Oolite Bulletins

Paradox heard me outline my plan and agreed to go along with it. He finished working his magic and burning his bridges, then shooed us out of his cramped workspace.

"Come on you two uglies, can't wait here forever. Go!"

The plan had been to get back to the Bad MF in the docking bay and escape, hopefully with enough minor distractions going on at the time that we didn't get shot down in the process. But getting hold of my special ID again opened up new possibilities, though nothing I could actually stick a flag on and call a plan. Honestly, I was just playing it by ear and hoping that Paradox wasn't.

We hurried down the corridor as Paradox counted down, "Three, two, one... now," and the corridor behind us suddenly started blaring with a loud klaxon and red flashing lights as a blast door came down.

"Two minutes to get to corridor J, or we get stuck behind one of those," he said.

We'd only gotten halfway there when three men in security uniforms rounded the corner. Two were average sized, but the largest of them was saying, "I'm telling you, it was working before, and then nothing."

"Whatever, MF, just tell Adams--"

They stopped, and the man looked down on me by a good foot and a half. His eyes narrowed.

"You." They were the words of a man facing his lifelong nemesis.

I felt around my forehead. Either the disfiguring drug was wearing off, or he could see straight into my soul. I smiled.

"Uh... Mr. Mossfoot, I presume?"

He lunged at me like a bull and I barely got my arms up in time to protect my neck from being crushed. It didn't matter, he got his hands around my neck and my hands. He lifted me up and pinned me against the bulkhead.

"You're really not a teddy bear... are you?" I gasped. "More of a.... grizzly!"

He squeezed tighter.

"Gack! I'm really... sorry about... oh screw it." I kicked him between the legs as hard as I could. He barely winced.

I guess steroid side effects did have their upside.

I didn't exactly have a good view of what was going on with the rest of the world, what with my own head being popped off being a more immediate concern, but I did hear Violet yelling and saw limbs flailing over Mossfoot's broad shoulders. I just couldn't tell whose.

"One minute," said Paradox as if his damn schedule was more important than my ability to breathe.

"You know... maybe... we could..." Damn it, my best weapon was my mouth and this guy wasn't letting me use it.

I kicked him again. And again. And again. The wince turned to a grunt, then a strained look, but I was fast losing oxygen to my brain. Finally he seemed to succumb to my cunning argument and was on his knees, which meant my feet were at least touching the ground now. A fire extinguisher across the head from Paradox ended the discussion.

"Thanks," I said.

"Just keeping us on time."

We looked to Violet. One of the guards was on the ground with a knife in his neck, presumably his own. The other was in a headlock about ready to pass out.

"Adam's men?" she asked. Paradox nodded, and Violet twisted his head around, Exorcist style.

"But--geeze--uh...DAYMN!" I blurted. That was the coldest thing I'd seen in my life, and I'd been spaced by the woman.

Unfortunately none of them had sidearms, but Violet took the folding knife from the one man's neck and rubbed the blood off on his back before pocketing it.

"I'd say thirty seconds now," she said, picking up the pace.

"I'm glad she's on our side," Paradox said. "I'll take eight."

We got to corridor J just as the next blast door came down. "At least that means nobody will find the bodies for a while," said Paradox.

"I thought you said you weren't going to send the ship into chaos," I said.

"Not the kind you had in mind, where the ship turns against its masters or whatever" he explained. "The ship's computer has a simulation running and thinks it's under attack, and is safety measures are responding like clockwork. Next up, we'll need these." He pointed to a room near the hanger bay, the display window showing the walls lined with zero-g vacuum suits.

Once inside the spacesuits we waited for the next stage, which conveniently announced itself.

"Warning," the ship's computer announced over the loudspeakers. "Hanger bay breech in thirty seconds. Evacuate immediately."

As the crew either fled to a safe zone or joined us in the suit room, we were the first ones out, fighting against the crowd.

"Okay," Paradox said. "Once we're in the bay, hold onto the support railing for dear life. When it blows nobody will be able to get in unless they're suited up or the air pressure returns to normal."

I nodded as the three of us got inside before the doors locked and sealed. We found the railing and held on.

"Warning. Hanger bay breech in ten seconds," the computer announced.

"All right," Paradox said. "After this we'll be parting ways. Good luck, you two."

I nodded. "Thanks. I mean it."

"Eh, I figure this way I feel I earned the extra twenty thousand on top of owning your ship."

"One more thing," I said. "There's a cat in the ship named Fleabag. You take care of him, got it?"

"Um... you mean that cat?" Paradox said, nodding down the hangar. The loading bay of the Bad MF was down and Fleabag was sitting on the ramp. He stopped licking his paw long enough to wonder what the heck we were doing.

"Reow?"

With a whump and a woosh the bay shields flickered, dropped, and then it felt like God himself was trying to drag us into deep space.

Fleabag disappeared like a black dot into the night.

As we dangled like rag dolls in the rush of escaping air, I slowly looked over at Paradox.

"Don't blame me! My plan didn't have a cat contingency in it!" I cursed under my breath, but there wasn't exactly anything to be done, was there? All we could do was go on with the next part of this hairbrained plan.

The last of the air gone, we dropped back down to the deck. Paradox shrugged apologetically and ran for my Hobby. He wouldn't have any trouble starting it up with his ident crystal. I was more worried about me and Violet.

You might recall that I once traded ships when my Trumble problem got out of hand, and found it surprisingly easy to do. That's because these ident crystals are meant to be kind of all-access passes for their special operatives, letting them commandeer anything they need as they needed it.

"So Paradox leaves. They think it's you. We wait in a ship for the cavalry to take chase, then escape along with them," said Violet. "Nice. What are we stealing. A Viper? Or that Constrictor I saw?"

"No, neither of those. We don't know which ones they will or won't get into."

Besides, while I was sure my ident could let me swipe any of the navy ships easily enough, I didn't know whether the fighters had an override that would let the Atomos swipe it right back. And I didn't want to spend the next five minutes drifting in space trying to hotwire it while they surrounded us or blew us out the sky.

"So what are we taking?"

"Actually, the ship I have in mind doesn't officially exist."

mossfoot wrote:

Fleabag disappeared like a black dot into the night.

Now that was just cold blooded! };]

BBD

Poor Fleabag!

- Neelix

mossfoot wrote:

"I've got an idea."

the last line in my most favorite movie.... "The Italian Job " , the real one with Mr Caine

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064505/

R.I.P. Fleabag

spud42 wrote:

mossfoot wrote:

"I've got an idea."

the last line in my most favorite movie.... "The Italian Job " , the real one with Mr Caine

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064505/

R.I.P. Fleabag

Yeah! Someone should tell Paradox "Your only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"

That Fleabag was such a cool cat.......... Even cooler now

As Paradox disappeared inside the Bad MF, Violet and I hurried to the other end of the flight deck.

"I'm pretty sure that Constrictor doesn't officially exist," said Violet, pointing out the jet black top secret fighter as we passed it by.

"Yeah, but for all we know it's got some kind of self destruct if the wrong person tries to start it up." I said. "We need a ship I know we can trust."

It didn't take long for her to see where we were going, and what I had in mind. "You're joking."

"Why?"

She waved to the hodgepodge of ships before us. "Those are antiques!"

"Yes, and my dad wouldn't dream of doing anything to alter them--it would spoil the authenticity. Some of these are in perfect condition."

She reluctantly nodded. "They better be. Which did you have in mind?"

I pointed to the sexiest ship of the bunch, down at the far end. "That one. It's the only one with room for a copilot."

At first she didn't recognize it, then she saw the logo on the cherry red hull.

"That can't be..."

"It is. Come on."

The Cobra MKIII is one of the respected ships in the spacelanes. It succeeded the MKI model which had been in use for a hundred and fifty years. A capable fighter that at the same time is able to carry a decent amount of cargo. A true Jack-of-all-trades. You'd find them used by everyone--bounty hunters, merchants, miners, pirates, you name it.

This was not that ship.

Violet ran her hand along the hull as I lowered the access ramp. "The missing Mark II..."

I had to smile. I could tell from the awe in her voice that she'd grown up watching some of the same shows I did. The Mark II was a ship of legend. A glorious failure that epitomized the concept of the future-that-might-have been. It was a prototype that was so far ahead of the curve we literally didn't have the technology to build her at the time. But if we had been able to, it would have changed the universe.

"It's actually pretty overrated." I said.

That seemed to snap her out of it. "Huh?"

The ramp dropped and we climbed inside. "Well, I mean, she's still a damn good ship, and if the Mark II had worked as advertised it really would have been a game changer, but think about it, that was a hundred years ago. The game's changed a few times since then."

"I know, but still. The missing prototype. This is a replica, right?"

"That's what he tells everyone, but nope. Real deal. Cockpit is this way," I said pointing.

Violet chased after me. "Wait. If it's not a replica, then how do you expect to fly it? The Mark II didn't work."

I ducked my head and slipped into the sweet leather pilot seat. Just like old times. "Well, the third prototype did for a while, the one that Faulcon deLacy got involved in and geared more towards the mass market. But this is the second prototype. The one they were still courting the Navy with. And trust me, it works. Strap in."

She got into the seat next to me. They were bunched so close together so you always had to get in them from the outside left or right.

"That's awkward. You should be able to step through the middle."

"There's a reason for it," I said, setting the systems on standby. I didn't even need my ident key to activate her, he hadn't changed the passcode since last time. "Now we wait for Paradox to leave, and hope nobody saw us getting in." I just hoped we didn't have to wait long.

Violet looked around the cockpit, probably trying to see if it matched with her expectations. "Similar copilot layout to the modern Cobra," she said. She looked behind her and noticed a third control terminal directly behind me. "Bit of an odd place to put that, though. So, how did your dad get this ship? How does it even exist?"

The thing about the Mark II's mythos is that there's just enough truth to it to get people's imaginations soaring. The reason it failed was, indeed, because it was ahead of its time. Paynou, Prossett and Salem had made all kinds of unreasonable promises as to what it would be able to do, and the designers had to fudge the numbers just to get it to prototype stage, hoping to fix it later. They couldn't.

"Everyone knows how the first prototype blew up on the launch pad, and the story goes that the second Mark II was scrapped just before its maiden flight, due to malformed alloys--"

"--But it was actually smuggled away by a secret organization who needed an advanced fighter to combat the Thargoids transformable giant robot threat every week?"

"Heh, no. But I watched Cobra Rangers as a kid too. A ship enthusiast, Maximilian Prefect, offered PPS extra funding for it so they could keep their struggling project afloat. Prefect spent the next twenty years working on this baby as his own personal pet project, sinking a small fortune into fixing the flaws from the inside out and even improving it past its design specs a bit. It's been bouncing around in private collections until my dad got a hold of it. I used to steal her for joy rides before he bought me my own ship."

"Paradox is leaving," said Violet.

I looked at the Bad MF as it lifted off the flight deck and left the Atomos, just as security rushed in too late to stop her and pilots began manning their ships to take up pursuit. I felt a bit sad seeing her go, I admit. Even more so for losing my ship's cat. But what Violet had told me back in the brig was true: If you want to live, dignity needs to be on the bottom of your priority list. And if that meant sneaking away in a rusty old antique, then so be it.

Besides, this antique was anything but rusty. I didn't just choose her because she had room for a co-pilot. I chose her because in her own humble way she kicked serious ass.

Love that description of a Cobra Mk II.

"--But it was actually smuggled away by a secret organization who needed an advanced fighter to combat the Thargoids transformable giant robot threat every week?"

"Heh, no. But I watched Cobra Rangers as a kid too.

Ha ha ha, what a wonderful pun on Power Rangers, I watched them as a kid too!

Nice intro to the new ship.

Looks like you'll need to update your sig

mossfoot wrote:

She got into the seat next to me. They were bunched so close together so you always had to get in them from the outside left or right.

"That's awkward. You should be able to step through the middle."

"There's a reason for it," I said, setting the systems on standby. I didn't even need my ident key to activate her, he hadn't changed the passcode since last time. "Now we wait for Paradox to leave, and hope nobody saw us getting in." I just hoped we didn't have to wait long.

Violet looked around the cockpit, probably trying to see if it matched with her expectations. "Similar copilot layout to the modern Cobra," she said. She looked behind her and noticed a third control terminal directly behind me. "Bit of an odd place to put that, though. So, how did your dad get this ship? How does it even exist?"

Nice deflection... Though I hope you won't take too long to reveal the reason for the unusual cockpit layout.

- Neelix

Thanks. I actually researched the various elements of the MKI, MKII and MKIII to come up with something plausible and interesting. There is more to it, but you can't waste too much time with exposition.

Well if you like the way I write game based backstory, you're going to love the OXP I've been writing the flavor text for.

It's a series of missions Norby is coding (with some helpful input form cim), leading to a ship Paradox at Death To Triangles Industries was kind enough to create for me, and Diziet is going to update the Wikipedia with some relevant entries that will help flesh it all out It should be a fun experience (I hope).

mossfoot wrote:

and Diziet is going to...

Ahem.. 'Dizzy', to my friends..

You have come so far in such a short time.

My heart wells with pride Master Foot.

Finally managed to catch up this morning - what a rollercoaster!

mossfoot wrote:

She looked behind her and noticed a third control terminal directly behind me. "Bit of an odd place to put that, though.

?? Teamaker ??

mossfoot wrote:

Fleabag disappeared like a black dot into the night.

I'm going to stay optimistic... after all Mr Mistophelees is a cat

Thanks for bringing us along on the ride

The Bad MF was off like a very slow dart, veering off to the port side of the Atomos. As fond as I was of her, she was never the fastest ship in the galaxy. Fortunately she had a head start before the first Vipers could get off the ship. I just hoped Paradox knew what he was doing. He seemed confident he could hop to the next system and bounce from rock hermit to rock hermit, running them in circles. After that? Well, he sure sounded like he had a plan.

"How long do we wait?" Violet asked.

No less than ten Vipers went after him, but not the elite interceptors of Delta squad. "After those Vipers chase him through the witchpoint." Actually I was hoping to see the interceptors leave first. I couldn't outrun those.

Violet seemed antsy about being the co-pilot. "This is terrible. I've just got navigation and cargo regulation. No weapons, no missile or mine controls. I'm useless. Move over. I'm a better pilot than you."

"You're a better combat pilot, I'll grant you that. But I'm better at running away. Besides, I've actually flown this ship before. You haven't."

"Fine," she huffed. "Need me to tell you all the nothing we have in the cargo hold?"

"Just set course for... well not the nearest system and not the farthest. Something middlish."

The tapped some buttons. "Middlish course set. Can we go now?"

I held a deep breath. "No... not yet. There's something I need to do first." I opened the comm channel to the bridge and asked for the captain. I knew how to get the direct line.

"Dad."

"Son? Where in blazes? Do you have any idea--" I cut him off as he started blustering. If he was as clueless as Paradox said, I didn't have much time to convince him he was in danger.

"Listen to me. I don't have a lot of time and you might have even less. You can't trust your XO. Adams works for Section W and he has a black ops unit working out of this ship right under your nose."

"What? You can't be serious. Talk some sense, man!"

"I am talking sense. I don't know what his cover story was, but he's the reason the pirates got their hands on the fighter coordination technology you were developing."

"I've worked with the man for years, I--"

"Dad. I know you have a hard time believing me, but the man tried to have me killed. He did have me killed, come to think of it. I've been right here on your ship for the last six hours and you didn't have a clue. Should your XO be holding back that kind of information? You gotta believe me."

My dad didn't answer right away. I hoped it was because he was considering my words and not just ready to blow a gasket.

"Crap." Violet pointed down to the airlock. Another batch of security had arrived, and seemed to be heading this way. I guess they traced the call pretty quick.

I kicked in the maneuvering jets and pushed the Cobra MKII to the launch area. "Time to go."

"Go? Go where?" my dad asked.

With the shields on, I ended up bumping into the Gecko next to me, one that once belonged to a bounty hunter known only as B.B. Duck, knocking it over and into the next ship and... well it got a little messy. These ships had been packed pretty close together.

"What's all that racket, what what?"

"Um, nothing dad. Don't worry about it. Just take care of that Adams guy before he takes over the ship in some creepy coup where you don't know who to trust. Trust me, he's probably already doing it."

"Right. Well, I'll see to it I get some answers from Adams. You, meet me on the bridge right now, you hear? We'll get to the bottom of this nonsense!"

"Um, that would be a bit difficult actually, dad." I could have shot out of the hangar any time I wanted, but I needed to position myself just right first.

"Go already!" yelled Violet. "What are you waiting for?"

"Just lining her up," I said.

"With what? You're wasting time, you moron. Go!"

My dad was only further confused by this chatter. "Son? What are you up to?"

I was pretty sure this was exactly where the Bad MF had been, and I was banking on Newton not taking a holiday. "There. Open the cargo scoop."

Violet's eyebrow rose. "What?"

"Just do it."

She did and I warmed up the thrusters.

"Dad, I know we don't see eye to eye, and I know I've been a huge disappointment to you, but these last few months have taught me a few things about what's important in life. I never really appreciated everything you tried to do for me, and didn't listen to you when I should have. I'm sorry. Just do me a favor. Don't get yourself killed by a weasel like Adams. It wouldn't look good in the family history."

"Son, I..."

"Oh, and I kinda have to borrow your Cobra. Bye!"

"What?!?"

I pushed the throttle and hit the fuel injectors, pretty much against every undocking protocol in the book and shot into the black like a cartoon coyote with his ass on fire. Almost as quickly as I did, I pulled back on the throttle until we were crawling.

"What are you slowing down f--" Something beeped on her monitor. "Wait, something just landed in the cargo bay. Did you...?"

I smiled and gave her a wink as I kicked the engines in full again. "Just picking up a lost crew member. You can raise the cargo scoop now."

Things were looking up for once. I looked back at the Atomos in the rear view monitor as we approached a safe distance to hyperspace jump. Just in time to see the Constrictor leave the hangar bay and set course straight for us.

"Ah hell." Things are looking up for once. When will I ever learn not to think those kind of things?

mossfoot wrote:

"What are you slowing down f--" Something beeped on her monitor. "Wait, something just landed in the cargo bay. Did you...?"

I smiled and gave her a wink as I kicked the engines in full again. "Just picking up a lost crew member. You can raise the cargo scoop now."

How Long Can a Human (read CAT) Live Unprotected in Space?

If you *don't* try to hold your breath, exposure to space for half a minute of so is unlikely to produce permanent injury. Holding your breath is likely to damage your lungs, something scuba divers have to watch out for when ascending, and you'll have eardrum trouble if your Eustachian tubes are badly plugged up, but theory predicts -- and animal experiments confirm -- that otherwise, exposure to vacuum causes no immediate injury. You do not explode. Your blood does not boil. You do not freeze. You do not instantly lose consciousness.

Various minor problems (sunburn, possibly "the bends", certainly some [mild, reversible, painless] swelling of skin and underlying tissue) start after 10 seconds or so. At some point you lose consciousness from lack of oxygen. Injuries accumulate. After perhaps one or two minutes you're dying. The limits are not really known.

You do not explode and your blood does not boil because of the containing effect of your skin and circulatory system. You do not instantly freeze because, although the space environment is typically very cold, heat does not transfer away from a body quickly. Loss of consciousness occurs only after the body has depleted the supply of oxygen in the blood. If your skin is exposed to direct sunlight without any protection from its intense ultraviolet radiation, you can get a very bad sunburn.

At NASA's Manned Spacecraft Center (now renamed Johnson Space Center) we had a test subject accidentally exposed to a near vacuum (less than 1 psi) in an incident involving a leaking space suit in a vacuum chamber back in '65. He remained conscious for about 14 seconds, which is about the time it takes for O2 deprived blood to go from the lungs to the brain. The suit probably did not reach a hard vacuum, and we began repressurizing the chamber within 15 seconds. The subject regained consciousness at around 15,000 feet equivalent altitude. The subject later reported that he could feel and hear the air leaking out, and his last conscious memory was of the water on his tongue beginning to boil.

Aviation Week and Space Technology (02/13/95) printed a letter by Leonard Gordon which reported another vacuum-packed anecdote:

"The experiment of exposing an unpressurized hand to near vacuum for a significant time while the pilot went about his business occurred in real life on Aug. 16, 1960. Joe Kittinger, during his ascent to 102,800 ft (19.5 miles) in an open gondola, lost pressurization of his right hand. He decided to continue the mission, and the hand became painful and useless as you would expect. However, once back to lower altitudes following his record-breaking parachute jump, the hand returned to normal."


In short, your captain is going to have one limp pussy on his hands. (wouldn't be the first time). Adding up the time it took him to get to the ship, power it up and have a heart to heart with daddy; that animal is going to have (at best) beans for brains due to lack of oxygen. I don't know if they do cat rem locks. I can't wait for your explanation for this one.

Actually, as it turns out you might be able to get away with this:
http://stroke.ahajournals.org/content/1 ... 6.full.pdf

Not a "nice" study but an informative one. (why the effort? I want to see the little shit saved just as much as the next man. I just have exacting standards of plausibility and a deep hatred of avoidable hand wavium.)