'City of Fresno'

[jemhouston]

Nicely done

[kdahm]

My beloved partner, of course, laughed until she got the hiccups. I had to sorta bear-hug her. This turned to pacing her breathing via 'mouth to mouth', which soon segued into passion. After, between giggles, we retreated to our nearer en-suite, lovingly wash-clothed each other.

I needed several days to delegate the last of my training commitments, 'temporarily' decline undertaking more. Warily quizzed, I simply muttered, 'NDA'. This sufficed.

Now this is just wrong. It's the far flung Nik Rational Future. When asked, he should simply be able to say, "Doctor's orders." and have it be accepted like that.

After all, who wants to piss the sawbones off?

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #92

What to do ? Well, first, I ran our usual half-load of washing.

Then I washed the un-used, but now stale bedding off the second cabin's remaining bunks. Even aired for that first 'quarantine' week, Harris' synthetic pheromones had lingered on the original set. To the Stewards' dismay, a standard wash/dry cycle did not suffice. Nor did two. Glumly, they replaced those intractable 'stinkers'. Still, took three (3) further wash/dry cycles before reckoning 'clean enough'. And the bulky, similarly contaminated bed-pads ? Consulting the Engineers, the Stewards had bundled those into an air-lock, vacuum de-gassed them for several days, then a full week. A second week. A third...

With two tranches of washing run, hung, I went walk-about. Our 'local' Community room would keep my 'No Smells' provision against urgent need. It was currently booked by a 'club' of traditional gamers: Go, Chess, Chequers and Dominos.

I made polite small-talk, studied the various 'Positions'. I could play a little --One player was so missing an elegant 'Mate in Three', another a potential 'hop-scotch' chain-- but, like other 'Zero Sum' games, such did not appeal. Be it 'visible' or 'hidden hand', even or random 'assets', if I won, they lost: Where was the fun ? Why even bother ??

I made my excuses, moved on.

The other end of our berthing module held a busy Yoga class. To my surprise, it was being run, um, 'pretzellated' by Jill Rollings. A lanky brunette with nut-brown eyes, skin and short curls, she was a true TBM expert. But, last I'd heard, she'd intended to stay on Chaparral.

Those near-frantic shelter excavations could not afford any, any un-scheduled down-time from damage or excessive wear. Then, after our 'Last Train' call, with only utter essentials such as adits, spinals, 'Ponics and barracks dug, residents would still need those rigs for many, many more months to progressively extend the initially basic accommodation. So, I'd laid heavy emphasis on 'sustainability': Better to run those essential TBMs a tad slower for scant down-time rather than 'just-too-hard'. Wondrous hourly 'drives' punctuated by random halts were no substitute for predictable progress: 'Murphy Mishaps' are the bane of Gantt Charts...

Based on local geology, via core samples and pilot bores, I'd established a nominal 'sweet-spot with provisos and cautions' for each Teppui's big TBM. Jill was one of the few shift-operators who routinely, consistently did better. In fact, her TBM shifts' steady progress, her 'Mean Time Between Failure' were such 'outliers', I'd made several wary visits to convince myself her logs were true. Watching her sat in what seemed a trance for hour after hour, minutely adjusting, tweaking her TBM's systems, anticipating, compensating for nigh-subliminal variations, left me awed. I had uncommon focus, plus my medical augments' aid if required. Jill, though, was in a different league. After confirming she was not on booster drugs, I'd nod politely, back away.

"Jake !" Jill called from what seemed an anatomically implausible contortion. "You've been so busy !"

"And you're looking totally topological !" I dropped my voice so we would not be heard over the session's relaxing 'muzak'. "But I thought you were staying on Chaparral ?"

"Nah... " She shook her head then, with a near-fluid elegance to rival cats or cephalopods, unwound to a basic tuck. "Not after I realised the Pastors' Neo-Puritan faction were planning to lock down deep-shelter society stricter than those historical 'Pilgrim Fathers' ! Where's the fun in that ?"

"Fair point," I admitted. Jill had been well-known, bordering on 'infamous', for her wild parties and torrid, nay, 'volcanic' affaires. Not my concern, given she *always* showed up to work sober and sufficiently rested. But, her comment had opened a 'Can of Worms'. "Hmm. When you can, tell the Gillespies--"

"Huh ? Those travelling musicians ?"

"They're a lot more than that, Jill: Convention sent them to study Chaparral society ahead of the probable decade or more's isolation."

"I'll be..."

"If Chaparral's Pastors had a strict lock-down *officially* planned, perhaps much more than appropriate caution against over-consumption, too rapid population growth and such, the Gillespies need to know." I took a shaky breath. "At the very least, excessive restrictions would be 'Un-Conventional', incur sanctions. At worst, it suggests there was a zealots' 'Palace Coup' brewing..."

"Yeah, there were whispers, rumours: We thought them clumsy jokes !"

"Ah. Given your information, the Gillespies might retrospectively spot hints, clues, precursors. Yes, we're a long, long way from home. Yes, may be decades, perhaps a century before the Convention / Alliance comes looking for us." I shook my head. "But your whistle-blow needs to be 'On the Record' against the next time."

"We have been tossed 'Wild and Wide'." Jill sniffed. "Still beats playing 'Houri' for Pastor Lennox, that big Tepui's so-smarmy 'First Councillor': The leering lout tried to 'claim' me as his 'Personal Squeeze' !"

We'd met. He'd sneered at my apparent youth, was aghast when I then insisted he address me as 'Doctor Kinson' instead of my usual 'Mister' or, simply, 'Jake'. Under duress, however, I reckoned Jill would resort to 'Infirmative Action'. I was fairly sure she'd done some Aikido. Very carefully, I asked, "How memorably did you dissuade him ?"

"A week's bed-rest and pee-pipe for his 'groin strain'. Couple of weeks' traction for his lower back. Physio for six dislocated fingers, left elbow and right shoulder. Couple of minor sprains..." Jill calmly tallied, then sighed, admitted, "But I had to grab my go-bag and run !"

"I'll let Anne-Marie know you're aboard." I grinned. "She liked your style. I'm just not limber enough for some of her moves."

"Ha ! You obviously do okay ! And, my very belated apologies: After I'd teased her for acquiring a 'Toy-Boy', A-M just shook her head, said you were a 'Really Good Guy', remarkably capable."

"I'm a fourth-generation Geologist: We cross-train."

"A-M did mention you were 'Disconcertingly Dangerous'." She gave me a calculating look. "Even for A-M, that was one hell of an under-statement: I didn't realise by how much until I saw the footage of Harris' take-down...

"You could have gone 'Fox in a Hen-House', broken her minions like so many crispy-wings !"

"Fortunately, I also had lesser options."

"Quite..." She repeated that calculating look. "But how many others aboard could honestly claim that ?"

I shrugged, allowed, "Hopefully, enough."

[Belushi TD]

Something doesn't ring true here. Please correct me where my assumptions are wrong, and the ring will probably true up quickly....

1. 6,000 people on the ship, thereabouts?
2. Passenger lists and bios have been studied intensely looking for skills that can be used, if I recall correctly, by both our hero and heroine.
3. its been a large number of months since the initial "oops".

How did our hero not realize that she was on board, since they've previously been friends?

Belushi TD

[jemhouston]

How are you feeling?

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Just shy of 5000...
"Officially, it was four-nine-something-something plus the skeleton crew."

Jake and A-M were initially hyper-focussed on 'Ponics skills / training, then Jake on aptitude for Evac Pod stripping / re-work for gas processing.

Jake and A-M thought Jill was staying on Chaparral.
It's possible that, given her 'Infirmative Action', Jill boarded her Evac Pod or shuttle 'Less than Overtly'. And, yes, in addition to having abandoned much on Chaparral, she may have been severely distressed by Fresno's 'Long Jump' Field Shock and consequences...
She may also have decided that A-M and Jake had enough going on, so 'Laid Low'...
--

Me ? Weird having dominant eye, short-sighted since adolescence, now suddenly long-sighted. Still 'settling', still have some astigmatism. And, L-eye's cataract has mostly progressed to 'frosted glass', only good for peripheral and night-vision.
Next Ophthalmic appt on 04 Sept. Will check possible minor retinal bleed, partially auto-resolved to 'exasperating foggy smudges'. May need yet-another 'Scary-Mary' intra-ocular enzyme injection, have to defer optician visit for Px spectacle lens by a couple more weeks. Working this computer using a budget pair of 'generic' x2 reading glasses...

I've spent last few weeks recursively tweaking Fresno 'buffer' text, unable to add more than a paragraph or so before 'Writers Block' set in. No 'Thousand Words a Day', not even close. At least I can again read my manuscript notes for next-but-one major arc. Fortunately, grim perseverance seems to have worked the worst knots from my wits. I've finally begun work on Chapter #96. Which has 'bumped' this much-augmented #92 from buffer...

[jemhouston]

Stand advice, rest, don't overdo it, and listen to the doctors.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #93

Following that disturbing discovery, I munched through an indifferent lunch in their near-by Diner. Refuelled, I went up to the axis, via docking legs and core to the other Berthing pod. This was the 'end' that spawned the most Diner free-loaders, had earned the most quasi-official ire. It was noticeable that planter / trellis count in public spaces was 'similar', but vegetation some-what sparser. They certainly had significantly fewer plants at each stage. These had yet to fully clear the stale 'berthing' odour.

Their 'meeting room' was surprisingly busy, with multiple side-groups 'Crafting' while others gathered three deep around several adjoining wipe-boards laid flat across trestles. One board was part-covered by an opaque cloth or sheet. For a while, given their Caller's rapid spiel, the half-dozen Players' hectic dice-rolling, formulaic replies and token moves, the watchers' cheers and groans, I thought this room had become a casino. Such wasn't forbidden, but the cascade of problems un-regulated gambling could spawn unsettled.

After some unhappy moments, I realised their big 'Top Table' carried the map for an unfamiliar board-game. Not 'Monopoly', not an extended 'Snakes and Ladders', it seemed much more 'free-form'. A palimpsest of colour-coded lines and zones, it was over-lain in places by layers of magnetic stickers with hand annotations. And since when did 'parlour' games use octahedral or more complex dice ?

Belatedly, I realised it was an 'Adventure' variant. Not my scene, but I knew a little of such. And, yes, given it could be 'Non-Zero Sum', I provisionally approved. Rather than intrude on what now seemed a furious mêlée, I stepped across to inspect the wall-side 'Crafting' tables. Most Artists and 'Makers' were young adults, the majority teen men, some of whom I half-recognised from our Evac pods' stripping on Chaparral and aboard Fresno.

I met the surprised gaze of balding Pete Prentice, who'd been a senior shelter excavation HVAC guy. What with the rationing and having had a young family on Avalon, he looked a cruel decade older than when I'd last seen him. Still, his eyes lit.

"Jake !" He set down the fist-sized lump of 'Engineering' plastic he'd been meticulously whittling. "That was nice work on the iceteroid ! What brings you here ?"

"Curiosity, Pete." I waved about. "Looks like fun !"

"It is," he admitted, nodding towards the progressing mayhem on the 'Main Board'. "We've most of Chaparral's 'D&D' club. About a third more are on 'C' shift, will take over this campaign in a couple of hours. I'm not in that league, but I've reached 'Journeyman-Artificer (Lawful)'."

I reverse-engineered the lexicon, offered, "Tricks, traps and 'Can-Do' fixes ?"

"Exactly !" He chuckled. "They'd a wide-flung membership. Did virtual gaming within and between Tepuis, but in-person when they could.

"I worked with a lot of them on Chaparral. They're good kids: Sensible, flexible wits, eager to learn, very careful with detail. Very, very careful with detail...

"Local 'Leavers' had already gone, all these were planning to stay. A full decade's work still to be done." Pete shook his head. "Then something spooked them. They won't talk about it, but something really, really spooked them. Whole lot 'decamped' at the last minute. Helped strip 'spare' Evac pods, then boarded the rest. Them, their teen sisters, cousins, friends and 'Significant Others', now mostly paired-off..."

"Sounds like Chaparral's lost the 'Best and Brightest' of their generation," I mused. "A lot of skills, too..."

"Shelter extension work will certainly struggle for a while," Pete agreed. "I thought the last Astro data had thrown up an even-worse 'nasty', but it wasn't that. Or, at least, I don't think so..."

"No, Fresno running through Chaparral's 'Einstein Focus' was, um, grossly unfortunate," I allowed. "Although, had the Crew stopped to think...

"But Fresno getting *this* far-- Well, definitely 'New Science' !" I thought for a moment, mused, "I wonder if that's what happened to 'City of Trieste' ?"

"Huh ? Why does that-- Ah ! About twenty years ago ? Charter run out of Avalon ? Thousand or so new settlers for the 'Libration Lands' on Tucson ?"

"That's it. 'Regionally Habitable' face-locked, around the Red Dwarf of that wide binary up towards 'Galactic North..." I shook my head, both at the loss and the system name's so-clunky pun. "Just enough supplementary insolation from the distant F7V Blue-White to prevent it going 'Full Ice-House', with half the atmosphere freezing out on the dark side. Totally fascinating geology, and easily as unlikely as our Earth/Moon pairing."

"Shows the universe is weirder, wilder than we can imagine..."

"Too right ! But, 'Trieste' didn't arrive." I took a breath. "Convention looked high and low. No debris, not a trace, not a clue. Nothing weird or wondrous, not even the least anomaly, the loosest correlate. When the hostile Others showed up, was thought might have been them. But, seems not." I shrugged. "Case is still open. And, it's sorta-personal because Mum and Dad lost a good friend."

"Ha !" Pete took a long breath, shrugged. "Still, 'Fresno' getting punted to the next Spiral Arm was one helluva kick in the nuts...

"Jake, I'm not ashamed to admit I needed 'fuzzy' pills off the Doc. I've-- I'd a wonderful wife and two lovely kids on Avalon. I'll only see and hear them again in photos, hug them again in my dreams...

"Upside, these Chaparral teens knew and respected me. Seems I'd been a very welcome change from their own, rather hide-bound 'Father Figures', never mind their dour 'Pastors' ! Here, they sorta adopted me as their Mentor. So, I now have an 'extended family' of a kind. We do basic 'Ponics and HVAC servicing to stay busy. Most are also studying library courses, many tutored by the Tuggers' remarkably clever Miss Betrys." He quirked a grin at my wry nod. "Plus Hands-On 'Workshop Skills' with the Engineers.

"And, I'm proud to say, none of them, not a single one, was involved in the Diner Hack..."

I returned a respectful nod.

"When the 'D&D' club re-constituted, I'd pitched an idea to the Engineers," Pete continued. "They released some of the many, many 'Ponic corner-pads and similar 'scrap' to us. We get the makings for figures and props. Fresno gets detailed reports on those materials' properties, their adaptability, durability, compatibility: What works well, what doesn't, any work-arounds..."

"Makes sense." I nodded. An unhappy thought developed. It curdled, congealed. "Pete, I've heard mention of Chaparral's 'Neo-Puritan' movement--"

"Fook !!" Pete's eyes flew wide. "Dire Lord Murphy and his gigglin' Gremlins ! That's the missing piece ! Yes, the big 'North Shetland' Tepui group was strictly 'secular'. And, yes, the remote 'Maters' were matriarchal, some-times weirdly--"

"Harris' aberrant behaviour was 'Diminished Responsibility'," I cautioned. "Don't ask."

"How the--" Pete shook his head. "Gotcha. But the many mid-latitude settlements-- Well, a dour quorum of their Pastors disapproved of anything, anything they considered even remotely frivolous, never mind fun. Including, yes, 'Adventure' gaming. Silly, really, because the club's motto, their war-cry is 'Strive Against Evil !!'..."

I nodded slowly, reasoned it through. "So, without regular star-ships to keep them fully Conventional, the Neo-Puritan faction perhaps saw their chance to make-over shelter society per their own template...

"By the time 'Normal Service' resumed, it would be a 'fait accompli'. Or so they must have thought." I shook my head. "But I reckon they're wrong, horribly, horribly wrong. Worse, they've forgotten their history: First Convention star-ship will probably have a 'Special Convener' aboard, plus enough Marines to handle crowd trouble.

"Those Un-Conventional Pastors, their Deputies and Facilitators would be arraigned, then shot or deported to Avalon..."

"And good riddance !!"

"But too much of their plan must have leaked. So, these young folk voted with their feet..." I sighed. "Pete, my deepest, deepest sympathies for your loss. I hope you and these young folk can help each-other heal.

"Chaparral's uppity Neo-Puritan Pastors, though-- You need to talk to the Gillespies--"

"Those trad 'Travelling Troubadours' ? These loved their style, but I heard several Pastors even vetoed half their usual play-list as 'Too Wild' !"

"Yeah, that should have raised alerts. Perhaps it did ?" I shook my head. Did the Gillespies send a 'preliminary report' ? "But 'Folk Music' is a side-gig, their business is Sociology--"

"You cannot be serious !"

"I kid you not: The Convention sent them as Ethnographers to document Chaparral before the gap. You must, must tell them what we've just discussed. I've not long spoken to some-one else with similar concerns. Jill Rollings--"

"Huh ? 'Jill of the Jungle' ? I thought she was staying ! But--"

"She had to apply 'Infirmative Action' to her local Pastor, grab her go-bag and run..."

"Ay-ay-ay..." Pete shook his head. "And the Gillespies do Sociology ?"

"Plus, I reckon they're sufficiently 'Itinerant Bards' to fit right in with this crew. As, uh, what's the term ? 'Non-Player Characters' ?"

"Yes, that's it ! Our young 'Bards' have a lot of rhymes and chants the Gillespies could adapt..." Pete shrugged. "And, yes, some voice-coaching, instruments would help..."

"Ah, well, the 'Luthier' club is my next-but-one stop," I admitted. "They did not complain about keeping my Hard-Suit training venue volatiles-free, so, if I could put some business and possible Apprentices their way..."

[jemhouston]

Things are getting interesting.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #94

Rather than go along that 'Berthing Module', either at 'Hab' level or via the 'Ponics', I headed up to the axis, then inwards along the docking leg to Fresno's centre-line. As near the ship's 'barbecue roll' axis as I could, I found a secure hand-hold near a wall-screen. First things first: Accessing the screen, I composed brief text-mails to Lt. Richards and the Gillespies, reported my unsettling discussions with Jill and Pete. Then, I sent one to Anne-Marie, cc'd to the Diner coders, with an idea. The way the 'D&D' club rolled dice for results perhaps offered an acceptable way to allot non-identical or 'Too Few' menu 'Goodies'...

Such business resolved for now, I gradually, warily lowered the default sensitivity thresholds on my Nav' augment. Here, on-axis, alone and un-troubled, I did not have to contend with Berthing module whirl, the Field Poles in the Ponics' fusors, smaller Poles in various ship-system pumps etc, even those on stand-by in my 'Big Mac'.

The data soon confirmed Fresno was running 'very economically'. The ship was slowly, warily accelerating at a fraction of the usual ¼-g, minimising the compensation, the 'tuning' provided by these Hexagon stages' big 'Auxilliary' Poles. After a while, I found how to distinguish the Power Section's 'Lead' from their subtle 'Backing'. It was remarkably soothing. It felt like light rain on a good roof. Or, yes, like the gentle rustle of sand saltating across a wide, wide beach's drying ripples, up to a Marran-grassed dune-line. Better, it gave me a rough density estimate for this region's 'Interstellar Medium'. Yes, it was significantly thicker than the familiar 'sparse' space within our 'Local Bubble'. Even so, it was still far, far thinner than some of our charted 'MasCons', such as the famous cloud at 'Nova 6/8/5'...

Eventually, I got bored, very bored. I was turning towards the docking leg for our 'home' berthing pod when I noticed both big centre-line docking ports were occupied. Both ? How so ? Docked snug between the legs of this 'Hexagon' stage and the next forward, our two berthing pods with their contra-rotating spin-drums were partly balanced by the mass of a third pod. It served as an auxiliary 'Shuttle Bay', ferrying sundry Chaparral craft that could not be sheltered in adits. Between those, a pod of 'Ship Stores' was on the centre-line. This matched a similar pod ahead of the Crew Section and its short spin-drum. But, aft of my location, what was there ?

Studying indicator and status displays, then hunting through the 'outside' views, soon confirmed another pod was indeed attached aft of this 'Hexagon' stage. Hard-docked. No pressure warnings. No safety or hazard warnings. No local 'Bill of Lading', even. Just there, bearing a familiar 'Restricted Access, Authorised Personnel Only' caution. With, beyond the next 'stage' astern, another. Had the two pods of Chaparral's un-delivered 'Gifts & Goodies' been moved ? My check found those still docked between their 'stage' legs. And, like this pair, their external look and 'tug handling' markings flagged them as 'Atmospheric Controlled: Non-Condensing'. So, breathable as-is, albeit with possible 'stale' zones: 'Confined Space' working applied. Certainly not anoxic / inert, rapidly toxic, vacuum or cryo-tankage. From Anne-Marie's reports, I knew the Engineers had stashed most of our Iceteroid gleanings much further aft.

My curiosity piqued, I queried Fresno's ship-status display. To my surprise, that claimed there was nothing, nothing on the centre-line immediately aft of where I stood. Or beyond that. In fact, there was then a lack of 'centre-line' pods until 'Engineering Country'. Yes, ahead were those 'Stores' pods, book-ending the Crew pod. Evac pods were variously distributed between other legs, some re-positioned during the lengthy stop-over while Rock Tugs gleaned. Like all of those, this anonymous centre-line pair were not 'Built In', simply 'Hard Docked'. Any services could be swiftly disconnected. Though it would take rather more handling care than if hung between 'Docking Legs', they could be eased out from between Fresno's triple spines.

But, what was in this unexpected pair ? And were there any others ??

Eventually, after trying many routes through Library and Log, I exhausted my 'open access' credentials. Deploying any of my Comm augment's tools would have been inappropriate. Besides, data access for this stray pair of pods wasn't pass-word protected or encrypted. It was not even flagged as [REDACTED]. It was just a gap, missing...

I sent a cautiously worded text-mail to Lieutenant Richards. I did not know his shift schedule, so was careful not to set a 'priority'. Besides, he'd probably want to do some very, very wary research before replying. Fresno's library, configured as a multi-location, multi-tier 'RAID' system plus 'WORM' archive, should have been nigh-immune to mishap or mayhem. If the well-distributed storage had developed a 'Blind Spot', resembling how historical media could degrade, producing 'Bad Tracks', then he needed time and space to investigate.

[jemhouston]

Spanner in the works found?

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #95

I was still puzzling over the existence of these 'undocumented' cargo pods when a terse reply came through from Lieutenant Richards. "Please wait there: Team due in ten minutes."

They arrived in eight. Lt. Richards led the way down the docking leg, closely followed by two unfamiliar Crew in 'atmospheric' suits, their helmets open. Then came overall-clad Cadet Collins. Young Bruce was, as you'd expect, utterly at ease in the minimal gravity. Anne-Marie brought up the rear, throwing me a huge grin as the Lieutenant called, mock-serious, "Mr. Kinson ! I could come to dread your text-mails ! A cruel conspiracy exposed on Chaparral ? An elegant method for equably allotting variably sized food-portions ? Now, a pair of undocumented cargo pods ??"

I shrugged, admitted, "All in plain sight, just needed their dots joining..."

"Lieutenant Baxter cannot decide if she should hug you or hate you for finding these pods."

"They could be empty," I allowed. "Left over from another run."

"They're not empty-- Far from it ! Their contents mass enough to slightly skew Fresno's total lading." Lt. Richards shook his head as the two Crew addressed the centre-line's air-lock, began safety checks. "Not enough to be obvious, but there if you look sufficiently closely..."

"Their documentation ?"

"I have just learned that, sufficiently riled, Lt. Baxter can swear like a 'Space Marine' ! She does not tolerate even the least un-documented error or anomaly, so you may imagine her ire over this extraneous pair of cargo pods. She has begun a most fearsome hunt for anything relevant."

I was saved from finding a cogent response that did *not* reference the still-infamous 'Spanish Inquisition' by the two Crew's report, "First, Ship-side lock sensors validated."

"You are clear to proceed with due care," he made formal reply.

The pair up-linked their body-cams to left and right halves of the nearest display screen, did final suit checks. Helmets closed, they worked the big hatch's 'crew-way'. Beyond that, alternating safety lines as I'd done on that iceteroid, they operated the outer lock like-wise, before crossing the short docking tunnel to the pod. They checked its locks' instruments. "First, Pod-side lock sensors validated. There's safe-enough atmosphere: Ambient pressure, 17 % oxygen / nitrogen at 10º C. No toxics or corrosives. Very low humidity. Confirm 'Confined Space' procedures applicable."

"You are clear to proceed with due care."

The pod was, of course, dark beyond the lock and suit lights. Beside the lock, though, was a panel of switches. Those brought up 'warehouse grade' luminaires. At first, the pod's busy interior seemed but an angular jumble of shadowed shapes. But, considered side-ways, it was efficient, random-access 'high racking'. Three 'wells' of stacks were set tangent-trefoil, each with two long-reach 'mantis' handlers riding a shared mono-rail to delve deep into the tiers. These handlers would usually work semi-independently, briskly collecting / delivering 'picks' via the pod-end air-locks. They could swop 'picks' or pair-up if required.

Our Berthing Pod 'Ponics had come as many, many generic, metre-cube IBC 'Intermediate Bulk Containers', plus a veritable zoo of metre-square pallets and metre-wide racks of various heights, lengths. They'd been carefully, carefully queued in order of need. Here, I could see a much less ordered mix of metre pallets among many crates sized from metre-cube upwards. I reckoned a nimble 'Knapsack' algorithm had made very efficient use of this cargo pod. By the look, it surely balanced load-out mass distribution while shoe-horning 'odd-shaped' stuff into well 'corners' where racking symmetry yielded to exigency.

After a wary scan for debris from breakages or spills, the two Crew woke the pod's data system, sought the 'Bill of Lading'. "First, good news and bad. The 'Handler Control System' is intact. There is a picking index with back-up: Location, consignment reference, size, mass and handling flags. Both check-sum okay. But, each 'Tell Me More' link calls the same empty data-base. A null-file. Back-up's null, too."

"Pod 'Init' file and back-up are also null, so Fresno could not grok them."

"There's no trace of prior files, nothing we could 'trawl', patch."

"Last date-stamps and activity were at Avalon space-dock. These files were not scrambled by Fresno's 'Long Jump'."

"Thank you," Lt Richards replied with commendable restraint. He shook his head, glumly muttered, "Looks like we have another 'Gifts & Goodies' scenario..."

[jemhouston]

Let's see what was being smuggled.

I'm thinking I'm getting paranoid about things lately. Could the accident that stranded them, not be an accident?