significantly higher, but still small.
Long story short, no, it will not get implemented.
Such a shame, because that model is TOTALLY, UTTERLY SHINY.
I was really hoping for some exciting action in this chapter.
Oh well.
I'll take a large popcorn and a hot dog.
I'm sorry that you're so bitterly disappointed. On the bright side, a wee dash of artificial adrenaline is better than none at all.
Not every page has to be filled with thrilling heroics. It's completely unrealistic, even in a science fiction setting. To sustain any genuine long-term interest in the plot, it's advisable to break up the action a little, even if it means that The Protagonist eats something dubious and has to spend the next few pages doubled over on the can.
A touch of the mundane every few pages means that the author isn't desperately searching for something even larger, louder and nastier for the characters to fight. I don't know how your tastes run, but I feel that relentless pew-pew-pew action on every bloody page gets old real fast. For the record, I have no plans to take the story down that path.
Stuff will happen. Words will be said, and shots may be fired. It's how most stories work.
Remember, Selkirk's posse has only recently emerged from a meat-grinder with the Kharaa.
SkopeWouldn't you like to know ;)Join Date: 2016-06-07Member: 218212Members
Very true. Very true.
Just ignore my impatient posting.
My impatience may be a side-effect of just finishing Aurora Falls once again, and I'm hungry for more Rock Puncher attacks. Aurora Falls has that effect on me. Sorry if my whining detracted from your story. Please continue.
There are certain occasions... Mercifully rare, I might add, where I fervently hope the ground would open up and swallow me without a trace. This was one of them.
Our film night got off to a cracking start. Kicked off with some animated stuff to appease the kids. Road Runner, Minions, Pokémon, The Monkey King and so forth. Relatively light and fluffy all round. Rather surprisingly, most of the adults also seemed to enjoy it. However, when it was time to screen tonight's double feature, I noted with considerable alarm that none of the youngsters had been bundled off to bed. Naturally, I strongly advised the audience that Aliens might not be suitable for very young children, although their strident howls of protest seemed to indicate otherwise.
The People have spoken. What more can I do?
It's probably worth mentioning that the colonists actually voted to watch Aliens in the first place. Rather ironic, given the nature of recent events. Their second choice of film was thus far undecided, as reflected in PDA votes trickling in as the evening progressed. Still, with a selection of over 50,000 films and serials to choose from, the colonists were definitely spoiled for choice. During Intermission, a snap decision spread like wildfire among the colonists. Resoundingly unanimous.
Our last mission in the Lava Castle.
"Captain, I certainly understand your reluctance," JUNO said. "However, the colonists are quite adamant in their request. Nothing in our mission recordings constitutes a further cause for concern, as the Kharaa threat has been fully neutralised. With all respect Sir, I feel that full disclosure of that encounter is in everyone's best interests. Of course, your decision to veto is final."
"That's barely one step short of blackmail, lass." I growled. "Even though I'm not entirely comfortable with this idea, I have no choice but to agree." I breathed a sigh of resignation. "Okay, we might as well make a decent show of it. Is anyone willing to beat our raw footage into shape?"
IANTO stepped forward confidently. "Sir, I am able to convert our video feeds into a suitable documentary format, broadly based on the atmosphere and audience reactions evoked by the previous film. With appropriate editing and pacing, I am certain that it will entertain the colonists in a similar fashion. However, I do require some guidance regarding the intensity of violence you wish me to depict. How shall I proceed, Sir?"
I mulled over his question briefly, then replied. "Use your best judgement, lad. I take it you saw their reactions during the scariest parts of the film? Well, in this case... Dial it up a wee bit more. Give them the full cinema verite treatment. Oh, one more thing. No stirring soundtrack. Got that?"
IANTO grinned. "Understood, Sir. I estimate that it should be ready for screening in ten minutes."
It's probably best for me to sit this one out. Events are still far too fresh in my memory to simply kick back with a jumbo-size tub of popcorn and snuggle up to Héloise. The worst part of it is, I'll never be able to forget what happened in the Lava Castle. To the colonists, it's just another one of Captain Selkirk's Ripping Yarns.
Not here, though. It's another painful reminder that I used to be human.
Unsurprisingly, I found myself wandering aimlessly through the corridors of The Broch. It's hard to pin down what emotions I'm supposed to be feeling at the moment. There's a definite streak of self-consciousness somewhere in there; that much is apparent. However, there's also a sense that I'm angry about something, but it's all so vague and unfocused that I can't attribute it to anything that's happened recently. In fact, everything seems to be tickety-boo around here. The colonists haven't caused any major problems, the crew is handling all the minor dramas splendidly, and things couldn't be better between me and Héloise. To be honest, I haven't a gorram clue why I'm feeling like I'm on the verge of an emotional melt-down.
Sooner or later, I'll have to let JUNO know. Talking it out with Héloise might offer some measure of comfort, although I'm inclined to suspect that there could be a problem with my core program. I've always been afraid of losing that inner spark that defines me as a human, so this is kind of a big deal for me. In the meantime, I'll just have to soldier on and hope for the best.
On the pretext of doing something useful, I dived into the base monitoring systems to see how our old stone frigate is doing. All systems are nominal. Power and life support are ticking along like Swiss clockwork. Defence grid is set at Condition Green.
Nope. Absolutely nothing to see here.
Hmm. Security. Almost everyone is still where I left them. A few colonists pottering about the berthing spaces, most likely putting their bairns down for the night. If they stayed long enough to catch our first encounter with the Kharaa, good luck getting those poor little mites to sleep...
Hang on. Two rogue motion traces. Heading for the sub bays, by the look of them. PDAs are assigned to a pair of almost-teens named Roche Dupré and Miiko Vaina. I'm guessing they've been inspired by our thrilling on-screen exploits, and feel like a taste of adventure first-hand.
Sorry, kids. Not on my watch.
It was a simple matter to activate a hologram of myself leaning casually against the sub bay's inner airlock door. As they rounded the corner, it was a rare treat to see their expressions go from shifty to shocked without benefit of a clutch. Cue lame excuses in 3...2...1...
"Good evening, gentlemen. You appear to be lost... May I be of assistance?" I said pleasantly.
"W-we were looking for the... um, toilets?" Miiko stammered.
I shook my head reprovingly. "They're not here, mates. You're in a restricted area, and you were told the rules plainly enough. Now, go back the way you came. This is your first and only warning."
Roche stepped forward a pace and squared his jaw belligerently. Uh-oh. Here comes the smart lip.
"So what? We were just looking at stuff, you know. No harm in that, is there?" Roche smirked. "Besides, you're only a hologram of the Captain anyway. It's not like you can stop us."
I grinned back at the kids, hitching my thumb at the airlock door behind me. As the inner door slid open, Gawain's floodlights flared like a welding arc, instantly dazzling the young tearaways.
"Actually, I can." Gawain leaned forward, menace incarnate. "This is the part where ye run away."
Comments
when will it be in the game???
Wrong place to ask that question. The chances of it getting into the actual game are numbers too small for me to write. The chances of it getting into Borealis Rising are significantly higher, but still small.
Long story short, no, it will not get implemented.
Now, back to the story.
Absolutely correct. I do have a definite plan for the rest of this story.
Also, bear in mind that the Rolls-Royce has done some serious off-road work recently. We're simply running the old girl through the car wash.
As Exodus neared the lava massif that concealed The Broch, holographic navigation beacons activated, marking the entrance to the moon pool access tunnel. An obvious sign that our base defence system has interrogated the submersible's IFF transponder and received an appropriate response. Docking request granted, minus a somewhat pointed flash-bang-boom refusal. This is generally reserved for any unwelcome guests, either human or xeno. As you might expect after the De Ruyter affair, I became considerably more particular about letting random bodies stroll into any of my bases unannounced.
However, this wasn't the case with these colonists. With Polyakov and his cronies dead and gone, I have no valid reason to anticipate any further shenanigans from the Belters. Naturally, I've taken adequate measures to ensure that certain parts of The Broch are tightly secured, although it's more from a civilian safety perspective than anything. There are quite a few wee bairns among this lot, and we don't want them fiddling with things well beyond their pay grade. Code-locked doors and a plethora of nasty warning signs should be quite sufficient. Fusion reactors are definitely not toys.
Exodus surfaced in the moon pool, wallowing gently for a moment or two. I waited until the worst of its motion had subsided, then activated the graviton lifters. The submersible rose smoothly out of the water, rotated 180 degrees and slowly reversed toward its docking collar. Rather than subject our colonists to the moon pool's high atmospheric pressure, followed by a lengthy decompression sequence, this transfer would take place with a minimum of fuss. Considering how some folks reacted to the decontamination procedure, stress levels are running pretty high at the moment.
Yes, I admit that I've become a proper old mother hen lately, but considering what lies ahead, I have no bloody choice. Once Borealis reaches deep space, we're facing a 50-year trip back to Terra. Believe me, you don't want to start something like that unless everyone aboard is in full possession of their marbles. Morale is everything at this point. Putting everyone into cryo-stasis for the full duration of the trip isn't a viable option either, since significant synaptic degradation occurs after five years or so in deep freeze. Science hasn't licked that problem yet, unfortunately. To play it safe, the colonists will be cycled through a four years-in, one year-out cryo schedule to allow their bodies sufficient time to repair any physiological damage that may have occurred during cryosleep.
Naturally, the crew and I will be on watch for the full duration of the voyage. You lucky buggers.
With IANTO and DIGBY still working on Kaori-san no-shima, it fell to JUNO and me to get the colonists all sorted out. Fortunately, we were using a simple RFID tag system linked to their PDAs. Each colonist is issued with a tag that leads them to their assigned berth, and family groups can be accommodated with a quick application of the Builder tool, if necessary. The whole process took us slightly less than fifteen minutes to complete. All up, that sudden burst of activity wasn't particularly harrowing, but that didn't stop me from heaving a deep sigh of relief when it was finally over. There's just enough time to grab a quick brew, then it's time to welcome our guests aboard.
"All is forgiven, then?" I asked cautiously.
She laughed delightedly.
"Oui. I had no idea it would be so cold going through that shower! What the hell did you expect me to say, Chérie?"
"Under those circumstances... Well, pretty much anything, I suppose." I admitted. "I take it your comment about 'freezing it and snapping it off' was an entirely spur of the moment thing?"
"You might say that. Anyway, now that you've dragged us down to your dark and foreboding lair... What's the plan, my Captain?" Héloise grinned, helping herself to a round of my toast and jam.
I shrugged.
"There's nothing actually planned for them at this stage. Consider this a three-day sleepover or holiday, although your people might organise some festivities if they feel like it. We've got an open house policy here, so feel free to do whatever you want. Within reason, of course. Obviously, our Cyclops and Seamoth fleets are completely off-limits, unless one of the crew is in command. That means no unsupervised joyrides, I'm afraid. That reminds me... Looks like breakfast is nearly over. I'd best let everyone know our house rules before they start wandering off."
I stood up and straightened my jumpsuit as befits a proper Captain, then amped up my voice-box.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. First off, welcome to The Broch. I sincerely apologise for any inconvenience or discomfort you may have experienced during this temporary relocation. The decontamination of Kaori-san no-shima is proceeding as scheduled, and you will be able to return in three day's time. In the meantime, you are most welcome to avail yourself of our facilities. However, please be aware that certain areas have been secured against all unauthorised access. These areas contain critical equipment such as power generation, life support, vehicle bays and base defence systems. Crew quarters are also off-limits, and I ask that you respect our privacy. Should you require assistance with any matter, please use one of the base information terminals or directly contact a crew member. In an emergency situation, use any one of the terminals to sound an alert, and the crew shall respond immediately. As a general reminder, our autogalleys may be used at any time, and a wide range of entertainment media is available for your enjoyment. Please make yourselves at home. Spasiba."
A wee bit long-winded, I'll admit. However, I could only hear appreciative murmurs among the colonists, and not one whisper of dissent. Outstanding.
Presently, the general hubbub of clattering food trays and departing diners began tapering off. I gulped down the last mouthful of tea in my mug, gave Héloise a heartfelt hug, then jogged off to the bridge.
Captain time. The Big Chair awaits.
Went to a deep, dark place in an evil area- Check
Tell people there are dangerous and off-limits areas- Check
Lots of people in an enclosed space- Check
Multiple days of free time- Check
I'd say this is the perfect recipe for death and disaster.
Or maybe I've been reading too much Flagship Eclipse.
Boy, I sure am excited for Alien Covenant.
I've been known to talk in my sleep, checking off all the dead people like a serial killer.
EDIT: And I never got the phrase off-limits... surely if there are places you can't go they're limits. My room's off-limits; there's nothing limiting me from my room. From now on I'm going to be saying on-limits. I don't care if people don't understand, I'll feel better about myself. Me ranting about the phrase off-limits in this edit has gone on longer than the actual post. I think this is a good time to stop.
But that would refer to a person who is outside the off-limit area. Calling a place off-limits is different, I think.
"Very good, Mister Savini. Set base to Condition Yellow."
"Condition Yellow, aye Sir. Repulsion turrets are online. Torpedo loads are set to Concussion."
I nodded. "You are cleared to launch upon confirmation of target motion analysis. Weapons free."
"Target motion analysis is complete, Sir. Acoustic signature confirmed as Reaper Leviathan, designation: 'Binky'. Firing solution is locked in and tracking on launchers Charlie and Delta."
"Copy that. Set Condition Amber. Proceed, Mister Savini"
"Condition Amber, aye. Target aspect has changed. Speed, twenty-five knots. Approach vector is now zero niner-five, range nineteen hundred and closing."
"I'd say he's coming in for a closer look, wouldn't you?" I said calmly. "What's the current status on that repair crew working over Blood Kelp Canyon way?"
"All divers retrieved and onboard within seventy-five seconds of recall, Sir. Esperanza is already underway. Esperanza commander is re-routing to West docking port, as per emergency protocol. ETA to The Broch, twelve minutes."
"Good. That should keep them out of the line of fire. Our friend Binky is coming in hot and strong."
"One thousand metres. Firing solution is good. Launchers are locked on target. Eight hundred metres... Firing. First salvo away, running straight and hot. Time to impact, thirty seconds."
Suddenly, the seabed motion sensor display lit up. A hazy mass of life forms had materialized only six hundred metres out from The Broch, and they were definitely on the move toward us.
"Repulsion turrets E-5, E-6, E-7 firing on automatic proximity detection. Negative contact with target on both torpedoes. I say again, negative contact with target. Your orders, Sir?"
"Change torpedo loadout to Toxin Alpha. Two salvos, all turrets. Rapid fire. Detonation range 500."
"Two salvos, Toxin Alpha aye, Sir. Turrets are loaded and ready. Firing."
Torpedoes erupted from all defence turrets, a swarm of silver hornets roared through the water. They barely had time to clear The Broch's outer defence perimeter before detonating simultaneously, throwing up a dense corrosive cloud before the approaching Leviathan and its as-yet unknown allies. The vanguard of the larger force sheered away in frenzied panic, repelled by its first contact with drifting tendrils of concentrated Gasopod toxin billowing out from the detonation zone.
They're too gorram close. If that toxin cloud doesn't hold them back, we're in serious trouble.
This is beginning to be a bit of a de-rail, so if you feel the need, @Foxy go ahead and move it:
The statement would be: "This area is off- (that is, out of) limits (the acceptable area)". You're operating from the position of the "limits" (acceptable area), and saying that the no-go zone is off / outside of it. In other words, do not go past where you are now, it is forbidden to trespass here.
define: off-limits
off limits
phrase of limit
"they declared the site off limits"
synonyms: out of bounds, forbidden, banned, restricted, unacceptable, taboo
"access to their mother's workshop was strictly off limits"
"it was apparent that the whole topic was off limits"
Okay, I get it now
Just thought it was one of those times two words are smashed together even though they don't mean anything together. I can't think of any examples right now, but I know they exist, and I know that under any other circumstances those two words wouldn't make sense together.
Thank you for proving to me that off-limits was not an example of this. It was noice.
Please try to keep any wildly tangental posts as brief as possible. Non-existent would be even better.
Thanks.
Sorry @Bugzapper
@Foxy If you would, can you please split out the OT posts? Thanks. (:
"Negative, Sir. They are using some kind of bio-electric distortion field to mask their approach." Savini said. "Commencing multi-spectrum EM scanning. Acoustic signature and motion analysis is consistent with Crabsquid swarming behaviour, 95.8 per cent confidence. Be advised that there are several anomalous sonar returns inside the swarm itself. Unable to identify, thus far."
"Make ready another two salvos. Set detonation range to 400 metres. Keep a close eye on that toxin concentration. If it falls below 1000 parts per million, they'll rush in and overwhelm the outer defence ring."
"Two salvos, Toxin Alpha loaded. Ready to fire, Sir." Savini replied. "Repulsion turrets E-1 and E-2 are engaging the Leviathan on proximity detection... He's coming in!"
"Sneaky bastard." I growled. "He's swung around to the very end of the defence arc. He knows that our repulsion cannons can't do much damage to him, so he's going to chance it. He could do some serious mischief when he gets among those torpedo turrets..."
Judging by his sudden change of expression, Enzo has realised what is happening.
Trojan horse.
"Sir! The Leviathan is a decoy! - Those Crabsquids and whatever it is they're hiding are the main targets... Request permission to activate the TRIDENT defence array."
"Well spotted, Mister Savini. Incidentally, I was wondering when you'd ask about that." I grinned. "Authorisation: Selkirk, A. F. Authentication sequence: Echo, Sierra, Tango, Five, Two, Sigma. Weapon is enabled. You now have full control."
"Amplitude is set at twenty per cent. Frequency, seven Hertz. Range-gate set, two hundred metres. Weapon stands ready in all respects. Awaiting your firing order, Sir."
I nodded approvingly, then tapped out a command to power down the TRIDENT system and terminate the simulation. There's no truly safe 'practice shot' setting for a weapon system that can pulverise solid basalt. Feeling particularly splendid at this point, I tilted the command chair way back into a more pleasing and totally non-regulation seating angle.
"So, JUNO... How did we do?"
"Exceedingly well, Captain. Mister Savini appears to have a natural aptitude for tactical analysis and weapons control. His performance during the simulation was highly commendable, as was his adherence to established procedures and a formal command structure. I believe that we may have found our Weapons Officer, Sir."
"I agree. Now DIGBY will have someone to boss around." I laughed. "Seriously though, I conjure you'd make a cracking Gunner, Enzo. Borealis will need a fair-sized crew, and if you're game to take the shilling, you'll be the first to make your mark. What do you say, Mister Savini?"
Enzo gaped in disbelief. "Wha? - I thought we were... under attack?"
"I have absolutely no idea what an Excalibur Test is, Captain." Enzo admitted.
"It was JUNO's idea. You were hanging around in the corridor outside the Bridge looking all kinds of wistful, and she just up and reeled you in. Reckon you made it pretty obvious you wanted to do something other than sit on your bum all night drinking Creepvine beer... Am I right?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm used to running sensor ops and communications for the colony. Now that I have a much better idea of what I'm supposed to be doing at those consoles, I actually enjoy my job. Just wanted to make myself useful here, if that's okay with you."
I stroked my chin thoughtfully, sizing the chap up. A steady hand and a clear head under pressure, eminently capable of looking beyond what shows up on his scopes. Shows plenty of initiative, yet he manages it without coming off as a fawning butt-creeper. Definitely my first choice as ship's Gunner.
"Enzo, think of that combat simulation as an aptitude test. One you passed with flying colours, I might add. In a few week's time, we'll begin recruiting and training your fellow colonists in earnest. There's a million and one jobs that keep a starship flying, and we're going to need every willing hand that can be mustered from your group. There's also the social angle to consider. Sure, me and the crew could automate the hell out of Borealis, leaving you and the others to twiddle your thumbs for the next 50 or so years. Given the reality of our situation, I'm pretty certain that most folks would prefer to be doing something meaningful during their time out of cryo-sleep. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Absolutely, Captain. In fact, I'd like to start my training as soon as possible, if that's okay?"
"First-rate, Ensign Savini! Please report to Commander DIGBY, 0900 tomorrow. He'll bring you up to speed on the precise nature of your role, as well as the new weapon systems you'll be controlling. One more thing. You might want to grab as much free time as you're able. The next couple of months are going to be an absolute beast. Not just for you, either. There's no royal road to mastery of any specialist's field, and Enzo old mate... You've picked a real beauty, at least as far as sheer hard work is concerned. Welcome to the ship's company. Okay, that's all for now, Enzo. You're officially dismissed. Hit the mess deck and kick back with a few beers. You've earned it."
Savini eagerly returned my salute, turned and darted off. "Thank you, Captain. See you tomorrow!"
"Well, it looks like you've made his day, Sir." JUNO observed dryly.
"Rightly so. The kid's damn good at his game, even without proper training. I can't believe it's the same poor sod I tore a strip off barely a month ago. He's come along a fair ways since then."
A moment later, Héloise strolled onto the Bridge. Her bemused smile suggested that she may have narrowly avoided a collision with our newest crew member.
Apparently, the colonists have requested a proper old-fashioned 'film night' tonight.
My response: No problem at all. Fifty kilos of flavoured popcorn (sweet or savoury), choc-top ice cream cones and hotdogs, coming right up!
Such a shame, because that model is TOTALLY, UTTERLY SHINY.
I was really hoping for some exciting action in this chapter.
Oh well.
I'll take a large popcorn and a hot dog.
I'm sorry that you're so bitterly disappointed. On the bright side, a wee dash of artificial adrenaline is better than none at all.
Not every page has to be filled with thrilling heroics. It's completely unrealistic, even in a science fiction setting. To sustain any genuine long-term interest in the plot, it's advisable to break up the action a little, even if it means that The Protagonist eats something dubious and has to spend the next few pages doubled over on the can.
A touch of the mundane every few pages means that the author isn't desperately searching for something even larger, louder and nastier for the characters to fight. I don't know how your tastes run, but I feel that relentless pew-pew-pew action on every bloody page gets old real fast. For the record, I have no plans to take the story down that path.
Stuff will happen. Words will be said, and shots may be fired. It's how most stories work.
Remember, Selkirk's posse has only recently emerged from a meat-grinder with the Kharaa.
Bear with me on this.
Just ignore my impatient posting.
Our film night got off to a cracking start. Kicked off with some animated stuff to appease the kids. Road Runner, Minions, Pokémon, The Monkey King and so forth. Relatively light and fluffy all round. Rather surprisingly, most of the adults also seemed to enjoy it. However, when it was time to screen tonight's double feature, I noted with considerable alarm that none of the youngsters had been bundled off to bed. Naturally, I strongly advised the audience that Aliens might not be suitable for very young children, although their strident howls of protest seemed to indicate otherwise.
The People have spoken. What more can I do?
It's probably worth mentioning that the colonists actually voted to watch Aliens in the first place. Rather ironic, given the nature of recent events. Their second choice of film was thus far undecided, as reflected in PDA votes trickling in as the evening progressed. Still, with a selection of over 50,000 films and serials to choose from, the colonists were definitely spoiled for choice. During Intermission, a snap decision spread like wildfire among the colonists. Resoundingly unanimous.
Our last mission in the Lava Castle.
"Captain, I certainly understand your reluctance," JUNO said. "However, the colonists are quite adamant in their request. Nothing in our mission recordings constitutes a further cause for concern, as the Kharaa threat has been fully neutralised. With all respect Sir, I feel that full disclosure of that encounter is in everyone's best interests. Of course, your decision to veto is final."
"That's barely one step short of blackmail, lass." I growled. "Even though I'm not entirely comfortable with this idea, I have no choice but to agree." I breathed a sigh of resignation. "Okay, we might as well make a decent show of it. Is anyone willing to beat our raw footage into shape?"
IANTO stepped forward confidently. "Sir, I am able to convert our video feeds into a suitable documentary format, broadly based on the atmosphere and audience reactions evoked by the previous film. With appropriate editing and pacing, I am certain that it will entertain the colonists in a similar fashion. However, I do require some guidance regarding the intensity of violence you wish me to depict. How shall I proceed, Sir?"
I mulled over his question briefly, then replied. "Use your best judgement, lad. I take it you saw their reactions during the scariest parts of the film? Well, in this case... Dial it up a wee bit more. Give them the full cinema verite treatment. Oh, one more thing. No stirring soundtrack. Got that?"
IANTO grinned. "Understood, Sir. I estimate that it should be ready for screening in ten minutes."
It's probably best for me to sit this one out. Events are still far too fresh in my memory to simply kick back with a jumbo-size tub of popcorn and snuggle up to Héloise. The worst part of it is, I'll never be able to forget what happened in the Lava Castle. To the colonists, it's just another one of Captain Selkirk's Ripping Yarns.
Not here, though. It's another painful reminder that I used to be human.
Problem?
Sooner or later, I'll have to let JUNO know. Talking it out with Héloise might offer some measure of comfort, although I'm inclined to suspect that there could be a problem with my core program. I've always been afraid of losing that inner spark that defines me as a human, so this is kind of a big deal for me. In the meantime, I'll just have to soldier on and hope for the best.
On the pretext of doing something useful, I dived into the base monitoring systems to see how our old stone frigate is doing. All systems are nominal. Power and life support are ticking along like Swiss clockwork. Defence grid is set at Condition Green.
Nope. Absolutely nothing to see here.
Hmm. Security. Almost everyone is still where I left them. A few colonists pottering about the berthing spaces, most likely putting their bairns down for the night. If they stayed long enough to catch our first encounter with the Kharaa, good luck getting those poor little mites to sleep...
Hang on. Two rogue motion traces. Heading for the sub bays, by the look of them. PDAs are assigned to a pair of almost-teens named Roche Dupré and Miiko Vaina. I'm guessing they've been inspired by our thrilling on-screen exploits, and feel like a taste of adventure first-hand.
Sorry, kids. Not on my watch.
It was a simple matter to activate a hologram of myself leaning casually against the sub bay's inner airlock door. As they rounded the corner, it was a rare treat to see their expressions go from shifty to shocked without benefit of a clutch. Cue lame excuses in 3...2...1...
"Good evening, gentlemen. You appear to be lost... May I be of assistance?" I said pleasantly.
"W-we were looking for the... um, toilets?" Miiko stammered.
I shook my head reprovingly. "They're not here, mates. You're in a restricted area, and you were told the rules plainly enough. Now, go back the way you came. This is your first and only warning."
Roche stepped forward a pace and squared his jaw belligerently. Uh-oh. Here comes the smart lip.
"So what? We were just looking at stuff, you know. No harm in that, is there?" Roche smirked. "Besides, you're only a hologram of the Captain anyway. It's not like you can stop us."
I grinned back at the kids, hitching my thumb at the airlock door behind me. As the inner door slid open, Gawain's floodlights flared like a welding arc, instantly dazzling the young tearaways.
"Actually, I can." Gawain leaned forward, menace incarnate. "This is the part where ye run away."