Subj: [ffml] [HD] (sideplot) Just Your Standard Quest, Sir Date: 01-02-10 11:06:27 EST From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com (This will be the last I'll write on Aelis-Re for a little bit.) * * * * * An hour or two after Nighthawk's departure, Aelis-Re was sitting in a tavern in Tzen, trying vainly to get drunk. It wasn't working, though the barkeep was happy to have him continue trying. He paid in gemstones. That was how they were always paid, he and Nighthawk, for their various missions back on Earth...and wherever they'd gone. Money was different everywhere, but little cut gemstones were valuable no matter where you went. Often they were lighter, too. He had a rather large bag full of them, locked up in the Bear's various compartments. Thinking about all the work that had gone into earning them was depressing. Nighthawk wasn't here. There was a whole world she could be in, now. She didn't even need to find him to go home. He frowned, and ordered another scotch. His bike, and his gemstones, had convinced the locals he was some family's spoiled son. They were happy to please a man with that kind of money, it seemed. But they knew nothing of a lone green-winged avariel. If he couldn't find her, he would never find Nighthawk. He knew better than to ask if they'd seen her. She'd learned to disguise herself rather well, and had absolutely no problem with causing people to forget her by any means at her disposal. He looked down. His scotch glass was empty. He was about to order another refill when a big meaty hand clamped onto his shoulder. He sighed, inside. Always the same, these assholes couldn't be original if they were handed a brand-new script and told to read it. Sure enough, the alchohol-laden breath behind him said, "Buy a man a drink, stranger?" "No," said Aelis-Re, and returned his attention to the barkeep. The grip on his shoulder tightened. "Your mommy ain't here to bail you out, beanpole," the man said. "How's about you share the wealth?" It was hard for the patrons to say what happened in the next two seconds. Aelis-Re was sitting at the bar, and then he was behind the man who had threatened him, pushing the guy's arm as far up his back as it would go. The drunk's breath was gasping in pain. Casually, Aelis-Re moved just that bit necessary to break the arm, and then let the guy go. "No," he repeated. He looked back over at the barkeep, dropped a small semiprecious stone to pay for his last drink, and left, his opponent still howling on the floor. No one had gone to aid him. Outside, the cool evening air cleared what little fog the scotch had been able to induce. He wondered why people always thought thin men would get drunk faster, when often the same high-gear metabolism that kept them thin would also go right through your average drink. You didn't need bulging muscles to be strong, either. He wouldn't win the weightlifter's championships, but the goal was not the *most* strength, but *enough* strength to do what you needed to do. And of that, he had enough. He locked his small gem-pouch back into the Bear's compartments, and his fingers brushed briefly over the laptop. Almost, he smiled. Larathia had kept an extensive archive of the worlds they'd been to. There might be something here that would help. He raised his head, hearing footsteps. The barkeep had been kind, waiting before calling for the constables. But they were on their way now, and he wouldn't find anyone if he got locked up. Quickly, he started the Bear and got out of town. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept on the ground. Next time, he wouldn't bother heading for a tavern. The constables here would be able to track him, but not fast enough. Not before he got out of jurisdiction. Once safely out of range, he opened the compartment that held the laptop and pulled it out. Rummaging around, he also found some discs. He took a look at their labels and almost laughed. He wondered how his partner had found these, but popped them in and took a look. Half an hour later, the laptop was back in the compartment and the Bear was heading at top speed for the shore. Forget the avariel girl, there was something he needed to do. Subj: [ffml] [HD] (sideplot) Jigsaw Puzzle Date: 01-02-12 11:46:23 EST From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com In a way, Aelis-Re was grateful that the gate had deposited him on such a large continent. It meant that there were more places he could go without having to take a boat. He didn't even want to think about renting an airship; those things always looked to be one cigarette puff away from the Hindenburg. He flipped up the screen on the laptop, and checked over the schematics. Adamantine, he thought. Anywhere else, you'd get metal out of the ground. Here, you pry it off the inside of a turtle's shell. What a lovely, fucked-up world. It didn't improve his temper to know he'd have to kill the turtles to get the adamantine. He didn't like killing; too often it was unnecessary. His thoughts veered away from that tangent before they could land on the argument with Nighthawk again. Turtles. He skimmed through the archives until he located the entry on the turtle species in question. My, they're *big* little fuckers, aren't they....probably best to shoot them, the shell looks tough enough to deflect swordstrokes. Two hours later, he had an oversufficiency of adamantine, and enough turtle meat to live on for a month. While he set strips of it cooking and drying, he pulled out the laptop again and studied the schematics. Most of the materials required would probably prove unnecessary, he thought. The guys that used these things were the kick-down-the-door-and-rescue-the-girl hero types, big on noise and flash. In other words, in Aelis-Re's mind, idiots. He could admire their sense of style - he'd always loved hero movies - but that just wasn't a practical way to go about things. Hm. Pulse ammo, adamantine, and dragon fangs. Adamantine he could understand; it would make a good strong blade. The ammo seemed to be partially melted into the adamantine to make it glow, and partly infused into the gun to provide added bursts of energy. Dragon fangs made for a good strong hilt. Aelis-Re leaned back and watched the evening stars come out over the ocean, thinking. Did he want the blade to glow? Probably not, on consideration. The design might have worked for the original owner, but not for him. He'd need something that wouldn't give away his location every time he drew it. He glanced over the schematics for the other design, which did not glow. Yes, the blade was more suited to his style, but the trigger was too hair-fine -- he'd miss a lot of shots through lack of proper timing. He *did* want the thing to have as much kick as possible, be as sharp as possible. And as accurate as possible... His fingers flicked lightning-fast over the keys, testing possibilites combining the designs. He liked the idea of being able to amplify a sword-stroke with a controlled burst of energy - but what about long range shots? Could the blade be modified to carry a continuous burst out past the blade's ege? It took a lot of searching, but he located the component that would do what was required; not just the pulse ammo, but the source of pulse ammo. Energy crystals, properly cut and placed, would have the desired effect. He checked his figures. He'd need a *lot* of crystals; one use and the things would crumble, necessitating a lot of reloading. He almost thumped the laptop in frustration; there had to be an alternative....yes. The Force Armlet would supply the needed energy source, and last a good deal longer. A few of them could take the place of a few dozen energy crystals. After running the theoretical finished design through computerized tests, he was satisfied. The design would suit him, it would work, and with any luck it'd keep him alive on this godforsaken mudball long enough for Nighthawk to complete her mission and get them home again. It had the added bonus of being usable on more than one world - though it wouldn't do him much good if he ran out of ammunition. Staring at the image on his screen, he realized he could almost hear what Nighthawk would tell him; he'd created a new thing, now he had to name it. He almost laughed. He still had to get more of the materials - and most of them would be harder than his poor turtles, even though he wouldn't have to kill *all* the creatures in question - and he was worrying over something stupid like what to *call* it. But he knew if he ran into Nighthawk again and he hadn't named it, he wouldn't get any peace. It gave him a little twinge to think of it. She liked things to have names. Calling it 'my gunblade' would not satisfy her. If he was going to name it, he wanted it to be *his* choice. If he waited, Nighthawk would influence his decision. She always did. It was vaguely annoying to him, that he could feel henpecked while sitting alone on a beach miles from anyone. He looked at the screen. Hyperion, and Lion Heart, he noted. One sounded big and grand, the other loud and courageous. He frowned. Neither suited him. He wasn't in this to be big, loud, grand or courageous. He just wanted to get home, preferably without having to die first. Being grand and courageous, if it happened at all, would probably only happen by accident. Give it a name from home, then. He almost smiled; it was a suitable name, and it was guaranteed to draw an exasperated sigh from Nighthawk when she heard it. Teasing her was always a pleasure. Playing to an invisible audience in his mischievous mood, he slowly typed in: Zephyr and saved the altered schematic. One job down. He powered down the laptop and hooked it to the solar chargers. Wouldn't do any good right now, but a few hours at dawn would be all that was needed. He settled down to the mindless task of preparing a few hundred pounds of turtle meat for storage. He had to visit a pretty barren place next, by boat yet, and didn't want to pay for food if he didn't have to. Larathia http://www.mcs.net/~larathia ICQ: 22170253 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Everything you need to know is in there somewhere, you just maybe haven't been to the right group yet. The golden rules are: crossposting is better than multiple posting, killfiles are better than flaming and long signatures are conceited. -- Simon Travaglia, "Most of what I needed to know about life I learnt from Usenet News" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------