A LOPER TALE

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A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

(Elena parts by Amazee Dayzee)

PART ONE

DINNER DATE

Aldair Hawle stepped into the lobby of the restaurant and looked around. “Sakarsta”, from the Varkonian word for quality, was one of the up and coming restaurants on Cora II and combined the local delicacies, imported meats from other colonies and seeds the head chef had brought from his home world when he left to stay with his wife. The armoured not-a-Brockian had been kinda surprised when she’d asked him to come as they’d not been getting along brilliantly at the time but he had been getting a feeling that the Canid had developed a taste for his cooking, which could well be described as ‘fusion’ and she loved keeping garden so, despite everything, it had worked out here. She helped grow the produce in the colonists farm and he and his team made it into edible things. Elena Davees had helped get them set up, convincing the colony’s approvals team that it was right to allow the refugees some sort of business and, with talks going on between the Council and the Varkonian world – and others along the way – that having a restaurant that specialised in Varkonian dishes might just, um, influence diplomatic talks to take place there? The political spokeswoman had seen the creditmarks of understanding in their eyes and known she’d win. With the first growth of produce now sustainable into the next generations, the restaurant had opened three months back.

Aldair could see several local dignitaries and minor celebrities amongst the number eating as he made his way to the table set aside for him and his date. He was pretty much in ‘dress down’ attire of plain green shirt and black pants… trousers as Chapston insisted on calling them and he made sure there was nothing on him as he took a seat and waited, perusing a digital menu. He pressed the button for something called a Banana Daiquiri and added a pre-order for the Selvachian Salad, a partly Varkonian vegan dish. Finally, Elena arrived and apologised. Hawle said he’d only been there a short while as he stood up, walked around his drink and all it’s paraphernalia and held a chair out for her before giving her a polite kiss. “Long day,” he asked, moving back to his own chair and trying not to jab himself in the nose with a paper umbrella. “Much work going on,” he added.
“Oh you know it. Being a diplomat can be very tiring but in the end it is also very rewarding. I didn’t take the job because it was easy.” Elena said as she brushed her black hair out of her eyes and began to look at the menu. “So why don’t you tell me about what you have been up to.” Elena said as she looked up from her menu to make eye contact with the man she had been involved with. A man she was surprised she was attracted to. He wasn’t as serious as her ex was which was a plus. She rested her arms on the table as she continued to maintain eye contact with him. One of the other reasons why she liked dating him was because unlike many OTHERS including her ex, he didn’t tower over her. They were the same height. Elena smiled mischievously. “You fall into any desserts today?”
He smirked. “Nah, the sorbets have remained face free,” he commented. “although I did have thoughts about the Spiced Chocolate pudding at lunch. Probably wouldn’t have been polite, in front of the others aboard ship,” he added. “As for the last couple of weeks, love,” he mused. “it’s mostly been scanning asteroids and comets and extrapolating their paths to make sure they’re not likely to hit anything important. Had to blow a couple up but nothing serious.” One of his ears pricked up as he thought of something. “Oh, we did end a contract dispute between Aquanna and Mercia in the Aquannan tradition.” He paused for a second to remove an umbrella from his drink and close it politely. “Raven beat both their ambassadors in a surfing competition.” He took a sip. “Turns out she was an AquaCat competitor when she was younger.” He grinned. “Who knew?”
Elena nodded courteously as she watched Hawle drink his beverage before she started on drinking her own. “You tend to learn a lot about people over time and continue to discover new things. Nobody around is as they appear.” Elena said between sips of her beverage. “I mean nobody would ever guess by looking at you that you were a commander of a big ship. Admittedly I was one of those people.” she turned away slightly out of embarrassment. “Though you do look good in a dress uniform.” She turned back to him and smiled some more. “Don’t worry about the desserts though. If you can’t find anything I’m sure there is a mud puddle around here you can face plant into.” Elena giggled as she put her hands in Hawle’s lap.
Hawle caught his breath as he felt Elena’s hands landing on his lap and wondered how she planned on eating when her hands were occupied. He also, sometimes, wondered why she liked him caked in shortcrust pastry. But he didn’t mind. It made her smile so it made him smile. “How, um, how’s things gone with… Was it Challa? The, uh, Canine girl wanted a job on the local paper? Did she get it?” He wanted to ask more but, to his surprise, Govril, the Varkonian owner of the place came over.

The Chef stopped by the table and nodded to Elena. “Good evening, Councillor,” he said, his heavy set physique seemingly adding reverberance to his voice. He put his hands together. “So you know, whatever you want is on the house.” He indicated Aldair with what the Varkonian thought of as a knowing grin. “Him I’ll have to charge full price, of course.”
Hawle almost managed to look offended.
Elena smiled as she took her hands out of his lap and turned to Govril. “That will be lovely. What do you recommend?” she asked him and giggled at Hawle’s expression after being told he would have to pay him full price. “I have to make sure its not too expensive because I don’t want to make my date feel like he has to pay for an equally expensive dinner.” Elena sighed happily as she closed her eyes. “Though I would hope that there is nothing that I can do that would end up making him feel put out.” Elena admitted as she turned back to Hawle to see what he had to say. She wanted to ask about the specials but she didn’t know how much they would be. Truth be told she always worried about money and while it would be nice not to and order anything she didn’t think it would be fair to the man who had done so much for her. She gave a sly grin and put her hands back in his lap because she loved it when she saw him flustered. Truth be told that was why she liked seeing him covered in stuff. It made him flustered and a serious man like him being flustered was something she enjoyed seeing.
“It’s a council thing,” Aldair explained, “we’re not allowed to accept gifts above the smallest of values. Stops us taking advantage of the situation. I’m always tempted…”
“...and I never am,” Govril interrupted casually. “The Sacinnon Valkarra is particulary good this week,” he announced, referring to a Canine Sausage dish with mild Mican spices and Lappinean vegetables under a slight cheese sauce. It had been suggested to him by several of the canid in the camp and a Mican kitchen assistant had worked with him on the sauce. “With a Passionata frize for dessert? It is, after all, a dessert designed for two who are in love.” He nodded to Aldair. “As it would be free for you, Elena, he gets it for free too.” He grinned slightly as he raised his hands in ‘exasperation’. “What CAN I do?”
“Well, it’s not cheating the system if it’s legal,” Commander Hawle replied, trying to keep a straight face as Elena played under the table. He managed to put a hand on hers but made not attempt to stop her.
Elena nodded as she listened to Hawle offer up his explanation to her about why he couldn’t accept gifts. “I can see how that would work but you definitely do not see to be the type that would take advantage though.” Elena said with a coy smile thrown his way. She turned back to Govril and listened to what he had recommended. She nodded and paid attention the chef as he listed what the dish consisted of. It made her mouth water just thinking about it. Her eyes sparkled at hearing the dessert he was recommending also. “How can I say no to those dishes. They sound like perfection. Elena smiled one of her beautiful charming smiles. “Plus if he gets it for free because of me that will definitely be another bonus.” She chuckled at his grin he gave to play up his pretend exasperation. “There is nothing you can do about that.” Elena said returned to Hawle with a quick turn of her head. When he put his hand on hers she blushed a little bit.
Govril agreed, bowed politely, and turned back to see about sorting out the foods as an assistant appeared with breads and vegan butters.
Hawle, for his part, also knew a bit about flustering Elena and how to do it and he did it now as they waited for their foods. His free hand reached up to her muzzle and lined it up with his for a loving kiss that he held gently until (and beyond) her response.

Elena continued to blush until Hawle put his hand on her muzzle and moved it to his so that he could give her a passionate kiss. Elena smiled as the two of them ended up kissing and she tried to make it as long as possible. She just loved this man and there was nothing that would make her stop. She felt deep in her young Pekan bones that he was her soulmate. She didn't care that anybody was staring at them as to her, the only two people in the room at the moment were her loving Aldair and herself.

“So where after the meal,” Aldair asked.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I have enjoyed writing for Elena in this story myself. Plus it isn't just pastry that she enjoys seeing him covered in. XD
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

(A CHEAPER) DINNER DATE

Across the city lay a different class of restaurant that was getting used to a new class of regular. With the factories nearby serving the Lappinean colonies they now had a fair few Lappineans here and the Mican running the establishment back then had shut and re-opened as a Lappinean restaurant with a bare few meat dishes for the few regulars who’d stayed around. And he had a new ‘regular’ these days. At first the Celican had unnerved half the Lappinean diners but, after a while, he and the odd ‘family’ he tended to come with had managed to worm their way into the background noise and they were incoming now.

He’d often wondered what relation the Celican was as he couldn’t be the younger Lappinean girls father as she had canine elements, not Celican and he wasn’t her mate as the thin Mican who was obviously the cubs father and it was only on the third occasion, when he’d seen him kissing the older Lappinean, the, uh, nurse from the refugee’s complex, that he’d managed to put it all together. He wondered who was being more desperate and recalled the whole place had gone quiet at that action until the Celican and his older lady had laughed.

Groal opened the door and Rodin, the long-eared grey Mican child, ran in, trying to hop better than her whitefur Lappinean sister Marin who was more interested in sauntering in. She gave Groal a theatrical bow as thanks for opening the door and Groal smiled at the antics as Salla strode in behind them. The cubs ran up to the counter and, bouncily, ordered the sweetest things on the menu, only adding Kaltaburgers when their grandmother coughed to remind them they needed PROPER food too. The Lappinean grandmother was next in the queue, ordering s salad and, to the owner’s unsurprise, the Celican ordered a salad with meat bits. They took their seats and the cubs looked through their meal boxes for the toys.

“Here again, Karla,” Salla said, mock complaining as she stuck a fork into her salad.
Groal cast an eye over the older female he’d fallen in love with. If he hadn’t known her back then, when the Loper had rescued her and the others, he’d never have guessed she’d been held captive for so long. He’d watched her confidence grow in freedom and her physique gain in power under medication and decent meals. “Well, it seems to do good Lappinean food so…”
Salla laughed. “A Celican who thinks himself an expert guide on Lappinean foods!” She wiped a tear of amusement from her eye and sniffed. “Things do change, eh?”
Groal gave her the smile that had worried the other Lappineans the first few times they’d eaten here. “I have a good teacher,” he said happily.
“Must be why I love you,” Salla replied.
Rodin’s ears pricked up. “Mommy says it’s because he’s good in bed,” she related, grinning broadly as Groal coughed up half the food in his mouth.
“I’ll have to have a word with your mom,” Groal said, getting his breath back.
“Back to the subject,” Salla said, drinking from her mug. “Why always here? I mean,” she added, “I like it and the cubs enjoy it and I just answered the question, didn’t I?”
Groal shrugged. “I love ‘em,” he admitted, provoking Marin to simulate making herself gag. Groal put a hand across to meet Sallas. “Almost as much as I love YOU.” His other hand reached out to ruffle Rodin’s headfur. “Even if I AM a Smellican,” he joked as the cub laughed and batted his hand away.

Half an hour passed, filled with eating and the girls playing with their new toys, before Mercy and her Mican mate arrived to take the girls home and let the older pair have the evening out. Groal watched them go and sighed.
Salla looked up into his eyes. “You really do love them, don’t you?”
Smiling, Karla escorted her to the taxi he’d booked to he theatre. “I adore them,” he admitted. “Closest I’m going to get to my own, I sometimes think.”
“I’m sorry that…”
He stopped and kissed her. “I love you, Salla,” he assured her, “and that’s the total truth. There’s only one person in this entire universe I want to have children with and it’s you. The fact we can’t is a price worth paying to be with you.”
Looking troubled, Salla got into the taxi and waited for Groal to get in the other side.

Resting her head against his shoulder, the older Lappinean thought through her options and fears for the future, mingling with her hopes and desires as the car travelled. “I’d like your cubs and kits too,” she eventually told Groal.
He slipped an arm around her and squeezed slightly. “Shame it can’t happen, love,” he admitted.
She hummed. “So, back out on patrol tomorrow,” she asked.
He sighed again. “Putting out brushfires and the like, yeah. It’s a lot of busywork, even with the new ships in the patch.”
“The worlds are expanding. So are the troubles,” she added, not mentioning the Calavix thing he’d told her about by name. She could keep secrets and the truth of how close they’d been to disaster - and how close they could still be to it – wasn’t something she wanted to worry too many people with. Particularly with them having tried to hit President Dundee. She’d often wondered who’d stand for colony president if Chich retired. The vice president didn’t seem as well inclined towards them as she was. Perhaps Elena should stand? Would she be eligible? And, as the world’s expanded, so did knowledge and medical knowledge and…

They got out of the cab next to the theatre showing the play ‘Run for your wife’ and headed on in, Salla still thinking about things. Eventually, she got Karla into a quiet area of the bar. “Something you should know, love,” she said.
Groal looked apprehensive. “Oh?”
“Um… There’s a treatment,” Salla said hesitantly. “You, er, know we Rabbito… uh, Lappineans like a long, active, physical life?”
Groal took a second but managed to work out what she was talking about. Mostly. “Uh, yes,”
“Doctor Rubinec says there’s a treatment I can have,” she continued, talking of the Brockan Doctor who ran the medical centre where she worked. “It was created on Lapas and, well, it convinces the body that it can still bear children, even up to fifteen years after bearing age.” She almost managed to look him in the eye. It’s usually given to someone before they leave bearing age but it could work…”
Groal felt like his mind was swimming. “What are the dangers?”
“From the treatment? None. But, um, there would be the normal dangers with carrying at an age but…”
“This better be a good ‘but’, Salla.”
“...but those dangers are managed by good medical neonatal care and we have that right here. Look,” she stressed, “I never thought I’d ever meet someone other than my Simon who I’d want to have children with but now there’s you, my love. I want to do this with you, for you and by you. If you want.”
Karla stood up. “Come here,” he said, opening his arms. She stood and allowed herself to be pulled into a powerful hug as he kissed her neck tenderly. “I thought you said you were proud of never having a child out of matelock,” he asked coyly.
“Well, I…”
“If we do try this,” he added, kissing her lips, “I’d never ask you to break that run.”
This time it took her a few seconds to work out what he was saying and a few seconds more for her to reply. “Do you know any Celicans willing to stand at your side,” she asked.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Figured that he wouldn't be willing to splurge on money for this date. But will this be the end for Salla and Groal?
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Doubt it. She did just accept his proposal.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

ON BOARD

Lieutenant Stikka appeared to be watching Cora II on the viewer as he sat in the command chair aboard the Lopers’ bridge on the last hour of his duty shift. In reality he was, actually, just half watching the scene as his right eye, equipped with a ‘playback’ facility, showed him what he’d recorded off the vid last night. It was footage that might make a Lappinean blush in a show that he reckoned Celicans would like for the clothing the red suited Humans were almost wearing as they ran along the beach towards where the latest barely clad Human who couldn’t swim was in trouble. He wondered if one of the females had taken surgery to implant buoyancy aids under her chest and if that dedication had been why she was hired. It certainly wasn’t because she could act.

The sound dialled down as someone spoke to him and he recognised Sarah’s voice even as the name popped up on the screen and he paused the playback to answer her, welcoming her to her duty shift before she appeared in front of him. “Much ‘appening, sir,” the Ensign asked as she headed to her seat at the helm, taking over from the Lappinean on station, who yawned and clearly wanted his breakfast. Stikka had once downloaded a medical scanner from the Galnet (after making sure it was bug free) and had deleted it from memory after it diagnosed that Lappinean with an inoperable ear tumour that Barleycorn had confirmed he didn’t have and couldn’t get as he wasn’t a Raitchian. She’d told him to leave the medical scanning to her and, if he HAD to do it, don’t go for the free versions.
He shook his head to bring himself back to the moment. “Nothing much, Ensign,” he told her. “We’ll be ready to go in a couple of hours.” There was something he was sure he should be bringing up. What was it? He checked his conversation files with Sarah, logged under ‘Chappers’. Oh, yes, her boyfriend was under the weather. “How’s Polva,” he asked, following on a bare second after his first comment. Chapston inclined her head at him in the way Canines did when thinking about the possibility of smiling and he wondered if she was picking up some of Polva’s mannerisms.
“Better, thank you sir,” the Human replied. “Looks like it was a forty-eight hour bug. He’ll be back on maintenance tomorrow.”
Stikka nodded. “Good to know. He’s a nice guy.”
Now she smiled a smile that he’d seen in thousands of films and vidshows – and some graphic novels he recalled reading in younger days – and he knew the backstory behind her reply of “yes, he is, sir.” What with her, Groal and the Captain this was becoming more like the Love Boat than a warship. And he’d only seen one episode of that before wiping the rest from memory. Sometimes he regretted allowing part of his brain to be turned into a computer but he’d started having fun with it now he was here. The Racon had almost thought about quitting the service as he’d been told he’d never make it pat Ensign with that implant and it had been a last throw of the dice to apply for the Patch as they just might take him out here. And Hawle, apparently, had put him straight to the top of his list to replace Grovan. He didn’t know why. He’d never asked and Hawle would never tell. He figured he’d proven an asset, though, doing nothing to help them get any information on Raitchian stealth tech if anyone ever asked (and had fake memories ready for install if needed) and he was getting used to the sense of humour on the bridge as he raised his hand and intercepted the wad of paper that was coming towards the back of his head. “Did the girl get the job, sir,” he asked Hawle as the Lappinean practically skipped around to his chair. He’d wondered about the little Chian girl, Challa, since Hawle had thoughtfully volunteered him for her practice interview and he’d talked to her for several hours on various topics about his work and hopes and other things that were slightly probing. He’d given her a few hints on how to write it up too and knew she’d have a chance when the editor called to ask him if there was any truth to the rumour he’d violated Health and safety protocols by going up on the stadium roof during the athletics tournament.
“Take a look,” Hawle replied, indicating the paper as he sat down. “Personal copy, by the way,” he finished.
Stikka unfurled the newspaper, still printed on paper for the refugees, some of which didn’t have personal computer systems yet, and looked at the front page where a splash headline said that a ‘Handsome Racon’ was the greatest 2nd Officer in the Universe and was responsible for a future award winner. He smirked. “I’d expected some muck raking,” he offered.
“That’s in tomorrows,” Hawle advised, crossing his legs. “Colleen on board yet?”

‘When did this happen’, Colleen Una wondered as she sat in her small living room, her travel case by her feet, where it had been for the last twenty minutes. She’d been back on Cana for the last three weeks, whilst the Loper was scanning rocks and such. She’d been to parties and discussed topics with her family. She’d fended off certain topics her mother kept trying to introduce by telling her she was looking to establish herself by her own efforts first – that last bit aimed at dad – before she moved onto any of that sort of task. It’d come. Probably. She’d seen old friends and family but… when had this little apartment become home? It had been lurking at the back of her mind all the time she’d been in the manor. Her little place. Her rooms with her friends. The couple of film nights with Sarah, Polva and the others. The hours spent just talking with Cedar and Raven… well, working out with the Burman anyhow. The big Feline wasn’t one for chat like Cedar. HE was getting quite good at tennis, too. The gang here had managed to adopt her without even knowing they’d done it. They weren’t her class but they didn’t give a stuff about that and, although she had, she found that she didn’t care for that now either.

But she had work to do. This time the ship wasn’t just doing menial work. She had to see if she could resolve a dispute between colonies that had cropped up out of nowhere. Raitchians and Micans arguing over new transport routes and trades. It had blown up over nothing a few weeks back, it seemed. Someone had alleged the Raitchians had tricked the Micans and they’d had proof to back it up. Proof which had then vanished along with the person doing the accusing. The Raitchians were, of course, protesting their innocence as both the innocent and the guilty would do. She started reading and stopped as her door booped. “Open,” she told the door opening system.
It opened to reveal Cedar Kirkwall, the chef standing with his hands behind his back. “Heard you were back,” he said chirpily.
She rose to hug her best friend. He hugged back. “Good to see you, Cedar,” she said. “Missed ya?”
“Betting you missed my breakfasts more,” he said, stepping back to pull a small trolley in. “Centarkan Waffles,” he announced as she gasped theatrically, “with a Bolvar Honey compote.”
“Well, OK,” she admitted, taking up the fork, “I missed these too!” And she started wolfing it down.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Whoops. I must have not paid attention enough to the previous chapter. Though to be fair I was in and out of consciousness as I was a bit sleepy. But hey, they are gonna get married! Plus they seem so happy together! Maybe Hawle can fall into their cake. :lol:
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

COUNTDOWN TO THE OFF


Jaqui Pangal walked into sickbay and waited on Doctor Night Barleycorn or Doctor Fuze. Either would do for the Lappinean security chief as it was just a catch up on the medical supplies situation she was after. It was the same with every patrol tour, checking the numbers to make sure everything was fully stocked. She’d taken herself to the theatre last night to watch the refugees put on a performance. Should she be calling them new colonists now? She didn’t know. Someone would tell her, sooner or later. She’d noted Groal and Salla in the crowd last night with the Commander and Miss Davees up in one of the smaller boxes. They’d not seen her, of course. She’d slipped into the growing number of Lappineans going out and about on Cora II these days. The place was booming exponentially The Lappinean government were quite happy with the situation as Micans were, usually, close allies of theirs on the Council and they trusted the President to represent all her constituents, not just the Micans. Jaqui knew Chichester was already making plans beyond that that would enable Lappineans to stand for the colony council, giving them a little political say before they decided to agitate for it. The establishment of a Council base was taking a little longer but was progressing, bringing yet more cash in and putting further strain on the electrics. But it was working. Soon they’d have their own space station. Probably.

“Can I help you, Chief,” the young Raitchian Doctor asked, cleaning his hands with a towel as he stepped in and tossed the towel into a bin.
“Just after the standard check ups, Bazil,” she replied before nodding to the towel. “Back at work on that old clunker, eh?”
Fuze tutted and pointed a naturally black furred hand as he tacked onto the computer, leaving a tiny oil stain on the keys. “My dad’s first car was a Vontrak Skreeler,” he told her. “I grew up in one of those.”
“HALF grew up,” Pangal corrected. “You’re still a kid.”
“I’m nineteen and a prodigy,” Fuze protested, pulling up the medical stocks log before trying to clean off the oil tarred keys with a tissue.
“If you were an adult,” Pangal teased, “Night would have you for staining her keyboard with oil. Then you’d never get to drive that rust bucket.”
Fuze huffed. “I’ll have it running one day. In my dreams. OK, shall we run through?”

Commander Hawle had waited on the bridge until Raven arrived to relieve Stikka before telling the Burman to run a population check to make sure everyone was on board who should be and no-one was on board who shouldn’t be. “The first I can do,” she remarked, “but how do I do a headcount on heads that shouldn’t be here?”
“You ask security to run a stowaways check and collect all the heads they find,” Hawle replied.
“Sounds messy,” Raven said, grimacing as she carried out the first order. She’d tell Pangal to run the final stowaways check on the understanding that Pangal was already having it done anyway and would appreciate the reminder like a Grandma being taught how to suck eggs by a Kitten. “Have a good night, last night,” she asked absently whilst waiting for the secion heads to reply.
“Not so bad,” Hawle replied lightly, using the sort of tone that indicated to Raven exactly how last night had ended up. Light dessert in the face and rampant passion in the bed. “How did yours go?”
“Oh,” she replied, “just an evening in the local bars, arm-wrestling the locals.”
Hawle’s ears pricked up at that. “They still let you take part in… Right, right. Who’s going to stop you? Win much?”
“Enough to pay for the beers. Got beaten by Rovan,” she admitted, referring to one of the Fallir’s captured crew. “He made a packet.”
“Uh, huh.” Hawle looked at his second in command with a crafty look on his face. “Raven, when’s he transferring it? Your share, I mean?”
She had the humour to look aggrieved. “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” she claimed.
“Captain means you’ve never lost a single match t’im before,” Chapston contributed, not turning to look at them, “despite his physique. Yet y’lose to ‘im in a cash game the first time he enters?”
Hawle gestured to Sarah as though she’d said exactly what he was going to then took the newspaper Stikka had left behind, walked up behind her and batted her with it for earwigging. “She’s right, though,” he conceded.
Raven sat back and put her hands behind her head. “I set ‘em up, he won the pot.” She smirked. “There’s no point gambling if you know who’s going to win.”
“And you’ll get better odds next time,” Hawle reminded her as he sat back down. Sarah sorted out her hair.
“There is that. What time are we for the off,” Raven asked, nodding towards the planet on the screen. “It’s a pretty planet but I do like to stretch my pads. What’re we doing this time anyhow?”
Hawle checked his comm and put Stikka’s rumpled paper back down. “About half an hour,” he told her. “Scientific stuff on some asteroids to do, a couple of colonies have called for arbitration on trade troubles… It was all in the mission briefing…” Hawle trailed off. “Which you didn’t read as you were in a bar. Honestly, Sarina, it’s lucky for you we’re friends or I’d be putting you forward for Postains’ First Officer.”
Her ears flattened on top of her head as her teeth bared slightly and her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t…”
“Nope. Like I say, we’re friends. I wouldn’t want to see you arrested for having a punch up with your Captain.”
“Good.” She gave him the reports that he’d asked for and Hawle looked towards Chapston before crossing his fingers.
“Here’s hoping for a quiet tour,” he said, loudly enough for her to hear clearly.
The Human put her hands behind her head and face-desked her console.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really wish that the dessert scene could have been done out though. Those are always my favorite. Great job!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

5

OOH, LOOK! ROCKS!

The count-down to departure ticked closer, levering it’s way down to two minutes as Raven and Hawle watched from the bridge. The last checks were being done and Dawton was ready to contact Cora II’s control centre but, for the next couple of minutes there was little to do except watch the screen with the freighters taking off and landing from the starport. “Do you remember when this was just a backwater colony planet, sir,” Raven asked Hawle absently.
Hawle sat with his arms on the armrests and his legs crossed. “Can’t say I do, Sarina,” he replied. “Back then we rarely had a need to come here. Which is part of how the troubles of last year started.”
“Oh,” she replied, slightly mocking him, “so THAT’S why we keep coming back here, is it? To make sure they’re not trying to build naughty things to attack us?” She took a mouthful of coffee.
“Well, that’s one of Postlethwaites’ little tricks. And there’s nothing to the theory that it’s something to do with Postain’s ‘building up’ of relations with the Colony President.” He paused as Raven spat out her coffee. “I meant in setting up the Council base and being the liaison between them…” He waited until she’d dabbed down her chest and taken another sip. “...of course, he’s pretty hands on at times,” he added, making Raven cough on her coffee again.
“You,” she coughed twice, “are evil, sir.”
“Oh, I know,” he replied with a grin., running his hands along his armrests. “Dawton,” he said, “make the call.”

“Aye, sir,” Dawton replied, connecting to Space Control. “Loper to Cora II control, request permission to depart, over.”
<”Confirmed, Loper,”> the control operative commented, <”you’re cleared to depart on course Alpha three. Happy trails and see you next time, David.”> The line cut off and silence fell on the bridge. It sounded particularly loud to the Human.
“Ensign Chapston,” Hawle ordered, “take us out on Alpha three.”
“Aye, sir,” Dawton heard her reply and felt the ship move on its orbital clearance route, avoiding satellites and militia ships as…
“Dawton,” Hawle asked, snapping him out of distracting thoughts and making him turn to face the bridge, half of whom were looking at him. “Since when are you ‘David’ to control?”
Dawton tried an embarrassed grin, which faltered under the raised eye ridge of the Lappinean seemingly boring into his brain. “It’s… It’s just a couple of Coffee meetings,” he explained hopefully.
Hawle shrugged. “Keep it up, ‘David’,” he said, turning back towards the screen, that now showed Cora II’s moon, “see if you can get us better departure slots.”

Groal looked down the list of new engineers on board and wondered if any of them would do. The usual changeover of a few people had happened during the last twenty-four hours, dropping off half a dozen crew on Cora II and taking a few off the colony. Transfers and a couple of Fallir members who’d decided they’d had enough of colony life and wanted to check out the spaceways again. They had a Human, an Osiran, a Mican and a Celican… Vixen. Drat it. He needed a Tod. Perhaps the general maintenance crew had one? Generally Celicans’ looked down their noses at him, with his habit of wearing bright, floral, shirts and slightly oily shampoo. He might even end up having to ask his brother. If there was no-one else. At least all the newcomers had been thoroughly vetted by security and intelligence and gawd knows how many others. Now, where to use them?
“Where’dyou want me today, boss,” the Vixen asked. She was a grey fur wearing a shirt and short combination. She gave him a small sneer as she said the word ‘boss’ but he let it drop. At least it proved he wasn’t attractive to her.
“There’s work needs doing in the flight bay,” he stated. “One of the lateral regulators is glitching. Sort that out and stay on station an hour to make sure it works, Katara. Never know when we’ll need to launch fighters and it’s best they’re not gravitationally attached to a bulkhead. Take…” He consulted the list and chose the Human. “Take Januvit… Janivit…”
“Januvitski,” the female human chipped in. “Martina Januvitski.”
Groal shrugged. “I’ll call you ‘Jan’ for short. You two get gone. Katara’s in charge.”
The Vixen nodded, seemingly a little surprised to be given the lead, then led her companion off.
“Wouldn’t an experienced Engineer have been better,” Sikly asked, the Mican deputy Chief looking down from underneath the wall console he’d been working on. He used his suction boots to turn around and walk down the wall.
“They’re going to be in a room with Hardy and the Deck Chief,” Groal replied as Sikly got close to the floor, released the suction on one of his boots and swung the leg down to the floor before disengaging the other boot. “You’re going to do yourself damage with those one of these days,” he added.
“Meh,” Sikly replied, “haven’t yet. And I see what you mean. Too many chiefs and all that.”

Raven looked out at the first stop of their tour. This was some way off the usual transit and trade routes and had only been discovered a few months back by a Celican ship that had been forced off course by a fire in their navigation computer. When they’d found this stable asteroid field in the middle of nowhere they’d had little chance to investigate with defective sensors so they’d done the next best thing. They’d logged it with the Council on Talvary so they could send out a survey ship to look for precious metals and minerals and they’d take fifteen percent of any financial benefits for doing nothing. Raven knew full well that they only reported it to the Council because the central world governments would feign disinterest, not pay them and then go and take a look, annoying the other worlds. The Council was the better option for money. She got distracted by a call from Hawle.

He was looking at the armrest that didn’t have the computer console in it. It DID, apparently, have something else in it. “Raven,” He asked, “how long has my arm rest had a stock of sweets in it?” He pulled out a black and white striped candy.
Raven shrugged. “When did the chair have an upgrade?”
“Three months ago… Never mind.” He unwrapped the sweet and put it on the scanner. “Anything being picked up on sensors, Match,” Hawle asked the Raitchian.
Match twitched his whiskers. “It’s an Everton mint, Capt… Oh, you mean the rubble. Looks like it was a planetoid several thousand years ago. An orphan type, due to the lack of sun. Might have been quite nice in summer.”
“I mean, is there anything worth our time out here?”
Match chuckled silently for a second. “Good news and bad news,” he confessed, “we’re picking up Iron, Palladium, Korderium and about a dozen other things in sizeable amounts, sir. But we’d probably need a core sample to know for sure.”
“Agreed,” Hawle replied, deciding to eat the sweet. “Suit up, get down to the shuttle bay and get Hardy to get you out there with the drill rig.” Hawle pointed a finger until Match realised the Commander meant him. “Wait a minute,” Hawle added, pausing the Science Officer’s flight. “You said ‘good news and bad news’?” Hawle breathed out. “What’s the bad news?”
“There’s signs of an anti-matter trail leading away from here, sir. We’re not the first people to be here in recent days.”
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Oh I wonder what is going to happen with the upgraded chair then? This looks like it could be interesting! :mrgreen:
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Six

POPPING OUT

Lieutenant Match checked his seals and stepped into the shuttle bay to pick up his ride. He could see the corer being loaded into the shuttle but where was his pi..? Ah, there she was, over there shouting at some engineers. He walked over to them in his heavy suit and tried to hear what they were talking about.
“Look,” Hardy called, “I have to launch in two minutes so I need things working!”
“I told you,” the Grey Celican retorted, “the thing’s not been tested yet! If it malfunctions when the bay depressurises you’re going to be a smudge on the wall.”
“If it does that,” Hardy retorted, “it’ll prove you’re useless as an engineer…”
“I take it there’s some sort of delay,” Match said, deciding to interrupt before someone punched someone.
“The lateral compensator has been glitching,” Katara growled. “If it glitches during take off…”
“We’ll hit the wall at a rate of knots.” Match nodded. “I see the problem. Trouble is we have to get out there in the next few minutes.” He shrugged. “Timetables.”
The Celican turned her anger towards him. “That’ll come in handy when planning your funeral… sir,”
“We have to go,” Match said, trying to calm the situation, “and you’re right. How do we minimize the risk?”
The Celican closed her eyes and took a breath. “Minimise take off distance,” she said.
“Have the shuttle already moving when the force fields are switched off,” the Human commented.
Katara nodded. “Less time compensating for decompression, less time to fail.” She looked over at Hardy. “You a good enough pilot for that? It’d need timing to the second.”
“I can do it,” Hardy stated, unwilling to back down in the fight. “So long as you do your job.”
“Come on, Flight leader,” Match said, heading for the shuttle. She scowled at the Engineer and headed after Match.
“Don’t think you’ve made a friend there,” Janavitski told Katara.
“Wasn’t trying, Jan,” the Vixen replied, checking the panel she’d been working on. It all SEEMED back in working order…
“That nickname’s here to stay,” the Human muttered. She shrugged. She was used to it. “Hadn’t we better get into the control bay?”
The Celican closed the panel. “Beats exploding in the vacuum,” she agreed.

Match decided to leave Hardy alone in the shuttle. She had some minor piloting to do and he got the feeling she was upset with him for not being totally on her side in the argument. They only had a limited window to check the rocks but he had understood the engineers’ thoughts as well. Ordinarily they’d have run tests with the shuttles all locked down before turning the power off. He strapped himself in and sat down as Maze Hardy put her helmet on to swear in private and he was sure he caught the last of it as he put his own helmet on and the comms linked to the shuttle system. Match watched as she started up exit procedures, dropping the exit hatch so only the energy bulkhead held the atmosphere in place. As the atmosphere thinned, the shuttle picked up power with the anti-gravity engines picking them up off the floor. She counted down from ten and took off for the exit bulkhead on two. On one she signalled for the field to fall and the bay was fully exposed to space. The pull to the left was notable but not unstoppable on the hull and Match’s teeth and the shuttle snuck through the aperture and towards the belt.

“She’s gonna be on the comm about that,” Katara grumbled, watching from the observation bay.
“We tried telling her we’d barely started but she just wouldn’t listen,” ‘Jan’ replied. “She can’t say we didn’t.”
“Of course she can, Jan,” Katara snipped as the monitors showed the atmosphere was back to normal. She grabbed her toolkit and headed for the door. “Come on,” she grouched, “we’ve got work to do before her nibbles gets back!”

The shuttle swung by, closer than Hardy might have wanted and she had to bring it under control immediately they left the bay as gravity realigned and knocked her sideways. “Flamin’ useless engineer,” she exclaimed into her helmet. “And you were no real help… sir,” she added, letting Match know he was being talked to.
<”Engineers like to do their work before anyone tests it,”> Match said in her ears. <”Question is, if they knew the system was bugged, why would command tell us to launch from the bay?”>
Maze had to admit the bridge officer had something of a point.

Groal, for his part, had his head in his hands. He’d had so many things to think about – Engineer allotments, maintenance schedules, wedding troubles and so on – that he’d forgotten to press the button telling the bridge that the shuttle bay was out of commission for the next hour or so. And now they’d launched and almost crashed the shuttle. His fault. He was going to have to own it. He stepped from engineering and made his way up to the bridge.
Hawle looked at him from the chair in his office. He’d agreed to meet the Celican Engineer in here to keep the issue between themselves as much as possible but this was… This was… “You forgot,” Hawle accused. “You FORGOT to send up a notification that you were going to be working on the shuttle bay? That’s… That’s not like you, Karlavan. What’s going on? What… were you thinking?”
Groal composed himself. “It’s, uh, personal issues, sir. They won’t get in the way again, I promise.”
“No,” Hawle agreed, “they won’t. Because you’re going to tell me about them now.” He pointed a furry finger. “And THAT’S an order.”
“It’s… it’s Salla, sir,” Groal grimaced. “She’s getting married.”
Hawle decompressed slightly. “Oh,” he said, getting the wrong end of the thrown stick. “Sorry, Karlavan. Who to?”
Groal looked a touch confused until he mentally replayed his words in his head and enlightenment brightened his eyes. “Oh! No, sir, I should have said WE’RE getting married! Because, uh, Salla wants us to be married before we have a cub.”
Hawle’s face had changed from sorrow to happiness with the first sentence and to stark incomprehension with the second. “You’re going to be a father too! But… isn’t Salla too, um… She’s heard of the new treatments, hasn’t she?” Groal nodded. “Explains why your brain’s in a whirl.” He pointed again, remembered he wasn’t holding anything and pulled a carrot stick from his drawer so he could point that. “But you only get to be confused in your OWN time, Karla,” he said sternly, “when you’re on duty I want all your intelligence and effort being here with your body, clear?” Groal nodded. “Good! Screw it up again and I’ll bust you to personal waste control operative!”

As Groal sloped off back to work, Hawle stepped back onto the bridge. “Tell you later,” he told Raven as he sat back down. “Update,” he asked.
“Hardy and Match have landed on one of the rocks,” Raven replied, “and begun digging. I’m more worried about that power trail Match found.”
“Why so?”
Raven pulled up a small sector map on her arm rest. “We’re quite close to ‘the edge’ here, sir,” she reported, meaning the end of known space, “and the direction of this energy trail is from outside the edge.”
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Lovely work once again! I'm just glad I get to see Hawle more! He is the best!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Seven

CANTEEN BREAK

With Raven watching over the mining pair from the bridge, Hawle found he had the time to grab some lunch so had deigned to head down to Cedar’s kitchen. He liked to tell himself that he still used the replication machines and had their economically caloried facsimiles almost as often as he used to but, in truth, he tended to have most lunches in the restaurant these days and at least two dinners a week. He still did the normal amount of exercise to work them off in the gym, of course. On the subconscious level he figured he deserved the odd treat.

A little to his surprise, Lieutenant Stikka was there when he arrived, contemplating what looked like a Chocolate Torpedo from the pastry set as Hawle stepped up to the serving desk, watching someone walk off with something that looked like a Sausage in batter.
“What would you like, Commander,” Kirkwall asked, clapping his hands together to get the Captain’s attention.
“What… is all this, Cedar,” Hawle asked, gesturing to the various foodstuffs the others had on their plates. Some things he thought he recognised but others…
“Oh,” Cedar said happily, “I’m having a Human foods day.” he put his hands on the counter. “I have to stock the foods and a fair amount goes to waste so I’m starting weekly ‘days’ where I only do dishes from one planet. Human foods seemed a good place to start as they seem to do all types of foods. That,” he said, pointing to Stikka, “is a dessert called a ‘Chocolate Eclair. Chocolate top, Choux pastry body and full of cream, like a Canid Cavanni cake.” He shrugged. “But they rarely try them! The Sausage in batter thing is known as ‘Toad-in-the-hole’ for some reason.” Hawle grimaced and poked his tongue out. “Relax, sir,” the Chef continued, “I’m told no amphibians are harmed in the making of such products. They kill Pigs for it.” He shook his head. “But! There’s also a massive amount of vegan foods too! What’s your preference?”
Hawle thought that his preference would be to head out and go to a machine but he had to admit he appreciated the idea and should show willing but… There was a vast array… “You have my list of allergies on your computer?”
Kirkwall nodded and pulled a Beetroot and Lentil Tabbouleh from under the counter and put it on the top before grinning slightly. “I do and I figured you were going to ask me to surprise you, sir.”
“Right,” Hawle said carefully, before taking it across to the table where Stikka was now contemplating half a dessert. “This seat free,” he asked.
“Absolutely, sir,” Stikka replied, sitting up and putting the cake down. “Glad to, uh, have you.”
“Say that in public,” Hawle warned, “and people will take it the wrong way.” He grinned slightly as he sat.
Stikka ran it through his mind and chuckled. “Only the filthy minded. What’s that,” he asked, indicating the Commander’s food.
“Not got a clue. He probably wants me to ask him what it’s called if I like it.”
Stikka furrowed his brow. “Why?”
Hawle spread his hands. “Because that’ll tell him I like it. Unless my line after is ‘throw it in the fire’. He poked at some with a fork, stabbing some small lumps. “What did he force you into? Just that Claire thing?”
“Nah. I’m a Racon. We can eat anything. Something called a Chicken Ticket Marsalla Bit spicy but seemed fine. This is better, though,” he said, hoisting the cake up. “How’s things going out there, sir?”
“Match and Hardy are drilling away and Dawton and Raven are looking into other things,” Hawle advised. “Someone from outside the Council borders has popped over and had a sniff around them. So we need to secure the claim… IF it’s worth securing. Zowaix’s waiting for the samples.”
“So no-one wanted him then?”
“So he says. But I happen to know… this isn’t terrible, by the way… that he never actually applied for anywhere. I think he likes us. Not that he’d say it.”
Stikka thought about something as he chewed the last piece of his cake. “Can I..?”
“Because I value independent thinkers who take risks, Within limits,” Hawle interrupted, not looking up from his food.
“Huh?”
“You were going to ask why I decided to take you on. I’ve seen you, desperate to ask but never quite managing. You don’t think the same way as everyone else, Manny. To many in the service that’s a bad thing. Opens us up for insubordination and you going off and doing your own thing on a daily basis. Most Commanders appreciate those who tow the line or, at least, stay close to it. They like those who think life's like walking a giant equals sign. Gives you a bit of room to move but only between two straight bars. I much rather an officer who understands there’s a line and that they shouldn’t go too far from it but aren’t constrained by it. In private, if I’m being an idiot they should feel able to say I’m wrong and try to tell me why. If I’m being dim, tell me why. If I’m going on too long, tell me…”
“You’re going on too long,” Stikka said. He noted Hawle staring at him. “Sir,” he added.
“Good job you stopped me,” Hawle told him, forking another mouthful in. “wuld’ve gone on f’r ages.” He swallowed.
Stikka smirked. “I wasn’t going to ask that anyhow, sir.” He indicated the Commanders’ lunch. “Was going to ask if I can try some. Eat anything, us Racons.”

Match looked down as the corer finished its’ work and extracted a long tube of material for him to place in the shuttle. The machine was still picking up the elements it had previously noted but there seemed to be something else here now. Something it couldn’t quite identify and Match put in a call. “Match to Loper,” he said, allowing the comms in the helmet to activate.
<”Loper here,”> Ravens’ voice said after a moment. <”Go ahead, Match.”>
“You’ll need Zowaix to set up the quarantine Lab, Commander,” the Raitchian advised. “This sample’s got unknown elements in it.”
<”Can it be teleported?”>
“I’d say not. So some sort of containment vessel about five foot in length and one in diameter would be smart. There should be one in stores.”

“I’ll get the Professor to look,” Raven said before cutting the link. She was about to call the science department when Dawton caught her attention. “Yeah?”
“I, er, tracked the line of that power signature, Commander,” the Human said, grimacing slightly. “Bearing in mind we don’t know if they came on a straight line or if they made any course changes… The line leads directly to the system we thought that probe came from last year?”
Raven looked confused. “Probe? What..?” Realisation crossed her face as Dawton spoke again, using words she’d decided she hated.
“This is ours,” he said.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

What a well-written chapter! I can't wait until Hawle interacts with Raven. ;)
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Eight

OLD FRIENDS

Commander Hawle stood, waiting, as Professor Zowaix started his analysis of the sample, the irritable Brockian glancing at him from time to time as though to check whether he was still there. His Mican assistant, Goole brought in something that looked like water but probably wasn’t and set it down next to an analysis machine. Zowaix looked at him and then ignored him. “I can send the results up to you as soon as I have them, Commander,” he said, the tone indicating his irritation.
“I’m fine,” Hawle replied. “We’ve concerns that drone thing may have located these rocks so we need to know if we should stake a claim faster than we’d planned.”
Zowaix put his hands on the table. “If you need the information faster rather than wronger, sir, then leave me to it! Your presence is distracting me!”
Hawle did his best impression of looking offended at the scientists’ back as Goole mouthed an apology. “Well, pardon me for breathing.”
“You’re pardoned… sir.”
“It’s a good job you remembered the ‘sir’ or I’d take it as insubordination.”
Zowaix huffed and slumped his shoulders slightly. “I apologise… for myself, Goole, never do that for me again. I shouldn’t have used that tone on you. I’ll have results soon.”
Slightly mollified, Hawle left the room.

“O.K.,” Maze Hardy said to Katara as the Celican finished up the work in the bay, “I can accept you had a lot of pressure on and you did a good job on fixing the trouble with the compensator so we didn’t go spectacularly sideways into the bulkhead when we landed…”
“Thank you for noticing,” the Greyfur interrupted.
“...but I still have to report you for some of the language you used in the argument.” She shrugged. “I’ll make it clear that it wasn’t your fault and everything…”
Katara’s ears flattened to the top of her head. “It wasn’t,” she snarled. “Most of it came from you to start with! Coming in here, making demands and citing your rank as reason why things that shouldn’t happen were going to…”
“I was under orders!”
“So were we,” Katara spat, indicating Jan, who’d been doing her best to look like a piece of furniture.
“Orders that I knew nothing about, as I said!” Hardy met the Celican’s gaze and they both held it for a few seconds, mentally counting down until… “******* Groal,” was said simultaneously and the pair burst into laughter. “You’ve gotten worse since college, Kat,” Maze laughed.
“I have not,” the Celican huffed. “You’ve gotten easier to rile!” She gestured for the Human to come over. “This spacenik jock was in my year at basics on Persimma,”
“Oh,” Januvitski said, offering a hand. “You were friends at the academy? Martina Januvitski, by the way.”
“Maze Hardy,” Maze replied, accepting the Human’s hand and pumping it. “We hated each other. But we still made a half decent team.”
“Won that flying machine contest, didn’t we,” Katara asked rhetorically. “Still not sure how you kept it up there that long.”
“Still not sure how you put the thing together. How is it you’re here and not bossing people on a big ship?”
Katara rubbed her jaw in embarrassment. “Didn’t get on with my last chief,” she confessed.
Hardy grimaced. “Oh, you didn’t thump him, did you? Like you did…”
“Martok Koloth,” Katara nodded. “Lecherous little sod. No, I just continually disagreed with him.” She reached a hand over and scritched the opposite side of her neck, a sign Maze knew as her being a touch embarrassed. “Probably shouldn’t have called him a total idiot in front of the entire department.”
“That’ll do it,” Martina nodded. “Lieutenant Groal doesn’t seem so bad.”
“He’s… something,” the Greyfur allowed.
“He’s good,” Hardy advised. “You don’t need to worry about him getting ‘hands on’, either. He won’t hit on you.”
Katara looked a little reassured. Or a little chagrined. Maze couldn’t be sure which as she remembered she still had the Humans’ hand. She let it go.

“You do realise,” Hawle said as he sat in his command chair and awaited the results from Zowaix, “that, if it’s nothing to do with the drone I’m going to have to poke fun at you in some way, Dawton?”
The Human looked up from his communications console. “I only said it came from that direction, sir,” he said in defence of himself. “I never actually said it was the drone.”
“Fibber,” Chapston cut in.
“I believe you used the term ‘this is ours’ to indicate who it was,” Match added, having been told about the incident as soon as he’d returned to the bridge duties.
“Oh, come on,” the Human protested, trying not to chuckle, “is it ‘dogpile on Dawton’ day?”
“Well that’s offensive,” Colleen Una said, sliding imperiously onto the bridge and slipping into Stikka’s seat. “Are we here long,” she asked Hawle.
“I wonder if it’s too late to rule by fear,” Hawle sighed. “I take it you’re here to remind me that we’re due at Micanna in twenty hours?”
“Nope,” the Collian replied, leaning back into the chair. “I was bored so thought I’d join in the nonsense going on up here. Why is Sarah hitting her panel with her forehead?”
“You just admitted to boredom,” Hawle advised. “Ship lore says to never say that as quiet times are preferable to the intense insanity of action.”
“Oh, Sorry Sarah.”
“’S’all right,” Sarah replied as Hawles armrest console booped.
The Lappinean pulled up the report from Zowaix, although he had a feeling Goole had written it as it seemed conciliatory in tone. “Quite a lot of precious or useful metals,” he said. “Send the report back to Talvery, Dawton. And include the disarming codes for mines three through seven.”
“Err… Aye, sir.”
Hawle tapped his comm. “Hawle to Hardy.”
<”Commander?”>
“Get back in your flight suit, take mines three up to seven and go seed them on some of those rocks would you?” He heard her acknowledge and cut the line. “Just in case it comes back, Put up a warning buoy.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really nice chapter you wrote as always! Gonna wait patiently for the next installment!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Nine

ON THE WAY

Sarah knew it was coming. The question Colleen had been dying to ask her for the last twenty minutes. She watched the helm panel and the screen and mentally counted down from ten as she felt the Collian Canine’s eyes boring into the back of her head as she waited until it was right to ask the question. Sarah reached zero in her countdown and started again. She got down to five this time.
“How long until we get to Micanna,” the ambassador asked.
“Seven hours at velocity 2,” Sarah and Hawle replied simultaneously, although Sarah added a ‘ma’am’ to her reply.

Colleen looked between the two in amusement. “Did you two prepare that,” she enquired with an amused tone, a slight grin turning up one corner of her mouth, “or am I just that predictable?”
Raven face palmed. She handed Colleen a sealed envelope, written in galactic standard, with her name on it. Seeing Hawle’s imperious grin she swallowed, knew she’d been tricked, and opened the envelope to reveal the words ‘no, you’re not’ on it. She chuckled, screwed up the paper, and threw it at the ship’s Captain.
“Ack,” he cried, holding his hands up to intercept the ball of paper, “assault! Assault!” He put the paper in a pocket for later recycling. “Ah, you often ask that question on the way to your duties, Colleen. I know it’s because you’re nervous about your duties. Want to tell me what we’re facing?”
Colleen sighed. “Micanna and Rayvon have been long term trading partners,” she started, “trading in minerals, metals, gold, even water in times of droughts. They’re close neighbours due to being right out here, so far away from their main worlds. But things changed just recently. The Rayvon trade minister was accused of overstating the price of their grain in trades to Micanna. Apparently documents were found and provided to the Mican Colony Finance Minister that allege Rayvon are charging Micanna about fifty percent more per tonne than they are to other Raitchian Colonies throughout the sector. Micanna protested but Rayvon denied it all. The Micannan press service, of course got hold of the situation and fanned the flames. Now the Micannans won’t accept any trade with Rayvon without extreme examination of every and line. Rayvon, naturally, are doing likewise. News reached both Mica and Raitche.” She shrugged. “They don’t want to deal with it so they foisted it onto the Council.”
Hawle mused. “And how are you planning to deal with it?”
“First thing to do is speak to Paulton, the Rayvon trade minister, see what he has to say and get his permission for Harvey Winsome to examine all his accounts to see what’s what. Then we get him and Berwick – the Micanna Finance minister – together in a neutral location to see if I can make some headway…”
“Get Kirkwall to prepare a menu,” Raven mused. “And not Human food.”
“He’s really done that,” Una asked admiringly. “He told me he was planning theme days but…”
Hawle nodded. “He’s doing it. Chappers,” he called, “I take it you’ll actually be trying it, rather than just using the replication machines?”
Chapston glanced backwards but didn’t turn as she wanted to keep her attention on her panel – as much as possible, anyhow. She’d seen people crash before now… “If you insist, sir,” she replied cheekily.
“Oh, I do,” Hawle nodded. “If I have to run the risk, so do you. It’s your fault anyhow. Yours and Dawton are the only....”
“And Harrison in Sciences,” Dawton cut in.
“Three Humans so…”
“There’s one in Engineering now,” Match added.
“FOUR Humans,” Hawle corrected, wondering if he’d ever get to the end of the sentence. “So Kirkwall has to carry supplies for the species. He needs to use them and half of you lot don’t go in…” He paused, a finger raised. One of his eartips drooped. “What were we talking about?”
Una snorted politely. “The plans to get the colonists talking.”
“Oh,, right. Yeah.” Hawle looked over to Raven. “Go wake Harvey up, Raven. Tell our little Jondahl to get ready for work?”
“Right,” the Burman said, levering herself out of her seat.

Groal put his list away, as Hawle had commanded some time ago, and decided that, if it was going to happen it would. He’d just have to do it naturally. Get to know some of the other Tods on the ship properly. But not now. Now he had to run checks over the central consoles and make sure the hull plating was still up to specifications. He felt he needed to get that done personally but allocated himself Engineer Cass, just in case his attention started to wander. He ran over the checklist in his head and made sure it matched what was on the padd on the table. “You start with starboard,” he advised the Mican, “I’ll take Port. Then we can swap over and check each other’s findings.”
“Uh, right, sir,” the Mican male replied, a little confused. Mind you, he always hoped that the Chief would test him like this. Tests were prerequisites to promotion and the Mican was looking forward to the day when he could comm his mother and tell her the loans she’d taken out to get him into college had paid off. Like they hadn’t quite for his five older siblings. Top of the tree for once! He hurried after the Officer to the terminals and started running through the readings, hoping to get them all correct.

Raven pressed the door stud for the I.T. department and waited as she heard noises from inside. Harvey Winsome, the low level telepathic Squirrel was getting out of his bed above the door. She heard him crash about for a few seconds before he staggered to the door and opened it. He had no shoes on and his shirt was on backward, meaning his back was professing to be the smartest thing in the room. “Oh, heya, Lieutenant,” he bleared.
“Noturnal sucks,” Raven told him. “Get up, get breakfast and start looking up the accounts of the Rayvonnian Trade minister that’s in the press recently. Nothing that can be traced back to here for now, Harvey. He’s not asked us to do it. And find out how the Micannan press got to know about it.”
“Nothing traceable there, either?”
“Who cares?” Raven shrugged. “They want people to be held accountable? Then so should they be. Find out what you can.”
“Gladly,” the Jondahl replied. “Oh, have you seen the news by the way?”
“News,” Raven glowered.
“Um, apparently a Micannan Militia ship may have just attacked a Ravon freighter? According to Rayvon Colonial presses anyhow. Apparently the Rayvon Militia’s on its way to ‘have a word’ with the Micannan fleet.”
Raven took off for the bridge before the door shut.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Enjoyable chapter once again! I really like where this is heading!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Ten

FULL SPEED

No dilly-dallying now. The Loper shot through space at maximum velocity as Dawton tried to get independent verification of the news of the attack on the Rayvon freighter. Access to the newswires from both colonies indicated they were blaming each other – as expected – and hails to both colonial presidents had gone unanswered as their aides insisted they were in closed consultation with their cabinets. Hawle had sent a message to Talvary Station to request back up but it wouldn’t be there before the Loper arrived, no matter who they sent. The Frigate had the best engines in the local U.S.C. fleet and she was pushing them to the limit. She’d outstrip ninety percent of known ships at this speed and it still might not be fast enough.

At this speed, Chapston liked to think of it as ‘threading the needle. It was a kamikaze run if not plotted absolutely perfectly and required approval from the Captain and the Science Officer on duty the latter because they could have the computer analyse the route to avoid asteroids, meteor showers and other such natural phenomena. She found it hard to pilot at such speeds and was pretty much there to apply the brakes when they got to target or when sensors indicated something was in the way. At this speed sensors would only give a few seconds warning so she needed to be on her watch.

Maze Hardy did her best to ignore the gravitational pressure pushing against her under the sheer speed as she started combat prep lectures with her pilots. She had downloaded the schematics and lists on the ships the Rayvons and Micannans had at their disposal and laid out for her ten pilots the potential weak points and defects of the craft classes, paying particular attention to their propulsion and weapons systems although she stressed that several Militia craft would probably have been augmented by underhanded purchases by the Captains and other wealthy Officers. After all, those with funds enough to keep their good selves out of needing to serve the greater good often liked to serve in the local forces. They’d protect themselves as best they could.

Jaqui Pangal stood in front of her Officers, giving them detailed descriptions of exactly where they were to be stationed in event of boarding and who was to be ready for any possible assault team if they had the opportunity to board the enemy vessels. She authorised the use of security rifles from stores and the leaders of each squad got personal shields capable of taking one or two shots before the power unit gave out. The latest trick from Security division R&D, issued for evaluation around known space. Personally, Pangal didn’t rate anything that lowered the sense of personal danger when it came to making combat decisions but she approved of keeping her people alive.

In the medical bay, Doctor Barleycorn and Doctor Fuze organised their nurses. It took them about six seconds.

“Still nothing, Dawton,” Raven asked, expectations low.
“I’m afraid not, sir,” the Communications Officer replied. “They’re all still saying they’re in council.”
“Well, keep trying,”
“Sir.”
“Add my name to the requests, David,” Colleen said, looking over towards the Officer. “An Ambassadorial voice can sometimes loosen bricks in the wall,” she explained to Hawle.
“Since when is he ‘David’” Hawle asked.
“I prefer not to use the word ‘Ensign’ where I can avoid it, Commander. And,” she added, “as I am not in the Command rank structure..,”
“...I can’t stop you,” Hawle remarked.
“No,” Colleen remarked smugly, full in the knowledge that this particular Commander wouldn’t even if he DID have the right.
“And there’s no more information on this incident,” Raven continued, ignoring the other two.
“Their news sources are both reporting the incident and broadcasting active ‘combat maps’ of the area, showing the ship idents as they move.”
“Forward those to my terminal,” Hawle asked. “And find out where they’re getting these from! These things are supposed to be top secret! At least on larger colonies.”
“I’ll ask Winsome to try and find out,” Dawton replied. “I’ll, er, tell him to do it legally,” he added before muttering ‘if possible’ so everyone had deniability.
“Something smells about this,” Hawle muttered to Raven as he watched the icons of the Micannan fleet moving closer to the Rayvon and the one Micannan Icon in the nebula where the incident had occurred.
“Like what,” Raven replied.
“I dunno,” Hawle confessed. “It’s like there’s something playing at the back of my mind but I can’t quite see it. It’s irritating but…” He paused. “I think I’ve got it. Match, tell me about the nebula we’re headed for.”
“Uh,” Raitchian said, caught a little flatfooted by the sudden request, “it’s a pretty standard small nebula. Three parsecs in distance. Lots of Hydrogen and other ionised gases.”
“Which usually interfere with ships sensors and transmissions, yeah?”
“Uh, usually.”
“So why can we see the ident from that Micannan ship clearly?”
Match mused. “Council ships have boosters to break through but…”
Hawle nodded. “Militia navies usually don’t.” He pointed to the solo signal on the screen. “That icon has not even flickered. Dawton,” he stated, “change the message to the presidents. See if we get a different response.”
Dawton nodded. “What’s the message, sir,” he asked.
“It’s a simple thing, this, Raven,” Hawle announced. “Fake an attack and rile both sides up to combat.” Hawle rested his muzzle atop a hand before replying to Dawton, trying to appear thoughtful. “Tell them their fleets may be heading into a trap.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This really was a cool chapter Welshy! It was even more well-written than the previous chapters!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Eleven

NEBULOUS

The nebula stood before them and Hawle turned to Match. “Three parsecs,” he asked.
“Yes, sir. The signal’s coming from a standard yellow sun about fifty thousand kilometres in. We’d be able to see it on sensors if we were in normal space.”
Hawle turned back to the main viewer. “It’s quite cute as nebulas go.” He bounced back to his seat. “Full impulse, Chappers, take us in.”
“Aye, sir,” the helm officer replied, moving them towards the disrupted space.
“Dawton, any news on those fleets?”
“Nothing official, sir, but they have both slowed their advance somewhat.”
“Letting us go first like a Canary into a suspect explosive factory,” Hawle muttered.
Colleen looked over at him. “I really don’t get why you’re thinking this is a trap? A Rayvon freighter could easily have tried hiding in here if it was under attack. It’s not far off the trade routes.”
Hawle mused for a second or two before deciding he should probably tell her. He popped open one armrest and extracted a chewy sweet first, though. Hawthorne flavour or something. “I don’t trust how this little war is being escalated, Colleen. The press seems to have too much of a hand in it. Who broke the news about the Rayvon Minister? The press. Who kept bringing it up despite denials? The press. The press on either side, from what you’ve told me are fanning the flames with things they’ve found out that the other side denies because of course they do! The Rayvon press then breaks the information about the attack that happened here and we can, somehow, still pick up the ships’ signals from inside the nebula? No, my spider-sense is tingling.”
Colleen cocked her head slightly. “Your what-now?”
“My sense of danger,” Hawle corrected, throwing a wrapped candy at the back of the giggling Human on the helm.
“I didn’t know you watched those Human movies, sir,” Lieutenant Stikka said from the back of the bridge. The Racon crossed around to his seat and stood in front of Colleen, who simply crossed her legs and stayed resolutely in his seat.
“I occasionally peruse them,” Hawle admitted with affected boredom, “helps me understand the Human cultural zeitgeist.”
“I have certain films that…”
“...it’s best I never know about,” Hawle replied with a grin. “Take up bridge security, would you? Think Jaqui’s a bit busy, Manny. Speaking of which, do we see anything yet, guys?”
“Not on sensors,” Match said, watching his panel through a focussing scope.
“You’ll hurt your eyes doing that,” Hawle advised. Match pulled his head up and blinked.
“I lost comms as soon as we entered,” Dawton advised, “I engaged the signal boost so we’re fine for a few hundred thousand K.”
Hawle nodded, confident Dawton would know he’d done it despite the fact the pair had their backs to each other.
“Still out of visual range,” Chapston commented from her station.

Harvey Winsome was a little irritated right now. He’d managed to start looking into the finances of the trade minister and had sent out ‘requests’ to one or two friends he had in the White-hat-but-tell-no-one circles but the Galnet service had gone down the moment they entered into the nebula. It wasn’t a TOTAL loss as he still had the accounts he’d managed to procure through certain channels he’d rather no-one asked about to look through for irregularities and signs of secondary accounts but he was cut off from his most important duties so he did something he rarely did. He printed out the receipts and left the I.T. Department. On the merest of whims that had nothing to do with being hungry, he was sure, he headed to the replication systems and stood behind the person who appeared to be waiting. After a few seconds he looked around the side of the person. “Uh, are you using..?”
The Russelian technician looked down at the bushy tailed youngster. “Nope,” he ventured. “No-one is until the system comes back on. Been down most of the morning so far. Just set it to reboot again. If it works it’ll be up in a moment or so. If it don’t…”
Harvey sighed. His moderate additional senses could tell the Engineer was telling the truth as he was standing close. “I suppose I’d better try Kirkwall’s place,” he admitted, going back to his room for some money-off vouchers. Kirkwall hardly charged anything but his supplies had to be paid for and Harvey wanted to keep all his credits for rainy days. So the ‘half price’ vouchers would come in handy now. He ducked in, grabbed one and ducked back out again, relocking the door.

Cedar grimaced as he saw Harvey come in. He put some new Flapjacks in to cook and threw a hand towel over his left shoulder before stepping over. “The Coupon Captain arrives,” he said, slightly sarcastically. “Replication systems down again?”
Harvey held his hands wide. “Can I help it if I have no taste?”
“Explains why you’re not wearing a shirt,” Cedar goaded, making Harvey look down at his clothed chest. Cedar flicked the towel at him. “Made you look. What are you half paying for this time, Harv?”
Harvey gave a short laugh at the Chef’s sense of humour. “Setting up your systems last year, I think, As for now… Human day,” he asked, noting the sign. “Um…. A nut cutlet and Columbian Coffee? Extra seeds.”
“On the cutlet or in the coffee,” Kirkwall asked innocently.
“On the food, twit,” Harvey said as a rejoinder. He took the coffee and headed over for an empty table as Kirkwall’s waitress cleaned the tables. “Afternoon,” he said in greeting. The Mican smiled politely back at him and, knowing who he was, came in close enough to make him cough with a ‘stray’ thought. After recovering his composure and giving her an entirely genuine smile, he started reading through the accounts until lunch arrived.

“Well, we’re close enough now,” Chapston admitted as the Loper looked out on space where nothing much was happening. There was certainly no sign of any freighters or attacking ships. All there was around here was a small planetoid. “No sign of anyone or anything.”
“Get a record,” Hawle advised. “We need proof.”
“Recording visual input,” Stikka advised. “Uh, I mean the ship is. I’m not. I don’t even like looking at the screen. Artificial eye’s having a whale of a time.”
“Noted. Raven, if you were the Micannan forces and you got here and found nothing, what would you do next?”
Raven put her chin on a hand as she considered. “I’d probably think there was some deception going on and I’d back away. But I bet someone would investigate that planetoid.”
Hawle nodded. “Agreed. Rogue Planetoids always attract attention. They can’t help it. They’re so interesting. And easy to mine. Any colony would love to have one to investigate, even here, right between the colonies. It could lead to trouble. Best if we claim it…” He paused. “But let’s be cautious, hmm? Match, send a probe to scan the thing. Chappers, put that thing in the rear view mirror would you? About ninety thousand K should do.”
He crossed his legs as the ship moved backwards, lifting his mighty left boot off the floor.

Match launched the probe and watched on the main screen as it sped down towards the planetoid. “Starting probe in five… four… three…”
Hawle knew when the scan had started. Largely from the large clumps of rocks heading the Loper’s way at speed from the exploding planetoid.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Entertaining chapter you have put up! Looking forward to what comes next!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

12

ROCKS ON

Hawle looked at the screen with a fair amount of alarm. He sat forward in his chair. “Chapston...” he said simply,
“Engaging evasive pattern ‘foot to the floor now, sir,” Sarah answered, quickly engaging the engines in a way that pushed Hawle back into his seat.
“Blue alert, Match,” Hawle ordered. “Everyone needs to stay right where they are.”
“Gravitational forces are in play,” Match said, giving a moderate explanation as to why the dampeners weren’t counteracting the acceleration completely as the blue alert indicator sounded. “It should stabilize in a moment,” the Raitchian added, wondering if he’d be able to release the death grip he had on the rail soon. The ship thundered away, vibrating through space towards the Rayvon and Micannan fleets in open space.
“Dawton,” Hawle called, listening to his voice vibrate in his own ears, “call ahead and tell the fleets what’s coming. Tell them to fire on any large lumps of planet that they see!”
“Why,” Colleen asked.
Stikka chose to answer for Hawle. “That debris is huge and travelling in every direction,” the Racon advised. “It’s also in perpetual motion right now. Things might slow it down over the next few years but, for now, we have chunks the size of countries headed swiftly through space. Any colony they hit – and I can think of two in this area at least – are facing global extinction events, Ambassador. Anything those ships can do to break up the chunks could save millions.”
“I’m sending now, sir,” Dawton replied. “I get the feeling they know already but they won’t be able to send back.”
“Don’t much care about that,” Hawle advised, noting that the juddering was calming down as they got further away from the shock wave, “but I hope they appreciate working together over shooting each other.”

Doctor Barleycorn helped a Chipmunk called Gerry up onto the bed in sickbay after he’d found himself with a broken wrist from being thrown against a bulkhead. The little Engineer had practically crawled along the wall and had to hold the door frame in sickbay until the gravity had stabilized properly before he could open the door, fall off the wall and enter properly. The big Mican had risen from where she’d been secure in her chair and picked him up to carry her over. She ran the scans as Fuze waited for the inevitable next patient to arrive. “Hope the shuttles are OK,” Night said, noting the flight crew icon on Gerry’s uniform.
“They’ll be fine,” Gerry replied. “Most essential points on the ship have a gravity boost generator in case the main unit fails. Shuttle bays, Engineering command, the galley…”
Barleycorn snorted. “Since when is the galley essential?”
“Since it has about five hundred pointy and pronged weapons in it at any one time?”
Night nodded as the devices did their best to fix up the wrist. “Good point. About bad points, I mean.”
Gerry risked a smile but winced as the bone was repaired. “They’re, uh, all bad points when you’re my size,” he said as Bazil took a purple coloured Feline and the simple brown Canine helping her, over to the other bed.
“Nurse Ogron,” Night told the thick set Brockian assisting her, “you better deal with the next one to come in, now that Baz is occupied.”
The Nurse nodded her black and white head and kept an eye on the door.

“I can’t see any signs of financial fiddling in these accounts,” Winsome confessed to Kirkwall, who was a little distracted by the rattling of his cutlery and the fact the gravity booster was on at three quarters power. He noted the blue alert panel flash into play and pressed the button that remote locked the door. He had to ensure no-one opened the door as the difference in pressure could be dangerous. He carefully moved the cutlery tray into one of the metal drawers and locked it. As it was sealed to the floor it was, now, more or less safe so he moved over to the table.
“Door’s locked” he told a Canid who was headed for the door. “The gravity booster’s on and blue alert’s in play.” The Canid accepted the situation, finally noting the alert, and sat back down.
“Wonder what’s going on,” Winsome queried.
“Oh, someone’s probably trying to kill us,” Kirkwall replied. “What’s the trouble?” Winsome gave him the basic outline of what he’d been asked to do – leaving out the slightly more dubious parts – and advised Cedar that there seemed to be no real correlation between the presented accounts and the actual accounts. “So the presented accounts in the press seem to be fabricated,”
“Hmm,” Harvey replied, sipping his coffee as the blue alert dropped,” in a way that was convincing enough to get the Micannans to issue denials but… It wouldn’t have stood up to serious enquiry by investigators of any capability so what’s the point?”
Kirkwall clicked the remote door opener so the Canine could get out. “I’ve read crime novels and political thrillers over the years,” he confessed as the Canine left. “Hated them all. But some of them do show how public opinion can shape things. Perhaps someone’s trying to make him look bad in the very short run? They set up one of these spoor sites…”
“Spoof,” Harvey corrected. “Spoors are edible.”
“...and equally poisonous. Someone set up one of these sites to make the press publish fake facts?”
“Or the press did it themselves,” Harvey mused.

“Can we stop running yet,” Raven asked as the Loper cleared the nebula. Communications, though spotty this close to the distortion edge, told them that they could see the Micannan fleet of ships ahead of them and waiting.
“Depends on one question I suppose,” Hawle replied. “Are they targetting the incoming storm or US? Dawton, are they talking?” He turned to look at the Human.
Dawton had his hand to his ear, holding the headphone close so he could hear it more clearly. “I… think so,” he admitted. “Yes. They’re telling us to alter course so we don’t get in their firing solution.”
“Agreed,” Hawle replied. “Chappers, ten to port please. Anyone see the Rayvon fleet?”
“I do,” Match said. “Uh, if the Micannans destroy the debris here, their fleet’s likely to get rocks in the face.”
“Wonderful,” Hawle replied. “Put ‘em on.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This is just a great chapter! Keep it up!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

13

ROCKS OFF

“Dawton,” Hawle remarked calmly, “Put us on with the Micannan lead ship, would you?” The Lappinean watched the screen carefully as the Human worked on it.
“I don’t, uh, know which IS…” Dawton advised.
Hawle imagined the Human holding up his hands in exasperation and smiled very slightly as he heard the slap of hand on thing that indicated he’d been correct. “Well,” he counselled, “put it on general. I want to speak to everyone anyway. Rayvon lot included.” He waited until Dawton commented that he was on. “This is Commander Aldair Hawle of the Unified Security Council Frigate Loper to both militia forces in this locale. I’ve got about two minutes to speak with you before the meteors get to this location so I’ll tell you this. Working independently, neither of you has the firepower to do much against the incoming threat! You would be better served by working together to concentrate your fire and, if that’s not obvious enough to you, think on this. This trap was meant for YOU. This bomb was meant to devastate one fleet or both AND damage your planets. There is NO help getting here in time! You might distrust each other but you have to work together on this for the best chance of…”
“Sir,” Dawton advised, “I’m getting a message from the Rayvon fleet.”
“What do they say?”
“They say, uh…”
“Go ahead,” Hawle said, now forewarned by the hesitance.
“They say to be quiet as they hadn’t finished arriving. They’ve already decided to back up the Micannan forces.”
“Right,” Hawle admitted, slightly deflated. “Like I knew,” he asked as Dawton cut the line. Hawle ordered Chapston to take them to a quarter power as the Rayvon fleet settled in besides the Micannan. “Let’s add our power to theirs. Bring Cannons online , ready any gravometric torpedoes charge the traction beam and get ready to shoot rocks.”
“Why the traction beam,” Colleen asked.
“At this distance from a planet,” Hawle explained, “adjusting the course by a single degree can shift it a thousand miles from the planet.”

Two hours passed with ships chasing down chunks of planet all over the system until the major chunks had been splintered or destroyed. The two fleets finally stopped firing and things settled. “All right,” Hawle said, clapping his hands together. “good work, everyone. Now for the next bit. Dawton, now we know which ships are leading the charges, send greetings and ask them if their commanding officers would be prepared to meet on neutral ground to try and start up a dialogue. We have the table, we have the ambassador and we have the food, they bring the drink.”
“Of course,” Colleen said. “Raitchians and Micans can drink the same stuff but both bringing a bottle is a trust thing.”
“There’s a message coming through from the Rayvon leader, sir,” Dawton said.
“Put her up.”

The image of a Raitchian flicked up on screen and half smiled at the crew. <”If I don’t agree,”> the face said, making Hawle’s jaw droop, <”are you going to make another speech, Aldair?”>
Hawle tutted. “Lieutenant Rowbuck,” he surmised. “It’s been some time.”
<”Ten years and a career, Commander. I’ll be there and I’m not bringing the Cassis.”>
“Bring the wheat beer you didn’t think I knew about, then.”
<”Of course. And it’s Fleet Admiral Rowbuck these days. Not that I’m ever formal with you, Aldair. I’ll shuttle over.”> He cut the line.
“Oh,” Hawle thought, running fingers through his head fur, “the Micannans will probably take the length of that transmission as playing favourites… Come on, Colleen.” He stood up and started to head from the bridge. “Dawton, ask Chief Pangal to join us in the shuttle bay. You have the bridge, Raven.”
“Of course, Aldair,” Raven quipped, making him turn and look at her for a second before Colleen joined him.

As they passed Technician Polva in the passageway, Colleen decided to broach the subject. “So,” she asked, “who’s Lieutenant Rowbuck?”
“Admiral Rowbuck,” Hawle corrected, wagging a finger. “A friend from Command college. We had a few courses together. He was keen for promotion, I think you could say. Quite sharp minded too. A bit more by the book than I am but still liable to hit you with it if there’s no better weapon. Seems promotion didn’t come as fast as he liked in the USC ranks. So he must have come out here…” He paused as Pangal joined them, noting the combat suit she was wearing. “Are you sure that’s needed,” he asked.
“Are you sure I have time to change,” Jaqui replied. “Sir.”
“I could still choose to rule by fear, you know?”
“Of course, sir.”

The two shuttles touched down in the bay, the Micannan one first, and atmosphere flooded back in before the group entered. The Micannan Admiral stepped down first She was a strikingly thin and tall female of the greyfur variety and Hawle thought he could detect an element of the Goughian Mican in her biology, possibly accounting for her added height. He stepped forward. “Admiral Whitcombe,” he said in greeting. “I’m Commander Hawle. These are Ambassador Colleen Una and Security Chief Jaqui Pangal.”
“Accepted,” she relied, accepting his offered hand. “These are my adjutants, Commander Skelmer and Lieutenant Doncaster.” She indicated two male Micans who stepped out behind her. “Is there a need for security, Commander?”
“In any attempt to restore civility when it is threatened,” Hawle commented, “there is need to include those who can be uncivil. With the ability to be uncivil evident…”
“...civility is the best outcome,” Admiral Rowbuck commented, approaching with his own adjutants. He nodded to Whitcombe. “Admiral Whitcombe,” he said in tense greeting. “I trust we can make some progress towards… not shooting at each other?”
“If that is to be avoided, may we strive to do so,” Whitcombe agreed. “I understand you two know each other?”
“That’s why Colleen will be hosting the meeting,” Hawle put in. “We are impartial, merely looking to solve the issue. I’m not here to take sides.”

He did, however, lead them from the bay.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I do love each new part that you add to this! Great work!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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14

SHIP DIPLOMACY

“So what do you expect this meeting to do,” Admiral Whitcombe asked, sitting across from her opposite number in the conference room as he paced the room. “It’s not like either of us are in any position to change the minds of the politicians.”
Hawle shrugged lightly. “We’re all subject to the whims of politicians at some level but it has to be said that I figured half the problems involved can be mitigated by the Military Commanders of the militias actually getting to know each other properly.”
Admiral Roebuck finally opted to sit down. “I already know a fair amount of it,” he commented. “One of the benefits of being a duplicitous race is intelligence works quite hard.” He smiled across at Whitcombe. “No offence.”
“None taken, ‘Sudsy’,” she shot back.
“What isn’t in those reports is more what defines us,” Colleen interrupted smoothly. “What the Commander is saying is that, by better knowing the person across from you, you have a better working knowledge of how to progress from here. And may be able to advise us of how to proceed from here. We’ve managed to stop this particular situation blowing up but we might not be able to stop the next one.”
Hawle looked up as Kirkwall entered, complete with serving trolley. “I had no time to prepare anything special,” the Mican advised, “so it’s quite lucky I had some things left from my ‘Human day’ that suit. He set plates in front of everyone at the table and produced glasses for the drinks the Admirals produced.
“What’s the meal, Cedar,” Colleen asked, looking at the silver salver in front of her.
“Steak and Bubble and Squeak,” the chef declared, taking the top off to reveal the meat with the cake shaped lump of vegetables and Potatoes. “Fortunately there’s only one herbivore eating so…”
“I just have the cake, don’t I,” Hawle asked.
“I added Carrots, sir,” Cedar protested.

An hour passed before Hawle pulled himself back onto the bridge and into his chair, putting one hand to his temple. “Mican grain Whisky,” he explained to Raven. “Navy strength.” He groaned as Raven ordered a medic to the bridge. “I got them to save you some,” he added.
Raven nodded solemnly. She knew that the only way to take it without causing offence was straight up at these events. It wasn’t quite a poison but it was strong. Around about 68% usually. “Appreciated, sir.” She watched him straighten up in the chair and activated his restraints. “Where are we headed next?”
“Back to the established plan, Raven,” Hawle said, before a hiccup knocked half an ear into a droop. “we visit Micanna once Whit...Whit… the big Mican and Sudsy get off.”
Half an hour – and one anti intoxicant shot later – the Loper was on course, following the Micannan fleet back home after getting the admirals to agree that they’d put pressure on their governments to try a dialogue being as it seemed some third party was trying to instigate colonial war. Colleen had managed to persuade them to avoid specifying the word ‘media’ when it came to that as, if it wasn’t the media, they’d be sued for insinuating it was and, if it was, there was no need to prewarn them. Hawle decided t take some time in the bath to unwind and relax and locked the door.

“There’s something I don’t get,” Katara asked Sikly as they proceeded down the hallway to the next destination. “Why is it so many here are dating outside their species?” She put her hands up. “I mean the Commander’s with a Canine, the section chief’s with a Lappinean, the two Doctors are probably banging boots together…”
Sikly laughed. “Never let them hear you say that, Engineer,” he warned, “Fuze is mainly here to work on Barleycorn’s hatred of Raitchians. They’re friends, nothing more,” he added as a technician dodged around them. As for the others… You may have noticed we’re all a bit oddball?”
She looked up at him. “Can’t really avoid it, can I,” she snarked.
“Quite. Well, some of us never feel we quite fit in with our own so we open our eyes wider. We see passions beneath the fur, you could say.”
“Is that why you’re walking on the ceiling,” Katara asked casually.
“Does it disturb you,” Sikly asked, used to the reaction of others. He tried to spend at least an hour on the ceilings a day, getting used to the disorientation of the anti-gravity boots and the pull on his skeletal structure. Living in a metal box with artificial gravity, he was concerned about how people would need to react quickly if it ever failed or reversed. They’d need someone ready for it. That was him.
“Very little bothers me, uh, sir. But the rec room we’re supposed to be working in has fifteen foot high ceilings.”
“Good point.” Sikly walked down the wall and disconnected the boots power. “So you’re not looking for love here?”
“Nope,” the Vixen retorted. “I have no interest in it. If it happens to wander past I’ll grab it. And throttle it.”
Sikly entered the rec room and wished he hadn’t as the sonic assault practically made his eyes water. Katara gritted her teeth and walked over to the malfunctioning speaker unit. She tried pulling the plate off but couldn’t quite concentrate enough until Sikly pushed her aside, and shot the speaker. “IT’S HAPPENED BEFORE,” he shouted, still half deaf. “A GLITCH MEANING THEY SEND OUT A SONIC SIGNAL ON OUR TOOLS FREQUENCY! UNTIL WE GET…” he slapped his head as the ringing subsided and coughed. “Until we get get the sonic proof tools the quickest and most efficient way is to replace the whole speaker.”
“Couldn’t you have told me that before?”
“Nope,” Sikly grinned, then coughed again as his throat hurt. “You needed to experience it. It proves something else.”
“What’s that?”
“That, although we may be mad,” the Mican replied, using a now working tool to lever the dead speaker off the wall, “there’s a purpose to it. Now,” he continued, “you can be the one that deals with security.”
“Right. I’ll… pardon me?”
Sikly spoke with his face inside the wall. “I just fired an energy weapon on board this ship/. Note the yellow alert stripes?”
“I… Why didn’t we hear the…” She face palmed as she realised the stupidity of what she was saying. “We shot the speaker.”
“Correct,” Sikly said as security rushed the door.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This chapter made me chuckle a little bit. Nice work!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

Yum, carrot cake.

Also, I can't really relate to Elena, for my age I'm rather tall. :D
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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15

LANDFALL

Micanna, a green and gold ball with patches of blue that Chapston associated with small oceans, lay before the Loper on the viewscreen. She’d moved the ship into parking orbit three minutes back and watched some of the planet’s tourist attractions through her viewer. She gave passing thoughts to taking Polva down there on the next leave as she looked at the woodland cabins near the Harvan Waterfalls. She felt he’d enjoy the solitude and peace as he was always telling her the ship was quite busy and he never got time for himself. Being there might well make his tail wag. Or the caverns to the south. There were Eighty thousand Micans on the colony, across the small planet, and they could probably avoid the vast majority. She’d have to ask Commander Raven for holidays due when the current problems were finished.

Lieutenant Stikka anxiously adjusted his cufflinks and straightened down his best suit before leaving his room to meet the others. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d been invited down to attend the meeting but he was determined to make an impression. He primped his collar as he headed for the shuttle bay. Colleen Una fell in beside him in her best formal wear. “Looking good, Lieutenant,” she advised with a smile.
“Well, it’s the best casual thing I have,” he protested, nervously adjusting the cream jackets’ sleeves.
“You’ll be fine,” the ambassador said, slapping his hand gently. “Just stop fussing as you’ll draw attention to your nerves. Is this your first meeting with a President?”
Stikka smiled an uncertain look over at her. “You make it sound so common place,” he complained.
“Oh, rarely,” she demurred. “I’ve only done it a few dozen times. The best way to get on their good side? Don’t show nerves and be polite.”
“So, uh, just be myself?”
“Advice that works well for all,” she agreed, before catching sight of Hawle in green tweed and blue trousers. “Well, ninety-nine percent,” she corrected. “Lappinean colours,” she asked Hawle.
“You know it, Ambassador. I hear it’s winter down there right now. Going dancing afterwards, Lieutenant?”
“Perhaps, sir,” Stikka replied, knowing the Commander expected a ‘comeback.’ "Should we ask them to, uh, drop you by a river?”
“Not bad, Lieutenant,” Hawle remarked, “Command is as much about wit as about instructions. It shows a creative mind. Not one slaved to regular thought. Although you also have to show people around the ship.” He sighed. “Like I had to do with Roebuck yesterday. So many years since college...”

Jaqui Pangal was the other going down with them and she was in Jeans and an armoured T-Shirt under a jacket and had her identification in a pocket as she was going more into the capital than the others. She was headed to the Colony Sheriffs’ office to re-establish her own friendship with an Officer she knew from the USC Shenzen back in the day. She tapped her booted foot against the floor. “Are we ready to head down,” she asked.
“Correct,” Hawle replied, getting into the shuttle and setting himself behind the control panel as he intended to pilot the ship.
“Is he a good pilot,” Colleen asked.
“Let me check,” Stikka replied. He looked absent for a few seconds. “He’s not been reported dead in any fatal crashes so far,” he confirmed.

Winter was, indeed, creeping in to the Micannan weather as the shuttle landed at the colony spaceport near the presidential residence. A local official welcomed them and allowed Jaqui to get out at the car hire office before moving away onto the highway. Barely three minutes after they left the port the car turned up a tree lined drive and stopped at a security point where an armed Mican guard stepped forward and scanned his identity card and permitted them up to the manor.

The glass and steel structure belied its true strength as Stikka noted the steel lacing on the tempered glass that meant the glass didn’t break easily, no matter the impact force. Even an energy weapon would take several seconds to penetrate on continuous beam. Another guard invited them to enter and they passed through a security checkpoint that scanned them for weapons. The Lieutenant shut down the computer part of his brain for the procedure as the systems would register them and questions would, of course, be asked. Ones he didn’t care to answer. He turned them back on after the sweep and blinked as his eyesight went back to ultra high definition from what he – almost jokingly – referred to as 240p. “If you’ll just wait in here,” the official said, gesturing the trio to seats in a waiting room, “and I’ll advise President Leith that you have arrived.” he bowed and backed out of the room.
“Like President Leith didn’t know,” Hawle remarked behind a hand as he invited Colleen to take the first seat.
“A standard opening move,” Colleen agreed. “He’s probably got his security advisor in there with him. I’m pretty sure I would have. Someone strong and slightly scary.”
“Well, in absence of Jaqui,” Hawle said, “Stikka can do strong and slightly scary, can’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Grr,” said Stikka, in a half-hearted sort of way.

They were invited in three minutes later and Hawle noted the age of the Mican behind the desk. This was an experienced politician and leader, it seemed and he chose not to dwell on that as they were introduced to Security Advisor Jacob Coldstream. “Now,” President Leith asked as the trio took seats. “What are you planning to do about our situation? We can’t have people lying about intents and causing unrest. I…” He spread his hands wide. “We’re not a big colony. I can’t see why anyone would be looking to do this to us! Or even, if you’re to be believed, to Rayvon.”
“Eighty thousand is bigger than many,” Hawle commented, “but I get what you mean,”
“We will seek to investigate all the options,” Colleen cut in smoothly, “but we will need your assistance to help us work through the options.”
“We do have suspicions,” Hawle put across, cutting out the potential lie of ‘of course we’ll co-operate’ that he knew was coming in some form or other.
“Care to advise us of who,” Coldstream said bitterly.
“On the condition it doesn’t get discussed outside this room unless absolutely necessary.”
Coldstream looked about to argue but the President cut him short. “Unless necessary,” he agreed.
“Very well.” Hawle took a breath. “Have you heard of Calavix,” he queried.

In the city centre, Pangal stepped into the Sheriffs’ office. Eyes in the café across the road watched her.
Last edited by Welsh Halfwit on Thu Sep 02, 2021 3:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

Now Im extremely curious what an "armoured T-Shirt" would look like.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Rydr Warklub wrote: Thu Sep 02, 2021 11:33 am Now Im extremely curious what an "armoured T-Shirt" would look like.
Quite thick and with energy absorbing tech woven in. Not as good as the full stuff. Think the Bulletproof vest worn by a TV lead compared to the full tactical worn by the back up S.W.A.T. teams.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Glad that this new chapter was put up so I could read it! It really came out nice!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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16

SHERIFF'S OFFICE

The temperature changed for the better as soon as Jaqui stepped into the Sheriff’s office and closed the door behind her. The hum of radiators interfered with the chatter of voices in the complex behind the desk area as she stepped to the open top barrier and tapped the bell for attendance. A slightly overweight Mican female bustled over to deal with her. “May I help you, Ma’am,” she said.
“Well, you can start by never calling me ma’am,” Jaqui grumbled. “Yes, I suppose I’m here to report a crime. Eight years ago, a Mican called Harley Barley – no kidding about the name – ran away from the USC Shenzen whilst he owed me two hundred credits. I was looking to lodge a complaint. Perhaps I could have a word with the Sheriff?” She smiled beguilingly.
“Chief’s not in right now,” the Mican replied, “but I suppose I can call him and let you in to wait. Identification?”
Jaqui mused that she might asked that first but chose to keep that to herself as she located her warrant and identity cards. She passed them across the barrier.
“Ooh, so you’re Jaqui Pangal,” the Mican said, her voice showing her surprise. “I’m Sergeant Ginny Barley, by the way,” she announced. “Harley’s wife. He’s spoken of you.” She hit the release button. “You coming on through?” The door unlocked and Jaqui pushed through and shook Ginny’s hand. “Nice to finally put a face to the ears,” Ginny added.

“So, where is Harley,” Jaqui asked as she walked through the busy office. It seemed Uniform took up most of the floor space, with around thirteen officers currently working the computers and desks but he had a small detective division in the far left corner, three or four Micans and a Canine occupying the half closed off ‘office’ there as they crossed to the only proper office in the place. It even had a door set into the glass.
“He’s escorting a ‘gentleman’ to the local prison after catching him breaking parole,” Ginny replied, letting Jasmine into the office. “I won’t tell him you’re waiting. More fun that way.”

Twenty minutes passed in the time it took Jaqui to drain a Salatan Spice Coffee of questionable heritage and she kept to the back of the office as her old amigo wandered through the main office, heading for the room she was in as she tried to think of a good opening line. She slid to the one corner as his wife called his attention and decided to go with the old standard. “Chief Brewster to team two,” she joked, “break up the fight in the Starwheel bar. Now!”
The ‘target’ turned and, by power of instinct, went for the gun he’d just put into the office safe cabinet. The muscular Mican’s face flashed from fear to annoyance and to shock before he straightened up, stepped across, and greeted Pangal with a hug. “Jaqui Pangal, as I live and breath!”
“Heya, Harley,” Jaqui laughed, “try not to break me, eh?”
“Huh?” He noted the pressure he was applying and relented.
“Still the strongest Mican in the zone,” she asked rhetorically. “What the heck are you doing here?”
Harley crossed around his desk to seat himself. “Met a girl from the colony, followed her out here, got a deputy’s job, lost the girl, won an election and met my wife. I heard you got posted onto the… Bandit?”
“Nah, turned that one down,” Jaqui replied, waving a hand. “I’m Chief aboard the Loper.”
“Ah,” Harley said, the smile dipping a little, “then you’re here for official business?”
“In an unofficial way,” Jaqui shrugged. “Trying to keep a low profile at the moment whilst we look in to what’s causing the current… instabilities.”
“Hmph,” Harley huffed, “I can tell you a few things about THAT,” he groused. “Nothing of which I can legitimately confirm, of course…”
“Which is probably why I’m better off here than talking with the Politicians. Plus there is something else… But I’ll come to that.”
“Well, what I can’t prove is this guy,” he declared, pulling up a picture on his computer, “is what Brunton pulled up in his investigations. This is Walter Minchin, eminent businessmican of these parts and one of the primary voices lobbying for expansion of the spaceport – which is something we hardly need as you saw this morning. Very few people are coming here if they don’t have to. He’s also got a voice in the colonial government but no-where near enough to swing the vote. We’ve also had suspicions about some of his practices but, like I say, nothing to pin him down on.” He pressed a button and the picture shrank so they could both see the full image on the screen, with a second Mican exposed at the restaurant table with Minchin. The second Mican was slightly smaller and greyer in fur colour with a handful of white patches visible under his chin. “This is a local nobody,” Harley announced, sitting back and giving his finger claws a little manicure with a file. “Name of Jake Portree. Works in the IT department in the Gazette.”
“The insider?”
“Probably. But them meeting isn’t proof. Minchin’s married to Portree’s aunt. So their meeting could be entirely innocent. No way to prove it isn’t, even.”
“Hmm… And, of course, if you try to actively investigate, he can squish your chances flat.”
“There is that,” Harley nodded. “What’s the ‘other thing', Jaq,” he asked, looking to change the subject.
“It’s something the Commander’s asked me to check into. I think he wants it kept on the downlow. It’s something that could cause problems at the personal level.”
“Say no more,” he replied, holding up his hands. “Who’s he looking at?”
“His own friend’s turned up out here,” Jaqui whispered conspiratorially before realising there was absolutely no need to whisper. “Only thing is his rank’s changed since he was in the Council Command ranks about a decade back?”
“And he suspects… influence?”
Jaqui nodded. “Mr Roebuck’s gone from Council Lieutenant, Junior Grade to Rayvon colonial Admiral in lest than ten years. Colonial militias aren’t THAT desperate for our officers.”
“You’re probably right about that,” he admitted, “and I’ll try not to be insulted by the insinuation, Jaqui but I don’t…”

He was interrupted by Ginny suddenly returning to the office. “Sorry to disturb you but we have a 99 red,” she said quickly. 99 Red, Jaqui knew, was the code no law officer wanted to receive. Officer in distress. Send help immediately.
“Let’s go,” Harley replied, practically jumping from his seat and heading out to the main office, Jaqui heading behind him. “What’s the situation?”
“David called in that he was heading to a domestic in Farley,” Ginny recounted at speed. “I was about to check in on him when he hit the button.”
Harley paused for a second. “Merrim,” he called, attracting a female’s attention, “get Jaqui some armour, She’s coming with you.” He turned to his guest. “David is Detective Brunton’s first name,” he said, slotting his weapon into place and running for his vehicle.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really beautiful chapter that you written! I like it a lot!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

Space cops!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Here is hoping that there isn't a such thing as space police brutality in the future. :P
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Re: A LOPER TALE

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17

MOMENTS OF DECISION

Coldstream relaxed into an almost genuine smile as the colonial president looked over at him. The advisor crossed closer to the main group in the room. “I wondered if you’d mention that word,” he said simply, getting some confused looks from his leader. “I’ve heard rumours…”
“Well, I haven’t,” President Leith spat. “But I’d appreciate someone telling me!” He looked between his advisor and the others as Coldstream gestured gently towards Hawle.
Hawle took a breath. “A couple of months ago the Council became aware of a major criminal organisation headed by someone called ‘Professor Calavix’ that was setting up in the briar patch. We’re talking major organisation here. Training in infiltration, financing, linking up different types of criminals… All of that. The Loper and the Rodomont were instrumental in dismantling their primary base of operations and we’re working hard to track down the remaining individuals on file…”
“As are Mican Intelligence,” Stikka muttered, before noting he must have said that loud enough for at least Hawle to hear as his Captain was glaring daggers at him.
“...and we’re on the look out for any suspicious major new purchases but this could be one of their plots,” Hawle finished.
“Why haven’t we herd this before,”Leith demanded.
Colleen cut in before Hawle could reply. “Calavix wants discord and chaos so they can operate more freely. By telling people about them, we spread that fear for them. They are NOT everywhere, sir, but they can be anywhere.”
The President nodded. “I suppose there is logic in that,” he grudgingly admitted, his tone indicating his true feelings. “You knew about this,” he asked Coldstream.
“Rumours only,” Coldstream asserted.
Stikka wondered if he could trust his word. It seemed the Mican was a professional liar so that his responses always straddled the line between truth and deception. He wondered what would be the result if he’d had a lie detector installed. Probably inconclusive. The President seemed far more ernest in his estimation. The lack of people letting him in on things he needed to know had brought out a totally genuine irritation in him. Stikka understood that. He had gotten used to the fact people tended to lower their voices when he was around and that was if they didn’t stop talking all together. He liked that most of the officers aboard the Loper didn’t tend to do that. They were beginning to trust him, as he was them. “So the question would be why might they agitate for a small war out here?”
“That,” Hawle agreed, “is the question, isn’t it? I mean whoever this is was manipulating to get one or both fleets into devastation range of that planetoid and the frightening thing on that is…”
“It didn’t matter which fleet they destroyed,” the President finished. “So we both have agitators.”
“Trouble is,” Colleen said, “they’re not going to stop. In fact they’re probably going to get even more direct now. To raise pressure on you to take action.” She shrugged. “And you know the enemy’s not up there but out there.”
“So we need to act quickly,” Hawle mentioned, wondering if there was any tea or biscuits going. “Have any major changes happened in the last few months?”

Jaqui adjusted the armour again in a vain attempt to make the thing more comfortable. Micans just didn’t have the same build as Lappineans and it was a little tight against her armpits but she appreciated it covered about 90% of her torso. The helmet, of course, really wasn’t designed for her ears so she’d put that on as late as possible. She’d not been permitted a weapon, of course, but Merrim had told her of the weapon in the glove compartment and the code to open it. In emergencies only. Pangal had nodded. “So, what’s this place we’re going to like?”
“Farley,” the Mican replied, zipping around a right hand turn with siren on and lights going. “It’s a middle class area. Lots of families and stress indicators. Domestics aren’t rare here. Shoot outs, however, are. General public don’t have firearms.”
“Wonderful,” Jaqui replied as they turned towards a sea of flashing lights, strewn across the tree lined street.

Their target seemed to be a wooden, two storey, structure halfway down the block. In front of it a figure lay, still moving as it tried to pull itself away from the firing line. An energy bolt struck close to his head and he decided to stay still as Jaqui pinned her ears to her head under the helmet and advanced towards her friend. She heard him detail the plan to use the small, armoured, truck they had available to screen the wounded officer and detail where deputies should set up. She had a feeling she knew who was going to drive the truck. She looked at the situation again, paying special attention to the road layout. “What are they waiting for,” she asked, almost rhetorically.
“Perhaps the press,” Harley replied. “We’re keeping them back.” It didn’t sound like he believed that himself, if he were being honest but Jaqui knew he was trying to keep the confidence of his people up.
“Doubt it,” she admitted. “it doesn’t feel right for…” She paused. “The armoured van,” she mused, “who’d be driving it?”
Harley glared at her. “I would,” he declared. “Can’t ask anyone else to take the risk. That’s my officer out there.”
“Your officer,” Jaqui replied, “is a dangled goat. They know you have to rescue him. That’s why he’s still alive.”
Harley looked around. “You might be right,” he admitted. “We need to mitigate the risks.”
“You’d have to park near that sewercover,” Jaqui warned.
“We can get that checked for traps,” Ginny offered. “Go in a few covers down?”
Jaqui nodded, then remembered it was Harley’s job to nod here. Fortunately he’d done so. “Tell them to be careful,” he added, “in this situation – which I want to talk more to Jaqui about – they could have laid traps down there too.” Ginny nodded back and bustled off.
“I could have a team help out too,” Jaqui commented. “Have a squad beam into the house?”
“Beaming tech,” Harley commented before staring directly at her. “I can think of a better use for that. Can’t you?”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Welsh Halfwit
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Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.

Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

18

RESCUE AND RUMOURS

High above the Micannan surface, the Loper wandered in orbit with an ‘escort’ of three militia ships showing the truth about trust and exactly how limited it was right this moment. Aboard ship, Groal worked at the board in the main teleport bay. He had something of a digital problem that he was going to have to let Pangal in on quickly. “Yeah,” he told the comms, “I have no visual confirmation on the target, Jaqui. I can’t teleport without a comm lock.”
<”And he doesn’t have one,”> Jaqui confirmed.
“So, what’s to do?”

If it hadn’t been for the in-ear comm system, Jaqui wouldn’t have been able to hear Karlavan Groal properly but now she had to break the bad news to Harley and… Well, there was something she might be able to do. It might well get her shot but… “They can’t teleport him without a comm signal,” she reported.
Her old friend cursed.
“So now I have to get him one,” she announced grimly. “I’m gonna need some covering fire…”
Harley nodded once and Jaqui made her way around the perimeter to where she was closest to the fallen officer. It was clear here, very little cover between her and the targetted house. She smelled the tinge of blood on the wind and the electrostatic feel of the energy weapons on her fur, even under the shirt. Under the armour. She backed away from the line. “Tell Harley ‘on 5’” she told one of the officers before turning on her comm. “Lock to my comm, Karlavan. Activate when I say.”
She heard him confirm as the Officer confirmed the instruction with the Sheriff. She noted the deputies shifting into position and hoped they weren’t clearing the way too obviously for her… She started running at Lappinean speed and with the slightly zigzag tactic natural to her people as the deputies started firing on the front of the building. Even so, energy bolts struck out at her as she cleared the line, one scorching across her side, striking the armour a glancing blow as a second went through the meat of her left leg, almost toppling her. She dove for the fallen Officer, not even knowing if he was alive or not. “Groal,” she called, “NOW!”

She arrived on the floor of the transport booth, her hand on the bloody wound of a fallen Mican as Barleycorn strode across with a nurse and stretcher. “Out of the way, Jaqui,” the Doctor told the chief, “let the Mican see the Mican.” She pushed the Lappinean off, not seeing the leg wound until Jaqui yelped. “Karla,” she told the engineer, “get Doctor Fuze up here for Jaqui. Kella, help me get the detective on the gurney.” She made sure the detective could be moved before the pair handled him onto the mobile bed.
“Welcome back, Jaqui,” Pangal breathed as she sat on the dais, wincing at the wound. “Ow.”
“Don’t even think about getting that first aid kit, Chief,” Doctor Fuze said, hurtling into the bay with his own kit. “Hmmm,” he mused, looking at the wound and running his scanner over it, “pretty much a through and through burn. Nice hole but it cauterised itself on the way through. I can get you sorted no trouble. You want to walk or should Mr muscles here carry you?”
She looked at the pair of them. “First thing to do,” she told them, “is contact Sheriff Barley and tell him…”
“Do it whilst walking,” Fuze ordered, helping the Chief up to her feet. She took a step and almost fell over again, feeling the pain intensely. “Muscles,” Fuze said, grinning at Groal, “think you’re up.”
Jaqui cursed as the smelly Celican picked her up in his arms and walked as though she weighed nothing. She got on the comm to Barley.

Katara looked up as the trio headed past and looked over at Januvitshi. “Did they forget to declare some sort of incident, you reckon, Jan?”
The Human closed the panel she’d been working on before answering. “Well, I didn’t recognise the Mican,” she offered, “and the chief’s wearing Micannan gear…”
“Oh, you noticed that, eh,” Katara said, picking up her tools.
“It was written all over her chest.”
“Think the Chief’s betrothed’ll mind him being that close with another Lappinean?”
“His what,” Januvitski asked, picking up her kit.
“He’s got an old bunny back on Cora II,” the Vixen advised as they headed for the break room. “Think it’s intense. They’re planning on getting mated officially.”
“How do you know that?”
The Vixen sniffed. “A Vixen knows these things. He’s trying to get close to male Celicans,” she grinned. “and he’s mucking it up right royally. The only reason he might try is he needs one of us at his side for the ceremony to be official.” She nudged her Human friend with an elbow as she selected a Shepherd’s pie and Coffee, almost making her order a Hot Chocolate instead.
“Is he going to try you,” Jan asked as she picked up her food.
“He knows I don’t think much of him,” Katara countered. “But I could do it. If he gets desperate enough to ask.” She tapped in the codes for a Celican cooked food and a bludjooce to drink. “There’s nothing to stop Vixens doing it,” she continued, taking her selection to the table. “But I doubt he’ll ask.”

Hawle sighed. He’d specifically requested no comms calls when he was in conference with the President as it was… well, it was rude mainly but, here he was, engaging his comm after people had contacted people and he had to find out why. Leith had taken a call from the Admiral that indicated someone had done something unauthorised and now he was being held to account. “Hawle to Loper,” he said.”
<”Raven here, Commander,”> the mighty Burman replied. <”What’s the trouble?”>
“Why am I just being informed that you beamed something up from the planet a few moments ago? You are on speaker with the President, by the way.”
He could almost hear her standing straighter and, probably, brushing imaginary crumbs off her uniform before answering. <”A call from Chief Pangal, sir. Apparently a detective was under fire and pinned down at a house. Multiple assailants. She volunteered to save him by running into the killzone and getting him ‘ported out.”>
Hawle rolled his eyes. “She would. Are they alive?”
<”Jaqui is. She took one in the leg. Barleycorn’s trying to save the detective now.”>
“Has he told you the Detective’s chances,” Leith asked urgently.
<”I haven’t had a chance to ask her,”> Raven replied, seamlessly correcting the President. <”The situation is ongoing. Shall I send a team?”>
Hawle looked to the others. He noticed they seemed to be very interested in what he was planning on saying. “Only if it turns out the events are linked to the main situation. If it turns out to be a local situation, we need to wait on an official request. Keep us advised.” He closed the link as Coldstream started making enquiries on his own comms.
“I take it armed seiges aren’t normal here,” Hawle sighed. “Conspiratorially, this may well be no accidental timing.”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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