Justric

The Last Kings of Orion

I should have a post up for Jack later tonight!

The Last Kings of Orion

Just remember, Roadrash. Technology is anything that is supposed to make your life easy and full of wonder... and promptly fails to do so. All the same, good post, man!

The Last Kings of Orion

Right now, Jack is waiting on Big Bill. Hob, in the meantime, is in a meeting with Naomi and Officer Harris.

I'm fighting the desire to create a third character just to keep the ball rolling...

The Last Kings of Orion

Four days is just too long. If someone doesn't post soon, withdrawal's going to kick in, and it's not a pretty sight, believe me! Pink elephants and little frogs in funny hats all over the place.

The Last Kings of Orion

Dotcom - I would have to argue with you on said point of being "uncool", an alternative term for "not cool". You see, you are "Dotcom" not "Notcom" If you were "Notcom" then you would be "Notcool" by way of not being "Dotcom". That is obviously not the case as I have already addressed you by "Dotcom." Q.E.D. Thus, since you are not "Notcom" and therefore not "Notcool" then you must be "Dotcom" and therefore "Dotcool."

By now, I have either confused you, put a smile on your face, and/or convinced you that, yes, indeed, I did fail Logic & Philosophy. The latter should not surprise anyone who is aware of the fact that I learned most of what I know of Philosophy not from the classroom but from Monty Python.

The Last Kings of Orion

Is that why you're wearing that tin foil hat?

The Last Kings of Orion

Or maybe someone's covering something up?

The Last Kings of Orion

Hob found Yuriko and Charlie waiting for him when he trooped back up to the central "office" they worked from. It was less of an actual office of any sort and more a replica of Stonehenge in which they gathered to meet and compared notes. Yuriko shot him a dark glance as he returned. Charlie said nothing, knowing that there was nothing he could say that either Yuriko would approve of or that Hob would listen to in regards to OLGA; his counsel was his own on that matter, for which Hob was thankful. Wordlessly, Hob sat down on a boulder and summoned up the last Shift's reports to read through them. The other two members of his Watch were doing the same. For several cycles, they passed the time in silence, the other two finishing first and waiting patiently for Hob to catch up.

Hob took his time. Not to spite his co-workers but to try and better comprehend what it was he was reading. Eventually, he dismissed his tablet and stared back at them. "So," he finally ventured, "anyone else confused by this?"

'This' was the fact that the Second Shift's reports were... well... crap. Especially compared to the meticulous notes that First Shift had left! Hob was hardly the most organized of people, but even he could tell that the last team's work was sloppy if not downright useless. There were huge time gaps that were simply glossed over, multiple re-edits that obscured the original entries, and correlations that made little or no sense. He could credit them that they were understaffed and under pressure but only so far!

The logs regarding the cryo-stasis beds were the worse. Paging back through the reports and the time frame of events, it looked as though they had started to have problems just before the murders took place. There was nothing documenting what might have caused Jean-Paul's sudden psychosis, nothing as to what genius had ordered that Amber be put in his place, and only the briefest reference to the events leading up to Sung Pak's lock up. Just that there was some altercation between him and Amber, was all. There should have at least been an activity report as to what Sung Pak had been doing at the time and 'where' he had been in the system. The reports were totally unenlightening as to any of it.

"That's not the strangest part," offered Charlie somberly, "Remember how Harris was chewing your ass about your Ghosts, son? Take a look at Val's last entry."

Hob scowled, not sure he wanted to be reminded about Val at the moment. The teenager liked to prance around naked and green like a forest nymph, how the fuck was he not going to notice that?? Reluctantly, he resummoned the tablet and ran through Val's notes until he came to the last entry. It made even less sense.

"So where are they?" Hob demanded. He looked up to Yuriko first, freely acknowledging her as the smartest of the team. "No Ghosts appeared after the first year on duty? Impossible! Even First Shift left their mark on the system! Hell, I'm pretty sure I just generated two or three of my own since we logged in! So where are they?"

To his chagrin, Yuriko only shrugged. Hob swore vehemently under his breath as he dismissed the simulated tablet and crossed his arms in frustration. "Fuck. What the hell use is Eden without its snakes?" Charlie chuckled.

Rising, Hob scratched his ass and sighed. "Charlie, leave the report for the next Watch, let them know what we... didn't find. Yuriko, can you take over the Ghost thing? Mind you, I'm just as glad we don't have to deal with them, but if they're still around somewhere we need to find them before they glitch something important."

"Where are you headed?" Yuriko rose as well, straightening her grey sweat suit while keeping her eyes on her eccentric Watch leader.

"Cryo-Stasis," he replied flatly. "I want to take a better look at the logs and the memory caches before we log out today. Near as I can tell, no one last Shift bothered which given the murders is pretty damn strange. Almost as strange as the rest of this."

Yuriko bite her lower lip, glancing away as if deciding something and then catching Hob's eye again. "Harris and the monitoring techs want a meeting. As soon as we're logged out. The message came in while you were off with Galatea."

Hob was brought up short, his temper flaring. "What?! Why the fuck for?! They can read our reports, that's what they always do!"

She shook her head, the long black hair shaking out behind her. "Part of the new procedures. They want to evaluate us right away, I guess. To check both our psyche profiles and to make sure we whatever we put in the report matches what we say. I have no idea when they expect us to sleep or eat, at this rate, Hob." Yuriko's delicate Asian features looked troubled, and she raised her hands to rub at the silver studs on either temple. "I don't know how much more I can take of this, Hob. I know they must have reasons for doing what they're doing, but... I'm starting to wonder how many rights we still have."

Charlie gave an ugly laugh, the dark skin of his avatar glinting with sweat. "Honey, welcome to the ghetto."

Never Lose Your Hat!

Jötz grimaced when she mentioned clanks, forcing himself to close his eyes and count to ten mentally before sighing and sauntering over to the door. Almost casually, he pushed it open to stare down the corridor back towards the engine room. His green lips pursed around his fangs. Nodding judiciously, he closed the door and leaned against it to look at Ivy.

“Vell, vetter der ist s’posed ta be clanks or not, der’s some der,” he calmly announced. Jötz decided to skip that they were on all fours and vaguely doglike but with much bigger fangs. He doubted they actually needed to eat, which meant the huge teeth had some other purpose than dining. Ripping and tearing meat probably still come into play somewhere along the line. The three clanks he had seen looked old, their brass and bronze heavily coated in a green patina and their joints moving stiffly. Water was still dripping off of them; they must have pulled themselves up from the bottom of the canal, he reasoned. Jötz couldn’t recall seeing anything quite like them before, which was slightly concerning. Still, they had joints! Joints were weaknesses to be exploited, or so he had been taught by both fellow Jaegers and by experience. If there were only three, he was pretty sure he could take them.

Pulling out his four barreled gun, he checked the magazine. Jötz clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Not too many rounds left,” he mused professionally, “Might have ta go hand ta hand mit dem, und stretch da old muskles.” The Jaeger flexed his biceps unconsciously, a wicked grin playing about his fangs at just the thought of it. It had been a while since he had truly cut loose. He had avoided taking on the toads head to head for Ivy’s sake, a good decision in hindsight now that they knew what one of those poison teeth could do to someone! Wrestling clanks was dangerous, but it was also a challenge!

Jötz glanced at the young Ivy. Would she be impressed? That was the real concern. Because if there was anything better than a death-defying challenge, it was a death-defying challenge to impress a pretty young maiden!

“Chou stay here und get some read-ink done, hokay?” He set the gun on the desk besides her with a smirk. Flexing his talons, the smirk became an outright evil grin. “I go handle dis, den ve get on mit stuff. Shouldn’t take too long, Hy tink.”

“No. No, it won’t, actually.” The voice was thin and reedy, more a whisper than anything else. A skeletal hand reached across and neatly plucked the pistol off the desk to cover both Ivy and the Jaeger. The mummified corpse in the chair moved as stiffly as the clank-hounds outside, but move it did. Hollow eye sockets seemed to still see them both clearly, a faint orange glow showing in their depths now. “I might just be skin and bones, but my mother always said that looks aren’t everything.”

Turning slightly in the chair to face Ivy, a ghastly chuckle hissed passed the rotted teeth. “I’m glad you’re able to read my code, my dear. I’ve been waiting for someone who could for an awfully long time!”

The door swung open slowly to reveal the three large clank-hounds. They had crept up closer to the room as the corpse of the pirate captain leaved the Jaeger’s pistol at his new captives. Jötz slowly backed up until he was right in front of Ivy, half shielding her from any attack that might come from either corner. He felt like a right chump.

The dead pirate continued chatting pleasantly to Ivy, ignoring the Jaeger. “That you’re young and comely is a plus,” he was commenting. “Shame about the arm, but, well, there’s a precedent for pirates having hooks for hands.”

The Last Kings of Orion

(Chuckling in self-depreciation). At the slow rate that I'm posting these days, enough IC time might pass by the time we finish!

But whenever you feel it's best, of course! You know me: always willing to bend my head to your superior arts and beauty!