'City of Fresno'

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Probably, but perhaps not replaceable for multiple years to come, and may be required more urgently by others...

This consideration applies to Jake, too. Something of which he is very much aware...
quote:
I cued both my Med-augments. One spun my pulse etc up towards 'Fight or Flight'. The other began pumping pheromone-specific anti-toxins into my blood-stream. I knew the metabolic price I'd pay for my urgent double-header. Still, push come to shove, this was gonna hurt 'Mater' Harris and her crew a lot worse than it hurt me.
/

[jemhouston]

Jake is smart enough to know that limited resources are on hand and doing his best to use them wisely. He's also trying to more resources.

'Mater' Harris doesn't realize that and thinks the old rules apply.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #81

Before reaction set in, I was able to complete the 'familiarisation' session, guide those trundling my re-crated 'Big Mac' back to the corridor outside our suite. After thanking my delighted volunteers, I dragged in the crates, closed the door. Then I took two fast steps, up-chucked in the nearer hand-bowl. Again. Rinse and spit. Rinse and spit. Gargle and spit. By slow, wary stages, drink a half-litre of water.

Having bought time, I down-loaded my recording, attached a copy of file to a terse text-mail I hastily composed, sent them to Doctor Meredith, marked 'Medical Confidential: URGENT'.

I could not spare medical augment resources to ease this adrenalin 'crash', I'd have to 'tough it out'. So, slump on crate, put head in trembling hands. Sob.

Which is how Anne-Marie found me, about half an hour later.

"I heard," she said. "Your 'Harris' take-down is all over 'Fresno' ! Now, Jake, you need some serious 'TLC': Strip, lay on the lower bunk. Face down.."

Slowly, carefully, my beloved partner drove strong fingers into my skinny shoulders, nape, spine, ribs, pelvis and thighs. Nerve centre by nerve centre, muscle group by muscle group, she reduced my trembling body to limp jelly.

Then she rolled me onto my back, touched me *here* and *there*. She hard-docked, clenched her strong abdominal muscles. Coherent thought fled...

My adrenalin crash thus purged, Anne-Marie half-carried me into our en-suite cubicle. The shower revived me enough to tenderly wash-cloth her familiar curves. Dried, dressed, we spooned together on the bunk.

"Did you record Harris' take-down ?" She thought to ask. "As evidence ?"

"Oh, yes. Given CCTV coverage was, um, uncertain, and Harris' followers might only confirm her version of events. Would you like to hear the file ?"

"You have to ask ?? Play it, Jake !" She laughed then, after my, 'Now, go away: I have a essential training session to run...', bid, "Again ! And again !!

"Oh, Jake ! 'Aboard which ship, you are currently a reluctant passenger' ! And, yes, 'Have you considered 'Food-Taster' ?' " She segued into giggles. "Then you hack her 'stink-pot' !"

"But I didn't," I gently corrected. "That would be un-ethical: I just secured its 'Admin' access. Info's gone to Fresno's Doctor Meredith. His problem, now..."

"You're too kind." Anne-Marie shook her head like a barn-cat with a rat, reminding me of Kipling's timeless caution about, 'Deadlier Than The Male'. "Much too kind..."

"While I have such options," I allowed. "Funny thing: Her 'User' menu took a long, vocal password--"

"One of those standard phrases she uses to open prayer meetings and sermons ?"

"Probably..." I sought wary words. "But it also takes an eight-digit code."

"That's logical," Anne-Marie agreed. "In case of vocal incapacity. So, what's the significance ?"

"Well, just struck me that the Admin sys-log showed that code often gets used. Which is a bit odd, as neither 'Mater' Harris nor her Acolytes have anything to do with comms or tech beyond the bare minimum."

"Hmm," Anne-Marie muttered. "Yes, before their cabins and meal-times switched, I noticed Harris' utter aversion to the Diner's menu system. Her Deputy ordered, collected..."

"I put it down to 'Mater' Harris craving personal service," I worked through the logic. "But the Deputy has a generic, belt-slung data-pad. Must use it for scheduling and other administration."

"Hmm ?" Anne-Marie had a fair map of my wits' oft-wry workings. "You think there's more ? The Deputy's been playing Harris and her stink-pot like ruddy bag-pipes ??"

"I hope not. But..."

"Fook." Anne-Marie put more venom into that one word than a dojo strike. "Jake, I can't even begin to figure the implications. The Gillespies might, but..

"Jake, you gotta warn Doc. Meredith ! And Lt. Richards ! The Deputy --I don't know her name, either !-- could be some sick mix of 'Dark Triad' and full-on 'Psycho' !"

[jemhouston]

Another unneeded problem just popped up.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #82

Our 'evening' meal was a thoughtful affair. I needed the fuel. Anne-Marie was trying to figure the consequences of 'Mater' Harris' Deputy possibly being her puppet-master. Well, we'd warned Doc. Meredith and Lt. Richards, it was their problem now. Awed looks and whispers from other Diners proved I'd made the news again. We took an early night, close-cuddled pleasantly...

About 'midnight' our time, my Nav' augment half-woke me with report that Fresno was no longer braking. We'd arrived at the iceteroid ? I smiled, rolled over, re-spooned...

Breakfast was, of course, un-inspiring. The gossip, though, was all about 'Mater' Harris. After my clinical 'take-down' yesterday, 'something' had happened over-night in her crowded suite. Just after Fresno's gentle braking had ceased, there'd been a loud commotion. Duty Steward, two urgently called assistants, then Doc. Meredith and a Paramedic had attended. A 'slight' figure had left by gurney, oxygen mask attached. Much speculation ensued...

Almost un-watched, one of the Diner's display screens showed the vigorous out-gassing as the first of two 'Cwm Fahr' ice-slices was briskly cooked. Seems the gleaners had shaved my default template's wary margins, cut this juicy pair a bit longer, a bit wider. The sub-text claimed each massed about thirty-seven kilo-tonnes so, combined, would likely yield twenty-five kilo-tonnes of water.

Exceedingly pleased, Anne-Marie went off to her 'Ponics. I mustered some of this morning's 'Hard Suit' students as 'Big Mac' porters for what proved an un-interrupted familiarisation session. There'd be a second class after lunch, so the makings could wait in the room. Steward Ms. Lindstrom was happy. She'd compounded 'Mater' Harris' woes by registering a formal complaint for incitement of yesterday's 'Disgraceful Behaviour'. Citing 'Medical Confidentiality', though, she politely declined to detail over-night developments.

According to my terse log, I then alternated one and two training sessions each day. The 'twos' were 'Hard Suit' basics, for familiarisation and future 'Support Staff'. The 'ones' got serious: Although I had to 'bump' several down to the 'second echelon', at least for now, the rest of the lead team were rapidly progressing towards 'vac-rated'.

Meanwhile, the iceteroid gleaners were keeping both large and small processing plants at full capacity. As soon as any pair of 'catch tanks' became available, a Rock Tug would scoot off, return later that day with another pair of chunks. The 'slicers' were progressively honing their skills, further crowding my default template's ample margins: Each chunk was now nearing forty kilo-tonne so, with deeper gleans even 'juicier', a pair delivered between twenty-five and thirty kilo-tonnes of water.

This wasn't going to the 'Ponics, as Anne-Marie now had more than enough. In fact, she'd refilled most of the metre-cube 'bedding' IBCs with water to provide a local reserve. No, Fresno was pumping much of our bounty to storage tanks. This created its own problems. Water is 'strange': It is one of the few fluids that, at 'human-tolerant' temperatures and pressures, is denser as liquid than solid. Which is why drink-cubes and ice-bergs float. Yes, under cryogenic and/or mega-pressure conditions, water played by other, very different rules, forming a bizarre zoo of variously crystalline and amorphous forms. But, just brim-filling a tank and letting that freeze was so not a good idea. The 'benign' liquid would freeze and expand unevenly, strain, even burst the tank...

My polite enquiry prompted chuckles. Seems there was an easy fix: Never mind wasteful air-bags, spacers or fusillade from monstrous ice-cuboid machine, the trick was to spray super-cooled water into a chilled tank. Meeting cold surface, it expanded to ice, stuck. In effect, forming a huge, inside-out hail-stone...

[jemhouston]

I like that fix, simple and elegant.