| abstract
| - Off toward the far, far port, in the darkest corridors of the honeycombed caverns where Comorrites seldom tread, lies that which the station has allowed for the refugee settlement. A makeshift workstation has been erected in a clearing - little more than a dinged-up card table with a holographic emitter displaying a schematic - and it is there that Mika stands with Einornesk, fiddling with the controls until the device is at its brightest. Einornesk looks to be somewhat possessed by dread, the great muscles of his throat frequently working in a reflex motion and the fearsomely spined spectacle of his hands, stuffed with well-worn notecards, trembling. The Hekayti simply stands there, doing little for the moment before staring at the audience as one might view a firing squad (and making Mika look tiny). Tamila makes her way into where the conference is being held and lingers at the back of the room -away from the door. She slips her hand into her jacket, before withdrawing a rather slim looking PDA. She leans up against what could be the back wall and watches Einornesk and Mika intently. From the makeshift tent that Athear has been sharing with the past few weeks, the Palisadian peeks his head out at all the hustle and bustle of those gathered. Curious, he grabs up the old PDA he had managed to trade and appears to move toward the group gathered. If it looks like what he think it might be, he'll be ready to take notes. Alastair is coming to the makeshift meeting area from the equally makeshift refugee clinic. Leaning on his cane, as is usual lately, he makes his way over and looks for a seat in the first spot he can find that seems to have a good view of the speakers. At first, it's as if Mika takes no notice of those joining them near the table; she continues twisting dials and punching buttons until the hologram is just-so. Upon closer inspection, it is a wireframe crissed-crossed with lines of varying colors - translucent greens shot with bold red, blue, yellow, and black - and the second screen she brings up renders it all fully lifelike and three-dimensional in comparison. It is the foundation for the colony. "'lo kids," she greets with all the nonchalant lack of formality of one truly unqualified to be leading any sort of Q&A session, "I'm-- uh, me name's Mika, an' um, this 'ere's th' Big Guy, an' really I'm jus' kinda in th' jolly ol' way 'ere so I'll jus'--" A step is sort of taken aside, as if to indicate that the Hekayti has the stage. "-- yeah, um, 'e's gonna show us 'ow, y'know, um, I mean th' bes' way ta-- ta buil' our wotsits 'ere an' such." Einornesk swallows one more time, and shuffles a little closer to the middle of the stage. He adjusts his spectacles, clearing his throat- a vast rumbling sound that rolls out over the audience. "A-hem. Er. Yes. Ah.... my name is Einor. Einornesk. I'm, ah, very glad all of you have come.... because..." A patently obvious look down at his notecards. "It shows a... a dedication to learning about... the responsible way of working with Comorro, which is great for both... natives and, uh, refugees alike. Anyway." He looks up at the hologram, nodding slightly. "This is a diagram of the particular section of Comorro we'll be working with, and, uh, before I get into details, there's one really important point to make: Comorro is alive." He pauses, perhaps to let the obviousness sink in. Tamila remains in silence, her eyes shifting from Mika when she finishes speak towards Einornesk. She slowly nods, but mainly keeps quiet as the presenter does his talk. A faint look of concentration forms on her brow. Not one to interrupt, Athear already has his stylus in his hand, beginning to take notes down on his PDA, who he has periodically thawp with an open palm to make the screen stop flickering. "Uh." The voice is gruff, and perhaps ill-suited for technical questions. It comes from somewhere near the back of the crowd, from someone who obviously isn't quite tall enough to see over all the heads, and see the entirety of the presentation. "We got that part. But where's the stuff we're not supposed to blowtorch?" asks the voice. "You know, the ... dangly bits an' such." There's a moment's pause. "Are they dangly bits or, you know, woman parts?" Mika nods along with Arnassis's question, brow knitting as she perches upon the edge of the table. "Uh, yeah, wot th' meat'ead said," she chimes in. "'ow do we kill it? I mean, not that... not that... not that I wanna, y'know, kill Comorro -- I DON'T!" she offers up to the ceiling, and thus, to the Yaralu by proxy. "'ow do we not kill 't?" Ruin slips in, hands in his pockets, looking around as if checking to make sure he's got the right room. Or node. Or something. Coming across the schematic, he looks it over curiously. Soon enough there will be something, probably... "That -is- the point I'm introducing," Einor huffs at the voice in the back of the crowd, adjusting his spectacles. "With metal, when you make a mistake, it doesn't die. Of course, it would be very hard for any of us to kill Comorro, but there are still several safety procedures to keep in mind." He sets aside his note cards to pick up a small remote-like device, clicking; the hologram zooms in to show a detailed schematic of the station's wall. "See that foot of relatively empty green space? That is protective tissue with no nerve endings. We can sink pipes, valves, anything into that space. But any deeper and you risk damage. That is the first law of working with Comorro- any deep-tissue projects need special approval. "With the mention of blow torches," Tamila says in a loud, crisp and professional tone. "What exactly is the flashpoint of Comorro's internal protective... I don't know, membrane?" She glances in the direction of the person who spoke about the woman parts and she shakes her head. Then back towards the presenter once more. "In the case of combustion, what is the best way to put out fires affecting such areas? Or will Comorro handle such events herself?" The look of concentration is still on her brow, but she still hasn't typed in anything PDA in hand. Ren Arnassis glares back at Tamila defiantly. "I know how I'd handle some uppity cat-eared girl with a blowtorch workin' on my innards," he mutters. "Due to the water content of Comorro's flesh, it is very hard to set her on -fire-," Einor notes. "Though any incisions you do should be cauterized to make sure the flesh doesn't regrow over them. The conduits that we use to keep ourselves supplied with fresh water are the best way to handle any accidental combustion. You can find them by looking for dark-walled tubing close to the surface, it feels more flexible than the actual flesh." He indicates the schematic again, and the blue lines on it- the only sort of line near the wall's surface- are highlighted. "The water tubes have round valves set into the wall in most places and hoses attached, easy to find." Content to introduce another salvo into the already rapid-fire crossfire of questions, Mika just plows right along the second Einornesk is done speaking. "Where d'we get 'pproval? From Comorro? Or-- uh, y'know. Does she 'ave parasites 'r anythin'? Can we like, I dunno..." She gropes for the word with her dead hand. "... get sick if she's sick?" Ruin finds a seat, eyeing the schematic. "Assume we want to work on existing projects to get a feel for proper procedures and what's currently possible. What projects are currently in progress, and who heads them?" "Not to worry, you've already got parasites," Ren chimes in loudly. "You need permission from Comorro herself to dig more than a foot in," Einor agrees, nodding his horned head- seemingly much more at ease with this question-answer format. At least, he doesn't look quite so terrified. "You should very rarely need to, though. There are very different procedures for making walls and things like that, which I will explain later, so you don't need anchors like you might be used to. You cannot catch any of her diseases, for what are probably obvious reasons. Parasites may occasionally be encountered in the digestive tract, but security takes care of them regularly." He pauses to take a breath before adding, "The only current projects are the hydroponics bay and converting this space into a living area, as far as I am aware. Comorro was already fitted for modest inhabitation a long time ago, and we hadn't gone beyond that." Ren is ignored with quiet scholarly dignity. Tamila smiles sweetly back towards Ren, as she most likely noticed the glare from the older man. She even offers a finger waggle, before looking back to the group as they speak, then are answered. "Second thing I'd like to ask, is how strong are Comorro's walls. I do understand that they're strong to survive the day to day living that space has to offer. But in the event of something like... Let's say a terrorist faction, for instance, detonating a high yield device inside of Comorro. Would a high powered concussion wave cause hemorrhaging or tearing of vital organs inside of her? What about a plasma cutter going critical inside of this cavity?" "More important, how long does Comorro's hospitality extend?" Ren chimes in. "I don' see the point of lettin' you gearheads get us too comfy if we're just gonna get kicked out in a week anyhow." Ruin slants a frowning, steady stare at Tamila, as if checking boxes off a mental list. Frighteningly, Mika fires back in all seriousness at her longtime enemy, "They're not parasites," and totally fails to elaborate before glancing over to ruin. "You guys are in charge o' th' garden. Me an' this big ol' bloke 'ere are in charge o' th' buildin'. Silvereye's our uh, our um, our project 'ead an' PR." Well, thank god she's not her own PR. "In the event of a terrorist faction detonating a high yield device inside Comorro, they would all be trampled by angry Hekayti, taken apart bit by bit by Lotorians, or simply absorbed into the nutrient matrix," Einor rumbles, focusing on Tamila with a glowering frown. "...but... high-yield explosives could well damage her. The problem is size. I will not clarify what it'd take, but it would take an astounding amount of explosives to make any structural damage that would matter to *her*. And Comorro is going to let as many of you stay as will behave and her resources can allow. We're still working on figuring out how many that is." "Maybe we should narrow it down by kickin' out the crotch-rot," Ren suggests, sidling out from behind one of the Vollistans to shoot Mika a look. Ruin turns his attention to the task at hand. "What are the power sources and power conduits of Comorro?" he asks calmly. "If I need to power something, what's available, in what form?" Tamila offers an apologetic smile as she gets frowns directed at her and she sticks her tongue out at Ruin. "I have no intentions of trying to be completely honest," she tells Einor. "I see Comorro sort of like an nice old lady that's neutral to everyone. Except that she'll eat you if you do something really bad. Just like ol' Ma Thompson." She then looks towards Ren and she snickers. "You know, you can get a ointment for that," she helpfully provides. "A very good question." Einor brightens visibly at that, calling up a picture on the hologram of what looks to be a rectangular plate pressed into a patch of nigh-black wall, configured with many sets of slots and holes. "The surface layers of flesh have another function beyond protecting the deeper layers from injury. There are darker patches you will see sporadically that are are composed of electrocytes, cells with a negative charge on one side and a positive charge on the other. Comorro secretes a solution into them that produces energy. Within these patches we set these power outlets, which can charge many sorts of electrical devices. You have five such patches in the area allotted to you." He nods approval Tamila's way. "There's no bloody ointment fer wot 'e's got," Mika grumbles with no lack of unease, visibly tensing at either the old marine or the Vollistan - or both, given the disapproving looks shot between the two. She tries to shake it off, but here gaze still hangs for too long a moment before it peels away to Einornesk. "Wot 'bout waste disposal? An' recyclin' resources?" Ruin makes a note, nodding. "I'm guessing that phrases like 'direct current', 'alternating current', and 'voltage' are going to be a bit blurred by whatever's letting us talk at all," he muses. "But if there's records kept on power availability, I'd like copies just to compare the notes, please." Ren Arnassis gives Mika a stony-faced look before returning his attention to Einor. "Say somethin' big an' scary comes along and blows a hole in Comorro's hull. How's this ship gonna let us know what's gonna get spaced and what's gonna get saved?" Silvereye steps out of the levimodule and heads towards the refugee enclave, looking over the screen of his PDA. "Those records can be provided. We will send along any of the technical specs with numbers to anyone who asks- this is more meant to give you the general information," Einornesk chuckles, folding his massive spiked hands on the lecturn. "Waste disposal... Comorro is a very different being than us with very different nutritional needs. Typically, what we do is feed all of our non-biological waste and all of our solid biological waste after processing directly into her nutrient matrix. She tends to absorb a lot of things that we wouldn't. The rest is often used in combustion for fuel." He squints at Ren's question, noting, "Very few things are capable of hurting a Yaralu. But, if such a thing would happen, she would tell us over the intercoms. She can speak into any part of her body except the Forgotten Quarter." Ruin takes a few more notes on his PDA. "One more power question. Are any of these energy-access points available in the docking bay? I'd have to knock together a converter, I'm sure, but if the ships can draw on Comorro's energy it'll conserve what's left of their fuel reserves." "If something like the Old Man's big scary thing comes along," Tamila says, speaking up once more as she nods towards Ren. "I might provide a free consultancy for breaking the back of whatever it might be." She then drops back into silence, and her attention returns to her PDA as she concentrates again. Einornesk has to look down at the small device he holds and press a few buttons to get an answer to that- calling up a schematic of the docking bay, with the power points glowing golden. "Looks like forty-five. Comorro can't support the ships indefinitely- I'm sure they provide a bigger drain on the outlets than most things we attach. But we can help, briefly." He smiles quite approvingly at Tamila this time, tapping his knuckle-claws against each other. "It's good to hear you people talking of giving back." "Yeah, well, we just came from a fuckin' trans-universal apocalypse, pal," Ren replies to Einor, darkly but without malice. "Excuse me for bein' in a worst-case frame of mind." He's silent for a moment, then: "An' what part of Comorro's body is the Forgotten Quarter, exactly? Why the hell are we callin' it forgotten when we all remember exactly where it is? The whole thing don' make no sense. Why not just call a spade a spade an' rename it the shit-stinkin' quarter." His voice trails off into an incoherent grumble and finally to silence once more. Mika nods along with Ruin. "I'd like a copy o' those wotsits, too. 'ell, if we can make 'em readily 'vailable ta all th' workers..." she trails off with a slight shrug, considering the thought while scratching at her jaw, and then rolls her eyes as Ren's ranting fills the silence. "Speakin' o' spades, I've uh, I've foun' that one good crack with one right 'cross th' bloody mouth takes care o' that one," she remarks to Einor of the Lunite. Silvereye quietly integrates himself with the group around the holo, focusing on Einornesk's presentation of Comorro's insides. Ruin eyes Einor thoughtfully. "If you would, then, would you make us aware of Comorro's limitations and needs? It's possible we *can* help, but it will go faster with guidance. This," and he indicates their surroundings, "is completely new to us, and so any offer of assistance is pure and hopeful guesswork. That needn't be the case." Einornesk squints at Ren. "I am sure parts of your anatomy stink too," he remarks mildly. "Be constructive, or kindly shut up. Anyway! I feel that I should probably discuss modifying walls at the least. The easiest way to remove pre-existing walls that are less than a foot thick- any thicker than that should not be removed without consulting Comorro- is to blowtorch them clear from the main walls where they connect, roll them up, and put them in the nutrient matrix. Once you have a space as open as you desire it, Comorro's body can be coaxed to grow more permanent walls by a process that is half biology and half engineering." He pauses to address Ruin, noting, "The specs will include the maximum safe draw on Comorro's power and water systems." "I don' think he got the picture," Ren says to Mika, lifting his chin. "Why don't you demonstrate." The middle finger of his right hand -- he's only got four on that one, counting the thumb -- twitches reflexively. To Einor, he says, "I had meant to ask what part of Comorro's body the forgotten quarter is, exactly. There don't seem to be any rules at all as far as buildin' there is concerned." Tamila nods in agreement to Ruin's comment. Then at the mention of the blowtorch, she looks back towards Einor with a great deal of interest. The bickering between Ren and Mika is ignored. "We got al-l-l-l-l that covered, Roo ol' lad," Mika sing-songs cheerily to the Osirian. "All's we need's yer brain an' yer know-'ow an' yer jolly ol' magic garden." Her lips spread into a great big grin for him, fading incrementally only when the other Lunite present pipes up with his usual vitriol The rogue's comeback is a real zinger: she darkens her brow and opens her mouth to return volley, only to abort haltingly and toss her head. Feel the burn, Ren. "I figured that was your question. I don't want to answer anything that is phrased insultingly to Comorro," Einor rumbles to Ren. "The answer is that Yaralu grow, and their outer skin is extremely hard to deal with vacuum- like a shell. When they grow large enough, they begin to generate a new shell with room to grow. When this skin is finished, the Yaralu will shortly thereafter crack their former shell and absorb it back into their nutrient matrix. However, young Yaralu can sometimes grow so quickly that smaller shells are not absorbed, they just remain wholly lodged, forgotten. Such is the Forgotten Quarter, and that is its name." Ren Arnassis pulls out his PDA as Einor speaks, and looks down at it when he's done speaking. "Mm," he says, his brow knitting. "Thanks." He glances to Ruin, then to Einor, and back to Ruin. "I'm needed downstairs," he tells Ruin, quietly. "You know how to find me." Brow furrowed worriedly, he moves to leave, not even giving Mika another glance. Silvereye blinks at Einornesk. "So, the Forgotten Quarter...That's how big Comorro was at one time?" Ruin nods to Ren. "A report later would be nice," he says quietly, and turns his attention back to his notes. "The garden plans are underway, Mika. Sandrim has been very helpful." Tamila arches a brow before glancing back down to her PDA with another look of concentration. "Interesting," she remarks softly, in a voice somewhere between awe and disgust. The grey suited woman drops back into silence. "I'm not much for reports since I left the marines," Ren says to Ruin, "but if you buy me a beer I'll tell you about it." He nods once to the younger man and is gone. "Yes," Einornesk confirms to Silvereye, grinning. "Once, even Comorro was small. Eighty-five million years ago, perhaps. But, I should continue about wall-building before I forget!" He clicks his little remote, and a schematic appears on screen- a framework of some odd orange metal, constructed between two of the larger walls of Comorro. "To shape a space, what you do is build a framework for the shape you desire out of alladentium. Don't worry, we have stockpiles for your effort. Once the framework is constructed, you need to load it down with a special mixture of living cell lines, nutrients, and other chemicals." Another button-press, and now the framework in the hologram is smeared with green goo. "Comorro's rate of growth is unbelievable to us, because of the difference in size- a framework prepared like so, after one week..." One last button-press, and what appears to be a fully sturdy wall in the shape of the framework, mottled green and brown, has replaced it. "A serviceable wall made of nerveless protective tissue." Ruin nods. "...Need it be a wall shape?" he asks. "Or can we rig the structure in any shape so long as it connects to Comorro?" Mika knuckles at an eye, likewise content to let the old codger go without comment. "Allawhozium? Is that-- where can we fin' that other'n Comorro? Where's it manufactured?" She drops her hand to lean over and squint at the changing display. "Bloody blinkin' 'ell. That cocktail 'xclusive ta 'ere, too?" "As long as both ends connect to Comorro, the flesh will grow in any shape you design," Einor confirms with a nod. "The reason for the use of alladentium is that it contains only materials Comorro can digest. So the framework is slowly broken down into food for the newly growing tissue, allowing the wall to be strong and healthy." Looking to Mika, he nods. "The cocktail is produced by Comorro herself, as it's made out of her cells. Alladentium can be found on most of the worlds around here, so we have a plentiful supply. Hekayt Prime is the main provider." Tamila studies the hologram and the changes intently before asking, "So technically these regrown areas are scar tissue, for the laymen among us?" She glances towards Einor, slightly raising a slender brow. Ruin considers this, then says to Mika, "...I think it's cartilage. Artificial cartilage. Not a metal per se, at a guess." Silvereye shrugs lightly. "Whatever it is it works and these people know how to use it. That's all I need to know, really." "I failed biology like a hunnerd times," complains Mika, nevertheless pressing on. "Th' goo 'ave a name? Shoul' we stockpile it?" "Not really scar tissue. They are fully healthy. It's..." Einor takes a moment to pause, thinking it over. "The material used to grow the walls are basic 'baby' cells. I don't know if this will translate properly, but you could consider them stem cells. The sort of cells that will grow into whatever the situation demands. The nutrients involved and the physical link to the protective tissue stimulates them to develop into more of that same spongy nerveless tissue. The... goo is typically called Commocyte, but since Comorro produces it herself there should be enough. We haven't needed to use much lately." "Yeah, you lost me right there," remarks the grey suited woman. Tamila looks a bit lost and completely over her head. "Are there any safety requirements with should be aware of when handling the Commo... Wait, Comorro produces it?" She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "I get a feeling I shouldn't ask where it comes from." "Always handle Commocyte with gloves," Einor remarks promptly. "If it gets in your eyes, flush thoroughly with water. If you consume it, consult a doctor immediately or vomit as soon as possible. It's... fairly acidic. pH of 4.6 or so." Who knows if that was translated or what he actually said? Mika suddenly seems horrified, having followed Tamila's train of thought to some unwanted conclusion. Her face screws up into a disgusted wince and it's all she can do but blurt, "Does Comorro 'ave a mate? Does she bloody mate?" A glance darts up and over to the Hekayti. "Is she gonna-- 'ow d'we--" Silvereye glances at Mika and then just facepalms. "We're not here to talk about the ship's sex life." Einornesk harrumps loudly at Mika, adjusting his spectacles. "I will not reveal any private details," he remarks stuffily, "only to say that no, you do *not* have to worry about the inevitable earthquakes that would result if two Yaralu... 'mated' as we do." Tamila glances towards Mika with a furrowed brow and then towards Einornesk looking white. "Ewww, sick! Not a mental image I wanted." she grumbles. "It is never sick when two sentient beings of the same species truly love each other and express that love physically." Einornesk adjusts his spectacles again, with another of those intensely loud throat-clearings. "NOW. Back on target. Are there further questions?" Mika raises a hand, despite not having raised it prior to lip-flapping before. "She said somethin' 'bout inspections when she talked ta me," the rogue notes, keeping that hand in the air. "Is there a standard or is 't case-by-case? I mean, uh, somethin' in th' lungs woul' 'ave diff'rent criteria'n um, then like in 'er belly, right?" "Yes. There are detailed copies of some additional regulations I have... although they are in Hekayan, so I may have to just explain them aloud," Einornesk sighs. "Typically, though, new structures like this one you are building require an inspection at their beginning and then a yearly inspection afterward to make sure you are not harming her with your lifestyle." Tamila's obviously found something funny and she raises a hand up to her mouth, trying to stiffer a giggle from escape. She gives a loud snort as she tries to breath, and she heads towards the door with one hand held to her side. She heads into the corridor outside of the meeting then breaks into a fit of laughter. It appears that she's trying her hardest to avoid disrupting the meeting any further. There's a pause as the sound of her shoes get further away, then a moment of pondering before she muses to herself with, "I wonder if they do it doggy style?" Silvereye nods slowly to Einor. "And you're explaining with the 'codes' are now, so to speak, or are those available somewhere else?" "Like I said, I have copies of them, but they are in Hekayan," Einor repeats himself patiently. "Which means I will probably need a smaller meeting with the people handling actual construction to discuss them." "I guess we better get on learnin' Hey-kan," Mika ventures toward the Battleclaw, reaching one hand beneath her headscarf to scratch at her scalp. "That'll be innerestin', wot ta say th' bloody leas', eh?" Chuckling, she links up her datapad to the holoemitter, and after a moment, ejects a datacard which she passes to Ruin. Ruin mmms, tucking away his PDA. "I'd appreciate that, once I've finished the designs. I'd better go and see about those power systems first though." And he heads for the ...well, more-or-less doors. Silvereye's tail twitches in a hint of embarrassment at missing Einornesk the first time. "Right." He replies. "And how much are you available for? You've already been an incredible help to us." "I am available for most anything," Einor answers with a helpless shrug, adjusting his spectacles. "I just want to make sure the work is done right, for Comorro's sake."
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