'City of Fresno'
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- Posts: 1467
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
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.
/
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
- Posts: 4570
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
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.
'Mater' Harris doesn't realize that and thinks the old rules apply.
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- Posts: 1467
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #81
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' !"
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
- Posts: 4570
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
Another unneeded problem just popped up.
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- Posts: 1467
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #82
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...
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
- Posts: 4570
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
I like that fix, simple and elegant.
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- Posts: 1467
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #83
City of Fresno #83
My sessions of 'Hard Suit' training and support, plus refresher sessions on 'Soft' and 'Skin-suit' wear, reached the stage where we could 'Get Real'. Re-arranging some of the off-axis air-lock sections of a mostly-stripped evac pod gave us two micro-g vacuum 'Play Rooms'. They were big enough to move within, while Fresno's slow 'Barbeque Roll' gave them a whiff of 'Up & Down' comparable to surface conditions on our iceteroid. Also, they had little-enough volume for their multiple dump-valves to re-pressurise within moments: Faster, in fact, than all but the most catastrophic suit failure. Fast enough for even such to be survivable...
Rather than mess about with actual iceteroid material, due temperature, out-gassing and dust, each 'Play-Room' had three planters of 'Ponic bedding granules. Though not ideal, I reckoned the stuff 'near enough' to iceteroid surface texture and resistance to learn placement of safety flags and lines. I taught that every job could be different, that each hole might have very different characteristics. 'Due Care' was essential. Plus, yes, we'd watched, analysed all my suit-cam and tug footage of my work: We agreed even fifty metres separation could provide a significantly different 'Terroir', ranging from 'Amusing' unto 'Terror'...
Fresno's small shuttle-craft were a poor fit for iceteroid surface conditions. The work-pods, though very powerful, were too small to provide 'surface support' for several suited figures and their handlers. Another feature of those multi-ported evac pods now came into play. Rather than land one on the iceteroid, it had been noted that their fairly short axial locks were yet a sufficiently larger diameter and length than each 'off-axis' lock module. Such that, with a part-stripped evac module temporarily dismounted from its axial mounting between a pair of 'legs', a succession of 'off-axis' lock modules could be passed through. Linked end-on, these became a pair of 'mini-habs' which we then attached to work-pods, creating improvised crew-buses: Isn't modularity wonderful ??
For most of my students, it was their first time 'outside' beyond safety-suit training on stations, moons or 'minor planets'. Also, we were out in the 'Deep and Dark', more than a light-year from the nearest star. Yes, Fresno was 'overhead', lit like a star cluster. Still, that only made our spatial isolation so much more apparent. Remembering my rock-hopper training's initial awe, I gave the group ample time to move about, peer into the deep channels gouged by our rock-tug gleaning, accidentally bounce to the limit of their safety lines.
Then, very warily, we practiced using the 'Blaster' at low power, getting a feel for the oft-unpredictable results. Two 'zaps' found pockets of juicy volatile enrichment, their out-bursts harmless but educational. Rather than my 50-metre 'pylons' which broke into ground-car sized chunks, the students each cut several dozen-metre bergy-bits. And, as arranged, a rock-tug came along, scooped those into a collection tank. Beyond the always awesome sight of any 'looming' rock-tug, it meant my students had the satisfaction of seeing the process through. Though the quantity of iceteroid thus gleaned was minimal compared to Fresno's now-replenished stock, we'd resolved the risk of my loss as a 'Single Point of Failure'.
'Cwm Fahr', though well-handled, seemed less 'nimble' than with Ms. Betrys at the helm. I reckoned our surface outing was also being used as a 'Junior Tugger' training exercise. Certainly, initial hyper-wary manoeuvres rapidly became more fluid. Then, presumably after hand-overs, they thrice reverted to clunky before improving again. Yes, they surely had excellent simulations, but there's nothing quite like doing it for real...
With our 'Away Team' carefully de-dusted, the two 'crew-buses' ferried us back to Fresno. I would not say that Suit-wearers and Handlers were on 'Cloud Nine', but they were certainly thrilled. Yes, word would 'go around'. Suit-cam and other footage of 'spurts' and 'gleans' would soon be playing for all to marvel, applaud. Morale would gain a useful up-tick. And, yes, I'd be doing this again tomorrow.
Tonight, though, my beloved Anne-Marie was waiting for me with that certain twinkle in her eyes...
My sessions of 'Hard Suit' training and support, plus refresher sessions on 'Soft' and 'Skin-suit' wear, reached the stage where we could 'Get Real'. Re-arranging some of the off-axis air-lock sections of a mostly-stripped evac pod gave us two micro-g vacuum 'Play Rooms'. They were big enough to move within, while Fresno's slow 'Barbeque Roll' gave them a whiff of 'Up & Down' comparable to surface conditions on our iceteroid. Also, they had little-enough volume for their multiple dump-valves to re-pressurise within moments: Faster, in fact, than all but the most catastrophic suit failure. Fast enough for even such to be survivable...
Rather than mess about with actual iceteroid material, due temperature, out-gassing and dust, each 'Play-Room' had three planters of 'Ponic bedding granules. Though not ideal, I reckoned the stuff 'near enough' to iceteroid surface texture and resistance to learn placement of safety flags and lines. I taught that every job could be different, that each hole might have very different characteristics. 'Due Care' was essential. Plus, yes, we'd watched, analysed all my suit-cam and tug footage of my work: We agreed even fifty metres separation could provide a significantly different 'Terroir', ranging from 'Amusing' unto 'Terror'...
Fresno's small shuttle-craft were a poor fit for iceteroid surface conditions. The work-pods, though very powerful, were too small to provide 'surface support' for several suited figures and their handlers. Another feature of those multi-ported evac pods now came into play. Rather than land one on the iceteroid, it had been noted that their fairly short axial locks were yet a sufficiently larger diameter and length than each 'off-axis' lock module. Such that, with a part-stripped evac module temporarily dismounted from its axial mounting between a pair of 'legs', a succession of 'off-axis' lock modules could be passed through. Linked end-on, these became a pair of 'mini-habs' which we then attached to work-pods, creating improvised crew-buses: Isn't modularity wonderful ??
For most of my students, it was their first time 'outside' beyond safety-suit training on stations, moons or 'minor planets'. Also, we were out in the 'Deep and Dark', more than a light-year from the nearest star. Yes, Fresno was 'overhead', lit like a star cluster. Still, that only made our spatial isolation so much more apparent. Remembering my rock-hopper training's initial awe, I gave the group ample time to move about, peer into the deep channels gouged by our rock-tug gleaning, accidentally bounce to the limit of their safety lines.
Then, very warily, we practiced using the 'Blaster' at low power, getting a feel for the oft-unpredictable results. Two 'zaps' found pockets of juicy volatile enrichment, their out-bursts harmless but educational. Rather than my 50-metre 'pylons' which broke into ground-car sized chunks, the students each cut several dozen-metre bergy-bits. And, as arranged, a rock-tug came along, scooped those into a collection tank. Beyond the always awesome sight of any 'looming' rock-tug, it meant my students had the satisfaction of seeing the process through. Though the quantity of iceteroid thus gleaned was minimal compared to Fresno's now-replenished stock, we'd resolved the risk of my loss as a 'Single Point of Failure'.
'Cwm Fahr', though well-handled, seemed less 'nimble' than with Ms. Betrys at the helm. I reckoned our surface outing was also being used as a 'Junior Tugger' training exercise. Certainly, initial hyper-wary manoeuvres rapidly became more fluid. Then, presumably after hand-overs, they thrice reverted to clunky before improving again. Yes, they surely had excellent simulations, but there's nothing quite like doing it for real...
With our 'Away Team' carefully de-dusted, the two 'crew-buses' ferried us back to Fresno. I would not say that Suit-wearers and Handlers were on 'Cloud Nine', but they were certainly thrilled. Yes, word would 'go around'. Suit-cam and other footage of 'spurts' and 'gleans' would soon be playing for all to marvel, applaud. Morale would gain a useful up-tick. And, yes, I'd be doing this again tomorrow.
Tonight, though, my beloved Anne-Marie was waiting for me with that certain twinkle in her eyes...