A LOPER TALE

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Welsh Halfwit
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Harry Johnathan wrote: Mon Oct 11, 2021 3:23 pm I wonder what it's like to watch a movie via holorgram.
Well, they can make a hologram recreation of a cinema auditorium... :D
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Loving where this is going now! Keep on writing!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

49

EVENING SHIFT

Micanna was on long range scans now as Sarah guided the ship towards he latest destination. Billions of miles in a week. She still couldn’t help but think in terms of fuel and how much she’d have had to spend to power a land vehicle over that sort of distance. The Bristolian nodded to herself. No-one could tell her you didn’t travel in this job. Plus the engines were a sight more effective than those of the Anderran Vollara MK. ViX she’d had ten years back. It’d probably be approaching classic status now if it hadn’t had that autodrive malfunction and crashed off the road in Clifton. More precisely the B3129 as it crossed the suspension bridge over the Clifton Gorge. Fortunately it had been on it’s way to pick her up from Whiteladies Road and not on the way back to her flop. She recalled her confusion as the automated system sent her a text saying it’d be late picking her up because it was about to come to a sudden stop IN the Gorge, the 300ft gash that ran around the city. She glanced up at the screens to see if she could make out the pinpricks of orbiting ships from this distance. Grovan’s ship, the Fallir, was one of those pinpricks. She’d never really gotten along with the Collian but still counted him as a friend. If she and Polva ever tied the knot, he’d be one of the people on her side of the chapel – or, more likely, in vid presence on her side of the chapel – and she didn’t want anything to happen to him. She didn’t trust the Mican Admiral. Was it simply because she was too tall? Too slender? Too good looking? No, she decided, not that one. You couldn’t tell people’s ethical orientation from their visual appearance. Her instincts just didn’t trust her.

Cedar laughed and hung his tennis racket up in his wardrobe before removing his wristbands. He slumped into the chair in his room and sighed at the guest to his quarters. “I’m getting better at this game,” he complained, picking up the food he’d ordered from the machine.
Colleen gave him a genial smile as she sat back on the sofa. “You are, I must admit,” she told him coyly. “You took me to three sets! You’re building stamina and strength, Cedar.” She nodded to the food. “Can’t believe you’re eating from the machine, though.”
“I’ve been making my own food all day,” he commented, forgetting that he’d spent the last 2 hours in the tennis game. “The last thing I need is my own food and the Computer makes a passable impression of a Kolvick Salara. Plus it takes five seconds, not fifty minutes.”
Colleen raised a glass. “Efficiency,” she toasted.
“Where quality isn’t needed,” Cedar returned, raising a mug of Coffee.
Colleen thought about things as she drank her drink. “Been thinking about the kids on Micanna again,” she asked.
“Huh. Wonder what I could offer? Relocation to Cora II perhaps? Live with my Uncle? I’d have to talk things over with him first, of course.”
“How are things there, Cedar?”
“Oh, getting better. Fifteen years doesn’t pass overnight, as the therapist keeps saying.” Cedar put the plate back on the table. “But he does still keep the kids entertained when he can.”
“Perhaps we can talk him into it?”
Cedar shook his head. “No. No-one’s giving a kit to someone still recovering from fifteen years in captivity. It’d have to be me.” He shrugged. “With his support, of course.”
Colleen pointed a sleek fingerclaw. “Not just his, Cedar. Whatever support I can give, you have.”
He humphed and looked at her, eyes sparkling. “Talk to the Captain about it?”
Colleen hooted. “Hah! You’d be a great debator, Cedar! You talked me into that one!”
Now he grinned impishly. “Without even trying,” he professed with some element of innocence.
“He’ll take a bit of convincing,” Colleen remarked. “Children on a starship that occasionally heads into battle and all that.”
“Ah, he listens to you.”
Colleen smirked. “When it’s useful to him.”

Hawle sat on his sofa, his feet up as the evening dragged on. He put down his book as the door booped at him and he called for the person to enter. The door opened and Lieutenant Stikka framed himself in the doorway for a moment, looking in at the pyjama clad senior officer with his fuzzy slippers on the coffee table. “I don’t want to see that picture on social media later, Manny,” he warned. “I never look good in them.”
“Huh?” Stikka shook his head. “Oh, uh, trust me, sir, I never post pictures of the crew without their permission.”
“Of course I trust you, Manny,” Hawle said, gesturing that he should come in so the door could shut as he put a bookmark in the book and placed it on the table. “After Harvey found no sign of you putting pictures up after two months…”
“Pardon?”
“Oh, standard security checks. What’s up?”
“Oh, I just needed the authorisations for the crew rotations for next week, sir,” the Racon fibbed.
“Stikka,” Hawle sighed, “you have the intellect of several people and the poker face of a Marshmallow nearing a firepit. What’s the trouble?”
“Um,” he started, shifting as the door behind him closed before he fidgeted. “It’s, er, coming up for my, um, six month review soon, sir and…”
Hawle waved a hand. “Toilet’s the second door, Manny,” he said. “We can talk after you’ve been.”
“Huh?”
“Stop dancing and relax. Sit if you like?”
Manny Stikka nodded and perched on the edge of the seat offered. “How.. How am I doing, sir,” he asked.
Hawle exhaled and sat upright, dropping his feet to the floor. One slipper fell off and he poked his foot around to get it back in before he answered. “You’re doing well in most areas, Manny. Your decision making is good. You know how to delegate and when to refer upwards. You have an understanding of people that can only come from detailed files, eh?” He curled the edge of his lip upward. “But you’re still lacking on personal management. Knowledge isn’t just what’s on file. As you know.”
“I just… don’t socialise much,” Stikka admitted.
“Do I need to invite you to dinner on Cora II or something,” Hawle asked cheekily.
Stikka recoiled slightly. “That wouldn’t be professional, sir,” he said.
“It’s also not that repellent,” Hawle chided. “I’ll mention to Chapston that she might want to invite you over on one of her film nights.” he pointed a finger. “And take it as a secret order that you’ll say ‘yes’ to at least one offer. Don’t spoil the film by telling the plot but just relax, Manny. You do it easily enough at times. I’ve seen you.”
“I do?” Stikka seemed surprised.
“You do. Now, hand me that padd." Stikka handed it over and Hawle popped his padprint onto the screen to ‘sign’ it and handed it back. “Case in point,” he said, nodding to the padd. “That was organised well.” He waved that finger again. “Don’t tell me Raven did the work, Manny. I recognise her work. And the fact she usually confuses the Jakkan brothers and assigns the mechanic to the nurse’s station and vice versa. Now let me…” He paused as the yellow alert siren sounded twice and joined the Racon on the way to the bridge.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

I honestly really like the idea of a city with a gorge running through it. It sounds visually intresting... albeit incredibly dangerous. Whiteladies' Road is a funny name, honestly (yes I know that's a street name in Bristol.) People really seem to want to go to Miccina a lot, huh?

Also social media still exists in the future. I'm scared to think how huge tech companies must've become by then.
Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But [The LORD] said, “Yes, you did laugh.” - Genesis 18:15 (NIV).
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Dinner with Hawle is definitely not repelling. And Elena should know as she always enjoys eating dinner with him especially if there is dessert involved. :lol: Anyway this is a really great chapter like always!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

50

MIDNIGHT ON THE FIRING LINE

“What do we have,” Hawle asked, slapping the Velcro epaulettes onto his pyjama top as he entered the bridge, Stikka resolutely following behind him to take up his chair opposite Raven, who moved from Hawles’ chair into her own. The Captain brushed some loose fur from the chair and sat, crossing his legs as he did so.
Raven nodded towards the screen. “The picture around Micanna, sir,” she said. Hawle glanced at it and saw that the Fallir was surrounded by Micannan Militia forces, blocking it from plotting an escape vector. “They’re not answering hails.”
“Increase to maximum speed, Chappers,” Hawle ordered. “Time to intercept?”
“Twenty minutes and thirty two seconds, sir,” Sarah replied.
“Time to get dressed, sir,” Raven asked.
“It’s the night shift and I can fight perfectly well in my pyjamas, Raven.”
“Hardly dignified, though,” she persisted. “How can they t..?” She broke off as she realised he was pointing to the epaulettes. “Of course.”
“But I CAN get a coffee,” he admitted. “I’ll be in my ready room drinking it.” He shook his head as he headed out. “Midnight is too early for this,” he complained.

Stikka thought on some of the things he’d just been discussing with Commander Hawle and ran a simulation on possible conversations and… decided to just do it, rather than formulate the perfect conversation that might never happen. “How come you’re on this shift, Ensign Chapston,” he asked awkwardly.
“I swapped with Ensign Helly,” the Human replied. “He wanted the evening off for a small birthday party.”
Stikka ran the associations file for the Rottian they were talking about and crossmatched birthdays. “Oh, Goole?”
“That’s the one, sir,” she replied, showing no surprise at the fact he knew that. “They had an evening planned. Films, food and fun.” She sighed. “So I pull the late shift.”
“Are you going to put your mind back on the danger we’re flying into,” Raven asked lightly.

Polva was back at work, washing down the floors in the main passageways after people had gone through but he’d had to stop as soon as the alert warning had sounded. People would be hurrying through any time soon and, frankly, the idea of people rushing and slipping on wet flooring wasn’t something that appealed to him. So he stood close by and warned people heading to the science stations to walk as the floor was wet from his dynamic, heroic, mopping. Harvey Winsome, of course, paid scant attention to the warning and provided one of his own by windmilling down the passageway until the new girl… Gunny or something, caught him and snuck a hug in before letting him go. “I tried warning you, Harvey,”
“Try harder, Dalmar,” Harvey shot back. “Stand in the middle with your arms outstretched or something.”
“Weren’t you in a hurry,” Polva asked before Groal called in to assign him his new duties.

Hawle returned from his coffee ‘break’ with a little more spring in his step. “Cawthorpe,” he said to the Cervidan on the comms station, “have we tried hailing anyone?”
“I was waiting until you got back to try again,” Raven said, telling Hawle she’d tried before he got to the bridge without actually telling him in words.
“Very good, Commander,” Hawle replied. “Let’s be professional, shall we? Hail the Militia ships, Cawthorpe.” he added, standing in front of the viewer.
“Militia hailed, sir,” the officer replied.

They repeated the hail a moment later and the fleet finally answered, the powerful figure of Admiral Whitcombe towering over him on the screen. “Admiral Whitcombe,” Hawle said, taking advantage of the stifled laughter his pyjamas brought from the distinguished Officer. It was why he’d kept the kit on, a gift from Elena with pictures of Bakkaberry pie slices at various angles on a blue background. “I see things have worked as planned during my absence?”
<”Commander H...”> she chuckled. <”Commander Hawle, your subordinate has acted in a provocative manner and kidnapped one of my officers I expect him to return that Officer and turn himself over for trial.”>
“And I expect him to explain himself to me, in person, when we get there in five minutes. To do that he’ll need to lower his shields.” Hawle sat down and crossed his legs again, accidentally undermining his authority by loosing one of the slippers at Stikka. “That means you’re not going to fire on him. Which means we’ll be coming in weapons ready ourselves. You fire on him, I’ll fire on you. Unless your weapons are powered down when we arrive, of course. I don’t want to fight here, Admiral.” He spread his arms. “I’m not dressed for a coffin. So let’s be adults. See you in five.”
He allowed the Admiral the chance to respond and close the link. Raven spoke. “Grovan’s got to have a good explanation for this,” she told the bridge.
“He probably does,” Hawle replied, fishing out a mint from his arm rest. “It’ll all probably make sense in a few. Want a mint in the meantime?”
Raven shook her head but Stikka looked interested so Hawle tossed him a candy. “Power weapons down to twenty percent,” Hawle ordered, “and bring us in somewhere close to Admiral Whitcombe.”
Raven relayed the order. “Should we contact the Fallir,” she asked.
Hawle waved a hand. “Nah. Harper’ll just end up telling us the same story twice.” He popped the sweet in. “B’tt’r we jufth hear it onth.”
Besides, Hawle thought, he had a feeling he knew what was going on anyhow.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

You know Bakkaberry isn't the only pie flavor I'm sure Hawle would be hit with. There are so many others. Some more messy. Anyway nice chapter again!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

51

WHAT GROVAN DID

Hawle reappeared from his rooms after having stopped in to pick up his jacket and was in the middle of putting it on when Colleen caught up with him. “What’s the…” She lost track of what she was saying as she noted his pyjamas underneath the jacket and took a second to compose herself. “What’s going on,” she asked, indicating the yellow alert.
“How are you still looking perfect at gone midnight,” Hawle asked, remembering he’d forgotten to take his epaulettes off his top before putting the jacket on and fighting to pull them out now.
“Breeding,” Colleen preened. “And a rapid speed brush. Yellow alert?”
“Oh,” Hawle replied. “I left Harper in charge on Micanna. I’m pretty sure he’s done something to annoy Admiral Whitcombe. Seeing as she has him surrounded and all that. We’ll be there in two minutes,” he added, re-entering the bridge and taking his station up again. “Said I didn’t have time to get dressed, Raven,” he told his first Officer. Stikka looked impassively at Colleen as she hovered, waiting for his chair and trying not to look irritated at the fact he wasn’t giving it up. In the end she headed over to a spare seat at the side of the bridge as Chapston slowed the ship to standard thrust speed. “Weapons on,” Hawle asked.
“Low power, as asked.”
“Condition of Militia fleet?”
“Standing down, apparently,” Match commented, scanning the ships.
“Hail the Fallir,” Hawle ordered. “Request Lieutenant Commander Grovan and his Chief of Security to come over. Then extend the same request to Whitcombe. I want this resolved NOW and I’m not going to someone else's’ ship dressed like this. I’ll receive them in the conference room.”
“Do you want me there, Captain,” Colleen asked.
“No… er, yes. Mostly it’ll be a matter of clearing up the issue but some brows may need to be smoothed.”
Sarah Chapston, listening in from the helm, didn’t bother correcting him. She had no taste for a mint right now.

Hawle was sat before Grovan and his security Chief, a Feline male, entered the room under escort and made their way to table. “Commander,” Grovan said excitedly, “I’m glad you turned up when you did. I was going to have to…”
Hawle held up a hand. “Save it, Harper,” he interrupted. “I’m not in the best of moods and I’m certainly not in the mood to hear it twice. Admiral Whitcombe’s on her way and it’s best if you tell us both at once.”
“Understood.” The pair sat and waited until the Mican Admiral and her attaché arrived and looked at the Collian Officer.
“I assume this is a preamble to a trial,” she asked before moving across to take up seats on the other side of the table.
“More an explanation of why we hope there’s no need for one,” Hawle breezed. He noted her look of annoyance and continued. “Before we left for Rayvon, I left Lieutenant Commander Grovan with a set of instructions, Admiral. Along with helping your forces restore order – as I believe they’ve done well with, which is a statement of your qualities of command, by the way...”
She inclined her head in mute acceptance of the compliment.
“...But I had to have Grovan conduct part of his duties without your knowledge.”
“Why?”
Hawle indicated that it was a question Grovan should answer. The Collian took up the thread.

“Commander Hawle had made me aware of the assassination of a businessmican called Minchin,” Grovan admitted, “and he asked me to look into how the killer escaped as part of the investigation into Calavix, Admiral. Chief Daltey here worked with Sheriff Barley and an officer called…” Seemingly forgetting the Officer’s name, Grovan turned to Daltey.
“Merrim, sir,” he reported. “She’s quite efficient, as is the Sheriff. We worked through the logs and reports to see who would have access to a teleport machine. They’re not exactly common on Micanna, outside official sources and the power cost is, generally, measurable. And we couldn’t find any that matched. Then we got access to Militia records from you, Admiral.”
Whitcombe nodded, her face showing that she wasn’t happy with where this line of thought was going. “As I told you, Lieutenant,” she said, “there were no teleports listed by any ship at that time. So WHY did you kidnap one of my troops? We’re getting no nearer to that!”
“Actually, Admiral,” Grovan said calmly, “we are.”
“You are correct, Admiral,” Daltey agreed. “We did NOT discover anything in the logs from your ships. However, Deputy Merrim and Sheriff Barley managed to get the same logs from Militia Command in the city. They get an automatic copy of all logs from the Militia ships in orbit around Micanna. They… thought it would clear a few hurdles when we were going to ask you for the records,” he explained apologetically to the tall Mican. “They didn’t know you’d co-operate with the requests. The records didn’t match, Admiral.”
“What,” she said simply. Grovan slid across a padd with the two sets of data on it.
“At the time of the killing,” Grovan told her, “the Command Centre has the teleporter on the ship called Mova in use twice in quick succession,” he explained. “One up and one down to a different part of the city. These records were wiped from the ships’ records but the Command centre had already archived them. With Militia involvement, I’m afraid I didn’t know who to trust, Admiral. We followed the lead where it lead and it took us to a section of the city where we found the weapon disposed in a storm drain of all things. No prints on it, of course. No DNA. So we looked up the teleport Officer. A…”
“...Ensign Kartur,” the Admiral grumbled. “Who I would very much like to talk to. I want confirmation of this, Commander.”
“Which you might never get, Admiral,” Hawle replied. “However…” He turned to Groal. “I take it you arrested this Ensign?”
Grovan nodded. “Yes, sir. That was what got us blockaded.”
Whitcombe spun the padd back across the table at speed. “You beamed him straight off his ship!”
“I didn’t feel the time was right to involve the Militia to tell them one of their own was involved in a conspiracy, Admiral! What, exactly would you have done?”
Whitcome thrust herself up from her seat, both hands on the table. “I would have considered all the options…”
“I think…” Colleen said.
“...Not inflamed an already tense situation!”
“Can I talk,” Hawle asked. “Harper, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Hawle quietly glanced at the Admiral to silence the objection she was about to make. “You did everything pretty much as I might have done. But, with this information, I take it you’ll be looking to interrogate this Kartur, Admiral?”
“Officially that would be an internal matter, Commander,” she allowed, “but certainly, he’d have to make a lot of answers.”
“Then we’ll turn him over to you.” Now the glance was to Grovan. “It’s now officially an internal matter to Micanna, Harper. We don’t have jurisdiction. And, before you say it, it might be it leads to – or they work for - Calavix. In that case the Admiral here will deal with it off the books and we’ll never find out. Or,” he sighed, “there’s the other possibility. And we’ll never find out about that, either.”
“What other possibility,” Grovan asked.
“That the assassination was planned and carried out by Mican Intelligence,” Hawle commented.
The Admiral looked inscrutable, just like an Admiral.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Wonderful work once again! Though my preferred version of Hawle is fully dressed. :D
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

52

AWKWARD TALK

“It’s one am,” Karlavan Groal said, clapping his meaty hands together with a powerful pop, “and the ship’s still in one piece so I think we can assume the panic’s over. All who aren’t working the night shift can head for bed” He sighed and smirked slightly, turning his face away from the others to hide it. “Sikly,” he continued, talking to his Mican deputy, “things running as normal?”
The Mican gave him an update on things as most of the others filed out and Groal couldn’t help but notice that the slightly dressed Katara was compelled to stay behind by Januvitski and he commented on it after Sikly finished.
“Something Jan wishes you to talk to me about, Hanna?”
“In private, sir.” It wasn’t a question so Groal escorted her to his office and closed the door.
“All right, Hanna,” Groal said as he took a seat and looked up at her, “what’s the issue?”

She took a moment to compose herself before deciding to reply with honesty. “To put it clearly, sir,” she said intently, “I cannot say I totally approve of your union with the Lappinean lady. Not,” she added quickly, “that I can’t understand love and affection but I don’t think too highly of, uh, wasting genes.”
Groal felt the anger in him growing but he wondered where the Engineer was going with this. He’d known that a lot of Celicans held the same sort of feeling towards those who chose to make families with other species. Part of the perfectionist diatribe they’d often been indoctrinated with over the generations but he’d felt it was more trouble than it was worth, following that line of thinking.
“I… I don’t blame her, of course,” she continued quickly, putting her hands out. “Anything but. “
“Gracious of you,” Groal grumbled.
“It’s more the fact that your skill, intellect and, as I say, good genes would be, um, lost to us and… Well, it’s hard to not think of the lessons I was taught throughout my life and… it’s only in the last few years that I’ve really… gotten to know a lot of other races and seen how they look at me and half of them want to mate with me and… I’m not explaining myself too well, am I?”
Groal felt the anger he’d felt cool. “It’s never easy to argue with indoctrination, Katara.” He shifted some of the papers on his desk. “But I would rather you get to it.”
“Well,” Katara said, shifting from foot to foot. “As I said I can’t really approve but I can understand so… If you want me to, I’ll bear witness at the ceremony.”
Groal blinked. This wasn’t the destination he’d been expecting. “Well that’s, uh… generous,” he acknowledged, “but you’re not a Tod and you’re not exactly a friend either, are you?”
“The Tod part’s not binding in the contract these days and I’m friend<i>ly</i>.” The Greyfur Vixen swished her tail with a touch of nerves, unconsciously mimicking a tail wag. “And, uh, I have grown to respect you over the short time we’ve worked together, sir.”
“It’s 2am, Hanna. We’re off duty. You can call me Karlavan.”
She cocked her head at an angle. “Not Karla?”
“We’re not THAT friendly yet, Hanna.”

“So,” Harper Grovan asked as Hawle looked at him over the table, “how do you mean ‘Mican intelligence’?”
The admiral had left so only Groal saw Hawle simply gesture towards Colleen, sat in the corner. She took it as it being her cue to continue the explanation, especially as Hawle put his head on the table and laid his ears flat. “It’s quite simple, Harper,” she admitted. “In this thing, the ship has been dealing with criminal conspirators who’ve been hunted across the patch by several intelligence and military services, primarily ours in the Council and the Mican services. But all the intelligence services are after them. We’ve even been dealing with Raitchian Intelligence and, officially, they don’t exist in the patch. They’ve been deeply involved in this but, as for Mican Intelligence? We’ve heard neither hide nor hair of them in all this and, when half of it has been on a large, Mican, colony? They must have an operative there, at least, wouldn’t you say?”
Grovan had to agree there was, at least, a chance. “There’s probably a lot in what you say, Ambassador,” he told his fellow Collian, “but it’s quite a lot of trust.”
“If you wanna call it an order,” Hawle said into the table, “you can.”
Grovan stood up. “I’d rather call it inter-agency co-operation,” he said, earning himself a ‘thumbs up’ from the Lappinean on the table.
The Collian excused himself and Hawle pulled his head up. “I think it’s time I went to bed,” he told Colleen. “I have to be up in.. Four hours.” He yawned. “Then I have to find time to write up a mission report for Postlethwaite. Don’t suppose you’d do it?”
She shook her head. “Don’t look at me, Commander. I’ve got to find a way of writing up how I resolved the trade dispute without mentioning how I blackmailed the Finance Minister of a growing colony into keeping his job rather than being held accountable.”
Hawle yawned again. “You made him accountable, Colleen. He was getting complacent to the point where others were going to take control of him. Maybe he’ll be restrained now.” Hawle stood up. “You’ve done your usual good job, Ambassador.”
She grimaced. “Don’t flatter me too much in the report. My Father’s already trying to get me a post on Pandera.”
“Proves he knows your capabilities. But I’ll say I had to correct you on a few things,” Hawle added cheekily. “You couldn’t have done it without me.”
“Oh, torpedo my reputation,” she snipped back, trying not to laugh. “Honestly.”

Morning came and Hawle got himself back up onto the bridge. “Situation, Raven,” he asked his loyal Officer.
“Mican prisoner handed over,” the Burman replied. “Detective Bruton has headed down to the surface with Night seeing him off as expected.”
“Tears and a hankie,” Hawle asked.
“Nope. A sheath of instructions for diet and a hug. The Fallir’s called, asking when we’re ready to leave. Admiral Whitcombe’s called, asking when the Fallir’s leaving…”
“I don’t think Harper made a friend there…”
“...and Groal sent a message saying are we going back to Cora II anytime soon as he’s found a Celican willing to stand witness.”
Hawle brightened up. “Dawton, tell the Fallir and the Admiral we’re getting out of here within the hour. Chappers, set a course to Cora II via the asteroid field. Match… Get onto Galnet and find out the cheapest and best wedding tailors who can deliver to Cora II, would you?”
“Uh, right, sir,” The Raitchian said uncertainly as the two Humans carried out their orders.
“Always dress for a wedding, Sarina,” Hawle commented happily.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Probably best not to tick off Groal. I am sure that his meaty hands can do some damage. :D
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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53

DIVERSION

The Loper raced space, back the way she’d come a week past as she headed for an unbooked appointment with the USC Dunvant and the Savval some ten hours from now. Velocity 2 was serving them quite well right now, almost an enhanced cruising speed. Groal had requested time to run minor recalibrations and, frankly, there was no real need to push the engines right now so things were quite quiet on the bridge and Stikka and Match were playing Computer Chess on their monitors as Colleen and Hawle talked.
“Have you ever met this Captain Trenchart before,” The Ambassador asked carefully, making herself comfortable in Ravens’ seat.
“Not even once,” Hawle replied. “Although I fear I know all I need to know in the words that define the Dunvant.”
“What words?”
“Ship of the line.”
“Ah,” Colleen remarked knowingly. ‘Ship of the line’ was a term she’d heard once or twicein her life. It was an antiquated term from the times of sail but she knew enough to know it referred to a fully armed battleship designed for direct combat with the enemy. The best weapons and the toughest shields and armour were the norm for these ships so only the best Captains tended to command them. And the ‘best’ Captains never tended to get along with Commanders who wore ‘just a bit off’ uniforms and made jokes. “How are you planning on handling him?”
“Oh, I’ll just be myself,” Hawle replied. “I neither need nor want his approval. Science Captain Plebar of the Savval might be a better match though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She’s a Lappinean,” Hawle muttered. “Third cousin of mine, even.”
“Oh.” She ran the maths in her head. “So you’ve met her, like once?”
“Something like that,” the Commander admitted. “Lappineans don’t do family reunions. There’s no sports stadia big enough.”
“Sir,” Dawton reported. “I’m picking up a distress call.”
Hawle switched to ‘professional’ before he replied. “Let’s hear it.”

<”This is the freigh.. Myconna, o….. Pan..ra. We’re o. a trade run .. Mica..a and o.. Eng..es ..ve broken wi.. a fire in en..nee..ng. We ..quire a..istance.”> The message repeated.
“All stop,” Hawle ordered. “Match, find out about this Myconna. Make sure she is who she says she is. Chappers, plot a course to the point of origin. Dawton, contact the Fallir and tell them of the change in plans.”
He sat back as the others followed the instructions given. “We should respond, sir,” Match advised. “They’re a real, scheduled, freighter, carrying expensive agricultural gear according to the manifest from Pandera. The sort of thing Pirates are forever looking for?”
Hawle rolled his eyes. “They’d be just what I need. Right. Dawton, send them a message saying we’re coming. Patch in the Fallir to follow us. Chappers, making sure we don’t hit the Fallir when we turn – they are a bit close, aren’t they – put us on course at full speed. Time to intercept?”
“At full speed, Commander,” Sarah replied, starting the thruster manoeuvres, “thirty minutes.”
“Thank you. Ready weapons and shields. Stikka, White Queen’s Knight to F6. Match, put us to Yellow alert would you? Dawton, tell Hardy to get her pilots ready to fly.”
Again, they followed orders. Apart from Stikka who looked at him askew. “That would expose me to check, Captain,” he complained.
Hawle just smiled and tapped his temple. Stikka wondered if he was indicating he should think it through and proceeded to do so as Colleen leaned towards him. He leaned towards her so she could whisper. “Was that really a good strategy,” she asked quietly.
“In one route it leads to victory,” he replied in equal volume, “the other to quick defeat. I don’t want him thinking about the game if we’re in a fight.”
“Or are you just meddling?”
“Moi,” Hawle whispered, putting hand on heart, “meddlesome?”

Seven AM and Maze Hardy was up when the yellow alert went off. She’d acknowledged Dawton’s message, sent the ‘get out of bed you idle within the automobile’ message to her flight and quickly washed. A breakfast bar and a vitamin drink served as breakfast before the Raitchian test pilot dressed and headed out of her room towards the fighter bay. Deck Chief Jarra looked up as she entered and she called over to the old Ace. “Got my ship up and running, Chief?”
“She’s good as new,” the Canine replied, “Even repaired the cockpit. Found a use for the transparent Titanium we got a few months back.”
She whistled slightly and walked up to the cockpit and tapped the super thick glass canopy. The Lizzarnians who made it just called it Titanium to tell how strong the glass was. She supposed ‘Superstrong armoured glass’ wasn’t quite as saleable.
“Hit something in that and the glass’ll come out in one piece,” Jarra boasted. “Rest of the fighter’ll be flat, though!”
“She’s tougher than your old girl,” Hardy snipped, referring to the Starlancer Mk. IV they’d found last year. Jarra had been the only pilot capable of flying the ancient fighter so he’d been given it to use when it was needed. It was still parked down in the launch bays and Jarra had worked hard on keeping her running.
“It’s not the ship flying,” he said with some mock irritation as the system moved Hardy’s fighter to the standby position.
“It’s the pilot flying it,” Hardy grinned.
“First time I’ve ever found a fish in the cockpit. Think Felas ate the thing.”
“He would.” She turned as the door opened and her ‘staff’ came in. “But I hear Zowaix has it. Ah,” she said sharply. “Here you are! What kept you!”

“They should be on long range sensors, sir,” Chapston advised without being asked.
Hawle looked to her, then to Match. “Why is Sarah telling me,” he asked, “isn’t that your job?”
“I was just about to, Captain,” Match said, glowering at Sarah, who sent a ‘sorry’ message to his console. “The ship’s on viewer.”
Hawle turned around again to see the freighter on the screen. Hanging silently in space. “Looks peaceful,” Colleen said thoughtfully.
“Ye-es. Dawton, any reply to hails?”
“Not for the last few minutes, sir.”
Hawle tapped his comm. “Hawle to Groal. We need more from the engines. A hundred and fifteen percent, perhaps?”
<”I can give you one ten, sir,”> the Engineer replied. <”Wouldn’t advise more than that.”>

The ship stopped quickly, dampeners straining to stop people being thrown to the floor. Match confirmed atmosphere in the ship began scanning for lifesigns as Sarah relayed they were ten minutes ahead of the Fallir. Hawle hit his comm again. “Raven, get your team over there. See what you can see.”
<”Acknowledged.”> She replied.
“New contact,” Match called, a moment before a new ship appeared on the scene. A large, erratically shaped, craft bristling with mismatched armour and weaponry.
“Look at the size of that thing,” Stikka commented as Match confirmed it was around twice the size of the Loper.
“Yes, Stikka,” Hawle breathed, “it IS a big one...”
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Hope that they will be able to deal with this big one! Really great job again Welshy!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

It's actually a little tip of the hat to classic 'Doctor Who'. Patrick Troughton (the 2nd Doctor) and Frazer Hines (Jamie McCrimmon) offer used to try and insert harmless innuendos into their dialogue to lighten the mood. One they kept coming back to was Jamie commenting on the size of something and the Doctor responding sheepishly "yes, Jamie... that IS a big one, isn't it?'
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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54

GUNPOINT

Raven’s small team arrived in what was listed as the cargo hold, a fact further proved by the simple truth that she was standing next to a small baler. The air was cold and more than a little sterile for her taste and the lights were on low power. That, at least, didn’t bother her much as her feline eyes adjusted for the low level illumination to pick out walls and doors and the fact there weren’t enough farming machines in here to make any transit across half the patch viable. She detailed Chammy, from security, to check the doors whilst Goole, free from the confines of the science department for a half hour, checked on the life support with Januvitski the engineer. “So,” the Mican said, almost politely as he ran his scanner over the air, “care to put to bed half of the myths we have about Humans?”
“Like what,” Januvitski replied warily. “Most of it’s in the medical files and known to all the Doctors but I’m kind of getting used to people asking.”
“Well, Humans are the new guys in so many ways,” Goole admitted. “And only Doctors read medical files. Humans don’t cut their tails off in the days after birth? There’s no seasons when you ladies are more fertile than others? You can really tell each other apart just from fur colour?”
“And we have tolerance for maddening questions,” Januvitski grumbled. “Everyone asks how we tell each other apart. And you better believe we ask it of you lot at times. It’s much the same way. The differences in facial structures, the colour of eyes, the dental prints…”
“The scents…”
“You better not be saying I’m smelly, Squeaks.”
Goole looked affronted. “Oh, with language like THAT, I can tell you work with Celicans!”
“Why, what did I say?”
“Take it from me,” Goole said mischievously, “it was filthy(!)”
She laughed before Raven reminded them both the air was limited. Something had thunked out in space, sending vibrations that rocked the ship.

Hawle took to his seat again as Stikka kept his eye on the incoming ship. Chapston moved the Frigate between the freighter and the oncoming behemoth as Dawton kept scanning for any communication from the stricken ship. The moments ticked by as the two vessels moved closer together, both with shields up and weapons charged. “Send them a hail, Dawton,” Hawle ordered. “Tell them we’d want a word.”
“You don’t expect them to reply, do you,” Stikka asked. “Pirates don’t normally…”
“They’re answering the hail, sir,” Dawton interrupted.
“You jinxed it,” Hawle replied with a grin. “On screen,” he ordered, standing up.

The image of a wisened old Celican appeared on screen, his fur slightly matted and stringy, a scar cutting a jagged path along the right of his muzzle as he stood in front of the camera. <“I am Captain Savra of the Freighter Kerbal,”> he announced, <”responding to a distress call from this location.”>
“I’m Commander Hawle of the United Security Council Frigate Loper,” Hawle said pleasantly, thinking that was something of a whopper of a ship for a mere freighter, “responding to pretty much the same. We’d welcome any assist you can give but we currently have a team over there investigating the situation. Can you stay close, in case we need you?” Hawle waited until the Captain had approved before he cut the link. He sat again. “Freighter my fluffy butt,” he told Stikka, “that’s a pirate ship. No two ways about it.”
“Strange that he seems ready to talk, though,” Stikka observed.
“Too right. It troubles me.” Hawle gestured towards the ship on screen. “It proves he’s an off-the-books thinker. I haven’t got an advantage by going in for off the books planning here because he’s capable of it too. He also knows the Fallir’s incoming.” He huffed. “The odds are even, Stikka. They’re totally even.” He looked behind them. “I take it he’s scanning us, Match?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the Raitchian replied. “His scanners are quite good.”
“Return the favour with full strength please.”
“Aye.”


“Sorry,” Goole said as the team made their way through the ship. Raven had used the manual override to open the bay door to the interior of the craft. The support systems were still down and Raven was leading them carefully so as not to allow any of them to trip over anything in the half light.
“What for,” Januvitski asked, feeling it was her the Mican had been talking to.
“Impertinent questions. I, er, haven’t had much chance to talk to Humans…”
“I noted,” she replied.
“Talk later,” Raven growled, “work now. Any life signs yet, Goole?”
“None, Commander,” he replied automatically. “I’d have said if there were. Nothing’s showing on scanner… ”
“Then who was sending out that distress call?” She demanded before realising the little science Officer hadn’t finished.
“...Wait, nothing’s showing on the scanner. Not even us.”
Raven frowned and commed the Loper. <”Hawle here,”> the Commander said quickly. <”What’s the situation over there,”>
“Our scanners aren’t working and we can’t find the crew,” the Burman replied. “What’s happening outside?”
<”A Pirate’s showed up. He seems quite chatty.”>
“A new partner for you.”
<”Clam it, Moggy. I’ll have the teleporter chief keep a lock on you in case I want you back. Keep searching. You never know. Hawle out.”>

As the link cleared, Hawle asked Dawton to contact the pir… ah, he recalled, freighter again and he found himself face to face with the face of Savra. <”What can I do to assist, Commander? We’ll happily help them to Micanna if you’re busy.”>
Hawle chuckled. “I bet you will, you old rogue. Honestly, I have better things to do so, to cut the preamble and repartee, I intend to ask a simple question. Is this a trap?”
The Celican looked confused, his scar twitching as his eye ridges furrowed. <”I’m not clear on what yer implying,”> he warned. <”But I’m pretty sure I don’t appreciate it.”>
“You’re a pirate,” Hawle ventured, before putting a hand up to block any protest. “No, no, don’t deny it. I have no proof, of course and, as you say, all you’ve officially done is turn up here to - ahem – ‘assist’ – ahem – the stricken ship but I need to ask if you’re behind the lack of life signs aboard that ship.”
<”If we were a threat, Commander,”> Savra growled, <”you’d know it by now! I have no idea why there’s no-one alive over there except your… What?”>
He’d paused on seeing something change in Hawle’s face. The mouth hung open slightly. An ear drooped. “Captain,” he ordered, “back your ship away from the freighter. Now! Chappers, reverse course!” He hit the comm. “Hawle to Teleport room! Get the away team back!” Now he looked to the screen again. “It IS a trap,” he told the Canid, “it’s just not yours!”
Last edited by Welsh Halfwit on Tue Oct 19, 2021 1:23 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This chapter had a lot of really good twists and turns in it! Lovely work Welshy!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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55

THEY KEEP BLOWING UP RAVEN

Ravens’ squad moved patiently through the freighter, after her call to the Loper, checking rooms where they could open the doors for any life. Nothing, Raven noted. Absolutely nothing. “In fact,” she muttered to the others whilst intending it only for herself, “too much of nothing.”
Goole picked up on what she meant and swished his whiptail with nerves. “No signs of life,” he agreed, “nor that there’s ever been any life here.”
“Why,” Raven added, “does this begin to feel familiar?” She headed towards the bridge now, passing through the communal area.
“More like the Mary Celeste than a starship,” Januvitski noted.
“Who’s Marie,” Goole asked.
“Mary,” she corrected, “although millions have had it wrong.” She checked on the power console in the bridge as she explained. “Sailing ship on Earth’s oceans. Left the Americas for Europe in the 19th century. Found abandoned close to Europe a month later. Undamaged and, from the logs, it had travelled four hundred miles without any crew. From then to now there’s been no explanation.”
“Wonderful,” Goole remarked with moderate sarcasm. “A perfect time for ghost stories.”
With Chammy stood close by her, Raven ran her eye over the bridge and espied something attached to the helm, which doubled as the small ships’ communication panel. “Jan,” she said, having refused to wrap her tongue around the human’s full surname, “what does that look like to you?”
Januvitski moved over to the console. “It looks like…” Her tone changed, getting stronger with alertness. “It looks like a slave control, Commander. Probably controlled from the engine room and…”
“I KNEW this seemed fami…” Raven said as the teleport beam caught her and her words.

“...liar,” she finished as she arrived back on the Loper with Chammy as the teleport operator fussed over his console. “Get the others, Polder,” she ordered as she and the guard stepped off.
“I can’t, Commander,” Polder shot back quickly. “Something happened when teleporting you out. Some sort of surge. The system’s overloaded and it’ll take a few moments to…” But she was gone.

“I, um, think we’re being left here,” Goole said uncertainly as he conspicuously failed to teleport away. He wrung his hands together. “I hope nothing’s, um, wrong?”
“Well, they’re still locked on to us, Goo… What IS your first name?”
He took a breath. “Unused, usually. It’s Kevin.”
She raised an eyebrow as she headed down towards the engine room. “You’re kidding? Kevin?”
Goole tried to walk an inch taller than usual. “What’s wrong with Kevin? Air’s getting stale, isn’t it?”
Januvitski sniffed. “Running low. Probably best you don’t talk for a bit.” She smirked over her shoulder at him. He just about saw it.

Raven had run to the bridge rather than calling ahead so she could tell the Commander what had happened. “The teleport is broken,” she huffed. “Januvotsky and Goole are still over there.”
Hawle tutted. He knew that every second could count here but what to..?

“It’s locked,” Januvitski – who’d told Goole to call her ‘Jan’ as everyone else did – complained as they reached the Engineering block. “I’ll have to try the manual release.” She opened a hatch next to the door and pulled out a small handle she could pump to to create a little pressure and open the sealed section. Strained against the thinning air pressure as it exerted more effort on her muscles in the thinning atmosphere until the door cracked open and sucked the stale air in, thinning it even further as Goole added his strength to hers to open the door fully and step into the new room.
He wished Raven had still been with them. In fact he wished Raven had still been here instead of him as he looked at the bomb counting down in front of him. Of course, it didn’t actually have any screens indicating it WAS counting down but that was what bombs did, didn’t they? Ticked down and went ‘boom’?
“It’s linked in to the communications and life support panels,” Jan remarked casually, running her scanner over the console. “It’s set to detonate if we turn the life support on or scan… Ah, nuts.”
Five seconds later, the ship exploded.

Darkness, silence and tingling gave way to feelings of unreality and muted lighting and noises that definitely weren’t normal to his ears. There wasn’t usually this much shouting in heaven, was there? Or strange, slightly foul, smells? Or cursing? Goole opened his eyes to see a Feline dressed in what he could only describe as patchwork leathers cursing the terminal he was working at. He kicked it and jumped backwards slightly, declaring the thing fried as Januvitski stepped forward. “I don’t know where we are,” she professed, “but I am an engineer. I could have a look see if I can repair it?”
The individual looked at her with sharp eyes. “Where you are, Human,” he spat, “is the Kerbal. A place where Humans don’t bark!”
“I’m not barking, just offering a hand,” Jan replied with annoyance. “If you don’t want the help..?”
“I don’t NEED the help! You can’t do anything about an overload anyhow so you can stick that engineering superiority right up your…”
The door opened, the whine of gears obliterating his final word as a scarred Celican strode in. Goole couldn’t quite not notice the coiled whip on his belt and the pistol in his belt holster. And the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt so people could see his scarred and scorched muscles. “I see you have them, Icarra,” he snapped. “And they’re in good order. A state in which they’d better stay.” A hand moved subtlety towards the whip as the Feline looked somewhat abashed. He turned towards the Loper duo. “Your ship will be taking you from us in a few minutes,” he advised. “It is advisable that you remain here.”
“W...why are you doing this,” Goole asked, wondering if he’d actually spoken or said that in his head.
“It cost me nothing to do it,” the senior said simply, “and puts me in credit for when I need it. Your Captain didn’t need to warn me about the bomb but he did.” He glared at them. “Leave this room and I wouldn’t guarantee your safety.”
“We’ll stay here,” Januvitski said.
“Heard Humans were smarter than baseline animals,” Savra grunted as the teleport effect started up on the pair of them.

“We’re letting them go,” Raven asked as the Kerbal turned away from in front of them and the Fallir arrived behind them. “They ARE pirates. There’s probably warrants out on them.”
Hawle shook his head. “We have no way of proving he wasn’t here to help and he did, actually, help. Just ask Goole and Januvitski.” He smirked slightly as he hid his face behind steepled fingers. “Besides, if it spreads that Calavix are setting traps for boarding parties – such as sabotaging beam out systems and then blowing up the entire ship? I imagine there’ll be less piracy. And it’ll set them against Calavix. An ally we don’t want might just have left.” He sighed. “Now our people are back, tell Grovan what he missed, Raven. Then get us back on course.” He crossed his legs as the Burman gave the orders. Hawle looked to Stikka, the actual deputy on shift. “What? It’s only fair she does it. It’s the second time an automated ship’s blown up on her.”
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

Your sense of humor is what makes this story work so good.
Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But [The LORD] said, “Yes, you did laugh.” - Genesis 18:15 (NIV).
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Best not to have Raven around for a while then if she keeps on exploding. That could be a liability. :)
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Harry Johnathan wrote: Tue Oct 19, 2021 8:01 pm Your sense of humor is what makes this story work so good.
Much thanks. Hawle, as I've said before, is my answer to the 'stuffed shirt' type Captain. They run boring bridges and I'd find it hard to write those.
Amazee Dayzee wrote: Wed Oct 20, 2021 12:49 am Best not to have Raven around for a while then if she keeps on exploding. That could be a liability. :)
Well, it's not like she's the one doing it...

56

MEET THE CAPTAINS

The asteroid field was something of a familiar sight to Sarah now, having last seen it a week or so ago. She slowed to quarter power forward thrust and headed into it as Match kept a scan up for any unwanted visitors coming to check on the unwanted visitor that was already here, hanging loose at a sharp angle amidst the gaggle of rocks. Once past the outer layer, she adjusted course towards the larger ship of the three that lay in the middle of the web. Apart from the interloper, she could see the small, clipper sized, scientific ship Savval and the much larger, better armed, general battleship Dunvant. Its’ silver-grey surface reflected in the light from the Savval’s mining set up on the asteroid. They’d set up what looked unnervingly like a tent on the surface with floodlights set to light the area. The small set up was, Sarah knew, completely sealed for safety and an atmosphere was trapped under the established plates of metal. Still she thought she preferred this particular etal box to that one. But she wasn’t headed to that particular ship.

“It’s a standard thing,” Hawle said, adjusting his bandolier and making sure his tunic jacket was buttoned. “You meet the higher ranking Officer on their ship, thus acknowledging their authority.” He adjusted his boots to make sure they fitted correctly. “So, ready to travel, Colleen?”
The Ambassador nodded. “It might be good to see a Captain of real power,” she goaded before joining him in heading down towards the shuttle bay.
He took her arm and tapped the top of her muzzle with a finger. “Cheek,” he replied. “We’re rubbing off on you!”

She laughed as they entered the bay. Hawle opened the door and bowed to allow her access. “Ladies first,” he said gallantly.
“Thank you, good chauffeur.” She strode, imperially, past him onto the shuttle and took up a seat in the main area, buckling herself into position before Hawle boarded and made his way to the pilots’ cabin. “Why didn’t we teleport across,” Colleen asked sweetly.
“We have to meet at his place,” Hawle replied, doing the pre-flight checks, “but how I travel is MY choice.” He also didn’t really want to use the teleport system until it was fully checked, just in case. Calavix had shown ingenuity, affecting sensors and ensuring only two members of his team could be beamed back before the teleport system shut down. Part of the way of spreading fear was leaving people alive to spread the stories.

“As best we can figure,” Hawle said, sitting in Captain Trencharts’ conference room, “the system needed us to be receiving rather than transmitting to overload the system. According to the Teleport Controller anyhow. The same thing happened to the other ship when they helped out.”
“Ah, yes,” Trenchart said from behind steepled fingers, “the ‘freighter’ you mentioned.”
Hawle shrugged. “I know what she was. I also know what I could prove. And I know what these people are like.”
“You mean criminals?”
“Criminals with an odd sense of honour, sir. We had nothing to link them with piracy at the time but we had warned them of the device we suspected was on the ship. We also advised them of the trouble we had recovering our people.”
“Rather a risk,” Trenchart grumbled.
“Calculated, surely,” Colleen interjected. “Plus it was take the risk or lose two lives. Even if the *ahem* 'Freighter' Captain had taken them prisoner, they’d be alive.”
“Figures he wouldn’t though,” Trenchart huffed. “A word in the judges’ ear is valuable in a pirates’ life.” He sighed. “In normal space I’d say you should have waited for back up, Commander but, out here? Back up can be a long way away. I suppose I MIGHT have done what you did. Don’t mistake me for being happy about it, though.”
“I appreciate that, sir,” Hawle replied. He was a little surprised. He’d been anticipating having to defend his actions and berate this ‘upstart interloper’ in the patch but there was no need. He felt a little deflated at being denied the chance now. “Can I ask how things are going here?”
“No sign of your interlopers friends, Commander” Trenchart advised. “As for the scientific situation…” He gestured to the tanfur Lappinean sat diagonally opposite Hawle around the table.
Hawle inclined his head to his distant cousin and Hawthorne Plebar took up the baton of the meeting to tell, in her honey-sweet voice, how the mining operation was going and how many new elements they’d discovered and the quarantine protocols they were having to engage and Hawle got the depressing indication from Trenchart’s face that she’d been going on like this ever since they’d started.

After another ten minutes of Hawle wishing he’d not asked, the meeting proceeded to break up and Hawle found himself being able to give his cousin a polite kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Haven’t seen you in… how long’s it been, Hawthorne?”
She poked her tongue out and pretended to count mentally, over-ticking off her fingers. “Oh,” she said, after her second visit to the first hand, “about seven years, Aldair. You’ve done moderately well for yourself, I see?”
“None so bad, ‘Thorne. Not as good as you, mind,” he said, flicking the Captain’s epaulettes.
“Oh, you could have had these at any time in the last few years,” she admonished. “I’ve followed your career. Right up to running into your roadblock here. What happened? Half the family wants to know.”
“Including my half?” he sighed slightly. “I have all I need, ‘Thorne,” he admitted and Colleen, still watching, had the feeling they’d met more than once, as the Captain had claimed, over the years. “I have the ship I want and the crew I want…”
“And the lady?” She chuckled. “You KNOW my mother’ll ask so she can tell your Mother and spread it through the network. Come on,” she goaded, grinning as she poked his chest with an elbow,” tell me all about this politician the press say you’re dating…” She wiggled her ears at him.
He winced as the elbow came in a tad too stridently, then smiled. “If you’re angling for an invite, ‘Thorne, she’s not that far away. I suppose someone from the family should meet the Pekan love of my life sooner, rather than later.”
“You know your father would be appalled, right?”
“Hmm. One reason I had to get out of there. How’ve you been doing in that regard?”
“Oh, I’m marrying a surveyor on Caldera in a few months. Lappinean, of course. Dale, his name is.”
“Good for you. I suppose you cou…”
<”Match to Hawle,”> the Lieutenant’s voice came through.
Hawle tapped his comm. “Hawle here. What’s happening?”
<”We appear to have incoming, sir. From the probe’s direction.”>
“Notify the Dunvant Command Centre,” Hawle advised, before cutting the link. “We’ll head back via shuttle and you’d better get out of here, Hawtorne. These probe things take some stopping.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I know she isn't the one doing it but she should still get it looked at. It can't be good constantly exploding like that. =D

Anyway lovely chapter as always!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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57

PREPARATIONS

The three of them walked quite quickly through the passageways of the battleship to teleport room number two to get back to their own ships as rapidly as possible, deciding to get their shuttles back later – if there was a later. “So,” Hawthorne asked her relative, “if Captain Trenchart’s taking the negotiations, what are you going to do, Aldair?”
“Oh,” Hawle replied, hands in pockets, “generally look menacing and add firepower if needed. “Do us a favour and take that drone thing away with you when you leg it, ‘Thorne? Putting out the jamming signal as you go, of course.”
“Why so?”
“Because they’ll probably destroy the beacon as soon as they can,” Colleen ventured, “meaning we’d be facing whatever’s coming and the drone.” Hawle took a hand from the pocket and gestured to her to indicate he reckoned her to be correct. “But why does Trenchart get to take command when you’re the one with more experience..?”
“Trenchart’s a Captain, same as me,” Hawthore replied, looking slyly at Hawle. “We’re automatically more important than mere Commanders.”
“And yet they rely on Commanders to relay their instructions,” Hawle responded as they reached the desired room. He pulled Hawthorne up. “There is one other thing…” he started.

“She seems nice,” Colleen said coyly as they headed from the teleport room on the Loper to the bridge and Hawle wished they could have gone the direct route as she playfully nudged him.
“Yes, well, OK. I did make sure I kept up with Hawthorne,” he admitted. “They wanted a recommendation from a serving Officer when they brought her into the Council ranks. I was a full Lieutenant back then and staked my limited reputation on her.”
“And now she outranks you?”
“Is it too late to rule by fear, I ask myself,” Hawle grumbled as Colleen chuckled.

Hawle got to his seat and contacted the Fallir to update Grovan as Trenchart got on to Postlethwaite at Talvary and Hawthorne tractored the drone into a storage bay and started weaving her way through the rocks towards safety as Match’s console showed the incoming craft on long range, still outside visual range. Hawle closed the line to Grovan. “Chappers,” he said aloud, “plot a course to take us directly between the oncoming ships and this asteroid field as only a complete numpty would fight a battle in here. Dawton, contact the Dunvant for instructions on where he wants us to wait for the enemy. Let’s see if he’s a numpty,” he told Stikka.

“Sometimes,” Sikly told Katara as the two engineers made ready for whatever was coming, “this ship seems to run on ‘yellow alert’.” He snapped his kit shut and looked over the break table at the Celican.
“Like you run on the ceiling,” the Greyfur snapped back, a little irritation showing through her humour. Combat was coming and she figured she’d miss out on it, being inside the box. “Sorry,” she added, seeing the expression on his face. “I hate ship combat,” she qualified, “it’s so… impersonal. I just… Ooh. And we’ll have to patch things up if it goes badly.”
“Which we hope it won’t,” the Mican remarked quickly. “but we might get boarded. You never know.” He chuckled. “YOU might get lucky. If we get boarded I’M hiding in the maintenance shafts!”
“Good,” Katara ‘complained’, “one less person for me to worry about. Got a stun gun,” she asked.
Sikly patted his holster. “Put it on a while back. It’s locked to stun as, y’know, I’m barely trained on it.”

Groal finished his engine checks and assigned Polva to do the clean up of wires and dead chips so he could move onto the next task he’d set himself, monitoring the deuterium flow and assigning people to various department. “Jan,” he told the Human, “go join your fellow Humans up on the bridge. Anything blows up there, we can handle it from down here but not as easily. Seconds count in battle.”
“Aye, sir,” Jan said, heading out.
“Say ‘hi’ to Sarah when you’re up there,” Polva added, tipping the rubbish he’d picked up into a bin as she passed.
“Of course, Dalmar,” she replied, waving back at him as she ran. “If I get the chance,” she called back.
“Sarah will be OK,” Groal commented.
“With respect, sir,” Polva replied drily, “there’s no way to know that.”
“Yes, but I feel better for saying it. Getting us through combat is, actually, her job y’know?”
Polva wagged his Russelian tail. “Then we’ll be fine, sir,” he boasted. “No-one flies like my love.”

The spoken of Sarah felt the familiar butterflies growing in her stomach as things counted down. Dawton had relayed that Captain Trenchart had tried hailing the incoming ships to no reply and they’d just been able to get an image of the encroachers on the screens. The smooth, almost glossy, white vehicles gave little indication to their power and strengths. They were, being honest, as much of a mystery to the Council as they had been an hour ago. Sarah had pre-programmed the helm with as many of Hawles’ evasive manoeuvres as she could, including ‘Hawle 21’ which shifted the ship from port to starboard and back again whilst engaging lower thrusters to raise the ship, then upper thrusters to tilt it back down again whilst it continued forward. It tended to lead into ‘Hawle 22’ which always had to be entered manually as it was an attack vector and there was no way to pre set which side of the enemy you were going to end up on. If it wasn’t for inertia compensation systems, Polva and the other maintenance operators would be doing a lot of cleaning up afterwards. “I hate this bit,” she muttered.
“Same, Ensign,” Hawle commented. “Especially when I’m not doing the talking. I… Ow.”
Sarah looked around. Most of the others were grimacing, eyes shut and hands over their ears as the new human from engineering, Januvitski, arrived on the bridge. “What the..?”
“Can you hear that,” Januvitski remarked quickly. “That ‘ringing’ in the ears?”
“Yeah,” Sarah commented, now listening for it.
“Something’s scanning the ship on the edge of our hearing,” Dawton commented, flicking some switches and buttons to lessen the effect.
“Can I still hear,” Hawle asked aloud.
Sarah turned back to her console. “Polva’s asked me to marry him,” she said at normal volume.
“Heard that,” Stikka said.
“The incoming ships are hailing us,” Dawton said.
“Let Trenchart answer,” Hawle said dismissively.
“Uh, I mean they’re hailing US, Commander,” Dawton stated. “And they’re asking for YOU.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

You did a really good job with this chapter here again! Nice work!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Here we start something I often tend to do. I'm not a fan of writing battles so I take a few turns in getting around to it by 'slowing the pace' somewhat. A part takes place over a few minutes. And then someone ELSE'S part takes place over those few minutes. I find it helps build up the fight and the expectation.

58

TOWARDS THE EDGE

“Me,” Hawle asked, hand on heart and one ear crooked in confusion as he twisted in his chair and looked to Dawton. “We have to reorganise the bridge stations. They’re asking for me?”
Dawton nodded, having not worked out what the middle part of Hawle’s statement was about. “Yes, sir. By name.”
Hawle turned back around, looking towards the screen. He grimaced. “Great. I was hoping to get on with Trenchart… Raven, go comm Trenchart from my office. Dawton, link the Dunvant in on receive only. I don’t think they want to talk with him. Then put them on.” Hawle stood, perked his ear up and straightened out his uniform. He put his hands behind his back as Raven cut across him to get to the Office. “Right, then,” he swallowed. “Put me on, would you?”

A squat, blue skinned humanoid with green feline eyes and a number of thick, cable like, ‘hairs’ that were countable on two hands appeared on the screen in front of the ship. The translation matrix worked on translating what he said but Hawle noted how the lips – or whatever they called them – didn’t match. Well, they wouldn’t, would they? <”You are Captain Hawle,”> it asked. <”Of the Battlecruiser Loper?”>
“Someone’s been bigging me up,” Hawle muttered under his breath. “I am Commander Hawle of the Frigate Loper, yes. Who am I speaking to?”
<”I am First Conature Tankle of the Revidium Consortium. By our rights of salvage, we claim this asteroid belt and all that lies within it. Your ships must leave.”>
“We’ve never met the Revidium Consortium,” Hawle admitted, stepping around to take a pace to the left. “Just as I’m sure you only know of the United Security Council from the encounter between this ship and a probe last year. Your probe back then scanned our files and records.” He turned back to the screen. “You did look at the territory maps?”
<”We did,”> Tankle said heavily. <”We noted you have nothing in this space.”>
“it’s still our space, though. According to our laws. It’s a commerce and transit route between our colonies out here. If you want to talk mining rights, you’ll need to speak to the senior officer in this region of space and see if an arrangement can be made.”
<”Our laws require no such consultation. The only consideration is to be given to minimizing casualties on the opposition side.”>
“Not,” Hawle said patiently, “something that your drones seem to prioritise.” He cocked his head slightly. “You have to be aware that, as a matter of protocol, we cannot allow an incursion into our space without defending it? It sets an awful precedent.”
<”There’s no precedent here,”> he replied before cutting the link.
“That went well,” Hawle observed to Stikka. The Racon shrugged as Raven regained her bridge station. “Trenchart on his way,” he asked.
Raven nodded.
“I’ll be in my Office. You have the bridge. Ask Jaqui to escort the Captain up as soon as he’s aboard and tell Harper what’s been going on, yeah? Yellow alert, people.” He fished a mint from his armrest and unwrapped it before heading to his office, trying to ignore the yellow alert siren. As he went through the door, he popped the sweet in and dropped the wrapper into the bin. Or tried and missed. He picked it up again and put it in, meaning he just reached his desk as the door to the corridor booped.

“It’s not often I step into a lower ranking Officer’s command cabin,” Trenchart announced, twisting around to take in the entire office with its’ pair of pictures and small logo patch next to the replication machine and light layer of debris in the waste paper basket. “A very informal office.”
“I like it,” Hawle said, sitting down again after standing when the senior Officer entered the room. “The people here know I’m in charge. No need to flaunt it. Sir.”
“Good job you remembered the rank,” Trenchart declared. “Commander Raven says they probably asked for you because of your previous encounter,” he added, deciding not to take a seat yet.
“It’s quite possible,” Hawle replied. “Hope that didn’t offend you, Captain.”
Trenchart snorted a laugh. “You don’t care a whit if it offended me, Commander. It didn’t, by the way. What DID offend me somewhat is your not allowing me to talk to them.” The feline gave a malicious grin and wagged a finger. “You really should have referred them on to me, you know?”
“Believe it or not, I’d have preferred to. First contact isn’t exactly my speciality. That’s why I have an ambassador on board. I take it we’re not backing down, sir?”
“Indeed not, Commander. The message has gone out to Talvary station to send back up out. But we have no clue how fast it’ll get here or who they’ll send.”
Hawle demurred. “The Bellaphron’s still in service so that old-timer’ll come. The Rodomont’s refit should be just about done. And there’s a couple of patrol clippers within a day.” He straightened up in the chair. “Not that it’ll help much with them only being a few hours away. I just hope Hawthorne did as I suggested and put out a general distress call announcing our position here…”
“WHAT?” Trenchart exploded. “Why would you..?” His brain worked it out and he stared Hawle down – or tried to anyhow. “You want that pirate ship here, don’t you? Are you crazy? What would..?” He stopped, allowing Hawle to answer.
“I figure he’ll wait to engage the winner. But I think he may consider stepping in on the action. The possibility exists so should be acknowledged.” Hawle shrugged. “It may well come to nothing but you never know. That’s frontier diplomacy, Captain. More often than not you have to make deals today with those you’d have arrested yesterday and will be fighting tomorrow.”
“It’s an insane system, Commander. You have no right endangering this ship OR mine on a hunch!”
“Not a hunch. A necessary risk, sir. As for how wise it was, I suggest we leave that consideration until after the battle.” Hawle stood. “I am perfectly willing,” he said, “for you to be proven correct. But I prefer stacking the deck to a level playing surface. Even if that annoys my partner.”
The Feline nodded grimly. “Raising the stakes to give a better chance of victory. A dangerous tactic, Commander.”
“I fought the drone last year. I’ve seen how much it takes to stop one of those things. If these ships are made of the same stuff than upping might be the only way to win.”
To Hawle’s surprise, Trenchart chuckled. “Then may the best cheats win,” he said, extending a hand. Hawle took it. “And I’ll complain about you to Postlethwaite later,” the Feline added. “You DO live down to the reports. Battle stations, Commander,” he finished, before heading back to his ship.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Love the way this is going so far! Can't wait to see what is coming next!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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59

...2...1...

In the cool darkness, lit only by the yellow alert band and the light of the consoles, Harvey and Gilly worked, checking the computers were working correctly as they waited for whatever was going to happen next to actually happen next. “How does this help,” Gilly asked the young Jondahl.
“It never hurts to keep busy, Gilly,” Harvey replied. “Plus we’re keeping an eye on the systems, making sure no-one’s trying to cu…”
<”Hawle to Winsome,”> the wall comm said.
He slapped the button. “What’s up, boss,” he asked.
<”Be ready to implement program fourteen alpha delta as soon as possible.”>
Winsome shuddered slightly, an expression Gilly caught. “Fourteen, uh, alpha delta, Captain?” He swallowed. “Confirmed.” Hawle cut the link and he turned to Gilly. “That’s, uh, that’s bad news,” he told the Raitchian. As he typed, he started to tell her of the thing they’d encountered on the way back last year, making gestures as he revealed how HE’D been the one to solve the issues.
“My hero,” she said, leaning over to kiss him gently.
“Commander Hawle never thanked me like that,” he said dreamily as she released him.
Gilly shrugged. “His loss.”

“Program fourteen alpha delta,” Stikka queried.
“Something Harvey and I agreed he should start last year,” Hawle confessed. “Just in case. The blocking signal jams the drone’s receiver. I wanted him to see if he could send signals back along to the sending ship or complex. It was the sheer distance that rendered it irrelevant but, now, perhaps..?” Hawle sighed. “Provided he can get it running in time, of course. If it does work, Harv can claim credit.”
“Which you know he’ll give to you,” Raven added.
“I’m hoping having a girlfriend might discourage that,” Hawle remarked as the intruders drew ever closer.

Maze Hardy hardly needed to tell her flight what they needed to do. Apart from ‘stay out of the way of the fighters from the Dunvant and the Fallir’, it was much the same as the encounters of the last year. They’d planned and schooled for it. They were as ready as they could be, having trained against remote operated drones like hers and single pilot simulations in the hologram room, along with the occasional drill runs against each other to work out their skills and shortcomings. But, still, here came actual combat against a new enemy. Well, nearly entirely new anyhow. She hoped that, as the ships seemed to have a crew, they wouldn’t be as swift and sharp as their drone counterparts. Someone had claimed it couldn’t be as the changes in inertia would crush the occupants but she’d reminded them that, until they could confirm that would happen, they had to proceed on the assumption that it wouldn’t. “Anyhow,” she finished, “now’s not the time for talk. It’s time to go do our jobs. If you’re not out in the black in five minutes I’m fining you a weeks’ wages.” So saying, she legged it for her fighter, donning her helmet on the way so she wouldn’t have to fine herself.

“Maze Hardy requesting clearance to launch,” Dawton relayed to Hawle as the minutes ticked.
“Give her my blessing and tell her to do it anyhow,” Hawle replied.
“Shouldn’t we turn off the beacon,” Stikka asked. “If Winsome’s going to be sending messages on that frequency, I mean?”
“Nah,” Hawle drawled. “We do that and they might twig something’s up. Best we let them do it for us.”
“You think they will?”
“I’m certain they will. The beacon’s stopped one of those things dead. Right now, I’m only the second most irritating thing to them in this part of space.”
“That’s not a comfort,” Raven opined as Dawton reported Trenchart was calling both ships.
“Stick ‘em up on screen,” Hawle replied.

<”I think the enemy may make moves to jam our communications when they’re close in,”> the Feline reported, <”So best we mention things now. The Dunvant is roughly the equal of your two ships put together so, if communications do go down, the Loper and the Fallir should do their best to defend each other and concentrate your attacks. We’ll try to handle their starboard if you take the port. We’ve launched our fighters.”>
<”As have we,”> Grovan added.
“Ditto,” said Hawle, feeling acknowledgement was entirely redundant as the screens showed all the fighters out anyhow. “Shields and weapons are fully stocked and locked and we’re ready to defend some rocks.” Hawle grimaced inwardly at the unintended half-rhyme. “On principle,” he added.
<”Absolutely,”> Grovan added. <”After all, this time it’s a pile of rocks. Next time it could be an inhabited world.”>
<”Any other plans you failed to tell me about, Commander,”> Trenchart stated openly. <”Postain’s notes on you indicate you normally have two more on the go that you don’t declare and you’ve only told me of one.”>
Hawle shrugged. “Can’t be perfect every time, sir. And you wouldn’t expect me to tell you on an open channel, I think,” incongruously tapping the end of his nose with a single finger just the once.
<”Possibly not,”> Trenchart agreed. Well, battle positions.”> He cut the link. Then Grovan blinked off as well.
“The nose knows,” Raven pointed out.
“Absolutely,” Hawle replied. “One tap for yes. And that’s not in the handbook.”

The ship arrived.

The three receiving ships moved on target.

The fight began.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really excited to see how the battle scenes go! Keep up the good work!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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60

FIREFIGHT

“Bring us in on attack pattern Hawle 12, Chappers,” Hawle advised as his seat restraints snapped on around him. The ship shifted slightly to starboard and the top thruster fired to bank the ship slightly as they came towards the intruder.
“Shouldn’t we wait until they fire first,” Stikka asked.
“Several philosophers would argue that battle commenced with their first threat to us, Lieutenant,” Hawle reminded him. “And that they fired the first verbal shot. I say sod that. I recall the probe’s firepower and I’m not giving them any advantage! Open fire the second you detect them powering up weapons..”
“Sir,” Match warned, “we don’t know how they power their weapons…”
“Well, take a guess and fire then!”

Maze watched as her mother ship and the smaller Fallir moved on the attack ahead of the ships fighter wings. “OK,” she declared to her flight members, “our job’ll be to come in from behind and try to disable that things’ engines. I’ll co-ordinate with the Dunvant’s Wing Commander and the Fallir’s flight Leader for more specific instructions. Stand by to engage engines.” Her communication system sent out identifying signals to the ships that weren’t under her direct control and identified the fighters sending out a similar signal so two more names appeared on her helmet display. “Loper leader to Wing Dunvant and Fallir leader, checking lines are clear, over.”
<”Receiving you, Loper,”> Dunvant replied.
<”Comms active,”> Fallir added. <”What’s the plan of engagement?”>
<”Dunvant Beta will hang back to protect our rears and the command ships,”> Dunvant advised, speaking to his own ships as well as the two Flight leaders. <”We’ll carry out exploratory forays to test their shielding. Flight Fallir, test their starboard flank. Dunvant Alpha will take top. Loper, take the underside. We’ll meet at the backside and kick it.”>
“Understood, Wing,” Maze relayed the instructions to her flight and took them towards the underside of the ship.

The first shot slapped against the Lopers’ shields and shook the teeth of the bridge crew as main weapons responded in kind, the energy cannons rippling brightly through space like rainbow beams of death. Hawle wasn’t a fan of combat poetry so didn’t much like the effect as Match called out the shields were down by five percent. “How are theirs,” he asked.
“Unknown, sir,” the Raitchian replied. “I don’t know their systems that well.”
Hawle waved a hand to signal it didn’t much matter and opted to tell Chapston to adjust to Hawle 13 and the ship cartwheeled around a central point, still going forward but flipping over, making the intruder miss with its next shot as the Fallir took the lead for the moment. He couldn’t see the Dunvant from here but could see the energy from their cannons as the ship returned to what Hawle was considering the right way up for the moment and jolted as the shields were struck again by the foes starboard weapons systems. Match reported the shields had dropped another three percent. “C’mon, Harv,” Hawle muttered, referring to his Computer operative elsewhere in the ship. He watched the screen as the small fighting craft zipped into view, doing what they could to test the shields and take some of the incoming fire. The screen identified Hardy’s ship leading her ten fighters towards the underside of the craft. “Dawton,” he said simply, “send to Grovan that he may want to give more attention to the underside of that ship.”
“Ays, sir,” the Human replied, keeping his cool.

Jaqui had her staff ready to repel any assault on the ship but she had a moment to think up other tactics, which was why she was currently consulting with the teleport chief and the Munitions officer. “Would it be possible,” she said, tapping one of the rarely used torpedoes on the outer shell, “to teleport the warhead over to the attacking ship and detonate it?”
The munitions officer swallowed. “It’d be highly unethical,” she admitted, “and possibly illegal but…” She held on to a banister as the room shook under impact. “...I suppose it could be done. Um, I’d hate to take the thing through the ship in its’ naked state,” she admitted. “It’d be somewhat unstable.”
“I’d have to adjust my systems to accommodate the extra energy,” the teleport chief remarked, his tone indicating HE wasn’t exactly chuffed at the idea either.
“I’ll let you two brains work it out and tell the Captain it was your idea,” Jaqui grinned, slapping the munitions chief on the shoulder. She wouldn’t, of course, let them be blamed for it if it came to accusations but sometimes it was fun to let them think she might. She headed out as they commenced discussions.

Maze noticed the first two lights on her display dim and flicker out as two of her people left the fight forever, taking fire from the anti-fighter weaponry that bristled along the underside as she weaved through fire, running her weapons hot as they struck along the underside of the shield. Occasionally her pulses hit the surface of the ship as they passed through the shields at the same time as they dropped to allow outward fire. She couldn’t know it but her weapons had scorched tiny holes into the hull. She hit the emergency thrusters to change her aspect and shudder out of the firing line of one of the guns. It saved her life but ruined her attack run for several seconds until she realigned and swooped back to the attack as she neared the mid section of the ship, the Fallir’s flight becoming visible to one side as they engaged the side weapons. She didn’t know how the Dunvant’s fighters were getting on and it wasn’t the time to ask them as she ordered her wingman to break five degrees to port. He complied and the bolt of energy merely scarred the underside of his ship. <”I won’t be able to land,”> he reported.
“Just make sure you’re alive to bail out,” Maze told him sharply as one of the Fallir’s fighter’s scored a lucky hit on a turret, causing it to flash as it exploded.

Match also caught it and, being the science Officer, caught more than Maze had. He caught the blue tint to the explosion as it penetrated the hull. He knew that meant they may have a different atmosphere to the norm as that glowed yellow. Although, of course, that just meant it could have been an electrical fire. He just didn’t know.

The Loper moved to cover the Fallir from the main weapons and the entire ship rocked as the shields were hit dead on by the main weapons. Januvitski thought how, in films, this would be the time that consoles would have started exploding through being overcharged thanks to the damage inflicted. Mostly, these days, it just shorted them out and she had her first patient as a scanning console went down. She got to work, bringing it back to life in a matter of moments.

The fight continued.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Looking forward to the continuance of this battle! It is really good!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

61

OPERATIONS UNDER FIRE

The ship shook again, feeling the effect of incoming fire even down in the Engineering department. Groal held on to his console to prevent himself being thrown to the floor by the impact and he watched the readings on ship systems. He hit his comm. “Groal to Sickbay! You’ve got a conduit about to rupture in there! Get out!” He closed the link. “Katara,” he called, “get down there and patch that blow as best you can! We can’t have the Doctors out of play during an emergency!”
The Grey fur didn’t reply verbally but took to her toes to get there and help.

Three patients had to be moved and Bazil Fuze led the way in pushing the Canine on the diagnostic bed out into the hallway as his mentor Barleycorn helped her walking wounded out behind the nurses and their patient. The door hadn’t quite shut when the conduit blew, power arcing into the room with a spray of metals and plastics that impacted the wall and door and Bazil noted a chunk hit the wall a little way above his head before the door finished closing. “That was a bit close,” he said, looking at the jagged damage as it fell to the floor. “Almost took my…” He noted the red streak on the one edge and looked up to see the gash across Night’s temple.
“Not sure it… totally missed,” Night said as she sagged a little.
“Nurse Olva, get a chair from somewhere,” Bazil said, grabbing his medical kit and supporting his superior before she fell over. “I’d better get to work, out here, hadn’t I?”

When Katara reached the area, Bazil was continuing to apply his emergency antiseptic to the wound as he sought to stem the bleeding. He’d taken most of the debris out but, as Night already knew, he couldn’t make sure he’d got it all out without the imaging equipment in the medical bay. Which was currently out of action. “Suppression systems done their job,” Katara mentioned, checking the details on her pad and double checking by the wall terminal. “Let’s go and check the damage, shall we?” She opened the door carefully after making sure no power was coming through to the area as best she could under the enemy fire. “Suggest you take the wounded to the cargo bay, Doctor,” she advised. “Make that into a…” she strained as she forced the door open. “...Triage centre.”
“It’s an idea,” Fuze admitted, before sending a couple of nurses to start clearing things for them.
“I’m supposed to be in charge,” Night complained as Katara moved into the medical centre, still shrouded in mist from the fire suppression system.
“The patient doesn’t outrank the Doctor,” Fuze chided, tapping her muzzletop with the end of a medical probe.

This time Groal couldn’t keep his feet and Polva helped him back up so he could check the damage. “Hull breach on deck seven, section 14,” he read. “Crew quarters. Fortunately no-one’s home.”
“In the emergency shelter,” the Russellian asked.
“Or on station. Sikly, the lights have failed in the fighter bay. Get down there and put them back on again.”
“On it, chief.”
“Chief,” another called, “we’re having trouble keeping the power supply regular.”
Groal moved over to check his engines.

Ginny looked around as the ship shook, dislodging Harvey’s bed from the alcove above the door. The mattress flumped to the floor, distracting her and the new Raitchian glanced at the Squirrel as he looked intently at his screen. “Downside of living on a small warship,” Harvey told her without looking away from the screen. “Sometimes it goes to war.” Now he looked at her. “Best thing is just to do your work, sweetie,” he advised, putting a hand on hers. He smiled lightly at her before turning back to his screen. “I think I’m getting somewhere,” he added. “Keep the sniffers off my back, would you?”
Ginny swallowed her nerves. She knew he wanted her to assist, acting as a diversion to his main attack by distracting their security programs. She supposed she was good for that. It was often difficult for one computer attack program to defend itself as it attacked. Two of them was quite a good idea. She got to work again, coding as fast as she was able and barely keeping up with her sweet as he moved into their systems.

Hawle watched as the Fallir pulled in front of the Loper, cutting down the amount of the Frigate exposed to enemy cannon but, of course, restricting their fire. “Match,” he asked, “any idea how their shields are doing?”
Match looked up. “The energy feed to the shields is increasing, Commander,” he reported. “I believe that means they’re expending more energy in keeping them up.” He glanced back down as his console beeped. It looks like the Dunvant’s scored a direct hit, sir. Flank side. They’re venting atmosphere. Analysis shows… definitely not normal, sir.” he stopped again as new reports came in. “The Dunvant’s taken a direct hit on the bow. She’s losing power to starboard weapons.”
“Chapston,” Hawle ordered, “be ready to move us across to protect the Dunvant if needed. Our Shields are still at thirty percent, thanks to the Fallir. The Dunvant’s exposed.”
“Aye, Captain,” Sarah called back, shouting over another impact that knocked loudly as she played leap frog with the clipper ship and primary weapons fired A section of the viewscreen fizzled out as the external camera connected to it died.

Maze was one of the first to reach the rear of the ship and spun around, fighting the gravitational forces as she turned back towards the ballet of ships and lights that now lay ahead of her. A rear mounted weapon tried to get a lock on her but she watched the bright pulses of energy swish past her nosecone and she started firing on it as the rest of her fighters and the others joined in, trying to concentrate their fire on as small an area as possible. She looked up as her scanner systems showed another ship coming in. A large one.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This whole section is really amazing now! I honestly am in awe of your skills!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

62

SWITCH

The Captain leaned forward in his battered leather chair as he looked on the fight. “That bloody Rabbit,” he mused angrily. “He’s running a con on…” The ‘freighter’ Captain paused as he realised he didn’t recognise the silhouette of the fourth major ship in action. “What the seven hells are they fighting?” He turned sharply to his science operator. “Kurmac?”
“I…” The Feline with the chipped claws shrugged. “She doesn’t match anything on our list’s, Cap’n.”
“Then our lists need updating. Get visuals and what scans you can!” He turned around to face front again. “I want to know all there is we can about this new enemy.”
“How do we know it’s an enemy,” someone asked.
Savra fixed her with a withering glance. The Canine was a new recruit, transferring from a ship they’d raided a month or so back. “They’re ALL our enemy, Hasta,” he growled. “All of them. Just some we can work with. Kurmac,” he added, “what can you tell me about these rocks?”
“Nothing until I scan them, Captain.” He recoiled as Savra snapped his attention back around to him. “I’m scanning the, uh, mystery ship, Captain,” he added quickly.
The Captain looked at him for any signs of sarcasm but, after he passed inspection, nodded serenely.
“It looks like the two smaller Council ships are flip flopping and doing some damage on the starboard side, sir. The bigger ship’s doing the same on the port but it’s taken a whalloping itself.”
Savra considered it. “Move us to assist the destroyer,” he said.”
The helm officer spun to protest. “Sir,” he demanded. “The Council are the enemy! Why should we..?”
Savra could have answered as to how the Council were the enemy they knew, which was preferable to the enemy they didn’t. He could have answered have answered as to how that would get a better deal with the Council for future use. Instead he’d decided to step quickly across to the recalcitrant Celican and slam his face into the console hard enough to break one of his teeth out and leave him spitting blood. “How about because I ordered you to,” he demanded, keeping the younger Tod’s face flat against the console. “Or how about because I’ll break you if you don’t and do it myself? Do NOT challenge me here, Frax! Got that?”
“Aye… Aye, sir,” the chastened junior replied. Savra released his grip and he sullenly charted the course.
“Weapons ready,” Savra added. “Target the new guy and TRY to miss the Council.” He grumped to himself about how he hated giving that order.
His first leaned in. “You realise this won’t go down well at our Council,” the Celican commented.
“Now YOU question me,” Savra whispered urgently. “If the Council doesn’t understand the logic of assisting the enemy you know against those you don’t and muddying the waters then screw ‘em. And I’ll deal with it.”

Aboard the Loper, Januvitski was being pushed almost beyond her limits. Battle damage had taken down communications, damaged starboard weapons and affected the helm momentarily. She was prioritising repairs to essential systems but had had to call in assistance as everything was an essential system. Right now she was establishing a workaround to get some of the weapons systems back online as Katara, fresh from patching the medical station, stood by to take on whatever was next to be thrown at them. She could hear Match calling out from the rear of the bridge that he had a new contact on the system. She couldn’t see him from where she was so she didn’t see him look up when he said it was the pirate they’d met earlier.
“That’s ‘freighter,” Hawle corrected as the ship juddered and part of Januvitski’s work failed. She huffed and rerouted again to get the lower powered guns back. “If anyone asks, that is,” Hawle finished as he ordered Chapston into attack pattern Hawle nine. Whilst Katara worked on the Communications station he had it routed through his arm rest computer. He couldn’t do half the stuff Dawton could do on his console but, as he put it, at least he could ‘answer the phone’ when it rang. “Match, how’re we doing?”
“From what I can tell,” the Raitchian replied, “we’ve started to penetrate their shields but they appear to be sectional with several emitters working in an area. But we’re stretching them thin so power’s getting through. The *ahem* ‘freighter’ is moving to back up the Dunvant. Or shoot them, I can’t tell yet.”
“Very…” Hawle shuddered as something boomed overhead.
“Hull breach on deck one,” Match called quickly. “We’re venting atmosphere!”
“Seal it off and get emergency shields in place! Good job only idiots have their bridge next to the hull.”
“Bulkheads sealed and holding,” Stikka said, having carried out the operation. “Three people who were in the area lost.”
“Nuts. Weapons, target the weapons that did that and destroy them.”
“Aye.”

The teleport Chief wasn’t happy. Things were banging and crashing and shaking and rolling and there was an armoury Officer carrying out a delicate operation on an unstable torpedo warhead not ten foot from from him. He wanted to ask her if she’d be done soon but he couldn’t quite find the words and wondered how much protection his console would provide if the thing blew up. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough and jumped as she pulled at the top section of the weapon. The THUNK wasn’t a reassuring sound to his ears.
“Got it,” the Mephidan said happily, taking the section off and placing it on the floor.
“Is that… is that safe,” the teleport chief asked awkwardly.
She looked at him, her voluminous black and white tail twitching. “It’s not Nuclear, sweetie,” she claimed. “Just high-Ex. It’s not a danger until I fit the detonator,” she added, showing him the small box she was planning to attach. “And then we wait until their shields drop and you can get a lock on the inner workings.”
The Chief released a nervous laugh. “Why don’t we use more torpedoes?”
“’Cause they cost about a million five credits each,” she replied. “Energy beams are free.”
They waited for their moment.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Nice job with how everything is going! I just can't wait to see how it pans out!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

63

TIME TO BANG

The two of them worked quickly in the confines of the computer room, intent on winning the fight and trying to crack codes in an alphabet they’d never seen before. The automated translation systems worked to try and catch common digits and words to change things into Galactic standard. It seemed to be making progress but Harvey didn’t know how well it was doing. They were operating on familiar patterns and tracks and… “I think I have something,” Harvey said as the ship shook bodily. “I think I’m into the subroutines.”
“Any idea which ones,” Ginny asked curiously as the oblong, unspillable, mug she’d been using made its way off the table behind them and emptied the liquid inside over Harvey’s carpet. “Well,” she mentioned, looking at the mess, “that didn’t work…”
“I honestly can’t tell,” Harvey told her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, routing power away from places and to others.”
“Just don’t supercharge their weapons,” Ginny advised.
Harvey paused for a second. “Or perhaps I SHOULD…” He got to work again but pressed the wallcomm to contact the bridge. “Winsome to Match. You there?”
<”Match here, Harvey. What?”>
“I have access to some of their systems. If you can scan them, tell me what happens. I’m going to try diverting power. I don’t know where from or to.”
<”Ack...”> The ship shuddered. <”Got it.”> He kept the line open as Harvey worked. <”That’s put their shields up five percent.”> Harvey could hear Hawle using uncommanderly language in the background and he reversed the flow as fast as he could.
<”Their shields are failing,”> Match advised.
“They’re trying to reroute,” Harvey told the room.

They noticed in the teleport room. They noticed largely because the teleport operator could now ‘see’ into the interior of the enemy craft. He was quite happy about that as it indicated he could probably get rid of the munitions in his room and he advised the Munitions Chief.
She finished attaching the detonator to the bomb and joined him to look at the visuals he was looking at. “That looks good for a test,” she said, pointing at something that looked like a storage chamber. She flipped a test capsule into her hand and put it on the pad. “Let’s see if this gets reflected,” she said as the operator activated the device and the canister fizzled into nothing. “One,” she said, “two. Three… Right. They’ve not sent it back or reflected.” She swept to the warhead and picked it up with a grunt of effort. She took a few shaky steps as she cradled the weight and placed it on the machine. She tapped a few buttons and the timer started counting down from thirty. “Get it out of here, my friend,” she said, throwing herself off the platform.
“I’ve lost the lo… No, wait, I have it again! Energizing!”

Savra grinned maliciously as his cannons fired, spilling lives and hull pieces from this new enemy. He didn’t know why the things shields had fallen but he was quite happy to take advantage of it for as long as the situation required. The Dunvants’ working weapons joined in the broadside until the shields sparked back into whatever vestige of life they had left. The wily pirate had noted the heavy damage the Council ships had taken and figured he’d have a chance of taking whatever it was they were fighting over after this was… He blinked as a large chunk of the hull in front of him blew out from the inside, exposing half the guts of the ship. He leaned forward. “Target that and fire until our ‘friends’ ask us to stop!”

“What the heck was that,” Hawle asked, almost rhetorically as the ship powered down in front of them. He shook his head. “Hail them, Dawto… Still down? Right, I’ll do it.” He pulled up the arm rest console. “Loper to… whatever your name was. Surrender now and you won’t be destroyed.” He cut the line. “I’d better call Savra too,” he told himself. “Loper to Kerbal, can you stop killing them for a moment so they can surrender?”
A few seconds passed before the Celican replied. <”They have two minutes,”>
“You know we’ll have to fire on you if you try,” Hawle replied. “On the other hand, if we’re taking them back to Talvery for interrogation, we couldn’t stop you, say, getting a tow cable on one of those asteroids and leaving with all the minerals inside?”
“Trenchart’s going to hate that,” Raven opined.
“The Dunvant’s not in much of a state to argue,” Hawle said darkly.
“Got comms back,” Katara said as Dawton’s console lit up again. “Needs an overhaul later, mind.”
“Captain Trenchart’s calling,” Dawton added.
“Right. Raven, if Night and Bazil aren’t busy, get set to send them over to the Dunvant to assist. Match, see if you can figure out what caused that blast. Dawton, put ‘im on!”

Hawle stood as his two senior officers set about their tasks, Stikka taking over the direct bridge duties until the others were finished. Hawle tried not to look dishevelled as the Feline appeared on screen. He looked bashed and damaged, never mind his ship. <”Whatever that was,”> he said, <”It happened just in time. As did the arrival of the Pirate ship.”> At that, Hawle checked the sensors. It seemed Savra was, indeed, attaching a traction beam to one of the asteroids. <”Although we really should take him in, I think one danger at a time. My security Chief’s taking an armed team over to the intruder to seize it and, after we’ve done initial repairs, we’ll tow it to Talvery.”>
“I’ll send engineers and medical to assist you, sir. How bad is it?”
<”It’s not good, Commander,”> Trenchart confirmed, <”but we’ve had worse. I’ll tell my people to expect yours.”>
“Suggest you send the Fallir to try and catch the Savval,” Hawle mentioned “Then she can get back to her patrol.”
<”You’ll stay here until we go,”> Trenchart stated, rather than asking. The screen fizzled. Hawle hoped they’d get that camera back up and running again. There was a black spot in space at the moment.
“We have some initial repairs to get done,” he advised, “and you’ll have some of my officers so I can hardly leave, can I?”
Trenchart nodded serenely. <“Understood.”> The line cut off.

Hawle sat down again.
“Fuze and a nursing team’s going over,” Raven advised. “Barleycorn’s walking wounded so he’s not letting her leave the house. She’s doing what she can but we need some new medical bay consoles and walls. Groal’s sending Sikly and a few others to see what they can help with. One or two of the maintenance group are going to. Not Polva,” she said, directing the last at the obviously ‘not’ listening Human at the helm.
Stikka looked fidgety. He’d just taken a report from Jaqui. And he figured she was anticipating that he’d tell the Commander when she knew full well Raven wouldn’t. “Um,” he said uncertainly, “I don’t KNOW it’s got anything to do with the, uh, blast but I THINK Jaqui wants to tell you something, sir...”
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really got a chuckle out of the name of the chapter here. Anyway this is a really awesome addition!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

64

RESPONSIBILITY

Hawle walked, back and forth, in his office, walking tracks into the carpet as he waited for Jaqui to get up to his office. He fumed as he kept his hands clamped behind his back and his bandolier hung over the edge of his shoulder, kept in place solely by the arm being tight against it. He’d convinced Stikka to tell him, in brief, exactly what Jaqui had planned and carried out. He stepped behind his desk as the door to the corridor booped. “Open,” he commanded sharply and the door shisshed aside to reveal his fellow Lappinean waiting, looking slightly chagrined. “In,” he declared. She stepped in and the door closed. “I hear from Stikka that you have something to tell me,” he demanded angrily.
“I, er, think he’s already told you,” she asked awkwardly.
“I want to hear it from you, Jaqui.” He placed his hands flat on the table.
“I, er,” she started, “I had thoughts on how to deal with the situation in which we found ourselves and took it upon myself to defend this ship in the best way I knew…”
“Which happened to be a potentially disastrous manoeuvre that breaches half the laws of Military etiquette and conspiracy?”
“Conspiracy?”
Hawle glowered at her. “You deliberately failed to inform me of your plans, Jaqui, and engaged with other Officers on a plan of attack? Any part of that that DOESN’T sound like conspiracy to you?”
“I didn’t come to you because you were already involved in the fighting, sir, and…”
“Let’s not go further down that trail of bullshine, shall we,” Hawle told her darkly. “Suffice to say that I’d have to assume you didn’t inform me, even in an off the record manner, because you knew I wouldn’t approve of the plan to teleport a two tonne weapon of mass destruction into an unarmoured area. There is a difference between it striking the hull and the inside of a wall.”
“We didn’t breach any regulations that I know of…”
“Only because torpedoes are relatively new and they haven’t set any protocols yet.” he seethed. “You ran rings around me, Jaqui,” he added, pointing a finger. “A Captain is supposed to be responsible for everything that goes on aboard their ship. How do you think this makes me look? That I can’t control my own people?”
“I didn’t…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Jaqui,” he breathed. Closed his eyes. “I’m annoyed but… You consulted me on this, got it?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Sir?”
“The comeback is actually likely to be lesser if I was involved in the plan and it lands on my shoulders, not yours. If there is any. If a security Chief violates protocol by not informing the senior officers before she saves the ship it can do serious damage to their career. If a Captain does it to save their ship, it’ll do lesser damage to their career.”
“You… You can’t KNOW that, sir,” Jaqui said hopelessly.
Hawle humphed. “I absolutely don’t. But that’s the job of a family father, Jaqui. We take the lumps for the family. Set the report out in your log. That’s all.”
Jaqui looked confused. She’d expected something more than this. A reduction in rank, a fine. Something. But this..?
“You saved the ship and, possibly, two others,” Hawle explained, looking up at her. “What? You want me to make you pay back the cost of that missile? Get out of here!” He let her leave.

“How’s the ship,” Hardy asked Katara as the Greyfur helped her out of the advanced fighter as the deck crew gave her ship the once over.
“Banged up but no uglier than she was before, Ratty,” the Vixen snipped. “Only had the medical bay explode on me so there’s that. Got it back up and running. How’s your lot?””
Hardy grimaced as she hauled her helmet off and let the old frenemy see her face. “Lost four of them,” she said heavily. “Four more to drink to tonight.”
“Starwheel’s storage bay got voided,” Katara told her. “Along with half of deck one.”
Hardy looked at her in alarm. “The bridge,” she said in fear.
“...is still on deck three and five sections from the hull,” Katara finished quickly, sparing the Raitchian’s blushes as the other pilots could hear them. “Dunno how many dead here but we got some.”
“Ok,” Hardy said, slapping her removed gauntlets onto the table. “You lot go help out the recovery teams,” she told her pilots. “It’s a good job you did out there but we’ll have to wait until Cora II for the memorial drink. Get on with it,” she said resignedly. “You need a set of hands,” she asked Katara.
“No,” the Vixen replied. “But I can’t stop you following me.” She headed out to her next assignment.

“What are they going to do with the aliens,” Colleen asked Hawle as he oversaw repairs on the bridge.
“Not much of a clue,” he replied, nosing as the human engineer repaired a science console. “But Trenchart’s taking point so I’d imagine he’ll put the Captain in the brig, assign his first or second Officer to command the ship with a security team to protect them and he’ll tow the ship to Talvery or some nearby safe place. Then the politicians will need to get involved and it’ll all suck. Way of the worlds, Colleen, way of the worlds.”
“From your tone you’re not exactly happy about that, Aldair,” she ventured.
“No, I’m not, Colleen,” he granted. “In fact I’m really annoyed but there’s nothing can be done about it and I can’t tell you the reason why. One thought.”
“Yes?”
“If you want to bring up what I think Cedar wants you to talk with me about, now’s NOT the time. He OK, by the way?”
“Yes,” she said, a little taken aback by the fact he knew at least some of the matter. “He and I were in the secure zone with several of the scientists and the Starwheel bar staff.”
Again, Hawle humphed. “Good job THEY survived. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Rather dark humour for you,” Colleen noted.
“Could be I’m in a dark mood,” Hawle agreed. “But I’m not completely gone,” he added, indicating the main entryway, where Polva was just headed in. They watched as the Russelian crossed the floor and stood behind Sarah. “Oh, Chappers,” Hawle said, taking on a slight sing-song tone. “Someone to see you.”
He smiled slightly as she turned, stood up and embraced her boyfriend passionately. “See,” he said, “I’m still me.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Starting to get close to the end now! Really lovely work with this part of the story!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

65

CHECKING IN

Henry Postlethwaite thought he was getting too old for this as the signal came in from the Dunvant that they’d managed to subdue an assault from a vessel from a place that had launched the drone and were about to start back to Talvery station for repairs. The octogenarian Mican huffed his acceptance of the situation and passed on his condolences to Captain Trenchart over audio as, apparently, they’d had to scavenge some of the videolink wiring to keep main communications online and video wouldn’t be back up until a little later. He almost ventured the opinion that Commander Hawle could probably assist there but, if he knew that mad Rabbit, he was probably doing it already. Not that he’d take much credit for it. He rarely did take credit for altruism and helpfullness, preferring to pass it on to his subordinates. Mind you, he never logged much in the way of criticism of them either. He called it being even handed. He turned to the Rottian at his side. “Looks like you’re not needed, Marius,” he told Captain Postain. “We’ll have to wait until next week to get your paint scratched.”
“Serves me fine,” the Canine replied, arms crossed, “I need to break in my new second Officer anyhow.”
“Of course. How’s Xarra taking her promotion?”
“Like a trooper.”
“Good to know.”
The Rottian looked at him curiously. It was as though he wasn’t going to admit he’d read every report his fellow Mican had been sending him on the refit to the Rodomont. Sometimes he hated the way his C.O. tried to drag him into conversation. “You going to tell the Savval the news?”
“Oh,” Henry started, as though he’d forgotten the Science ship, “I suppose I better had, hadn’t I? And, if the Dunvant’s headed here, they’ll need to come back too.”

<”So you made it out of the burrow alive again, Aldair,”> Captain Plebar said from Hawle’s main screen. <”You have the luck of the Lockleys about you at times.”>
Hawle chuckled. “Agreed, Hawthorne, agreed. Oh, the ‘distress call’ worked perfectly, by the way.”
<”Pretty soon their lot are going to start distrusting distress calls.”>
“Which means they’ll be causing a lot less distress to those already in it,” Hawle replied. “That’s a win-win for everyone.”
<”You want us back with you?”>
“I’d love it but,” he added quickly, “I want that thing off your ship and into the intelligence services hands more. That means Talvery, ‘Thorne. You should head there and why am I giving you orders? You’re a Captain!” He waved a hand dismissively as she chuckled, an eight foot wide smile appearing and showing her front teeth in full glory.
<”I am indeed and I shall ignore your impertinence this once, Commander,”> she said regally. <”I shall proceed to active home base and debrief with sector command. Then,”> she added with malicious humour, <”I shall debrief WARREN ‘command’...”>
Hawle groaned as she closed the line. He sat back down as Stikka looked at him. “She talks to her mother – ‘Warren Command’ as in head of the household – who then talks to MY mother and basically gets me in trouble as she’ll start calling again, demanding to know why I’ve not told her any of the stuff I’ve gotten up to these last few years. Happens every time I get in the news. And, this time? She knows I know Hawthorne outranks me so THAT’LL come up too…”
Stikka considered and ran through the parameters to see if he was permitted to ask the question he wanted to ask. He kept coming back to the memory engram of an old British Sci-fi comedy where a killbot was assessing a freighter crew to see if they were Human and, therefore off his target list. The Felis – Not human. Viable. The android. Viable. The Hologram. Viable. The other. Barely Human. Up flashed the line ‘What the hell’. He figured that he was recalling it because this was close to viable so he should probably ask it. “Why did you leave,” he asked, a full two seconds after starting to wonder.
“I forget,” Hawle lied. “Probably wanting to work with other races. Dad never got on with Celicans.” He shrugged. “Probably because they ate some of his grandparents in the Prey wars.” He turned around. “Match, have we got our people back from the Dunvant yet?”
“Last ones coming onboard now, sir.”
“Right,” Hawle remarked to Stikka. “Talk to Groal and see what time he’d like to get back for his wedding, yes?”
“Doesn’t he have to arrange it first,” the Racon queried.
Hawle waved a hand. “It’s been two to three weeks since we left. Salla will have most of that in hand, or at least the preliminary preparations. It could be mere weeks before the day.”
“I’ll need a dress uniform,” Stikka complained.
“Match…”
“Looking up cheap outfitters who can get a dress uniform to Cora II now, sir,” the Raitchian said, wondering how he’d got lumbered with the job.

Harvey Winsome rolled over and fell out of the sofabed he’d been lying in. He woke with a start and wondered why he was on the floor and where he was and who was that laughing? He poked his head up and looked into the eyes of a pretty Raitchian that he wanted to kiss. Recalling what they’d done several hours ago – the shutting down of the enemy shields, he leaned over and did just that. Gilly, to her credit, did just that and invited him back into the bed they’d shared for the last few hours. They’d made sure all the important systems had been running and put out several electronic brushfires, working until they were both exhausted and, with the possibility of being called back into service at a moment’s notice, Harvey had offered his spare bed. He’d explained he was too knackered to put his normal bed back together so they’d have to share. She’d looked at him askew but had agreed. Now she pulled him back in – although he wasn’t really resisting – and held him in place with an arm until he shifted atop her. He leaned down and kissed her again.
“Next time,” Gilly said, “we should try it undressed?”
In response, he lowered himself into a cheek to cheek embrace as his tail drooped down, past his feet, and kissed her cheek tenderly before falling asleep again.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Welsh Halfwit
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

66

OFF THE HOOK?

Hawle sat in his office, on the comms to Talvery station and Henry Postlethwaite as the ship moved back towards Cora II for unscheduled repairs and rest. Hawle had sent in his report an hour ago, including the details of the torpedo trick and he was waiting for Postlethwaite to get to that. As for now he was finishing off the report on Micanna and Rayvon.
<”It’s a fair mess you cleaned up,”> Henry told him, the image slightly distorted by static. <”The Micannan capital attacked, a Rayvon minister compromised… in certain ways. An assassin uncaptured and then there’s the political mess regarding Raitchian intelligence. And, of course, your latest encounter with certain probe operators from beyond our stars, hmm?”> Henry looked up at him, over the top of the horn rim reading glasses he wore for effect. <”The tactic used to end the situation is certainly… unique, shall we say?”>
“And I take full responsibility for the plan that…” Hawle started up, feeling his stomach sink as he realised this was the moment of no return.
<”I’m sure you do,>” Henry commented quickly. <”Matter of fact,”> he continued, indicating a padd in his hand, <”I noted you do that in your report. And I noted your Security Chief, Transport Chief and Munitions Chief do so in THEIR reports too. If it were to be made public we’d probably have to try the lot of you. As it stands, though, who wants to set precedent?”> He tossed the padd away to prove a point. <”They’ll probably table the discussions soon. But name’s will be redacted. We’ll need to organise a team to get as much information as we can from these people so we can try and establish an actual, peaceful, first contact.”>
“Um, how are things going with the other talks,” Hawle ventured. “The Varkonians?”
<”I’ve heard nothing official,”> Henry ventured. <”Unofficially we’ve helped a dozen species new to us and learned a lot about their technology and ways. Some we’re helping to relocate to worlds that haven’t been colonised yet. The rest wanted to go home so we’ve set them off.”> Henry sagged slightly. <”I’m concerned about sending you and the Loper out on any more missions, Aldair,”> he admitted. <”You keep running into mayhem.”>
Hawle shrugged and almost managed a smile. “When you go where no Lappinean’s been before you’re bound to run into unexpected things,” he volunteered.

Groal looked out from the fifteenth broken wall panel he’d fixed today and complimented Katara on her work. “It’s not a bad patch job, this,” he said of the sick bay systems. “Should keep basic services up until we get back to Cora II and the repair shop there can supply us.”
The Greyfur looked over from the bed she was currently resting on and yawned. “They’ll deliver and I’ll install,” she told him.
He wagged a finger. “They’ll deliver and I’LL decide who installs,” he warned. “I know you want to see your repair through to the end. I know it’s pride in the work but I’ve got a team of engineers and specialists, Hanna. They need to pitch in. It helps to know others strengths.” He sat on the rooms’ second bed. “Speaking of,” he added.
Katara swung her feet off the bed and looked at him, curious as to where this was going.
“I’ve noted you tend to put in long hours and take as many shifts as you can, even swapping with others. You don’t take much personal time, Hanna.”
“Not really had much need for it, boss,” she told him frankly.
“Not looking for a mate or just hanging out with friends and colleagues?”
“Don’t say ‘hanging out’,” she retorted frankly, “you’re not a teenager, sir. I can’t say I’ve thought too much about the first since I got here and my friends and colleagues are work friends and colleagues. I see them when I’m at work, I don’t need to go to that many bars with them.”
Karlavan considered the two points she’d just made. “I’ll come back to the first point later. As for the second? I know you’ve been… is ‘passing time’ better?”
“Yes.”
“...Passing time with Januvitski and a few others on occasion so you can’t say that line with a straight face, Hanna…”
“Can if I want,” she grumped, not wanting to admit he might have a point.
“As for the first. Are there no Celicans on board who live up to your idea of perfection?” He grinned slightly. “Apart from me, of course.”
Despite herself, Katara half returned the grin. “Delusions of adequacy much, sir? Nah. There’s a good couple but, when I want a mate, they’ll know it all right. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
Groal shrugged. “Fair enough. But, as your senior, I DO get to decide your next assignment. I want you to check everything’s working in room forty-seven b on deck four. There’s eight hours set aside for it an I want you to take every minute, got it?”
Katara looked confused and blinked. “My quarters,” she asked.
Groal nodded and stood up. “Absolutely. There may be things needing fixing in there. R orders are to go inspect it. Fix whatever needs it and don’t leave that room for the next eight hours. Go to bed if you have to but I’ll be annoyed if you fail to follow my orders without a yellow alert for an excuse, got it?”
She snapped a salute that was only ruined by the tip of her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. “Gottit, sah!” She shuffled out of the room and headed for home base.
“I didn’t think I was going to like her,” he said, quietly, shaking his head. “And how’re you this evening,” he asked Barleycorn, still in her office.
“Hrm,” the Mican queried, looking around for who’d spoken. “Oh, getting better,” she confirmed, subconsciously raising a hand to the bare section of her scalp where the scar had set in. “Not perfect, of course, but still good enough for admin, unfortunately.”
Groal wandered over and took a closer peek at the jagged line Bazil had been forced to suture to seal up the wound. “He didn’t do a great job there,” he ventured.
“Fuze did well,” Night countered. “We don’t normally have to do spitball surgery in a hallway with whatever’s in the nearest medkit. And they usually have ‘resealers’. Fortunately the stores still had needle and thread.” She sighed. “Got another op to sort on Cora II so they can do a proper job and deal with any infections I might get from unsterile thread! He solved the immediate problem of me bleeding to death.”
“Good for him.”
“So,” Night said, deciding to change the subject, “when are you going to have Salla meet Hanna here?”
Groal groaned. “That’ll be like dancing on a spike strip,” he admitted.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Glad that you have gotten back to writing this! The whole thing is awesome as usual!
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