Prison Pit
- Characters
- Prison Library
- Logs 1
- Logs 2
- Jailbreak
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Deep Space, 1008/Spinward Marches, 11:46 shipboard time, 211/1107
 DM Note: Just Alice and Manx again this week. In order to prevent the DM having to play with himself, the players also (largely) controlled the bridge crew during the first contac. |
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Alice and Manx had managed to arrange things so that they were on the Darmagan's bridge when the huge starship emerged from jumpspace. Manx was watching with interest as Chief Engineer Benson worked the repeater panels of the bridge engineering station to co-ordinate his ten crew back in the drive decks as they shut down the jump drives and warmed up the realspace drives, and so missed the crucial moment when the bridge crew got their first glimpse of the Sunless World. Alice, on the other hand, got a perfect view, as did the rest of the bridge crew, and it shocked them to silence.
A stray planet in deep space should have been black as pitch and cold as the grave, but what appeared on the forward viewscreen was anything but. Slightly smaller than terranormal, with a single major landmass arranged in a roughly cruciform shape amid oceans of ice, the world seemed to have an atmosphere, and was traced with the unmistakable skeins of light that betrayed cities and civilization. Impossibly, the landscape around these cities seemed illuminated, as if by a sun shining on them, despite the absence of any such body.
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The silence was shattered by Overcaptain Brown levelling a finger like a weapon at his Sensor Chief. "Eyes!" he barked, "what the fuck is going on?" In nothing so much as this breach in his normally dignified professionalism was the impact of the discovery shown. As the sensor chief scrambled to answer the question, Manx spoke up. "Are we alone up here?" he asked. Brown nodded in acknowledgement of the relevance of the question as the klaxon sounded Yellow Alert and the gunnery stations, already on alert, warmed their guns and began selecting speculative targets.
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After a couple of minutes the answers began to come back. The planet had an atmosphere, probably close to earth normal, and the zones around the cities were warmer than they should have been - warm enough for two lakes of liquid water nearby. The light sources did seem by all the normal standards to indicate cities; spots of movement ran along the threads of light linking them, hinting at transportation systems. Bewilderingly, the utter lack of neutrino readings showed that whatever was powering the city, it wasn't fusion reactors. Captain Brown glanced at his commo officer. "Ears? What have you got for me," he asked, voice steadier now as shock transmuted into response. His answer, though, was a shake of the head. "Nothing on any known channel, sir," said the man. His frustration was apparent; he'd expected little or nothing to do on this assignment, then suddenly there was someone to talk to - and they weren't saying anything.
"Launch detected, sir!" reported the sensor officer. "One craft, twenty to fifty dtons, orbiting the planet in eighteen minutes." Brown nodded, then glanced at Manx. "Do the aliens we discussed use ships?" he asked doubtfully. "You saw the video," said Alice simply. "Mmm," replied Brown, "then whom have we here?" He glanced at the commo officer. "Multihail mister Jarvis," he ordered, "standard contact signals. They may be listening, even if they're not talking. Guns? Draw me a bead on that craft, turrets only, hold for orders."
Some instinct - he rather hoped it wasn't a sixth sense - suggested to.Manx that he open his mind in much the same way as he had to the artifact.
Instantly, he found himself in contact with a mind. A mind which exceeded his own by such a degree that he felt like a rowboat under a looming tsunami. The power was such that at first he could make out no meaning; gradually, the other intelligence seemed to become aware of him and decreased its expectations to his level. There were no words, merely impressions, but these crystallized into clarity as he listened.
The most pressing sensation was one of discomfort, and he realized it was caused by the Darmagan 'shouting' on so-and-so frequencies - the radio bands the commo officer was using. A bead of sweat trickled down his face as he considered his dilemma; he needed to get the transmissions stopped, but if he revealed how he knew this was needed, he would be revealed as an illegal psionic - hazardous anywhere but in this region of space a ticket to prison. The only hopeful thing was that comms officer Jarvis was a Looker.
Alice had guessed what was going on and had been trying to make a distraction for him by pointing out sensor readings, something that was made much easier as the alien craft came into range of the densitometer and the startled sensor op found himself looking at a schematic of the vessel. Apparently these people didn't use artificial gravity either. "Two organics, roughly human-sized", he said.
The Second Look was the 'religion' Manx had cobbled together and served up to the interested during the journey to the Spinward Marches. The basic tenets were to teach followers to consider every significant decision in their lives twice; once from the objective, mechanical, real-world angle, and once again from a spiritual point of view and then to blend both into a balanced, informed perception of truth. It was easy to teach, made people happier and more confident about doing what they would probably have done anyway, and was pretty harmless. As was common with such groups, a secret signal existed to allow members to recognize each other - in this case, a surreptitious touch near one eye with two fingers, signifying the Second Look. Manx, of course, knew them all, but he made the Look anyway to add weight to his words. "This isn't getting us anywhere," he said quietly. Jarvis looked at him for a moment, then reached out and cancelled the transmission.
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Immediately, the presence in Manx' head displayed relief. By now, the spacecraft was in orbit. It circled the lonely planet twice, perhaps scanning the Darmagan in some way, and then headed towards them. Captain Brown looked pensive. "Can we get a visual?" he asked. The answer "yes" came from an unexpected source - Charles Lackshawe, the Chief Ground Engineer. Among his resources were the five scout service survey robots carried by the Darmagan; twenty minutes later, the two-metre block of the robot was zipping over towards the approaching vessel. Concentrating, Manx tried to project as strongly as he could the fact that it wasn't a weapon.
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On arriving in front of the alien spacecraft, the robot deployed sensors and cameras, relaying a visual picture of the front. The occupants seemed to percieve in a similar enough way to humaniti to need viewports, and through this the bridge crew were able to get their first look at the Jorait.
As this was going on, Manx was conversing again. The Jorait wanted to learn about him from his mind - it was indicative of their culture that they asked first - and he was trying to think of a way not to give them the whole lot, both because he didn't want humaniti judged by him and because whatever part of his brain he used for this was now getting very tired. Finally he settled for the Galanglic language. A moment later a strangely-accented voice spoke out of the air and he was able to relax.
"Welcome to our world, humans," it said. "We are the Jorait. What brings you here? It seems that whatever you were expecting to find here, it was not us."
Manx created a picture of the aliens from the Snow Goose in his mind and sent it. Do you recognize this? he thought. Instantly the warm, welcoming, civilized flavour of the mind he was touching transformed utterly. Closed, unco-operative, abrupt. You must all leave now it replied. Manx blinked.
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The rest of the bridge crew were unaware of this exchange, and continued to converse with the voice in the air. The Jorait did not know that only Manx had received the last mental transmission, and the result was that they heard the Captain and Director Davis continue to explain their mission to establish a research base as a refusal of that statement of rejection. When they repeated it verbally, it was with far less conviction.
Frantic intercom calls from the other stations of the Darmagan, enquiring if anyone else was hearing voices, showed the Jorait's words were reaching everyone.
Captain Brown, with the skillful mixture of liaison and gunboat diplomacy that the Imperial Navy was famous for, managed to politely insist that an embassy be allowed to land to discuss the matter directly without being overtly threatening. "We have no answer to your weapons," replied the Jorait. "Land here - " a map appeared - "near Slammic, and we shall meet you." Manx realized there was a significant element of fear in the mental state of the Jorait; maybe they were really as peaceful as they seemed. Abruptly the voice ceased, and the alien spacecraft turned and headed back to the planet, which seemed to be known to the Jorait as simply The World.
Manx sat down heavily, feeling as if he'd run for miles. "I need a cup of tea," he muttered.
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Alice and Captain Brown were pretty much simultaneous in proposing the 'consultants' as the core contact team, but the planning became disorganized when Brigadier Farquarson spoke up. "Four G-Carriers should be enough to secure the LZ and perimeter," he began briskly, "if we drop to 60 men it'll leave space for the civvies you want...." He was cut off in his turn as Science Chief Ransome, normally the mildest of men, balled his fists and snarled "I don't believe this; we encounter a new nonhuman race, apparently peaceful and unarmed, and this fool wants to start a war?" The brig. huffed and blustered about "dreamers who leave others to look after sensible security" and things could have got out of hand right there if Brown and Davis hadn't stepped in.
It looked as if the cons were. going to get the chance to actually act as the xenoscientists they'd signed up as; Davis selected his contact team based on their recommendations. With Manx and Alice as liaison, Gripper, Scarrow and Martha as security, and Arba Choix as science officer, plus Zugh the vargr for his slightly sharper senses, they were ready to go. As they headed off to suit up, Manx leaned closer to the others and muttered, "If we're all together and in the Vanguard, we can more easily bug out if things get hairy."
| DM Note: The maser communicator is a line-of-sight device utilizing microwaves instead of laser light, which makes them immune to atmospheric conditions, with a regional range (500 km). This distance is seldom needed on a world’s surface since the distance to the horizon limits the range first, but this range often allows contact with an orbiting ship. The maser communicator’s main advantage is that it provides a tight beam and therefore a private means of communication. Sets of maser communicators are often set up in a "repeater" network. Spaced at a horizon-to-horizon distance, the units can instantly convey a message around a world by retransmitting it from station to station |
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Manx had told his three friends (only) about the details of his mental interchange. He still resisted the idea that he was a psionic; "I am not now and have never been a snoop; but ever since the business with the balls I've been ... sensitive." he explained. "Our hosts seem very, very unimpressed by the idea of the Snow Goose aliens. Don't mention them - I did, once, but I think I got away with it. Reading people's minds without permission appears to be something they don't like doing." Alice picked up the thread. "Open weapons would probably be a very bad idea," she said. "We'll need suits until we're sure the air is clean," she said, "but I suggest vacc rather than battledress. If we leave enough crew in the Vanguard to come and get us if things go pear-shaped we'll be covered. In any case, if they're as mentally powerful as they seem, guns may not be enough." In the end, Alice carried one of her elaborate kukris as a ceremonial piece, and Manx said nothing at all about his internal pouch and what it contained.
Manx rigged up a maser communication link with which the contact team could report in every 4 hours without broadcasting the frequencies inimical to the Jorait, and connected it to the Vanguard's telemetry so as to record their movements.
Jorait World, 1008/Spinward Marches, 13:07 shipboard time, 211/1107
Taking the controls, Manx dropped the Vanguard towards the Sunless World, sliding into the atmosphere and heading for the landing site indicated by the Jorait. As they descended, the crew scanned the planet, picking up clues and information from what they saw.
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Unlike every other planetfall they'd ever made, here the light radiated from below instead of above. Sensors showed the domes over the cities to be the source of the light; they were some sort of energy field, no obstacle to the ship. As they passed through the dome, there was a brief darkness as the Vanguard's computer opaqued the front viewport to protect the crew's eyes, and then they could see the city below. Instantly, the surreal strangeness of being lit from below vanished. Below, they could see the city with distinguishable buildings and roads, and what looked like some kind of agriculture further out. Such comparisons were dangerous, but if this were a human city, the population would be around one to five thousand; that would put the planetary population between twenrty and a hundred and twenty thousand. The sensors reported that the air was warm under the dome, warm enough to survive in, and close enough to terranormal to be safely breathable.
The Vanguard settled onto a landing pad and almost immediately half a dozen Jorait appeared to meet them. From the way they wandered around outside the vessel, it was clear they weren't entirely sure where the passengers were going to emerge from. Manx solved that by cracking the hatch, and the contact team disembarked to make the first contact between humans and Jorait.
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The aliens were taller than the humans by a few inches, and rather thinner in general build, with three-fingered hands, large eyeless heads and short vestigal tails. Their smooth skins had intricate patterns in greens and browns. All in all they were very unlike the Snow Goose aliens, though Alice and Manx still wondered if they might be descended from or related to them in some way. They greeted their guests in verbal speech, strangely and gravely, and invited them to a place prepared for their meeting.
A short walk later, they arrived at a peaceful-looking grove, where a pool was surrounded by a dozen or more trees spaced evenly. Here more than anywhere so far, the inherent peculiarity of the lighting made itself felt; instead of emanating from one or more suns, the 'daylight' came evenly from everywhere in the sky, throwing no shadows or highlights. Each Jorait seated itself against a tree, and the leader, whose name was Dyelin, invited them to do likewise. Whether by virtue of the arrangement or some hidden amplifiers, when anyone spoke, all could hear. As she sat, Alice surreptitiously plucked loose a bit of the bark and slipped it into a pocket.
Settling into place, Manx tilted his head, listening. On the edge of perception, he could hear ... no, not hear; it was in his mind as the speech of the Jorait had been ... a fluctuating, patterned flow of mental 'sound'. It was faint, almost below discernment, but it was constantly there. It was quite appealing, rather pleasant to listen to, now he considered it. There was no urge to join in, nor to react to it in any way, but he found his state of mind relaxed and improved by its' presence.
Starting carefully, Alice apologized on behalf of the mission for the awkwardness of the initial contact. They were explorers and scientists, she explained, who had expected from the ancient records they'd read to find this a barren world of relics where they could set up their base in seclusion. Carefully, she did not mention the subject matter of their planned research. The Jorait did not glance at each other or speak for a moment, but Manx could feel the interplay of rushing telepathy as they discussed. Dyelin spoke finally. "We would welcome you here to conduct your research," he said, "science is an honoured thing among us. There is plenty of wasteland in which you could place your base, away from any influence of the domes."
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"I hope you don't mind me asking," said Alice, "but we use sight and speech; you seem to have moved beyond those to other means of communication?" Dyelin nodded, though it was clear he had observed this gesture and copied it rather than it being one that came naturally. "We perceive things on the frequencies you call 'radar' and 'radio'," he said, "as well as mindspeaking. Most of your minds are closed to us, although yours is not," he indicated Manx, "and some others of your crew may also be able to learn the way. Some, like yourself, already can hear the Song of Exultation." Arba's eyes widened with shock, and she stared at her lover in a new way at hearing this. Manx sighed. Maybe he should have told her about this earlier...
Alice led the conversation into a sharing of knowledge about their respective races, discussing the 'farms' they'd seen, genders, lifespans, how time was counted on a world with no nigh, seasons or years, and other cultural features. "How do you record your history?" she asked. Dyelin appeared confused. "Record?" he said slowly, "we know our history. The memories of all Jorait, past and present, back to our arrival on The World, exist within the Mind, and are there to be drawn upon. Before that, we do not know. We fled here from some terror, we know, and that is all."
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Manx - aided by Minion - assembled a potted history of the Imperium for them. As he did so, he realized with sadness that the single dominant characteristics of human history were curiosity, greed - and war. War, for these people who never even argued, was bewildering, incomprehensible. Maybe this was why the Jorait had removed themselves from the Galaxy? Tentatively, he made another attempt. "A subject was brought up earlier, which you seem to regard as worse than war...?" He stopped as a wave of psychic emotion rolled over him, a wash of pain, fear, distaste and reluctance. "You came here for peace and safety," he said, changing the subject.
Session Date: 19th October 2011 (292/-2507 Imperial) |
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