Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Three: HMS Thunderhead]
03-28-2011, 06:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
The woman, in her two-sizes-too-large jacket, squinted at the blueprints. "Richard Bratton" tapped his foot impatiently. "What's taking so long, anyway? Isn't this supposed to be just routine maintenance?"
The woman took a deep breath before pulling out her wrench and carefully adjusting some of the engine's inner workings. "Yes, but as the handbook says, just a single mechanism out of place could send this whole engine to smithereens." The engineer's handbook in her pocket did, in fact, say that, and looking at the engine it was easy to imagine why; an outside observer saw nothing more than a jumbled mess of pipes, gears, fans, vents, belts, and wires, and the diagrams she repeatedly glanced at did little to clarify. After a while, she re-attached the steel panel that covered the labyrinth of technology, wiped some grease off her cheek, and sighed. "Right, that's all eight reactors checked. Let's go get that food."
The pair strolled down the hallway, Richard occasionally scratching at his forehead. "You never told me your name, miss."
"Didn't I? Sorry about that. Diana."
He grinned. "Good to meet you, Diana. Now then." He mashed a button on the elevator, which quickly whirred down to their position. "So, then. You wouldn't happen to have a boyfriend, would you?"
Diana raised an eyebrow. "Someone's a bit forward, but as it happens, no. I've remained staunchly single, and I doubt anyone's going to change that in the near future." She smiled softly, brushing aside a strand of reddish hair. "Of course, I could be wrong. Do tell me, Mister Bratton, what do you do for a living?"
He made a big show of "accidentally" brushing against his scar as the two entered the lift. "I'm actually a space captain, miss. I go throughout the galaxy, killing space pirates, fighting wars, all that sort of thing." He leaned down and whispered. "Actually, I have it on good authority that some pirates are planning to attack on this very voyage. That's why I've come aboard."
Diana gasped. "Oh, my! That would-- wait, the 45th deck? Why, Mister Bratton..."
"Call me Richard, please. And yes, I have a fairly high status, I suppose." He took her in his arm and strutted down the hallway, just in time to run into the sandman, and a fraction of a second later for both of them to notice that they were, in fact, only on the 24th floor. As cliche as it might seem, time definitely seemed to stand still as the three stared at each other, Tamerlane vaguely recognizing one of them but not being quite sure how, before another lift opened and he sidled his way into that one.
Diana sighed slightly. "What was that fellow's problem?"
Richard shrugged. "I dunno, but there's no need to worry about him, is there? I mean, we are having dinner together, yes?"
"Ah, indeed."
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The GRIMACE ship, masked by its cloaking device, slowly approached. On the bridge, Randolph Markovnikov stared out at the depths of space, at the image the sun cast over Varral's massive landscape, and of course the looming Thunderhead. He shook his head, sighing.
"Sir, boarding in eight point four minutes!"
He nodded. "Thank you, Derrick. Polly, status report on the core?"
"On one of the lower decks-- somewhere between deck 39 and 47, I believe. Slime-based anomaly remains. Based on what's been going into it, I'd say Riko's still in possession of it."
Randolph frowned slightly, shifting his goggles. "Do we know what that anomaly's going to do?"
"Not yet, sir, but several theories."
The zeppelin's vast form grew ever closer. Markovnikov nodded. "Do tell. We have about eight minutes to kill, after all."
The woman, in her two-sizes-too-large jacket, squinted at the blueprints. "Richard Bratton" tapped his foot impatiently. "What's taking so long, anyway? Isn't this supposed to be just routine maintenance?"
The woman took a deep breath before pulling out her wrench and carefully adjusting some of the engine's inner workings. "Yes, but as the handbook says, just a single mechanism out of place could send this whole engine to smithereens." The engineer's handbook in her pocket did, in fact, say that, and looking at the engine it was easy to imagine why; an outside observer saw nothing more than a jumbled mess of pipes, gears, fans, vents, belts, and wires, and the diagrams she repeatedly glanced at did little to clarify. After a while, she re-attached the steel panel that covered the labyrinth of technology, wiped some grease off her cheek, and sighed. "Right, that's all eight reactors checked. Let's go get that food."
The pair strolled down the hallway, Richard occasionally scratching at his forehead. "You never told me your name, miss."
"Didn't I? Sorry about that. Diana."
He grinned. "Good to meet you, Diana. Now then." He mashed a button on the elevator, which quickly whirred down to their position. "So, then. You wouldn't happen to have a boyfriend, would you?"
Diana raised an eyebrow. "Someone's a bit forward, but as it happens, no. I've remained staunchly single, and I doubt anyone's going to change that in the near future." She smiled softly, brushing aside a strand of reddish hair. "Of course, I could be wrong. Do tell me, Mister Bratton, what do you do for a living?"
He made a big show of "accidentally" brushing against his scar as the two entered the lift. "I'm actually a space captain, miss. I go throughout the galaxy, killing space pirates, fighting wars, all that sort of thing." He leaned down and whispered. "Actually, I have it on good authority that some pirates are planning to attack on this very voyage. That's why I've come aboard."
Diana gasped. "Oh, my! That would-- wait, the 45th deck? Why, Mister Bratton..."
"Call me Richard, please. And yes, I have a fairly high status, I suppose." He took her in his arm and strutted down the hallway, just in time to run into the sandman, and a fraction of a second later for both of them to notice that they were, in fact, only on the 24th floor. As cliche as it might seem, time definitely seemed to stand still as the three stared at each other, Tamerlane vaguely recognizing one of them but not being quite sure how, before another lift opened and he sidled his way into that one.
Diana sighed slightly. "What was that fellow's problem?"
Richard shrugged. "I dunno, but there's no need to worry about him, is there? I mean, we are having dinner together, yes?"
"Ah, indeed."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The GRIMACE ship, masked by its cloaking device, slowly approached. On the bridge, Randolph Markovnikov stared out at the depths of space, at the image the sun cast over Varral's massive landscape, and of course the looming Thunderhead. He shook his head, sighing.
"Sir, boarding in eight point four minutes!"
He nodded. "Thank you, Derrick. Polly, status report on the core?"
"On one of the lower decks-- somewhere between deck 39 and 47, I believe. Slime-based anomaly remains. Based on what's been going into it, I'd say Riko's still in possession of it."
Randolph frowned slightly, shifting his goggles. "Do we know what that anomaly's going to do?"
"Not yet, sir, but several theories."
The zeppelin's vast form grew ever closer. Markovnikov nodded. "Do tell. We have about eight minutes to kill, after all."