Story Time! (*Applause*)

I0wnzj005uck4 · Post by **I0wnzj005uck4** » Sun Mar 24, 2002 7:37 am

I like watching things burn, and because of this I'd like to create Yet Another Post of DOOM (tm). In this post of DOOM, we are all going to tell a story. I would like to see it remain serious, but I can't stop you, you delicious meat-bags of meat...

Here goes. I am a match. Light me.

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Planetfall is an odd experience. No matter how many times you go through the simulator, nothing can prepare you for the sheer terror of your first drop.

Each time you make the fall, something snaps inside of you. Many people liken it to your ears popping on a world with mountains; I wouldn't know, as I've lived almost my entire life on ships or docking rings, and drop pressure inside the cabin is strictly maintained. Then comes the heat. No matter how advanced our technology becomes, the heat is never truly done away with. I mean, you're essentially pushing through the atmosphere of a planet -- you, a human being, never meant to travel into space in the first place. Usually the heat is what pushes the newcomers over the edge, making them scream and wail and attempt to claw their way through the thick trillion plating.

Then the worst part: the gravity. It comes on slowly, but it comes. If you're like me this is something you never truly get used to. I like the fact that, on my ship, I can move from the gravitational discontinuity in the middle out into the cargo bay, where you float freely. Being permanently stuck to the ground, having to use your legs as more than "flippers," is highly disconcerting.

Of course, I make every attempt to skip planetfall if I can help it. Most of my buyers don't mind making deals in docking rings, orbital platforms, or even ship-to-ship (for those I've worked with over an extended period of time). Despite this, that day marked my 215th drop, onto the planet of D'sirmeer. I keep from going insane by counting the minutes. No drop has ever taken more than twenty, on the dot, and most take less depending on planetary diameter and atmospheric conditions. Luckily, the gravity of D'sirmeer is low (rating of something around 0.5), and the air is breathable, so I'd been expecting more of a picnic than what I received when I met up with my buyer, Daravin Trayn.

[ This Message was edited by: i0wnzj005uck4 on 2002-03-25 20:31 ]

Junius · Post by **Junius** » Mon Mar 25, 2002 3:49 pm

Daravin Trayn was Andurian. He was an art dealer. He happened to be interested in the shadier side of things. That

UncleTrombone · Post by **UncleTrombone** » Tue Mar 26, 2002 11:40 pm

I0wnzj005uck4 · Post by **I0wnzj005uck4** » Wed Mar 27, 2002 11:10 am

Wow, this is turning out even better than I could ever have imagined! I'd like to ask that people don't add to the story until there are at least two posts after their last, okay? Somehow we're maintaining a good, steady voice without consulting, despite multiple authors; I'd like to see this string not overtaken by one person.

Keep up the good work. Fuzzy bunny sez shoot to ill.

I0wnzj005uck4 · Post by **I0wnzj005uck4** » Tue Apr 09, 2002 2:48 pm

When the stamp had cleared my bag the manipulators all began tittering in a very unnerving way. I tried to brush it off at the time as my not being used to such strange little creatures, but the feeling stuck in the back of my mind. Something was amiss.

The bird hadn't moved. It was staring intently at the stamp. In particular, it was looking at the side where I'd removed two of the connector prongs. Then it raised its face to meet mine. For a moment it looked angry, if a bird could be said to look as such.

"It's faulty," said the shortest manipulator.

"Trying to trick us, Vinn?" said another.

I put the chip down on the table. "Not at all, gentlemen. Erm, Daravin." I reached in my pocket and pulled out one of the two prongs, and replaced it in the stamp. "The prongs come out easily; they're the cheap part of the stamp, and are generally replaced over the course of a stamp's life." A pause, for effect. "However, the one prong it's currently missing is the hacked controller. You get that with the second half of the transaction, once I'm back on my ship."

For a moment I wasn't sure if my ploy had worked. Then the bird actually laughed.

This time the middle-height manipulator spoke. "You're a shrewd businessman, Vinn." All the manipulators smiled in unison. The effect of their larger-than-human mouths attempting a human gesture made my skin crawl. "Half now, half in the dock."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, quietly. Nothing to worry about. I'd eat for a few more months. I repackaged the stamp while Daravin's minions started running about, attending to various things that seemed important to them. One opened the blast-shutters to the office, turning what I'd thought to be metal walls into floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in some beautiful natural light. I waited.

Eventually a case was produced, opened, and turned towards me. Six hunder sticks of kleria phosphoresced back at me. It was my turn to smile. They'd anticipated my request; the case held only half of my money.

I'd pulled out the purity tester and was about to run a few sticks at random when the door to the office crashed inward, sending splinters of wood and chunks of debris flying, coating the interior of the office in dust. When the dust settled, the doorway had been refilled with singlehandedly the largest Myneod I've ever seen to this day. Seven feet tall and over half that across, muscled, oiled, and angry, it was not a sight I'd been craving.

"Daravinnnnnnn," it said, voice like two rasps grating together over an oboe. Strangely high voice for something so large. "I've commmmmmmmmme forrrrr you, Daravinnnnnn."

The manipulators scattered. The tallest took the stamp out of my hands before I knew what was happening. The other four somehow formed a seat out of their arms and bodies and carted Daravin backwards, towards the windows of the office. The combination of them looked awkward, but moved much more quickly than the bird on foot had. I calmly closed the case with my money and did the same. The Myneod moved forward, shaking the walls with every step, dragging its claws across the walls as it advanced.

I took too long formulating a better plan. "It isssss timmmmmme for you allllll to die." I don't know if it meant me, or if it meant Daravin and his entourage. I didn't wait to find out. Money in hand, I did the only thing I could to avoid being caught in the way of the Myneod: I braced myself and, using the case to shatter the class before me, I jumped out of the window of the building.

It was more floors to the ground than I'd expected, but I managed to land feet-first anyway. The cement walks were reinforced, so the impact crater wasn't as large as I'd estimated it would be, although the force of my fall felled many bystanders. Not to mention the shock factor -- nobody ever sees a Terran fall from a height over twenty feet and live. I stood, brushed myself off, and hailed the first taxi I saw. When I got in I noticed it was the same driver as before.

"Nice show," he said.

"Thanks. Take me to the port, fast as you possibly can. I'm in a bit of a rush."

_________________
- cloud, minister of the pink
http://www.ministryofdoom.org/cloud/
3y3 4m p1nk3r th4n th0u... ph333333r....

[ This Message was edited by: i0wnzj005uck4 on 2002-04-09 15:56 ]

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Story Time! (Applause)