”Yeah, just get us to the server. I’m not sure if it will be as easy as getting into a can of one hundred year space gruel, but certainly it will be easier than getting into a can of one hundred fifty year old space gruel. You wouldn’t believe the difference fifty years can make when opening cans.”
(Emphasis added.)
Janzi listens to Gig pontificate on the difference in aged space gruel and has a thousand thoughts go through his head.
Instead he simply says, Let's tackle this cult stuff at first light. I'm pretty tired of the Kish-spiracy here anyway.
HAHAHAH! I stand corrected. Shame on me for thinking I had untangled the Gordian Knot!
"You really know your space gruel, Gig," Hack-It says with a hint of admiration. "Alright, let's rest. I've got a few modifications that I want to make anyhow."
Booker organizes watches and makes sure the Maiden is ready to go at a moment's notice, then crashes for a good sleep.
Janzi reminds everyone that they need to find the server first to figure out where the cult went; but then will likewise be altogether pleased to be departing Nejeor and the backward "city" of Istamak.
While restful, his sleep is fitful, with visions of kish — entirely unbidden — dancing in his head. He wakes up in a foul mood. Let's get this over with and get the frack out of here. I have never been so ready to be off-planet in my life.
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Hack-It boards the Sunrise Maiden with a scowl across his face. He gets into his workspace, hitting Hum with a furious fist as he closes the door.
"Gods be damned! You metallic flying scrap heap! You're going to start carrying your weight!" the mechanic shouts loud enough that others nearby could probably hear him. The sound of crashing as things fall (or are thrown) make it obvious that it's best to give the Ysoki some space.
Within an hour of their return Hum has been completely disassembled. Bolts, screws, wire filaments, printed circuit boards, and several unknowable pieces are scattered about his workspace.
During the second hour Hum has been rebuilt to a completely different shape. With the appearance of a metallic Frankenstein's monster, the drone wobbles on two legs as it moves about. "Testing subroutine 02729. And... go," Hack-It says, entering the command in his wrist console. The two-legged drone takes a step forward, wobbles, and takes another. It then inexplicably falls face forward with a loud crash.
A third hour passes, this one filled with more domestic rage in the mechanic's quarters.
In the fourth hour the drone is reassembled. It looks almost exactly the same as it did before being disassembled, but now sports a red button on its side with the words "Deadly Mode" scratched into the otherwise sleek metal surface. "I give up on you. No better than before. Why won't you even try to be something more?? It's your limits that put people in danger. I mean Dunk almost..." Hack-It trails off. If anyone were watching him, you'd be unsure if he was talking to the drone or to himself.
The fifth and sixth hours are perhaps the most peculiar. Hack-It moves about the ship calm and collected. He makes several trips back and forth to collect various items that they've collected. Specifically:
- D Suit I
- Frostbite-class Zero Rifle
- Two Aeon Guard Spec Ops Armor
- Aeon Guard Accelerator Rifle
- Two Corona Laser Pistol
- Two Tactical Knife
- Two Thunderstrike Pulse Gauntlet
- Snub scattergun
Within that two hour timeframe he disassembles each item, then pulls items from his own storage chest and disassembles them as well. And then he begins the the painstaking process of creation. It starts as a heap of scrap metal. But high-intensity flame, loud hammering, careful grinding, and vociferous swearing combine into a weapon.
Finally, Hack-It sleeps.
=======================
The next morning Dunklezahn hears the metallic screech of something being dragged along the floor. It's the prelude to Hack-It's arrival.
"Hey bud. Figured you might want something new that can cut people up," Hack-It says. He lifts up an overlarge two-edged sword that is meant to create terrifying wounds. It is not a suble weapon, especially with the elaborate spiked designs worked into the blade, hilt, and pommel.
Gingerly, he hands it to Dunklezahn. "It's called a Devastation Blade. And if that doesn't scare them away, then natural selection suggests that they're meant to die anyhow. Enjoy."
|
Dunklezahn takes the blade from Hack-It. He takes several short, measured swings with it and spends a moment admiring the craftsmanship and embellishments on the blade.
Damn, Hack-It. That's a remarkable bit of work. Thank you. I'll make sure to put it to good use. Here, let me fix you up something.
Dunklezahn makes a tasty bit of breakfast for Hack-It.
Hack-It takes a bite into the breakfast. He then begins eating like he's not had a good meal in days. "It's pretty cheesy," he manages to say between mouthfuls. "Normally I'd say that's kinda racist. Everyone acts like Ysoki love cheese. Personally, I dig the noodle dish you did last time. But this," he pauses to put more food in his mouth, then chews. "This is just right. And it puts me in the mood to re-kill some idiotic, Apocalypse-seeking walking corpses."
He pushes the now empty dish away and stands. "Let's get this over with, hey?"
|
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After wrapping up sandwiches, dried fruits, crisps, and canteens for everyone to take with them, Dunklezahn takes off his apron and hangs it on its hook in the galley. He stretches, double checks the seals on his armor, and shoulders his new blade.
I'm ready to bust some heads. Let's get the others together and head out.
The party suits up, with Booker giving a mighty belch of approval for Dunklezahn's culinary mastery
The party deploys on the floating bit of Istamak’s outskirts.
A smooth path runs past an overgrown lawn to the entrance of this drab building. The knee-high blue-and-green grass smells sweet, like honey warming in the sun. The structure’s walls are shot through with barely perceptible white filaments webbing across the entire surface.
the filaments are a kind of mold; while breathing air near the mold might have negative longterm health consequences for anyone unprotected, the environmental protections of the your armor should filter out any of its spores.
the mold is one massive colony and, having grown to this size, it might be able to defend itself if it perceives an attack.
the filaments are acting as a kind of structural support, keeping the walls of the building from collapsing in on themselves.
Booker checks that his weapon is loaded and the safety off. He knows by the weight how many bullets are left in the cartridge without having to look, and can see the red tab of the safety in his peripheral vision. He checks anyway, out of habit rather than necessity.
"Bet the thing's rigged with explosives," he sniffs, gesturing at the white filaments. "Anybody been by recently?"
This last part he expresses at the ground, checking it for prints.
That white stuff looks like mold, Janzi says. Unhealthy stuff, at the very least. He keeps an eye peeled for trouble.
"The filaments are the only thing holding that building together. It's the reason the walls haven't collapsed. Odd. And potentially dangerous."
Booker is confident than this place hasn't seen a visitor in a long, long time. As the soldier looks down, Janzi looks up. Coming in from the nearby clouds are a [url=https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1V7jEzjuGxjTiFcmjxQJB_9-er0SdvSXY_aRtw6VRzss/edit#slide=id.g594c827448_0_0]pair of strange bulbous creatures, large, floating, living sacs of gas that vaguely resemble jellyfish. At first, unsure of their hostility, one spits a hardened pellet of minerals with a speed just shy of a bullet! It ricochets off the ground, but their intentions are now clear:
Round 1:
Hack-It: Go
Dunklezahn: Go
R1G5: Go
Booker: Go
Gig: Go
Janzi: Go
Hostiles: TBD
Janzi ducks behind R.1.G.5. to avoid the pellet, then aims his corona laser pistol. I've been unpopular before, he says, but I don't recall being this unpopular this often. At this point I can only conclude that the galaxy doesn't like Ysoki.
JAnzi finds the creatures relatively easy to hit, as his pistol burns a chunk of the floating jelly.
Round 1:
Hack-It: Go
Dunklezahn: Go
R1G5: Go
Booker: Go
Gig: Go
Janzi: Hit
Hostiles: TBD
Black: 9
"I think I have an explosive plan that may work on these pesky creatures!" Gig cries out.
Gig moves his hand in somatic gestures and with a sharp command, presently unheard of from his companions, he casts a newly learned spell, Explosive Blast, that explodes about 30 feet off of the ground in the area of effect of the strange bulbous creatures.
"Look out below!"
"Yuck," Booker grunts after learning about the mold. He checks his suit's environmental seals, too.
* * *
"You didn't say you did concert pyrotechnics, too, Gig," Booker comments dryly. He raises his rifle. "Time to pop some balloons."
Dunklezahn's quick hip shot is just a bit off target. Booker's opening salvo scores a solid hit. The creature begins oozing some kind of goo from it's main bubble.
The already leaking creature pops in the blast. It's goo splatters on everything. The other creature looks like it's about to beat a somewhat hasty retreat!
Round 1:
Hack-It: Go
Dunklezahn: Miss
R1G5: Go
Booker: Hit
Gig: BOOM!
Janzi: Hit
Hostiles: TBD
Green: 32
Hack-It delays, fine with the idea of letting it go.
Having killed one, and the other fleeing, the party lets the strange floating creature live to fight another day.
Now there is nothing between them and finding a way into the the Temple Found.
Dunk finds them unlocked, but jammed shut due to the vines.
After a full minute of yanking on the door, the mighty Dunklezahn tears it open.
Except for the carpet of pale white mold covering everything, this room appears to have been untouched for millennia. Five heavily padded chairs sit against the western and southern walls. A bed of mushrooms grows on a large, four-foot-high, L-shaped desk across from the main entrance, next to a small cabinet. A door leads north.
With his seals confirmed, Dunklezahn pushes on. It takes a bit to pull this door open, but he gets it.
Dunklezahn opens the door, this time without issue, and finds that it's a rather open area with a few hallways to choose from.
Booker glances at Dunklezahn. Wordlessly, they get into position, then swing in unison in opposite directions to face the next pair of rooms simultaneously.
”Have we found the temple found?” Gig remarks with a grin rather please with his clever word use.
While Gig cracks jokes, Dunklezahn and Booker wheel forward. This spacious room is a wide swath of small, gray hillocks covering what might have once been a collection of desks and chairs. Two doors exit the room to the south. There is a doorway to a smaller room to the northwest, and a short hallway leads east past two other doors. No creatures stir.
After Gig realizes that his jokes are not going over well, he puts a serious grin on his face and try to follow Booker's lead. He draws his laser pistol and suddenly swings around the next corner into the room ready to fire at the unexpected. Fortunately, Booker and Dunk have already made sure the room is clear.
Hack-It chuckles at Gig's antics. "I feel like I saw that move in one of those over the top spy action vids. Is that where you get your moves, Gig?"
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Gig replies to Hack in hushed tones. ”I’ve seen some good spy vids in my time, but honestly, I feel like I’m in my own live action extreme vid right now. Maybe even something like Pact World Warriors. Look at those two up front. They enter those rooms like they are ruthless professionals. How can I complete with that? It wasn’t that long ago that I learned that I have to turn off my safety before I fire my blaster. I just wish I could impress them with my shooting ability. I think all they see me good for is opening doors and revving up the engines when we get back aboard the Maiden. I figure if I want to get good, I’ve got to start acting like a real mercenary. So what do you think? Will my moves help me earn their respect?”
The party banters as they explore. To the right is more of the same. To the left is slightly different. Though this room is as covered in mold as the rest of the building, the smell here is somehow even worse. A foul, rotting odor wafts from what appears to be an open unpowered refrigeration unit. Rotting cabinets, some whose doors have long ago fallen off, hang on the walls, and parts of a small, round table peek out from under a mound of mold.
The two soldier push their way down the rows, only to determine, there isn't anything of interest in either row.
While one of the rooms is larger than the other, they are both furnished similarly, each with a desk and some chairs. Both the offices and their furnishings are covered with mold.
Dunk and Booker press on. They push through to the hallway, and flank the door across the hall. Booker covers the aperture while Dunk gently pushes it open.