MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 01:14 PM

Farkin lifted another huge shovel-full of Plutonium chips and slammed them into the fuel-port of the Enterprise's reactor. It was hot work, and the ice-man could feel the icicles forming on his chin and nose. His boots were quite full of slush now, and a large pool of water had formed within his work-space. He glanced over at the Foreman, a lazy Maltoonian who had his nose buried in a copy of Playcreature's Girls of the Known Universe. Farkin had been employed in the Enterprise Engine Room for 143 years, and knew everything there was to know about its operation. He had applied several times for the Foreman position, but his application was invariably overlooked. "Snowcones", as the Ice-Giants of the Third Moon of Jupiter were disparagingly called, were seldom considered management material.

Farkin glanced at his wristwatch. Five more hours of toil and melting until his shift was done. Someday, he thought, they'll realize that an ice-giant's mind is like a recording device: Everything Farkin had ever seen or heard was archived in his brain. From the depths of his mind, he summoned up one of the old songs that had been sung by the man who trained him at his job so many years ago, Dylan Woodrow. The man was at least 1/2 Terran, and he told Farkin that he owned a replication system that had been passed through his family since time immemorial. He called it a Fonogram, and it had taught him many of the ancient so-called Sacred Songs. Farkin began to sing in his low rumbling voice

"Mike Eisner's seen the Glory..."

and he stopped. That was the version taught him by the digital recordings in the Library of the Enterprise. Woodrow's had been different. Farkin began again

"Mine eyes have seen the Glory
Of the Coming of the Lord..."

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Peter T.
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 02:08 PM

She was taking her time. Boukay opened his fieldbook again.

2584:05.7 - I don't know what to do. I sit in my room with my machine, listening to the other songs sung at the funeral, just to get Polgarrian cowboy accents down, I guess, and to work up some courage to hunt down what is going on. I do not want anyone else to die because of me, because of my curiosity about old earth songs. I hear the whipping of the wind over the grass, the solemn phrases of the preacher. Then the voices are raised in a sweet version of "Mike Eisner's Seen the Glory" -- you can hear the rhythm of the Earthling roots, even in these gypsy cowboys. Then I wind all the way back to the first recording of the cowboy singing. I am so depressed by it all: and frightened. I push the button, and he sings, so alive. I come to the end of the song, and am about to turn it off, when there is a high, modulating wail that intercepts the noise of my getting up and preparing to pack my equipment. I do not remember hearing it at the time. It is a funny sound. For a moment I think it is accidental, and then I have an inspiration: perhaps it is a Cybanian calloide -- the famous secret woman's slave tongue, pitched too high for the ears of the vicious Cybanian master race. I fiddle with the demod/translucer, rewind, and start the machine again. The wail becomes the voice of the woman with the roses crying urgently: "Green man, green man. The Songdealers [?] are in the shadows, dealing death. Escape, escape, escape, esc" --- and the tape ends. Song Dealers? Stealers? The tape is blurred here. Who are these killers? I stand up and set out to find where she ---"

There is a knock on the door. Boukay closes his fieldbook.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: JenEllen
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 02:32 PM

Mandy recieved the Green Man's invitation, and she did what she always did when faced with such indecision. She called her Grandmother.
"So what do you think I should do, Mere?"
The hologramatic image of the older woman sputtered and finally spoke.
"I have heard of these song catchers. If this Green Man truly is one, then his work is none but good. But you must be wary of those that come behind, m'love. Generations ago, Disney acquired the planet Satiria, and made slaves of the resident Frebergs living there. Disney forced them into writing commercial jingles and teleporter music. Some of the Frebergs went a touch soft in the head, began to adjust to their imprisionment, and even like the work they did. This renegade band will destroy all evidence of the old songs, at whatever cost. By destroying the music of the Earth, the people lose their sense of self, and become nothing more than commercial amalgamation. The only thing left of any enjoyment, naturally, would be consuming all things trite, pap, and Disney. Do you remember the lullabye that your mother used to sing you?"
"Sure," says Mandy. She hums a little and begins
Disney stuff, you got the cutest little Disney stuff
Ain't no way I'll ever get enough, Disney stuff
My heart won't quit pumpin' until I've purchased somethin'...
Mandy pauses, as the full realization hits her. It was the same tune her grandmother used to sing to her, but the words were different.
"They will stop at nothing, child. Take care of yourself."
"I always do, Mere. But, Mere, what are the real words? Do you remember? Can you tell me?"
Her grandmother's image wavers a little bit, then it begins to sing
Baby face, I'm up in heaven
When I'm in your warm embrace
I didn't need a shove
'Cause I just fell in love
With your pretty baby face..."
Mandy said goodbye and shut off the transmitter. She went to the sink and put a cold washrag on her tear-stained eyes.

On her way out the door she grabbed her insulated mittens. She'd stop by the cantina and pick up a thermo-bottle of liquid nitrogen and drop it by Farkin's workstation. He'd been having a rough go of it lately. Then on to her appointment with the Green Man.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Amos
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 05:38 PM

The Terran stood alone by the view windows, watching a simulation of real space go by, knowing full well it was not real light, since they were in FLT drive status, but appreciating the approximation as the display of starts he would have seen at any moment had they dropped into real-space was continuously refreshed in a relistic way on the windows at the forward end of the ship's saloon.

He frowned, noticing a familiar pattern in the dots of lights representing the distant stars swooping by; he took a small laser-gauge out of his jacket and peered through it, measuring angles. He looked around -- this end of the saloon was empty. He tapped in that same musical rhythm on the shiny golden pin on his tunic, bent his head and spoke quietly into it.

"Cornucopia, Cornucopia. Enterprise bearing directly Crab Bottom. Local situation stable. Rumour of pirates in vicinity. Dogsbody out."

He wandered aft into the more populated sections of the saloon, and noticed Ol' Spaw, once feared throughout known space as the Devil Dog of the Spaceways, limping over to a table looking vaguely irritable. He haled him and offered to buy him a drink. Maybe he could cast some light on the matter of pirates...he was practically a pirate himself!

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Mbo
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 06:00 PM

Sitting in a reverie as he was wont to do, Lieutenant Mbo, remembered, for some strange reason, his days as a Pirate. In fact, he still WAS a Pirate...shouting "ARRRR!" whenever he got the chance, spreading Pirate propaganda wherever he went, and even going so far as to to decorate his PTU (Personal Transportation Unit) with secret Pirate symbols. The old battle cry range once again in his head:
Moving cross the ocean with the flag of death a'flying
The demon butcher pointing out the message on the tide
And the demon light a'sailing at his side...
Lt.Mbo suddenly had the urge to go wear something purple......AAAARRR!

--Mbo

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 06:54 PM

"Captain Trid, Sir....AHEM..." Cartoosh approached Billy carefully. The Trid had a lingerie model perched on each knee, one holding a goblet of Tralfamadorian Beet Wine to his lips, while the other fed him Marmite spread on Toasted Slug-Crackers."Yes, Cartoosh...this had better be good." The cyber-spider scuttled up sideways, as he was wont to do when intruding on the Trid's menage meals."It seems that the Enterprise is ...aware of us." The Arachnoid immediately tensed to dodge either or both lingerie models, if Billy decided to toss them at him. "Damned Googlians," he said, with remarkable restraint." Cloaking is a waste of time any more. Every Mudcat Fleetship has at least one aboard." He crunched down on another slug-cracker."Mmmmm....did they alter course?" Cartoosh re-checked the screen."No, still bearing for the Crab Nebula." Billy dropped the models off of his lap."Let me see," he said.

Cartoosh spun a knob, and the skeletal rendering of the Enterprise in flight fleshed out in high-definition three dimensionality, moving in apparent slow-motion acoss the starfield."Still at half-warp," said the Trid," certainly are taking their time."

Just then, an illuminated port opened in the side of the Enterprise, and a projectile was launched toward them. " Crap!" shouted the Trid, "they're firing at us!" Cartoosh tapped an instruction into the keyboard and a mechanical voice intoned "Evasion auto-maneuver engaged". The pirate crew braced for impact, but only a faint thud was heard."Damage Report!" yelled the Trid. The mechanical vouce replied "Foreign object of unknown origin lodged in port steering aeliron". The Trid snapped at Cartoosh "go see what it is!"

Several minutes later, the spider had returned from the exterior of the craft, dragging something heavy in a sack."Well?" said the Trid. Cartoosh's mandible wagged in a self-deprecating grin. "They seem to have achieved a direct hit on us with..." and he opened the sack "...their dead Captain!"

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Amos
Date: 22 Apr 00 - 09:07 PM

Cracking up, Spaceman Leej!!! You are soooo funny!

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Peter T.
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 12:55 PM

Boukay says:" Come in." It is the Admiral.
"Boukay, we need to talk about what we are supposed to be doing with the Pirates again."
Boukay jumps up.

"Admiral, I am concerned about Mandy. She was to have met me here an hour ago. Could you institute some sort of search for her?" The Admiral smiles and says, "Oh, I think she will be here shortly. She is sweet on one of our ice-giants. Not to worry. But just to be on the safe side...Back in a moment." He leaves, the door swooshes shut.

Boukay sits back down, frightened again. He had hoped, well, what could he hope now... He opens his fieldbook to where he left off, flips ahead a few pages, and begins to read again.

"2585:21:3
She says to me, "Try it, it'll be easy after a few seconds." I get on the seat, awkwardly, and lift my legs, and fall over. I get back on, and ride around in a diminishing circle, fall over. "What do you call this thing?" I say from the ground. She is laughing out loud, for the first time ever since we have been together. I get up, and although I think I am getting the hang of it, I deliberately shift my balance, just to fall over awkwardly, just to get her to laugh. I do. She does. "It's a bicycle," she says finally, choking out the words through her laughter. "Couldn't they have made it with a few more wheels," I call out, riding wobbly in a wider circle. She watches me, smiling, then falls serious again, rubbing her hand unconsciously as she does against the scar down her cheek.

We ride silently down the long road by the sea. No one follows us: that is one reason for going this route: it is so open. There are white islands in the distance, and high hills behind us, with iridescent sheen glinting off rocks like mica schist. We pass ruined towers and circles of what look like druid stones. We are always quiet together. She says that one reason she likes me is that I am the first man she has ever been with who is quiet, not because he is hiding anything, but because he is just quiet. I remind her than I am after all half-plant. Oh, she says, that explains it.

We certainly make a strange pair: a green man and a Cybanian escapee. After what happened on Polgar, she keeps herself to herself. But at least she has begun singing again, not Earth songs of course, but strange wild songs in her bitterhoney voice she says come from Taurusland where she was born. She will not say any more. There was only that horrifying moment later after Polgar on Holy Demershinnia when we realized that the Songdealers had wiped the minds of the remnant churchfolk, and let them live, songless, rather than kill them. She said that they had become more sophisticated, that they knew there was a problem with their previous tactics, that whoever they were they would not stop now until they had found Taurusland itself. I said, where is Taurusland? But she said no more. I think she trusts me: what she no longer trusts is the universe itself around her -- she thinks everything is now listening with evil intent. Perhaps she is right.

Tonight we sleep under a fine oaklike cluster of trees by an ancient aristocratic mansion, long since abandoned. I do not understand what these alien trees say, but they rumble deep and old, saying things just out of reach, but comforting nevertheless. She lies under one, and I lie under the next one nearby, and just before I go to sleep, she waves at me from under the shadow of her tree, smiling, like someone waving from one dark building to someone opposite, in another. I dream, again, inevitably, of that last night in Polgar, and with all my strength I wrench myself awake. I look over, and she is there, sleeping quietly. Everything is quiet, the trees hushed. I turn over, and sleep, and do not dream again.

2585: 22 - Even before we cycle into the village, even before we come over the hill, we can hear the pipes. It is this we have come for -- the secret gathering of the tribes on Margarnagarr. "

Suddenly Boukey is seized with the voice of someone, someone with a ancient voice, a woman's, like one of the trees on Margarnagarr, but also mysteriously like Mandy's, calling upon him for desperate help, directing him to the Hydroponics Section aft. He rapidly puts the book away in his jacket, and rushes out into the corridor, following the voice.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Mbo
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 01:46 PM

The Lieutenant, now on his 5th listen to ELO's "TIME" album that day, he began to reminisce about the past.....a year or so ago, the ship he was serving on as an ensign in the deflector dish relay room--The Whale they got themselves into a confrontation with a Watashi invasion force. The Whale was pulling ambassador duty for the Kownti people, when the Watashi decided that their long-standing disagreement over who owned the rights to the dark matter fields around their sun, the star Rozimican. The captain of The Whale tried to resolve it, but the Watashi fleet were too much for them. They had to get out fast to avoid breaking the Prime Directive. Unfortunetly, the only way the Watashi saw to end the disagreement was to destroy their sun with massed mult-phasic cannons, so no one could own the dark matter resources. Yes, Lt.Mbo remembered sadly, that was the day when they shot the star of the Kownti down....

--Lt.Mbo

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Amos
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 01:58 PM

Grooan, Mbo -- aren't you a little young to be writing shaggy dog stories?

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Amos
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 02:32 PM

Among the dark hurtling masses of the Crab Bottom asteroid belt there is little light. The stone giants, formed from unknown explosions and endless wanderings, are smooth, pocked from unknown collisions, worn by the infinite winds of space. Now, they form a wide shield protecting the quiet and remote corners of the region from invasion, trade, discovery, and the oppression of the commercial inter-sytem megacorporations, one Market Under Disney, hollow be their name, as the old song has it.

Among the endless lumpy shadows of this fast moving minefield, one small light suddenly becomes apparent. It is a smoother form, not pocked and grained with millenia of wear but polished, with grains of a fine tight burlwood, following its gentle swallow-like contours. It is the scout vessel of the small Ternian scout force, a lovely small four-man thing, crafted entirely from local hardwoods and protected by a thin transparent shiellding made from local minerals, that is tough enough to stand any impact. Unlike the vessels of the large commercial fleets, its drive is not a DIsney-Ford FLT installation with its mountainous metallic chambers and farings. The Tern people approached the same technological problems from a different direction, more fitting a planet short on metals, long on time, and uncontaminated by the thought processes of the large corporations. It was riven instead by a series of small Ternian crystals installed in a ring of dark mineral matrix around the interior of the stern, which generated carefully tuned frquencies when activated from the control deck forward. The effect of these oscillations was relative spatial translation rather than the forceful linear motion of the ancient Terran rocket system. The technology alone, had it been somehow brought to the markets of known space, would have caused a revolution if it had not been crushed instantly by the alert lords of Ford-Disney.

Alone in the vessel, the agent known as Cornucopia frowned with concern over the message he had just heard. He tapped a series of small polished wood buttons on the control arms of his comfortable leather recliner and activated a communicator which used a similar technique to the drive, by inducing vibrations in a perfectly matched crystal in the Ternian Lomaxion Centre. It was another piece of local engineering genius that discovered the principle -- match the crystals perfectly, to the nanometer, and they will resonate together no matter how far their spatial distance apart.

He had argued for a direct communication link to the Elder's Council, but had been overruled on the grounds of tighter security. He noticed it was time for renewal, and he moved a few delicately carved control arms to the appropriate slots. On the outside of the vessel, a pod drew back, unfolding a shimmering fabric which extended for hundreds of square yards on a complex frame of geodesic lines, growing larger and larger as the tightly folded arms swang out. Praise Bucky, he thought, all systems are staying green and no sign of hostile approaches in any dimension. May it stay that way!

The agent known as Cornucopia settled in his seat while the huge fabric-laden frame outside the vessel gathered ionic dipolar particles in its peculiar mesh. He had time, as all Ternians did, lots of time...

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: wysiwyg
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 05:11 PM

Spinning on one toe atop a world not on any starmap, arms outflung with and in all of the love in the universe, a woman slows in perfect balance, coming to rest...

Still on one toe, she gathers her love into one unerringly pointed finger, she now the world's finial flag-- see where she points you cannot, for she is seen only by God.

Yet point she does, and see He does...

And far below, a whisper reaches where she points--

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: wysiwyg
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 05:16 PM

The signal reaches where it must reach, and is bounced far away to another point--

Attenuated yet clear enough to be received--

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: MMario
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 05:24 PM

Oh shannon doherty, I lost my daughter!
Away, Disney, Away!
Oh Shannon doherty, I lost my daughter
Away, disney Away!
Cross is Micheal Eisner

On every screen of every vid-terminal on the entire MT Enterprise the following message begins to scroll "The King will come tomorrow. Prepare for the King"

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Caitrin
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 06:23 PM

Log, stardate 3.14159-
I fear I was wrong about the Green Man. I've been watching him for several days now. I had suspected him of being the Songstealer at first, but it seems I may have been wrong. Mandy's been seen with him several times, and she would never have dealings with one of Them. It seems more likely that he's just interested in old songs. He probably doesn't know the worth of what he does by bringing them to mind again. But I've sensed Their presence! If Boukay is no Songstealer...who is?

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Amos
Date: 23 Apr 00 - 11:12 PM


 

Part 2 ends here.  Part 3 begins over here.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern Enterprise Part 2
From: Peter T.
Date: 24 Apr 00 - 09:43 AM

[before leaving this part I want to be on record for laughing myself sick over "shannon doherty"!yours, Peter T.]