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Stirring the Soup
Chapter 1 – The soup gets stirred.
The green line waved and peaked a little more than usual. A yellow light flickered and was ignored as usual. It would only be another strong ion storm interfering with the comms surveillance grid again.
Nothing would be happening. Nothing had been happening for months.
The war between the Itani and the Serco was in a stalemate and the odd confrontation was a half-hearted attempt to break the monotony rather than a decisive action to actually achieve anything. The convoys would get popped and that was it. The hardened space-jock fighter aces would be lazing around grey space bars as usual occasionally jumping into Sedina to buff their egos and grease their weapons. Now there was a metaphor.
The green line and the yellow dot had quite frankly had enough. They weren’t going to be ignored this time. The green line danced like a ballerina in the closing act and the yellow light flickered furiously like an old-time disco.
The Serco deep-space surveillance operative put down his copy of “Zero-G Gals” and leaned over the console to punch the reset button. But the yellow light - in a last desperate effort to avoid being ignored - flickered until it was almost permanently on and then turned red. Ah.. the coup was accomplished !!!
The operative became animated, spinning dials, twisting knobs, flicking switches and quickly donning the headphones. Maybe there was something! The soup of war was being stirred.
There, that was the frequency. Just under the normal Itani band and re-modulated to pulse like the pounding of a blacksmith’s hammer. Another slow, careful turn of a dial and the signal crackled into a voice….
“.. yeah and it’s my turn to be first with the sheep tonight….”
“.. are we going for a curry or what?”
“.. yeah but not too heavy on the beer tonight you got a day parked up licking xithricite tomorrow.”
The signal was coming from Divinia. There was never much traffic there. Most Itani pilots hung around Deneb patrolling the border or flying between Edras and Odia patrolling Pelatus and Bractus.
“..oops.. bounced the station.. forgot to enable flight assist..”
“..you think you’ve got problems, I entered warp there flying backwards and still can’t turn this thing around.”
The Serco operative (we’ll call him Bill) didn’t recognise any of the voices. He ran the last loop through the pilot recognition program. “Unkown pilot” came back the computer’s almost-human voice.
“Noobs” he thought to himself.
Bill tapped a few keys and adjusted another dial. He located something he didn’t expect to find… a guild ident! Noobs with guild idents? He fed it through to the space guild database and up it popped… “[DND] – Diuturnal Nomad Dwarfers”. Who the hell were they?
Maybe they were a bunch of Itani rich-kid sons of farmers bored living the life of luxury and up in space for a little excitement. Every few weeks a couple would turn up, fly about a bit killing bots, mining or trading.. then they’d be introduced to the hot end of a Neutron Blaster, have a quick trip back in a pod to a station and catch the next transport back to the easy life.
But as Bill continued to monitor the comms and the pilot log traffic he came to a conclusion..
This bunch were different.
There were 21 of them for a start. They seemed organised – albeit in a chaotic, socks in a washing machine kind of way.
Then there was their flying. Whilst clearly not polished flight vets, they weren’t altogether wet behind the years when it came to handling the ships. The way they flung their GovBuses around…. They were already gaining licences at a pace not normally seen except from those vets who registered alternate pilot names to get a change of scenery.
There was enough suspicion in Bill’s mind to fire off an urgent report to Serco high-command with the attached comms logs, guild info, pilot logs and licence data.
What Bill didn’t know, was that on the other side of the Galaxy in Itani high-command was receiving a similar and no-less uncertain report…..
This lot would be one to watch.
(to be continued)
The green line waved and peaked a little more than usual. A yellow light flickered and was ignored as usual. It would only be another strong ion storm interfering with the comms surveillance grid again.
Nothing would be happening. Nothing had been happening for months.
The war between the Itani and the Serco was in a stalemate and the odd confrontation was a half-hearted attempt to break the monotony rather than a decisive action to actually achieve anything. The convoys would get popped and that was it. The hardened space-jock fighter aces would be lazing around grey space bars as usual occasionally jumping into Sedina to buff their egos and grease their weapons. Now there was a metaphor.
The green line and the yellow dot had quite frankly had enough. They weren’t going to be ignored this time. The green line danced like a ballerina in the closing act and the yellow light flickered furiously like an old-time disco.
The Serco deep-space surveillance operative put down his copy of “Zero-G Gals” and leaned over the console to punch the reset button. But the yellow light - in a last desperate effort to avoid being ignored - flickered until it was almost permanently on and then turned red. Ah.. the coup was accomplished !!!
The operative became animated, spinning dials, twisting knobs, flicking switches and quickly donning the headphones. Maybe there was something! The soup of war was being stirred.
There, that was the frequency. Just under the normal Itani band and re-modulated to pulse like the pounding of a blacksmith’s hammer. Another slow, careful turn of a dial and the signal crackled into a voice….
“.. yeah and it’s my turn to be first with the sheep tonight….”
“.. are we going for a curry or what?”
“.. yeah but not too heavy on the beer tonight you got a day parked up licking xithricite tomorrow.”
The signal was coming from Divinia. There was never much traffic there. Most Itani pilots hung around Deneb patrolling the border or flying between Edras and Odia patrolling Pelatus and Bractus.
“..oops.. bounced the station.. forgot to enable flight assist..”
“..you think you’ve got problems, I entered warp there flying backwards and still can’t turn this thing around.”
The Serco operative (we’ll call him Bill) didn’t recognise any of the voices. He ran the last loop through the pilot recognition program. “Unkown pilot” came back the computer’s almost-human voice.
“Noobs” he thought to himself.
Bill tapped a few keys and adjusted another dial. He located something he didn’t expect to find… a guild ident! Noobs with guild idents? He fed it through to the space guild database and up it popped… “[DND] – Diuturnal Nomad Dwarfers”. Who the hell were they?
Maybe they were a bunch of Itani rich-kid sons of farmers bored living the life of luxury and up in space for a little excitement. Every few weeks a couple would turn up, fly about a bit killing bots, mining or trading.. then they’d be introduced to the hot end of a Neutron Blaster, have a quick trip back in a pod to a station and catch the next transport back to the easy life.
But as Bill continued to monitor the comms and the pilot log traffic he came to a conclusion..
This bunch were different.
There were 21 of them for a start. They seemed organised – albeit in a chaotic, socks in a washing machine kind of way.
Then there was their flying. Whilst clearly not polished flight vets, they weren’t altogether wet behind the years when it came to handling the ships. The way they flung their GovBuses around…. They were already gaining licences at a pace not normally seen except from those vets who registered alternate pilot names to get a change of scenery.
There was enough suspicion in Bill’s mind to fire off an urgent report to Serco high-command with the attached comms logs, guild info, pilot logs and licence data.
What Bill didn’t know, was that on the other side of the Galaxy in Itani high-command was receiving a similar and no-less uncertain report…..
This lot would be one to watch.
(to be continued)
the'r taking over! hide your women!
Nahhh ! the women are safe
HIDE YOUR SHEEP !!!
HIDE YOUR SHEEP !!!
LeberMac sat back in the HQ of [Itan], analyzing the logs over a wee nip of tequila. Of course, everyone knew that a wee nip for LeberMac could easily end up being an entire bottle, so he had [Itan]'s Deep Blue Universal Automatic Computer double-check all of his findings regarding this curious communications tidbit.
Oh, they hadn't been talking about sleep, but SHEEP. Hrm. That made no sense, there hadn't been sheep in itani space for ages, ever since the last great Ovis Plague of 4430. The poor sheep were turned inside-out by a crafty little prion that instructed the musculature of the sheep that they were outside-in. Naturally, the muscles tried to get right-side out all by themselves, with painful and messy consequences for the sheep, not to mention the herder's budget.
The sheep mutilations were originally blamed on UFO's, then Serco spies, then terrorists, then Danish publishing magnates, until the root cause was discovered by scientists in 4432. Of course by that time, the great Ovis Plague had claimed all the sheep in Itani space, with few exceptions.
The re-introduction of sheep into Itani space by these new folk was a welcome event, since LeberMac knew that Tequila Lime Mutton was one of his favorite recipies, and even his sworn enemy Dr. Lecter loved a good raw sheep shank.
These newcomers should be watched. Even if only for the chance to barter for one of these prized sheep.
LeberMac mentally disconnected from Deep Blue and stumbled off to find a decent ventilation duct to pass out in. The ductwork here in Divinia was not as nice as the padded versions in Corvus Hold, but it would do.
Oh, they hadn't been talking about sleep, but SHEEP. Hrm. That made no sense, there hadn't been sheep in itani space for ages, ever since the last great Ovis Plague of 4430. The poor sheep were turned inside-out by a crafty little prion that instructed the musculature of the sheep that they were outside-in. Naturally, the muscles tried to get right-side out all by themselves, with painful and messy consequences for the sheep, not to mention the herder's budget.
The sheep mutilations were originally blamed on UFO's, then Serco spies, then terrorists, then Danish publishing magnates, until the root cause was discovered by scientists in 4432. Of course by that time, the great Ovis Plague had claimed all the sheep in Itani space, with few exceptions.
The re-introduction of sheep into Itani space by these new folk was a welcome event, since LeberMac knew that Tequila Lime Mutton was one of his favorite recipies, and even his sworn enemy Dr. Lecter loved a good raw sheep shank.
These newcomers should be watched. Even if only for the chance to barter for one of these prized sheep.
LeberMac mentally disconnected from Deep Blue and stumbled off to find a decent ventilation duct to pass out in. The ductwork here in Divinia was not as nice as the padded versions in Corvus Hold, but it would do.
I don't think you want these used sheep... especially how they've been used...
What is it with europeans and sheep, anyway?