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Food Court <Galaxy Galleria>
A variety of large, potted greenery surrounds neat rows of sterile built-in tables and benches under a gigantic skylight, showing the distant dots of stars above. Lining the edges of the circular chamber are over a dozen food service booths, from the strong vinegar flavor of Lotorian cuisine to the highly spiced meat dishes of Hekayti cuisine, to the subtle vegan flavors of Aukami fare. At each end of the court, two broad doorways head in opposite directions into the Galleria's corridors.
James Sterling deposits his empty meal tray in the proper receptacle and stretches, gazing up to the star-filled skylight over his head. "Space Mall," he mutters to himself, chuckling.
Kethren stretches a bit as he comes wandering into the food court with a lively ser running about on his shoulders, a cheery penguin at his side, and the perpetually cranky guard bringing up the rear. His attention would seem to be taken up by some text rapidly scrolling along the pda he's got in front of him.
Sterling returns his attention to the room, noting with a smile the arrival of the man with the menagerie. "G'day there," he calls.
Kethren keeps walking along obliviously reading. Floriana however, offers a cheerful wave before poking Keth's neck a bunch until he looks over. "Afternoon there."
Sterling laughs at Kethren's distraction with the PDA, grinning at the little creature madly poking him to gain his attention. "Heavy readin'?" he asks.
Kethren chuckles as he reaches up to scratch the ser "Slightly. I have a lot of business contracts to look over for errors. I often use the shuttle trips to get some of that in."
Sterling nods slowly. "Real estate business is healthy, then?" He glances to the stars overhead again. "Lotsa places t'choose from, I expect."
Kethren smirks "Eh, these are more about the empire's trade arrangements. Gripping stuff like that. But yes, there's a lot of land left to develop on in the city."
Sterling snorts. "Never liked anything t'do with politics. Alla yer development gonna be tree-friendly? Those livin' tree places on Baile were pretty impressive." He pauses, glancing aside at nothing. "Not my style, but I reckon y'gotta have some kinda green thumb t'build a thing like that."
Kethren smiles "Well, the development on Baile, anyway. When we start work on another planet, we'll look around and see what would suit the place. Those trees would fare rather poorly in a desert, I think."
"Yeh!" Sterling chuckles. "Like t'see what y'd do with a desert," he says.
Kethren nods "Depends on how long we wanted to stay. Yurts maybe? Probably there's not a lot of interest in long term settling in one... apart from maybe a science facility. This hypothetical desert probably has something worth studying."
Sterling digs in his jacket pocket for a moment, pulling out a cigarette packet. "I thought y'might..." He waves his free hand in vague circles. "...build somethin' outta, y'know, the 'living earth'." He widens his eyes momentarily. "Some grand sandy rocky thing."
Kethren shrugs "Maybe for the science place. But again, it really depends on what we find there to build with. Might not be anything particularly suitable on hand."
Sterling nods, sliding a cigarette out of the packet with his lips. "But this is the future," he says around the cig. "Surely y'c'n do more with sand than we could in 2012."
Kethren smirks "We could make an entire city out of glass! But it'd get scratched up, quickly, be fragile, and probably too much of a pain the ass to bother with. Probably there're interesting things to do with it, but I've not looked into it. Not past making sand castles."
Sterling gives a hearty laugh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "I ain't no architect, but sand castles're somethin' I can appreciate." He grins, pointing at Kethren with the cigarette. "You oughta find a way t'make giant sand castles that y'c'n live in. Right on th'beach -- hey, I went t'that Eiru place couple weeks back. Real nice place. Reminds me o'home."
Kethren nods "A lot of displaced humans have settled there... it's a lovely place, really."
"I just hopped on over t'the place with th'beach," Sterling replies. "Mostly I try t'stick close t'Comorro, just at the minute. I got recruited for REM but I ain't official yet. Joca says she needs me t'do a couple tests. Y'know, so she knows I'm not makin' shit up about what I c'n do." He smiles and sticks the cigarette back in his mouth.
Kethren nods "Lots of good beaches on that planet. Partial to the less froofy ones, though. Tend to be quieter."
Sterling fishes in his jeans pocket for a plain, undecorated metal lighter and lights his cigarette. "'Froofy'?" He raises an eyebrow.
Kethren smirks "Upscale. For the rich folks. Not to say they're not nice beaches, I just lean towards the ones where I can quietly build a sand castle without having thirty-seven vendors trying to sell me water, ice cream, and gold watches while I'm busy."
"Ah." Sterling puffs his cigarette to life, then nods. "I get ya. I'd rather be left alone on th'beach too. Exceptin' when I bring me own company, o'course." He grins toothily.
Kethren nods "Joca will probably make sure you see the one by the hotel there. It's nice, really. The hotel employs some good dancers for the beach if I'm recalling right."
Sterling's eyebrows rise in interest. "Dancers, eh?" He chuckles. "Sounds good. I'll have t'remember that."
Kethren smirks "Pyracani dancers. I'm not sure how popular they are among humans. I don't mind, personally. I live with a Hek lady, for instance."
"Pyracani," Sterling repeats, squinting in concentration for a moment. "Those're... one o'the animal people, right?" He nods his head at Kethren's PDA. "I been readin' about all th'crazy people an' things that live here in the future sci-fi universes, but I don't remember 'em all. An' what's a 'Hek'?"
Kethren nods "Pyracani are... well, they're not dissimilar to earth dogs. But yknow, bipedal and rather more intelligent. Heks... well, they're humanoid... but their legs are goat-like, and they have horns."
Sterling nods. He glances toward one of the food kiosks where he bought the spicy meal he ate earlier. "The curly horn people," he says, "with the tasty food?"
Kethren chuckles "Well, the horns come in a wide range of shapes and sizes, but yes. They do have rather nice cuisine."
"I reckon I oughta head back t'Comorro pretty soon," Sterling says. "Can't be missing when th'boss decides t'put me t'the test. Y'know, I've seen REM mercs in most o'the places I've roamed to. As an org, they must be doin' okay."
Kethren nods "Oh, yeah. Joca's done a fine job with them. I wouldn't be on the payroll if I didn't think she wasn't doing her job well."
"Joca's alright," Sterling agrees, grinning. "I ain't used t'callin' somebody /else/ th'boss, but she seems t'be good at keepin' th'rabble under control. Well, except maybe fer Micky. That bloke's got problems." He frowns. "Y'know, I been meanin' t'try an' get in touch with somebody who c'n help me figure out this 'rifted out' stuff. I wanna know what happened to me lads, and if I c'n ever get back to 'em."
Kethren smirks "It should be noted here, that not everyone likes her /that/ way." With a bit of a shrug he scratches Floriana a bit. "Been rifted... three times, myself. None by choice. Unless you count using the rift modulator on the Cro... but that's not exactly the same. But I do know an... interesting science type who could at least give you better answers than I."
Sterling takes a drag off his cigarette, frowning and quirking an eyebrow at the phrase 'that way'. "Three times?!" He shakes his head. "Sounds like you got worse luck'n I do. But answers're what I need," he says seriously. "If you know someone who knows this stuff, I'll be glad t'meet 'im."
Kethren nods as his eyes go out of focus for a moment "First time brought me into this universe. Best thing that ever happened to me. Second time... well, it provided a fine test for the armor I'd recently built. Last one brought me back." While he's talking he starts to scratch the calico soothingly "And you won't believe how thrilled Floriana was... somehow the rift that took me away missed her. Poor girl was terrified... I think she knew where I was. Anyway, I've sent a note to Leu. Should be here soon."
Leucohyle arrives from Landing Bay.
Leucohyle has arrived.
"Huh." Sterling exhales the smoke through his nose. "Never had a pet meself." He pauses. "You really think comin' here from home was that good?" he asks. "Y'didn't leave anybody behind or nothin'?"
Leucohyle
This female humanoid appears to be either in her late teens or early twenties, and seems, for lack of a better word, to be the personification of "mathematical human average." She is of average height, that being approximately five feet, five inches tall, and is somewhere in the range of one hundred and twenty pounds.
Despite her very unassuming bearing, her ivory-pale skin is smooth and blemish free, her precisely-trimmed nails are buffed to a natural shine, and her teeth are exceptionally straight and white. Her chestnut-colored hair, while strikingly short, is also well-kept, brushing against the tips of her small ears in glossy, feathery tufts. Slender, somewhat sparse eyebrows sit above clear, hazel eyes, completing her mild-mannered appearance. What is -not- average about her is a complete lack of marks upon her skin; no scars, no moles, and no hair other than her scalp and eyebrows. The delicate tracery of pale blue veins can be seen beneath this expanse of unmarked skin, along with equally delicate patterns of circuitry.
Presently, she is dressed in a very sensible outfit of black trousers with a faint houndstooth pattern, a pair of nonconductive soled non-skid low boots, and a soft v-necked blouse in heather gray. Over her shoulder is a rugged-looking canvas engineer's bag, unadorned except for a screen print of an orchid on the top flap. A wide variety of tools and assorted pieces of technology poke out of pockets and holsters, and a walnut-sized, multi-limbed robot is perched upon her shoulder. Two or three more similar, albeit smaller robots scuttle to and fro between her hair, shoulders, glasses, and pockets. From a pair of glittering black ports at her temples extends a glossy black wireframe that snaps shut over the bridge of her nose like a pair of half-glasses; however, the lenses themselves are holographic.
Kethren smiles "She's not really a pet. It's... more complex. Like I said, she knew where I was. That's a hell of a trick across a few hundred years and a universe over. Anyway... yeah, I left my sister behind, but she had a good education and a decent start on her career. She'll be fine... /was/ fine, I'm sure." The two are just standing around in the food court, fairly out of the way. Keth's got the penguin variant of his standard entourage, and the other chap is smoking. Wark!
Sterling shakes his head. "See, that's what I mean. She /was/ fine. Me lads an' ever'body I ever knew, even my bastard of a father, they're all bloody dead now, 'cos it's hundreds of years later. I jus' can't sit by an' go, 'Well, que sera sera!'"
After a reasonable amount of time, a rather distinct (and recognizable, at least to Kethren) sound of many metallic limbs on the space mall's flooring can be heard over the general hubbub and traffic. The traffic also appears to be moving away from an approximate five-food radius. As this gap in foot traffic approaches, the source is apparent; a pair of multi-limbed spherical robots, one the size of a beach ball and one the size of a basketball are scuttling around a small humanoid female, literally keeping her clear of any accidental collisions or interactions with passersby. A smaller version of said robots scuttles by the table, and then stops to turn its lensed underbelly towards Kail, and then Kethren. The woman looks in that direction at the same moment the little 'bot utters an electronic chirp. "Ah, H-hello, Mister-Kethren," she pipes, in a small fluting voice tinted with a Sivadian/English accent. "So, er. We're in the er... Galleria, then? For. Food? I see."
Kethren chuckles "Evening, Leu. Actually I was just out to do some window shopping. Ran into a fairly new rifter here, and he had some questions I thought you'd be more qualified to answer. Rift tech is rather outside my field."
The cigarette hangs momentarily forgotten in Sterling's hand as he watches the mini-parade of robots enter the food court. He slowly sticks the cigarette back in his mouth, taking a distracted drag. "G'day," he quietly offers the young woman after Kethren finishes his explanation.
Leucohyle follows Kethren's gesture over to James, who she appears to be noticing for the first time. "Ah. I see," she pipes, before drawing a cloth and a small spray bottle from one of numerous holsters on her belt and cleaning her chair of fastidiously and sitting down. "Leucohyle Amalia Hall, genetic offspring of Alastair Rhys Callum Hall of forty-first century Sivad. Owner and operator of of Hall Robotics. Chief Science Officer of the of the VES Minerva mission to the Orion Arm, that being the m-mission lead by Captain David Ransom Porter. I helped reverse engineer the rift drive and make the schematics available for public development and and usage. I am by far the er, the -most- qualified person for you to speak with in this field. What is your t-time period and planet-of-origin?"
Kethren nods thoughtfully from his seat.
Sterling stares as the young woman rattles off her list of identifiers and qualifications. He blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "Twenty twelve," he replies flatly, regarding Leu with a mildly puzzled expression. "Earth."
"Earth is a-accessible through the Trans-Rift Shuttle. There is one on Comorro. Unfortunately its drop-off point is on -Tomin Kora-," Leucohyle pipes, with a disdainful little sniff. "It is most disreputable. A-alternatively, you could speak with any -reputable- organization w-with access to er, rift technology. Now. The er, the rift technology will return you to Earth, but it may or may not be the Earth from whence you came. Unfortunately there is -not- any manner of technology existing as of yet that allows one to er, select a -time- period. It is presently present Normalspace year which I think is about three years in the future from Hiverspace; she would know, I totally forgot." She cants her head to the side. "Again, n-no guarantee that it is -your- Earth but it is in fact Earth."
Kethren nods "Indeedy." Wark!
Sterling's silent for a time. He takes another drag and exhales the smoke before responding. "So yer sayin' I can't get back t'me own time, much less have any prayer o' findin' the right bloody Earth."
"I am saying that there is no manner of technology e-existing as of yet that allows one to to select a -time period-," Leucohyle repeats, primly, before continuing. "As of your latter statement I must advise you that faith-based decision making is not recommended. Historically, prior to the rift drives being made available, there was no way to control travel between universes at all. So... 'can't' is is a rather inapplicable term for it." She crinkles her nose, rabbitlike, at the smoke. "B-besides, what would you want to go back to twenty-twelve- for? It's -primitive-."
Kethren nods "Maybe there's a way back. But I'd recommend making peace with your new life. It's great out here."
"It's /home/." Sterling sets the cigarette aside on the table and leans toward Leu, an intense look on his face. "You'll 'ave t'forgive me /primitive/ lack o'clarity o'words, love," he says, "but I'm rather attached t'me home, and t'me lads. They were me family." He flicks Kethren a glance. "Out 'ere," he continues, "I got nobody. Sure, I meet people ... and things ... but I'm a stranger here. I don't belong." He returns his gaze to Leu. "I need t'go back where I /belong/."
Leucohyle's reaction to this is a very precise lean back at the exact angle with which James leans forward, although it seems to be more of a reaction to the proximity rather than the intensity. She crinkles her nose again. "Well, -sir-," she says, her Sivadian accent reaching 'we are not amused' depths. "-You-, like nearly every other human and and other race that has been unfortunately displaced in in space and time due to the poorly secured and faith-based experimentation of the Kamir, would like to go -home-. If perhaps you you did some research, you would learn that you are -not- in fact alone. There are many humans from Earth and you will likely find some that are from the twenty first and second centuries. Also if you are are going to smoke you should try a better brand. There are some smokable compounds available that have beneficial effects. At this time I would estimate that you are exhaling twelve percent more hydrocarbons than is considered -polite-." A few numbers scroll across the lower left lens of her holospectacles.
Kethren nods as he scratches his penguin "Came in from 2010. A lot of people on Eiru are from similar years. Losing one home doesn't mean you can't find another."
Sterling pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, though he does it without changing his proximity to Leu. He leans on the table with one hand and stares a challenge at her. "I ain't the sort t'just give up," he says, his voice pitched low. The hand he's not leaning on points accusingly at her. "So-called brainiacs like you thought they knew it all, back home, when we were fightin' beasts o' men in th'streets. 'We c'n cure it,' they said. 'Killin' 'em's wrong,' they said. They were too busy in their labs playin' with their chemistry sets t'live in th'real world, an' people died." He pushes off the table and begins to pace around it. "Jus' 'cos y'got a fat stack o'degrees don't make y'God. An' it don't give ya th'right t'treat others like they're cavemen. Now, y'got some manners in that head-thing o'yours, or should we just call this a wash?"
Leucohyle cants her head to the side, pressing her lips together. "-Sir-," she repeats. "In my six hundred seventy two days, two hours, thirty four minutes and and nine ten eleven seconds of life, I have conquered more technological d-dilemmas than likely -every- one of of the quote-unquote braniacs of your time period. I've -no- bloody idea what sort of -creatures- you are going on about but biology is entirely not my field and I can assure you I had nothing to do with... whatever nonsense they were practicing. Also, since you did not notice the first two instances in which I stated this... I find faith-based decision making to to be utterly frivolous and therefore to consider myself any sort of 'God' would be exceptionally contrary to my own statements. Which, while it does in fact echo the behaviours of many manufactured faiths I can assure you this is not the instance." She meets the challenging gaze with a complete poker face with occasional flickers of rabbitlike disapproval. "If by 'manners' you mean acquiescence, as though you you expect me to just... cow before your physical superiority and and promise to do whatever it it is you want, I can also assure you... this is -not- the instance." The clattering of robots in the background has grown quiet, mostly because, it seems, all of the robots are presently fixing James with a multitude of expressionless polycarbonate lenses.
Kethren idly scratches Kail, quietly watching the exchange.
Sterling comes back around to stand behind the chair he was sitting in. He leans on it with both hands and regards the young woman. "Is it possible fer you t'speak a bloody sentence without tellin' me how damned superior y'are?" he asks. "Talkin' down t'folks tends t'piss 'em off, in case, in yer six hundred and whatnot days, y'haven't noticed. An' I got a name, which y'never bothered t'ask. /And/," he adds with a heavy air of exasperation, "the 'God' references are a figure o'bloody speech. I don't believe in any o'that rot, fer th'record."
"I was not r-raised for fallacies of modesty," Leu replies, tone completely mild. Her eyes drift out of focus momentarily, and a few lines of text skitter across the lenses of her holospecs. "Well," she pipes, "I offered my name and and you did not offer yours in return. Sociological data indicates that neither of us are obligated to request or offer names and I have done a reasonable effort at socially acceptable behaviour w-with regards to introductions. I believe you you are projecting your frustrations at being unable to to return home upon w-what you interpret as my unwillingness to assist you in doing so. If I had been commissioned to to create such technology, and and been given funding and appropriate technology, I I would have already done so. As, as it stands I am a native of Hiverspace-slash-The the Ancient Expanse and and have no personal need to travel. The the technology you desire does not exist, and and getting -shouty- with me will not cause the technology to exist. My superiority, as as you call it, should act as an assurance that I am not underinformed with regards to existing technology or or underestimating the ability of this universe to produce it in a reasonable amount of time."
Kethren stretches a bit in his seat, still listening to the kerfuffle.
Sterling pauses before offering a response. "Y'started by askin' fer time an' planet," he says, his voice noticeably quieter, "after reeling out a list of accomplishments that would choke a goat." He shakes his head. "Y'got too much learnin' t'have any sense," he declares. He looks to Kethren. "If I wanted somebody t'come an' tell me t'give it the hell up, I coulda asked him. An' if I wanted t'be psychoanalysed by a girl -- well, I wouldn't want that at all." He pulls the chair out from the table with a foot and drops into it, folding his arms over his chest. "So if I accept what you told me about th'technology, then I'm stuck here, in sci-fi land, with the robots and th'aliens and whatnot, an' I may as well get used to it and quit me damn whinin', is that it?"
"Sir, I am neither a biologist nor a psychoanalyst. I'm a a roboticist. I build and maintain -robots- and and other mechanical and electronic items. I I do not h-have any claims to to be able to -fix- any dilemma with wholly biological beings or entities," Leucohyle says, in her little fluting voice. "-Honestly-. I I mean just, well." She gestures at the table in general, and the mall. "I I mean just -look- at all of this, it's bloody chaos. I am unable to make sense of any of it. Or you. I'm not not telling you -anything- other than what I've -told- you. The technology does not yet exist."
Kethren drums his fingers on the table idly "...my experience on that warship suggests otherwise. Not that it does anyone any good. Those rifts were controlled from a facility in a pocket universe. Even if that weren't the case. Even if I had it in my own back yard. I would /not/ let you use it. The cost is too high."
Sterling blows out a breath. "Fine. Records, then," he says to Leu. "History, even. I wanna know what happened t'me lads. I wanna know if they died in the battle I was rifted out of. An' I wanna know if they ever beat the bastards we were fightin'." His gaze snaps to Kethren. "You mentioned that before," he says. "On Baile. You said you didn't know where it was, but that it was too dangerous to use." His eyes narrow. "Why?"
"Oh that... well... 'device,' whatever it is, whatever it was... is dangerous to use precisely because much like the experiments of the Kamir it is not, in fact, controllable. The reports indicated -several- failed experiments in controlled rift usage alongside several concurrent instances of displaced conciousnesses. It is not viable technology," Leucohyle pipes, and then cants her head to Sterling. "Oh all of that should be readily available via the Synapse network. If if you lack any neural implantation you can connect via a PDA or any public terminal."
Kethren nods "All very good reasons. But even if it /did/ work well? Power outlay... sending a single person across time and universes like that destroys an entire star. And barring a really good escape plan, all life on any planets orbiting said star."
Sterling listens carefully to Leu's explanation. The technical terms elude him, but he grimaces at the phrase 'displaced consciousnesses'. That just sounds unpleasant. He fishes his PDA out of his jacket pocket and holds it up. "They have history of more'n jus' /this/ universe's Earth?" he asks. "I need t'find th'right one." He looks back to Kethren. "A whole star?" He frowns, glancing back to Leu. "But y'couldn't send a person back to a specific place that y'wanted 'cos y'd wind up anyplace. Or... dead, or somethin'. Right?"
Leucohyle continues looking prim and mild, although the robots are still... staring. "There is an aggregate of varied reports from rifted personages and-or media available. There is a distinct possibility of of multiple 'events' from w-within the same universe. The terminus point... as-it-were, appears to be to be here. Hiverspace, the the Ancient Expanse, what-have-you. But yes. You are correct. Even if who-or-what-ever was in possession of the rifting device were inclined to er, to er -share- it... the technology is, as Mister-Kethren indicated, hideously inefficient and yes unsafe for personal use. You could literally end up anywhere, or or any-when-, in any body, or no body at all, or into the vacuum of space. The risk, as it stands right now, is not worth any potential reward."
Kethren nods "Indeed."
"In another /body/?" Sterling stares, wide-eyed, at Leu. "I'd ask 'how's that possible?', except I'm afraid y'd tell me. Is anybody doin' research, y'know, on this stuff? T'find a way t'do it without all that mess?"
"-By unfortunate accident-," Leu replies to the 'how is that possible' question, with an expression that clearly telegraphs her distaste. "Er. I'm I'm certain there are more responsible persons performing said research but I do not know any of them personally. I have not been in the field of rift technology since the VES Minerva returned to the Orion Arm. I did not go on the journey as my home is in fact here and there was no promise, at at the indicated time, that we would return."
Kethren nods "And as I said, it's not my field. Never was. Not that I find much time for the purer scientific pursuits these days... too many things to do."
"Minerva," Sterling repeats. "They were lookin' into that kinda stuff? The rifting tech?" He lays the PDA in his lap, then glances at it, almost as an afterthought. "I should probably write this stuff down," he mutters.
Leucohyle cants her head to the side, looking mildly confused. "Er yes that is what I said. The VES Minerva is the ship upon which I and the other members of the science team successfully reverse-engineered the drive technology that enables the passage between known segments of a multiverse via a rift. The ship was destroyed in an altercation on the the other side and the crew disbanded."
Kethren nods idly, listening to the exchange.
Sterling glances up at Leu, midway through tediously entering the ship's name into his PDA with two fingers. "This is /all/ news t'me, love," he says with a slight smile. "I've only been here a month. If I memorised every bit o'trivia anybody threw at me, me 'ead'd explode."
"I I only said it twenty-eight minutes and thirty two seconds ago," Leucohyle pipes, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world, and then shrugs. "W-well anyways the Minerva's mission was completed. We developed an operable drive that can traverse an existing rift. I believe wh-what you are looking for is the technology to -create- a traversable rift. And and well I can sincerely assure you that the creation of rifts is at best a very unsafe sort of er... 'science'."
Kethren nods.
Sterling chuckles, now seemingly more amused than annoyed at Leu's computerlike ways. He nods. "Right, y'said." He frowns at the PDA, even as he keeps poking at it. "Gotta be an easier way t'do this," he complains. He looks up at Leu. "This is the bloody future," he states. "Ain't there a way t'just ... zap th'stuff I wanna remember inta this thing without me sittin' here fer ten years like some idiot that don't know how t'program his VCR?"
Leucohyle looks as though she -wants- to answer; in fact, she -starts- a few statements with that little 'open mouth, then close mouth' gesture. Several lines of text skitter across the lenses of her holospectacles, along with a few imagines. Finally, she just presses her lips together. "Er. That would likely require a neural implant."
Kethren nods "That was my thought. I can reccomend a good surgeon for that job." Floriana chitters with probably far too much amusement for that statement.
Sterling unintentionally mimics Leu's gesture. Finally he says, "I'll, er, keep that in mind." He goes back to poking at the PDA. "So y'got tech t'go /through/ a rift," he says, "but not tech t'/create/ one. But, I c'n maybe look up info on what happened to me lads on this thing. And, maybe somebody will invent the thing before I die." He glances up, shrugging. "Maybe."
Micky arrives from Landing Bay.
Micky has arrived.
"It it -is- likely. After all, we er did not have the technology to as you say go through the rift when I was decanted, and and now we do," Leu pipes, grimacing with undisguised distaste as a mall-goer ambles by with a great big basket of fried things. "Yes and and it -has- been proven that multiple rifts from the the same point of origin are possible, as well as multiple rifts from similar u-universes based upon differing timelines, so er. Well perhaps your... 'lads,' as-it-were, have continued to exist in one continuum or another." She is sitting at a table in the food court, accompanied by Iota, Episilon, and probably a few smaller spiderbots. Kethren and James are also at this table; James may still be standing (or may not!) and is currently futzing with a PDA as though it's got something he wants but he knows not how to get it. Keth's got the robopenguin and Floriana.
Kethren nods "They're not for everybody, but personally I find that the neural interface is an amazingly useful device. In all seriousness, I simply couldn't wouldn't have time for all the work I have to do if I didn't have one."
Sterling sits at the table with Leu and Kethren, scowling periodically at his PDA as he taps at it. He nods as Kethren speaks. "Gimme time t'get used t'this place," he says, not looking up. "I'll look into it." His nose wrinkles and he lifts his head as he detects the scent of something deep-fried. "Anybody hungry?" he asks absently. He looks at Leu, snapping his fingers. "Could any o'them've been picked up by the same rift that grabbed me?" he asks, "an' dumped 'em someplace else?"
Micky shows up with a water bottle containing some sort of murky liquid in one hand. He's scratching at his crotch with the other. There's a duffel bag slung across his shoulders. Now, if you guessed that the water bottle was a spitter, you're right. He spits a stream of brown tobacco juice in there on his way to a vegan Aukami food booth. Who knew? He points out some random things with no meat filler before paying.
"Simultaneous rifts have been historically proven," Leu says, picking up a walnut-sized spider bot and 'walking' it up and down her fingers. It looks as though she's -about- to greet Micky until he spits; whereupon she seems to think better of it and picks up a napkin with which to clean the table. "As well as concurrent rifts from the same universe fragment at different locations and-or times."
Kethren grimaces a little at the water bottle action. Wark?
"So it's possible some of 'em are here, in this universe?" Sterling's gaze follows Leu's long enough to take in the familiar form of Micky. He casts a faint smile at the older fellow, inclining his head to him.
Micky waves a disposable fork at Sterling as he posts himself up in a standing spot near the vegan food booth. He tucks the bottle under his arm before he starts to eat. He hasn't spit out the tobacco wad, so one can only assume that he is a fan of chaw flavored vegetarian food.
Leucohyle sighs quietly. "Yes, there is a mathematical possibility that items or entities from your place and time could have ended up -somewhere- in in Hiverspace. But I I do not wish to instill some false manner of hope within you. Just because it is -possible- does not mean that it it -has- occurred. It may not have occurred, it may have occurred in the past, it may occur in the f-future. You see."
Kethren nods "Like I said. May as well get used to this universe. It's going to take some time... but it's worth it."
Sterling gives Leu a long-suffering look. "I know, I know, it'd be like lookin' fer a needle in a haystack. But the blast that knocked me through the rift was a helluva thing -- probably bein' rifted was the thing that kept me from gettin' pulped, given the size o'th'room and how much oil was in that tank. It mighta saved some o'them as well, an' even if I don't find 'em, they might not be dead." He pauses a moment, seeming to regard his own words. "Hell," he mutters sourly.
Done with his rabbit food, Micky tosses the plate and stuff into whatever vegan approved disposal there happens to be near the Aukami stand. He sniffs and proceeds towards the cool kid table. The bottle is back in his hand instead of under an arm.
"This is true. They may not be deceased, either in your time line of origin or or differing time lines. For, for instance, our friend Vessa Harden, her sister was deceased in in her time line and then rifted over from a a -differing- one. So er well yes there could very well be a multitude of time lines in which your er, compatriots would be alive, or dead, more successful or less. The possibilities are are in fact infinite. For instance there there was a universe in which I was born biologically and and also disadvantaged." Leu prattles on, her voice seemingly unable to keep up with her thoughts.
Kethren scratches Floriana kinda slowly, looking a bit distant as he does.
"Looks like I got some readin' t'do," Sterling concludes, frowning at his PDA. "Y'know I never was into all this sci-fi stuff," he complains. "Alternate universes, time travel, spaceships, all that stuff. Couple o'th'lads were, so I couldn't help but hear about it..." He shakes his head and tucks his PDA back into his jacket. "Thanks fer the info," he tells Leu as he gets up from his chair. "I think I'm gonna grab a snack fer th'road an' get meself back t'Comorro." He flicks a smile at Micky. "'Fore th'boss finds out I'm missin'."
"Don't let her bug your PDA," advises Micky while flicking his nose with an index finger and gravely nodding. He side notes to Kethren, "Got an Auk engineer for you on Comorro if you're hiring."
Leucohyle pauses in mid-farewell to Sterling and squints at Micky. "D-don't let me -what- his PDA? I'm er... entirely uncertain as to to how to respond to that. My surveillance products are, well..." she holds up the walnut-sized arachno-bot. "-These-. Are are you mistaking me for someone else I should sincerely hope not seeing as I do not resemble anyone else."
Kethren blinks a couple times before nodding to Micky "Hm? ...Oh... yeah, probably wouldn't hurt to have another engineer on hand. Too late to be doing interviews tonight, though."
Sterling grins at Micky, patting his jacket. "Ain't left me possession all day," he drawls.
"I'll let him know," Micky says with a nod to Kethren before giving Leucohyle his best - not very good - innocent look. "You wasn't the her I was talkin' about." He offers up another nod to Sterling, "Smart."
Faux or not, Leu takes Micky's statement at face value. "Oh," she pipes, apparently giving no damns at all about who is -actually- being accused of tampering with PDAs. "Er well g-good evening then, sir," she says to James, raising a pale, ciruit-traced hand in a wave. She then immediately looks to Kethren. "Is is there anything else? May-I-return-to-the-labs?"
Sterling chuckles. "I had a feelin'," he tells Micky. He offers Leu a casual wave and a smile and heads over to a Hekayti kiosk and gets himself a basket of dried and/or fried meat bits.
Kethren shakes his head at Leu as he stands up "No, that was it really. Sorry it took so long... kinda need to get home, too." Then nods to Micky "Alrighty."
"There was something," starts Micky as he stares vaguely off into space. He eventually just shrugs before he heads out himself. First, though, he does say, "See ya'll around. Around an' 'round...never stopped rockin'...moon went down..."
Leucohyle crinkles her nose, slightly. "Er, don't... don't mind him he's engaging in alternative medicine." Carefully, as though trying not to touch too many things, she rises from her squeaky-clean chair and prepares to head for the shuttle bay.
Sterling carries his snacks out to the landing bay, glancing back over toward the others as he fishes one of the meat bits out of the basket and pops it into his mouth.
Kethren scratches Floriana distractedly as he picks up his PDA and starts shuffling towards the docking bay to catch a shuttle home from.