| abstract
| - Built within a blue-crimson trunk that bisects two cavernous respiration chambers within what amounts to the Yaralu's "chest," the Comorrite Hub is home to numerous bony nodes that serve as residential modules for the station's inhabitants. Many of them exhale carbon dioxide and other chemicals that the Yaralu can filter and recycle for its own respiratory system. It's a busy night, off in a corner of the Comorrite Hub, as a small number of the refugees gather together, with several tools and materials. Sandrim is leading them, with... some slight confusion as he holds a miniature aeroponics farm (complete with a parrot on top) in his hand for reference. "Okay... We have everything here?" Stretching, having just changed into his more casual clothes, Einor emerges from the node he calls his home to clop over towards the refugee section of Comorro. His smile is easy, his mien friendly as he nods to various faces along the way. Sandrim sets the model down thoughtfully, before pulling out some printouts, which are straightened out on a table. "Alright," he says to one of the foreman volunteers he managed to get to come up here. "You understand this a bit better than me. We need to get the... in...frastructure up first. The stakes go up one level at a time, swo we can make sure the pipes are all right." "Sandrim," Einor greets as he comes near, the wide strides of his hooved legs slowing. "You are beginning work on the hydroponics, then?" "Mm, well, the proper term for this sort is aeroponics, I think," Sandrim says, turning to give Einornesk a grin. "Hey there. Come by to give a bit of a hand?" "I'm not a gardener," Einor admits with a laugh and a shrug of great shoulders, "just a handyman. Yes... the little loudmouthed lady is sort-of paying me to help coordinate all of the construction here." Sandrim laughs at that. "Mm, I don't need a gardener," he says. "I have enough of those. I just need people who can build." He nods over to the workers, who are already laying out the bottom-most pipe. "Mm. Mostly, though, I'm worried about making sure we're hooking up to the right bits. See that boxy thing near them? It's what we had made to treat the waste brought through, make it useful. We just... need to have the waste flowing through it, as well as water." Einornesk turns, looking down at the box with a slow nod. "Well, have you hooked the pipes into a sewage tank? If not, I can run a line out over this way. There's one not too far from here, Comorro won't miss a bit of sludge." Sandrim blinks at that, then grins at Einornesk. "Haven't yet," he says cheerfully. "Just show me where to do it." "Come with me, then." Adjusting his spectacles with a little smile, Einor strolls back out of the refugee encampment and down the hall. "You'll probably want to hook it up to the refugee waste chambers, but they're not built yet, so... just down the hall..." Sandrim grins. "Well, we can move it later," he says, heading off after Einornesk at a jog. "So, uh, we're not likely to have any problems, right?" "That depends," Einor rumbles with faint amusement. "Were you at my seminar on -how- to build anything in a Yaralu, assuming you want walls?" Sandrim smiles sheepishly. "Well, not as such," he admits. "...Do you want walls, or anything like that?" Einor halts at a large panel on the floor, hunkering down. He slides his toolbag off his shoulder, beginning to unfasten bolts that hold it in place. Sandrim nods to Einornesk with a frown. "I imagine we do," he says. "More important are the platforms, though. It can grow out in the open, so long as we can reach it." "Then you will need some extra supplies." Einor grunts, prying the panel off the floor. Several nozzles and valves appear underneath, the Hekayti turning one of the valves to the right with a mighty wrench. "Attach your tubing to that," he instructs, pointing at a nozzle even as he gets to rummaging in his toolbag. Sandrim scrambles back to pick up the feeder tube, bringing it back to the waste nozzle. "Alright, then," he says, pushing it into place. "Mm. But, hmm. See over on the table? That's what it should look like. What do we need for walls? And water?" "Alladentium and Commocyte," Einor replies, pulling out a small laser and incising a hole big enough for Sandrim's feeder tube in the cover plate. "Alladentium is a scaffolding metal Comorro can absorb completely. Commocyte is a... natural material. You make an alladentium framework of the shape you want, walls or walkways or whatever, and as long as both ends attach to Comorro and it's coated in Commocyte, she'll grow in the shape you laid out. We can't set anchors deeper than a foot into the wall, so this is the best method for strong structures." Sandrim lets out a slow breath. "Right, then," he says with a grimace. "Where can we get those, then? We'll need it for the scaffolding." "There's plenty stored in a back corner of your refugee hub. You were allotted it along with the space." Einor carefully feeds the tube through the hole, reinstalling the panel. That makes Sandrim grin rather broadly. "Right then," he says. "I'll grab a few of the workers, and we'll see about moving it over this way. The scaffolding... is going to be pretty heavy, yes." And he takes off then, tagging the shoulders of a few lost Fastheldians along the way to help him out. Einornesk lags a little behind, taking the time to bolt the feeder tube to the wall so it's less likely to be stepped upon or ripped up. Only then does he follow Sandrim, explaining, "The alladentium's already cast into pipes with locking joints. Just set it about six inches into Comorro, assemble the full frame, paint it with Commocyte and give her about a week." Sandrim grunts as he picks up the tubing, looking over to Einornesk with a small grimace. "I see. So, we'll be growing on the Iuppiter a little while still. Not too bad, though." A hefty bunch is gathered in his arms, while his helpers do the same. "Okay, let's get a line moving here. We'll get everything in place, fast." Einornesk obediently trots over to help, opening up the buckets of Commocyte- which reek with an odor so alien it'd be hard to label it pleasant or unpleasant at first scent. He stirs up the thick, dark green liquid with a rod withdrawn from his toolkit. "No ingesting Commocyte, by the way. Very bad for you." "What /is/ Commocite?" Sandrim asks curiously as he walks for the build spot with his troop of workers. "It's like some Yaralu fertilizer?" "Basically, what it is is... 'baby' cells that grow into whatever their surroundings tell them to," Einor mentions offhandedly. "It's hard to explain, but it's sort of like liquid flesh of Comorro herself, mixed with nutrients to spur and speed growth." "Mm. Cell's another word for Yaralu?" asks the young man from the planet without modern scientific knowledge. "Well... all I really need to know, I guess, is that it makes the garden grow." "Cells are the building blocks that make up living things. It's complicated stuff I don't know a lot about," Einor admits, carelessly shrugging. "It makes the garden grow, and you should be careful with it. Too much and it burns." Sandrim blinks at that, then nods. "I will be," he promises, before he starts working with the other workers to lay things out. A Lunite is joining in now, one with more experience in this sort of thing as the lowest level of the farm itself is laid out. Einornesk goes around slathering Commocyte on the framework as they get it assembled, painting it with a hand well-used to this. The material is thick and gooey, and he puts it on quite lavishly. "This has a lot of advantages over metal walls. Will repair itself, and be good and thick." Sandrim hmms. "And it'll hold up people better as well?" he asks. "In the end, that's the important bit." "Yes. Because it will be very thick, and tough, it will have no problem supporting weight," Einor confirms with a nod. "I'm applying extra Commocyte in the hopes to make it extra extra thick." Sandrim grins broadly. "Great!" he says cheerfully as the first ramp up is started. "You know, this'll be a new experience. Never actually farmed like this before, on multiple levels instead of over a field." "New for me too, I've never built a farm." Einor chuckles genially, stopping in his painting to go in search of a ladder. Luckily the Commocyte seems to be rather fast-drying on the lower scaffolding, so it probably won't all drip off from the upper. Sandrim grins broadly. "Farms are nothing," he says. "I've done many of those in my time." He scampers around the bottom, making sure the stakes and tubing are all in place before he looks to the upper scaffolding, grabbing a ladder himself. Einornesk and Sandrim, ladders in hand, are moving back to the wide cavern given to the refugees for housing and hydroponics, where a team of other laborers is busy. They're all assembling a set of stakes and tubing of some odd orange metal into a framework, set against the organic wall. "And I've build many multi-layer structures in my time. How many people will this feed?" asks the massive Hekayti. Sandrim frowns as he moves around the structure. "Well, we're making it pretty big," he says. "And this is supposed to give us higher crop yield. I'm hoping we can get into the thousands, you know. Cut a big dent into what is needed to be brought in. Helps that it's sort of like a greenhouse, no winter." "Thousands... that'll make a dent, yes, but... there're still too many of you," Einor sighs, setting up his ladder and climbing to the top to slather higher levels of the structure with his bucket of Commocyte. "Still, I'm glad you're trying." Sandrim laughs. "Truth is, I don't know exactly how many we can feed with it," he says. "And there'll be more than just this one. There'll be more nearby, just a different type. I've never really /worked/ with aeroponics before." Marina is headed for the clinic! "More nearby?" Einor brightens at that, even as he continues with his somewhat disgusting work. "That's even better! Though it'd still be nice if some of you were looking into planets…" Sandrim frowns. "I think we are," he says as he continues on, up to the second level as he works around. "I would be, if I could, but I can't exactly steal Ruin's ship and head out after one." "I'm good!" Marina detours over to chat for a moment. "What are you doing up there?" "Have been since all of you showed up. Hello, little lady," Einor booms down at Marina with a friendly enough smile, despite his fearsome appearance. "Granted, I don't think it's just the refugees," Sandrim says with a frown, before calling down to Marina, "Trying to get the hydroponics farm set up! To feed the refugees, you know." "Ohhh..." Marina nods. "Well that's pretty interesting. Nutrition would help offset some of our problems. Whose your friend, Sandrim?" "I am Einornesk Verdikke. Handyman on Comorro," Einor introduces himself at a bellow down to the human woman, waving a spiked hand. "It's nice to meet you." He turns then to slather another layer of viscous snot-resembling Commocyte onto the framework. "Maybe not just, but..." Sandrim smiles wryly. "I won't defend some of them, but I won't defend some of the Lotorians I've seen either," he says. "Think you can help us out here?" he calls to Marina as he hurries around, making sure the tubes are in place. "There are printouts on that table down there, and a model by it." "Marina Brentworth," the woman says and waves...then nosewrinkles as the suggestion is offerd. "Do I have to play in the goo?" "I can handle all of the goo myself," Einor allows. "It's easier to smear Commocyte than it is to build the framework." Sandrim's point goes unanswered as the Hekayti deftly relocates himself to a different point of the structure. "Just need to lift the heavy stuff," Sandrim calls down cheerfully. "We're making good progress on it." Marina nods and goes to examine the blueprints. "Well, alright, but if the clinic needs me I'll have to go." "Help is appreciated, since this might feed you," Einor notes cheerfully, eyeing his work. He's done with all of the assembled framework, so he climbs off the ladder to begin a second coating on lower levels. "Of course," Sandrim calls in turn, as the second level is finished. "We'll need to go higher now. Third level up to the ceiling. By the way... you haven't seen any Fastheldian smiths with chewed up ankles in that clinic, have you, Marina?" Marina shakes her head. "Not me- but you know there's like six of us rotating through the clinic." She leafs through the rest of the plans. "What's his name, and I'll inquire. Also, what exactly shoudl I be doing?" "I'll get the extending ladder..." Einor scurries down, clopping off to do just that. "Mareten," Sandrim says as he drops down as well. "And... basically just placing the framework up as directed. It'll involve a bit of climbing." "Okay." So Marina gets to work- checking back to the instructions often. Einornesk reappears with a truly massive ladder, which he handles effortlessly. Setting it against the wall, he climbs up the way up to the top levels, beginning to dedicate himself to them. "You're looking for a smith with chewed-up ankles...?" "That doesn't sound good," Marina notes. "If he's ill, he should still be in the clinic. These conditions are too ripe for an epidemic- too many new people and close quarters." "I hope we can't spread diseases to each other." Einor sounds actively alarmed at the thought, even as he deftly 'walks' the ladder along the framework as it's assembled. "Wouldn't that have shown by now?" Sandrim asks curiously, fitting pieces into place. "I mean, like she said, everyone so close." "Strictly speaking, there are very few natural occurrences of disease that cross species. But there are a large number of humans here with completely different exposures and immunity levels. We need to monitor the situation. And no- not exactly." Marina shakes her head at Sandrim, "it can take weeks to establish a pattern, particularly with the archaic medical equipment." She nods an apology to Einor. "We're fairly similar-looking to you as well, other than the obvious." Obvious goat legs, hooves, horns, whatever Einor's referring to, who can say? "Are there not diseases that cross between... species that are close to each other?" "It seems rather advanced to me," Sandrim murmurs, the last bits of the upper tier being put into place, as well as the lights that will shine down on it all. "I think one of my pets when I was a kid caught a cold I had. It died faster than the others." "It doesn't happen very often but yes- it is possible. Part of my job is to monitor that, but it would be best if people are...overly cautious with their health." Marina shrugs. "They would have to stop beating each other up first," Einor opines with a snort, climbing down off his ladder to extend it to full height so he can handle those uppermost walkways. Marina just chuckles. "I know," Einor mutters, shifting the ladder to reach another part of the scaffolding. "I just want my home back." "So do we, really," Sandrim says, walking over to where the nurseries are being set up. These are all ground level, and really, much easier to build up. Marina pauses for a moment to lean off the edge of the scaffolding. "Ooooo yes. Well, we have hope." Einornesk doesn't answer, occupied as he is much higher up. Finally, though, he's climbing down the ladder. "Are there any possible ways you might return to your times?" Sandrim frowns as he continues his work. "Einor... I don't even know when my time was." "Tharsis is working on it," Marina replies at the same time. "...I guess that would make it hard," Einornesk notes quietly Sandrim's way, voice sympathetic. "Tharsis, little lady?" "That's their ship," Sandrim replies, stepping away from the nurseries now. "It talks." "He's alive. Like...like Comorro, except on a much less sophisticated scale," Marina adds. "Ohhh. Huh." Einor's smile is curious as he wanders over to the buckets of Commocyte, sealing them up. "It might be interesting to meet him. Is that all you needed done for construction, Sandrim?" Sandrim wipes his brow, then grins. "I think that's it for today. Thanks, Einor." Marina begins climbing out of the workings. "I'd be happy to introduce you, Mister Einornesk." "Might be good some day. If we are done for tonight, though... I am going to hose myself down and get some sleep. Get me if anything goes wrong with the Commocyte," Einor suggests to Sandrim, scratching his bald head with his knucklespikes. "Nice to meet you, little lady." "I will," Sandrim agrees. "Take care, Einor."
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