89 lines
4.0 KiB
Markdown
89 lines
4.0 KiB
Markdown
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---
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title: 00077
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created: Tue, 18 Jul 2023 17:50:29 -0600
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updated: Tue, 18 Jul 2023 17:50:29 -0600
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public: yes
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syndicated: yes
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---
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### 00077 {#00077}
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> Alex stands in the airlock watching the woman retreat. He briefly
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> gestures to the crew to hold their position while he grips his
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> weapon. "I'll be just a moment everyone. You know what to do"
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>
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> Alex steps into the ship and begins to follow the woman. "Ma'am, what
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> happened here exactly. And how can we help your grand daughter once
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> we've reached Lua? We're happy to take her and assist, but we must
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> know how we can do that. I'd also like to file a report about the
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> attack you suffered, even if you think you're a forgone conclusion
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> we can help others. And admittedly, I'm no doctor, but are you
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> certain there's nothing that can be done about this splitting
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> sickness?"
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>
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> A faint static on the radio "Boss, don't forget the cookies."
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>
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> Alex sighs heavily, "my second in command would like to know if you
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> have any cookies as well. He's convinced helping little old ladies in
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> space somehow nets you home baked cookies."
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~
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> Inky gives the crew a quick sidelong glance, then shrugs internally
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> and hops lightly onto the derelict ship after Master Alex. They
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> follow behind at a short clip, half-registering the captain's voice
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> in conversation with the old lady and hiding a smile at the mention
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> of cookies over the radio. Angry agents or not, at least someone
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> has got their priorities straight.
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>
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> From their position behind and to one side of the captain, they
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> surreptitiously run a scan on the woman for further injuries with a
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> portable infrared sensor, with particular attention to the crack
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> at her scalp. They listen to the old lady's breathing, as well as
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> for any sounds aboard the ship while the instrument takes
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> measurements of vital signs under the woman's skin, including
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> temperature, oxygen levels and presence of scar tissue.
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>
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> <!-- GM: what, if anything, do the measurements reveal about the
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> nature and progression of the old lady's Splitting Sickness? -->
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The old woman slowly shuffles away, back out to the battle-torn main
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deck, clicking and muttering to herself. "There is a grain that grows
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in the dusty red soil of Lua," she explains. "Its fruit can be
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processed and ground into a paste that hopefully will halt and even
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reverse my granddaughter's mysterious ailment."
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As she talks, Inky surreptitiously runs a scan on the woman for
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further injuries. She is wasting away, suffering from advanced stages
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of Splitting Sickness. Her organs have begun to turn to pulp and are
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rapidly failing. Her swollen heart beats irregularly. A thick
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puckered seam runs along its length, threatening to burst at any
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moment. It will be the end of her if the crack in her skull doesn't
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split open first.
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"It's genetic. Her sickness, I mean. At least, it's hereditary. That
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is, her mother died of it. Poor thing." She babbles away as she pokes
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at the rubble on the deck with shaky hands. "I keep her asleep in the
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suspension unit so it doesn't advance any further."
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"Ha! Here we are," she rasps, a lopsided grin scattered across her
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broken face. She jerkily hauls a metallic cube from behind a pile of
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rubble out onto the deck. She opens a panel on its side and pulls out
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a tray of slightly undercooked cookies. A solar oven. "Here you go,
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dearie." The tray trembles in her grasp as she holds it out to you.
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You hear gunfire coming from your own ship. You spin around to look.
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Marvelo has fired two signal flares up and away from the ship. The
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arc of the flares draw your eyes to the Tears of Selene in the
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distance.
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The carcass of an enormous space whale drifts forward from the
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asteroid field. It's a gruesome ship. A starsail cobbled together
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from the bones of dead space whales, sloppily painted with faded,
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patchy red and white stripes. Scrap and salvage and odd rusted pieces
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of metal adorn its sides along with humanoid and bestial remains.
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"Oh no," croaks the old woman. "Oh no, they're back. No no no no no."
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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