Two
The Shade Tree
“Are we clear for space?”
“Engineering reports O2 and water tanks are full, drive is at 100%, injectors charged, all systems online. All decks report secure for space,” the Exec reported.
“We have departure clearance and a traffic vector,” Signals chimed in.
“Very well,” Captain Barrett ordered, “clear all moorings. Maneuvering thrusters back one-third.”
“All moorings are cleared, Captain,” Paolo Guerra called from the ship’s helm. “Thrusters back one-third. Clear of docking bay in thirty seconds.”
Barrett watched the scanner display on the main screen as the ship backed slowly out of the berth. Twenty-eight seconds later, the ship was clear.
“Come about, new course one-sixteen by twenty. Thrusters ahead full.”
“One-sixteen by twenty, thrusters full,” Guerra repeated. “Six minutes to the space buoy. Say goodbye to Avalon, folks.”
“Very well,” Barrett said. “Indira, will you take the conn? I’m going to go see how our guests are doing.”
She found Amole and his men in the privateer ship’s tiny Wardroom. Amole sat at the head of one of the compartment’s three tables, sipping a cup of coffee. The entrepreneur’s executive assistant sat at Amole’s right hand tapping away at what looked like a datapad with several custom add-ons. A hacker? Jean wondered – the ‘pad reminded her of the custom job used by her Signals tech Kaelee Adams, an accomplished hacker in her own right. Amole’s three “scouts” – big, hard-looking men with the appearance of mercenaries – sat listening to the thin man, who was speaking in a low voice as he fiddled with the datapad.
“Ah, Captain Barrett,” Amole smiled as Jean walked up to the table. “May I present my executive assistant, Darrell Weems, whom you may recall from our first meeting? And my scouts,” he pointed the men out as he named them, “Thomas Gantz, Rafael Opp, and Peter Simms.” The hard men looked at the captain speculatively.
“Gentlemen,” Jean replied. “I just wanted to let you know, we’ll be jumping into subspace for our first destination within a few minutes. Have you all made subspace jumps before this?”
She was not surprised when all three scouts nodded.
“Well,” Barrett continued, “she’s a small ship, so you’ll feel a little flutter when we jump. Some people find it unsettling. If you have any symptoms of space-sickness, please feel free to see Doctor Dodd.”
“We will do that, Captain, thank you. Can you offer an idea of our transit time?”
“To our first stop? About twelve days, give or take a few hours. You picked a few pretty remote systems to look at.”
“I value my privacy, Captain,” Amole said with a feline smile.
Jean looked at him, at his expression, and trusted him less than ever. “I’m sure you do. Gentlemen, I’ll be on the Bridge. Please let my Exec know if you need anything.”
***
The unmapped planet
The night passed, and the group enjoyed their food slowly around a fire. An outside observer would not have noticed any communication between the members of the group. The observer would have noticed how the group divided the meat of the herbivore killed that day without fuss or discussion.
Several of the beings cut the kill up into manageable portions and placed the pieces on flat slates near the fire to roast. Others brought in greens, nuts and fruits gathered from the forest and still others arranged rude wooden platters for the prepared foods. Like a flock of birds wheeling in unison, the individual members of the group seemed to know what to do instantly with no obvious message passed.
When everything was ready, the group squatted around the fire and passed the platters of food around. They ate, as they did everything, silently.
After the food was gone, one of the older ones wiped off the wooden platters and placed them in a rawhide container. Two of the group members mated, while the others watched dispassionately. Then the group gathered once more around their fire.
***
S-2098, an unexplored solar system
The star before them was unremarkable. It shone with a stable, familiar white glow common among stars in habitable systems.
“There are two planets in the habitable zone, all right,” Scanning Technician Anita Knapp reported. “The nearer one is at about 1.04 AU from the star, about 1.3 Earth masses – a heavy planet, lots of metals. Looks like surface gravity is about 1.34 G. The atmosphere is oxygen-rich, spectral analysis shows lots of chlorophyll and water vapor. It’s a wet, heavy planet covered in jungle,” she summarized.
“The jungle doesn’t bother me so much,” Hudson Amole observed. He was standing next to Captain Jean Barrett on the Shade Tree’s Bridge, looking over the Scanning Tech’s shoulder. “Weighing almost half again my normal weight does.”
“It’s not healthy,” Jean agreed. “You can adapt pretty easily to anything from about three-quarters gee to one point two gees, depending on your condition and all. But one point three four? I wouldn’t want to walk around down there very long.”
“Makes you wonder how the Grugell Ambassador and his staff manage on Tarbos,” Hector Gomp added. “Grugell can’t be more than point seven gee. Tarbos is about point nine eight. You can sure as hell tell they evolved on a low-grav planet. Be interesting to know how they deal with what we consider one gee.”
“Let’s have a look at the other planet in the zone,” Barrett ordered.
“It’s in opposition right now,” Anita Knapp said. “We’ll have to get in a bit closer.”
“Helm, jump us across the ecliptic.” She examined the Scanning plot. “New course, zero-two by one, ahead full.”
“Zero-two by one, ahead full,” Sean Weaver answered from the Helm. “Subspace in forty seconds, we’ll drop out near the planet in about five minutes.”
Captain Barrett looked at the time band on her wrist. “Change of watch in twenty minutes. Sean, when we drop out of subspace, put us in a parking orbit over that planet, we’ll do the change of watch there.”
“Programming it now, Captain.”
Sure would be nice to have some coffee up here on late watches, Jean told herself. Almost twenty-three, ship-time – Solomon and Cordelia are probably fast asleep, nobody in the mess room.
A few minutes later, the ship dropped neatly out of subspace as planned. The hash of subspace faded away to reveal a plain, rust-red and scabby gray planet before them. One small ocean glinted dully in the southern hemisphere, partially covered by a few wisps of cloud.
Captain Barrett and Hudson Amole waited patiently as the Second Watch filed out, trading some good-natured jokes and barbs with Third Watch as they arrived to take up duty stations. Jean stifled a yawn as Third Watch Scanning tech Miguel Sanchez sat down at his station, plugged in his headset and fiddled with the board.
“How does it look?” Jean demanded. Her limited store of patience was running thin.
“Almost makes me homesick, Capitán,” Sanchez said, referring to his original home of Nogales in the North American state of Sonora. “It’s a hot, dry place down there. O2 levels are pretty low. Water vapor traces low, except down south around the ocean. It looks like plant life is no higher order than lichens, no large animals I can detect. Gravity is about point nine gee, not too bad to walk around in. I see some evidence of hydrocarbons and a few obvious oil domes in the rocks. Guess the place was wetter at some point in the past, but not no more.” He turned to look at the wealthy Tarbosian. “If you want to colonize that place, amigo, you’ll be cracking oil and brewing synthetics for food.”
“It isn’t really what I had in mind,” Amole admitted. “Captain, we have two more systems to look at, yes?”
“You’re paying the bill, Mr. Amole,” Barrett agreed. “And I can’t blame you, neither of these rocks is any place I’d want to settle.”
“How long to the next system?”
“About a day, as I recall,” Captain Barrett answered the client.
Amole yawned. “In that case, I believe I’ll get some sleep while I can. If the next system looks good, I may be busy.”
“Sound thinking,” Jean agreed as Amole left the Bridge. She turned to the Navigation station. “Summer, plot a good trajectory to S-2101, nothing fancy, best possible course. Get us there fast. Feed the plot to Helm. Alberto, get us underway as soon as you have the course. You have the conn for now. I think I’m going to get some sleep as well. Call me if you need me.” She started to leave the Bridge, then stopped and looked back. “Hang on. No, do not call me. Call the Exec. She’s been asleep for a good hour already.”
“Will do, Captain,” Third Watch helmsman Alberto Vicuna chuckled.
***
The unmapped planet
Morning dawned bright and warm.
The fire had died down to a bed of coals. None of the creatures moved to rebuild it; they were moving that day. One of the pair that had mated the night before got up and glided a few meters away from the group, where it released a small stream of pale, pearlescent spheres. The spheres – eggs- drifted away on the wind like soap bubbles. If they landed safely, they would produce a new group. If not, the spawning group would take no notice.
One medium-sized, undistinguished group member used its leg-tentacles to kick dirt over the remnants of the fire. The largest group member stood tall and extended its sense-organ high into the air, testing the wind, as the other five members of the group gathered the few material possessions the group maintained – a few rough wooden platters and utensils, flint knives, stabbing staves and throwing rocks. These went into two rawhide carrying packs, which two of the creatures slung across their backs.
The wind was freshening. Ready for the trek, the group turned to the largest member.
This largest of the six was not a leader in any sense that either human or Grugell would recognize. The six members of this group, this pod, of creatures tended to follow for other reasons. Each member had a role; each belonged to a specific caste.
The largest creature was a hunt leader. Larger and stronger than the others, the hunt leader had more acute senses and greater dexterity with the species’ simple weapons. It was also able to move more swiftly and silently than the others were. The hunt leader’s coat was brown and pale gray with hints of pale blue and it alone wore a roughly cured hide over its cephalapoid torso. The hunt leaders also were skilled in making the simple stabbing spears used in the hunt.
Two smaller, more dun-colored pod members were breeders. Their function was to reproduce; they were the only caste that produced the small, soap-bubble eggs. The creatures had no gender as such. Breeders were only one caste, and exchanged genetic material and produced eggs equally, eggs that could produce any caste depending on the bouquet of pheromones produced by pods in the areas they drifted through; eggs passing through an area with an overabundance of fire tenders tended to develop into gatherers or breeders. Only about one egg in five produced a hunt leader.
Another member was a fire-tender. This caste, medium-sized, with somewhat brighter coloring, was solely responsible for starting, maintaining, and extinguishing fires.
The two final pod members were gatherers, a worker caste that carried the pod’s materials, produced tools, and gathered plant foods from the forest. The gatherers were the smallest members of the pod, their coats tended towards the gray and their demeanor was more subdued than the others were.
Several pods roamed this broad stretch of forest. Each pod had varying numbers of breeders, fire-tenders, and gatherers, but each pod had only one hunt leader.
A quick gust of wind brought a bouquet of scents to the hunt leader. He withdrew his sense-organ and swiveled his eyes around on their stalks to face forward. With one tentacle wrapped firmly around a stabbing stave, it rolled off into the forest. The rest of the pod followed.
***
Doesn’t animal sell books too?
Ever since I finished ‘Prince of the North tower’ I’ve been trying to find something else with reading.
I’m now rereading ‘the screwtape letters’, which has actually been very helpful.
Yes he does.
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/nova-roma-1-anderson-gentry/1139680306?ean=2940165015069
first in a series
Thanks.
The second book is equally fun, highly recommended
On earlier installments, he had a link to where you could buy his work.
I thought so, but I was struggling to find it in this one.
Always Be Hawking
That’s sure to keep his finances even stephen, yeah…
85 minutes, I can probably go off topic.
I’m taking baby steps towards decluttering. Right now I’m looking at this giant bin in my front room. (Think wheeled plastic garbage bin never used for garbage). It’s practically brand new in terms of wear, but it’s also seriously in the way. I don’t want to throw it out or cut it into smaller pieces to dispose of, because it is in such good condition. But I also recognize that I am not only not using it, but won’t use it in the foreseeable future.
Is there anyplace that would actually make use of such a bin and take donations, or should I break out the sawzall?
My guess is that any charity that moves stuff around (goodwill, habit for humanity, etc) might have a need for it.
Offer it to your neighbors that keep putting their trash in your bin to use instead?
The city will only collect trash that has been placed in city bins. These are green and have the city logo on them.
New project idea: Time to get some spray paint and stencils.
Maybe you can reuse the stencil (3-d printed, natch) to reserve your parking spot too. :p
Will it fit a body?
Asking for a friend.
Probably, it is a large bin, and bodies can be folded.
ReStore or Goodwill
ReStore is probably the better. We did a lot of business (both purchase and donating) with them this past year since moving to Kentucky.
I had never heard of them before. But the internet says there is one in this area.
What I don’t know is if the bin fits in my car. 🤔
ReStore is good. I think it’s part of Habitat for Humanity? We had one nearby but it closed.
If it doesn’t, strap it to your roof and become the latest post for Idiots in Cars.
Leave it behind a business in an alleyway. Problem solved. It will get used.
The bin or the aforementioned folded, spindled or mutilated body?
Business alleyways have cameras, you don’t want to leave your spare bodies there.
What did you buy it for originally?
If you really just want to get rid of it, you could probably just leave it on the curb in certain neighborhoods and it would find a new home.
Originally I thought I would use it for plastic bottles before returning them for a deposit. Given that the bottles in the bin stayed unreturned for longer than those I just bagged up, the change to workflow didn’t work out.
See below.
It might be my neighborhood, but if I put it out on the curb on a Sat morning with free on it, someone will take it off my hands with their hands.
I got rid of a pink shell fiber glass resin vanity sink, a broken plastic hose reel, multiple chairs, and a myriad of other things.
Check for a local freecycle or Buy Nothing group – people will come take _anything_.
Sometimes internet edits are brilliant. If you are a child of the 70s, this is one.
https://x.com/Inga_C8/status/1848349042423587097?s=19
I am curious to see how the collective reacts to the invaders.
Rocks. They respond with rocks.
Rocks like The Foot?
Cheap theatrics
It was almost as if the people ordering the food had been carefully chosen to appear in some kind of clumsy political play — because that’s precisely what happened.
Much of the public probably saw some images of Trump briefly “working” at a McDonald’s in Pennsylvania, but that’s not quite what happened. NBC News reported:
The franchise in Feasterville was closed for normal business during Sunday’s photo op. The customers who went through the drive thru were pre-selected by the franchise and the local Trump campaign team, according to a person familiar with the event. The cars were also screened and searched, and the people in them were wanded down, according to the source.
A staged and choreographed campaign event? Such a thing is previously unheard of in the annals of politicking. It was a cynical pantomime of yeoman labor; everybody knows Donald Trump never did an honest day’s work in his life.
Why would the Secret Service feel it advisable to screen the drive through “customers”?
’cause everybody’s onto their game and they can’t be as obvious about it now?
All of these interactions are staged to some degree, but there is a difference between pre-selected, screened, and searched, and being a professional actor paid to be there.
The way they are getting their panties in a bunch over this, one has to assume it was effective.
From the comments over at Powerline:
As just seen on CNN…
“Noting the positive response resulting from Donald Trump’s shift at a Pennsylvania McDonald’s, and acknowledging her need to lock down Nevada’s six electoral votes, Kamala Harris has decided to work a shift at the Moonlight Bunny Ranch just outside Carson City. Said an enthusiastic Harris, “This is something I know how to do!”
Liberal joy and co-exist love from our German friends…. If OMB doesn’t beat the margin of fraud, Elon had better have a bugout plan, I think.
Glibs cruise has begun!!
https://ibb.co/vVpMGh5
Y’all have fun!
Obligatory
Bon voyage!
Too bad we’re not on Princess – their horn blows the first few notes of the Love Boat theme
Heh… I thought of that right after posting mine.
I think KK has a gentleman caller waiting back at the RV though, so hopefully it won’t turn into “What happens on Glibcruise — stays on Glibcruise”!
I’m saving myself for RV repairman dick 😜
I asked my son-in-law if they play that song when they’re underway. They do not. 🙁
Being almost 50 years old as a song — I suppose it is no longer exciting and new.
And who said glibs aren’t romantic?
Lies. I see no Mexicans, weedz or butt smex.
We haven’t left port yet…give us a minute!
So where are the stops?
Don’t give in to pier pressure!
PR, DR, St Maarten
(also most of the crew is Asian, so we’ll have to modify the motto this one time)
Which asian are we talking? East Asian? South Asian? West Asian? Russian?
Thai and Filipino as far as I can tell
Looks like a Coco Loco.
Pina Colada (double)
G’bye! Don’t forget to write!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCpAJeCbAiw
There was, however, a fleeting moment of policy relevance in this little production. The Washington Post reported:
Trump, a real-estate-billionaire-turned-politician, also did not answer a question about whether he supported raising the minimum wage. “Well, I think this. These people work hard,” Trump said. “They’re great. And I just saw something — a process that’s beautiful.”
That wasn’t a “yes.”
He should have asked the reporter how many people currently working at McDonalds (outside of California) actually make minimum wage, and why the federal government should set wages and prices.
“Because unelected economists who have been wrong on just about every economic issue their whole lives should set the salary of someone 3000 miles away, silly prole!”
Glibs cruise has begun!!
Bon voyage
Only 10 clowns, though
Big News!!! Here is some Cruise Music:
https://youtu.be/SCijNc0iUdE
We got big news, the party boat is here
The band is kicking, and I see lots of beers
And I believe there is gambling
On the deck just below from here
We got Greedo, Solo to the rear
They know the deal, sacks packed and stacked with
Pieces of eight, a sailor’s life for me
Live free or die
Never look a bounty hunter in the eye, damn!
Now, where were we?
I think aces high, sleeves are rolled
Tremendous diamonds and a mouth of gold
I’ve spent many years a rambling
I’ll never change these foolish ways
Cause fortune tellers make a killing nowadays
Best keep living like a castaway
With my sack packed
Pieces of eight, a sailor’s life for me
Live free or die
Never look a merman in the eye, damn!
Yacht rock.
Thanks for the stories, Animal. I really like the alien collective you are describing here, making it as foreign as possible but hopefully we can relate and sympathize with their plight in the upcoming episodes. That was what I liked about District 9, they didn’t sugarcoat the alien society or appearance to make us like them, made us like them despite their looks and actions. See also, what I hated about Avatar.
I bet his name’s Toonces.
Yeah — I’m not normally a big fan of traffic stops and requesting ID and all — but I’m with the cop on this one for who he should call…
Toonces!!! 😆
Poe’s law is tested yet again.
For the sake of my sanity, that is satire, not reality.
trshy is right. No cops wear stunner shades.
For a second I thought that was Lt. Dangle.
That’s meow-ve along.
KK,
What do you have planned for shore excursion on St. Martin (other than the airport)?
Taxi to the airport…that’s it 😆
(we’ll probably go to the Sunset Bar at Maho to eat and watch planes)
👍
I know your time is probably limited, but these were great:
https://www.viator.com/tours/St-Maarten/Captain-Bobs-Most-Popular-Speed-Boat-Snorkeling-and-Beach-Tour/d728-101575P1
https://www.12metre.com/
Kamala Harris has decided to work a shift at the Moonlight Bunny Ranch just outside Carson City. Said an enthusiastic Harris, “This is something I know how to do!”
Is it just me, or is Harris completely devoid of sexual presence? I see no “sex appeal” whatsoever. Just an automaton.
She’s a 60 year old soulless bitch…
Are you really wanting to be into that?
Rule 34 . . . .
No kink shaming. This is a safe place.
Meow.
Are you really wanting to be into that?
Not in the least, but I can’t see anything at all there. She’s like a Disney animitronic robot, or whatever they call them.
Even Hillary Clinton at that age was identifiable as a human female.
Are there Kamala simps like there used to be Hillary simps? That’s a disturbing thing to contemplate.
For the sake of my sanity, that is satire, not reality.
That looks staged to me. The cop is entirely too sane and reasonable.