NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: This is a topic for the conversion and handover of Effrenata's Frenzy Evaders. As soon as he posts, I can get going.]

Colonel Velkin Naragar was half-in, half-out of the circuitry tube of Sim Epsilon when his comunit chimed melodiously in the sequence for “non-emergency urgent.” With a grunt and a mild cuss he shinnied carefully out of the tube and stood up, lifting the protective helmet visor. He thumbed the unit’s toggle. “Naragar,” he stated crisply, noting that the caller was Lt. Ardskerren, his adjutant.

“Colonel? Got an encrypted passthrough from Figurehead Morvaine for you. Can you receive?”

Morvaine? Now what did a metalhead from Otterian House want with the base CO of the Confederacy’s most remote T&R facility? “I can receive.” He moved over to a wall communicator for convenience, tapped in his encryption key, and gave his eyeprint for validation. The message was an eye-popper.

*******************************

Encryption protocol 9-Y-hh
Message begins

Origin: Ganal Morvaine, Prime Military Figurehead, Otterian House
Content: 97 groups
Destination: Base Commander, Kertebren

Decrypt follows:

Q&L finalizing sale of two (2) Frenzy Evader units to the Armed Republic of Khrrck. Units will require physical modification to purchaser’s specifications. Sale contract includes Paes-9 Itaneum-9 320THz avionics control protocols, training and sim packages; at-cost fabrication of structural members as required for modification (Tranest Emtech will carry out all fabrications per their representative Miglach Gems.)

Figurehead Council today gave provisional ratification for transaction, subject to Peace & Quiet Dept. review and Interdepartmental Committee approval.

Units of the Airforce 3rd Tactical Squadron will deliver aircraft your base 0400 ECT 1.16.04. Squadron Commander Jevith Brokentree will remain on TDY to brief Khrrckian pilots for the duration.

Accommodation requirements and arrival times for Khrrckian representatives will be forwarded directly from Khrrck on CommFreq .00r4.

Operational code for this transaction will be NULLBAR. Q&L OIC is Dasinger.

Message ends

********************************

Naragar’s brows went up. So they were selling off the Evaders already? That must mean that the new unit prototype was just about ready for testing. Things might get interesting. Kertebren was frequently chosen as a testing site, given its geographic isolation between the Skane mountains and the Ildjar Straits. Thinly populated, the area surrounding the base included mountains and foothills, high plateaus, and the northern coast of the Meral Sea. Kertebren’s larger sibling Kertvahl was a major training facility for Confederacy Infantry, Paratroop, and Special forces; the smaller Kertebren was mainly a testing and research facility, although some highly specialized units trained there.

At the moment, things were a bit dull. They’d had CalleTyne and Amsys back in November, showing off the new Hovercarrier for Alpine/Nordic unit deployment, but not much since then except the Delan-Tranest people tinkering with Sims Gamma and Theta for the new A/A Whizdang systems. Only one special unit was currently deployed for training, an Infilt Special Ops team working on icewater condition tactics. Poor devils.

This promised to liven things up. What the devil did “physical modification to purchaser’s specifications” mean? And what kind of “accommodation requirements” was Morvaine referring to? He must know they had plenty of space at the moment. Hmmmm… ‘Armed Republic of Khrrck….’ Naragar racked his brain to remember any intel briefings he might have had on the Armed Republic. Nothing was coming to mind. He’d better take the time to bone savvy on that tonight, although doubtless the metalheads would be loading him with TMI as per SOP.

Thoughtfully, he eyeprinted a receipt for the communication, routed it to his encrypt file, and logged off. Thoughtfully, he crawled back into Sim Epsilon to finish the systems checks that might help track down that elusive fault in the firing controls for the Whizdang Blams.

(OOC: Intel briefing on Effrenata HERE:
http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=113835&highlight=)

Transmission Origin: Khrrck Transport Authority
Transmission Destination: Base Commander, Kertebren
Transmission Type: Encrypted Text (PGP)

Mechanics and pilots will arrive in transport w/ pair of escort fighters.
Accomodations will be inside transport, so you don't need to provide any.

Expect arrival within twelve hours.

Transmission Ends

[OOC: Transport: A proprietary design by Kinsong Aerospace. Medium-small rear-loading.
Escorts: A modified "Screamer" P-51 and a Kinsong Aerospace Songbird. (Pretty much a F-105)]

“Captain?” the Commtech5’s fingers were busy as she spoke. “We have IT from the Khrrck FG.”

Captain Rev Porlen of the Devagas Militia (TDY, CCF Kertebren,) switched his channel to examine the transmission.

“Hmmm… simple enough.” He routed a request to Kertebren Base ATC for runway, parking, and hangar availability adjacent to the maintenance/construction hangar where the Evaders had been parked upon their early-morning arrival, then notified Squadron Leader Brokentree of the transmission.

He’d chatted with Brokentree and the other pilot, Windhammer, before they went off to catch a snooze. Like most Elaigar, they were a taciturn pair, but friendly enough. A lot of Elaigar pilots enlisted in the Militia of the Devagas Union upon completion of their Confederacy service. Elaigan’s militia was small, focused mostly on high-mobility armored ground units, and the Union had the best AF in the Confederacy, thanks to the concentration of aerospace and materials engineering corporations in Tris-Hallowan and Feluhil. The 3rd Squadron “PulseDet Otters (PDOs)” got the best of the best. Brokentree had been one of the original Evader test pilots, and was legendary even among PDOs for the number of Survivability LFT&E’s she’d walked away from.

Belatedly, Capt. Porlen also remembered to route the IT to Base Ops Command and to the Tranest Emtech rep who’d arrived a couple of hours ago, Miglach Gems. Gems had already been kicking up a fuss about needing crew detached for transport duty from the Straights docking facility. Kertebren had only two cargo copters available at the moment, and they’d been detached to Kertvahl to supply the new cadre of Confederacy recruits undergoing training. Gems had to settle for hovertrucks.

A flashcom from Base ATC pinged, and he brought up the message. The runway and parking areas had been assigned. Storage Hanger J4 was being cleared for the Khrrck FG. A passive data collection track had been initiated to identify the Khrrck aircraft and ping the approach guidance systems.

Porlen rechecked the reception protocol list. Looked like everything was in place. A recent IT from Dasinger indicated that the P&Q Marginally Empowered Bureaucrats had sent the final sale to the Interdepartmental Committee with a “Do Pass” recommendation. The Militia of the Devagas Union had some pull with P&Q, all right, when they cared to exercise it.

Transmission Origin: Khrrck Air Transport Thirteen (KAT13)
Transmission Destination: Base Commander, Kertebren
Transmission Type: Plaintext

We see you. Entering approach pattern...

Transmission Ends

The first thing most people think when they see a Khrrck aircraft is "How does that thing still fly?".
The second thing is usually "I hope I never have to face it."

The fighter on the right side of the Khrrck transport is nearly unrecognizable as a P-51.
The engine, while still powering a propeller, is a turboprop.
The machine-guns are gone, but it has a pair of chainguns bolted to the wings, and four empty SAM mounts.
An occasional burst of black smoke comes out of the exhaust vents.

The fighter on the left is more conventional.
It's got the traditional jet-fighter shape, and a turbojet engine.
It's also got two wierd-looking guns with flattened barrels recessed into the fuselage, and a motley assortment of bomb mounts on the wings.

The transport, on the other hand, is much more conventional.
It doesn't seem to have any obvious mechanical problems, and there's no obvious weapons.

Transmission Origin: Khrrck Air Transport Thirteen (KAT13)
Transmission Destination: Screamer Five (SCRM5), Songbird Three (SONG3)
Transmission Type: Two-way data/text
Transmission Encryption: None

KAT13: You guys doing OK?
SCRM5: Just the usual coolant drip.
SONG3: No problems...I think.
KAT13: I'll take that as a "Yes", then.
KAT13: I'm coming in to land...
SCRM5: I'll come in next.
SONG3: I'm last, then.

Transmission Ends

The transport touches the runway, and begins to slow to a stop.

The three of them stood in the shadow of storage hanger J4’s huge open doorway, watching the flight group from Khrrck come in for a landing.

“Vorjarat!” Mig Gems muttered. “Somebody needs a ring job.”

Neither of the military personnel smiled at his essay at humor. They were surveying the three aircraft keenly.

“Hmmm. Do-it-yourselfers,” mused Naragar, not without approval. His brows drew together. “What do you make of the guns mounted on the…. uh…. I guess that’s the Songbird?” He addressed the question to Brokentree, but it was Gems who answered. “We’re not supposed to make anything of them, Colonel. Remember, this is our first transaction with Khrrck. Unseemly interest in their ordnance might not be received in a spirit of friendly enquiry, you know.”

Both of the military personnel turned to look at him with that flat deadpan that conveyed an unspoken ‘Just how stupid do you think I am?’ without the kind of overt disrespect that might call for official notice. Gems subsided.

So far, Brokentree had said very little. Unacknowledged even to herself, her main concern was a worry that their new owners might not be able to handle and care for the intricate Evaders as required. She hated the notion of turning her babies over to possibly unappreciative, insensitive hands. But on the surface, she kept reminding herself that they were paying a high price for MDUEv6 and 7, and that price would make it possible for Jevith Brokentree to plop her butt into the control cradle of the new Frenzy Nemesis and do insanely impossible things with speed, space, and gravity. Or maybe impossibly insane things.

The Khrrck flight group taxied from the runway turnoff towards J4 and the waiting ground techs. The three Effrenati stepped out of the shadows to greet their customers.

[OOC: The Khrrck flight group taxied from the runway turnoff towards J4 and the waiting ground techs. Just to let you know; this sort of thing is generally frowned upon. I'll let it get by; I was guilty of it once.]

Its pilot having apparently spotted the techs, the transport slows to a stop some distance to the side of the techs.
The Songbird stops on the other side, and the P-51 comes to a stop right next to the techs.

As the P-51's engine slows to a halt, there's a muffled clang, and smoke starts pouring out of the exhaust.
"I knew that would happen." mutters a low-pitched voice from the cloud of smoke.
The voice, sounding somewhat mechanical, continues.
"I told them this thing ought to have been retired years ago, but did they listen? No!"
A muffled clang comes from the cloud of smoke, as if the pilot had hit something with a hammer.
The smoke begins to clear, slowly.
"That worked."

A reptilian head pokes over the edge of the cockpit, and addresses the people on the ground.
It's got black scales, with a runic character inset in gold above and behind the right eye.
"I'm Kazarak Steelfang, second-best pilot in Khrrck. Hello, everyone."

OOC: Just to let you know; this sort of thing is generally frowned upon. I'll let it get by; I was guilty of it once Thx. Different RP contexts, different expectations/customs. I'm just getting used to NS conventions.
**********************

Effrenata had over the centuries played host to visitors from thousands of human nations, races, and cultures. The engrained urbanity of a national culture shaped by discretion and diplomacy came to their aid; indeed, thought Gems, Brokentree didn't even seem to notice the scaly head -- she was staring at the slowly dissipating black smoke.

The tallest and most imposing-looking of the three Effrenati, Naragar stepped forward, his pleasant, craggy face relaxed. "Welcome. I'm Colonel Velkin Naragar, Base Ops Command. This is Miglach Gems, the attache from Tranest Emtech, who'll be handling your mod supply needs, and Major Jevith Brokentree, who'll be dealing with the operational orientation and training."

With a gesture, he indicated each of his companions as he introduced them, the short, somewhat rotund engineer, bald head reflecting the bright sunlight, gazing up with a shrewd, slighly humorous twinkle in his slightly puffy eyes, and the stocky pilot with the dark complexion and epicanthic fold of the Elaigar. As she was introduced, she turned her gaze from the engine to Kazarak Steelfang, giving him a slight nod and a slow, considering scrutiny.

Naragar indicated the hangar behind them. "If you'd like to shed your birds, the techs will help you berth them in here. The Evaders are in K-5," he nodded at the adjacant hanger, attached by a covered walkway to the nearest building, part of the Flight Training cluster.

"Thanks. You might have to tow this thing, though."
Kazarak climbs out over the wing, and drops to the ground.
He's about six feet long (yes, long), and apparently quadrupedal.
He has claws on all four limbs, and some nasty-looking teeth.
He's also wearing something that looks like a cross between a small backpack and a mechanical spider; four arms and assorted tools mounted on a thin central housing, which is strapped onto his back.

"Sorry about the smoke. I don't know how it does it, but the engine has a nasty habit of dumping lubricant into the burners when you shut it down."
His voice is definitely synthesized, and seems to come from a speaker grille implanted at the base of his neck.

[OOC: I understand. It's usually a basic rule, though; don't mess with other people's characters/whatever without permission.]

Miglach Gems blinked rapidly. "Physical modifications" seemed an understatement. But how fortuitous that the last three iterations of the Frenzy aircraft had moved to the cradle pilot accommodation system rather than the old chair-mount seating. Still, he might have to bring in a couple of assistants on this fascinating project. What fun! His plump cheeks rounded slightly with a suppressed smile, and the sheen on his bald head seemed to positively sparkle.

Naragar looked over at the ground techs, nodded to one of them to get a towcar. He glanced at the other aircraft.

Jevith Brokentree was looking down at Kazarak. "You'll have to excuse me," she said bluntly. "I've never met one of your people before and our intel briefings on your customs are pitifully inadequate. If you find my interactions in any way offensive, please inform me of the correct procedure. I'm no diplomat, though, so you'll have to unroll me a little cable."

Kazarak nods at Jevith. "Well, I'm not a diplomat either, so don't worry."

On the other side of his aircraft, the transport was hinging its rear doors open. Well, trying to. They had opened about a quarter of the way, and another reptilian creature had clambered out, and was studying the jammed doors.

This one is a shiny grey, reminiscent of stainless steel.
"That's what comes from getting your planes thirdhand..." he mutters. He raises his voice and shouts into the transport. "Kazarna arr'kthar rak!"

Naragar cleared his throat gently. "Ahhhh... the base isn't terribly busy at the moment. We just happen to have a few maintenance & repair techs sitting around with their... um, I mean, without much to do. I'd be happy to detail you a couple who can provide access to tools and a few supplies, if you'd like."

He wasn't sure how the offer would be received, some people were pretty touchy about strangers keeping hands off their equipment, but it did seem like a possibly useful offer. And the 4th M&R Unit were basically sitting around with their thumbs up their butts, at the moment.

One of the ground techs had returned with a towcar, and the other approached Kazarak a little gingerly. "Ummm.... Sir....? We're ready to tow your bird. Permission to hook up?"

Kazarak nods to the ground tech. "Sure."
He turns to Naragar. "Nah, it's not that big a deal."

Over by the transport, the grey creature was rhythymically banging the door with a crowbar. "Damn those" bang "incompetent" bang "mechanics!" bang-thunk "Ah, that's done it."
The door groans and slides hesitantly open, and he disappears inside.

The ground techs make fast a hitch, and look meaningfully at Gems and Brokentree, who are standing a little close to the painted lines indicating the path to the interior of the hanger. With an apologetic little grunt, Gems steps away, closer to the transport, which he is eyeing with fascination. Jevith simply moves away, watching the Songbird, now.

An adjutant approaches Naragar, says something in a low voice. The Base Commander frowns. "How bad?"

::mumble-mumble::

"Alright. Tell Pedrenne I'll be down to the infirmary later. And be sure that someone's logged the call to TF-9 HQ at Vilnarest."

The adjutant nods, throws a salute, and moves quickly back between the buildings and out of sight. Gems eyes the Colonel curiously. Naragar's lips have set a trifle hard. "Training snafu." He looks back at Kazarak.

"I guess Major Brokentree can give your Evader pilots the introductory rundown on the training and sims, Pilot Steelfang. And Miglach's team is ready to work with your mechanics and engineers."

Gems nods. "May I suggest we start with a lumascan? That will allow us to superimpose a virtual pilot into the virtual cockpit, and map the necessary cradle alterations and any structural modifications needed."

Behind them, the Screamer moves slowly along the righmost of the four branching lines on the tarmcrete floor of the hanger, until it comes to a gentle stop.

"Sure." says Kazarak. "I guess you'll be wanting to see our existing control setup?"

[OOC: Bah, gotta get a racial name in here somewhere... I hate having to use "sentient reptile" or whatever]

In the background, the Songbird's canopy hisses open.
A copper-coloured sentient clambers out, and drops to the ground with a muted clang.
It glances around, and starts off toward the transport, its claws clicking quietly against the ground.

The engineer nods. "That would be extremely helpful. The Frenzy has moved to disc rather than stick control, which will require detailed motion studies of your manipulation conventions," he starts off, then realizes that he might be going a bit fast. "uhmmm.... if you follow me? We want to give you the maximum possible flexibility and response on controls."

Jevith Brokentree watches the copper-colored pilot drop to the ground, and makes a nodding gesture to the ground techs to take care of the Songbird. The skinny blond one approaches the pilot. "uh, sir? You want us to shed your bird?"

The pilot blinks.
"Err... what? Oh, you want to park it in the hangar? Sure."
The pilot resumes its journey towards the transport.

"I see." says Kazarak. "Here, I'll show you the Songbird's controls."
One of the mechanical arms on his pack swivels to point at the Screamer.
"They're more modern than that thing's."
He sets off toward the Songbird.

Gems' brows pop upward momentarily, but he follows Kazarak

The ground techs are muttering to each other in low tones, unaware of the approach of the Khrrck pilot and the engineer.

"Whahdja callit 'Sir' for? Howd'ya know it's a 'Sir?'"

"Huh. 'S a pilot, right? They're all officers."

"No, jubhead, I mean what if it's a Ma'am?"

Gems clears his throat gently. They turn, startled, and he waves them away with a nod.

"In a moment, please." He fumbles at his belt for his s/s 'corder. "We'll need detailed studies later, of course, but I can get a good start with... ummm..." He looks up at the cockpit, realizing it is some feet above his head.

"Ah, gentlemen?" (to the ground techs.)

"Sir?"

"Stair, please...."

Kazarak pauses at the edge of the Songbird's wing.
He heaves himself up on his hind legs, bracing himself with his tail, and grasping the edge of the wing.
He pulls himself up and onto the wing, grabs the edge of the cockpit, and pulls himself over the edge.

The ground techs roll a mounting stair to the side of the songbird and flip the stabilizer bar down. With a grin at the agile Khrrck, the slightly plump engineer climbs up and peers into the cockpit curiously, s/s 'corder at the ready.

Naragar is watching the transport; Jevith Brokentree is looking over the Songbird from below, looking over the armament mounts and those peculiar guns.

(OOC: grrr, sorry about multiple posts... frickinfrackin' forum software...)

Off in the distance, the coppery pilot stops in front of the transport's doors.
"What's going on here? Shouldn't you be parking in the hangar, not on the pavement?"
The steely mechanic pokes his head out from between the doors.
"Hangar? We're supposed to be parking there?"
"Yes, we are."
"Okay. Here, climb on and we'll park."
The pilot clambers on board, and the doors groan slightly as they close.
A moment later, the transport's engines start up and it begins to roll into the hangar.


The Songbird's guns are recessed into the hull.
The muzzles are flat, wide slits.
The underwing mounts consist of six sets of clamps, possibly designed to hold missiles.
There are three belly mounts, obviously designed to hold medium-sized bombs.


Kazarak is lying on a long couch in the center of the cockpit.
There are four semicircular cutouts on the edges of the couch, which his limbs fit in.
On the right side of the couch, level with his right arm, is a semicircular shape, curved-side down, connected to the floor with a stick.
On the left side is a T-shaped lever and a bank of switches.

Kazarak looks up at Gems.
"Okay. These are the manual controls. This-"
He grasps the horizontal bar accross the top of the right-hand control.
"-is attitude control. You push it forward for pitch."
He pushes it forwards and backwards. "You twist it for roll."
He twists the semicircular shape to the left, the mounting sliding along a track on the outside.
"And push it left and right for yaw." He pushes the stick to the left (toward him) and the right (away).
"This lever on the left is the throttle, and the switches are for startup, engine control, etc."

He pulls a piece of rubber, vaguely cylindrical with holes in the top and bottom, from beside the throttle. It's connected to a spot near the throttle by a thin cable.
"This is the manual firing control."
He inserts it between two of his long, shiny grey teeth on the left side,
and closes his mouth for a moment, demonstrating how his teeth fit into the holes, then removes it.
"You bite down for guns, and spark for missiles."

"Now for the direct control. The plane I came in doesn't have this."
His pack's arms unbuckle the straps holding it onto his back and lever the pack off his back into a recess by the couch.
On the back of his neck, made visible by the removal of the pack, Kazarak has a flat, wide socket.

He slaps a switch near the throttle lever, and a mechanical arm, tipped with a wide, bulky plug, folds out from the wall and jacks itself into his socket.
"The manual controls are basically just backups for this. I can control the control surfaces,"
The alierons tilt up and down, followed by the rudder and elevators.
"-get a direct feed from the radar or external cameras, and control the comm set."
"Basically, if it's adjustible in flight, I can do it with this."

The Effrenati engineer panned his 'corder from control to control as Kazarak explained them, giving a jerky little nod of comprehension from time to time, intent on the instruction.

"This is most fortuitous. Really, MOST fortuitous. I venture to say that you and your people will be pleasantly surprised when it comes to adapting to the Evaders."

Flipping the 'corder off and stowing it in a breast pocket, he leans over the edge of the cockpit, talking earnestly.

"The last three iterations of the Frenzy have moved to a cradle rather than chair mount pilot accommodation. So the cockpit has considerably more main axis length than the old style, and the controls are configured laterally, with a heads-up display. We've found this allows our pilots to accommodate sustained high-g operations with greater ease. Now, of course, our pilots have a posterior rather than anterior orientation, but I think the principles will adapt very successfully, very successfully indeed."

Gems' eyes positively gleam at the prospect.

"ummm.... your direct control mechanism..." his voice gets a trifle wistful... "I don't suppose you'd be able to share the interface concepts? We're working on a biolink, but our progress is very slow. Quite primitive by comparison. Of course the physiology is so different... But it would be most illuminating."

The ground techs add a few more degrees to the opening for the transport, and flip the switch that illuminates the parking guides inside the hangar.

Jevith stares thoughtfully at the recessed guns for a moment, then strolls back over to where Naragar is making verbal notes into his comunit. He looks up as she approaches.

"Well, it will be an interesting challenge, won't it, Major? He sounds a trifle doubtful, but the imperturbable Elaigar shrugged. "They know the principles. I've explained the mechanics many times. The Evader will teach them the specifics. Hopefully they'll learn without getting killed." Her tone got a little dryer. "Or piling up the birds."

"Well, I'd have to find out." says Kazarak.
"The aircraft control connection is a Kinsong adaptation of pack connectons, and I don't know how happy they'd be to share."

The connector unjacks itself and folds back out of the way.

"About high-G operations... I assume you've got limiters to keep pilots from killing themselves?"

Gems cleared his throat. “Ah, well…. a presumptuous question, I’m sure. No intention of prying, certainly. Tranest Emtech fully understands and respects the confidential nature of proprietary technology.” The engineer looked wistful, but resigned.

“As to safeguards, the Evader can be operated in limited or unlimited mode. Limits can be pre-programmed on a flexible basis, with overrides available to the pilot, if that is desirable.”

“G-tolerance might be another matter—our pilots wear G-suits, and the pilot cradle includes a limited magnetic G-compensation capability. What are your limitations in that respect?”

"Magnetic G-compensation? That's great!"
Kazarak grins.
"We can stand quite a lot. Ten G, without protection. With that magnetic system of yours... I'd have to see specifications."

Gems blinks at the sight of Kazarak's grin, which (OOC, I'm assuming here, but...) affords a generous panorama of sharp teeth, but refuses to be distracted. "Well, the magnetic G-compensation is limited, but it enables our pilots to exceed their normal G-tolerances by fifteen to twenty percent. Perhaps if we can rig a centrifuge for you...." (His eyes get a little distracted, as though he's already thinking of how to accomplish this.)

"Well. Suffice to say it looks as though the Evaders will be an excellent match for you!" he beams, and looks over his shoulder, to where the transport is parking, and Jevith Brokentree and Colonel Naragar are watching.

A lanky, blond-haired young man in an unmilitarily rumpled uniform coverall emerges from between two nearby buildings and shambles with an odd, uncoordinated-looking gait over to Jevith Brokentree. He pops a salute to Naragar, and nods to the pilot, who silently gestures to the Songbird. He turns and looks.

"Oh, good! Hilgisin's arrived. He's the Master Tech in charge of Major Brokentree's mechanical team. He can brief your mechanics on the Evader prep and maintenance protocols."

With another longing glance at the Songbird's cockpit, and especially the spot on the cockpit wall where the direct control connector folded back, the engineer turns and descends the stair.

OOC what the heck is going on?

mat.

[OOC: Weldherrschaft, what are you talking about?
Effrenata, your assumption is correct. Also, I've finally gotten my description on a computer with net access, so I'll post it and let you "discover" it.]

The transport rolls to a stop inside the hangar, and the engines slowly wind down.

Kazarak waits for Gems to reach the bottom of the ladder. Then, he clambers over the cockpit edge, pack once more on his back.

He drops to the ground with a metallic clang.
"I'll tell our mechanics that you're ready to begin. Just a moment."


Transmission Origin: Kazarak Steelfang
Transmission Destination: Khrrck Air Transport 13
Transmission Type: Two-way data/text

Kazarak: They're ready to brief you guys on maintaining the Evader.
Kazarak: So it's time to get out of there.
KAT13: OK. I'll get the hatch open, and go out with Karra and Zak'mar.
Kazarak: Good. Go to this hangar. <schematic image>

Transmission Ends


"They'll meet you in the hangar with the Frenzies." says Kazarak.
He starts off towards the hangar.



[OOC: OK. This is a public UN report, available via net. A bit of digging should unearth it.]


KHRRCK

Outline
Khrrck is a nation of nonhumans. (Wyrms) They are basically interdimensional refugees; see History.


Homeworld
The world that the Wyrms spent most of the previous 500 years on,
(known to the Wyrms as Newhome) has a high concentration of metals (mostly iron)
giving it a gravity of about 3.2 G.
The life there has learned to survive in the brutal gravity,
reinforcing their skeletons with metallic compounds.
The terrain is mostly desert sands, with a few, rare oasis spots
where life can survive.
There are no oceans on the planet.
The rest of Newhome's life lives underground, in the harsh, barren caverns,
which extend for thousands of miles under the surface.

Current Territory
Khrrck's terrain is quite different from the terrain of Newhome.
The terrain is just as barren, but consists of mountainous regions
interspersed with tracts of plain and desert.


Appearance
Wyrms are lizardlike, varying between five and seven feet in length.
They have short, strong claws adapted for digging in their native caverns
and defending themselves against marauding predators.
They vary in color from wrought-iron black to coppery gleam.
With their muscles adapted to the high gravity of Newhome,
they have an advantage in strength over most sentients.
They walk on all four limbs, but can lift up,
balancing on rear limbs and tail, to manipulate objects.


History
Khrrck has a long and sad history.
Khrrck's entire population is descended from a a group of
about five thousand soldiers, who were routed through a malfunctioning Gate*
onto the planet of Newhome.

When they arrived on Newhome, every magical device they had failed,
except for those which had stored magic.

This relatively meager amount of stored magic was used by the magicians
within the group to adapt the Wyrms to their new planet,
taking useful traits, such as metal-reinforced bones, from the native animals.

For the next five hundred years (approx.), the Wyrms built
and researched on their new home, looking for a way back.
Finally, about fourteen years ago, they thought they had found it.
Requiring massive amounts of electrical power, the New Gate would rip
a hole in space, hopefully reconnecting them with their old home.

Unfortunately, they couldn't see what was on the other side, and
by the time the New Gate was designed and built,
almost all of the population had lost interest in getting back.

Nevertheless, a small group (about 1,000,000) of Wyrms decided
to take the chance. They travelled through the New Gate,
armed with construction equipment, a large library,
and some formidable expertise with mechanical devices.

They came out in what is now Khrrck.

It took them a few weeks before it was established;
they were not where they had hoped to be.

The first few years were hard.
The Wyrms were still adjusting to the low gravity,
and several were mistaken for monsters and shot before they became established.

They made several massive purchases of blueprints and
antique military equipment. As well, they began to design
their own machines, using the expertise gained on Newhome.


One thing about Khrrck was better than Newhome.
After the first few months, it was discovered that a
few of their antique magical devices now functioned again.
The Wyrms immediately retreived every magical text they could
from the supplies they had brought, and began a series of experiments
on the use of magic. While they have made progress, their expertise
is nowhere near what they once had.

*From the Khrrck histories, I deduce that a Gate is a point-to-point instantaneous transport device.

Justin Baker
UNND Historian-Writer
-From the UN Nation Database

With a nod to Kazarak, one of the ground techs pulls the mounting stair out of the way. “Uh, Sir? Would you like a power hookup for your transport?” He gestures to the other ground tech, who is busying himself with a cable and a box of varying connectors.

Gems moves over to the Base commander and the flight team. “They’re ready for their briefings. How long will they take? Just from what I’ve been able to observe so far, it will be about a three-day job doing the mods they’ll need. Assuming, Colonel, that I can bring in a full T/E mobile fabricating unit?”

Naragar nods. “Traffic control’s already picked them up. They’ll be routed to the Evader maintenance hangar, J-7. We’ve also, finally gotten an intel briefing on the wyrms from Khrrck. You can access it on the NULLBAR site. Well, Major?” He turns to Jevith Brokentree. “How long on the pilot training?”

The Elaigar appears to consider. “I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be in a briefing room. Live is better, of course, but we can transmit sight/sound to their transport, if that works better for the initial introduction. About 2-3 hours, since we’ll be making some control mods, I assume?” She looks at Gems.

“Surprisingly few, actually. I’d like to have at least one of their crew join me in the lab for physios to determine the best manipulation protocols for the manuals. I think they’ll rig their own automatics via biolink.”

“Biolink?” Naragar is impressed.

Jevith, too, looks impressed. “Well, if we’re only briefing principles at this stage, just a couple of hours. I suggest we get them into sims as quickly as possible. If our system will interface with theirs, we can start with the two-Ds while you rig something for the full-motions.” She turns to Hilgisin. “Prep/Maintenance?”

The Dallarni mechanic speaks with the faint Svaldi accent of the clans who call the remote Vistdal peninsula home.

“Flight prep, six to ten hours, with repeats later. Yif t’ey can use our holotapes, cut the repeats. Maintenance…” he shakes his head. “T’irty hours for our personnel, and t’ey already familiar wit’ Frenzy protocols. T’ese… wyrms…?” he looks at Naragar for confirmation, and the Colonel nods. “Yif t’e wyrms learn fast, couple days, maybe. We brought Ev-7 in clean, but Ev-6 needs routine, so we let ‘em practice on t’at. Anot’er day, maybe. Only problem might be how t’ey use flexceram sprayers. Maybe have to modify t’em.”

Gems nods. “That should be no problem. Those packs on their backs have extendable manipulation, we can just rig a nozzle control that can be connected with those, and a tank that can be mounted on a rollabout frame.”

The mechanic nods. “OK. Looks like t’ey ready to get started. My team already unloaded in J-7.” He moves over to the transport.

Gems returns to Kazarak. “Hilgisin will escort your mechanics to J-7 and give them the security protocols for hangar access. Can your pilots attend a live briefing with Major Brokentree, or would you like us to set up a sight/sound transmission?”

Kazarak glances at the tech.
"A power hookup would be nice, but we'll have to make sure you've got a connector that'll fit."

He turns to Gems.
"A live briefing would be fine. Why wouldn't it be?"


The transport's rear doors open. Halfway.
The sound of argument can be heard from within.
"No, I am not going to fix it again. You can get out, and that's good enough."
The grey Wyrm clambers out of the transport, and nods to Hilgisin.
"Hello. I assume you're our guide?"

The tech nods, and thumbs-up his colleague, who takes the box of connectors over to the transport.

Gems shrugs. "Wherever you are comfortable. We know little about your physiology. Major Brokentree?"

Jevith nods to Kazarak. "Ready if you are. We'll brief in A-4, over there," she indicates an adjacent building. "Will there be other pilots joining us?"

Hilgisin studies the gray Wyrm. "Okay, you ready? Just you? Needs a crew of at least t'ree to do prep. Maintenance can get by wit' two, better wit' t'ree, best wit' four. T'ose t'ings..." he gestures at the pack on the Wyrm's back (OOC: Do they all have them?) "need anyt'ing special for tools? I can have my boys in t' shop knock somet'ing up, pretty quick."

He thinks for a minute. "Oh. Yah. I'm Birgi Hilgisin. Birgi, OK?" He looks pleased with himself for remembering the courtesies.

[OOC: Unless I specify otherwise, yes.]

Kazarak nods. "Just a moment while I tell the other pilot..."

Transmission Origin: Kazarak Steelfang
Transmission Destination: Kaharka Copperclaw
Transmission Type: Two-way data/text

Kazarak: Briefing in here. <diagram> Come over.
Kaharka: OK.

Transmission Ends


The grey Wyrm pauses for a moment, apparently confused by Hilgisin's accent.
"Er. Zak'mar Ironscale. No, there's three of us."
The coppery pilot clambers out of the hatch behind him and heads off towards A-4.

Another Wyrm, this one black, drops out of the transport.
Zak'mar glances in his direction.
"Where's Karra?"
A third Wyrm, also black, clambers out.
"I'm here."

Zak'mar turns to Hilsigin.
"As for tools...it depends. What sort of tool do you need? I've got-"
His large, bulky pack unfolds its three arms, which are much thicker than those on Kazarak's pack.
Two of them are tipped with three-fingered pincers, and the center arm has a old-style gas torch on the tip.
"-a torch, various screwdriver tips, a adjustable wrench-"
The left-hand arm reaches over and pulls the pincer off the right-hand arm.
It clips the pincer to the side of Zak'mar's pack, and pulls something that looks like a cross between a socket wrench and a electric drill-chuck, which it attaches to the right-hand arm.
"-electric drill, and various drill bits."

---Post deleted by NationStates Moderators---

Why?

"Hufta!" Birgi exclaims, studying the extensions with interest, and, maybe even, a little envy. "T'at's handy. Okay, Zak'mar. We'll see how t'at works wit' our stuff. Maybe we have to knock you out a coupla bits or tips, whatever, if t'e sizes and heads on Evaders don't match what you got. My guys in t'e shop will sort it out."

As he talks, he is leading the Wyrm mechanics toward J-7. When they get there, a trooper from the base complement, wearing dark-blue Confederated Forces uniform (Jevith and Birgi wear the grey-and-yellow of the Devagas Union Militia) is at the door. The trooper stands aside, revealing an eyeprint reader. While it is on a flexible mount, it can be lowered only to about 115 centimeters from the ground. After Birgi leaves his eyeprint, he enters a code on a touchpad.

"Okay, we get your eyeprints now, you'll have access to t'e hangar," he pauses a moment, looking at the three Wyrm, momentarily perplexed by their quadripedal position, which won't get them high enough to use the eyeprint reader. "hmmm...."

**********************

Gems clears his throat. "Ah, Kazarak. Would it be possible for one of your crew to join me in the lab? I'd like to establish physio parameters, do the lumascan, that sort of thing. Needn't be yourself, since Major Brokentree is ready to start, but if it could be someone roughly similar in size and dexterity, and, ah... equipment..." he glances at Kazarak's pack, "that would give us a start."

"Yes, that'ss a problem..."
Zak'mar eyes the reader critically.
"I suggest you open the door for us, and we can deal with it later."

************************

"Well, everyone's pretty much occupied right now." says Kazarak.
"I could give you the other pilot, or perhaps one of the mechanics, but that would mean pulling them away from what they're doing."

The lanky blond mechanic's pale-blue eyes narrow slightly. "hmmm...." He nods decisively, and pulls a communications device from one of the many pockets in his uniform, flipping it open as he does so, and punching a code with his thumb.

"Vrij? Je, v'li, Birgi. Kens ji mag hirs'ni? Vre da iropti venger na J-7 te ultroppen. Gjet an..." he squints absently at the Wyrms for a moment... "an zolev centimetren, je? Kut. Tenke."

"OK." He punches another code on the touchpad, and a light glows blue. The door swings open.

As they enter, faraway lights mounted on the hangar's ceiling struts come on, in sequence, rolling away from them. The hangar is designed to accommodate up to three quite large aircraft, so the Evaders look almost small in the vast floor space. On the far side, they can see the huge bay doors. Along the walls an array of machinery, scaffoldings, tanks, and tool racks are displayed neatly, while running from overhead rails between the three huge bays, hoses, extensible hydraulic tools, and cables with connectors and hooks hang loosely.

The Frenzy Evaders are in the two further bays.

As he moves into the hangar, Birgi says "OK, one of my guys fix t'e eyeprint reader by lunch, no problem. Here's your birds."

The two aircraft have the same compact profile, with steeply swept wings with razor-sharp leading edges. They are a dull gray, with a slight bluish tinge, in color, the surface is oddly matte, reflecting no light. The top shows no clear canopy, it is simply slightly humped along about half the length of the fuselage, and the gray-blue coating is very faintly translucent. The seam appears invisible from this distance (about 40 meters.)

The wings are trapezoidal with a marked anhedral--these babies will roll if you look at them sideways. The huge, industrial-strength elevons seem almost out of proportion. There is a canard near the nose to help minimize trim drag. The engines are integrated with the lower wing surface near the fuselage, and each consists of a pair of tubes, the one nearer the fuselage slightly larger in diameter, perhaps 20 cm. They seem impossibly slender.

Along the side of the elevons are stenciled large grey-and-yellow "DMU"s, and on one, the legend "Ev-6" and the other "Ev-7." Near the nose of each is a smaller device, a sleek otter shape riding a narrow cone of fire. Under the one on "Ev-6" is the legend "Mercat Mirkat," and on "Ev-7" the name "Loki's Revenge."

Birgi looks at them fondly. "You're gonna love t'ese guys, but t'ey like a high-price piece-a tail. Gotta give 'em exactly what t'ey want to keep 'em happy."

He walks toward the nearer of the two, the "Mercat Mirkat." Next to it is a heavy-looking rack on a solid-looking base, containing an array of tools. He slaps a switch on the rack as he passes, and with a loud hiss, the solid base rises about 5 centimeters off the floor. He pulls it with him as he moves from the front of the aircraft to the tip of the wing, and then slaps the switch again. With another hiss, it settles back onto the base.

"OK, you want to start with structural maintenance or engine maintenance?" he asks the Wyrms.

*********************************

Gems shrugs. "Alright. I'll let Major Brokentree have first crack at you, and do some preliminary studies with the recordings from your cockpit. Major, when you're done with the introductory briefing, will you let me know?"

Jevith nods. "Sure." She turns to follow the coppery pilot, gesturing for Kazarak to join her.

When they reach A-4, there is another trooper stationed by the door, but this one has no eyeprint reader, it simply opens. It's a big, one-story, windowless building, and in the entry way Jevith stops to punch a code into a keypad, and look at the lighted array that results.

"TR-3. That'll be the first one along..." she turns at the first left, "this corridor." She holds a door for the Wyrms.

The room's normal complement of chairs with steno arms have been shoved to aside. It features three levels of broad descending semi-circular tiers, and, at the bottom, a slender column about a meter high, with a flat top. The front of the room is a blank, curved, pale-gray wall.

Jevith descends to the column.

"Make yourselves comfortable. Projections will be here--" she gestures behind her to the front of the room-- "Mostly two-D in this intro." As she's speaking, her fingers dance over the flat top of the column, and behind her a large image of an Evader springs into existence, in profile, parked.

Zak'mar eyes the engines uncertainly.
"Let's start with structural."


***********************************


Kazarak curls up on the second tier,
while the coppery pilot, seemingly wanting a closer view, lies down on the bottom tier.

Kazarak nods to Jevith.
"We're ready to start."

With another nod, Birgi turns back to the cart and punches a code on a keypad integrated into the side. A slot opens at the back, and a translucent rectangle emerges to stand perpendicular to the top of the cart. Its surface darkens, and with another button touch Birgi brings up a set of equations and diagrams, glowing brightly. As he talks, he points to the aircraft, and to the screen, which sometimes functions like a blackboard--it goes dark, and he 'writes' on it with a finger touch that leaves a glowing trail.

As he talkes, the Svaldi accent grows markedly less in spots, especially where it's clear he's delivering material he's delivered many times before.

"OK, landing gear, probably no surprises here. But I can tell you t'is... T'e forward tire gonna have to be replaced every t'ird, maybe four't landing. T'ey had to use this small diameter gear, and it takes a lot of wear. Evader needs a good 5,000 meters minimum for a landing, longer on takeoff. Now, lube on the gear is pretty standard, but watch for cracking in the gaskets around the wells..."

He points to the area on the Mercat Mirkat, and brings up a detailed schematic on the screen.

"Basically, t'e Evader's structural members can take everyt'ing a live pilot will t'row at it, no problem--assuming skin integrity is good and she's been maintained on schedule. But the gasket replacement schedule is a killer. We haven't been able to find anything that will stand up to more than a couple hundred hours' flight, and t'e schedule calls for complete replacement every 120 hours, no exceptions. Pilots like to push t'is craft's envelope every opportunity t'ey get, so don't be surprised at how much t'ey'll take out of it in a short time.

Okay, t'e big structural issue for this craft is, as I've already mentioned, skin integrity. T'e flexceram coating," he strokes the wing, "is a superinsulator, needs to be to keep t'e caradium from crystallization damage at ultralow tropospheric temps.

It's also," he turns back to the screen, and touches a few keys, "your pilot's stealth assurance."

On the screen, a video sequence shows readings from detection instruments-- IR & radar-- focused on a patch of sky being crossed by an Evader. It is virtually invisible, even to the eye, blending in almost seamlessly with an overcast sky.

"But... " he reaches up with a screwdriver, and casually rakes it across the wing surface, leaving a visible scar, "she's not any too durable, and the t'ermoluminum film underneat'.... he shines a handlight on the scar, which reflects it clearly, "shows up like a hoor in church. Plus..." he touches the keypad again, and an electron scan of a piece of caradium strut shows a network of crazing that indicates structural failure, "you'll get your bones cracking wit'out the extra protection."

"So..." he moves over to a control pad that is hanging from a cable, and keys a sequence. In a moment, a red light comes on. "You scan by eye, AND wit' a optiscanner...." he reaches up, pulls down an instrument, and points it at the wing. As he points it, the screen on the maintenance cart shows an image of the wing, with the scar glowing brightly, and a couple of other small bright spots.

"Every time... and I mean every time..." he turns to look at the control pad, where the light has changed from red to amber, then turns back to the Wyrms, "'t'is guy comes in or goes out. You map every fault... we'll just do t'is bit of t'e wing for now..." he glances at the control pad again, and the light is now green. He keys another sequence, and turns to pull a pair of goggles off the cart, putting them on.

Taking a step or two to his right, he reaches up without looking and pulls down a nozzle. Moving to the Mercat Mirkat, he expertly sprays the scar with a fine, glowing spray, and pulls the nozzle back. The glow fades, and he applies another coat. And repeats it again. There is no seam or overlap to show where the new coatings were sprayed, they're completely bonded into the old coat.

"You spot spray, every time. T'e regular schedule for a complete recoat is 250 hours. Your contract includes a supply of coating should last you a good while, you can get more from us any time, so don't be stingy. And be sure..." he points to the green indicator on the control pad. "you let it reach full volatile temperature before you spray. If it's not at optimum temp, you won't get a bond."

"Okay, got any questions?"

**************************************

Jevith turns to look at the projection, then turns back to the Wyrm pilots. "If you've never flown anything like the Evader before, the first thing you'll notice about it is that it is hypermaneuverable. Or, as the critics like to say, significantly unstable." Her half-grin makes it clear what she thinks of "the critics."

"It has a low tolerance for pilot error, so I suggest you bang the sims until you're at 99.9% or better. In spite of its advanced avionics systems, which are designed to handle most of the routine flight condition evaluation and analysis and leave you free to make decisions, it's still got practically no margin for error."

"Now, that said..." she touches a button and the display changes to a set of numbers and equations, "for its class, the Evader has a decent survivability rating. But I emphasize, that's for its class. And of course, we don't know what the cockpit mods will do to that. So, basically, the first thing I'm saying is, get careless with these aircraft, and someone will end up dead and your investment will lose a lot of value."

"So. Caveats out of the way. Let's get to the good stuff. This is one fun birdie to fly."

The display switches again, to a simplified diagram of the engines, paired large/small tubes, cutaway to show a ring of smaller tubes in the big tube, with a blocky-looking thermal initiator at the front of the smaller tube.

"The upside to this engine is that it has a thrust density vastly overproportioned to its size. It's a dual-cycle engine, that operates in two stages. The transsonic stage is for takeoff and landing. Its function is to get you in the air and get you supersonic as efficiently as possible. The supersonic stage is your operational standard."

"The downside is that it sucks for subsonic performance. You'll get a high incidence of fire-outs, logy control response, low fuel efficiency. Now, the initiation sequence..."

The display changes again, showing a cutaway of the wing, which displays the fuel lines, tanks, and an auxiliary cylinder with a line that connects to the smaller tube.

"...requires the injection of highly compressed air with the fuel mix, to start the primary detonation wave cycle. This makes for a fast takeoff, but you still need a long, long runway to get the cycle up to max efficiency, and to re-stabilize your center of gravity as you pick up velocity, so you don't turn cartwheels all over the field."

The display shows an Evader igniting, and starting to move down the runway with an abrupt forward thrust that looks like it could snap an unwary pilot's neck.

"As you can see, you hit a pretty steep angle right off the ground."

She flips the display again.

"Now, you're pretty much flying by wires in this machine, but your avionics will handle the hard parts. The computer's reflexes are always faster than yours, so trust it."

The display shows a view of the cockpit. The pilot is semi-recumbent, in a body-length cradle mounted on three-way gimbals. The cradle arms both end in fan-shaped panels that contain the control devices. The main one, on the right, is a flat disk with slight depressions at intervals around the edge. The camera moves in to the pilot's POV, and shows the display on the inside of the cockpit canopy.

"Now, I know we're going to do the mods for you, but let me cover this so you have an understanding of how the design elements relate to your functionality. The cradle pilot support has two-- well, three-- functions. First, it improves pilot physiological tolerance to the high G and extreme maneuvering stresses. Secondly, by extending functional elements on a longer axis, it provides much greater flexibility and wider access to your controls and displays. And finally, it is responsible for much of the aircraft's pilot survivability rating."

The display switches to a view showing a pilot's left hand pulling an arming lever, and the right hand slapping the panic button. From the head end of the cradle, a sheath slides down, encapsulating the pilot; and as the canopy splits into two sections laterally, the capsule is precipitated up and out of the cockpit.

"I don't know just how Gems is planning on dealing with the ejection capsule issues. The capsule ejection system evolved because even though we wear the most advanced pressurized grav suits and oxy rebreathers, the combination of altitude and accumulated velocity too often exceeds the ability of the suits to protect fragile human protoplasm. Now, you have the option of second-stage eject, once you shed sufficient velocity and altitude."

The display shows the capsule separating into five parts, and the pilot free-falling until a chute deploys.

"Or, you can stay in the capsule and let it take you down."

The display shows a capsule falling, starting to turn end-over-end, then deploying a drag and a full chute, and drifting gently down into the water, where it bobs gently.

"If you're lucky enough to be over water or clear terrain, the capsule landing is no problem, and it has survival amenities that will keep you going for quite awhile if necessary."

"Let's get back to altitude for a minute."

The display changes to show an Evader surfing the troposphere and climbing to mid-stratosphere.

"Your operational ceiling with this aircraft is about 25,000 meters. I've pushed it to 32,000, a procedure I wouldn't recommend under most circumstances, but peg it at 25,000. You don't run much risk of fire-out if you stay above the tropopause, but low-altitude flight can sometimes result in fire-out if you hit certain types of atmospheric anomalies, weather vortexes, etc. At low altitudes, you don't have much time for re-ignition, which is a chancy procedure in flight under the best circumstances.

"So your best operational altitude parameters are between 16,000 and 25,000 meters."

"And another word about fire-out. In some aircraft it may be possible to douse your jets to shed a heat-seeker, and re-ignite safely. Don't try it in this aircraft. Mind you, it shouldn't be necessary-- you're pretty well invisible to heat-seekers at any range beyond a thousand meters or so. But supposing someone gets off a lucky shot and it gets close enough to 'see' you, use your heat diddlers."

The display shows a control.

"This will release an array of ultrahigh temperature flak that generally fools most heat-seekers."

"Any questions so far?"

"Is it possible to add too much flexceram?" asks one of the black Wyrms. (They're practically identical.)
"If so, what will it do to the aircraft?"

--------------------

The coppery pilot speaks up.
"If there's a emergency, how fast can you get it off the ground?"

"Oh, je, sure, too much. Two ways to apply too much-- uneven is worst, could be disaster. You spot spray too heavy in one area, your t'ermoluminum gets stressed, you could end up wit' skin rupture when t'e pilot's doing high-stress maneuvers. Optiscan will tell you when you got enough on, then give t'e guy one more light spray for safety an' your done. You'd have to really pile it on, t'ough. I tell you my secret, if you promise NOT to use it as a shortcut-- you rely on t' scan, je?" He looks earnestly at the Wyrms.

*************************

Jevith nods. "Good question. Depends on a lot of factors, number one is your ground team. Really topnotch ground team will have you operational in maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, if the aircraft is fully maintained. That's assuming the aircraft is in normal off-mission mode, and empty, but requiring no extensive ground transport. Also, that's going with a minimum weapons load, using our systems. I don't know what your systems might require.

"Now that's an emergency scramble-- using only the default mission parameters in your onboards. You'll have to be doing nine or ten things at once yourself, so hopefully you still have linkage with your tactical control to update your mission controls. But if, Marenkalion forbid, your tactical control is knocked out, there's a set of pre-programmed options you can select from as soon as you're secured. Then, if you're lucky enough to get a clear window, you can refine your choice with whatever details you need.

"Normally we allow between forty-five minutes and an hour's pre-flight prep, but that includes safety checks and mission control installation and checks. That's for what we call a "pickup" mission-- recon, operational surveillance, intel, tracking, whatever-- where the aircraft is minimally or only lightly armed.

"For a "dropoff" mission-- escort, fighter, ordnance delivery, etc., you can add the time needed to secure your ordnance and magazines, run operatinal checks, etc.

"Again, the key is always your ground team. Your mission is only as good as your overall teamwork..." she stops herself, grins. "Heck, I guess you guys don't need the lecture portion of the briefing. I get into the old autopilot mode, I do a lot of training. Any other questions on takeoff principles?

"Of course." agrees Zak'mar.
"You rely on your instruments, unless what you see doesn't agree."

************************

Kazarak glances at the coppery pilot, who nods.
"No, we don't have any more questions."

Birgi nods. "Je. Kut. Okay, here's what I do-- I test t'e dynamic tension of t'e skin by sound." He reaches up and taps the area he just sprayed sharply, then moves about half a meter over, taps again. The outermost sound has a hollow backtone to it, but the pitch and overtones are just alike.

"What you don't want to hear is a dull sound, like...." he frowns. "Well, later we overspray here and I show you. Anyway, you get to know by how it sounds and feels when you tap. T'en when it feels coming right, you scan... usually it's good t'en."

"Okay, t' other way you can apply too much-- on t'e re-coat. Re-coat can be tricky. First, you have to be sure you have all t'e old coat off. Your pitched sonic barrage takes it off, right up close like t'is," he reaches over to the cart, and puts on ear protection. "You better move back if you're sensitive to ultrahigh frequency combinations, OK?" He opens a compartment in the cart and pulls out a flat-faced tool something like a large disc sander, plugs it in. With the ear protection in place, he switches it on, watching the Wyrms.

(OOC: To unprotected human ears, the sound would not be audible but it would induce discomfort, irritability, maybe even nausea. Don't know about the auditory characteristics of your species...)

****************************************

"Okay. The manuals and sims cover a lot of this. I'm just trying to give you the actual perspective from having flown them. Once you're supersonic, there's no anomalies in maneuvering, but remember that this is a fly by wire system and your avionics are actually doing the work. It's fatally easy to overcontrol. You do have considerable adjustability with your flight disk, the sims will help you find a setting that's natural for you."

The display switches to a closup of a gloved hand, the heel resting in the disk's slight depression, adjusting the disk laterally.

"That's your roll. Pitch..." The fingers press the front of the disk down, then the back, "...about what you'd expect. For yaw...." the fingers engage the slight depressions around the front end of the disk, and apply pressure.

"The disk is also your in-flight throttle, regulating the dual-cycle wave detonation sequence. It's got a three fail-safe system, but you can override either by voice or keypad, if your avionics are programmed to allow that."

The hand on the disk in the display pushes the whole disk forward slightly.

"The default is for the disk throttle to cut in automatically at mach 1.3, it'll give you plenty of warning, and you can program audible, visual, or both."

"The primary stage throttle is this bar..." the display switches to show a bar set laterally on the side of the left hand control panel, so that the pilot's hand can grasp it like a stick. "That's what gets you transsonic. Now the primary stage engine operation doesn't cut out, it escalates, what we call turnover, into the dual-wave detonation cycle."

"Sometimes if your fuel mix gets over-volatilized, the turnover can be choky and rough. Always run diagnostics if that happens, although most times it's temporary. Thrust density is basically a function of the magnitude of the wave expansion, which is hyperenabled, so don't ask for anything you're not prepared to get--- in abundance."

"In the air, this craft is pure joy. You can slide between the pages of a book without touching a letter, you can play tag with a sunbeam, you can outdance Bojangles." (OOC, she knows the cultural references are lost on the Wyrms, but its all she's got. Her tone conveys the general meaning.)

"Any questions, before I turn to mission ops controls?"

The Wyrms take a few steps back from the aircraft, just in case.
Zak'mar nods at Hilsigin.

[OOC: Nah, not susceptible to that sort of thing. In fact, they've got a lower hearing range; high-pitched whistles and such are inaudible, while some things you might consider subsonic are audible. Comes from underground living...]

********************

Kazarak grins.
"Morth will be envious. Go on."

Satisfied that the Wyrms are okay, Birgi moves the sonic sander slowly along the end of the wing. Nothing appears to happen. After a couple of passes, he turns it off and racks it, then pulls down a nozzle, flipping the switch. The hollow whoosh of a vacuum is loud in the big hangar, and as he passes it over the area he just worked on, the flexceram coating vanishes in granules up the vacuum nozzle, leaving the thermoluminum skin base gleaming nakedly in the bright work lights.

When no more granules are being sucked up, he turns the vacuum off, removes the ear protection, and turns back to the Wyrms.

"Okay, on t'e recoat, you use t'e wide nozzle, like t'is." He manipulates the end of the sprayer, and the nozzle comes off. He replaces it with a fine, broad-ended nozzle like a squeegee in shape, and again checks the indicator light on the flexceram tank. Still green. He uses the nozzle to spray the coating on the end of the wing, and deliberately recoats and recoats and recoats. Letting the nozzle retract, he waits for the glow in the last coat to fade.

"Now what we have here is an overcoat, which isn't too serious from a structural standpoint-- at least not if we did it evenly over t'e whole aircraft... but it will have two little problems. First, it will reduce aerodynamic efficiency-- not much, but t'ese guys are pretty precisely calculated, and small changes can have big impacts. Second... " he grins, puts the ear protection back on, and goes through the removal routine again. This time it does not go so well, requiring three separate passes with the sonic sander and three passess with the vacuum.

"...you make a lot more work for yourself."

He looks at the Wyrms to make sure they've gotten the point.

*********************************

"Oh, yes, they'll be envious." Jevith chuckles.

"Now, on mission operations. We're not transferring any armament, so I'll just point out that your canard mounts are for guns, and the wing mounts flip out to carry a healthy payload of whatever schrecklichkeit you want to haul. The turret cradle...."

The display shows a second cradle, apparently mounted slightly under and behind the pilot cradle, with a similar control panel at the end of each armrest.

"...is where most of your mission ops controls are. They can be slaved to the auxiliary panel in the cockpit, but you're going to be one very busy little otter, and you'll have to rely heavily on your avionics for flight control.

"Now that's not necessarily bad-- the Paes-9 is the best system I've ever worked with, and they've really got the bugs out of the voice control now. But I prefer to leave the mission work to a gunner and fly the plane, myself. However, that may not be an option for you. So.

The displays change again.

"Here are your recon ops. The left panel is your GenK probes. We're turning them over to you with the newest iteration in crypto software, so you should be able to use them effectively for awhile, but your geeks are going to have to start work on upgrades immediately. It's a constant race between the makers and the breakers, and we get a new release on this software about every few weeks.

"The probes themselves deploy from the fuselage at the base of the rear landing gear. As you can see..." (the display illustrates) "...they are essentially thin strips of polymer embedded with microreceptors. They're flexible and tough, and the anchor wire is caradium, but they do break off, especially if you're maneuvering too aggressively. They're on a roll, you have about 50 meters on each side, if you run out during a mission you're done, so be careful.

"However, the structure gives them a huge receptor profile and you can grab tons of data in a very small window. You can route the data to your onboard analysis, to your tactical control, or both. The display is on the turret heads-up, you can split the cockpit heads-up to use it if you want, or there is an option to install a side display. I don't recommend that. I've tried it, and it's a damn' nuisance to keep turning your head from angle to angle. The split display can be a little dense, but you get used to it.

"Now, your V.2 delta PTS is on the right-hand control panel, along with standard optical and infrared camera systems. The PTS will draw you a picture of whatever's been in range over a two-hour time horizon."

The display shows the heads-up picture, with a time tick and the V.2delta PTS identifier across the bottom. The display shows a three-d cube, with a bright blip in the center representing the Evader. Only one other aircraft blip is present, but an array of lines represents the tracks of craft that have passed within the cube's area. Tracks of numbers along each line reveal aircraft type, propulsion type, signal strength, estimated time of passage, etc.

"That's your detail display, or you can just use the text mode..." the display changes to a list showing the information on a text grid based on time.

"The max range is theoretically 3900 kilometers, but I've never run across atmospheric conditions that optimal. It's pretty reliable up to 3000 under most circumstances, though. And, of course, it's only really functional in the stratosphere. Tropospheric weather conditions play merry hell with it, and you're lucky to get anything reliable further than 500 km or ten minutes past.

"There's no conventional radar on these two craft, but the instrumentation and structure support that installation.

"Any questions on mission ops?"

Zak'mar eyes the fresh coat of flexceram.
"That's certainly true."

************************

"We could rig our own neural interfaces for the turret controls."
suggests Kazarak.
"That way, we can make a direct visual overlay from whatever the probes pick up. And, if the detection systems are as good as you say, we might even be able to rig the turret so it can track and fire automatically."

Hilgisin nods. "Je. Kut. Now t'is bird..." he slaps the "Mercat Mirkat" affectionately, "he's due for standard maintenance, including recoat. So you can take t'ese manuals..." He pulls a little sheaf of data chips from his pocket, and offers them to Zak'mar, "and look 'em over. T'is afternoon, you can do t'e structurals, me and one of my guys will help. T'en tomorrow, we'll do t'e engines."

"Engine manuals are on here, too, so you can get ahead a little if you want. Now..." he looks up. Someone has come in the hangar door-- another mechanic, a short, dark-skinned, slightly chubby young woman. She gives a thumbs-up to Hilgisin.

"Good. We got t'e eyeprint reader fixed. You leave eyeprints, t'en, and you can get into here whenever you want. Also... " he looks.

The young woman and another mechanic are pushing in some kind of contraption. It looks like a larger version of the platform the maintenance cart is mounted on, but it is about a meter and a half long, and perhaps 70 cm. wide. On the front is a stick control, with a smallish ring welded to it, and another, smaller lever. The plump mechanic pulls the lever and with a hiss the platform lifts half a meter or so off the floor of the hangar. She puts a finger in the ring, and starts walking the platform over to where Hilgisin is handing the data chips to Zak'mar.

************************************

Jevith nods. "There are a number of autotrack/fire preprogrammed subroutines you can activate in your mission program or add on the fly, and of course you can add your own, as well.

"The heads-up gives you three modes-- straight optical, which basically relies on your cameras...."

The display shows a view using the cameras, just as if the pilot were looking through a cockpit window.

"Straight data, which is your Paes-9's version of what's going on..."

The display switches to line representations with numerical and text scrolls interpreting the data.

"Or overlay, which gives you both."

The data display appears superimposed over the optical.

"Your sensory net is pretty rugged. But like just about everything else, there is a fail-safe. In an emergency, if your display cuts out, you can blow the flexceram coating your cockpit and turret."

The display shows a pilot's hand lifting a switch on the right-hand panel, and then switches to an exterior camera view. Suddenly a seam becomes visible around the two humped areas on the top surface of the fuselage, and as they watch, it becomes clear that the flexceram is bonded to some kind of flexible polymer base, which pulls back off the now-clear surface of the turret and cockpit, and then suddenly releases and flies off the screen, showing the pilot and gunner in their cradles, which have rotated slightly to afford them a clearer view.

"It's never happened that a display has cut out, and frankly I think if it did, the damage would be such that you'd be more worried about ejecting than having a look-see around, but the fail-safe is there."

She looks at the timetick on the bottom of the display screen. The briefing has been long.

"Okay, I'd probably better turn you over to Gems now, and see what he's got rigged so we can get you into sims as soon as possible. Oh, yes..." she fumbles in a uniform pocket. "You'll want the sim manuals to study, too." She offers the coppery pilot a couple of data chips.

Zak'mar reaches out with one of his packarms and takes the chips.
"Let's see..." he mutters, eyeing the chips. "Looks like a standard model. We should be able to read these." He tucks the chips into a compartment on the side of his pack.
He eyes the platform. "What's that?"

*****************************************

The coppery pilot takes the chips and investigates them carefully.
"Thiss chip, it is the first one, yes?"
The pilot tosses one of the chips over to Kazarak, storing the rest in a compartment.
Kazarak peers at the chip. "Yeah, looks like it."
He slides the chip into a slot in his pack, and gets up.
"Well, then. Where should we go now?"

Hilgisin looks at the platform, hits the lever that sends it back to the floor. "Looks good, Trinka," he says to the tech.

"Je, t'is..." he says to Zak'mar. "Work platform for you. Don't know how much t'ose extensors of yours extend, but t'is make it easy for you to see what you're doing, je? Climb on, I show you."

***************************

"Hang on a minute, I'll see if Gems has something ready for you." She pulls her comunit from a uniform pocket. "NULLBAR Comm; Miglach Gems, Jevith Brokentree."

"I'm done with the initial briefing. You want the Wyrm pilots now?"

"We're in A-4, TR-3."

She slides the unit back into her pocket. "He'll be sending someone over to pick you up. Ummm... do you guys need a lunch break or anything? Human metabolism functions optimally on three meals a day, and I'm going to go grab some lunch. If you need to eat, you better let Gems know. He's the type who works for sixty hours straight without a break, then collapses and wonders why. And sometimes he forgets that other people might need to eat."

Zak'mar walks onto the platform and pulls the lever experimentally.

**************

Kazarak shakes his head. "Nah, I ate this morning."
He gets up and starts walking slowly towards the door, the other pilot following suit a moment later.

The with a hiss, the platform rises slowly (OOC: I'm assuming he pulled it all the way) to a height of about 170 cm., so that Zak'mar is at eye level with Hilgisin. At this height it is easy to see over the outer end of the wing surface, or even to move from the platform to the wing, if the platform were close enough.

"Kut. Got enough lift on it, t'en. T'is," he gestures to the joystick-type control with the ring welded onto the end, "you use to move it around. Forward, back, turn either way, just move t'e stick, see?"

*****************************

Jevith looks a little bemusedly after the two pilots, then shrugs, and shuts down the lectern and display.

As the Wyrm pilots approach the door, it opens and a short, dark-haired young woman enters. She sees the Wyrms and stops in her tracks, looking at them curiously for a moment, then remembers herself and nods respectfully. "Are you Kazarak?"

[OOC: After doing some measurements on a pile of dirt outside, I have concluded that 6' is too small for a average Wyrm size. It makes sense that the pilots would be small-it's an advantage when fitting into human-built aircraft. But from now on, assume the average Wyrm to be approximately 8' 5" (4' 5" body and head, 4' tail)]

Zak'mar crouches down as the platform elevates itself.
He glances over the side at the ground-bound Wyrms.
"Sso...this is the control, then?"
His voice sounds even more mechanical and hisses the Ss slightly.
"Well, here goess..."
He pulls the control backwards, slightly.
As he moves away from Hilsigin, he releases the control and drifts to a stop.
[OOC: I assume it handles like a hovercraft.]
He then pulls the small lever gently until he's about half as high.
"Nice." he says, somewhat calmer. "How stable is this thing?"
He throws his weight to one side, testing its balance.

------------------------------------------------------

Kazarak nods. "Yes. Can't you-" He stops, suddenly. "Ah, I had forgotten how alike we look to you. But I'm fairly distinctive."
He gestures to the gold symbol inlaid above his eye, using one of his packarms.
"I've got this, plus, I'm the smallest Steelfang here."

(OOC: Gotcha. Assume appropriate sizes on previously described items, then, if relevant. Noted for future. Yes, platform moves like a hovercraft, it's a modified maglev field/aircushion combo system. The maglev component works on the earth's electromagnetic field, so it's not rail-dependent, but it's not very responsive yet, either, so the aircushion keeps it nimble. Newish technology, about 20 years in Effrenata, based on older maglev and traditional aircushion systems. Has lots of limits, but pretty good within them.)

The platform remains quite stable, although it rebounds a centimeter or two when the weight shifts. Hilgisin nods in satisfaction. "Kut. T'is is a modification of cargo-moving flatbeds, but we soup it up a bit so it gets enough lift to reach good working height. Won't move too fast, cargo units designed not to, prevents accidents."

He turns back to the tech. "OK, Trinka. Tell t'guys to get t'flexceram tanks topped up. Wyrms will do strip and recoat t'is afternoon, t'en we refit all gaskets, hinges, you know t' drill. Get all t'stuff ready, you can come back and help."

"Sure thing, Hilgi." The tech glances curiously at the Wyrms, and goes back to the door.

**********************************

The young woman shakes her head. "No, not at all. Mig describe you most accurately; I was just checking. You're the first Wyrm I've met. I'm Lyad Silvertine, by the way. You can call me Lyad. I'm Mig's partner." She looks at the symbol. "Interesting. What does it mean? May I ask?"

As she talks, she stands aside for the Wyrms to pass out the door.

Zak'mar watches the tech leave for a moment, then turns back to the controls. "So, we should get eyeprints next, right?"
He glides past Hilsigin and parks the platform next to the tool rack, with a bit of difficulty.

"You ffly that thing, Zak'mar." comments one of the black Wyrms. "I'll sstay down here, if it'ss all the ssame to you."
He turns to the other black Wyrm. "Come on, let'ss go."
They turn and start walking towards the door.
Zak'mar hesitates a moment, then follows them.

******************************

"Nah, you can ask."
Kazarak and the coppery pilot walk through the door, waiting a moment to let Lyad follow.
"It shows that I've been certified as a mage, specializing primarily in Earth, and secondarily in Air. Unfortunately, there's hardly any magic around here, and I'm not sure that what I've got will work."

As he follows Lyad down the corridor, a panel pops open on his pack, revealing a pair of crystals, about five inches long and a inch in diameter.
One of the crystals is yellow, and the other is green.

"And what I've got is only enough for a few small things. I can't move mountains."

The technician Trinka was fiddling with the eyeprint reader. They had detached the lens, spliced a longer piece of fiberoptic cable to it, and threaded the cable through a chunk of flexible conduit. A makeshift but servicable collar held the conduit to the panel.

As the Wyrms emerged, she adjusted the cable so that the actual reader was at a comfortable height for them. "That should work. You don't need keypad codes, so the print alone will admit you. There's always a trooper stationed here, so if anyone has used the reader and adjusted it up, they'll help you adjust it back down."

She watched the Wyrms curiously. "Did you guys get those, um... vintage aircraft, flying?" There was a kind of respectful amazement in her voice, mixed with a touch of bafflement.

*********************************

Lyad chuckled. "Oh, boy. Do me a favor, please, Kazarak, and don't tell Mig about this until you're ready to leave? He's already hip-deep in theoretical extrapolations of non-material sciences, and I'm sure you noticed he can be a little, um... distractable... when something catches his interest. This will just send him jittabing. Are there also mages in Water and Fire?"

As she talked, she led the Wyrms out of building A-4 by a different door, and across a large quadrangle that formed the junction of the base's largest permanent structures. They headed for the largest of these, a four-story structure capped by a peculiar-looking object that resembled a geodesic dome shrinkwrapped in some kind of pale-green polymer.

Zak'mar peers into the eyeprint reader. "Yeah. I wish we didn't have to keep those things going, but the government air-force always gets that kind of junk dumped on it."
He pulls his eye away from the reader, and one of the black Wyrms comes over and starts getting his eyeprint read.

"I don't think that P-51's going to last much longer, though." he continues. "Last week the engine died while it was taking off. And I had just fixed it the morning before."

**********************************

"A few in Water, hardly any in Fire." answers Kazarak. "We don't have much use for Fire."
He grimaces. "And then there's wizards."
"What's that?" asks the coppery pilot, gesturing at the dome with a packarm.

Kazarak squints at the dome. "No idea. If I got a closer look... This should work."
A patch of air in front of Kazarak's left eye flickers and thickens into a pair of lenses, which he peers through.
"No idea."
There's a muffled snap, and the lenses disappear.

"Wow. Takes some tinkering, I'll bet," Trinka comments. "You know, the Devagas militia," she gestures toward her own uniform, which is different than the trooper at the door's, "has Effrenata's most advanced air forces, so most of our stuff is pretty sophisticated-- and expensive. But I know some of the other Militia have surpluses of older model transports, amphibs, hovers, fighters, recons, and stuff. Maybe you guys should check 'em out."

She watches as all the Wyrms register eyeprints, the sensor briefly glowing bright blue to signify each print is registered. "Okay, you're all set. I think Birgi was planning to break for lunch, so if you guys want to bone up on the manuals and meet us back here in an hour or so, the recoat stuff should be ready by then."

*********************************

Lyad watched in fascination, hoping that Kazarak could remember to restrain himself around Miglach Gems. She could already see the engineer's eyes glowing with that intensity that means hours and weeks of driven, intense effort down some fascinating side-path. She looked up at the dome.

"Ah. Security. That's a security thing. C'mon, we go in here," she leads them to a door, using an eyeprint and security code on the keypad for entrance. "This is the main lab facility."

They have to use an elevator, which takes them down, and down, to unsuspected depths below the building. When they emerge, another eyeprint, another security code. Down more corridors. Finally, a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, instead of walls, showing on the other side arrays of equipment, work stations, technicians. Finally, halfway down the corridor, she deposits yet another eyeprint, and the polyglas door slides aside.

This room is huge, high-ceilinged-- it would be echoingly vast if it weren't crowded with massive equipment, including three of the big spherical simulators. At a control panel near the furthest one, Miglach Gems is engaged in adjustments, a panel open and a jumble of circuit conduits hanging out like confetti. At the sound of their approach, he turns.

Ah, Kazarak! Welcome. Oh, good, you both came! Now forgive me," he says to the coppery pilot, "I don't think I caught your name. I'm Miglach Gems, the technical rep from Tranest."

[OOC: One thing; when one of the Wyrms talks, English words are said via the speaker, while their own language is spoken via their mouths.]

"Sounds good." agrees Zak'mar. "We'll be back at our transport."
He starts off towards the transport's hangar, the two black mechanics trailing behind.

************************

"Kaharka Copperclaw." answers the coppery pilot, in its somewhat blurred voice. "I'mm afraid I'm not too good with English."

Kazarak nods. "That's why I've been doing most of the talking."
He looks around at the equipment. "Impressive. Reminds me of the KASS factory."
He turns back to Gems. "So, what do we do first?"

Trinka goes back into the hangar. She waves to the techs who are slowly maneuvering in a pair of large flexceram tanks on rollaround stands, with nonstandard fittings cobbled together to allow the Wyrms to use thier pack arms in manipulating the nozzles. "Where's Birgi?" she asks one.

"Chow." he answers briefly, adjusting a connection to the main tank conditioning lines.

"Mm. Sounds good, I'm gonna grab some too. The, um, Wyrms have eyeprint access now, so they'll be back in an hour or so, I guess."

**************************************

Gems smiles. "Well, none of us is any good at all with Wyrm, so we appreciate you making the effort. First will be a couple of lumascans."

He leads them over to a flat table, about 7 feet long and 3 feet wide, with a translucent, glassy surface. At the touch of a foot control, it descends from a height of about 120 cm. to about 65 cm. "If one of you could just climb on here?"

Lyad is busy about a large, polyglas semi-circular tube that is positioned on a track over the table. "Mig, I think the extra RLs will give us what we need." She makes a final adjustment, then goes over to a control panel with a large, flat surface attached to it at right angles, like a shelf. As she pushes a few buttons, an amorphous glow of light appears, hovering above the shelflike surface. "OK, ready."

[OOC: Does this mean I've got to give a anatomical description? I'll describe the oddities, at least:

First, Wyrms have two windpipes. The first windpipe runs from the nostrils to the back of the lungs, and the second from the front of the lungs to the throat. They've got valves in both, allowing them to inhale through one and exhale through the other.

Second, they have a large fluid sac inside the base of the neck, holding about two pints. It's connected to a sprayer in the back of the throat.

Third is the aforementioned metallic skeleton and scales. Kazarak's is composed of a primarily iron, rust-resistant alloy, with a layer of black enamel on top of the scales (not the claws and teeth, though). It's not completely metal; most of the larger bones are calcium with a metal core.]

Kazarak eyes the glowing surface uncertainly. "Okayy..."
He clambers up onto the table, taking up most of it, while Kaharka watches from a safe distance.

[OOC: thx]

Using the foot control, Gems raised the table back to its working height of 120 cm. With a practiced gesture, he reaches behind himself, to the control panel he was workin on, and yanks one of the conduits casually.

Silently, the half-circle descends to just above the table, and begins to glow. Starting at the tail end, it moves slowly (about 15 cm. a minute) along the length of the table, and Kazarak. As it moves, a figure begins to take shape on the glowing shelf in front of Lyad's panel. The further the half-hoop moves, the more of it they can see. It is a holographic, three-dimensional, multicolored rendering of the Wyrm.

At this size it is difficult to distinguish detail, but each of the essential muscular and skeletal systems appears in a different color. The overall effect is of a rainbow-sparkling Wyrm-shape, slowly materializing on the shelf.

When the scan appears complete, Lyad holds up her hand for a moment, making an adjustment, then nods to Gems. "Got it."

"Excellent! Thank you, Kazarak." The engineer lowers the table.

As the watch, the rainbow-sparkling 'Kazarak' on the shelf begins to move, walking forward, then back. Because it is an accurate representation of the musculoskeletal system of the Wyrm, it moves with complete naturalness. As they watch, another hologram appears. It looks vaguely like a sling, approximately the length of 'Kazarak.' The light-Wyrm moves along the shelf, and climbs onto the 'sling,' which supports it firmly, while providing rests for the back legs, and freedom of movement for the front.

"Ha. I was right." Lyad looks up at Gems with a smug gleam.

"I never disputed it, my dear. Very good. But that's as far as we've gotten for now." He turns to the Wyrms. "Kaharka? If you would be so kind?" He gestures to the table.

[OOC: Kaharka's skeleton is lightweight, corrosion-resistant copper alloy. (of course)]

Kazarak drops off the table and examines the hologram.
"Interesting... I-" (barely perceptible pause) "I've never seen anything like it."

Kaharka clambers onto the emscan table.

"So, now that we've done this, what should we do?" continues Kazarak. "I've got some socket adapters to try on the flight computers..."

With the lumascans completed and filed, Gems considers Kazarak's suggestion.

"Lyad, perhaps you can assist Kazarak to establish a hookup to the MK-1, while Kaharka and I do the physical parameter tests on the modified cradle and control mockups?"

He gestures toward another panel atop some cases. This is a stand-alone clone of the basic flight systems computer, used for R&D. It is not hooked into the base's network, but is linked on a ring to a number of R&D and training units.

At the yank of another conduit, a gullwing door opens in the nearest simulator, and at the same time two lower-hemisphere panels retract, revealing an odd, patched-together looking array. Nearby, a standard pilot's cradle (which had obviously been removed from the simulator,) is leaned casually against a wall.

"Good enough," says Lyad. "Kazarak, we've got three different port systems you can try." She pulls a panel cover off one of the cases.

Kazarak considers the computer critically.
"Let's see. 8-pin fiber-optic should work."
He pulls a cable from a compartment in his pack, and considers it critically.
"Shkak! It's the wrong shape."
He glances over to make sure Gems isn't looking, then glares at the connector.

The connector shimmers and flows, redistributing itself into the proper shape.

"That'll work."
Kazarak sets the cable on top of the computer.
"Now for software. I've got some basic input drivers, but they're probably not compatible with whatever OS you use. Any suggestions?"

Kaharka peers curiously into the simulator's interior.

(OOC: woops, edited...)

Lyad catches the glace at Gems, and gives Kazarak a wink, watching in fascination as he alters the connector.

"hmmm... bound to be differences, but we have an analysis/translation algorithm... it's an update of the Venntar system. If we can get that connector to work, let's let it see what it can do in TX mode, and I'll see if I can't get a self-starting patch to load onto your system so it can process our data."

She pops a panel cover and rearranges some conduits, casually yanking out some that connect to ports. "Let's see which one of these will work."


Meanwhile, Gems pulls a control rod, and what looked like an amorphous hunk of cable, polymesh, and framework members turns over in the simulator. Now it can be seen as a real-life version, crudely mocked-up but apparently functional, of the modified pilot cradle that the had held the lumasim Wyrms in the post-scan test.

"Kaharka, I based this more or less on Kazarak's dimensions... at least the guesses I was able to extrapolate from the film I took-- but it should work for you, too. If you..."

He moves into the simulator, ducking his head to avoid the edge of the door, and pushes the cradle slightly to a more favorable angle.

"..if you can just try settling yourself in this... back feet here, this will support them and give you a little leverage for movement. Your tail can either rest on the support, like this, or fold under... we'll have to rig something to keep it from accidentally intersecting with the circuitry for the eject mechanisms here," he says thoughtfully.

[OOC: Er, what's the bit about the computer, Effrenata? I was referring to the Wyrms' neck sockets. And that cable wasn't even plugged into the computer...]

(Note edits)

Kazarak eyes the exposed ports. "Yes, I was right. This'll fit."
He jacks the narrow connector into one of the ports, and unrolls the rest of the two-foot cable.
He pops a panel open on his pack and plugs the wide, two-inch connector on the other end into the resulting hole.
"Alright. Now, should I send anything down this line?" he asks.

****************

Kaharka clambers onto the cradle and tries to arrange itself comfortably.
"A little sshort..." it mutters. "Sshould have exphected that, I supposse."

Lyad nods. "Let's see if we can establish a protocol. Go ahead and send something."

Gems notes the size discrepancy. "I think another half-meter will rectify that problem, Kaharka. We'll run up another iteration, and you'll be more comfortable tomorrow. For now, though, if you're not too uncomfortable, could we go through the basic kinetics? You'll note the primary control devices have been altered to include wells for claws, with recessed contact points, rather than raised buttons, which could easily fault due to slippage."

"Also, we've altered the grasp-style stick controls to ring-style. Again, we're hoping for ease of manipulation with claws. Now, can we check out those assumptions, and see if things are in easy reach? I'll be filming this so we can get the kinetics to add to the projections, then we should be able to do most of our design off the virtual Wyrms, while you and Kazarak get started on the computer learning."

When he gets down to business, Gems doesn't lose an iota of his pleasant manner, but he is almost frighteningly focused, and it is easy to see why he needs an assistant to remind him to eat and sleep.

[OOC: Er, what is "ring-style"?]

Kazarak mutters under his breath.
"Hrmm. FTP? HTTP? Nah, something more basic... ICMP."
He fires a ICMP PING down the cable.

**********************

Kaharka eyes the controls uneasily. "It's not what I'm ussed to..."
She reaches out and tilts the disc gently, testing the pitch, yaw, roll, and throttle axes. "Good enough. I won't be ussing it much, anyway."
She tries the subsonic throttle, then the rest of the primary controls. "It'll do."

Kaharka glances toward Gems. "I'd like something to hold onto when I'm ussing direct control, though." She gestures towards the space under the cradle. "A metal bar with some rubber padding would do fine."

[OOC: 'Ring-style' would be as described for the hoverplatform the mechanics were using-- a ring welded to a joysitck-style rod, easily grasped and manipulated by a hooked device. This is actual technology in current use for people requiring modifications to auto controls, etc., because they use prostheses.)

Lyad looks up. "I can tell you're sending, but I'm getting packet drop error messages. Shall I try a trace route?"


Gems nods. "Along the longitudinal axis the whole length of the cradle? Or a lateral axis by the back leg slings?" He is making adjustments to his camera as he speaks. "That was good... could you try accessing each control area again, in turn?"

[OOC: Thanks. Are all the buttons replaced by wells? I'll assume that at least the firing controls are...]

Kazarak nods. "Sure."

**********************

Kaharka shakes her head. "Lateral, in front."

She obediently starts running through the controls again, this time more slowly.
"I don't really need the ring on thiss throttle." she says, moving it back and forth. "It's thick enough for me to grip ssecurely without it."

She tests the firing controls. "Pretty good, though I'd like a firing control like the one on my Ssongbird."

After a couple of tries, Lyad says, "OK, try that ping again, I think we've got it." She fires a rapid command down the line and a projection screen appears above the console.

(OOC: Yes, all the controls except those that are ring-style are recessed into wells.)

Gems nods. "We can make the ring optional. As far as the firing controls go, we can try to duplicate them if I can get a bite cast. You mind?"

He moves over to a table where a couple of cases are lying open, and pulls out a square of dental wax about 15 cm per side, and about 4 cm thick.

[OOC: Sorry about the short post, kinda busy ATM...]

Kazarak fires another ICMP PING down the cable.

*****************

Kaharka eyes the wax uncertainly. "I'll give it a try."

(Reference: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2802313#2802313)

As Gems and Lyad were working with the Wyrms on the physical modifications, the lighting in the lab at Kertebren suddenly flashed blue three times, quickly, and several insistent sounds came from the various network terminals.

Gems and Lyad both turned immediately to their Cboxes.

"Oh, for the love of...." Gems muttered in irritation, while Lyad angrily punched keys.

"Apologies, Kaharka, Kazarak. For some reason, we've gone to ALERT2 status. We'll have to ask you to return to your transports." The annoyance in Lyad's voice was palpable. "Now, of all times. Don't worry, it's probably just a drill. Been a while since we've had one. They'll stand us down in about 45 minutes, perhaps an hour."

As Lyad spoke, both Tranest employees were shutting down equipment, checking their Cboxes, and opening the doors for the Wyrms, as they prepared to scramble to their ALERT2 status.

Base Commander Velkin Naragar was already in communication with the Wyrm transports, informing them of the ALERT2 status, and requesting that they ensure all Wyrm personnel were secure in their aircraft.

[OOC: Heh, you're not the only one with other events interfering with this RP...]

The two Wyrms immediately headed for the elevator, and started toward the surface.

***************

Zak'mar's voice crackled across the comm channel.
"We're all in the transport, except for Kazarak and Kaharka, who I assume are coming up here."

As the Wyrms leave the main base lab facility, the air is rent with shrieks and booms as the base's ready wing takes off. Everyone is busy, everyone seems to know exactly what they're doing, even the trooper in the uniform of the Remlahauti Militia who throws the two Wyrms a salute and says, "Trooper Kremdi. I'm detailed to escort you to your transport. I'll also be available in case you need anything while the alert lasts."

Naragar is in communication with the CMFN CommandNet, and when the "Stand Down" is passed, he alerts the Wyrm transport that normal activity can resume.

As he breaks the connection, a thoughtful look crosses his face. The issue of teasers has occasionally been mooted in CommandNet circles, but so far it hasn't been urgent enough to really claim much attention.

If today's incident proves to be a teaser, he might just have an idea to put up to the CN.

He looks out the window to the hangar where they Wyrm aircraft are snugly parked.

The transport's door is in its usual half-open state. Most of the Wyrms are nowhere to be seen, but the two black mechanics are messing with Kazarak's P-51, discussing the problem in their own language.

"Okay, I guess it's not the injectors. Try starting it again."
The airplane's propeller revolves fitfully a few times before spinning to a stop.
"Aha. It's the sparkers. They're not firing. I'll try igniting it manually... hit the starter again."
The propeller clanked and started spinning again.

The Wyrm on the ground braced himself, opened his jaws, and hissed.
Mist glittered in the air for a moment, then there was the snap of a spark and it burst into flame, which rushed into the engine's intake.

As the Wyrm cut off the flame and closed his jaws, the engine sputtered, flamed, and caught.
"Yeah, it was the sparkers. Shut it off and let's replace them."

Birgi Hilgisin slides through the door of the Wyrms' hangar and stands there a moment, looking around for Zak'mar. His lunch was rudely interrupted by the alert, but he managed to absorb a largish quantity of herring anyway.

"Je, you guys... Zak'mar around? T'alert's all over. We can get back to work."

********************************

At about the same time, Naragar 'officially' informs the transport that the alert is over and everyone can resume their activities. Lyad and Gems have returned to the lab, and Trooper Kremdi is waiting politely to escort the Wyrm pilots.

Zak'mar poked his head through the transport's door. "Ah. It's over?"
Kazarak and Kaharka pop out of the door and head back towards the lab with Kremdi.

**************

Zak'mar grins. "I guess it is. Rakka, Akkar, get over here! We need to head back to the hangar!"

One of the black mechanics untangles itself from the P-51's engine, while the other drops out of the cockpit.
They both head off after Zak'mar, who has already started toward the Frenzies' hangar.

"I was checking the news while I was in there." says Zak'mar, as they head off toward the hangar. "Someone's crashed a pair of spacecraft off our northeastern border... really strange. Not that much that's happening lately isn't." he adds, as an afterthought.

"Someone's crashed a pair of spacecraft off our northeastern border... really strange. Not that much that's happening lately isn't."

Hilgisin nodded. "Je, isn't t'at right. Alert was damn' strange... some space ship just making toward us and t'en heading off again. We don't do much business wit' spacegoing folks. T'at may change, who knows."

When they arrive at the hangar, the tanks of flexceram are already in place and three of the large-scale spray nozzles have been adapted for the Wyrms.

"OK, let's see how you guys do. Whole thing, now. You got it easy, don't have to replace markings, je?"

**********************************

Gems and Lyad are already in the lab and it's clear that they're having a somewhat heated discussion about something.

"You should have brought it to my attention, Lyad. It could have considerable implications for how our project here progresses!"

Lyad shook her head stubbornly. "Time enough for that when we're farther along, Mig. I don't want to go haring off on tangents now."

They stop as they see Kazarak and Karharka approaching, and Gems (still shaking his head) moves over to a table where a variety of odd, complex assemblies are laid out. He gestures to Kaharka to join him. Lyad returns to the computer console. "Kazarak, I think we had it, just before that triple-polluted alert interrupted us. Try accessing a main menu."

Zak'mar inspects the sprayers and selects one. "Okay, let's get started."
He clambers onto the work platform and lifts up to wing height, then drifts over to the wing. The two black Wyrms follow.

Zak'mar starts on the wingtip, stripping and recoating a patch. "Easy enough..."

****************

Kazarak walks back over to the computer and plugs the cable back into his pack. "Okay..." He attempts to connect to the computer, experimentally.

Kaharka examines the assemblies on the table. "What are thesse for?"

Birgi and one of his crew hang around as the Wyrms recoat the Frenzy, offering a helpful tip here and there:

"Try turning the nozzle 90 degrees when you're doing the main joints. Gives you more control over the flow."

"Oh, t'ats right, you got to uncouple t'elevons and do t'em separate."

"Nose area can take a heavier coating, give it an extra going-over."

They watch as the Wyrms complete the first coat. "Okay, give it a half-hour or so to set." says Birgi. "You guys look over t'e engine manuals? Got any questions?"

**********************************************

Kazarak's connection this time brings up a Main Menu screen:


PAES-9 FLIGHT SYSTEMS
Systems Simulator 4.3

SELECT
*Avionics Tutorial
*System specification setup
*Subsonic systems
*Supersonic systems
*Programmed simulations
*Interface management setup

Gems lowers the worktable with a foot control. "These are a variety of arming and activating triggers. Your pilot safety systems require a two-stage control; I was hoping we could experiment with these and find the ones that are egonomically right for you. The arming trigger should be relatively easy, but also something that can be recessed or swiveled out of the way once you're in flight. The activating trigger is more of a challenge. We want it easy, but not so easy it can be accidental, if you see what I mean?

Zak'mar descends to the ground and clambers off the platform.
"We looked them over, but we may have missed something."

*************

"Mouse input... lesse... aha. That works." mutters Kazarak, quietly.
"'Interface management setup.' That sounds like what I need. Let's see..."

*************

Kaharka nods. "Sso... what'ss thiss, then?"
She gestures to one of the triggers.

Birgi nods. "Je. We let you take one apart, put it back together. Strin? Bring t'unit here."

The shorter tech goes to the back of the hanger where a number of large combo carts (wheel/hoverlift) are parked against a wall, and brings one forward. On it is a full-size, unmounted Delan 87 sigma engine, with dummy intake lines. It's a large surface, plenty of room to disassemble the engine, which is not actually structurally complicated--although the individual components are highly refined in function and design. The cluster of five detonation tubes is longer and more slender than a turbojet, and constructed of the same caradium alloy in Frenzy's frame. Each tube has a two-stage ignition nozzle, with the narrower second stage including a rotating inner core to accelerate the deposition rate to detonation level. The rear of the bundle includes an inverted conical deflection baffle.

Each intake line links to a dual-chambered aerosol dispersion regulator, at the junction to the detonation tube.

**************************************

Kazarak's access of the Interface management setup submenu produces:

Avionics Systems Integration Interfaces

SELECT

Reconnaissance
Amsys K-Series probes
Kedran-Tanes optical systems
Amsys RK optical systems
Tranest burst receivers
Other
Weaponry
Square series configuration
Hexagon series configuration
Appolyon 9
Nonstandard
Communications/Processing
Venntar Interregional
Devagali/Hurneyu
Tranest
Amsys 9-11.3
Amsys 12.0 and higher
Other
Other Interface Systems
Search database
Enter specifications



"Ah!" Gems smiles. "That's a little idea of my own. Are your claws retractable?" he asks Kaharka.

Zak'mar looks over the engine. "Well, let's get started..."
He removes the claw from one of his packarms and replaces it with the drill-chuck device.

Zak'mar tries several different sizes of screwdriver bits before finally finding one that works.

********************

Kazarak blinks. "You'll have to help me with this. These settings don't make much sense."

Kaharka shakes her head. "I can't. Kazarak might be able to... I don't know."

Kazarak's head snaps up, and he glares at Kaharka.

Zak'mar looks over the engine. "Well, let's get started..."
He removes the claw from one of his packarms and replaces it with the drill-chuck device.

Zak'mar tries several different sizes of screwdriver bits before finally finding one that works.

********************

Kazarak blinks. "You'll have to help me with this. These settings don't make much sense."

Kaharka shakes her head. "I can't. Kazarak might be able to... I don't know."

Kazarak's head snaps up, and he glares at Kaharka.

Hilgisin watches silently as the Wyrm mechanic works. He'll answer questions if asked, but they have to have a chance to tinker with the engine on their own. Birgi is a devout believer in the educational value of tinkering.

******************************

Lyad looks down at her display, currently slaved to Kazarak's interface. "That's the menu for setting up the interfaces between your avionics systems and other onboard systems. The main choices are the most commonly equipped systems, but you can also design your own interface based on a nonstandard system if needed. The Sim AI will walk you through the process or you can just do it on your own."

She cants her head slightly. "What are you trying to do?" she asks, as his head snaps up.

Gems blinks mildly at Kazarak's reaction. "Ah. Then this particular system probably isn't a good choice. Let's look at this one, which involves applying pressure to three recessed buttons simultaneously." He watches his screen. "Give it a try, and let's see if the sensitivity and the response time are within the appropriate parameters."

"There's a lot of electronics in here."
Zak'mar gently pulls a bundle of wiring out of the way. "How many timing and software adjustments will we have to do to keep this thing running?"

****************

Kazarak calms down a bit. "Well, the actual controls'll be complicated, so let's start with something simpler. We've got some Rippers in the transport; I'm not about to fly anything so expensive if it can't defend itself." He selects "Weaponry: Nonstandard" from the list.

Kaharka tries the control. "Thiss'll do for arming, but I'd prefer something ssimpler for a firing trigger. We won't have to worry too much about accidentss. It's not like I'll bump the trigger with my elbow; only my clawss fit in that well."

"Software's stable, only adjust if one of the tell-t'ree-times nodes becomes corrupted. Timing, you test going out and coming in, adjust as needed, and re-tune at every overhaul. Average now is retime about t'ree tubes per bird, per trip. T'e deposition rate has to be exact or you get tubes not reaching det on time, lose efficiency." Birgi watches the Wyrm's movements, nodding from time to time.

**********************************

When Kazarek makes his selection, another screen comes up:

Nonstandard interface
Tranest PAES AI Interface Builder
Enter coding environment

"You can let the AI analyze your Rippers and attempt to construct an interface, or you can hand-code using a standar CG protocol," Lyad observes.

"Well, try this plate then," Gems offers Kaharka. "It can be mounted almost anywhere, but to use it you have to push until it engages the connection behind. You should feel a little 'clunk'."

Kazarak nods. "I see. The computer would have to have a Ripper to work with, right? I'll get one of the mechanics to bring one down."

Kaharka presses the plate gently down until she feels it engage the mechanism, then releases it. "I don't see how thiss iss any more secure than a plain trigger or a bite-control, like the one on my Ssongbird."

***********

One of the black Wyrms, who had been watching Zak'mar disassemble the engine, looked up suddenly. He stared off into space for a moment, then turned to Zak'mar. "Kazarak wantss me to bring one of the Ripperss to him. Can I usse the ssled?"

Zak'mar nods, inadveredently knocking something with his head. "Shkak! Ah, yes. That's fine. Go do it." He returns to the engine, muttering under his breath as he makes sure what he just knocked is still OK.

The black Wyrm sets the sled to hover about a foot above the ground, then grasps the control handle with a packarm and sets off towards the transport, towing the sled behind him.

**************

A few minutes after towing the sled on board the transport, the Wyrm comes out towing the sled.

The sled is now carrying a gun which can be immediately recognized as the same type as the Songbird's guns. With more of it exposed, the gun looks even stranger, with a large, blocky battery and fat, cylindrical magazine attached to the stubby, flattened barrel.

The black Wyrm towed the sled and gun off towards the lab building.

[OOC: Hello? You there, Effrenata?]

(OOC: Sorry. Out of town for a couple of days.)

Lyad nods. "You can bring one here, and have the AI design an interface. Enter your own password and encryption code for security. Since this unit is a stand-alone micro-network, I'm authorized to give you source access for deleting any data you store, when you leave."

She regards the display for a moment. "It looks to me as though you have a working interface. If you like, we can patch this into your transport and you can run the still-sims a couple of times on your own, once the weapons interface is online. By that time, Mig and I should have the mods complete on the physical unit." She gestures to the big sphere.


Gems raises a quizzical brow. "Ah. I was assuming that you would have the weapons bite control engaged at any time during the flight. The ergonomics of making two bite controls immediately available, and accessible in the amount of time required, might be problematic. So far..." he checks a display where the lumascan data is being analyzed, "it looks as though your reaction time gives us a reasonable plus/minus on emergency response of .8 to 1.6 seconds. Given the physical configuration of the control array, would it be possible for you to disengage the firing bite control, locate, acquire, and engage the emergency trigger bite control in that amount of time?"

*********************************

Birgi waves one of his techs to escort the Wyrm with the sled, and continues to watch Zak'mar. The trickiest part of the engine overhaul is the testing to ensure that the pneumatic gaskets allowing the inner core to reach ultraspeed revolutions are pressurized correctly throughout the length of the tubes. While the gauges are digital, an addtional analog needle gives a mimic of the core's suspension equilibrium--the key to clean rotation. The art of fine-tuning involves getting both the digital and analog readings into the optimax range.

Pulling a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles from the breast pocket of his coverall, he perches them on his nose and leans to the side a bit to get a better angle for viewing the gauge readouts.

Kazarak nods. "Rakka should be here with the Ripper any moment now."

Kaharka blinks. "Could you run that passt me again, pleasse? I couldn't make any sensse of it. Ssurely I've only got one trigger?"

Just then, Rakka arrives into the lab, towing the sled. "Okay, what sshould I do with thiss?"

*******************

Zak'mar attempts to adjust the pressure. He seems to be paying more attention to the digital gauges than the analog one, and is having trouble getting it to line up just right.

Zak'mar looks at the gauges and adjusts the pressure again. "What am I doing wrong?"

Lyad and Gems both turn, as the Wyrm mechanic with the sled enters, and Gems waves to Lyad to manage it, turning back to Kaharka.

"Hmmm... I'm not sure what you mean. Are you saying that one bite trigger can control several functions, Kaharka?" he asks, with a touch of eager curiousity.

Lyad slants a brow at him briefly before gesturing to Rakka. "Over here, please. If you can connect the firing interface to one of these cables...?" She pulls a handful of spaghetti-like cables, each with a different connector, from the console.

*************************************

"Here." Birgi's finger comes to rest on the needle-gauge. "T'is have to be 'tween .3 and, maybe, .55, max. Else your pressure will start to fluctuate, like t'at. Watch t'gauge while you adjust. We machine 'em pretty precise, but even wit' micro-tolerances, t'ere's variations at ultraspeeds. So each tube has a 'fingerprint'-- combo of pressure and suspension equilibrium works best for it. Find t'at and you're in t'e groove, je?"

By this time, he's forgotten that he's talking to a reptiloid non-human. Mechanics, in Birgi's simple scheme of things, are mechanics. Zak'mar just might be able to look after one of his precious birds, after all, so now he's a mechanic.

Rakka nods, and selects a connector from the array. "Thiss one'll do."
Kazarak interrupts him. "Just a moment, Rakka. Is this thing loaded?"
Rakka nods.

Kazarak turns to Lyad. "I've got to unload this. It could do some damage if it fired in here."

He flips the top of the cylindrical magazine open and extracts a metal disc, about two inches across. "This is the ammunition. It looks pretty benign, but watch."

Kazarak drags the disc along the floor, leaving a deep scratch. "These things are really sharp. I've seen one of them go through three inches of layered steel plate. And that was without a charge."

Rakka drops a box onto the floor. He had pulled it from a nearby shelf. "Put them in here. We can't have them rolling around loose."

Kazarak nods and tosses the disc into the box. He then unclips the magazine, dumping it into the box.

******************

Kaharka grins. "Two functionss. I bite for one, and for the ssecond I do thiss."
She opens her jaws so that her longest front teeth are about a half-inch apart, and a spark jumps between one pair.

******************

Zak'mar nods and tweaks the pressure slowly, this time keeping an eye on the gauge. ".60, .2, .3, .4... That's good, right?"

Lyad grins, looking curiously at the gun and ammunition. "Gee, thanks. Wouldn't want any accidents in here. Okay, see if our AI can talk to it."

Interesting weapons. She looks into the box curiously, but doesn't touch the disks. Might be worthwhile to see if they'd leave a sample for Gems to paw over. He was getting positively moony over the Wyrms' physiology and technology. Heck, come to think of it, she was getting fairly fascinated herself. 'Wonder if they could use a little consulting work,' she thinks to herself, then checks the display to see if the hookup is up and running yet.


Looking at Kaharka's jawful of formidable teeth, Gems doesn't even flinch. By this time he's too interested in what he's seeing. "However did you do that?" he asks. "Do you store the electrical energy in your bodies somehow?" He's thinking of electric eels.

***********************************

"Je!" Birgi confirms. "T'at's the right combo for t'at one. Now try t'next one. Probably just a little different. T'ey're almost human, I swear, t'ese engines. You treat 'em nice, learn what t'ey like, t'ey'll do somersaults for you. Rub 'em t'e wrong way, you'll never stop having trouble."

As Rakka jacks the connector into the Ripper's input, Kazarak selects "Traenest PAES AI Interface Builder" from the menu.

**********

Kaharka nods. "Got it in one. It'ss not too useful by itsself. There'ss not enough current to really harm anything large, but it'ss not all."
She grins, again.
"I've got a ssprayer in the back of my throat. It can sspray a fine misst of alcohol and hydrocarbons. It'ss rather flammable..."

**********

Zak'mar nods. "Some of our aircraft are even more that way..."
He starts on the next tube. "There's one in particular that absolutely refuses to be serviced by anyone who isn't a Ironscale."

The screen clears briefly, then shows:
Tranest PAES AI Interface Builder

Assessment module active

A 'gas gauge' under the lettering shows the progress of the 'assessment module', and 'fills' in a few seconds. Then the screen is replaced by:

Variable-rate projectile firing protocols?
()Y
()N


Lyad hopes that the Wyrms are not sufficiently sophisticated in human sociology to recognize the expression on Gems' face, which resembles nothing so much as an adolescent in the throes of first love.

"Really...." he murmurs. "So you can ignite the mist with the sparking mechanism?" If Kaharka were human, Lyad thinks, Gems might be asking her for a date... Not that the old coot would ever think of such a thing, but he's practically swooning with delight. "And how much pneumo-hydraulic pressure can be exerted? What kind of range are we talking about?"

***************************

Birgi nods understandingly. Machines are like that, and you just have to be a mechanic to really experience it. He doesn't think of it as magic, but then, he doesn't really think of it at all. He just does it. He watches Zak'mar adjust the remaining tubes.

"Okay, now you have to re-install, and test t'ignition interfaces and t'e intake connections." He gestures to the engine housing, which one of his techs has opened, and disconnected the intake lines and ignition feed sensors. "Try it on t'at one."

Kazarak selects "Y", and watches Gems and Kaharka with interest.

***************

Kaharka narrows her eyes in concentration. "Let me ssee... in your meassurementss... about three feet? For me, at leasst. Kazarak can probably get more range than I could."

***************

"You talking about Elara? She's got a nasty temper." comments the remaining black Wyrm, as Zak'mar inspects the connectors.
Zak'mar nods, plugging the first sensor cable into place. "Yeah. She's amazing. I offended her once, and she cursed at me for nearly three minutes straight."

The 'gas gauge' appears again, with the information

Constructing protocols

After a moment, that vanishes, and the AI asks:

Protocol series designation?

____________________________________


Lyad, watching Gems with half a grin, clears her throat gently, and waggles a finger at the trigger samples.

"hhhhhmph... Yes, of course. Really fascinating, Kaharka... thank you. Most interesting. Well. I suppose we could add a modification to the bite control--are you using a quick double bite for anything, currently?"

Clearly, he would prefer to continue satisfying his curiosity with an exploration of Wyrm physiology, but just as clearly, there is a job to do. With a pensive look, he picks up the bite-trigger analogue, and manipulates it to see if the switch is sufficiently responsive for the modification.

**********************************
(OOC--are they chatting in English?)

Birgi watches Zak'mar connect the sensors, and turns on the testing gauge. The type of chatter is familiar to him--a kind of half-attentive, half-mechanical discourse that just keeps the team members attuned to one another while they are working. But he has no idea who "Elara" might be.

[OOC: Yeah, English. It's a sort of reflex; there's a human around, they speak English.]

Kazarak thinks for a moment, then enters "TDG Ripper (Fire, two-inch)"

*************

Kaharka shakes her head. "Nothing ussess that at the moment. What were you planning to usse it for?"

***********

The black Wyrm examines the gauge, still talking. "Gods, what did you do to her?"
Zak'mar starts connecting up one of the fuel lines. "I was fixing one of her engines, and I hooked up one of her propellers backwards."
"How'd you do that? No, you turn it to the right."

Zak'mar blinks, looks at the fuel line, and starts turning it the right way. "That was how. I was talking, and not really paying attention."

[OOC: Arrgh, double post.]

The AI tells Kazarak:
Designation Assigned:
TDG Ripper (Fire, two-inch)

Enter specifications for up to five protocols by rate/duration/intensity
Specify manual/automatic

____________________________

____________________________

____________________________

____________________________

____________________________


Gems looks puzzled. "Well, for your survival trigger. We'll use a standard arming lever, but the activating trigger has to be something you can use from any status. You can set any conditional states or other protocols yourself, of course. But the trigger has to be something you can use effectively."

*****************************

Birgi is intrigued at the idea of a bird 'cursing' at her mechanics, but puts it down to some peculiarity of the language circuits in their speech devices. He's about to intervene when Zak'mar's colleague corrects him. Good. They are an effective team.


He clears his throat. "Good idea right here, between t' intake lines and ignition feed sensors, run a check on your volatilization module." He points to the globular connector that the connects all the separate intake lines to the master line. "T'e mix has to reach t'e ignition feed at 42% volatilization, plus-minus t'ree percent. If you're not getting efficient volatilization, you'll have to re-test t'e ignition feed sensors anyway."

Kazarak blinks. "Lyad, could you help me with this? I understand the bit about specifications, but what does it mean by 'manual/automatic'?"

*************************

Kaharka nods. "I ssee. A double bite sshould work fine."

*************************

Zak'mar eyes the module. "Another bit of electronics to go wrong. Even the Pheonix isn't this complicated. Where's the diagnostic equipment?"

The other mechanic pulls the correct cable over to the module and connects it, scanning the display slowly. "Looks OK... You've worked on the Pheonix?"

Zak'mar nods as he comes around to look at the display. "Yeah. The thing's a mess. Half of the components weren't designed to fit in there, and the rest is held together with wire and sloppy welds. It's a wonder the thing still flies."

The other mechanic nods, scrolling through the diagnostic data. "Oh, but it can fly. I've sseen it. You could outfly anything in that. And it's not exactly normal. I think that it's Woken, but it's just keeping quiet."

“Manual/automatic? It’s asking whether you want fire control for each protocol to be entirely dependent on the pilot’s manual initiation, or whether you want the PAES to fire automatically whenever whatever conditions you specify occur. You can also rig auto repeats by specifying ‘Manual with auto repeat.’ It’s handy when you’re flying without a gunner, I understand from the pilots. If you switch to ‘full combat’ mode, the PAES will initiate fire as dictated by the conditions. You can do quite a bit of fine-tuning with it. It’s a moderately bright little AI.”

As they talked, a couple of techs came in bearing a large, lumpy, object wrapped in translucent plastic. They take it to the simulator and unwrapp it; it’s the newly-fabricated replacement for the jury-rigged cradle that Gems had installed earlier. The new cradle is based on measurements extrapolated from the lumascan and designed to accommodate the Wyrm pilots ergonomically, with adjustable length and configurations for the control linkages.

“Ah, excellent!” Gems helps them unwrap the plastic. “Here you go, Kaharka… climb onto this and see how it feels.”

The techs leave it on the floor and turn to taking out the jury-rigged unit.


Birgi’s ears prick a little at the Wyrm’s assertion that “you could outfly anything” in the Phoenix. He was supremely confident that the Evaders would fly rings around anything in the Wyrms’ current airfleet, but he restrained himself from saying so. It didn’t seem necessary. They’d discover that for themselves.

He watched the testing of the volatilization module, and showed them the micro-adjustments that changed the mix rates. “T’at’s good, je. Okay, now t’ignition feed sensors give you a good reading.” He points to the tiny sensor ring on the feed units on each cylinder. “You get ignition when t’cycle jacks deposition rate up to 1.4, maybe 1.5, t’en revs initiate. Tubes fire in clockwise order.”

He leans back, but then thinks of something. “What’s difference between “normal” bird and “Woken” bird?”

Kazarak nods. "I see. I'll go with 'Manual' for now. I'm sure I can change it later."

He selects "Manual", and enters four fire types.

Full speed, full charge. (120 RPM, 20 TU)
Full speed, half charge. (120 RPM, 10 TU)
Full speed, no charge. (120 RPM, 0 TU)
Conserve ammo (60 RPM, 10 TU)

*******************

Kaharka clambers onto the cradle, and fiddles with the length adjustment. "Perfect."

*******************

Zak'mar pauses work for a moment. "It happens to our aircraft sometimes. Magic does strange things to sufficiently complex machines. It happens to our ships quite a lot, but fighters seem somewhat immune."

He starts checking the ignition feeds while he talks. "A Woken aircraft is the closest thing we have to a true AI. It can fly itself, though they still prefer having pilots, and they're at least as intelligent as we are. As far as I know we've only got two."
"Three." corrects the black Wyrm. "Wind Dancer, Elara, and t-the Pheonix."
"Why do you think the Pheonix is Woken, anyway?"
"Common ssensse. That thing wass unmanageable."

Zak'mar blinks. "That can't be. Morth flies it like..."
"I ssaid wass. Now it issn't, and I can't think of any other reason for it to have changed."

(OOC: TU would be thermal units(?))

The screen changes to:

Protocol series construction/identification

with a gas gauge underneath it.

Lyad is watching lines of code scroll by so fast normal eyes can't perceive them, and normal memory would be unable to comprehend them. However, she is a savant with an odd capability to scan and comprehend at high-speed, and her eidetic memory is one of the qualifications that makes her especially valuable to Gems.


Gems grins, pleased. "Excellent. We'll install this one in here in the sim unit for now, and you and Kazarak can begin running sims. We'll fab another tonight, and tomorrow we can install them in the Evaders."

*****************************
Birgi tries to parse this one out. Magic? Ships making their own AIs? He thinks about a couple of birds he's known, and it doesn't sound so crazy. He nods, slowly, as he watches the Wyrms check the ignition feeds.

"OK, t'en you run control diagnostics. Jack in here..." he climbs onto the wing, and indicates a port on the left hand control panel. "And run standard diagnostics protocol. PAES-9 will tell you if anything looks out of line."

[OOC: Wrote a big long post, hit "Submit" and it didn't turn up. Will post tomorrow.]

Kazarak jerks in shock and yanks the cable from his pack. "Shkak."

****************

Kaharka nods, and clambers back out of the sling. "What now?"

****************

Zak'mar looks up at the diagnostic panel. "Hriss. We've got a problem. I can't reach that from here, Rakka borrowed the sled, and if I climb up on the wing I might scratch the flexceram."

With a blink, Lyad refocuses. "Kazarak? What happened? Are you all right?" Her hand hovers over the "abort process" button.


Gems says, "Give us a few minutes to install this cradle, and you can get to work on the flight sims, Kaharka." With a gesture to a couple of technicians, he bends to lift the cradle and set it in place of the makeshift unit. At the sound of Kazarak's exclamation he, too, turns, glancing from the Wyrm to Lyad. "What is it?"

*********************************

Birgi shakes his head. "Coating's dry now. Just a minute." He gestures to one of the other technicians. "Bring dropper, willya, Nygal?" The tech nods, and rummages in a locker, hauling out a rather peculiar looking tarp. Together they unfold it over the wing, with the shiny side down.

"Okay, now you're all right. T'e bottom of t'e dropper is trinbond, you can't go t'rough it wit' a carbo-titanium blade."

Kazarak shakes his head. "I'm OK. Just got a bit of a shock. I wasn't expecting all of that data. I would have been fine if I knew it was coming."

*************************

Zak'mar examines the tarp with interest. "Interesting. Can you use it for bulletproofing, or is it only resistant to cutting damage?"

He stands up on his hind legs, bracing himself with his tail so he can grab the wing's edge.

Zak'mar hauls himself up, then examines the portion of the tarp he had grabbed. "Interesting. Not even a scratch. I wonder if you could cut it with a Sharpened blade..."

He shakes his head. "Well, back to buisness. Hand me that diagnostic cable, Rakka."

[OOC: Hello?]

[OOC: Please don't tell me this is dead...]

[OOC: Right. This is dead, and I am technically gravedigging. However I wish to preserve it because it is A. one of my favorite although extremely outdated threads and B. I have plans (tm)]