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Dirty Olde Gnome
HEHE
The Dirty Olde Gnome figured a way to tap into the Archives!
Beware!
BEWARE!
Dirty.
The Dirty Olde Gnome figured a way to tap into the Archives!
Beware!
BEWARE!
Dirty.
As best as I can remember, I was once known as Merry Mortimer McKay, hailing from either Scotland or Ireland; I spent time in both places, but the memory is so long and so far away, I canna be sure anymore.
I carry 50 pounds on my diminutive frame, and 20 more in a round proud paunch about my midrift...fine fighting weight for a gnome. I've adopted the Modern Style of asymetric beards, though at times I don a hologenerater to revisit the fine overgrowth I used to sport...gone is the tall hat, knocked it into too many buttons in free fall; gone also is the briar-pipe; no one saw fit to transport thorn bushes from Old Terra.
If only we knew then what we would miss now ...but I believe the Folk are the only ones who still remember.
Enough about the long agos, regret is wasted on the Olde.
I carry 50 pounds on my diminutive frame, and 20 more in a round proud paunch about my midrift...fine fighting weight for a gnome. I've adopted the Modern Style of asymetric beards, though at times I don a hologenerater to revisit the fine overgrowth I used to sport...gone is the tall hat, knocked it into too many buttons in free fall; gone also is the briar-pipe; no one saw fit to transport thorn bushes from Old Terra.
If only we knew then what we would miss now ...but I believe the Folk are the only ones who still remember.
Enough about the long agos, regret is wasted on the Olde.
Which brings me to the current situation.
For the past two years I've mined all over this Known Space, as well as plied the spacelanes of cargo. I have fought and killed innumerable HiveQueens (they was after me ores!) and I negotiated a ID card with UIT authorities under the Hardship Clauses...but the topic I wish to address is the unethical enslavement of extremely short peoples by Tunguska Mining...
Myself has spent over a century in the tiny rooms they call their processing plant, packing oredusts in glowing chests, and none of it was mine to keep. Oh sure, they have their automated lines they show the inspectors, but when the loads are heavy and mixed, nothing like beanpicking to sort it all out!
You tall folk have various organizations devoted to feeding the space cows with widgets that you claim to liberate. How about devoting some time to liberating the Olde Ones from their enslavement in the bellies of the stations?
All I ask is that you approach their plight with the thought in mind that maybe these folk are the last best link to Sol.
For the past two years I've mined all over this Known Space, as well as plied the spacelanes of cargo. I have fought and killed innumerable HiveQueens (they was after me ores!) and I negotiated a ID card with UIT authorities under the Hardship Clauses...but the topic I wish to address is the unethical enslavement of extremely short peoples by Tunguska Mining...
Myself has spent over a century in the tiny rooms they call their processing plant, packing oredusts in glowing chests, and none of it was mine to keep. Oh sure, they have their automated lines they show the inspectors, but when the loads are heavy and mixed, nothing like beanpicking to sort it all out!
You tall folk have various organizations devoted to feeding the space cows with widgets that you claim to liberate. How about devoting some time to liberating the Olde Ones from their enslavement in the bellies of the stations?
All I ask is that you approach their plight with the thought in mind that maybe these folk are the last best link to Sol.
To Grey Space Corporations and Itani border military HQ:
One of our patients escaped from the psy section of the Tunguska Hospital last night. Although he is probably no longer dangerous after several years of intensive treatment, we appreciate that it is our duty to bring the information to your attention and prevent any possible accident.
The patient's full profile has been uploaded to your security services; however, it is not necessary to recognize the individual.
We apologise for any inconvenience. We will do whatever is necessary to bring back this patient at the Tunguska Hospital and prolonge his stay.
Dr Sun
CEO
One of our patients escaped from the psy section of the Tunguska Hospital last night. Although he is probably no longer dangerous after several years of intensive treatment, we appreciate that it is our duty to bring the information to your attention and prevent any possible accident.
The patient's full profile has been uploaded to your security services; however, it is not necessary to recognize the individual.
We apologise for any inconvenience. We will do whatever is necessary to bring back this patient at the Tunguska Hospital and prolonge his stay.
Dr Sun
CEO
I will not dignify that last post with anything but a flat denial.
Dirty Morty,
perhaps you would be interested in the services of M'at's freedom co. we are curently running a special on unlawfull detainment.
-M'at
disclaimer: M'at's fredom co is not afiliated with [CDC]
perhaps you would be interested in the services of M'at's freedom co. we are curently running a special on unlawfull detainment.
-M'at
disclaimer: M'at's fredom co is not afiliated with [CDC]
A BACKWATER OF GREY:
“So what’s to keep me from turning you in to Mar?” I asked him.
After a long day pulling Xith in Pelatus I often stop at the pub for a pipe and a conversation. I noticed him sittiing in a booth with the mood lighting off. Not as subtle as you may think, he would have stuck out less dancing on the bar with a tutu on.
“I came here looking for you. Mr. Morty, you are friends with my daughter are you not?”
I nodded, we sometime ply the back ends of roids looking for apinecine. The buddy system isn’t just for swimming these days.
“I have a letter for you to deliver...it details our flightplan, our manifest, everything, as insurance in case something goes wrong. You do believe in insurance...as old as you pretend to be, you have learnt the value of ‘plan B’ as it were? Good.”
The thought of collecting a million mark reward dancing at the back of my mind, I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.
“Mar is worried-mad at me, I know...and for delivering this letter per my instruction, there is an escrow account at Dau earmarked for you...if Mar decides to reward you as well, you will be three times as wealthy...catch my drift? Now, She’ll get over this, she always has...Mar is mad all over again because she thinks I am leaving her, when actually she has pulled away herself...If she hadn’t, she would be with us as well.”
I nod. And feel my heartstrings pull, for I am betraying a friend for profit. I know I willn’t turn him in today. He continues on for 15 minutes, detailing my instructions, and I nod and leave that foul place, for betrayal stains the aura of the place it happens in.
I can’t wait the ten days, after three agonizing days mining at the edge of a ice field, I pull out me com, dial a private channel, press the button and say....
“Mar, come in, we need to talk.”
“So what’s to keep me from turning you in to Mar?” I asked him.
After a long day pulling Xith in Pelatus I often stop at the pub for a pipe and a conversation. I noticed him sittiing in a booth with the mood lighting off. Not as subtle as you may think, he would have stuck out less dancing on the bar with a tutu on.
“I came here looking for you. Mr. Morty, you are friends with my daughter are you not?”
I nodded, we sometime ply the back ends of roids looking for apinecine. The buddy system isn’t just for swimming these days.
“I have a letter for you to deliver...it details our flightplan, our manifest, everything, as insurance in case something goes wrong. You do believe in insurance...as old as you pretend to be, you have learnt the value of ‘plan B’ as it were? Good.”
The thought of collecting a million mark reward dancing at the back of my mind, I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.
“Mar is worried-mad at me, I know...and for delivering this letter per my instruction, there is an escrow account at Dau earmarked for you...if Mar decides to reward you as well, you will be three times as wealthy...catch my drift? Now, She’ll get over this, she always has...Mar is mad all over again because she thinks I am leaving her, when actually she has pulled away herself...If she hadn’t, she would be with us as well.”
I nod. And feel my heartstrings pull, for I am betraying a friend for profit. I know I willn’t turn him in today. He continues on for 15 minutes, detailing my instructions, and I nod and leave that foul place, for betrayal stains the aura of the place it happens in.
I can’t wait the ten days, after three agonizing days mining at the edge of a ice field, I pull out me com, dial a private channel, press the button and say....
“Mar, come in, we need to talk.”
A MONTH LATER:
I had worked my way into Serco space and out into Helios, when I recieved a faint transmission on Mar’s private link. An automated mayday stating location. I tried to query her ship, but it was deadheading toward the sun. I proceeded to intercept, and lasso her ship. Upon boarding, I found an autodoc almost burned out and smashed from within. Mar Ani’s implants were spasming, smashing herself against the walls of the doc, then when relaxed, or damaged into quiet, the doc would heal her up and attempt to reprogram the augmentations, which set off her private hell again. I left that ship, and towed her to the remaining Mansfield Co-op facility, where techs were able to stop the cycle of abuse, and remove all the implants and augmentation from Mar. The surgeons told me that she may recover, but can put no time to it. The poor lassie.
I had worked my way into Serco space and out into Helios, when I recieved a faint transmission on Mar’s private link. An automated mayday stating location. I tried to query her ship, but it was deadheading toward the sun. I proceeded to intercept, and lasso her ship. Upon boarding, I found an autodoc almost burned out and smashed from within. Mar Ani’s implants were spasming, smashing herself against the walls of the doc, then when relaxed, or damaged into quiet, the doc would heal her up and attempt to reprogram the augmentations, which set off her private hell again. I left that ship, and towed her to the remaining Mansfield Co-op facility, where techs were able to stop the cycle of abuse, and remove all the implants and augmentation from Mar. The surgeons told me that she may recover, but can put no time to it. The poor lassie.
Public Note:
The last few posts are posted publicly because a few people have wondered what has happened to MarAni, a friend of mine. This is what I know.
MarAni's shiplogs are currently being unscrambled to account for the missing time, as well as being scoured for clues to what caused her augmentations to malfunction. MarAni is in a secure facility dedicated to preserving her life, in critical-intensive care.
More as more becomes clear.
--Dirty Morty
The last few posts are posted publicly because a few people have wondered what has happened to MarAni, a friend of mine. This is what I know.
MarAni's shiplogs are currently being unscrambled to account for the missing time, as well as being scoured for clues to what caused her augmentations to malfunction. MarAni is in a secure facility dedicated to preserving her life, in critical-intensive care.
More as more becomes clear.
--Dirty Morty