Forums » Role Playing
Diner was over. Plates were being picked up.
"So, mommy... why do not I have a papa?
- Well, you know you could not have been if you didn't have a daddy.
- I know that mommy. But why did he die? Why is he not here now?"
Pause.
"It's a rather complex story, Camillia.
- You always say that. You're borring.
- You always say that.
- You will have to tell me one day. Nothing can remain a secret."
Bath was over. Bubbles were all but gone.
"Mommy, why did we change name?
- What do you mean, change name?
- I saw an old holo-pictures of you and daddy, me and a little boy. The frame had different names than ours. Was it a mistake?
- Just don't ever repeat that name dear. It was... it was mistake on the picture frame.
- You lie again."
Silence.
"Mommy, who was the little boy on the picture?
- The holographer's son.
- He has papa's eyes. Why do you lie to me?
- To protect you dear."
The lights were out. The bed sheets pulled.
"Good night dear. Don't let the oruns bite you!
- Mommy, why did the deck handler salute me?
- He was playing with you my dear.
- You lie again. He was afraid. I could see it in his mind.
- I told you not to do that Camillia. Mom is upset now.
- You didn't get upset when I stopped that trainee from crashing his ship in the kitchen window earlier today.
- That was different dear. But still, you shouldn't play with ships. Maybe you should have let that pilot in space learn on his own instead of correcting him. You didn't eat your entire plate again. How much of his license should be yours by now?
- I only parked his ship mommy.
- See? You lie too!"
Outside... ships were dancing in the night. Not the typical war dance. It was a joyful dance. They jumped up and down and circled around each other. They followed every movements in Camillia's dreams.
The deck handler was not amused.
"So, mommy... why do not I have a papa?
- Well, you know you could not have been if you didn't have a daddy.
- I know that mommy. But why did he die? Why is he not here now?"
Pause.
"It's a rather complex story, Camillia.
- You always say that. You're borring.
- You always say that.
- You will have to tell me one day. Nothing can remain a secret."
Bath was over. Bubbles were all but gone.
"Mommy, why did we change name?
- What do you mean, change name?
- I saw an old holo-pictures of you and daddy, me and a little boy. The frame had different names than ours. Was it a mistake?
- Just don't ever repeat that name dear. It was... it was mistake on the picture frame.
- You lie again."
Silence.
"Mommy, who was the little boy on the picture?
- The holographer's son.
- He has papa's eyes. Why do you lie to me?
- To protect you dear."
The lights were out. The bed sheets pulled.
"Good night dear. Don't let the oruns bite you!
- Mommy, why did the deck handler salute me?
- He was playing with you my dear.
- You lie again. He was afraid. I could see it in his mind.
- I told you not to do that Camillia. Mom is upset now.
- You didn't get upset when I stopped that trainee from crashing his ship in the kitchen window earlier today.
- That was different dear. But still, you shouldn't play with ships. Maybe you should have let that pilot in space learn on his own instead of correcting him. You didn't eat your entire plate again. How much of his license should be yours by now?
- I only parked his ship mommy.
- See? You lie too!"
Outside... ships were dancing in the night. Not the typical war dance. It was a joyful dance. They jumped up and down and circled around each other. They followed every movements in Camillia's dreams.
The deck handler was not amused.
Logical error:
quote:
- What do you mean, change name?
- I saw an old holo-pictures of you and daddy, me and a little boy. The frame had different names than ours. Was it a mistake?
- Just don't ever repeat that name dear. It was... it was mistake on the picture frame.
She never even said the name. Although there are quite a few explanations as to why she could say that, I wouldn't let it dangle so much in the air.
Otherwise, I like.
quote:
- What do you mean, change name?
- I saw an old holo-pictures of you and daddy, me and a little boy. The frame had different names than ours. Was it a mistake?
- Just don't ever repeat that name dear. It was... it was mistake on the picture frame.
She never even said the name. Although there are quite a few explanations as to why she could say that, I wouldn't let it dangle so much in the air.
Otherwise, I like.
The name was left out intentionally because it is part of the mystery. Giving away the name would reveal chunks of the story not meant to be shared... at least not yet.
Point taken, but then it smells of overly strong patronization. Of the reader, that is.
Let the events speak for themselves.
It got to be Mac, LeberMac.
"There. They stopped.
- You sure?
- Yeah... look... a flower again. Just like last week. Get your ass out there and bring them ships back in the hangar before their owners come and claim them. Breakfast time's over and they'll be storming in any time soon.
- Yes chief."
Outside... a giant flower was being dismantled.
"She spooks me..."
A ship was towed to the hangar.
"She spooks me not..."
Another ship was towed to the hangar.
"She spooks me...
- Cut it out Deck Handler. We dont want that on the deck frequencies. The last thing we need is inquisitive visitors.
- Roger that chief."
One by one, ships were moved from their surreal formation back to the hangar. Like giant petals, Valkyries, Centurions and Vultures were being put back in their original park zone. Paint touch-ups were being made for the occasional fender-benders caused by the night's ballet.
"She's a witch. I tell you chief.
- Bull crap. Heck, half the monks would be witches by your accounts. Besides... you tell me how that 7 year old girl can control ships if she's not at the helm. You're loosing it, handler.
- I know it's her. I just know it. How do you explain all that chief?
- Take the day off handler. You had a rough night.
- I want to be reassigned sir.
- Denied. Go to bed. It's an order.
- Yes chief sir."
The deck handler was tiredly heading back to his quarters. Knees and knuckles alike barely holding on. Eyes, injected with blood, were desperately trying to stay focused as he walked the corridors against on-comers.
And there she was, holding an oxeye daisy. Jumping alongside her mother, she carried her school bag and then stopped by him. He froze. In terror.
"You're the soldier in my dream!, she said.
- Come along! said the mother. Don't talk to strangers I told you!
- Good day mister" Camillia said, extending her frail little arm for an offering.
The deck handler picked the flower and watched them walk away.
The flower dropped. A sole ripped it apart.
"Witch!" he muttered.
- You sure?
- Yeah... look... a flower again. Just like last week. Get your ass out there and bring them ships back in the hangar before their owners come and claim them. Breakfast time's over and they'll be storming in any time soon.
- Yes chief."
Outside... a giant flower was being dismantled.
"She spooks me..."
A ship was towed to the hangar.
"She spooks me not..."
Another ship was towed to the hangar.
"She spooks me...
- Cut it out Deck Handler. We dont want that on the deck frequencies. The last thing we need is inquisitive visitors.
- Roger that chief."
One by one, ships were moved from their surreal formation back to the hangar. Like giant petals, Valkyries, Centurions and Vultures were being put back in their original park zone. Paint touch-ups were being made for the occasional fender-benders caused by the night's ballet.
"She's a witch. I tell you chief.
- Bull crap. Heck, half the monks would be witches by your accounts. Besides... you tell me how that 7 year old girl can control ships if she's not at the helm. You're loosing it, handler.
- I know it's her. I just know it. How do you explain all that chief?
- Take the day off handler. You had a rough night.
- I want to be reassigned sir.
- Denied. Go to bed. It's an order.
- Yes chief sir."
The deck handler was tiredly heading back to his quarters. Knees and knuckles alike barely holding on. Eyes, injected with blood, were desperately trying to stay focused as he walked the corridors against on-comers.
And there she was, holding an oxeye daisy. Jumping alongside her mother, she carried her school bag and then stopped by him. He froze. In terror.
"You're the soldier in my dream!, she said.
- Come along! said the mother. Don't talk to strangers I told you!
- Good day mister" Camillia said, extending her frail little arm for an offering.
The deck handler picked the flower and watched them walk away.
The flower dropped. A sole ripped it apart.
"Witch!" he muttered.
The books were closed. The lessons over.
"Mommy, can we look at the other holopictures in your closet?
- Is that where you found that old one yesterday?
- I hide there sometimes when I make nightmares.
- They're really just old pictures. Many not very good too.
- Like the one with the mistaken names?"
Nodding.
"Mommy, where was that holopicture taken?
- It was taken in the station recreation deck.
- There is a planet in the window. Not like here.
- A different station, yes."
The holopictures were put back in place. Souvenirs stirred.
"Those were nice pictures mommy. But there was no holographer was there?
- Someone had to hold the camera dear.
- You lie again. We can see the tripod reflecting in some frames.
- That's very astute of yours. And you're right.
- Did the boy die with daddy too?"
Sigh.
"Camillia, did you really dream about that deck handler?
- Yes. I dreamt he was a soldier.
- A soldier? Was there a war in your dream?
- I dont think so. I don't remember. He wanted me off the station."
Boxes were taped shut. Libraries emptied.
"Mommy, why are we moving again?
- Because I found a nicer home for us, dear.
- Are we going back to Jallik?
- Jallik? In Itani space? Why Jallik?
- That's where that picture was taken. I recognized the planet today in class."
Hesitation.
"It was a vacation my dear.
- A family vacation? I don't remember it.
- You were too young my dear. Sometimes kids forget things.
- Like that boy in the holopicture. I had forgotten I had a brother."
Tears were released. Some stories told.
In the end, a mother and a daughter held hands and comforted each other. Another couple of days and the boxes would be emptied. Libraries filled.
Closets shut close again, guarding their secrets.
"Mommy, can we look at the other holopictures in your closet?
- Is that where you found that old one yesterday?
- I hide there sometimes when I make nightmares.
- They're really just old pictures. Many not very good too.
- Like the one with the mistaken names?"
Nodding.
"Mommy, where was that holopicture taken?
- It was taken in the station recreation deck.
- There is a planet in the window. Not like here.
- A different station, yes."
The holopictures were put back in place. Souvenirs stirred.
"Those were nice pictures mommy. But there was no holographer was there?
- Someone had to hold the camera dear.
- You lie again. We can see the tripod reflecting in some frames.
- That's very astute of yours. And you're right.
- Did the boy die with daddy too?"
Sigh.
"Camillia, did you really dream about that deck handler?
- Yes. I dreamt he was a soldier.
- A soldier? Was there a war in your dream?
- I dont think so. I don't remember. He wanted me off the station."
Boxes were taped shut. Libraries emptied.
"Mommy, why are we moving again?
- Because I found a nicer home for us, dear.
- Are we going back to Jallik?
- Jallik? In Itani space? Why Jallik?
- That's where that picture was taken. I recognized the planet today in class."
Hesitation.
"It was a vacation my dear.
- A family vacation? I don't remember it.
- You were too young my dear. Sometimes kids forget things.
- Like that boy in the holopicture. I had forgotten I had a brother."
Tears were released. Some stories told.
In the end, a mother and a daughter held hands and comforted each other. Another couple of days and the boxes would be emptied. Libraries filled.
Closets shut close again, guarding their secrets.
"OK. They finally stopped, chief.
- This one's strange. See a pattern?
- No. Not this time. They just seem leveled off like some virtual parking out there.
- Let's get to it. Bring them back."
Outside... a deck handler played herder again. And then saw the wolf.
"Chief... the ships... from this angle, there is a pattern.
- What is it?
- Three parallel lines. The center one longer on both ends, horizontally aligned with the station sir. It's GTS sir.
- Not a word of this. Bring the ships home."
Ships were parked one by one, back in their original places. The deck was watered down and infuriated pilots, who had to wait outside until the end of the maneuvers, told the deck had been decontaminated, blaming some made-up spill caused by some made-up noob pilot's made-up deck crash during the night.
"You dont look as tired today handler. Had a good night's sleep?
- Hrm. You could say that. I just know it's going to stop soon.
- What makes you think that?
- I paid her mother a little visit yesterday. They're moving out this very week-end.
- You did WHAT?!
- I did what I had to do to protect our jobs, sir. I told her the Serco would pay a lot for a kid monk.
- Pack up your gear deck handler. You're suspended!"
A facilities clerk was temporarily blind. Blinded by a cash bribe and by cleverly looking away while a deck handler tinkered on his machine. Files dug up, names listed, nationality ID numbers pulled, compared, matched... and some mismatched.
"Got you!" one said, while the other cured his blindnes.
- This one's strange. See a pattern?
- No. Not this time. They just seem leveled off like some virtual parking out there.
- Let's get to it. Bring them back."
Outside... a deck handler played herder again. And then saw the wolf.
"Chief... the ships... from this angle, there is a pattern.
- What is it?
- Three parallel lines. The center one longer on both ends, horizontally aligned with the station sir. It's GTS sir.
- Not a word of this. Bring the ships home."
Ships were parked one by one, back in their original places. The deck was watered down and infuriated pilots, who had to wait outside until the end of the maneuvers, told the deck had been decontaminated, blaming some made-up spill caused by some made-up noob pilot's made-up deck crash during the night.
"You dont look as tired today handler. Had a good night's sleep?
- Hrm. You could say that. I just know it's going to stop soon.
- What makes you think that?
- I paid her mother a little visit yesterday. They're moving out this very week-end.
- You did WHAT?!
- I did what I had to do to protect our jobs, sir. I told her the Serco would pay a lot for a kid monk.
- Pack up your gear deck handler. You're suspended!"
A facilities clerk was temporarily blind. Blinded by a cash bribe and by cleverly looking away while a deck handler tinkered on his machine. Files dug up, names listed, nationality ID numbers pulled, compared, matched... and some mismatched.
"Got you!" one said, while the other cured his blindnes.
"Nothing. Two days straight. Patience has it's virtues! quipped the chief deck handler.
- Of course, nothing. The witch is gone. They moved out yesterday.
- Stop it with the nonsense deck handler. You've alienated everyone on the deck with your spooky tales.
- I tell you it's that kid. And I bet we're not the first flight deck she messes up. They've had to move before. I've looked it up.
- Deck handler, if you keep messing with that widow I'll personally see to it that you get jailed for harassment.
- You don't know half of it chief. Their nationality IDs have been forged. They're not even UIT.
- Forged my ass. How do you know that?"
The deck handler pulled out his PDA and brought up the files copied from the facilities clerk's computer. The relevant documents were displayed and notations linked with other documents showed in clear details the minute discrepancies.
"Wait wait... back up... the nationality numbers... they're not in the right series for their supposed date of birth.
- I told you chief... they're illegals. Either that or deported from another system or in hiding. And I intend to find out.
- You shouldn't deal with that. Just report it. Anonymously. You dont want a trail leading back to you. Maybe there's a serious reason they're hiding.
- Now you're the one trying to spook me, chief. But I will find out. I will."
The deck handler looked at his PDA once more and started imagining all sorts of romanesque ending where he, and himself alone, had put in light some intergalactic intrigue like the spy stories on the holovision.
"Yeah!! he thought... Double Omega-Seven is on to you kid monk!"
- Of course, nothing. The witch is gone. They moved out yesterday.
- Stop it with the nonsense deck handler. You've alienated everyone on the deck with your spooky tales.
- I tell you it's that kid. And I bet we're not the first flight deck she messes up. They've had to move before. I've looked it up.
- Deck handler, if you keep messing with that widow I'll personally see to it that you get jailed for harassment.
- You don't know half of it chief. Their nationality IDs have been forged. They're not even UIT.
- Forged my ass. How do you know that?"
The deck handler pulled out his PDA and brought up the files copied from the facilities clerk's computer. The relevant documents were displayed and notations linked with other documents showed in clear details the minute discrepancies.
"Wait wait... back up... the nationality numbers... they're not in the right series for their supposed date of birth.
- I told you chief... they're illegals. Either that or deported from another system or in hiding. And I intend to find out.
- You shouldn't deal with that. Just report it. Anonymously. You dont want a trail leading back to you. Maybe there's a serious reason they're hiding.
- Now you're the one trying to spook me, chief. But I will find out. I will."
The deck handler looked at his PDA once more and started imagining all sorts of romanesque ending where he, and himself alone, had put in light some intergalactic intrigue like the spy stories on the holovision.
"Yeah!! he thought... Double Omega-Seven is on to you kid monk!"
Old Ecka refilled the glasses of the four men around the table from the bottle of vintage Dau wine . Three old traders listening to the story being told by the fourth much younger man .
He raised an eyebrow , leaned back and said " Ah , one of the few pleasures of a life in space . A good glass of wine , and a gripping yarn. Pray continue....."
He raised an eyebrow , leaned back and said " Ah , one of the few pleasures of a life in space . A good glass of wine , and a gripping yarn. Pray continue....."
Boxes were put away. Libraries filled again.
"Mommy, do we have to keep lying?
- Sometimes, Camillias my dear, we have to. Not big lies. Little white lies.
- White lies?
- Lies that dont hurt other people my dear. We're just keeping to ourselves our own private lives."
Stare.
"Mommy, why do we keep moving? Did we do something wrong?
- Oh no my dear. It's just that... well, there are mean people we would rather avoid.
- Are those people responsible for daddy and my brother?
- Partly yes. But there are other reasons too. It relates to what your father was."
More stories told. Some nice and joyful while others not.
"Mommy, why did uncle turn mean?
- He didn't my dear. He got tricked into it.
- He was told lies was he?
- Yes my dear. Mean lies.
- Mommy, I don't want to lie any more. Not even white lies."
Surprise.
"But Camillia... it doesn't hurt anybody to not know who we are.
- It hurts me mommy.
- But... no! It protects you baby! The mean folks out there would find us both!
- Then they will. I don't want to hide. I've done nothing wrong."
And with such words of defiance, a little kid was grounded and went to bed early. A mother, meanwhile, was looking for another way to present the situation to an overly-honnest protege.
"Mommy, do we have to keep lying?
- Sometimes, Camillias my dear, we have to. Not big lies. Little white lies.
- White lies?
- Lies that dont hurt other people my dear. We're just keeping to ourselves our own private lives."
Stare.
"Mommy, why do we keep moving? Did we do something wrong?
- Oh no my dear. It's just that... well, there are mean people we would rather avoid.
- Are those people responsible for daddy and my brother?
- Partly yes. But there are other reasons too. It relates to what your father was."
More stories told. Some nice and joyful while others not.
"Mommy, why did uncle turn mean?
- He didn't my dear. He got tricked into it.
- He was told lies was he?
- Yes my dear. Mean lies.
- Mommy, I don't want to lie any more. Not even white lies."
Surprise.
"But Camillia... it doesn't hurt anybody to not know who we are.
- It hurts me mommy.
- But... no! It protects you baby! The mean folks out there would find us both!
- Then they will. I don't want to hide. I've done nothing wrong."
And with such words of defiance, a little kid was grounded and went to bed early. A mother, meanwhile, was looking for another way to present the situation to an overly-honnest protege.
"Wait wait wait! Stop shouting! Slow down! Take a deep breath. Slowly. Through the nose... there... calm down... now stay focussed and tell me what's going on.
- Man it's like! It's like they're all over the place! Gone crazy! They blew open an exit bay and by blew I mean BLEW it! The whole shabang! BANG BANG! ZAP ZAP! The entire artillery!
- Who did? Why didn't the strike force get them?!
- NoOOooOoO!!! Not OUT there! *IN* here damnit!
- Whaaa?
- Our deck chief is down in the hospital deck man! One of them crazy ships simply rammed him! Something is driving them! Not someone... something! Like a hive bot or something! The Valkyries are backflipping, the Centurions and spinning and the Revenants turboing IN-MY-HAN-GAR! it's like the ships are angry at me or something!"
The deck handler put away the receptor, covering the mouth piece and camera with his hands and yelled out "Hey chief! Chief! Come here!
- What?
- The witch is down in Nyrius! Look at what's going on in their deck! Huh!? Wasn't I right? Wasn't I right to shove her away?!
- Damn! Look at that deck! That whole wall is down!
- And the ships are gone too!
- Tell him our procedure. The spill thing."
A deck handler explained another station's chief deck handler how to patch up the situation and then got cracking with the details.
This deck handler was becoming a real pro at this situation and was well on his way to uncover more about the kid monk.
- Man it's like! It's like they're all over the place! Gone crazy! They blew open an exit bay and by blew I mean BLEW it! The whole shabang! BANG BANG! ZAP ZAP! The entire artillery!
- Who did? Why didn't the strike force get them?!
- NoOOooOoO!!! Not OUT there! *IN* here damnit!
- Whaaa?
- Our deck chief is down in the hospital deck man! One of them crazy ships simply rammed him! Something is driving them! Not someone... something! Like a hive bot or something! The Valkyries are backflipping, the Centurions and spinning and the Revenants turboing IN-MY-HAN-GAR! it's like the ships are angry at me or something!"
The deck handler put away the receptor, covering the mouth piece and camera with his hands and yelled out "Hey chief! Chief! Come here!
- What?
- The witch is down in Nyrius! Look at what's going on in their deck! Huh!? Wasn't I right? Wasn't I right to shove her away?!
- Damn! Look at that deck! That whole wall is down!
- And the ships are gone too!
- Tell him our procedure. The spill thing."
A deck handler explained another station's chief deck handler how to patch up the situation and then got cracking with the details.
This deck handler was becoming a real pro at this situation and was well on his way to uncover more about the kid monk.
One chief deck handler was overseeing repairs in his hangar while another chief deck handler, in another station, was covering up for the unscheduled absence of his deck handler.
This last one was back at the facilities clerk's computer where his impromptu investigation was being carried out. The blind clerk was silently reading the news until his vision came back, which usually coincided with the deck handler's departure.
"You... have... to be... kidding me...!" he mumbled to himself.
- What? You found something, deck master?
- Handler. I'm a deck handler, desk jockey. And no, nothing that concerns you."
The deck handler, having copied the relevant information in his PDA, made a hasty return to his work place, chanting a song of the spy stories on the holovision...
"Ta! Ta! Ta-ta-ta! Ta! Ta-di-ta! Ta! Ta-ta-ta! Ta! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na! ..."
His victorious mumming of that song was as ridiculous as his hand gestures as he walked into the hangar deck.
"Well aren't you cheery today, said the chief handler. While you were out playing super-spy, I had to cover your ass to the station intendant who was looking for you earlier. I told him you're sick. Congratulation: you have the flue.
- Thanks boss! But it wont be necessary anymore. I *know* who's been moving our kid monk. Better yet, I know who's been paying the bills for it. Even better, I have solid clues that will probably lead me... to their real names!
- You think they're forged too?
- You bet. Those national ID numbers of theirs of from dead people. I have the proofs right in here, said the deck handler pointing at his PDA.
- So? You keeping all that to yourself?
- For now yes. I want to get to their real names. But for that... I'll need to pay a visit to Jalik. Yes my friend, they are not UIT. Just like I told you. They're both Itani.
- You have to report this handler. If they are spies, let competent people deal with it.
- Hey... if the competent authorities didn't find out already... it means I'm better at this than they are. *I* will deal with uncovering their identities and *I* will deal with counting my reward!
- Just remember I'm still covering your ass."
A pair of friends exchanged winks, shook hands, and went on to their usual business. One was mumming a song. The other desperately trying to ignore the catchy tune.
This last one was back at the facilities clerk's computer where his impromptu investigation was being carried out. The blind clerk was silently reading the news until his vision came back, which usually coincided with the deck handler's departure.
"You... have... to be... kidding me...!" he mumbled to himself.
- What? You found something, deck master?
- Handler. I'm a deck handler, desk jockey. And no, nothing that concerns you."
The deck handler, having copied the relevant information in his PDA, made a hasty return to his work place, chanting a song of the spy stories on the holovision...
"Ta! Ta! Ta-ta-ta! Ta! Ta-di-ta! Ta! Ta-ta-ta! Ta! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na-naaaa! Na-na! ..."
His victorious mumming of that song was as ridiculous as his hand gestures as he walked into the hangar deck.
"Well aren't you cheery today, said the chief handler. While you were out playing super-spy, I had to cover your ass to the station intendant who was looking for you earlier. I told him you're sick. Congratulation: you have the flue.
- Thanks boss! But it wont be necessary anymore. I *know* who's been moving our kid monk. Better yet, I know who's been paying the bills for it. Even better, I have solid clues that will probably lead me... to their real names!
- You think they're forged too?
- You bet. Those national ID numbers of theirs of from dead people. I have the proofs right in here, said the deck handler pointing at his PDA.
- So? You keeping all that to yourself?
- For now yes. I want to get to their real names. But for that... I'll need to pay a visit to Jalik. Yes my friend, they are not UIT. Just like I told you. They're both Itani.
- You have to report this handler. If they are spies, let competent people deal with it.
- Hey... if the competent authorities didn't find out already... it means I'm better at this than they are. *I* will deal with uncovering their identities and *I* will deal with counting my reward!
- Just remember I'm still covering your ass."
A pair of friends exchanged winks, shook hands, and went on to their usual business. One was mumming a song. The other desperately trying to ignore the catchy tune.
"Uh-hu... yes sir... I understand sir... no sir... we think it might be... yes sir... related to the chemical spill last week sir... uh-hu... yes sir Intendent Sir!"
*click*
"Damnit, thought the chief deck handler. He's pushy."
Having covered for the absence of his deck handler, the chief deck handler was reviewing some of the files that his deck handler agreed showing him. It detailed passenger lists on civilian ships for the last six months which concerned two very specific (and dubious) nationality ID numbers. Six stations. Six! They had moved 6 times in as many months.
The chief deck handler started to notice a pattern which wasn't highlighted yet in the deck handler's notes. The civilian carriers were all of the same company... all commissioned from the same agency... from the same client... a third and different nationality ID number. This one was itani-issued.
The chief was willing to bet this person would surely know who the two person of interest were in reality.
Meanwhile, a would-be spy was walking the alleys in the visitors section of an Itani station, right on the border. Reaching an in-door solarium he sat on a park bench and made sure his red suitcase was visible, placing it in-between his feet, securing it in place. Dressed in an attire more akin to those of low-profile traders, notwithstanding the red suitcase, the deck handler was waiting to meet with a less scrupulous individual whose job was not as respectful as parking and attending ships.
A man of small stature sat next to him and, almost in a caricature of his bench buddy, placed a yellow suitcase in-between his feet.
The pact was sealed. One man got up, faking to look for a lighter in his pockets to light up a large cigar. The other got up, to his rescue, offering a light. The man exchanges politeness in the process and then sat back down, switching places in the process.
Eventually the deck handler watched his savior walk away, with a red suitcase, while he was securing the yellow suitcase between his feet. Finishing his cigar with a sense of triumph, the deck handler got up, walked down the alleys until he reached a restroom and sat down for business. With the suitcase on his lap, the deck handler was shuffling the stack of meaningless papers until he found the one he paid dearly for.
It was an innocent projected profit graf page, on which was taped a datapad memory card.
A quick flush to keep prying eyes from peering in his direction and the deck handler was out of the restroom, in direction for the main hangar, leaving the yellow suitcase behind.
Back in his government-issued bus, the deck handler made sure he got what he really paid for and then left the station, heading back to UIT space.
"Wait 'til the chief sees that!" he though.
*click*
"Damnit, thought the chief deck handler. He's pushy."
Having covered for the absence of his deck handler, the chief deck handler was reviewing some of the files that his deck handler agreed showing him. It detailed passenger lists on civilian ships for the last six months which concerned two very specific (and dubious) nationality ID numbers. Six stations. Six! They had moved 6 times in as many months.
The chief deck handler started to notice a pattern which wasn't highlighted yet in the deck handler's notes. The civilian carriers were all of the same company... all commissioned from the same agency... from the same client... a third and different nationality ID number. This one was itani-issued.
The chief was willing to bet this person would surely know who the two person of interest were in reality.
Meanwhile, a would-be spy was walking the alleys in the visitors section of an Itani station, right on the border. Reaching an in-door solarium he sat on a park bench and made sure his red suitcase was visible, placing it in-between his feet, securing it in place. Dressed in an attire more akin to those of low-profile traders, notwithstanding the red suitcase, the deck handler was waiting to meet with a less scrupulous individual whose job was not as respectful as parking and attending ships.
A man of small stature sat next to him and, almost in a caricature of his bench buddy, placed a yellow suitcase in-between his feet.
The pact was sealed. One man got up, faking to look for a lighter in his pockets to light up a large cigar. The other got up, to his rescue, offering a light. The man exchanges politeness in the process and then sat back down, switching places in the process.
Eventually the deck handler watched his savior walk away, with a red suitcase, while he was securing the yellow suitcase between his feet. Finishing his cigar with a sense of triumph, the deck handler got up, walked down the alleys until he reached a restroom and sat down for business. With the suitcase on his lap, the deck handler was shuffling the stack of meaningless papers until he found the one he paid dearly for.
It was an innocent projected profit graf page, on which was taped a datapad memory card.
A quick flush to keep prying eyes from peering in his direction and the deck handler was out of the restroom, in direction for the main hangar, leaving the yellow suitcase behind.
Back in his government-issued bus, the deck handler made sure he got what he really paid for and then left the station, heading back to UIT space.
"Wait 'til the chief sees that!" he though.
Old Ecka listens to the tale......
A woman was reviewing her PDA. Reading local and nation news.
"Incoming transmission, a smooth synthesized voice announced after a soft chirp.
- Yes?" answered the mother.
The voice at the other end asked if the move had gone smoothly.
"Yes, she replied. Though I can't help but feeling tracked all the time."
The caller replied that he had a team of bodyguards keeping a watchful eye just in case.
"But... how will I know, when I'm followed, that I am dealing with the guards and not an assailant?"
The reassuring calm voice answered she wouldn't have to deal with assailants of any sort and that her protection was assured. That it was part of the contract to protect relatives of the squadron members. Be them alive or not.
"I'm worried about Camillia. She wants to know who she really is. She knows we're hiding. That we changed our names. She knows her real name!"
Pause.
The voice mentioned that another monastery might be willing to help. Despite what happen at the first one, for that incident has been well covered up.
"It's happening here too, the mother said. I can see it. Right now, through my bedroom window. I can see them move and this time, it's orderly. I'm sure it's a conscious act now. It has to be. But she doesn't talk about it."
The voice suggested that the mother didn't confront the situation just yet. That part of the team that protected her also took care of dammage control of that nature too, whenever possible he added, hinting at the incident of Sarkon Research in Nyrius.
"I want to know how she does it. It worries me."
The voice suggested she let it be for now and that the daughter would eventually come forth.
Salutations and best wishes were exchanged. A communication closed.
"Do you see the ship move, now? a man asked.
- Yes. It moves like I tell it to. But it's hard, Camillia replied.
- Try not to think to much. Just imagine the ship moving. Imagine you're inside and at the thought-control console yourself.
- I'd have to see it. I just dont know how it's laid out.
- It's like at the amusement fair we went to, dear. You control the ships just like the go-round toss-pods.
- The ships are harder. They're not tethered. Tell me how to..."
Someone knocked at the door. Camillia turned off the screen and pulled the magic key out of the communicator socket, just in time to keep her secret, as the door was sliding open.
"Time for school my dear, the mother said.
- I dont want to go to another school!
- But you have to. Imagine all the friends you would make that wont have the pleasure of your company if you dont!
- I can learn everything I want from here.
- Well, that's partly true dear. But at school, you get to tinker with particle experiments. I dont have that equipment here. Now go on! We dont want to be late!"
The girl reluctantly got up and walked away with her mother. Passing the door step, she turned over her shoulder and winked at the computer.
"Incoming transmission, a smooth synthesized voice announced after a soft chirp.
- Yes?" answered the mother.
The voice at the other end asked if the move had gone smoothly.
"Yes, she replied. Though I can't help but feeling tracked all the time."
The caller replied that he had a team of bodyguards keeping a watchful eye just in case.
"But... how will I know, when I'm followed, that I am dealing with the guards and not an assailant?"
The reassuring calm voice answered she wouldn't have to deal with assailants of any sort and that her protection was assured. That it was part of the contract to protect relatives of the squadron members. Be them alive or not.
"I'm worried about Camillia. She wants to know who she really is. She knows we're hiding. That we changed our names. She knows her real name!"
Pause.
The voice mentioned that another monastery might be willing to help. Despite what happen at the first one, for that incident has been well covered up.
"It's happening here too, the mother said. I can see it. Right now, through my bedroom window. I can see them move and this time, it's orderly. I'm sure it's a conscious act now. It has to be. But she doesn't talk about it."
The voice suggested that the mother didn't confront the situation just yet. That part of the team that protected her also took care of dammage control of that nature too, whenever possible he added, hinting at the incident of Sarkon Research in Nyrius.
"I want to know how she does it. It worries me."
The voice suggested she let it be for now and that the daughter would eventually come forth.
Salutations and best wishes were exchanged. A communication closed.
"Do you see the ship move, now? a man asked.
- Yes. It moves like I tell it to. But it's hard, Camillia replied.
- Try not to think to much. Just imagine the ship moving. Imagine you're inside and at the thought-control console yourself.
- I'd have to see it. I just dont know how it's laid out.
- It's like at the amusement fair we went to, dear. You control the ships just like the go-round toss-pods.
- The ships are harder. They're not tethered. Tell me how to..."
Someone knocked at the door. Camillia turned off the screen and pulled the magic key out of the communicator socket, just in time to keep her secret, as the door was sliding open.
"Time for school my dear, the mother said.
- I dont want to go to another school!
- But you have to. Imagine all the friends you would make that wont have the pleasure of your company if you dont!
- I can learn everything I want from here.
- Well, that's partly true dear. But at school, you get to tinker with particle experiments. I dont have that equipment here. Now go on! We dont want to be late!"
The girl reluctantly got up and walked away with her mother. Passing the door step, she turned over her shoulder and winked at the computer.
"Dead end. Nothing. Why doesn't this lead anywhere? I seemed so close for a moment.
- Well, you lack some analytical skills, handler.
- Are you diss-ing me chief? I might not have a class 4 certification, but it doesn't make me any less intelligent than you.
- No one is denigrating your status, handler. But last time you went out and I covered your butt, I analysed what you dared show me. And... well... I figured out a few things on my own.
- Oh? Show me.
- Fifty fifty.
- Void! Hey, I'm the one who risked my neck thus far.
- I risked as much by covering you. It makes me an accomplice. Fifty fifty.
- I hate you.
- Then we're even. Deal?"
The two men spat in their hands and agreed, de-facto, on the deal. The chief deck handler would pay half of all expenses of the impromptu investigation with the promise of an equal share of any money transaction.
The deck handler then proceeded in sharing the new information he had uncovered. Coupled with the findings of the chief, a much clearer picture appeared, astonishing them both.
"It's clear, now, that those identities are forged. Not just the nationality ID number. They're entirely fake. They are, in fact, Itani. It's clear. Look, chief: tracing back all transaction IDs, it shows that all the paperwork originates from this system. That's Divine Duty. The capitol! Void! Whoever is pulling those strings must be high up.
- I think it's time that we consider bailing out, handler. If those are national spies, they're surely on to us.
- Don't wuss out on me chief. This information is taking more and more value.
- Who would buy this information? We dont yet even know who they are.
- You don't. I do. Or rather, I have a pretty good idea, given I know who has been paying for their transfers.
- You can't be certain of that with this information. Though I agree it does point in a certain direction.
- Let me tell you a bit of recent history, chief, and you'll understand how it just, makes, sense..."
The men sat for hours, discussing various things and twisting every details they could in every way. Eventually, a number of possibility rose and through the process of elimitation... narrowed it down to just a couple of possibilities. Monetary figures were being sketched up for the value of either piece of information.
They were certain millionaires already.
- Well, you lack some analytical skills, handler.
- Are you diss-ing me chief? I might not have a class 4 certification, but it doesn't make me any less intelligent than you.
- No one is denigrating your status, handler. But last time you went out and I covered your butt, I analysed what you dared show me. And... well... I figured out a few things on my own.
- Oh? Show me.
- Fifty fifty.
- Void! Hey, I'm the one who risked my neck thus far.
- I risked as much by covering you. It makes me an accomplice. Fifty fifty.
- I hate you.
- Then we're even. Deal?"
The two men spat in their hands and agreed, de-facto, on the deal. The chief deck handler would pay half of all expenses of the impromptu investigation with the promise of an equal share of any money transaction.
The deck handler then proceeded in sharing the new information he had uncovered. Coupled with the findings of the chief, a much clearer picture appeared, astonishing them both.
"It's clear, now, that those identities are forged. Not just the nationality ID number. They're entirely fake. They are, in fact, Itani. It's clear. Look, chief: tracing back all transaction IDs, it shows that all the paperwork originates from this system. That's Divine Duty. The capitol! Void! Whoever is pulling those strings must be high up.
- I think it's time that we consider bailing out, handler. If those are national spies, they're surely on to us.
- Don't wuss out on me chief. This information is taking more and more value.
- Who would buy this information? We dont yet even know who they are.
- You don't. I do. Or rather, I have a pretty good idea, given I know who has been paying for their transfers.
- You can't be certain of that with this information. Though I agree it does point in a certain direction.
- Let me tell you a bit of recent history, chief, and you'll understand how it just, makes, sense..."
The men sat for hours, discussing various things and twisting every details they could in every way. Eventually, a number of possibility rose and through the process of elimitation... narrowed it down to just a couple of possibilities. Monetary figures were being sketched up for the value of either piece of information.
They were certain millionaires already.
<OOC> For best effect: http://www.canonbal.org/track10.wav </OOC>
A mother was storing away dishes in the washer. A daughter was studying in her bedroom.
"Mimi my dear? Are you done? the mother asked, looking down the hall.
- In a minute mommy.
- What's taking so long dear?
- I... uh... I'm putting things away mommy!" Camillia replied.
Anxious, the mother went to the living room and tried to peek outside. Nothing unusual. No ships in flower or other unlikely formation. No strike force guarding the dock entry port. Everything seemed normal.
The mother approached the bedroom silently, doing what inquisitive parents sometimes do: spying on their kids. As she approached, she could make out Camillia whispering. Smiling, she imagined her daughter reading a story on her PDA.
Then someone replied to her. Panic struck, the mother swarmed into the room, ready to defend her daughter's life, with her own if need be.
Nothing. Nothing the but a scared, or rather very surprised daughter with that familiar "Uh-ho" face kids make when caught doing something bad.
"You see now my love? Turning off flight assist does wonder for maneuvering. Do you have your ship flying backwards now?" a machine asked.
The mother, with an eerie look on her face, stepped to her left so to get her daughter out of sight of the computer screen. There, a face, a familiar face, repeated itself until some answer:
"You see now my love? Turning off flight assist does wonder for maneuvering. Do you have your ship flying backwards now? the machine asked.
- Daddy lives in the machine now, mommy."
The mother dropped to her knees with a moan of mixed emotions, while a backing ship silently tipped over an antenna on top of the station.
A mother was storing away dishes in the washer. A daughter was studying in her bedroom.
"Mimi my dear? Are you done? the mother asked, looking down the hall.
- In a minute mommy.
- What's taking so long dear?
- I... uh... I'm putting things away mommy!" Camillia replied.
Anxious, the mother went to the living room and tried to peek outside. Nothing unusual. No ships in flower or other unlikely formation. No strike force guarding the dock entry port. Everything seemed normal.
The mother approached the bedroom silently, doing what inquisitive parents sometimes do: spying on their kids. As she approached, she could make out Camillia whispering. Smiling, she imagined her daughter reading a story on her PDA.
Then someone replied to her. Panic struck, the mother swarmed into the room, ready to defend her daughter's life, with her own if need be.
Nothing. Nothing the but a scared, or rather very surprised daughter with that familiar "Uh-ho" face kids make when caught doing something bad.
"You see now my love? Turning off flight assist does wonder for maneuvering. Do you have your ship flying backwards now?" a machine asked.
The mother, with an eerie look on her face, stepped to her left so to get her daughter out of sight of the computer screen. There, a face, a familiar face, repeated itself until some answer:
"You see now my love? Turning off flight assist does wonder for maneuvering. Do you have your ship flying backwards now? the machine asked.
- Daddy lives in the machine now, mommy."
The mother dropped to her knees with a moan of mixed emotions, while a backing ship silently tipped over an antenna on top of the station.
"I'm putting my money on scenario two. Everything points to that, said the chief deck handler.
- Yeah... me too... but it still sounds far fetched.
- Which makes this even more valuable I think.
- How do we gage the value of this information? How do we announce we have this information for sale without cannibalizing the sale itself?
- Yes, that is a problem. Unless we sell the information to one who'd be likely to buy it regardless of who it is and get a bonus on delivery.
- And not get killed too. How do we go about finding a head hunter that hunts anyone?
- Well, there are a couple of murderers out there. Surely we can name a few. But, it might be too dangerous to deal with them. But tell me... who's been airing nonstop babbling about baptisms on the waves recently? I sure bet he'd be interested in buying his way to un-pure souls. And that god of theirs would surely like to get her hands on a kid monk.
- Ah! I've heard he's no prime pilot but he could take you any time, chief! How do you figure he wont blow you to bits once you've told him?
- Simple time-delayed information. We sell the PDA with information on it and a remote file unlocks the crucial information. The file is unlocked only when you get back to base. With our credit.
- Me?
- Yeah you. Someone has to cover for your absence. And there's no possible way you could cover for me.
- I hate you chief.
- You told me already."
The chief poured himself another glass of Deneb rum. A fresh arrival, delivered by an unlikely Itani trader just recently. Coincidentally, his name figured on the PDA. Unknowingly, the chief drank happily while the deck handler preferred water.
An add ran on the airwaves. The accomplisses knew they had formulated right.
"OK. Here's with the correction:" said the chief deck handler, then read it for the airwaves...
Wanted: baptism for blue miniature monkey and it's caretaker. GLS prized item. Contact this transponder ID for details.
- Yeah... me too... but it still sounds far fetched.
- Which makes this even more valuable I think.
- How do we gage the value of this information? How do we announce we have this information for sale without cannibalizing the sale itself?
- Yes, that is a problem. Unless we sell the information to one who'd be likely to buy it regardless of who it is and get a bonus on delivery.
- And not get killed too. How do we go about finding a head hunter that hunts anyone?
- Well, there are a couple of murderers out there. Surely we can name a few. But, it might be too dangerous to deal with them. But tell me... who's been airing nonstop babbling about baptisms on the waves recently? I sure bet he'd be interested in buying his way to un-pure souls. And that god of theirs would surely like to get her hands on a kid monk.
- Ah! I've heard he's no prime pilot but he could take you any time, chief! How do you figure he wont blow you to bits once you've told him?
- Simple time-delayed information. We sell the PDA with information on it and a remote file unlocks the crucial information. The file is unlocked only when you get back to base. With our credit.
- Me?
- Yeah you. Someone has to cover for your absence. And there's no possible way you could cover for me.
- I hate you chief.
- You told me already."
The chief poured himself another glass of Deneb rum. A fresh arrival, delivered by an unlikely Itani trader just recently. Coincidentally, his name figured on the PDA. Unknowingly, the chief drank happily while the deck handler preferred water.
An add ran on the airwaves. The accomplisses knew they had formulated right.
"OK. Here's with the correction:" said the chief deck handler, then read it for the airwaves...
Wanted: baptism for blue miniature monkey and it's caretaker. GLS prized item. Contact this transponder ID for details.