Log:The Shadpwport: Movin' Right Along Pt 2
Things have gone a little pear shaped...
OOC Date: September 9, 2021 (Optional)
Location: Majestic Pandemonium
Participants: Eriu Jynx as GM and herself, B'haav Adasta, Khalim, Netep Muri
When last we left our hero....thats being to gracious.
When last we left the dysfunctional members of Shadowport there was a bit of a problem. The hyperdrive had shifted in its containment and caused and overload through the system that forced back up power on and other systems to begin failing due to the continual feedback. In an attempt to get their listless ship moving, B'haav's BB unit managed to cause another problem. Artificial gravity was lost and now the group in peril is doing so with no footing!
The Duchess hits the crash couch after the momentum shifts her across the open air thanks to Khalim who has managed to pry off a panel so he can get to overloaded wiring which is currently arcing and likely to cause fire damage or possibly more system failures. Question is...can he deal with it. Eriu has no mechanical or technician expertise but she can see that what he has revealed is going to be a problem.
A big problem.
"Uhhhh I think maybe you need to shut that down?" She's helpful. She uses the blast couch to carefully drag herself towards the command chair so she can use the intercom and relay information to everyone. Its a bit of a gap between the end of the seating unit she is on an dthe central flight controls. She eyes it, eyes herself, eyes the couch and once more takes in the distance. Finally she grunts, pushing herself off the end of the couch and aims herself for the chair.
Its not exactly graceful but she makes it, slamming into the seat and wrapping her arms around it so she can slide down in and strap herself into place.
<"Muri? B'haav? You guys okay back there? We lost gravity...we got a fix?" She is watching the system failure warnings on her screen as she reaches out to start the SOS they may very well need.
Back in engineering the hyperdrive unit is nearly back in alignment and Muri has managed to shut down the system in flux on her hand. Not on Khalim's. Its a matter of slowly restoring systems after everything is contained. It will be a matter of locating a few spare parts somewhere in the room. Certainly Yan and Eriu have those right?"
"Happy hunting," Netep offers as B'haav goes shoving off to search. In one of the flashes of WARNING WARNING red, she catches a tiny sparkle in the fringe of her vision and realizes that it's a droplet. Four. Five. Tiny beads of sweat that were habitually wiped from brow are now free floating about. Was she that nervous?
A glance back to the wire splicing job completed says yeah...rightfully so.
<"Y'know, I /thought/ somethin' was a little weird with the G's..."> Sarcasm, even slightly modulated over commlink, Muri's snark translates through. <"We're fine. Just gotta do a little more rearranging and freshen up what's toasty is all..."> A grunt, then, as she unclips self and gives a little kick-off for that generator that B'haav ID's as culprit. <"Should be a qui--ffffrink"> Muri's one hand misses the frame with its outstretched fingers and she shoulder-tackles the bulkhead instead.
BOING
Now adrift the other way, writhing weightlessly in attempts to regain better positioning rather than the parallel-to-floor sprawl she's spun into. Like a cat falling in slow motion....sideways.
B'haav Adasta
Steel-grey eyes scan engineering, seeking the most likely location for spare parts in a - frankly - suboptimal organization paradigm. If anything, B'haav is making mental notes to come back to the Majestic just to organize and tidy. Yan could probably threaten to put a hole in him, but it's not like he'd be FIRED since he's not actually a crewman... Right? The Balosar's thoughts wander a little, but in the end the train of thought is arrested by a sighting. A bin - A BIN - off to the side, some spare parts already coming out. While he doesn't do a lot of his own maintenance, he knows enough to spot replacement fuses, some relay dampeners and a few other key things that he may or may not know as 'repulsor-makers'... He's a psychologist, not a mechanic. "Muri, there are spare parts making their way loose over yonder!" Yonder? "I'm going to see if I can confine things. Do you know what we're most needing right now?"
White-knuckle'd grip affords him the time needed to properly orient himself. B'haav places shiny shoes on the steel wall behind him and pushes off, aimed squarely for the bin. The Balosar catches it with hands outstretched, momentum in zero-G leading him to rotate up and past in a now-handstand orientation while looking up (or down, depending on your viewing angle) at the parts below (above. Okay, enough of that) in the bin. "There's a lot of... Everything in here." He hopes.
Steel-grey eyes scan engineering, seeking the most likely location for spare parts in a - frankly - suboptimal organization paradigm. If anything, B'haav is making mental notes to come back to the Majestic just to organize and tidy. Yan could probably threaten to put a hole in him, but it's not like he'd be FIRED since he's not actually a crewman... Right? The Balosar's thoughts wander a little, but in the end the train of thought is arrested by a sighting. A bin - A BIN - off to the side, some spare parts already coming out. While he doesn't do a lot of his own maintenance, he knows enough to spot replacement fuses, some relay dampeners and a few other key things that he may or may not know as 'repulsor-makers'... He's a psychologist, not a mechanic. "Muri, there are spare parts making their way loose over yonder!" Yonder? "I'm going to see if I can confine things. Do you know what we're most needing right now?"
White-knuckle'd grip affords him the time needed to properly orient himself. B'haav places shiny shoes on the steel wall behind him and pushes off, aimed squarely for the bin. The Balosar catches it with hands outstretched, momentum in zero-G leading him to rotate up and past in a now-handstand orientation while looking up (or down, depending on your viewing angle) at the parts below (above. Okay, enough of that) in the bin. "There's a lot of... Everything in here." He hopes.
Zero-G emergencies aren't just /enhanced/ in danger, they're multiplicative in many ways, everything becoming a potential inflection point into new dimensions of disaster. An arcing, open electrical panel a foot away becomes not just /A/ problem, it becomes the nexus of so many additional problems just waiting to happen.
As Khalim quickly learns, as he looks from it to an identical panel a meter away and grows one of those insta-plans that seems like it might be a good idea... until it isn't. He attempts to kick off, gently, but ends up in a slow spiral rather than a latteral drift. Foot and newly released hand are dangerously close to entering that still-arcing panel and the Mirialan tries an in-flight correction, managing to get it half-right but, unfortunately, in a Zero-G emergency half right is often fully wrong.
He now floats slowly upwards, spiral mitigated but no longer in enough control to assert any further changes in momentum. In fact he no longer has physical contact with the bulkhead at all, that open panel slowly receding below as he nears the ceiling. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to propel himself back down again once he has that nearing springboard to work with.
He remains generally quiet during the entirety of this slow-motion aerial display, minus a couple of grunted expletives.
From the corner of her eye, Eriu notes Khalim slowly spinning into her peripheral view. Her head turns and she forestalls her response to Muri as she continues to talk so she can stare at the Mirialan. Her gaze narrows upon him as she huhs and tilts her head up until she hear's Muri say FRINK!
Little does she know that Muri herself is having a similar problem to the Mirialan on the bridge.
<"You still well over there?" she calls out to Muri through the comm. She keeps the line open to engineering which is not all that far away but this is easier than yelling. <"Look there should be some ..things..back there."> She's entirely TOO helpful. <"SO far we are in the clear for other system failures so it seems but that's never a guarantee."> She quiets and then hesitates as she glances again at Khalim. "Do I need to get a net?" She does't realize its broadcast for those in engineering to hear as well. <"What are you doing? Having a dance break?">
"Well, if--" Eriu's voice over the intercom says there are no other system failures, so Muri bobs her head, hair swaying like a well-groomed topiary in catastrophic-force winds. "Okay, good, that's settled. /Seems/ that gravidic generator's our only problem." Other than Muri's apparent inability to reorient herself with anything grab-able, of course. "So if the surge backfired far enough up the chain TO that generator, we're going to need a new power coupling. If it stopped short of that...those will do." She floats on by then, one finger pointing at coils of wire, links of conduit through which to thread. "Can bypass anymore cooked bits with that, other'n the one I already spliced. Also, that bit there, the...the ehm...blueish coil." Aw, shavit, she drifts beyond sight of the bin, botches her rebound off the opposing bulkhead and is angled a bit too UP. Or is it down? Up. The ceiling's found with an elbow. "Maybe. Connects the hyperdrive motivator to the actual unit - engine - might be what was wonky with its calibration in the first place. Wasn't giving the computer the feedback it needed."
B'haav watches Muri working upside down and wonders how she does it - before remembering that his feet are pointing at the ceiling. Relative position in Zero Gravity is rather hard to ignore... Hands continue to grip the edge of the bin as B'haav pulls himself up (down. Okay, that's the last one) toward the bin while pressing his back against the wall. "That should do it..." The Balosar hopes it will, anyway. His hat bumps his shoulder as he turns to look through the contents of the bin and begins floating in the middle of the other parts, baring those barely-seen antennapalps for all of Engineering. Hopefully no one is scandalized. He begins sorting through some of the parts - those in the air, and also those more firmly wedged into the bin, which he can free with some difficulty to pull above the brim of the bin for Muri's perusal.
"I wish I had a net," B'haav muses as he seeks out hyperdrive components and anything that looks vageuly electrical. Power will likely be necessary to get the gravity online, right? Muri eyes some of the wire and a blue-hued coil on her floating way past, and B'haav - seeing no other option at present - takes up his hat and loads the mentioned pieces-parts into it. "Got them. Anything else on your wishlist? There are heavier parts in the bottom. If you want me to carry anything like that, zero gravity is the perfect time." He looks down (up) towards Muri. "That would certainly let some overdrive throw things out, now that I'm thinking about it. You think it's just hardward communications?" He holds the hat out in her direction, if she has the control to take it. That's the question.
"A dance break?" Khalim's slow-motion spin has him angled roughly in Eriu's direction, and that dark brown gaze matches with her glance. Whatever arm and leg movements he may have been expressing in that failed attempt to balance himself become something else. A mimed nightclub 2-step, that somehow manages to look PRETTY DARN GOOD even in the absence of a club, music, or even gravity. And what is that coming from the far end of the compartment... could it be a feint UNCE UNCE UNCE, in a familiar timbre?
And just like that, his spin takes him back around, butt shifting to left and right - UNCE UNCE UNCE - arms and legs displaying a lessened but still very much there rhythm, until...
A foot feels a ceiling panel, just as a hand again touches upon the cold metal of the bulkhead. And he pushes... quiet again as he glides - guides by hand on neighboring metal wall - directly to that neighboring bulkhead.
"Dance breaks are serious business, Eriu," he says, as he sizes up the panel and then begins fiddling with it. It's a different panel, more quick-entry than its bolted neighbor. It should be able to slide on rails, popping out, but it simply /doesn't/. Something bars it's slide-to-removal, and the Mirialan begins jamming it, harder and harder, and yet to no avail. "Kriff." SLAM. Obstructed. "This." SLAMMMM. Obstructed. "Panel." SLAMMMMMMMM. And it breaks free! Floats away. And reveals the most godawful patch job yet seen on the ship.
Is that a bag of chips left behind the last time the panel had been opened? Khalim plucks it out, tossing it sort of backwards. "Got that net? There's a snack headed your way if so."
Uncertain as of yet what to disconnect, and from where, he takes a moment to simply examine the panel's interior. "Conduit, where are you," he murmurs. "Eriu, if I get shocked and die, just know that I only blame you like, half. Only half. Don't take all the responsibility."
"Only half? Why at all? I can give you the contact of technician if you like," she cries back. Eriu lets out a huff in his direction as she hears the conversation going on back and forth between Muri and B'haav. "Don't get shocked." she says to him. "And put that backend away."
She keys into the intercom and realizes its been on. Clearing her throat she says, <"Sounds like you two have things in hand but I just wanted to let you know I am getting some warnings on the backup. Some surges are messing with the charge that is left and its...well we do not have a ton of time...if that helps."> No it does not.
She glances over at Khalim who is quickly working on his end of things. "That power may be for the lift, we don't need that right?" They can get stuck in engineering right? RIGHT?!
She clears her throat. <"So team, I'd say we have about twenty minutes before we really are in trouble. I sent out a distress signal.">
- Thunk*
Muri executes a half somersault along the ceiling but not on purpose. "Well...if we run the bypass and nothing changes, we'll know there's more to the equation here." She gathers her feet beneath her and pushes off, reaching for hat. Swimming. SWIMMING for the hat. "Gotta start the troubleshooting somewhere." At long last the tips of her fingers touch it. The brim of the hat is hers.
Unfortunately, the hat brim is not a magical STOP button and the rest of Muri soon arrives on scene, clunks into B'haav, whereupon she curls around the hat into a Muriball(tm) to prevent the precious bits from spilling out. "Sorry!" chirps forth and she's pushing off again, bumbling the train along to that generator. <"Y'know what helps to buy time?"> Muri thumbs her commlink while throwing a wink to B'haav, knowing she's about to get the Duchess's groat. <"Plants.">
Hee
With that joke-notreallyajoke out of the way, Netep puts on her grownup brain and gets to work with one of the gadgets on toolbelt. Voltmeter. Tap...tap...tap...searching for signs of life, or not. When the dead weight's singled out, she wraps pieces of tape around to mark the outer margin for bypass. "From here....to the box. We get this back online, we quiet some alarms and can worry more about the hyperdrive. And BAV."
B'haav looks around for a convenient comm panel but - not seeing one - opts to do the unexpected... The psychologist yells up from Engineering. "Heard and understood!" He looks to Muri as she goes for the hat and completely interlopes into his personal space. Narrowly, despite their warring orientations, B'haav's head pulls back and his palps are safe from the collision. In the end, he is mugged of the hat and Muri has been sent on the way to her destination. The Balosar pushes off to follow, but his shiny, shiny shoe slips and the push-off is more of a nudge-off. Slowly... VERY slowly, he drifts with motivation towards where Muri's going to work.
"With him offline... This is all on you. I know a little, but... I don't trust my hands with all of your lives. If I can hand you tools, or... Something... Consider me your assistant." B'haav seems to B'avoid the thought of BB-AV's present state.
There's a look back at the perceived injury in Eriu's response. "Eriussa, it was a joke," he says, hand now on the newly opened panel's border, as he turns just a bit more, and says with a touch more emphasis, "Of course I don't blame you." A quirked smile is offered, and as he's turning back to continue examining the horrific patch-job he adds, "The lift? We shouldn't need it if it goes out. There's got to be a crew ladder, and that's climbable with or without gravity."
And then it's that mess of wiring, a HORRIBLE patch job around what appear to be animal bites. There's even a tuft of singed hair left behind that, to be honest, Khalim is uncertain what it's more likely to belong to, a long-dead womprat or Yan.
"Think I see the problem," he calls back to the Hapan, as a hand is reached in and... ZZZZAP. "Kriff," he grunts, as an arc travel past his finger but does not catch him. More gingerly he reaches to a point where heavy electrical conduit is coupled, fortunately with a quick-disconnect collar. He turns it, twists it, and slowly it aligns into disconnect configuration. And...
There's a moment where light background electrical sounds become silence. That first panel's arc quiets, as power has been cut. Khalim shifts back and, with the help of the assortment of tools still hovering within reach, that damaged original conduit is jury-rigged into something approximating a functional field repair.
"That's not going to last forever, but it might get us somewhere with, you know, gravity. And oxygen. And dinner." That second panel's quick-release conduit connector is twisted back into place.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand...
No arc? Hopefully no arc.
"Oh yeah? Easy to blame the one in charge or who has ownership," Eriu remarks, salty still but simmering slowly as Bav's yell rings out from the comm unit in front of her. <"I can here you B'haav. No need to shout. Really no one was dressed for this. Though we will look damn fine if we die like this."> Helpful. Always helpful.
"Then shut it down, lets cut that lift off and we will see what we can do. I will let you know if what you do is successful."
Outside the large viewport Eriu looks up and blinks a few times. Slowly she snakes her arms out of the restraints of her seat and leans forward, grasping the console. "What is that?"
She tries to get a better look as something begins to grow bigger and bigger and soon so do her eyes. "Uhhh we have bigger problems. We are drifting into an asteroid field!" What did she just say about yelling?
"Less than twenty minutes, we may have ten if we are lucky!"
She glances aside towards Khalim just as the ship suddenly shakes as it collides with smaller debris pieces of ...another ship. Holding onto the console Eriu is flung forward into the viewport with at thunk as she ows and grasps at the open air.
<"Hey, Duchess,"> Muri's back on the com after throwing a B'haav a pained look of don't remind me. <"Y'know there are more more fun ways t'pass time in null gravity than life support repair..."> She lets a few heartbeats pass, <"Two things cross my mind."> Sounds of soft sniggering continues down there in the engineering bay as Muri goes about performing a risky bypass that's a little LESS risky now that something on the front end of things has been realigned. "Number One..." she attaches a ground clamp before making the cuts and wields a shameless grin. "Bo--OH!" the shudder of ship is felt under her hands and then under her face as she headbutts the generator box. DANGER! She'd be adrift again, if B'haav weren't there to play anchor. He IS there, right? Muri keeps hold of what she's got, which presently are the two ends of future bypass.
<"The hell you all.."> Oh, asteroids, faaaaaaaaaaaantastic! "Okay, dammit. Time fer a little luck'o the Muri, B'haav, you got some good gamblin' karma to add to the mix here?"
B'haav flushes about twelve ways to Satunda as he had succumbed to panic and forgotten about the open intercom channel. "Sorry," he chokes as he wraps a hand into something metallic and grip-like. Probably won't get him killed. Maybe. He watches Muri work, and antagonize without even being in the room, but his focus is entirely on the work of her hands. The ship's shimmy and shake almost sends their hope for salvation floating off and a quick hand grabs at her shoulder and pulls from metal-grip to mechanic-grip to keep her in place. Is that sweat on his forehad? Yep. And not all of it is from exertion. His eyes go massively askew as Muri asks for his gambling karma.
"Muri, I think we all would like to outlive this day... So I think it best we leave my gamblers' luck WELL off the table. You and your skills? They will be enough to bring us through this. Assuming someone is at the wheel." That is a tall order in the current gravity though. He renews his grip, making certain to hold everyone in place until the job is done.
The static Khalim receives back, from Eriu rather than the newly humming pair of open engineering panels, leaves him more or less unperturbed. Still holding on to a panel edge, he regards his handiwork. He's physically motionless for a long moment, until that announcement of the newest danger added to their emergency space bingo cards.
Asteroids.
Floating, the Mirialan doesn't feel that impact in the same way Eriu does, but the sudden jolt nearly breaks his finger-grip, but he manages to JUST hold. Either the pair further below would be able to get power to the main drive or they wouldn't.
Khalim pushes off, knowing he really has one shot to get this right. The Mirialan's internal compass is compromised by the lack of gravity, though, and he ends up in a skewed, spiraling trajectory that for a moment seems hopeless, until... an unlikely meeting of foot and the blast couch passing beneath. Khalim catches it's arm, and somehow manages to anchor himself, pull himself in just a few inches, like a collasping strut, and then... push... just right...
Directly towards the co-pilot's station at the Hapan's right.
It's a less dramatic meeting of that chair, and he's slipping over it, pulling himself down and strapping himself in. A quick glance in Eriu's direction has him asking, "Are you alright?" Followed by a hard stare out the fore viewport. Shapes. Shadows. Asteroids. It is not a predicament any pilot every hopes to experience... adrift, powerless, in the maw of a crushing maze of massive space rocks.
Khalim flips a couple of switches, backup power providing some control surface functionality, if not actual motive power. "I'm moving control over here," he says, matter-of-factly.
Khalim is a distraction for Eriu and whe he asks if the thump has not done her in she turns, missing the grasp she had and the sound of her fingers squeaking over the duraglass sound out. "I will be fine!" It is sharp irritation and perhaps just a healthy dose of fear that makes her snippy.
She whirls about and with her foot touching down, she pushes off and towards the chair just as Khalim begins to switch over control. "I can pilot but I am glad you are the one we can all blame if we die." Grasping the head rest she pulls herself down into the seat and gets one arm in the strap before securing herself. This dress is most deifnitely not made for this sort of recreation.
Once in, she glances aside at Khalim, giving him a long look. "I trust in you."
<"Hey you two, we are coming in faster than I thought, how are we doing?"
In the back the pieces are fitting together and successful sounds as well as victory music should be playing but Muri is seeing green signals left and right with her quick work and the added benefit of having a B'haav anchor. <"We really need power now...back to the engines if nothing else first."> They just continue to drift closer, another dull thud sounding in the bridge as they slam into something that looks far too like a frozen body.
"Aren't you feelin' full of faith then. Singin' a prayer to the four sisters, are we?" And Muri begins humming one of her own. The new conduit is threaded through with wires and spliced into place without further fuss. It's about as uneventful as it gets. Until it works!
<"Gravity first, then engines, just hold tight! Turnin' gravigen back on in three...two..."> She slips a bit, overcompensates by tightening her grip, and that accidentally
- CRANK*
She went on 'two'. That's one less BAD THINGS alarm to fire off in the cockpit and all at once, people, tools, everything has a weight. With a 'thud' Muri drops to the floor, striking knees first, and leaves B'haav to fend for his own mass while she half crawls, half hobbles back to that cramped little space she'd formerly been in when shutting off power to engines in the first place. <"Sublight engines activated!!"> In case they can't see that already in the pit. <"GO!"> And Muri holds onto somethin. Not tightly enough. She topples away from that control panel as clumsily as she'd stumbled in and lands on her bum. Could be worse.
B'haav's grip-hand is cramping a little with the fervor of his clinging to... Well, he's pretty-sure it's a casing. Without a manual to study, his extrapolation on the ACTUAL parts of a ship and not just the theory is sadly limited. Yet another failing he needs to work out, no doubt. So far, though, Muri has been more than enough to address the mechanical complications, and... Well, he's doing his best for morale boosting. <"I think it's safe to withhold this, but... Just in case... I want you all to know that I have never been a part of any group that I have believed in more than the Shadowport. If-"> That's as far as the Balosar gets when Muri makes her final adjustments and counts them all back into gravity. Said gravity comes back and he's dropped neatly back on his shiny, shiny shoes. Death-grip no longer aptly named, he releases the engine compartment casing and withdraws the other from mid-air where Muri's shoulder had been only a few moments before. Steel-grey eyes look to Muri's mad dash for a grip, and in instinctive panic he lunges for the first thing he can think of.
Half-wedged into the cupboard where BB-AV had been stowed, B'haav holds to the frame and just hopes. Eyes shut tight, it's all he can do.
[Khalim]]
Silence from the Mirialan, though he glances not once, but twice, hard, at the Hapan as she snaps, and settles back into the pilot's blast chair. It looks as if he may be about to say something, mouth actually opening when there's that /feeling/ of artificial gravity. Clangs from behind mark the fall of tools, bolts, and other sundry items that had been dislodged to float free. It brings Khalim's attention immediately back to the control surfaces now surrounding him.
Lights begin to flicker. Then flash. Some soon hold steady, reds and greens populating status boards. From deep within the ship a thrum is at first felt, and then heard, as the drive core's hypermatter reactor reawakens, fueled by the massive energies of those exotic particles captured within.
Complementing the sudden rush of air from the ship's life support recirculators, an increasing ion scream from the ship's sublight drives surge to life. A scream because Khalim is already pressing them into service, far before they've fully power-cycled, and the sublight drive protests with an ugly chorus of noise. It's off-kilter, a rasp of trapped ions desperate for release, if before their time.
And the ship, it begins to move. A dodge, as the Majestic Pandemonium curves around a rock that comes out of nowhere. And then another. As the drives retain more and more power the maneuvers become harder, more forceful, and probably far less comfortable for those still down below.
"Hold on," the Mirialan grunts, as he begins throwing the transport into maneuvers unwise at nearly any time, angle, or speed. Except now. This is a qualifying emergency, and Khalim brings every ounce of his ability as a pilot into the present. They either live to tell the tale, or will soon be permanently domiciled upon the side of one of these rocks.
Fortunately for everyone aboard, Khalim can fly. And sometimes very well. And today is one of those days. They'll all hear of it, in whatever bar they end up in next.
