Fanfic-Go-Round: Avalon 5

Canadian teenagers jus' kickin' it 24/7.

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Postby Darth Avatar on Sat Jun 09, 2001 2:57 am

Joe stood there, watching out the main viewport, admiring the stars. He had seen them all before, travelled to most of them. He had spent most of his adult life in space yet, somehow, they seemed different in this place. Somehow, they seemed more... special.<P>The quiet beeping tone and vibrating sensation on the back of his hand alerted the new Captain of an incoming message, breaking him from his stellar reverie. Lifting his hand to his mouth and pressing the response piezo-crystal, he spoke.<P>"Paige here."<P>"Captain," the caller began. The voice came in more clearly than any signal throughout the entire city had ever been, easily identifying Alan Gunderson, Chief of Security, on the other end. "You wanted me to let you know when that new Ambassador was about to arrive."<P>"Go on," prodded the Captain.<P>"Well, he's here now." Gunderson always seemed to have a flair for waiting for the last moment, almost a sick sense of humor from watching people scramble to realize that they're already too late for something.<P>"I'll be right down." Pressing the piezo-crystal again, the communication unit was deactivated. Heading towards the door, Joe turned his head back and said, "You have the Com, Miss Bradley."<P>Phoebe Bradley looked up momentarily from the small data screen she had been intensely studying for well over an hour now and looked back at her new Captain.<P>"Don't take too long, sir - History class starts in fifteen minutes."<P>--------------------------------------------<P>Okay, Lynchers, here's the start - who's gonna pick up and advance the twistiness??<P><P>------------------
<B>Darth Avatar</B><P><UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>"Try this. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings. Too sweet?"
<LI>"What is it?"
<LI>"I don't know - I found it in one of the labs..."
</UL>
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Postby Dynonychus on Sat Jun 09, 2001 4:21 am

"Deck one, please."<P>As the lift started it's decent, Joe unfolded the thumbnail briefing he'd received prior to the Scottish ambassador's arrival. The briefing wasn't thorough by any stretch, merely appointment dates and a few prior assignments, but had at least included the proper pronunciation of her name in English. "Kay-lee, kay-lee, kay-lee," he muttered to himself. <I>At least try and act civil, Page</I>, he reminded himself, <I>even if they're damn wierd to you</I>. He glanced down at the paper again.... yep, it still looked like "Seel-id" to him.<P>The lift slowed and the doors hissed open, even though he was still some ways from Deck One. <I> Oh, great... this is the </I>last<I> thing I need now</I>. <P>"Ah, Cap'n Page!" exclaimed the Australian ambassador, oily cheerfulness dripping from every word. "I been meanin' to talk to ya about my room."<P>"What seems to be the problem now, Iain?" Joe always marveled at how the ambassador's hairline seemed to extend down the sides of his face.<P>"Two words, mate: air conditioning."<P>Joe looked puzzled. "What about it?"<P>"It ain't, that's my point! I need ya ta get some blokes up there an' fix the damn thing. As is, she's hotter'n the back of beyond, if ya catch my meaning."<P>"I'll be sure and get someone on it," said Joe, looking fixedly at the deck indicator. <I>And I'll see if I can't get them to make these lifts go any faster</I>.<p>[This message has been edited by Dynonychus (edited 06-12-2001).]
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Postby Darth Avatar on Sat Jun 09, 2001 5:04 am

The bridge had been quiet all day, not even the Captain's abrupt call had managed to disturb the peacefulness. Phoebe noticed that she was actually beginning to relax, now that all the men were out of the room.<P>That peace was disturbed briefly, though, by a quiet announcement from one of the many bridge aides.<P>"Miss Bradley, we've just registered a ship coming out of hyperspace."<P><I>Great, two ships not on the schedule on the same day. This does not look good,</I> she thought to herself. Recomposing herself, she instructed back to the aide, "Give me a visual."<P>The screen at the station's second-in-command console rolled away its ever present Avalon logo to reveal the image being recorded by the exterior surface cameras. A small ship was definitely coming in, probably no bigger than a simple shuttle with no more than three passengers. It was still too far out to identify accurately, though, at the current view.<P>"Magnify," she commanded the computer. The screen flashed for a fraction of a second as the system recalculated a magnified version of the image as the black ship now became easily identifiable. There was just one thing about it that gave Phoebe a strong and overwhelming sense of impending dread.<P>"Damn it."<P>The front of the ship was drawn up to bear a goatee.<P>"I hate Psy-Cops."
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Postby Dynonychus on Sat Jun 09, 2001 9:34 am

Deirdre woke slowly, listening to the echos of voices fading as her mental defences involuntarily reasserted themselves. She sat up in bed, rubbing her temples as another night slid away. Well, as much as one could call it night... the stars always shone here. Not like home... but then again, neither were <I>other</I> things, which is why she was out here in the first place.<P>She rose eventually and stepped into the shower, not calling for the lights. She preferred the darkness, if not the cold, endless night outside. In this way she could avoid the mirrors the designers had built into the walls. The mirrors which, to her, always reflected back... something else. Oh, it was her own body, of course. But the eyes... she felt like she was staring into a black hole, could <I>feel</I> herself being pulled into her own eyes. And she feared getting lost.<P>This morning, though, provided other distractions. As she stepped out of the washroom, she noticed her comm terminal flashing with a message. Curious, she tapped 'play'. The Avalon logo spun itself off the edge as Captain Page's face filled the screen.<P>"Hi, Deirdre. I don't mean to disturb you this early, but the Scottish ambassador's due to arrive this morning at around ten-hundred hours, docking bay twelve. I'd really appreciate it if you could meet us there when she does. Thank you. Page out."<P>The screen darkened once more as she glanced at the clock. 0845... plenty of time. She finished patting the moisture out of her hair.<P>Well, well... the Scottish ambassador. She hadn't really encountered many Scots... just enough to know they were a somewhat warlike species divided into various internal clans. Stil, they were for the most part honest, honourable, and law-abiding... just not very merciful. Something tugged at her mind, though. There was something... not right about this. She logged on the AvCom network and checked the shipping scheduals. No ships due in from Scotland... this ambassador was coming in on an Ottawa ship. <I>That's odd</I>, she thought. <I>Probably why the captain wants me there</I>.<P>She dressed in a somewhat conservative suit, dark mustard in colour, with a simple white blouse underneath. She set her Psycorp badge in place over the left breast and, looking around first, <I>concentrated</I>. She knew she shouldn't do this, shouldn't be <I>able</I> to do this... knew the consequences if THEY ever found out. But behind her, her long red hair gathered itself into ropes and twisted itself into a long braid. Guiltily, she pulled on her gloves and headed out. Breakfast would be in order first... coffee and doughnuts, perhaps...<p>[This message has been edited by Dynonychus (edited 06-10-2001).]
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Postby Coota on Wed Jun 13, 2001 2:07 am

Security Chief Gunderson grinned as he heard the Captain's somewhat harried voice on the other end. Sometimes this job was just too much fun. Though a job that authorized him to screw with people really *couldn't* avoid being fun. Hell, it was his entire job; keep everybody on their toes, keep them all honest. <P>There were only two problems with his job: first, he had to pass calculus in order to keep his rating, which was a lot harder than he thought it would be. The second... the second was much worse than any class could ever be. A problem that had haunted him from job to job as he bounced around the outer colonies, until he had finally arrived at Avalon 5 with a posting as Security Chief.<P>And of course, the problem had followed close behind.<P>"ALAN! I MEAN CHIEF GUNDERSON! We've got a problem in Red 19!" came the shrill cry from behind him. Alan cringed involuntarily. <P>Alan had a strange ability to always know where everyone was, all the time. It was just part of being Security Chief; he kept constant tabs on everything and everyone. He knew every rumor, knew every nook and cranny of this place. But his Second in Command, Helene Richier, managed to evade his best attempts to keep track of her, and then avoid her. The worst thing was that she fawned over him to a point where he felt embarrased talking to other women in front of her.<P>So, his social life ended up being mostly confined to hanging out with the one person he avoided the most. Though he occasionally got away from her long enough to at least attempt to go out with other women. Though some security disaster or another always interrupted any try any social interaction: Gunderson sometimes wondered if Richier manufactured the various security problems around the station. He wouldn't put it past her; she was pretty devious when it came to getting her way.<P>This at least made her a good second in command, which was the reason she had yet to be fired, despite her quirks. Gunderson shook his head sadly and turned around to face the problem.<P>"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me by my first name?" <P>"I'm sorry, Chief, it's just really hard to remember things like that. Besides, I like you, you like me, there's nothing wrong with calling each other by our first names," Helene replied, looking abashed.<P>"Richier, I'm in command. You are my subordinate. If you're too personal with me, we'll both get fired for improper conduct. Got it?" Gunderson asked.<P>"Yes sir!" his second in command replied.<P>"Now, what was the problem, Richier?" Gunderson asked, sighing, realizing that she'd probably already forgotten.<P>"Oh, yes sir! There are some Ontarians fighting with some angry Australians down in a bar in Red 19. Something about which is better, Canadian or Australian beer. A response team is already on it's way down, but I thought you should know."<P>"AGAIN!?! What's wrong with those people... sheesh; tell the response team not to move until I get down there."<P>Gunderson hurried off, wishing that everyone could sit down and agree that Alexander Keiths was a superior beverage. Though Fosters did have it's merits. Perhaps it would be a question for the ages, and a constant source of fodder for bar brawls. And constant action for him. This would mean that he might not be able to meet the ambassador, but that could always come later...
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Postby Nick Pavlovski on Wed Jun 13, 2001 2:25 am

*punt*
This ROCKS!!!! Keep going!
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Postby Darth Avatar on Wed Jun 13, 2001 3:01 am

Ceilidh looked back for a moment at the Ottowan ship that had brought her across so many light years to this... <I>place</I>, was the only word she could think of without feeling like she was insulting something. Smooth, fluid, twisty in design, it resembled something of an extension of the very being that owned it - or at least what anyone outside of the Ottowan homeworld ever saw of such creatures. She thought back for a moment to the Ottowan ambassador, her travelling companion on this trip, still waiting onboard for the "proper time to be introduced." He had answered so many burning questions during their time in hyperspace, and he awakened her mind to so many ideas.<P>And the very memory of these things scared her.<P>Unable to withstand the chill emotion of that strange ship and the creature it contained, the Scottish ambassador forced herself to tear her eyes away and continue along the bay ramp to the Reception Center on the other side of a pair of pneumatically operated doors. Through the transparent plastic of the doors, despite the blur of the Avalon logo airbrushed onto them, she could already see a lone figure waiting, seemingly impatient, for her arrival.<P>He was obviously young, yet probably no younger than herself. As she approached the doors, she was finally able to recognize him from the many still images supplied in her information packet on Avalon 5 personell. <I>Cap-tin Jo-sepf Paje</I>, she thought to herself, trying to remember the correct pronunciation of the Station Commander's name and title.<P>--------------------<P>Joe was peeved. Not irritated. Full-on peeved. Alan was supposed to be here for this momentous meeting, but was still nowhere to be found. Now the Station Commander was out in the cold, having to receive this new ambassador - possibly TWO new ambassadors - all on his own. Worse than that, he still had only five minutes left before he had to be in the History Class of Doom.<P><I>Probably trapped in another last-minute security problem with Helene</I>, he thought to himself. <I>Maybe next week I'll re-assign myself as Chief of Security. It's probably the only way I'd even be able to get close to her...</I><P>Finally, Joe heard the pneumatics on the Reception Room doors actuating and did his best to remove the sour look from his face. The best he could manage, however, was the cold, neutral look that he had practiced well too many times.<P>The Scottish Ambassador stood there at the doors - neutral expression, long brown hair tied in some strange braid, and some kind of navy-blue robes. Joe admitted to himself that she was perhaps attractive, for an alien, perhaps even competition for Helene. Perhaps.<P>"Welcome to Avalon 5, Ambassador <I>Kay-lee</I>," he opened. The welcoming speech was supposed to be longer, but Joe noticed something that distracted him long enough to spurn the ambassador into speaking.<P>"Thank you, Cap-tin Jo-sepf Paje," she replied. "On behalf of the Scottish Government I would like to say..." her speech trailed off as she noticed that the man before her was staring at her quite oddly. "What? What's wrong?" she asked, paranoia growing in her mind.<P>"I don't know how to say this, but," Joe began, once again getting ready to fail in his skills of tactfulness, "you have a dryer sheet stuck to the back of your robes."<P>Somehow, Ceilidh knew that something like this would get in the way of such a momentous event.<P>"Yes," was all she could think to say then. "Yes, of course."
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Postby Coota on Wed Jun 13, 2001 4:53 am

Alan, having pulled on the standard issue A5 Riot Vest and helmet, peeked around the corner of the bar where the argument was taking place. A group of somewhat surly and drunk Canadians were brandishing knives at a bunch of surly and drunk Australians, who were brandishing much larger knives. Both groups were still yelling loudly at each other from their respective sides. Even though he had an urge to side with the Canadians, being one of them, his job was to keep the peace on this station, not pick sides. Now he had to think of a way to defuse the situation. Luckily, all the civilians had cleared out, but Gunderson had a bigger problem than civilian casualties right now.<P>"Did I hear yew correct-lay?" questioned one of the Australians towards a burly looking Canadian.<P>"Yah sure did, eh? We don't want any of you outsiders here; so take your carcass and your oversized cans and walk out an airlock, Aussie," the Canadian spat back.<P>All the Australian's eyes went wide with anger; their apparent leader glared at the Canadian, "Now I don't moind in-selt's tah my par'son, but ins-elts to one of our greatest gods? Yah take that back right now, alien."<P>"Your god is an oversized beer can?" asked the seeming leader of the Canadians.<P>"Yah got a problem with that, canuck?"<P>"Yeah; if you don't admit Alexander Keiths is a better beer than Fosters, I'll shove this knife right into your god."<P>"That's not a knife worthy of being sacrficed to our god in apology! THIS is a knife!" the Australian replied, pulling out a huge, broad and wickedly curved and pointed knife, then slammed it point down into his Foster's can. It was a sacrifice to lose his beer like that, but worth it to apologize to the gods for all the beer that would soon be spilled.<P>The situation was definitely spiraling out of control, if somewhat slowly. The Canadians and Australians were both loathe to spill their beer in a brawl, but they would make that sacrifice if it was neccessary.<P>"Eeeeeeeee!" Helene squealed, closing her eyes tight, and grappling her arms around Gunderson's chest even tighter, "They're going to hurt each other and there's going to be blood everywhere and then the captain is going to yell at us and then you'll get in trouble and then you'll get transferred away and I'll never see you again!!"<P>Gunderson sighed, knowing that it would be impossible to detach Helene from his person. Not without heavy explosives, anyway. He also knew that what she said might be true; even though he didn't relish the idea of having to work with Helene for the next several years, being out of this job would be even worse. Still, he performed his job admirably, despite several distractions, so there was no reason to remove him from his post.<P>But right now, he had more important things to do, like talk the two groups out of killing each other over Fosters vs Alexander Keiths. Shaking his head in resignation, he activated his comm unit, "All right, Response Team Blue; I'm going in, but if you see them make even one move, go in hard and don't come out till they're all unconscious. But don't knock over any of the Alexander's Keiths, or it's coming out of your pay."<P>A chorus of "Yes sirs" replied to his command. Alan took a deep breath and sidled from his vantage point out into the open, his PPG aimed forward. Helene continued to cling onto him, letting out a high pitched squeal which was most likely upsenting some of the more sensitive species on board. The two groups turned to observe the newcomer, but continued pointing their knives at each other.<P>"Now now now, why can't we all solve our problems like civilized people? If you go and start cutting each other, you'll get blood in your beer," Gunderson reasoned, staring intently at them. Helene started to mumble and whine incomprehensively, still attached tightly.<P>"Wot's it to yah, Canadian? Come to help out yer buddies?" the Australian leader questioned, his eyes glinting.<P>"No, if they don't drop their knives, I'll kick their asses too. It's equal opportunity jail time, boys, cause I've got a history class to get to," Gunderson stated simply.<P>"History? Shit! You're not gonna detain us, are you?" one of the Canadians asked, deathly white.<P>"Yes, I'm going to detain you, whether you like it or not. You can sort it out with the Captain and the teacher later," Gunderson stated simply.<P>"Why should we listen to a guy who can't even get a little girl off of him?" questioned another Canadian.<P>Alan gave a long suffering stage sigh and replied, "If you don't drop your knives, you'll all miss the next two *weeks* of school, not just the next day. And CanadaGov and the Australian Empire won't be too happy about that, will they?" <P>The knives all clattered to the floor in fear. It was one thing to get killed or maimed. Missing two weeks of classes? That was a *whole* 'nother ballpark of bad news.<P>Response Team Blue quickly moved in on this cue, arresting all the participants and carting them off to the brig. Helene ventured to open her eyes, finally. But she didn't let go, much to Alan's dismay.<P>"That was GREAT, Alan!" she squealed, and planted a large kiss on Alan's cheek.<P>"Not... in... front... of the TROOPS!" fumed Alan.<P>"Ooooooh, right! Sorry, Chief Gunderson," Helene apologized, then remembered, "Ooooh, we still have time to get to the ambassador's reception during History class!"<P>"Damn! History! Quick, let's move!" Alan realized, jetting off with Helene in tow.
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Postby Coota on Thu Jun 14, 2001 1:58 am

Lt. Commander Bradley shook her head in resignation. The Ambassador from the CentAustralian(Australian for short) Empire had been coming on to her throughout history class, and it was starting to get on her nerves. She would have liked to slug him, but that would have precipitated an international incident, and she'd probably end up being disciplined for interrupting class. Phoebe rolled her eyes at that; it wasn't as if she didn't already know this stuff. The CanadaGov-Scotlandbari(Scottish and Scots for short) War was hard to forget, after all. She didn't understand how her Captain found this class difficult: he had fought in the damn war, for godssakes! He had even scored one of the only CanadaGov victories during the war, if through something of a fluke, and he had gotten a question about that encounter *wrong* on the last test. <P>Phoebe sometimes wondered why he was in charge of this much hardware, but figured that it had to be politics. But still, she was *much* more qualified than Paige. She wondered for a second if her resentment had something to do with her interaction with Paige prior to being assigned her to Avalon 5, but quickly banished that idea from her head. She was only angry because CanadaGov had put an unqualified bozo in a spot where a woman should have been in charge, that was all. <P>Lt. Commander Bradley sighed as class ended, and headed back for C&C, attempting to avoid the Australian Ambassador. As usual, her luck was against her.<P>"Hey sheila! Wait up!" he called to her, quickly catching up with her, despite her best efforts to ignore his calls.<P>"Excuse me, Ambassador, but I find this constant pursuit of me a tad bit unprofessional," Phoebe tried politely.<P>"Awww, cem' on, Commandah Brad-lay! I'm just tryin' tah bridge tha' gap between our races! If anything, sleeping with yah would bring ar' peoples clos-ar togetha'. What do yah say?" Ambassador Iain suggested.<P>Lt. Commander Phoebe Bradley responded with a quick knee to the stomach, not knowing if CentAustralians had groins. Luckily, they must have had stomachs, because Iain dropped to the floor in quite a satisfactory manner.<P>"Oh, I'm sorry Ambassador. I've got a trick knee," she faux apologized, then tapped the communications badge affixed to her hand, "Dr. Montgomery, there's a medical situation in Blue 7. I suggest you make your way up. The Australian Ambassador needs immediate attention."<P>"Your knee had another magnetic attraction to his stomach again, didn't it, Commander?" a female voice came back, dripping with sarcasm.<P>"Hehe... I wouldn't know anything about that. Uh, I'll be in my room if you have any questions for your report; The Ambassador isn't going to be going anywhere for a while, so you don't need to rush," Phoebe replied simply.<P>"Sure, sure. I'm gonna start sending his medical bills to you, Commander. Montgomery out," Dr. Alison Montgomery threatened, then cut the conversation with a beep.<P>Phoebe just shook her head and stalked off towards C&C, leaving Ambassador Iain writhing in agony. <P>----<P>Security Chief Gunderson walked briskly through the halls of Avalon 5, attempting to stay one step ahead of his second in command. History class had gone better than expected, as had his meeting with the Commander afterwards. He'd explained why he wasn't able to accompany Paige to the meeting with the ScotBari ambassador, and had then smoothed things over by promising to be at the get-to-know everyone reception in two hours. It would allow all the new ambassadors who seemed to be arriving from the various corners of the known galaxy a chance to get used to working with each other. Gunderson figured there'd be at least one racial hatred fueled brawl if he wasn't there, and since Paige had promised no fights, Gunderson had to make sure the Captain would be able to keep his word. That was his job, after all.<P>His attempted avoidance of Corporal Richier probably wouldn't work, but he figured it was worth a shot. Suddenly, his com unit beeped twice; he almost jumped at the sound, then calmed himself. "You've really gotta stop drinking coffee, Alan," he stated to himself, "That combined with Richier is really, really gettin' to your nerves."<P>He then spoke into his com unit, "This is Gunderson: go ahead."<P>"Sir, the JapaNarn Regime ambassador is trying to find you; she's at Blue 8 at the moment. She seems somewhat peeved, from the security camera footage."<P>"Thanks for the headsup, control. I'll go see what the problem is," Gunderson replied, grinning. <P>An angry alien ambassador would be much easier to deal with than his second in command's clinging. Hell, a squadron of hostile Scotbari fighters would be easier to deal with than Richier, Gunderson thought to himself.<P>Gunderson eventually maneuvered himself in the ambassador's path, so it would seem to her that she was finding him. He liked to let others think they had the upper hand in situations like this.<P>Nancy'Kawasaki, or Na'Kaw, the JapaNarn Ambassador, bellowed as soon as she saw him, "Mr. Gunderson! When I came aboard, you promised that every member of my delegation would be safe every moment they would be aboard! One of them has gone missing, and I suspect the Australians."<P>"Ah, good to see you again, Na'Kaw. I'd be happy to help you out, if you'd just calm down a bit," Gunderson replied, smiling slyly. She was pretty, for an alien. Clad in a patchwork of leather, with a large, sheathed blade at her back, she strode with a warrior's confident gait. Gunderson knew for a fact that he wouldn't want to get on her bad side, but that the Captain had already managed to piss her off on two seperate occasions. Somehow, Gunderson had managed to obtain her respect to a point, at the least, if not any reprieves from her accusations of general incompetence.<P>"I did not get elected to such a prestigious position as this by being a fool, Mr. Gunderson. Do you think I'm a fool? If you are working for the Australians, you will not live to regret your assumptions!"<P>"Whoah whoah whoah... no accusations here, Na'Kaw; let's just start this from the beginning. You say one of your delegates has gone missing?" Gunderson attampted to pacify her.<P>"Yes! Despite my best efforts, I have yet to find him. I suspect foul play, and I am too busy preparing for the coming Ambassadorial Reception to continue looking. I expect you will prove to me that your assurances of safety were not lies?" Na'Kaw suggested.<P>"Of course, Ambassador. Now, just give me the details, his name, etc, and I'll get to the bottom of this while you go off to plot your entrance to the reception. And all the other important JapaNarn Regime stuff that you do. Don't worry your little leather clad head a bit," Gunderson soothed.<P>Na'Kaw's eyes grew red with fury, but she calmed herself. She needed Gunderson intact, for the moment.
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Postby The Evil Beaver on Thu Jun 14, 2001 11:29 am

*bump*
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Postby Dynonychus on Sat Jun 16, 2001 3:54 am

Deirdre hurried down the passage to the docking areas, chiding herself once more for having lingered overlong at breakfast. She only hoped she wasn't too late. She rounded the corner and stopped. She had thought herself prepared for this moment, but seeing <I>it</I> there in front of her... <P>She couldn't suppress the shudder that shook her spine. The Ottawan ship sat serenely in it's clamps, it's long bow spires twisting out like the horn of a narwhal or a unicorn. Any other visitor might have just seen a smooth, rather interestingly shaped vessel. But to Deirdre...<P>She felt herself being carefully watched. Studied. Assessed and catagorised. She knew that Ottawa ships were alive. <I>Knew</I> this, from textbooks and datafaxes. But to actually be there in it's presence was... disturbing. But there was something else... a driving intelligence behind it's scrutiny.<P>She tapped the crystals on her comunicator. "Captain? This is Deirdre. I'm sorry I was late."<P>Joe's voice returned, "That's all right... things went better than expected, so no harm done. We're getting her settled in right now, and we'll be briefing her on station policy at 1600 if you'd like to sit in. You know, get to know her a bit better."<P><I>Just 'her'</I>? she thought. "Yes, sir. I'll be there." She eyed the ship, eyeing her back. "And what about the Ottawa delegate?"<P>There was some hesitation before he answered. "He's... still aboard his ship. Apparently the 'time isn't right', or something. I don't know... I never could figure out the Ottawans."<P>"Um... yes, sir." For a brief moment, she felt something akin to amusement radiate from the vessel. "I'll be at the breifing, then. Deirdre out."<P>She closed the comm circuit and once more shot a glance at the ship. "Having fun, are you?" she said under her breath.<P>There was no answer, of course. But she did feel it's attentions leave her person and focus themselves to the stern. Almost unconsciously, she followed it's 'gaze'.<P>Within the cavernous interior of the docking bay, she could see another ship enter. Canadian, but with Quebec markings. And a dark triangle painted around and under the nose that many people thought of as a goatee. She inhaled sharply. "Psi Cops!" she breathed.<P>Another wave of amusement swept over her from the otherwise cold and featureless hull of the Ottawa ship.
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Postby Josh Phillips on Sat Jun 16, 2001 10:24 am

Lt. Commander Bradley sat behind the desk in Page's office. She did not move -- not even so much as the batting of her eyes, which were narrowed and focused intently on the two people sitting across the desk from her.<P>Across from Bradley were a short woman and a taller, goateed man. Each wore black uniforms, adorned with a black leather belt and sash. The uniform was designed firstly to intimidate, and secondly to accentuate the gold badge worn on the chest -- the badge which bore the Greek letter Pi. <I>[1]</I><P>Bradley's sneer continued unabated as she thought to herself. "God, I hate Psi-Cops."<P>As if in response to Bradley's thoughts, the woman piped up. "We're here on a goodwill mission, Commander," she said in an annoyingly calm voice -- a voice reminiscent of a customer service professional who hates everyone, yet must behave politely in front of them. "Certainly the Captain would understand, if you would just kindly page him once more."<P>"The Captain understand perfectly well, Ms..." Bradley trailed off, having forgotten the Psi-Cop's name in a fit of scorn.<P>"Lefebvre," she replied. "Pascale Lefabvre."<P>Bradley turned her gaze toward the man, who had yet to say anything since he had arrived. "And your name would be?"<P>The man replied coldly. "Damonk." Slowly, a grin crept onto his face, and he reiterated in a disturbingly jovial manner. "Not Damonk."<P>Bradley's sneer grew. "Charming."<P>Suddenly, Captain Page burst into the room, obviously rushed. But upon entering his office, and seeing his two guests, he stopped abruptly. The look on his face started to mimic Bradley's.<P>The two Psi-Cops stood as Lefabvre spoke. "Ah, hello Captain. We have been waiting to meet you."<P>"So I heard," Page replied gruffly while seating himself beside Bradley. "In fact, I heard about your arrival while introducing the new Scottish ambassador to the station. Considering the unfortunate history between the Scots and Canadians, this was a very unique occassion, one that was very important to me."<P>At this point, Page leaned forward, staring Lefabvre directly into her ambivalent eyes. "But I was interrupted by what you call a 'very urgent situation.' I would like to know what that is now. And if it turns out to be less important than you let on..." He leaned back again. "...I'll be forced to leave you alone with the Commander again."<P>Lefabvre was unfazed by Page's scare tactics. "We come to you with a warning, Captain. An extremely dangerous individual is onboard your station. This individual may have arrived as lately as this morning, and may even be disguised as someone trustworthy, someone of very high status. Your station is in grave danger, Captain, and the only way to prevent it is with *our* help.<P><HR><P>Deirdre was walking through the lobby just outside the docking bay when a strange sensation fell over her. She was suddenly struck by a disorienting feeling.<P>Deirdre stumbled momentarily, and when she looked up, she was not quite sure of where she was. She felt as though nothing around her was as it appeared. The various civilians milling around the area were reduced to sillouhettes, rendered completely unimportant to her... yet objects like potted shrubberies stood out, almost as though they demanded attention... as though they knew something she didn't.<P>Then, as quickly as the sensation came to her, it was gone. She stood in the middle of the lobby, completely still and afraid to move from her spot. Finally, after about a minute of looking around and seeing things as "normal," she slowly walked out of lobby and toward the central corridor.<P>As she left, she did not notice the shadowy figure hiding behind a shrub near an information terminal. The figure stepped out of his hiding spot to watch Deirdre as she walked away. The figure was shrouded in twistiness, obscured from view by an almost-sadistic aura. He was an Ottawan.<P>"Excellent," he said, in a cryptic, other-worldly manner. "She will adapt well to the storyline."<P><HR><P><I>[1] Despite their constant endeavours to control information and spread propoganda, it is common knowledge throughout Canada that the Psi Corps is severely low on cash. It was because of this shortage of funds that, when a certain higher-up within the Corps ordered a batch of badges bearing the Greek letter "Pi," no one was there to notice the typo and fix it by the time the badges were produced.</I><P>JOSH.
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Postby Cannonshop on Sun Jun 17, 2001 5:28 am

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Postby Dynonychus on Sun Jun 17, 2001 8:17 am

In the central corridor, Deirdre found a suitably secluded alcove and leaned back against the station's bulkhead, rubbing her temples. <I>Too early</I>, she thought, closing her eyes. <I>That's got to be it... it's just too damn early</I>. She didn't bother to remember that she most often awake at this time anyway... she was feeling a bit shaken, and right now what she needed was a convenient scapegoat for her momentary lapse.<P>"Are you all right, miss?" asked a friendly voice close beside her.<P>She turned, slowly opening her eyes. "Yeah, just a bit dizzy, thank y..." She stopped, voice caught in her throat.<P>The first thing she focused on was the silvery <I>pi</I> symbol on the badge over his left breast. She then took in the rest of the black uniform before actually focusing on the face. Though he wore the uniform well, it didn't fit his face, which was kindly and bespectacled, topped by a neatly combed coif of dark brown hair. He looked rather young, too, though worry lines creased his eyes and forehead, making his true age nearly impossible to determine.<P>"Oh, I'm sorry," they both started together. They stopped and looked at each other curiously. Then when he started to laugh, she couldn't help but join in.<P>He recovered quickly, though he was still smiling... a broad, genuine smile, and extended a gloved hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Ryan Aberdeen, and I'm pleased to meet you."<P>Deirdre looked at his hand for a brief moment, then carefully took it in her own. Shaking hands was not exactly a common practice in the Corps, and for good reason. But neither did she feel like insulting this... young man by letting his hand remain suspended alone in space. They shook, then he slowly turned her hand up, noticing her gloves for the first time, it seemed.<P>"You're the station's resident telepath, aren't you?"<P>She laughed, nodding. "Deirdre Bradley. You just now noticed?" She tapped the Psi Corps badge on her suit with her left hand. <I>It's usually the </I>first<I> thing most men notice</I>, she thought to herself. He blushed suddenly, and only then she realised they were still holding hands. They let each other go and stepped back a half pace.<P>"I'm sorry," they both started again. This time he nearly doubled over laughing, and had to sit on the large case he had been carrying. He took his glasses off and wiped his eyes. "You know, if we're going to have a proper conversation, we're going to have to stop reading each other's minds." He looked up at her, smiling, and shot her a wink to let her know he was joking.<P>Deirdre found herself smiling in spite of herself. She was starting to like this guy. But still...<P>"I hope you'll forgive me, but you don't... you don't <I>seem</I> like a Psi Cop..."<P>Aberdeen swiveled on the case to face her. "Provisional member," he said, tapping his silver badge. "I'm only a p7, but I handle electronic intelligence and counter-intel. A 'digital teep", if you would." His smile grew thin, then vanished. "I work with the computers while the others deal with people."<P>"A p7 rating isn't exactly on the low end. I'm a p7."<P>"Really? Well, I suppose it <I>is</I> pretty good, but it's relatively low for a Psi Cop. Anyway, I prefer it this way... I had wanted to be an electronic engineer before I was indoctrinated into the Corps. Now I can do both." His smile returned.<P>Just then his communicator beeped. He glanced at it and swore. "Sorry I have to cut this short," he said, standing up and grabbing the case, "but I've got to get this stuff set up."<P>As he hurried down the corridor, Deirdre watched him go. "I'll see you around, Mr. Aberdeen," she said thoughtfully to herself.<p>[This message has been edited by Dynonychus (edited 06-17-2001).]
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Postby Coota on Sun Jun 17, 2001 9:21 am

Gunderson stood barking out orders to the various security personnel rushing around the reception area. The catering staff had been sweeped for weaponry and other such things, and the security team was now focused on setting up concealed weapons scanners to make sure that the various guests stayed honest. The reception would begin in only twenty minutes, and would most likely be interesting enough without weapons, anyway. Many species gathering in one room, each with it's own hidden agenda, all harboring some secret hate or other for some other species, led to a generally hairy situation. But Captain Page seemed confident that things would work out, that nothing would go wrong, because he had set up a pool table in the middle of the reception area. <P>"Pool is a universal language, Mr. Gunderson!" the Captain had assured his security chief.
Gunderson did believe in the power of pool, but after seeing what had gone down earlier in the day... he wondered if this whole thing might blow up in their faces before it even took off. Well, it wasn't his business to wonder too deeply about this kind of thing: that was the Captain's job, and when he needed help, CanadaGov's thinkers back home would back him up.<P>Gunderson did look forward to one thing at this reception: he was *very* interested in meeting this new Scotbari Ambassador. He'd seen the views of her on the station security cameras, and *damn* she was cute! Of course, he'd made a point not to try and pick up any Scotbari girls: they always left you guessing about *everything*. Not that that was very different from girls from any other planet. Even Helene, the most straightforward girl he knew, confused him constantly. <P>As if on cue, his comm unit beeped. Gunderson broke off from his orders to the various personnel and raised the system to his lips.<P>"This is Gunderson; go ahead."<P>"ALAN!" came the shrill cry from the comm unit, causing Gunderson to attempt and muffle the sound, but not succeeding. "You're going to be soooo proud! I found a use of Aide Ta'Non's credit chit in Brown 11 at 0900 yesterday, an hour before he was supposed to report in to Ambassador Na'Kaw; then I checked the security cameras for that area, and saw a JapaNarn matching his description going towards the less inhabitated areas of Brown 11! I bet that's where he is!"<P>Gunderson was amazed; he had known that his second in command was competent, but this was incredible. It had taken her only two hours to go through the databases and discover that little data point. Even on his best days, it took him three or four to find pieces of information that tiny. Still, he couldn't let her know that he was impressed: he'd never hear the end of it.<P>Gunderson replied, in a heavily sarcastic tone, "Oh, that's great, Helene: we know he entered, yesterday, a part of the station that connects to every other down below sector. I'm sure he's just sitting around there, waiting for us to pick him up."<P>"But... but... I thought you'd be happy," Helene stuttered over the comm.<P>"If you had the aide with you right now, I'd be happy. Instead, you give me a vague notion of where he might have been over THIRTY HOURS AGO!! Goddamnit, Richier, you need to learn how to do your job right," Gunderson stated.<P>Alan could tell she was beginning to sniffle on the other end of the line. Still, she was trying her best to keep it back. "I'm... sorry Alan... I mean Chief Gunderson... what am I supposed to do?" she sniffed.<P>"What do you think, Officer Richier?? Go down there in full gear and look for him yourself, for all I care!" replied Alan in his best angry officer voice, then shut off the comm before she could start crying.<P>Alan wondered for a second if he was being too harsh, and then shrugged it off. Maybe she might just get the hint that he wasn't interested in her, and that he didn't want her tagging along with him 24/7. Maybe if she worked this case, she might finally be a little more independent. Security Chief Gunderson figured that was too much to hope for, but it was always a possiblity. <P>Still, he'd done things like this before, like giving her riot duty during Drazi Mating season, putting her on the drunk pick-up shift in Down Below, and 'accidentally' spraying her with that cat smell that made her irresitable to Pak'mara. He still couldn't believe that they'd actually attempted to eat her, but that should have made her realize he didn't like her. Instead, she had interpreted in the most optimistic way possible, assuming that he wouldn't have pulled her out of that alien's mouth if he didn't really care about her.<P>Gunderson shook thoughts of Helene out of his head and went back to getting ready for the reception. Maybe if he could pick up an attractive alien, Helene would get the hint...<P>----------<P>Helene had finally stopped crying about ten minutes after Alan... Chief Gunderson had hung up. She hated dissapointing him, and she'd done her worst job yet. She sometimes wondered if she was even worth such a great guy, if maybe she should just give him up to someone who could do things right, if maybe she should just go and find someone who wasn't as perfect as Alan. But whenever she hit the bottom like that, she'd just remember when he told her things like "Good job, Richier" and "Nice work" and "Ok, we can grab something to eat after work, but you have to wear this wig." <P>Then she would realize that she was worth such a great guy, and all she had to do was prove it. She didn't like all this looking for dead bodies, investigating and getting shot at, but she'd requested transfer to the security division just because she knew Alan would need her by his side. What she really wanted to do was join up with the archeology division, but she knew that going off and selfishly pursuing her own goals would be like stabbing Alan in the back.<P>So, here she was, down in Brown 11, with a Heavy PPG Rifle slung over her back, a PPG pistol in her boot holster, another PPG pistol in her hands, wearing full riot armor. She'd find that JapaNarn, she'd find evidence, she'd be the best darn security officer *ever*! Now she just had to figure out how to go about doing that...<P>"Yoooooooo-hoo! Mr. Ta'Non! Come on out... I'd prefer you to be alive, because I don't want to drag your yucky, decaying corpse back!" Helene yelled as bravely as she could manage, which still came out somewhat timidly.<P>Still, a scared blonde girl with a slight French accent carrying enough weaponry to take on a tank battalion is not the most inviting target for most muggers, so Helene was basically safe. After a few calls, Helene gave up on attracting the JapaNarn, and opted for just looking for him. After all, if he was going to answer her, he would have. Besides, he might be lying around unconscious, and her voice might somehow push him into a coma or something. She wasn't sure if that could actually happen, but she did not want to risk Alan's displeasure.<P>After about thirty minutes of searching, deeper and deeper into Brown sector, she heard voices around the corner. She wasn't sure what species was speaking; the accent was trade dialect; a form of english spoken by every species<P>"Where'd you drop it?!"<P>"I thought your job was placement!"<P>"No, that was your job!" <P>"Look, what's the point of doing this if they can't find it?"<P>"I know, I know... wait, here it is... good; those security guys should find it easy now, even if they are stupid...; and led by a guy who isn't willing to admit that his little second in command is the one really running the show."<P>Helene wasn't quite sure what they meant, but she was sure that no one was supposed to be in this area of Down Below: the area was a light industrial, non-personnel area. She stepped out into the open and yelled to the two.<P>"Hey! What are you two doing down here? Did you get lost? Do you need help? Did you happen to see a JapaNarn around here somewhere?" she questioned quickly, happy that anyone else was around.<P>Then she noticed the two were wearing masks and gloves to conceal their species... and that they were carrying large, obviously illegal PPGs. Illegal, because noone else on the station was supposed to have rifles, besides security. The pair just stared at her for a second. Helene attempted diplomacy, not wanting to hurt anybody.<P>"Um... hi! I'm Officer Richier, and you two do know that you're not allowed to carry those, right? I know how these things can happen; I once woke up in a box with postage to the Pak'mara homeworld on my forehead. So, if you just put those down and come with me, I'm sure we can work this whole situation out," Helene announced, putting her best smile on, her mouth being the only obviously visible part of her face.<P>The two just looked at each other again and raised their rifles at her. Helene suddenly realized that diplomacy had failed, and dodged behind the corner she'd just come around as a stream of phased plasma slammed past her into the bulkhead. <P>"Ok... what would Alan do in this situation? What would Alan do in this situation?" she asked herself repeatedly, her heart beating fast.<P>Then she smiled and knew exactly what she should do in this situation. Or at least what Alan did whenever he got into one of these things. She checked her pistol to make sure it was on full power while simultaneously unslinging the rifle and setting it to full auto. She then waited for a pause in the fire and stepped out of her hiding place while the two figures were reloading. She then proceeded to unload the entire magazines of both weapons in the general direction of said two figures.<P>Needless to say, when the steam from the energy output finally cleared, the two had long ago run off. They had decided that dealing with an insane security officer just wasn't worth what they were being paid. Helene smiled and just muttered, "Alan, you are sooooooo smart!" and walked up the pile the two figures had been examining.<P>There lay the body of the JapaNarn aide, with several large blade wounds in his back. A CentAustralian knife lay beside him, encrusted with blood. Helene would have fainted if she'd been confronted with this at any other time, but right now she just let out a yip of glee. "Alan is going to be so happy!! He might even take me out without a wig on!" she giggled, then called up a Security Team to check the site for further evidence and bring the body to the doctor.<P>------------<P>Dr. Alison Montgomery felt one of those migraines coming on again. The kind she got whenever she had to speak with Gunderson or his clingy little sidekick, Richier. Actually, she'd been getting them from all over recently: it seemed that everyone on this station was insane or slow. She'd say that it was something in the water, but she had tested it, just in case. Maybe it was the air. She hadn't tested the air yet.<P>"Yes, Officer Richier, I said it *looks* like a CentAustralian did this, and it *looks* like you have fingerprints and even motive," Alison began again, for the fifth time since she'd finished her autopsy.<P>"So, all I have to do is arrest him and Al... Chief Gunderson can interrogate him, and we'll have solved the mystery!" Helene answered cheerfully, again for the fifth time.<P>"No, no, no, noooooooo! Just LISTEN: this is a PERFECT crime scene. The knife wounds are *perfect*. The fingerprints are *perfect*. Everything is perfect, and you said you saw two people standing over the body, who then attempted to kill you. This was NOT a CentAustralian vegeance over Fosters!" Montgomery explained, going slowly just in case.<P>"But you just said...," Helene began.<P>"Ssssh!" Alison held her hand up, taking a long sip from the drink box she perpetually grasped in her hand, then began again, "I'm trying to get you to figure out that someone made it *look* like a CentAustralian. On PURPOSE."<P>"But why would anyone do that?" Helene wondered.<P>"Why do you keep going after a guy who obviously doesn't like you?"<P>"He does *too* like... I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about," Helene attempted.<P>"Relax, it was a rhetorical question. I don't know why anyone would do this. I do know that tensions are up right now between *all* the species. Something to do with the big alliance going down here on Avalon 5. Maybe someone is trying to take advantage of that. I don't know: I'm just a doctor. What I do know is that you and Chief Gunderson better figure it out, or you're going to have some bigger problems than a dead JapaNarn on your hands," Dr. Montgomery pointed out, sipping from her drink box again.<P>"Wow... I can't believe anybody would be that mean...," Helene mused.<P>"And I can't believe you're a security officer. But the universe never ceases to confound either of us, even if it is a little bit easier on your side of the fence," Alison replied.<P>"Huh?" Helene came out of her musings.<P>"Oh, nothing: just take this datapad to your boss, and don't tell him that a woman figured this out before he did, or he'll sit on it, and we'll all be in trouble," Alison warned Officer Richier.<P>"If that's what you think is best, Dr. Montgomery... ooooh, do you want to go out after work? I'm gonna ask Lt. Commander Bradley and all the other girl officers too, and then we can have a big slumber party...," Helene began.<P>"Um, I'll think about it: maybe I'll join you for going out, but I might have to pass on the slumber party," Alison replied, stepping back and going off to look busy, hastily sipping on the seemingly unemptiable juice box.<P>Helene dashed off to make her official report; she couldn't wait until Alan got back from the reception. There was no way he could be angry at her this time!<P>((the reception is going on at this time, so go ahead and do the stuff in the reception; I'm leaving for South Dakota tommorrow morning, and won't be back till Friday afternoon, so feel free to continue with this storyline. You can take it any way you like; I just did the broad outlines. Have fun, and I can't wait to get back and start working on this again!))
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Postby Mark Jefferys on Mon Jun 18, 2001 4:21 am

Phoebe continued to stare and sneer with equal fervor as Ms. Lefebvre concluded her briefing. More like directive, really.<P>"Station personnel are not to approach this man. He is dangerous, and only Psi-Cops are equipped to deal with him. Remember that we are keeping you in the loop as a courtesy only." The Psi-Cop was scowling by the end of this, although her voice remained perfectly level.<P>Captain Page seemed more annoyed than anything else to Phoebe's eyes. Little surprise there. "If this former Psi-Cop is likely disguised as someone, how are we supposed to avoid him? And do you honestly expect us to do nothing when we have a possible infiltrator on our hands?"<P>Ms. Lefebvre returned his look coolly. "You will do nothing because we tell you to do nothing. This is a Psi-Corps matter, not CanadaGov. If you do become suspicious of anyone you will, of course, immediately inform us and then stay out of our way until we have dealt with him."<P>The Captain leaned forward in his chair, a twinkle in his eye and a half-smile on his lips. "Last time I checked, Psi-Corps was part of CanadaGov." Joseph Page had always been hopelessly naive as Phoebe saw it. He sighed. "Very well. I don't like it, but then I doubt you care. I will have my people informed." The glance he gave Phoebe clearly handed the job to her. Couldn't he do anything on his own? Standing, he added, "Now, unless there is anything else you wish to 'keep me in the loop' about, eh?"<P>Mr. Damonk interrupted. "Actually, yes. I believe that your resident commercial telepath arrived in the last few days. We would like to speak to this 'Deirdre...'" He paused, looking up from the note pad he had just pulled out. Phoebe shivered; Not Damonk was smiling, and looking straight at her. "Is this a family affair?"<P>Phoebe felt the colour drain from her face. She had been so busy, she hadn't had time to look into the matter of the new telepath yet. Captain Page had had to meet her without the normal presence of the station's second in command. But surely Joe would have mentioned... One look at his sheepish grin, and she changed her mind. She would be feeling angry if she wasn't so stunned.<P>"I'm sure Lt. Commander Bradley can take care of these matters without my help," the Captain tossed out as he hurried from his office. Phoebe watched him leave with her jaw open.<P>Closing it abruptly, she steadied herself and spoke, carefully. "Yes, I have an older sister in the Psi-Corps. I'll see if I can get in contact with her." She stood, walked to the AvaCom unit on the wall, and pressed the station communications button. "Deirdre Bradley, please." With luck, her sister would be out somewhere.<P>Deirdre appeared on the view-screen, smiling, in what was was presumably her quarters. She was dressed as though she were going out. And she was wearing a Psi-Corps badge. At least hers wasn't a silly Pi one... "Well, if it isn't my little sister, Feebs."<P>Phoebe thought she had gotten over the shock of discovering that her older sister was on board. Only the shock could have made her think that. But now that she could see the truth with her own eyes... She spoke without thinking. "Deirdre?! I thought you were in Guelph!"<P>"Psi-Corps training doesn't last forever, sis. 'Sides, I couldn't really handle staying there any longer than necessary. I had to go elsewhere." Deirdre shook her head. "So what's up? How are Mom and Dad? And Noelle?"<P>Anger flashed through Phoebe. "If you had kept in contact at all... You shouldn't have come here. Noelle ran away, Deirdre, and it's all your fault!" Suddenly she stopped as she *felt* eyes boring into the back of her head, and she remembered that she wasn't alone. Quickly, she cut the conversation short. "You're needed here in Captain Page's office, ASAP."<P>Deirdre looked ashen, but replied immediately. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Out." The screen switched back to the usual AvaCom logo.<P>Phoebe turned around to look at the two Psi-Cops. Ms. Lefebvre was apparently studying the gilded station model standing on the side table. Mr. Damonk had started smiling again. Or had he never stopped... He sounded amused as he spoke. "Family problems? I don't suppose your runaway has any Psi ability like your sister? If so, I could offer my services in finding her. But you could hardly refuse my help then, now could you?"<P>She suppressed the surge of rage only because kicking a Psi-Cop might actually be more trouble than she was willing to deal with at the moment. In any case, she already had a good idea where her little sister was hiding. "She's not a blip, if that's what you're asking."<P>Not Damonk did not respond.<P>Despite having run off, Noelle had been far more communicative than Deirdre. She had gotten at least two messages from her---text only, and completely untraceable, directly. But she had signed them both "No'elle", and that affectation pointed in only one direction. Not that the Japanese would be of any assistance; Noelle was old enough to make her own choices as they figured things. And if they suspected she was a relative of a telepath---and young enough to still have even a slim change of being latent---they would never let her out of their sight.<P>She activated her link. "Mr. Gunderson? I have some bad news."<P>[Edit: speling.]
<p>[This message has been edited by Mark Jefferys (edited 07-01-2001).]
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Postby Cannonshop on Tue Jun 19, 2001 3:40 am

Punt
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Postby The Evil Beaver on Wed Jun 20, 2001 3:58 am

*bump*
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Postby Cannonshop on Wed Jun 20, 2001 8:19 am

Na'Kaw eyed the man skeptically, "You're sure this is going to work?" she asked, adding, "Because, you know, if it doesn't, I may become annoyed with you..." The man nodded frantically, "It WILL work, Ambassador, just like I promised."(or I'm a dead man...) he thought frantically. Her demeanor brightened, "Excellent! Here is your fee." She handed him a datacrystal. He took it without further comment, and slipped quickly back into the shadows of Downbelow.
(We will see who trumps who, indeed, we will see...) she thought, and departed, using a different path than the one she entered by.
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Postby Cannonshop on Thu Jun 21, 2001 5:32 am

"PUNT!!!"
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Postby Cannonshop on Sat Jun 23, 2001 8:41 am

Punt.
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Postby Guest on Thu Jun 28, 2001 7:24 am

*bump*
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Postby eldersphinx on Sat Jun 30, 2001 10:16 am

Alan slipped into Avalon 5's main reception area, tugging his uniform into place and doing his best not to appear out of breath. Nobody seemed to have noticed his late arrival, or if they had they weren't commenting on it. Alan didn't blame them - the place was hopping, with members of at least half a dozen races mingling, talking, and generally having a good time. "Looks like partying's the same wherever you go," he muttered to himself, with a private grin.<P>He glanced around the room, looking for old friends or new troubles. None of the latter seemed to present themselves - probably because he'd sent Helene off on her own instead of letting her hang around him, he reflected. In the other category, though, Joe was standing alone near the drinks table along the far wall, holding a glass of something and taking a minute's breather before diving back into the mess. Alan began to move in that direction, sidestepping a group of four CentAustralians beginning a fairly rowdy impromptu dance number, ducking around a discussion between a JapaNarn and three Canadians, and sliding along the wall until he reached Joe.<P>"Hey, boss," Alan said as he reached the Captain's side. "Not going too shabby, huh?"<P>"Not bad at all, Alan," Joe replied absently. "And you said pool wouldn't be able to smooth things over here."<P>"I didn't say that!" Alan protested. "Besides, I'm <I>really</I> not sure that giving some of these people a long, weighted stick to focus their frustrations is a good idea. Like the JapaNarn ambassador..."<P>Joe didn't reply to Alan's jibe immediately, and the security chief stopped his habitual scan of the room to take a closer look at his friend. "Boss? Hey, Joe? Why are you watching the Scotbari ambassador that closely?"<P>"Huh? Oh, uh, nothing - just, uh, wondering why she's holding her pool cue that way. Never seen a grip like that before."<P>Alan looked more closely. "Neither have I... actually, if she hits the cue ball like that, I think it might be a good idea for us to - DUCK!"<P>Alan's command, and the reflexive drop to the floor that it engendered in both boys, was the only thing that prevented the wildly-flying pool ball from connecting with one of their skulls, rather than flying over their heads and bouncing off the wall behind. "Still convinced of the power of pool, boss?" Alan asked, as they both picked themselves up.<P>Joe muttered something under his breath, and retrieved the cue ball before standing. "I think I'd better show her how it's done. Coming, Chief?" Alan shrugged, and followed Joe over to the table.<P>The Scotbari ambassador was smiling regretfully as the two approached. "My apologies, Captain, for - "<P>"No problem," Joe responded, waving a reassuring hand. "I think I could demonstrate some of the tricks to you, though - "<P>"Let me handle that, Joe," said a female voice from behind the two boys. Alan twisted his head towards the speaker, and recognized Deirdre Bradley, the station's telepath. As she spoke, she snaked out a hand and took the cue ball from Joe's fingers, then stepped over to the table. "It's my shot, after all."<P>Joe had apparently been surprised by Deirdre's arrival, because he hadn't said a word. Now he opened his mouth to say something - probably a crack about not taking orders from tall, long-haired, telepathic chicks, given the history between the two of them - but realized that the Scotbari ambassador was watching them, and shut it with a snap. Deirdre grinned, and placed the cue ball in the nearest corner of the table. "Eight ball in the far corner," she announced.<P>"Deeds.. are you sure?" Joe asked. Alan didn't blame him. Not only did other pool balls block the only direct path from the cue ball to the eight ball, but at least four balls were clustered near the pocket that the telepath had called.<P>"Trust me," Deirdre replied, and laid her cue down to aim. She took two short strokes to check her grip, then stroked forwards, sending the cue ball forward. It bounced off a side wall, came up behind the eight ball, and knocked the black sphere across the table. As the eight ball rolled, its path began to <I>curve</I>, and it glided around the mass of balls blocking the corner pocket, and dropped in without a sound.<P>Applause echoed from the spectators gathered around the pool table. The Scotbari ambassador joined in, watching Deirdre speculatively. "A remarkable shot," she commented. "I don't suppose it involved telekinesis?"<P>"Of COURSE not!" said a Canadian man standing across the pool table from Joe and Alan. He was dressed all in black, with a neat goatee and a calculating look in his eyes, and a Pi pin on his lapel. "Although we might sometimes wish otherwise, PsiCorps has never managed to develop a true telekinetic talent. The best we've managed is mind-readers." His smile was possibly meant to be deprecating, but came out closer to wolfish.<P>"That's right," Joe commented. He turned to the new arrival. "I'm not sure that we've met?"<P>"I don't believe we have, Captain," the man replied. "Although I have spoken with your executive officer. My name is Damonk, with the PsiCops."<P>Joe opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sudden susurration of activity in the room. All of a sudden, everybody seemed to be breaking off prior conversations, and turning to face the main entrance to the reception area. Joe glanced over in that direction - and he froze.<P>Framed in the doorway was the bulky, encounter-suited form of an Ottawan. The Ottawans were incredibly rare and incredibly reclusive - nobody had ever been to their home planet, or seen one in the flesh. Passing-period rumor said that to sight an Ottawan outside its encounter suit was to be driven irrevocably insane, too preoccupied with the 'twistiness' of the universe to be able to think or function. The Ottawan didn't speak, but just glided forwards, straight towards Joseph Page. Beings of all races backed out of its way as it approached, and an open space quickly opened up in front of Joe.<P>"Ambassador Josh," Joe began, as the Ottawan reached him. "It's an honor to meet you. Welcome to Avalon 5."<P>The Ottawan still didn't speak. It had come to a stop maybe a meter away from Joe... and it now stood there, motionless, looking for all the world like a post-modernist statue.<P>And then it slowly began to topple forwards, towards Joe.<P>Joe reacted instantly, stepping in towards the Ottawan and wedging a shoulder under the chestplate of the encounter suit. "Crap, it's heavy!" he shouted. "Alan, give me a hand!"<P>Alan stepped forwards, stepping to Joe's left and pushing up; he could see Deirdre moving to the captain's right to do the same thing. He'd barely gotten his back into it when the Ottawan began to shift to the right; it tottered for a second, but then Joe had moved to the right and caught the statue fully. Between Joe and Alan, the encounter suit was soon back on what passed for its feet.<P>"Whew," Joe breathed in relief, and turned to look at Deirdre. "Alright, Ms. Bradley, why'd you back out from - " He stopped for a moment. "Deirdre? Deeds?"<P>The telepath's face was bloodless, her hand still frozen to the spot where it had first touched the Ottawan. Ambassador Josh had moved since then, but she hadn't. Her lips were open slightly, as if trying to speak; her eyes were glassy, and focused on something beyond the horizon. Suddenly, something seemed to snap, and she shook herself back into a semblance on normalcy.<P>"He's out there, Captain," Deirdre said quietly, without any emphasis on any of the words at all. "The renegade that the PsiCops are searching for. He's on the station, he's not just here to hide, and he did this to the Ottawan. He's <B>OUT THERE</B>."
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Postby Mark Jefferys on Sun Jul 01, 2001 3:24 am

Lt. Commander Bradley tried to focus on editing the daily shipping report, but she barely saw the words on her view screen. She was still too angry. <I>How could Deirdre possibly have taken that so calmly.</I> She pushed the thought away and re-read the last sentence. Only in deep space could dried beef jerky be considered a luxury food-stuff. It was more expensive than spoo!<P>Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention; one of the Techs was walking toward her, carrying a few pages.<P>"Lt. Mzacher," Phoebe snapped at him. "I hope those aren't more of your doodles!" The man was talented enough as an artist, but C&C wasn't the time or place to be practicing. She had never caught him doodling on the job, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.<P>The Lieutenant snapped to attention. "No, Ma'am! I have the draft of the daily power report. For you." He handed the pages to her. They were all text and graphs. "There is nothing to report except a small spike in power use recorded in Brown Sector. Ma'am."<P>Phoebe sighed. Looking over the report, it was hardly worth mentioning on a normal day, which today was not. He clearly needed a hint on what to do. "Some Lurker tapping into the power system again," she told him. "Send someone to Brown 11 to check the wiring."<P>He nodded. "Already done. Facilities says they'll look at it some time next week." He waited until she dismissed him, and then walked back towards his station.<P>Phoebe stared out the window as the stars slowly turned around the station's axis. They made her slightly dizzy, but she stared anyway. She clearly wasn't getting anything done. <I>I should be at the reception,</I> she thought. She couldn't go. She wouldn't go. Not with Deirdre there; nor the Psi-Cop.<P>Dealing with the Psi-Cops' business had gone not much worse than could be expected. Deirdre had been told a shortened version of the same story the Psi-Cops gave to the Captain and her. She, however, was "allowed" play a role in the search.<P><I>"You are to wander around Green Sector, to see if you sense anything wrong about one of the ambassadors or their aides," Ms. Lefebvre told her. "No active scanning! And don't follow anyone. Report any of your suspicions to one of us."<P>Phoebe interrupted her. "All of the ambassadors and aides will be at the reception. She's as likely to run into one in Green Sector as in Downbelow." She was glad for anything that might put the Psi-Cops off-kilter, but this was stretching. There would only be a few hours wait until the reception ended. Ms. Lefebvre did look slightly annoyed, though. She was tapping her fingers. </I>Good.<I><P>But Mr. Damonk was gleeful at the news. "All of the ambassadors and their aides in one place? Perfect!" He rubbed his hands together in a most disturbing way. "Is there an open invitation? No matter." He looked at Deirdre. "Ms. Bradley, we will both attend this reception!"</I><P>When the Psi-Cops left was when Phoebe's mood went downhill.<P><I>"JapaNarn huh?" Deirdre sounded </I>relieved!<I> "Might do her some good. A little impulsive of her, but this is Noelle we're talking about. Don't look so surprised! Narn fits her independent streak."<P>She wasn't about to let Deirdre avoid her responsibility. "She wouldn't have run off at all if she weren't following the example set by her eldest sister! We knew nothing about where you had gone until we got the forms to fill out from Psi-Corps. It was the same thing all over again with Noelle."<P>"Look, I'm sorry for not letting you know what I was up to, but you know that Mom and Dad weren't exactly on speaking terms with me." Deirdre sighed and continued, "I wasn't feeling welcome, and I had had enough of the sleepers. You don't know what those are like, Phoebe. They slowly sap your will to live, and I couldn't go on like that. I went to the local Psi-Corps offices, told them I had changed my mind, and the next thing I knew I was on a transport to Guelph.<P>"And contacting you afterwards wasn't exactly encouraged. </I>'The Corps is Mother; The Corps is Father.'<I> You must have heard that phrase. I might not have been raised by the Corps, but they still treated me like they had." She paused. "Even if they were happy to let me talk to you, it wouldn't have made any difference.<P>"Feebs, from everything you've told me, Noelle had her own reasons for leaving, as I did. My disappearance didn't push her into running away, and you know it."</I><P>And that was why Phoebe was in a bad mood---that and the Psi-Cops. Deirdre was right; she wasn't really to blame for Noelle rushing off to the Japanese. Phoebe was angry at herself for not being able to blame Deirdre. She was being silly; she should just head down to the reception, play some pool, maybe even keep an eye on the Psi-Cop. It would do her some good. She...<P>Her link chirped at her. "This is Bradley. This had better be good!"<P>"It's not." Captain Page's voice came through the link. It didn't sound happy.<P>"Sorry Captain. What disaster has befallen us now?"<P>"I need you to lock down all docking traffic. I'm declaring the station sealed; no one gets in or out. It looks like our friends' renegade Psi-Cop decided to act at the reception, and Ambassador Josh is the victim."<P>Phoebe's eyes closed. "This means that the reception is over, doesn't it?"<P>
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Postby Cannonshop on Sun Jul 01, 2001 9:33 am

The Protests from Transports, both waiting to enter, and leave, began flooding almost immediately into C&C, Some of them quite adamant-insisting that THEIR cargoes were clean, or, that They had NOTHING to do with whatever had caused the Lockdown. "Commander Bradley, I simply MUST be allowed to Dock/Leave, We're on a Tight Schedule/Mercy mission/Diplomatic Business..." The voices were, after a few minutes, all the same, and Phoebe's nerves were getting worn.
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