[HG-PBEM] Weekly Summary 8

  • From: "Dennis D. Kirkpatrick" <dkirkpat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: apaworks@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 20 Apr 2003 21:26:56 -0600

The Shoals of Bankruptcy: Part 8
April 12th - 19th

-----
Atop the Core's Fortress Wall

Another night had passed, and the pilots were now congregated atop 
the Core's massive Fortress Wall, where the Bulwark 1000's track ran. 
The view of Helios rising from atop the Core's bulwark was 
breathtaking. The warmth of the sun soon began to replace the cold 
night air that blew in from the Badlands. Looking down nearly a fifty 
meters to the highest rooftop, one could watch the morning shuffle of 
traffic and pedestrians milling around inside the Core.

Jory, Juliette and Keavy were all enjoying the view when Hanna called 
to them from behind. "We've got cawfee here, if you want it."

Juliette pulled the hood back from her head and adjusted the dark 
goggles on her face. "I'll take one," she answered. Moving over and 
accepting one from Hanna, she sipped it and smiled. "It's good," she 
complimented the woman. Turning back towards the other women, she 
asked, "Keavy, you've been a sport pilot for some time now, non? 
You'll have to show me some tricks; I'm new to this game."

"I've been around the dueling block a bit." Keavy replied as she 
walked towards Hanna. "I've pretty much grown up around Gears. My 
Dad used to say that I could pilot a gear before I could walk." The 
young woman laughed lightly as she took a steaming mug. "Sure I 
could show you some of the ropes. Are you really new to sport Gears? 
It's not that different from military dueling except that it tends to be 
safer and friendlier. I heard that you were in the military before coming 
here? Were you a duelist?"

"No," Juliette answered honestly, "though it's true I was in the military 
-- the Republican Army, where I led a cadre of gears. I'm curious to see 
how different sport dueling is going to be."

Shamus came out for a look, glancing over the city with a sour look on 
his face. "I hate this town," he mumbled to himself.

"Does anyone like it?" Juliette asked rhetorically, surveying the city of 
trash while raising an eyebrow behind her dark goggles.

Shamus continued, "Hanna, when are we going to start these tests 
you were talking about? I'm sick of cooling my heels. We won't stand 
a chance in the competition if we stand around lolly-gagging, sucking 
in polluted air and drinking cawfee, will we?"

"The day is still young," Hanna returned. She point her thumb over 
her shoulder at the team's Gears and the control tower rising above the 
track.
"We'll be the first to get a walk through on the track once they radio 
the green light."

Billy, who had been standing a little ways off, moved toward group 
and finally spoke up. "This is really incredible. Have any of you ever 
raced the Bulwark 1000 before?"

Juliette blew on her cawfee to cool it, then shook her head to indicate 
that she hadn't raced it before.

"I raced it last year. It's a real blast." Keavy said, with a large grin, 
before taking sip of her cawfee. "The obstacles are a little tricky but 
you can really put some distance between yourself and the others if 
you blitz through them. Have to be pretty light on the controls to 
avoid slamming into anything. I saw this one guy try and slalom the 
this section of staggered walls, but he wasn't as good as he thought. 
His gear was almost totaled by the impact. The slalom portion is my 
fav. It's almost like dancing. What do you think Mr. Rodriguez?"

Shamus shrugged, staring out at the track. "I've never raced Khayr ad-
Din, and none of my managers would've even bothered to return the 
race organizers' calls. I was in a different...class...of racing, and kid 
stuff like this was just beneath me."

Realizing how he sounded, Shamus turned towards Keavy. "No 
offense, hon;
I know you're just starting out."

"I'm not...exactly starting out..." Keavy muttered again. It was not a 
surprising comment. People assumed that because of her young age 
that she did not have a lot of experience with Gear Dueling and racing. 
Her new teammates just did not know her any better than to judge 
based on outward appearances. That would change.

I was racing during the War of the Alliance, kid. Compared to me, 
you're an infant in diapers!" Shamus grinned wryly. He snorted 
bitterly. "And anyway, here //I// am, so I guess I'm not such hot stuff 
after all."

"Well, you now get a chance to prove you wrong," Hanna reassured 
Shamus, smiling. "We all do."

"Well, I've raced the Bulwark before," Jory spoke up. Looking at 
Shamus she continued. "I don't know what you mean by //class// of 
racing, but this race is pretty brutal. There is rarely any Gear in the 
race that doesn't get damaged one way or another."

Juliette glanced at the scars on Shamus' head as she thought about 
the upcoming race. This was obviously a dangerous profession she 
was embarking on. "What happened?" she asked plainly, cocking her 
head as she examined the man's scalp.

Billy, who had followed Lemanz's gaze, echoed her same query. "Yeah, 
I was curious about the same thing. What happened?"

"I guess that makes three of us." Keavy added and then took a sip of 
her cawfee.

Shamus looked at Keavy strangely. "I thought you'd have known all 
about that, as a fan."

Keavy brushed a loose hair out of her face. "Actually I bought the 
issue of Racing Gear that had the story of your accident in it. The 
pictures were spectacular, in a bad way. I just wanted to hear you tell 
it. I mean there were rumors that you were trying some insurance 
scam. I didn't believe it of course." She paused realizing that she was 
on the verge of babbling again. "Sorry. Go on."

"I fell down," he said simply. He took a deep breath before launching 
into his explanation. "Only I was going over 75 kph at the time, 
heading into a hairpin turn. And then I burst into flames. It took ten 
minutes for the crash crew to saw me out of the wreckage of my 
Paxton Pitbull. My head had been cracked open pretty good, which is 
why I'm so handsome now, and my lower body had been completely 
crushed. My legs were damaged beyond repair; the pegs you see me 
standing on now are regrown replacements."

He took another breath. "My spine was severed in three places. The 
money ran out pretty quick, and since I couldn't afford a real one, I 
had to have a cyberspine put in." He jerked a thumb at his lower back, 
indicating the strange angular bulges under his shirt. "It ain't pretty to 
look at, but on the up side I now have really great posture."

He ended with a half shrug. "My recovery kept me out of the game for 
awhile."

"And after all that, you're back in the saddle." Keavy chirped in. 
"Putting the injuries of the past behind you as you blaze a new 
legend."

Lemanz found her eyes moving over the old pilot's legs and back, 
noting the signs of his horrific injuries. After suffering such a terrible 
accident that took him literally years to recover from, here he was, 
back for more. Perhaps Shamus wasn't as wise as the woman had 
thought.

Shamus gave Keavy a look of bemusement. "Kind of you to say so, 
but let's take things one step at a time, here, kiddo. I've been out of 
action for a long time; I might've lost a few steps over the years. I've 
gotta do well in Khayr ad-Din before I worry about making any new 
'legends.'"

"So there's a little dust on the wheels." the girl replied. "Once you get 
back on the track I'm sure that it'll all come back to you. I mean...I 
remember watching you race, with such vigor and determination to 
win, that I can't imagine its gone. It's like riding a bicycle. Sure you 
may fall off of it but you never forget how to ride it. And the rest of us 
are around to help kick the tires into action. Right mates?"

Juliette smiled lightly at the woman's enthusiasm, then raised her 
cawfee mug and drank. "Right," she then agreed. "If we're to be 
successful as a team we'll need to learn to trust and rely on one 
another from the beginning. I always stressed that with my cadre. 
We'll need to have faith in one another, in each of our abilities."

Billy had listened intently, but finally spoke up. "I heard that you were 
in the Southern Army," he interjected, directing his statement at 
Juliette. "What division did you serve in?"

"5th Cavalry, Republican Army," Juliette answered. Looking out to the 
hazy pink bands of the desert horizon, she added, "The 5th is 
responsible for the security and stability of Saragossa."

Shamus raised a brow ironically. "And a fine job you folks have done 
there, huh. What a fine vacation spot that place is. Khayr ad-Din's a 
pit, but at least there are fewer suicide bombers... You must've really 
impressed the right people to get such a plum assignment, 
Mademoiselle."

Juliette raised her dark goggles so she could look Shamus in the eyes. 
Her own were a luminous green in the morning sun. "It was with great 
honor that I served with the 5th," she answered. "Their task is noble 
and often thankless, protecting the people of the city and the Republic 
from terrorists who think nothing of killing dozens of innocents to 
make their political statements. It is a city wracked by violence, and 
what greater role can a soldier serve than to play a part in ending 
that?"

"So," Hanna spoke up. "Why did you leave?"

Lemanz looked sidelong at Hanna. "I was dishonorably discharged," 
she answered in cool tones. "Wrongly, but the rules of conduct for a 
Republican soldier are unforgiving."

"Harsh," Billy declared. "Between clan and country, living in the 
Protectorate can be pretty unforgiving too. Duty, honor, all that sorta 
stuff."

"Mm," Juliette said with a little more of a sniff than she likely intended.

-----
Deep in the Heaps

Rohgen and Tina had gathered the willing, and some not so willing, 
members of Red Team to accompany them to the haggle for supplies 
from the Trash Queen. Yesterday afternoon, it had taken them till early 
evening to get outside the Core. There had been new security 
checkpoints put in place due to the upcoming race, causing long lines 
and inspections at all the entrances and exits to the Core.

With nightfall, they all decided it best to stop and spend the night at 
Rohgen's parent's apartment. The sleeping conditions were cramped, 
but at least, they were kept safe off the streets for the night. Outside 
the Core, Khayr ad-Din was dangerous at night. Criminals and gangs 
considered anyone caught outside the small apartment and residential 
compounds fair game.

The bright light of Helios was now rising above the wrecks of gutted 
buildings, Piles of refuse, and razor wire fences of increasingly smaller 
and smaller, residential compounds. The three trucks formed a small 
convoy, navigating its way along a pothole-riddled roadway. Though 
Rohgen had wanted to bring his Elan, it was deemed unpractical for 
the mission according to the crew.

In the front of the convoy, Rohgen drove with Tina sitting shotgun. In 
the back seats, Karl Urich and Carlie Edden sat dreary eyed, still 
waking up from an early morning start.

"I didn't think we'd all fit in that little apartment," Karl commented.

Carlie chuckled, mocking. "What do you mean fit? You didn't have 
Lyle grabbing your ass all night."

"He likes you," Karl rebuffed.

"He's a pervert, who enjoys putting his hands wherever they aren't 
wanted," Carlie fired back, shouting loudly.

Tina sat quietly, listening to the ongoing conversation, but not adding 
anything herself. These kinds of observations, these comments about 
their interpersonal dynamics, seemed uniquely human, and it wasn't a 
manner of behavior that Tina had picked up in her travels through the 
Badlands. It was interesting, in that riding in the truck held little else to 
do, so she simply listened and kept her eyes scanning outside.

Trying to change the subject, Karl started a new topic. "I'll confess, 
Rohgen. I was suspicious about that Gual Rat that your mother 
cooked for us last night, but it tasted pretty good. Not a lot of meat, 
but it fed my hungry stomach."

"I told you" Roghen stated proudly, "It's all in the extra secret sauce". 
"So was there anything else, off the list, that you were looking for. It's 
hard to scrounge around there with one set of eyes." An added gleam 
of a smile presented itself like dawning. "I'm on the look out for good 
stereo parts for Keavy's Gear."

"A stereo system will serve no useful purpose on a Gear," Tina 
announced, fully aware of the fact that Roghen wouldn't like what she 
had to say. Maybe it's why she said it. "The systems must be refined. 
Every power draw must be precise, accurate, and useful for the goal of 
achieving victory in a race. We want our Gears to resemble swords, 
not machetes. There will be no stereo installations in the Gears."

Patting Rohgen on the shoulder, Karl leaned in and whispered. "That's 
harsh, dude."

Rohgen whispered back "Nah, she's just letting me know not to tell 
her about it".

Monty looked over Rohgen's shoulder in a rather coy way. He'd never 
seen a purple shaven ape. It seemed a bit high strung, possibly even 
aggressive. He'd have to look into this strange ape species more 
closely, for the betterment of lizard kind, of course.

Just then, the truck hit another pothole. Monty flipped onto his back, 
tumbling headfirst into Rohgen's breast pocket and hitting his little 
lizard head on a bottle cap that he had hidden there.

"How long till we reach the Trash Queen's compound?" Carlie asked.

"We should be just about there," Karl answered. He peered out the 
window, trying to avoid the glare from the newly rising sun. "There it 
is," Karl added. "We should be there in about ten minutes or so."

Rubbing her head from impacting it on the cabin ceiling with last 
pothole, Carlie groaned as she was bounced again by another pothole. 
"Not soon enough for me." Looking toward Rohgen and Tina. "Have 
either of you been to the Trash Queen's compound before?"

"No."

"To the compound? Well, yah..." Rohgen looked around 
absentmindedly to find the past pothole. "I think nearly anyone from 
here at some point has gone to the 'trasher-teria'. It's sorta like the 
dueling arena, big part of the city life". "I used to be a 'Heaper'. No real 
money in it, though it fed me for years. Why do you ask?"

Tina continued to listen to the conversation going on around her. She 
was unsure of just what kind of person Rohgen was, but she was 
certain that after a while, he would tell her. He seemed particularly 
keen on telling story after story. It was only a matter of time before he 
would tell her all she wanted to know, and probably, more.

Rohgen's storytelling made the ten minutes flash past as they 
approached the main gate to the compound. A security guard held out 
his hand, requesting Rohgen stop the truck. Four other guards filed 
out of a guardhouse after the first, each approaching a separate truck 
in the convoy.

-----
In the Transrail Oasis Tower

The elevator lift hummed as it ascended to Sebastian Chance's private 
suite near the top of the Transrail Oasis Tower. Terry McMartin, 
Diego "Chico" Augusta and Clara Anastapulos were all watching the 
floor indicator as it gradually changed, showing that they were indeed 
climbing.

"I can't stress how important this is for the team," Clara reiterated for 
the near hundredth time to both men.

Chico frowned at Clara. "I know," he replied, casting a look at Terry.

"What kind of wine and dine budget do we have for our biggest 
client?" Terry asked, ignoring both of their natterings.

"They should be wanting to wine and dine us," Clara answered Terry.

The lift suddenly dinged, indicating that they had reached the floor. 
The doors then slid open, opening into a fully furnished entree. A 
petite woman stood, poised as if at attention, in centerview. In seeing 
the threesome, she gestured to them to enter.

"Ms. Anastapulos, Mr. McMartin and Mr. Augusta," she announced. 
"Please, come in." She reached out her hand toward Clara who had 
exited first, shaking it firmly but with gentle strength. "It is a pleasure. 
My name is Nadia Detzer." She reach out one hand to Chico and then 
the other to Terry.

Chico took the young woman's hand gracefully. "It is a pleasure, Miss 
Detzer."

Nadia nodded. "If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to my father 
and our celebrity. They are waiting in the other room.

She led them through a set of double doors that opened into a 
massive room lined with couches, a few tables and a full vista of 
windows that looked out over the Core. Two men dressed in semi-
formal attire stood straight ahead, looking out the window.

"Daddy," Nadia called. "The representatives form the Redliners are 
here."

The shorter and fatter man turned, giving off an inquisitive look. He 
looked at his watch and then appeared to relax "Ah, I lost track of the 
time. You're right on schedule. Good," he declared, stepping forward.

The other man, much younger, and looking tall and slim by 
comparison, turned around a moment later, and moved gracefully 
toward the group with long strides. As he neared, he became easier to 
recognize from his roles in movies and soap operas and commercials -- 
he was in fact Sebastian Chance, in the flesh. He was shockingly 
handsome in person, and seemed almost out of place in a real 
situation, as if he should only really exist on a trivid screen somewhere.

He stopped a respectful distance behind the shorter man and stood, 
smiling warmly, waiting for an introduction.

The shorter man introduced himself, taking Clara's hand first. "My 
name is Car'les Detzer, president of Port Oasis Studios." He nodded 
and winked at Nadia. "You've met my daughter, but I should introduce 
you to Mr. Sebastian Chance."

Clara looked up at the handsome, trideo star. Her eyes gave away the 
rush of infatuation that flooded her soul. She reached out a hand. "It 
is a pleasure to finally meet you in person Mr. Chance."

Chance took her hand gently in both of his and shook it gently. 
"Please," he said with a warm, resonant voice, "the pleasure is mine, 
Ms. Anastapulos. I watch the races whenever I get the chance, and I 
have a lot of respect for what you and your team do. Your work is 
very... exciting."

Clara sighed pleasantly at the touch of Sebastian's hands. "Actually, 
it's Miss," Clara corrected. Nadia frowned slightly at Clara.

"Miss," Chance nodded, looking into her eyes with a smile. "I'll 
remember that. And you should feel free to call me Sebastian." 
Turning to the rest of the group, he added, "you all should."

Watching the melodrama beginning was more than Chico could take, 
he just rolled his eyes. "//Another charmer//," he thought to himself. 
"//Don't blow our profits due to hormones, Clara.//"

Stepping forward he acknowledged both men, taking Mr. Detzer's 
hand first. "Greetings. My name is Augusta, but you can just call me 
Chico." He gave a nod toward Terry. "This is Terry McMartin." Mr. 
Detzer nodded in greeting to both men.

Sebastian also nodded to both men. "Good to meet you guys. How's 
the team looking this season?"

Terry held his tongue and waited with for Chico to answer. Whatever 
he said, Terry was sure he'd remember it for years.

Chico looked at Terry, expecting a comment, but Terry remained quiet. 
"The team's doing fine," Chico finally acknowledged. "We had a 
recent incident in the Sand Stone that injured members of our crew, 
but they've recovered. Currently, we're hopeful for the upcoming race. 
The time trials are scheduled to begin tomorrow."

"Yes," Mr. Detzer responded. "I heard about the incident in the Sand 
Stone. Khayr ad-Din is such a lawless place." He leaned in, lowering 
his voice. "Of course, in the South, it's the same way, just linked to 
//official// national security, eh?"

Chico chuckled, his laugh sounding a nervous. Clara gave him a quick, 
dagger stare.

The old executive turned back toward the window and started walking. 
"There is no need to worry, Mr. Augusta...." He turned back. "...and 
Miss Anastapulos." He then looked at Terry. "I have full confidence 
in the Colonel in the security of our star here." He patted Sebastian on 
the back. "The incident was an unfortunate accident, eh?" Terry could 
see that the man had tried discreetly to direct the question toward him.

"I really don't know." Terry replied.

Sebastian nodded, his expression suddenly more somber. "It's terrible 
that people were hurt, especially since the attack came totally out of 
the blue. I think you'll find I don't scare that easily, though. I've been 
to some pretty hairy places over the last couple years."

"Well then," Mr. Detzer responded. "Let's take care of business, shall 
we?" He gestured toward the couches, beckoning everyone to sit.

"I can get drinks for everyone," Nadia spoke up. "What would people 
like? We have a full bar."

Chico ordered first. "I'll take any brew that you have from Innsbruck."

"I'll take a water, no ice," Clara stated.

Nadia looked to Sebastian. "What about you, Chance?"

He smiled his thanks. "I'd love something local, if you've got it 
around."

"You, Mr. McMartin," Nadia asked.

"Orange juice," Terry requested.

Chico looked at Sebastian with a grin. "Ever had a Hard Waterroot 
Juice?"

"I don't think that I know how to make that," Nadia interjected.

Chico stood up, still looking at Sebastian with a fun smile. "I can mix 
one, if you'd like?"

Chance's eyes flashed with enthusiasm. "Sounds wicked. I'll take two."

Chico raised his eyebrow. "Two, eh? I'd recommend one at first. It isn't 
a drink that you gulp down. Plus, it's just after sunrise."

"I don't think that I know how to make that," Nadia interjected.
 
Chico stood up, still looking at Sebastian with a fun smile. "I can mix 
one, if you'd like?"
 
Chance moved to follow Chico to the bar where he could watch. 
"Absolutely, if you don't think it'll kill me. And if you'll show me how 
you do it." 

"Mixing Hard Waterroot Juice is pretty easy," Chico explained as he 
began pulling bottles off the shelves. "You need just four ingredients: 
dark rum, ginger beer, peychaud bitters and waterroot juice, of 
course." He smiled. 

"First dip the glass rim in salt, then add the rum, waterroot juice and 
bitters into an ice-filled glass, tall enough to take the Ginger beer," 
Chico continued as he mixed the ingredients. "Tilting the glass, finally 
pour in the ginger beer. I like Fort James myself. It has a better kick, 
and it isn't as sweet.

Watching intently as Chico mixed, Chance spoke again. "Looks like 
you know what you are doing. Are most of you from up here?" 

"I've been here in the Badlands a while myself." Chico handed 
Sebastian the freshly mixed drink. "Here, I'd recommend that you sip it 
first. The ginger and bitters are what gives it its burn."

[End of Part Eight]

*********************
Dennis D. Kirkpatrick
Littleton, CO USA
ddkirkpat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
http://www.bluething.org
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This message brought to you by the HG-PBEM "OVERDRIVE" mailing list.
http://www.bluething.org/overdrive/

Other related posts:

  • » [HG-PBEM] Weekly Summary 8