Shaal Mayan
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
And you keep leaving us hanging for the next installment Thanks .
And you keep leaving us hanging for the next installment Thanks .
-
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Rangers Redux (fiction)
- Thread starter channe
- Start date
Shaal Mayan
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
A good writer is to keep her readers guessing and right now I have no clue.Except for one thing I will say Malcolm seems like his heart has been torn in two by Firell and her words.
A good writer is to keep her readers guessing and right now I have no clue.Except for one thing I will say Malcolm seems like his heart has been torn in two by Firell and her words.
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Certain incomplete admissions, carefully formulated in quite Minbari fashion, increasngly confirmed suspicions, one provocation which may yield results...
I am no expert... but I think I recognized some bits.
Certain incomplete admissions, carefully formulated in quite Minbari fashion, increasngly confirmed suspicions, one provocation which may yield results...
Re: Rangers Redux
This, I hope, provides a different view of the stupid weapons-pod scenes.
----
Sarah fell.
Milliseconds later, the familiar antigravity system kicked in. She was jolted, cinched into place by an invisible, nonexistent harness. The cross-hatched, egg-shaped walls around her flashed into operation, plunging her fragile flesh into the deep darkness of space, courtesy the Liandra's sophisticated armored-sensor databanks.
As always, she found herself not breathing -- afraid for a moment or two that she'd been cast into the ultimate coldness, that in a moment her blood vessels would burst and she'd die --
Sarah shook the feeling away and hailed the computer, rattling off a set of coordinates. A flash of total blackness -- and she found herself at the centerpoint of the Beta Durani system, her torso the star itself.
She located the seventh planet and brought her thumb up in front. It was so small, at this length, that she obliterated it behind her fingernail.
She laughed softly and loaded her favorite program. In a moment, Shadow ships burst into life around her, wheeling and screaming, grazing her legs and attacking her heart. She moved in a set of rollovers, quick-hits, and doubles, and then called the computer to up the level of difficulty to what she called middle-finger combos. And more, and more, until she was multi-tasking, fire cannoning out of her feet while each finger let loose quick, bright death against the blackness.
She'd come to the Rangers through a barfight -- one of the best she'd ever had, in her own humble opinion. She'd been extremely depressed, she'd just come off work at Mario's and stopped by her favorite nightspot -- only to see her boyfriend at the time stuck in an alleyway, having -- relations -- with another woman entirely.
After she'd been kicked out and arrested by police for assault, a strange woman -- one she'd recognized from the bar -- paid her bail in return for "hearing her out." That woman had seen her fight, had wanted to recruit her for the Rangers -- and Sarah, stuck in a dead-end, poverty-line waitressing job with no prospects of furtherance, committed to a faithless boyfriend, found, instead, in committing to the Anla'shok, in serving Sheridan, Delenn, and the cause -- found a new lease on life.
An Anla'shok gunner, she'd learned quickly after her trainers pointed her in that direction, needed to be incredibly flexible and amazingly nimble. Gunners working in weapons pods weren't always the best planetary hand-to-hand fighters -- instead, they were antigrav gymnasts, balanced, aware and in control of each motion. They fed on adrenaline, channeled their fear into each motion of each finger, each kick, each whirl. Amongst their ranks, they often referred to themselves by the ship's name, because, in the breathless giddiness of battle, they were the ship -- Sarah was Liandra, wheeling and twisting in the great expanse.
But nothing scared her anymore. Nothing, since Sector 83, since her first encounter with Shadows from the vantage point of the Enfalli weapons pod, where she felt her body laid up and sacrificed on the altar, cut through and destroyed by Shadowfire.
"Sarah?" Martel's voice, on the comm, was all business. Breathing heavily, she shut down the sim and answered.
"Yes, Captain?" she asked.
Martel paused for a moment before answering. "We're here. Be ready."
This, I hope, provides a different view of the stupid weapons-pod scenes.
----
Sarah fell.
Milliseconds later, the familiar antigravity system kicked in. She was jolted, cinched into place by an invisible, nonexistent harness. The cross-hatched, egg-shaped walls around her flashed into operation, plunging her fragile flesh into the deep darkness of space, courtesy the Liandra's sophisticated armored-sensor databanks.
As always, she found herself not breathing -- afraid for a moment or two that she'd been cast into the ultimate coldness, that in a moment her blood vessels would burst and she'd die --
Sarah shook the feeling away and hailed the computer, rattling off a set of coordinates. A flash of total blackness -- and she found herself at the centerpoint of the Beta Durani system, her torso the star itself.
She located the seventh planet and brought her thumb up in front. It was so small, at this length, that she obliterated it behind her fingernail.
She laughed softly and loaded her favorite program. In a moment, Shadow ships burst into life around her, wheeling and screaming, grazing her legs and attacking her heart. She moved in a set of rollovers, quick-hits, and doubles, and then called the computer to up the level of difficulty to what she called middle-finger combos. And more, and more, until she was multi-tasking, fire cannoning out of her feet while each finger let loose quick, bright death against the blackness.
She'd come to the Rangers through a barfight -- one of the best she'd ever had, in her own humble opinion. She'd been extremely depressed, she'd just come off work at Mario's and stopped by her favorite nightspot -- only to see her boyfriend at the time stuck in an alleyway, having -- relations -- with another woman entirely.
After she'd been kicked out and arrested by police for assault, a strange woman -- one she'd recognized from the bar -- paid her bail in return for "hearing her out." That woman had seen her fight, had wanted to recruit her for the Rangers -- and Sarah, stuck in a dead-end, poverty-line waitressing job with no prospects of furtherance, committed to a faithless boyfriend, found, instead, in committing to the Anla'shok, in serving Sheridan, Delenn, and the cause -- found a new lease on life.
An Anla'shok gunner, she'd learned quickly after her trainers pointed her in that direction, needed to be incredibly flexible and amazingly nimble. Gunners working in weapons pods weren't always the best planetary hand-to-hand fighters -- instead, they were antigrav gymnasts, balanced, aware and in control of each motion. They fed on adrenaline, channeled their fear into each motion of each finger, each kick, each whirl. Amongst their ranks, they often referred to themselves by the ship's name, because, in the breathless giddiness of battle, they were the ship -- Sarah was Liandra, wheeling and twisting in the great expanse.
But nothing scared her anymore. Nothing, since Sector 83, since her first encounter with Shadows from the vantage point of the Enfalli weapons pod, where she felt her body laid up and sacrificed on the altar, cut through and destroyed by Shadowfire.
"Sarah?" Martel's voice, on the comm, was all business. Breathing heavily, she shut down the sim and answered.
"Yes, Captain?" she asked.
Martel paused for a moment before answering. "We're here. Be ready."
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Many thanks!
Many thanks!
Re: Rangers Redux
When faced with unknown or precarious situations, David always liked to be as prepared as humanly possible. This was why he kept on adjusting his position in the captain's chair, tapping his fingers on the center controls nervously, chewing his bottom lip into raw meat, and, generally, feeling quite nauseous.
Malcolm had indeed submitted a report -- a paltry, sparse report padded with a number of facts he'd already known. Sarah had been running different permutations of the Hand scenario, and in each of the separate instances the Liandra had been converted into cinders despite her best efforts towards the contrary. His star witness was dead, his Ranger Council emissary was frowning, and, dammit, he was hungry.
His stomach rumbled. The sound was lost in the swishing of the main door, which was in the process of ejecting most of his senior staff -- Na'feel, carrying datacrystal diagrams; Kitaro, back from the head; the others, their faces a curious mixture of trepidation and bravado.
Martel took a deep breath and told himself one more time that it wasn't as bad as it felt.
Singh was already sitting at the flat gunnery, where Sarah would have been had she not been already in the weapons pod (better safe than sorry, Martel had decided). The others attended to their stations quickly, looking up from their preparations only as Martel stood, calling up a three-dimensional diagram, vertical and horizontal lines describing the buildings and borders of the former Beta Durani archaeological dig site.
When faced with unknown or precarious situations, David always liked to be as prepared as humanly possible. This was why he kept on adjusting his position in the captain's chair, tapping his fingers on the center controls nervously, chewing his bottom lip into raw meat, and, generally, feeling quite nauseous.
Malcolm had indeed submitted a report -- a paltry, sparse report padded with a number of facts he'd already known. Sarah had been running different permutations of the Hand scenario, and in each of the separate instances the Liandra had been converted into cinders despite her best efforts towards the contrary. His star witness was dead, his Ranger Council emissary was frowning, and, dammit, he was hungry.
His stomach rumbled. The sound was lost in the swishing of the main door, which was in the process of ejecting most of his senior staff -- Na'feel, carrying datacrystal diagrams; Kitaro, back from the head; the others, their faces a curious mixture of trepidation and bravado.
Martel took a deep breath and told himself one more time that it wasn't as bad as it felt.
Singh was already sitting at the flat gunnery, where Sarah would have been had she not been already in the weapons pod (better safe than sorry, Martel had decided). The others attended to their stations quickly, looking up from their preparations only as Martel stood, calling up a three-dimensional diagram, vertical and horizontal lines describing the buildings and borders of the former Beta Durani archaeological dig site.
Re: Rangers Redux
Martel spent a few agonizing minutes figuring out who to send on the mission itself.
Na'feel would go, of course -- if there was anyone with enough knowledge and experience to do the job, deal with unseen complications, and get out alive, it was her. He had wanted to send Malcolm as leader before he'd submitted the awful final report, but at this point he wasn't sure the covert ops officer had done enough to prepare. He sighed, putting Dulann in Malcolm's place.
Kitaro he kept on-ship as a precaution; Firell, as well, although he made a note for the Minbari doctor to send along her nurse, who had significant ground combat triage experience. Tirk he sent, thinking his strength would be useful. Singh, also, was to go. He tapped Lawler and Sarann from Engineering, as well; Lawler had been a hacker in his pre-Ranger life. Martel himself was to stay aboard ship; captains in the Rangers, like in Earthforce, belonged on the bridge.
He made the assignments to his assembled staff -- which, this time, included a decidedly nervous Chris Kent, a plain-faced Sarann, and an attentive Jean Corley, all standing behind the senior officers. He finished, paused, and folded his hands.
"Questions?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Malcolm looked as if he wanted to say something; he opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again for one silent moment before shaking his head and settling back into his chair, looking decidedly peeved and staring daggers at Dulann.
"Yes, Malcolm?" Martel asked.
The intelligence officer shook his head. "Nothing, Captain."
Martel grinned thinly. "Are you sure?"
Malcolm shot a look at Dulann again; the placid Minbari remained looking at Martel -- blissfully ignorant, or at least pretending he was so. David thought for a moment Malcolm would assent, knowing by intimation that he hadn't thought his subordinate's work was good enough to land him a position on the mission party, and was surprised when Malcolm clarified his position.
"I understood earlier, sir, that I -- that I was supposed to lead this mission," Malcolm said, speaking slowly, controlling his voice.
Kitaro had caught on; he pursed his lips, bracing for impact. If he hadn't been required to pay attention, now would have been the time he would have returned to his work, pretending he didn't notice the coming altercation.
Martel sighed. "You're not. We need to move on. If you want to take my decisions up with me, please see me after the briefing. Now, the mission will --"
"And I'm doing... what?" piped Sarah, her disembodied voice coming from a local speaker.
"You're --" Martel peered down at the flimsy. Cantrell's name wasn't listed.
"-- on-ship, manning the gunnery," Martel said, quickly, coming to a snap decision. "We'll need you here."
"Yes, sir," said Sarah quickly -- too quickly, and definitely with a hint of anger.
He knew what she'd be thinking -- how dare he send junior officers when I'm perfectly able to do this -- but he knew he had his reasons.
Only, he found, he wasn't too sure as to what they were.
Martel reminded himself internally that it was his right and duty to make unpopular decisions, and plowed on into the remainder of the briefing.
Martel spent a few agonizing minutes figuring out who to send on the mission itself.
Na'feel would go, of course -- if there was anyone with enough knowledge and experience to do the job, deal with unseen complications, and get out alive, it was her. He had wanted to send Malcolm as leader before he'd submitted the awful final report, but at this point he wasn't sure the covert ops officer had done enough to prepare. He sighed, putting Dulann in Malcolm's place.
Kitaro he kept on-ship as a precaution; Firell, as well, although he made a note for the Minbari doctor to send along her nurse, who had significant ground combat triage experience. Tirk he sent, thinking his strength would be useful. Singh, also, was to go. He tapped Lawler and Sarann from Engineering, as well; Lawler had been a hacker in his pre-Ranger life. Martel himself was to stay aboard ship; captains in the Rangers, like in Earthforce, belonged on the bridge.
He made the assignments to his assembled staff -- which, this time, included a decidedly nervous Chris Kent, a plain-faced Sarann, and an attentive Jean Corley, all standing behind the senior officers. He finished, paused, and folded his hands.
"Questions?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Malcolm looked as if he wanted to say something; he opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again for one silent moment before shaking his head and settling back into his chair, looking decidedly peeved and staring daggers at Dulann.
"Yes, Malcolm?" Martel asked.
The intelligence officer shook his head. "Nothing, Captain."
Martel grinned thinly. "Are you sure?"
Malcolm shot a look at Dulann again; the placid Minbari remained looking at Martel -- blissfully ignorant, or at least pretending he was so. David thought for a moment Malcolm would assent, knowing by intimation that he hadn't thought his subordinate's work was good enough to land him a position on the mission party, and was surprised when Malcolm clarified his position.
"I understood earlier, sir, that I -- that I was supposed to lead this mission," Malcolm said, speaking slowly, controlling his voice.
Kitaro had caught on; he pursed his lips, bracing for impact. If he hadn't been required to pay attention, now would have been the time he would have returned to his work, pretending he didn't notice the coming altercation.
Martel sighed. "You're not. We need to move on. If you want to take my decisions up with me, please see me after the briefing. Now, the mission will --"
"And I'm doing... what?" piped Sarah, her disembodied voice coming from a local speaker.
"You're --" Martel peered down at the flimsy. Cantrell's name wasn't listed.
"-- on-ship, manning the gunnery," Martel said, quickly, coming to a snap decision. "We'll need you here."
"Yes, sir," said Sarah quickly -- too quickly, and definitely with a hint of anger.
He knew what she'd be thinking -- how dare he send junior officers when I'm perfectly able to do this -- but he knew he had his reasons.
Only, he found, he wasn't too sure as to what they were.
Martel reminded himself internally that it was his right and duty to make unpopular decisions, and plowed on into the remainder of the briefing.
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Thank you! Quite wonderful fragments of story. Most interesting reading, despite my limited time for reading anything (the temporary jump in demand is mostly dealt with, but incomlete projects are still too numerous).
Thank you!
Quite wonderful fragments of story. Most interesting reading, despite my limited time for reading anything (the temporary jump in demand is mostly dealt with, but incomlete projects are still too numerous).Re: Rangers Redux
Surprisingly, Kitaro found a decent parking spot only a few hundred meters from the projected entrance point. The Liandra needed very little level space to land, and a corner of the formerly massive colony launchpad did the trick quite well; Kitaro set her down quietly among the jagged, towering edges of metal-bound asphacrete, sent sailing towards the sky with the impact of Hand missiles.
"Nice as usual," Martel said to Kitaro, who was finding it hard not to beam -- he was hiding a smile behind an uplifted hand. Martel straightened in his chair as Sarah climbed out of the gunnery, a firm look set on her face.
"Sarah, while we're here, I want you attempting to locate and analyze -- from the ship, I don't want any contact, because we have no idea what we're dealing with -- any sign of Hand technology, especially weaponry. Grab Malcolm and make it happen. I don't want to leave here without some decent readings," he said.
Sarah nodded, and looked toward Malcolm, whose attention was divided between his station and his captain. He nodded and spent one more second typing before rising and beckoning Sarah over. Martel was about to join them when the intercom came to life.
"Bridge, this is Dulann," crackled a local speaker -- Martel noted the static with some displeasure. "We're ready to go. We'd appreciate it if you'd give the order."
Martel leaned forward and pressed a few buttons; in front of him sprang a three-dimensional view of the cargo bay, where Dulann and the rest of his team were outfitted in radiation tightsuits and covered with climbing gear. In back, the hacker Lawler loaded a number of instruments into a carrybelt.
"All right. Go," said Martel.
"For the One," replied Dulann, and the viewfinder went blank as the bay door opened behind him, natural light spilling into the cavity.
Surprisingly, Kitaro found a decent parking spot only a few hundred meters from the projected entrance point. The Liandra needed very little level space to land, and a corner of the formerly massive colony launchpad did the trick quite well; Kitaro set her down quietly among the jagged, towering edges of metal-bound asphacrete, sent sailing towards the sky with the impact of Hand missiles.
"Nice as usual," Martel said to Kitaro, who was finding it hard not to beam -- he was hiding a smile behind an uplifted hand. Martel straightened in his chair as Sarah climbed out of the gunnery, a firm look set on her face.
"Sarah, while we're here, I want you attempting to locate and analyze -- from the ship, I don't want any contact, because we have no idea what we're dealing with -- any sign of Hand technology, especially weaponry. Grab Malcolm and make it happen. I don't want to leave here without some decent readings," he said.
Sarah nodded, and looked toward Malcolm, whose attention was divided between his station and his captain. He nodded and spent one more second typing before rising and beckoning Sarah over. Martel was about to join them when the intercom came to life.
"Bridge, this is Dulann," crackled a local speaker -- Martel noted the static with some displeasure. "We're ready to go. We'd appreciate it if you'd give the order."
Martel leaned forward and pressed a few buttons; in front of him sprang a three-dimensional view of the cargo bay, where Dulann and the rest of his team were outfitted in radiation tightsuits and covered with climbing gear. In back, the hacker Lawler loaded a number of instruments into a carrybelt.
"All right. Go," said Martel.
"For the One," replied Dulann, and the viewfinder went blank as the bay door opened behind him, natural light spilling into the cavity.
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Thank you!
An interesting fragment to this puzzle.
I wonder how it goes.
Thank you!
An interesting fragment to this puzzle.
I wonder how it goes.
Re: Rangers Redux
RW -- Sure it is. Tell your friends.
--
The planet stank.
That was Na'feel's first estimation as the team walked into the bright sunshine. It stank like a norgo that was three days dead; stank like a mattress in a portside whorehouse; the ground, the air, the heat -- replete with awful smells Na'feel swore were new to her nose, smells that weren't filtered through the suit's breather.
"Ungh," said Lawler, at the exact same time that Sarann began to vomit.
Na'feel turned, noting with a certain twisted pleasure that she'd never seen a Minbari vomit before. The nurse, Jean, was at his side in a jiffy, with a scanner. She hummed with displeasure as Lawler turned a way, a hand reflexively put to his mouth. Dulann came to the tech's side, kneeling to look up at his face.
"Sarann. Are you all right?" he said.
Sarann nodded, silent.
"You'll have to go back," she said, turning to Dulann. "Sir, he can't go like this."
Sarann stayed silent and bent double; Na'feel felt a twinge of pity for the young Minbari, who would be most likely be feeling rather uncomfortable at the moment. Lawler made a disgusted noise.
Dulann straightened. "Liandra, this is Dulann," he said. "Captain, Sarann is sick. We" -- here it seemed like Dulann hiccupped -- "will need a replacement."
A moment passed, and then came Martel's dissapproving voice. "I'll be sending Kitaro. Have Sarann report directly to the infirmary. Martel out."
Dulann leaned over, helped the Minbari to straighten, and then sent him on his way back up the Liandra gangplank.
RW -- Sure it is. Tell your friends.
--
The planet stank.
That was Na'feel's first estimation as the team walked into the bright sunshine. It stank like a norgo that was three days dead; stank like a mattress in a portside whorehouse; the ground, the air, the heat -- replete with awful smells Na'feel swore were new to her nose, smells that weren't filtered through the suit's breather.
"Ungh," said Lawler, at the exact same time that Sarann began to vomit.
Na'feel turned, noting with a certain twisted pleasure that she'd never seen a Minbari vomit before. The nurse, Jean, was at his side in a jiffy, with a scanner. She hummed with displeasure as Lawler turned a way, a hand reflexively put to his mouth. Dulann came to the tech's side, kneeling to look up at his face.
"Sarann. Are you all right?" he said.
Sarann nodded, silent.
"You'll have to go back," she said, turning to Dulann. "Sir, he can't go like this."
Sarann stayed silent and bent double; Na'feel felt a twinge of pity for the young Minbari, who would be most likely be feeling rather uncomfortable at the moment. Lawler made a disgusted noise.
Dulann straightened. "Liandra, this is Dulann," he said. "Captain, Sarann is sick. We" -- here it seemed like Dulann hiccupped -- "will need a replacement."
A moment passed, and then came Martel's dissapproving voice. "I'll be sending Kitaro. Have Sarann report directly to the infirmary. Martel out."
Dulann leaned over, helped the Minbari to straighten, and then sent him on his way back up the Liandra gangplank.
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Thank you!
(Some speculation follows. If you feel it might be better located in another thread, just mention -- I would not wish to generate any inadverent spoilers even if I could. )
.
.
.
.
.
So... at least it was a habitable planet -- possible to endure with a simple breather, as opposed to bringing a full space suit (which is arguably worse to drag along than a bad stomach).
Still... whatever was poorly filtered... must have *interesting* properties, affecting in roughly similar fashion three quite different species -- Narn, Minbari and Human.
This could be either by massive coincidence... or by design. I wonder *what* exactly the research colony was attacked with?
Thank you!
(Some speculation follows. If you feel it might be better located in another thread, just mention -- I would not wish to generate any inadverent spoilers even if I could. )
.
.
.
.
.
So... at least it was a habitable planet -- possible to endure with a simple breather, as opposed to bringing a full space suit (which is arguably worse to drag along than a bad stomach).
Still... whatever was poorly filtered... must have *interesting* properties, affecting in roughly similar fashion three quite different species -- Narn, Minbari and Human.
This could be either by massive coincidence... or by design. I wonder *what* exactly the research colony was attacked with?
Re: Rangers Redux
No, speculation's fine, but I'm not going to comment on yours quite yet!
Here's the issue: I've made some significant revisions to the new-and-improved revised prose versions of Redux that may change what I write here in the future. So I'm not going to write too far ahead until those new-and-improved versions are published -- things may get changed and I don't want to scrap large swaths of prose or lead you on in the opposite direction.
There are two sites that will carry the Brave New Redux: B5TV, and one other to be announced.
It's been about a year since the process started here at B5TV so it shouldn't be THAT much longer...
No, speculation's fine, but I'm not going to comment on yours quite yet!
Here's the issue: I've made some significant revisions to the new-and-improved revised prose versions of Redux that may change what I write here in the future. So I'm not going to write too far ahead until those new-and-improved versions are published -- things may get changed and I don't want to scrap large swaths of prose or lead you on in the opposite direction.
There are two sites that will carry the Brave New Redux: B5TV, and one other to be announced.
It's been about a year since the process started here at B5TV so it shouldn't be THAT much longer...
Re: Rangers Redux
Jannie -- yes, JumpNow is one of them. At this point, it's been over a year and four months since Antony first agreed to print Redux. At this point... Heh. So I'll just go on right here (and this time, I promise, I'll post more. Like... almost every day. I miss it and want to know what happens. Anybody still reading?)
--
So it was that Kitaro joined the ground crew.
Hde felt a curious mixture of excitement and trepidation as he was zipped into his radiation suit. Someone clipped a utility belt around his waist -- he looked down to regard it, noting with an intake of breath that his stave and his gun were placed there alongside diagnostic equipment and other tools -- and pushed him forward with a muttered "good luck, Kit."
He passed Sarann on the way down. The Minbari, who was an incredibly vibrant shade of green, nodded weakly at him; he waved. And then, impossibly, he was on the planet's surface. He began walking towards the loosely-organized set of radiation suits about a hundred meters away -- at this length, he couldn't tell who was who -- and nearly stumbled in his jubiliation.
Mum, if you could see me now -- I'm on a ground crew!, he thought, just as a wave of nausea overtook him. He clutched at his stomach and doubled over. One of the suits disengaged and jogged over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The other reached up to throw a switch located on his arm panel.
"I just switched on your secondary air filters. You should be feeling better in no time. It's still gonna smell a little, so try not to breathe through your nose if it bothers you," said Jean, her kindly face looking at his and her voice in his earbud and helmet speakers.
"Aw, the kid didn't throw up?" said Na'feel in a mock-disappointed voice.
"I heard that," said another disembodied voice -- Martel's sternly, through the earbud. Kitaro felt disoriented -- it was like hearing the voice of God, or at least being on the old-style telephone his grandfather used to keep in his house for calling Great-Aunt Noriko.
Dulann cleared his throat as Kitaro joined the others. He pointed toward the beehive-cluster in the distance -- he decided not to call them "buildings," for what they looked like was eggshells, cracked and thrown about, their contents spilled and leaking among the dirt and dust of the planet's surface. There would have been no survivors, he realized with a sinking spirit.
"If we're extremely lucky," noted Dulann with his signature calmness, "we may see bodies. Due to the atmosphere, they may be in differing stages of decomposition than we are used to. If so, we will stop for Jean to take the proper readings."
Now Kitaro really felt like vomiting.
Jannie -- yes, JumpNow is one of them. At this point, it's been over a year and four months since Antony first agreed to print Redux. At this point... Heh. So I'll just go on right here (and this time, I promise, I'll post more. Like... almost every day. I miss it and want to know what happens. Anybody still reading?)
--
So it was that Kitaro joined the ground crew.
Hde felt a curious mixture of excitement and trepidation as he was zipped into his radiation suit. Someone clipped a utility belt around his waist -- he looked down to regard it, noting with an intake of breath that his stave and his gun were placed there alongside diagnostic equipment and other tools -- and pushed him forward with a muttered "good luck, Kit."
He passed Sarann on the way down. The Minbari, who was an incredibly vibrant shade of green, nodded weakly at him; he waved. And then, impossibly, he was on the planet's surface. He began walking towards the loosely-organized set of radiation suits about a hundred meters away -- at this length, he couldn't tell who was who -- and nearly stumbled in his jubiliation.
Mum, if you could see me now -- I'm on a ground crew!, he thought, just as a wave of nausea overtook him. He clutched at his stomach and doubled over. One of the suits disengaged and jogged over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The other reached up to throw a switch located on his arm panel.
"I just switched on your secondary air filters. You should be feeling better in no time. It's still gonna smell a little, so try not to breathe through your nose if it bothers you," said Jean, her kindly face looking at his and her voice in his earbud and helmet speakers.
"Aw, the kid didn't throw up?" said Na'feel in a mock-disappointed voice.
"I heard that," said another disembodied voice -- Martel's sternly, through the earbud. Kitaro felt disoriented -- it was like hearing the voice of God, or at least being on the old-style telephone his grandfather used to keep in his house for calling Great-Aunt Noriko.
Dulann cleared his throat as Kitaro joined the others. He pointed toward the beehive-cluster in the distance -- he decided not to call them "buildings," for what they looked like was eggshells, cracked and thrown about, their contents spilled and leaking among the dirt and dust of the planet's surface. There would have been no survivors, he realized with a sinking spirit.
"If we're extremely lucky," noted Dulann with his signature calmness, "we may see bodies. Due to the atmosphere, they may be in differing stages of decomposition than we are used to. If so, we will stop for Jean to take the proper readings."
Now Kitaro really felt like vomiting.
Re: Rangers Redux
The official entry to the colony -- a set of massive blast doors -- were fixed into a thick, pockmarked wall a few hundred feet away. The ground crew picked their way slowly through unsteady ground toward the fortifications, which rose to a jagged, open apex where the colony dome had once presided.
The only sound was Dulann's voice -- constantly muttering readings for the edification of both the ground crew and the ship -- and a metallic crunching under their feet. The dome, made of a supposedly indestructible transparent alloy from a Beta Colony contractor, had shattered in the Hand attack and fallen to the ground in a quadrillion pieces. They decorated the ground, catching the sunlight at every move, feeling like coarse sand on a sunny beach at the best and broken glass at the worst.
Finally, they reached the complex's passenger door and found it pleasantly open, sheared open by a flying piece of sharp rubble that lay dormant just within the structure.
Na'feel caught a glimpse and shuddered.
"Everything ok?" piped Jean, full of nervous energy.
Na'feel nodded and swallowed bile. "Nothing," she snapped.
Looks like Narn, she thought, her mouth dry. Like Lath after the Centauri came.
The official entry to the colony -- a set of massive blast doors -- were fixed into a thick, pockmarked wall a few hundred feet away. The ground crew picked their way slowly through unsteady ground toward the fortifications, which rose to a jagged, open apex where the colony dome had once presided.
The only sound was Dulann's voice -- constantly muttering readings for the edification of both the ground crew and the ship -- and a metallic crunching under their feet. The dome, made of a supposedly indestructible transparent alloy from a Beta Colony contractor, had shattered in the Hand attack and fallen to the ground in a quadrillion pieces. They decorated the ground, catching the sunlight at every move, feeling like coarse sand on a sunny beach at the best and broken glass at the worst.
Finally, they reached the complex's passenger door and found it pleasantly open, sheared open by a flying piece of sharp rubble that lay dormant just within the structure.
Na'feel caught a glimpse and shuddered.
"Everything ok?" piped Jean, full of nervous energy.
Na'feel nodded and swallowed bile. "Nothing," she snapped.
Looks like Narn, she thought, her mouth dry. Like Lath after the Centauri came.
sleepy_shadow
Regular
Re: Rangers Redux
Many thanks for additional bits of story!
Still reading -- I was merely checking less often.
Many thanks for additional bits of story!
Re: Rangers Redux
On vacay. Back Monday.
I don't know why I make Martel so insecure all the time. Perhaps my natural aversion to Kirk-bravado. But anyway...
--
On the exterior, David Martel appeared to be the poster child for the perfectly-coiffed captain, with every stray hair, emotion, thought and impulse carefully held in check by the same supernatural force that kept his hand on the helm in the face of an oncoming darkness second only to the forces of Hell.
Inside, he was a quivering blob of raspberry preserves left out in the noonday sun to fester and disintegrate.
Despite the cocky assurances he had thrown at Singh in the storage room earlier, he did have his concerns about the mission, which he’d aired with Dulann and the others as they were suiting up only a half-hour ago. Now -- as his exec’s voice occasionally droned comfortingly over the bridge loudspeaker, giving observations and silent guarantees that the ground crew had not, in fact, been swallowed up in a crevasse or slaughtered by a Hand landing party -- Martel waited.
Dulann was perfectly capable of handling most situations thrown his way, Martel knew, but the captain couldn’t help but feel blind, deaf, and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey when thinking about the way this particular situation had turned out.
He cast a glance at Singh, and wasn’t surprised to find himself feeling rather murderous.
“Feeds are up, Captain,” said Malcolm, with an edge to his voice.
On vacay. Back Monday.
I don't know why I make Martel so insecure all the time. Perhaps my natural aversion to Kirk-bravado. But anyway...
--
On the exterior, David Martel appeared to be the poster child for the perfectly-coiffed captain, with every stray hair, emotion, thought and impulse carefully held in check by the same supernatural force that kept his hand on the helm in the face of an oncoming darkness second only to the forces of Hell.
Inside, he was a quivering blob of raspberry preserves left out in the noonday sun to fester and disintegrate.
Despite the cocky assurances he had thrown at Singh in the storage room earlier, he did have his concerns about the mission, which he’d aired with Dulann and the others as they were suiting up only a half-hour ago. Now -- as his exec’s voice occasionally droned comfortingly over the bridge loudspeaker, giving observations and silent guarantees that the ground crew had not, in fact, been swallowed up in a crevasse or slaughtered by a Hand landing party -- Martel waited.
Dulann was perfectly capable of handling most situations thrown his way, Martel knew, but the captain couldn’t help but feel blind, deaf, and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey when thinking about the way this particular situation had turned out.
He cast a glance at Singh, and wasn’t surprised to find himself feeling rather murderous.
“Feeds are up, Captain,” said Malcolm, with an edge to his voice.
