Race Against Time: Ongoing Mission

[voidtreckermods]

Once the training is over people can get to work pretty quickly, there is plenty to be done both out in the world and back at the hub for those not too keep on jumping straight in to a strange volcanic planet with creatures that probably want to eat them.

Hub

The underground hub is a centre of activity. It turns out there isn't all that much fuel for shuttles to get back up to the space station so trips are rationed, they will hold villagers and lindusi until they have full shuttles and then send them up. So the hub is busy with scientists, lindusi in holding pens and as the week goes on villagers who may not be too impressed with the evacuation.

There is food, usually large pots of soup that can be reheated whenever people are around. Though some heavier meals are provided at set times the people leading the evacuation are keen not to let any of their helpers, or those they are rescuing, starve.

Sleeping rooms hold bunk beds, usually around eight a room but as the hub fills up space gets limited. Sharing beds or sleeping on the floor may become necessary.

For those hanging around the hub as the week goes on there is plenty to do, small jobs, entertaining village children, logistics, communication. Or they can find a quiet place to rest before going back out on their mission.

Red

The skies are heavy with debris, both from space and the volcanic ash and rocks from the planet itself. The fighter craft are not difficult to pilot but nor are they easy. They cannot be piloted by one person, unless that person has four arms and space in the cockpit is tight for two people.

It's difficult work and it is probably good for everybody that the craft only fly for six hours before recharging, it means they have to work in shifts, and rest when they are not in the sky. The pilots from the world are generally friendly, if very focused.

Purple

Flying bubble pods around what seems like an apocalyptic wasteland may seem surreal and that's before they even get to the villages. The villages are mostly underground, bunkers where groups of people shelter. There are a range of ages. Some villages come easy, some do not. Diplomacy is key.

Watch out for falling rocks, rogue lindusi and angry villagers, all are threats that have to mitigated. As the week goes on the villagers get more stubborn, the earthquakes get more frequent and the villagers that are waiting to be taken off world get more impatient. It's a tough job.

Orange

The lindusi are scattered across the island. Mostly as far away from volcanoes as possible though there are a few that seem too curious for their own good.

The trucks to hold the lindusi in are kept in a central point in an area whilst the groups go out to try and round as many up as possible. The voidtreckers are encouraged to stick together as they don't know the area or threats very well.

Blue

The Blue team are to protect the scientists, both those collecting plants and other life samples and those with Orange rounding up Lindusi. Once they have the hang of the shield devices it's just a case of sticking close by, keeping both eyes open and being quick to activate shields whenever there is a threat.

There are plenty of threats, it's one thing this island has in abundance.

Comments

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin just smiles when his father shakes his head. Oh yes, a fine example of the image of a Noldorin prince!

"Sorry I'm late today, I found even more of the really big lindusi than I did yesterday, and I had to wrangle them all. But yes, it was fun." Another engaging grin. He laughs when his father comes near and tries to comb his hair. Well, it's a little bit of an improvement.

"You'd like some help from me? I'd be happy to help. You know how I love devices and machines." It's true that if the Elves had made the flying crafts themselves, they'd be nigh indestructible. Even if the sky was throwing rocks at them. And Curufin certainly does suspect that Fëanor is one crazy pilot. Curufin would be the same, if he had drawn that duty.

"I can take a break from the lizards. I did come back here to do just that. So, what would you like me to do? In the first world I lived in after I left our own, I helped a friend build an airship. Luckily, she was able to teach me what I needed to know, and also, the settlement we lived in had a library with a lot of battered old books, but I was able to use the science texts to teach myself basic electricity and electronics, and modern mechanics. So I do come prepared." Yet another smile. "Want me to give the engine a going-over?"

[tinkerheart]

Fëanor laughs. "Oh, I remember."

There were many reasons why Curufin was always his favorite. They shared not only interest in the craft and love for the forge. Fëanor could see his best qualities reflected and refined in his son and that made him incredibly happy and proud. Still, Curufin remained very much his own person. Strong and independent, just like his father. Fëanor loves all his children but he'll always treat Curufin a little bit special. To counter all the crazy he got from him. It can't be helped.

So it should come as no surprise that he would fuss over him even now. Especially, now.

"What I want you to do is to go take a shower, eat something, get some rest, and then you can come back and help me."

When it comes to eating and resting Fëanor would do well to heed his own advice. He barely slept at all and his last meal was a bowl of soup and some bread that Sarai brought for him and Tony and that was ... some time ago.

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin laughs too. It's true that they shared a love of the crafts, particularly the forge. In spite of all the trouble they had encountered or caused, the bond between the two of them had held, and Curufin had not forgotten it after his father's death.

Curufin is affected by his father's fussing over him; he can't help it, it touches him deeply.

"All right, if you insist, Father! I'll go grab a bite to eat, then jump in the shower and wash off all the grime, and then I'll dive into one of those bunks in the back. For half an hour at least." Another smile. "On one condition. That you do the same." Yes, he can see that Fëanor hasn't slept lately and probably hasn't bothered to eat properly. Like father, like son!

[tinkerheart]

Fëanor had ship's hull to separate him from the falling ash while he was outside. Still getting elbow-deep into the metal guts of any machine is never a clean job.

"Insist I do," he starts serious but then bursts into laughter again. Oh, Curufin. You've seen right through him! He drops the engine cover down and cleans his hands with a piece of rag.

"Your conditions are harsh but fine, I agree. Let's find ourselves a proper meal first."

He could use some food. Now, that he finally pays enough attention to realise that.

[so_dark_a_road]

Getting into the guts of a machine is guaranteed to cover you and your clothing with grease. Curufin grins at his father, acknowledging yet another thing they have in common. Aristocrats of the Noldor clan they may be, but clothing be damned when there is something interesting to be investigated or repaired!

He laughs along with Fëanor. Of course I've seen right through you! We're so alike in so many ways.

"A meal sounds fine," he agrees, "despite the harshness!" He leads the way to the area of the Hub that is in use as a cafeteria. Huge pots of soup are simmering and there are platters of freshly-baked bread, hunks of cheese and other finger-foods, and stacks of plates and bowls and silverware and trays. Curufin goes to a soup pot, grabs the dipper, fills two bowls and puts them on trays, and then they choose other foods as well. Oh, and there is coffee and tea! They take their food to one of the long tables.

"So, how's flying the fighter-craft? I'd envy you, but I'm having so much fun with the lindusi." Another grin.

[tinkerheart]

Coffee might be a bad idea if they intend to attempt sleep later on so Fëanor goes with tea and against his usual preference. The food is simple but tasty and filling. Considering that everything must be shipped down here from the orbit under constant threat of the asteroids, ash filling the air and the planet exploding, the fact they keep the kitchen operational is a feat in itself.

"It's more entertaining than I thought at first. So I think I'll leave the lizards to you." He had enough of stubborn animals on the last mission. "The craft itself could use improvements. I was able to fix some of the most jarring issues but not all. The range is still quite poor, the ash makes it even worse, and clearly it has been designed for a different type of pilot. That makes steering rather awkward at times."

Flying is fun but making this thing fly faster, longer and more reliable, that's what really fun.

[so_dark_a_road]

Being less sensible about the coffee than his father is, Curufin fills his cup with the bitter brew. They sit down and eat while they're talking. Curufin would agree it is astonishing that the kitchen in the Hub is so well supplied.

He has to laugh at his father's remark about the fighters being entertaining. "Okay, we'll divide up the tasks. You get to make insane forays into the celestial realms and I get to be a suicidal zoo-animal collector."

He considers the flying craft. "I wonder if any of those issues could still be dealt with? The ash in particular seems a hazard to flying. I take it the engines suck air in and blast it out jet style? Or if they work on a different principle, they must still have some sort of air intake, if only for cooling purposes, and that means a possibility of getting clogged up by the ash particles. And what type of pilot do you think the craft was made for?"

[tinkerheart]

One moment Fëanor is laughing with Curufin, the next his face goes completely white. He tenses, fingers gripping the spoon with the force that threatens to break it as if it was glass, not steel. It's a moment, a blink of an eye, then he takes a breath and manages to shove the memory of the fall and the fire away. Somewhere deep into the darkness where keeps all his horrors.

"I fully support you in your zoo-animal collector activities," he says quietly "but please leave the suicidal part out of it completely."

Your father knows you love everything risky and you laugh in the face of danger, Curufin, but don't you ever as much as joke about killing yourself. Everything else is fair game but not that. Just not that. The mere thought of losing any of you again...

Mercifully he can hide behind the change of subject.

"I can tell that craft overheats slightly when it's longer in the air so I'd wager it is indeed the cooling system." He even manages to smile. "The scientists call them Gubita people."

It was only after the teams separated that the scientists told them who they got the flying crafts from.

"They told us the Gubita have four arms, hence the need for two-person teams if anyone else other than them were to operate those crafts. The fighters themselves were a gift so they didn't have much say what they are getting. I think they were grateful they got anything at all."

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin sees his father's face go white and his fingers gripping the spoon with ferocious force. He hadn't meant to evoke the horrors of the Fëanorians' fall, but he had spoken without thinking, and for that he was sorry. Maedhros had died by suicide. And it might justifiably be thought that the attack on Doriath had been a suicidal mission. That hadn't been Curufin's intention at the time, but by then, the disasters of those years and the corrupting influence of the Oath had so taken their toll on his spirit that he had wondered if in fact, death might be the sanest goal imaginable.

"All right, I won't joke about suicide," he agrees, quietly.

And he's glad to change the subject.

"All right, then I'll take a look at the cooling system when we go back out to the flying craft. Maybe it can be adjusted to deal with this planet's atmosphere better, or maybe the filters just need frequent cleaning. The original pilots are called the Gubita people? Four arms?? Well, that would be an advantage in the cockpit!" He laughs and mimes reaching for buttons, switches, and the joystick or collective with more than two arms. "I guess they were lucky these four-armed pilots were willing to part with their old flying vehicles. If it requires that somebody be airborne to protect others engaged in the ground mission, then we all have reason to be grateful."

He sips his coffee and feels the rush of energy it brings. Not that he doesn't have plenty of that already -- too much, some would say! -- but he likes the caffeine rush.

[tinkerheart]

None of this is Curufin's fault. Fëanor is well aware that his son has a bit morbid sense of humor. It pairs well with his own biting sarcasm. It runs in the family. Nothing to hold against him. Just the topic being unfortunate.

"So I was told. The craft makes much more sense when you keep that in mind."

He laughs at Curufin's impression of a Gubita pilot but frowns at his choice of drink. Coffee, really?.

"Cooling systems later, I'd like you to sleep first and this coffee is not going to help."

He knows you like it but not right before you're suppose to get rest and not run around like a hyperactive ferret.

[so_dark_a_road]

It's true that Curufin's humor is sometimes dark humor. It does run in the family. And besides that, his sense of humor owes much to the Wars of Beleriand and all the years in between when there was constant skirmishing on the Marches. Hundreds of years of death and destruction. If he hadn't laughed, he'd have gone insane.

"Let's see what we can do with the engines after our snack and nap." He laughs when his father laughs. Curufin was definitely trying to entertain him.

He makes a face when Fëanor frowns at the coffee. Still being funny. "All right. I'll hide this cup under my bunk so nobody finds it and drinks it instead of me." He mimes stowing it under the bunk and then flings his arms out as though to prevent a sneaky person from thieving it from him. Imaginary swords in both hands and a humorous snarl on his lips.

Curufin likes being a hyperactive ferret. But all right, he'll defer that till later.

[tinkerheart]

There are less healthy ways of coping with hurt and stress. Dark humor is actually a world of improvement over Fëanor's usual reaction. But dark humor aside, Curufin has a true talent for comedy, he always had. The twins absolutely adored him for that. So whenever he makes an attempt at entertaining his father it is a complete success every single time. Fëanor is laughing so hard at the coffee pantomime that they both start to draw attention from the other tables. And a lot of curious looks from all the children present.

"I'm far from trying to deprive you of your coffee. That would be criminal. I just want you to get a chance at rest," he says when he's finally able to calm down enough to speak, his shoulders still shaking.

All this is true. Curufin should know well he is his father's favorite hyperactive ferret. Fëanor would never want him to change. Ever. He just worries.

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin is delighted at his father's response to the coffee defense theatrics. Just as he was always delighted when Fëanor or the twins or any of the rest of the family were entertained by his spontaneous comedic routines. The laugher does indeed draw attention from others in the cafeteria, adults and children, and Curufn grins at them.

He can't help laughing as well, when his father jokes about the criminality of depriving his son of his coffee. "You're right, though. I probably wouldn't sleep at all if I drank too much of the evil brew. I'll grab another cup of the stuff when I wake up. Meantime, we'd better eat, so we'll have enough energy to tackle those engines."

He picks up his spoon, raises it in a salute, and starts to eat his soup. He picks up a slice of bread and bites into it. "Hmmm, not bad."

wrap?

[tinkerheart]

Food. Right. He almost forgot about it. That the soup hasn't gone cold yet can only be attributed to the ambient temperature of the base being quite high on its own.

When they finish there is no other excuse to stall the long deserved rest. There are no luxuries in the base for anyone but there are beds and blankets in a space with lights dimmed enough that sleep is possible for all, not only the most exhausted.

As he drifts out of conciousness Fëanor tries to remember when had he laughed like that last time. It's been long. Far, far too log.

Wrap!

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin walks with his father to the sleeping area and climbs into the cot beside his father's. He pulls the blankets up, grins at his dad and then pulls the covers over his head.

The coffee doesn't keep him awake long, and the stillness of his body gives his mind a chance to stop running like that proverbial hyperactive ferret.

He, too, feels the lingering delight of their joking and their raucous laughter. He's looking forward to more of the same in the future. He conks out and sleeps until it's time to get up and work on those engines. His sleep is short but profoundly refreshing.