A Connected Past: Part 1

A Joint post by those titans of team tribulation Dr. Wowbagger (Adam)
and Joseph Severn (Tony – Keats)
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Wowbagger retraces his steps, but the blonde is now a minor, (RATS,
too late) so he passes, still considering Severn. Why pick him? Is it
his brilliance Severn picked up on? His ability to skirt the rules?
His full set of Craftsman® tools? Or perhaps… Yes, he thought he was
familiar…
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Severn whistled casually as he walked (with a slight strut) down to
Cargo bay 23. Hopefully, if all had worked out, his new little
project would be up and running in a few days. He ducked through the
door ad smiled. The plans were laid out on a work surface along with
several circuit boards and control gyros. Luckily, no-one ever came
down this way, and those that did usually couldn't understand his
scrawls that called themselves for lack of better words, 'blue
prints'. He fiddled with a control lever and waited....
That night, in a fitful sleep, Our Good Doctor was dreaming a dream
he one dreamed he would stop dreaming. He dreamt a remembered dream
of a few brief moments of anonymity in the service of the Space
Legion. He had found an extra Mega-computer. Well, not extra really,
but quite underused and probably not really to be missed if it could
be serapt away. He had debts and needed to pay them off. Certainly
this would do that and then some. But he could not manage by himself.
A competent engineer, great with locks, good with drives of all
sorts, he lacked a certain lack of finesse needed to move a computer
system the size of the mega. Graft he could do, but for the
ungraftable...the ungreasable...he needed someone with a bit less
finesse and bit less compunction and bit more muscle. Who was that
visiting UEMC repair fellow. He had heard stories. He knew from his
own practices, stories could not always, could nearly never, be
trusted. But somehow he trusted these. What was his name? Severe?
Sever? Something that boded well for this job. he could almost see
his face in the lucid dreamy gaze. Almost. Almost Something
familiar. Then he woke with a start. Extra Male Body! Extra? And he
knew. He knew who and he knew what for. It was all clear and he
didn't like it, but he could use it. it should cost and it would pay.
it would pay! And he popped another nickel.
Joseph, as usual, stayed on the coffee that night, preferring to
tinker with his latest craze. He admired the nights work. It was
small, not 2 inches high and made out of a similar metal to the Bugs,
but on a more compact scale. The Artefact resembled a bulky clawed
foot attached to a metallic leg, gyro-servos allowed the joints
freedom, placed inside was the foot of a Stretch Armstrong toy. His
cheeky, boyish and overall rubber grin made an otherwise heavily neo-
gothic piece of creation somewhat harmless. The more worrying thing,
however, would be that if anyone came down, the large scale picture
of a similar leg, about 1.4 meters in height. Roughly detailed and
scrawled with footnotes and ideas. Severn smirked, yawned and curled
up on a pile of top of him bearing the mark of the United Earth
Marine Core.
Ameda was up now with no returning to sleep. He wanted in. He wanted
in all the way. He might be able to clear enough to clear his debt.
Not that the JMC paid badly. he managed to work and pay his way up to
Chief Science Officer, but it wasn't as easy a job as laying on the
beach of Fushal. Watching the sheep swimming by. As long as he was
up, he might as well dive deep. He needed to find his stuff. His
contact book needed a new place to hide. He needed his tools, his
extra "keys" and he needed his Stretch Armstrong. Where the hell was
it. Under the bunk. Not there. Not there? Pushed against the wall?
No, not there. Gone. Certainly. He could feel it. Well, there was
nothing to do but go on and take care of business with his new
partner, willing pairing or not. he headed out the door. A few doors
down he nodded to the ladies returning from the nights reverie at
Parrots. They nodded back, eyes a little lower than normal. He
smiled. He turned around. He headed back to his quarters. Next time,
he noted. clothes. Clothes...
Severn rolled around. As he slept, a dream recorder picked out the
more interesting pieces and downloaded to his PDA, Faster than light
engine modifications, new weapon designs, a way to turn all matter in
a certain area into energy at a 100% efficiency, parts swam to form
ideas that would later be played with. the recorder encountered an
error. It wasn't sure whether to download it or not, so it played it
on the screen instead. It was from when he was an up-and-coming young
engineer. He had been sent along with a few others for some joint-ops
with the Space Legion. Their engineers had been killed on a raid, and
several of their ships and weapons were broken. So, it was the job of
the new guys to patch things together. and a chance for Severn to do
a little digging of his own. Word was out that the legion had
invented a 'Smart Gun'. One with a basic AI, this would allow it to
easily use FOF recognition to avoid friendly fire, lock onto targets
and evaluate strategies as well as crafting tools and ammo from local
sources. Basically, Severn wanted the plans, or at least a copy. It
would require bribes, knives and possibly some cabaret. Hence the
formal Jacket he was sheepishly holding as he disembarked a Skiff.
As he hurriedly searched for clothes, clothes that were not in the
process of developing their own cultures, he pulled together the
loose filaments of his dream, his memories and his downloaded files
from the mind-scans he performed on himself. He took a few moments
to review them, sitting at the terminal, filtering files for keywords
that would tie him to Severn. SEVERN, yes, that was his name. What a
wonder the unconscious mind is! Yes, he needed the muscle and the
experience. Experience he had not developed yet, not while in the
Space Legion. If he had , he'd not been in the predicament he which
predated, predicated his sudden, albeit short, enlistment. He needed
someone like Severn. All his time was spent in the confines of the
Space Legion lab. When his ability and expertise technologique had
been discovered, he was taken out of everything, taken off of
everything, taken away from everything and put in a room
to...think...tinker...build. So far, all he had managed to develop
was an AI gun. It would do the Space Legion some good and...with his
little code, he could always sell the key to overriding the FOF
Recognition. He never did finish it. The plans were "lost" when he
was "discharged." Lost. He padded the wall behind his terminal.
Behind it, the hollow which contained his papers, records, hardcopies
of what others consigned to bits and bytes. He patted the
plans...HIS plans for the Smart Gun. He was sure they would come in
handy. He got up and headed out. A few doors down, he had noticed
his shoe laces were untied. He heard chuckles behind him. He knew he
was forgetting something. Pants. Pants.
Severn rolled over and opened his eyes, glanced over the PDA list,
saved an interesting file on brain-to-AI nerve controllers, and
deleted the rest. Diminished world resources could take a flying leap
for all cared. He sat up, hovering in front of him was John's Mag,
Quilibet. It was time for his weekly check up. The Mag was a machine
designed to reflect the strengths of the owner and their mood, to
protect the owner anyway that they could and look like a casual pet.
The Mag used salvaged parts of 'The Gun' that had been destroyed for
frankly being as Jay had but it 'A bit of an arse'. So, when no-one
was looking, the CPU and transmitter were retrieved. Well, without
those 'The Endymion' would be useless. Well, more useless. He put the
screwdriver down, sealed the ferret back up and tickled him on the
stomach.
"Preeeeeee" it wriggled with glee, jumped onto the floor and darted
out of the cargo bay. Severn looked at the Stretch Armstrong and the
metal leg, picked it up and threw it against the wall and set fire to
the schematic. He needed to start again.
Back in his quarters, Our Good Doctor wondered. He wondred where his
pants were. In Maggy's quarters? Milly's quarters? Molly's or Mays?
Did he leave them down at the beach one day? Well, nevermind...he
had larger problems. It ocurred to him, perhaps his fire didn't do
all it was supposed to. Perhaps some of his plans were not as gone as
he might have thought. AN, perhaps, they were closer than he had
considered. Perhaps his new friend would be a better friend than he
had thought. After all, he suspected they had more incommon than he
had origianlly suspected and, he suspected. Severn was quite aware.
Quite. And, before reaching for a robe, he grabbed a coin from his
desktop and popped another nickel.
[Fin – for now, were gonna finish later]
OOC – This is a build up of our two characters relationship, please
read as it has some interesting tie-ins with the last 2 years of
dwarfing!