The human had, somewhat grudgingly to start with, accepted a job from a havenworlder who read too much from the infonets and didn't always understand the gist of what was put there. The job sounded dangerous, so they prepared for the worst. The planetary survey, a small ship just big enough for the human and a very, very small crew, was likely the most boring one they'd ever been hired as guard duty for. It was like being paid to go on vacation. At least until one minor piece of adventure. The one that hired them followed their rules quite strictly and tried to get the rest of the crew to do so as well. But as with all crews, there's always that ONE bozo who thinks they know better, until their tail-feathers end up scorched.
Sorry, forgot you need these. @internutter/challenge-03110-h202-friendship-formed-with-rock -- Anon Guest
Human Cal had one personal rule, It is better to look a fool than be one. And given hir life aboard the Lukinlern it was easy to guess that ze may have overprepared for the trip. So far, all the emergency equipment had stayed in idle mode so long that it was all doing life checks[1] on Cal.
It was annoying, but only once a week.
Otherwise, the expedition was like a paid holiday. Until EL5-YHX-D45 VI when Surveyor "That Buttmunch" D'chorp disobeyed orders and wandered off after something shiny.
Flakkin' D'chorp... that buttmunch.
All the rest of the crew were safe in the habitat while Cal went out with the scanner to track down the team-famous rear-eater by their livesuit locator. Such a pity D'chorp had the only functional butterfly net. Cal needed one to keep the Havenworlder in sight.
"D'chorp," Cal called. "C'mon. It's a scary, scary world; and there are scary, scary things. D'chorp! Get your ass back in visual!"
A crackling voice came over the comms. Flakkin' D'chorp. "I admit, I have made mistakes."
On one hand, yay, ze was alive. On the other, Cal was going to strangle that buttmunch. Cal returned the comms call. "How deep is your pickle jar, ya buttmunch?"
"I was attempting to capture some airborne specimens and I confess to not paying much attention to the terrain."
Shock and calm meds[2] were one hell of a combo. "You found a hole that wasn't lost," guessed Cal. "This is why we gave you Saviour Spikes[3]. How deep?"
"I cannot tell, Human Cal. The air bags deployed[4]. My vision is obscured."
Flakkin' buttmunch... "If you weren't so Powers-damned useful to the mission, I'd leave you dangling. Keep singing, I'll find you."
D'chorp, in a heartfelt effort to promote pack-bonding, had learned and internalised The Song That Never Ends. Which ze launched into in a warbling and nervous falsetto.
One chorus was interrupted by, "I can see scuttling things through the bags..."
"You're armoured, they're not crawling on you, and they shouldn't be able to breach a xeno-ready livesuit. Deep breaths, ya buttmunch. I'm nearly--" Cal stopped on the brink. "How the FLAKK did you not see a flakking ravine, D'chorp?"
"I was looking at the airborne specimen?"
Cal shone a light down the ravine and -yep- they were dangling off an overhang, and several spider-like critters were being curious in D'chorp's general direction. Worse, it looked like ze had dropped the butterfly net down the chasm.
"I do not have a ladder long enough to retrieve your ass," sighed Cal. "Damnit, D'chorp. This one's gonna use the big bag." Levitation drones, retrieval platforms, the whole deal. "How are your suit stocks?"
"I had to set it on osmosis half an hour ago."
Fan-flakking-tastic. It was an All Hands rescue. Cal made hirself comfortable and sent all the relevant information back to the rest of the crew.
They would make it safely because they followed protocol. All the same, it would be after dark before progress could happen.
"So," drawled Cal. "Have we learned... at flakking last?"
[1] The essential equipment equivalent of Netflix's are you still watching message, just in case you dozed off whilst bingeing. In this case, it's are you still alive?
[2] Many Galactics are literal-minded. Therefore, 'stress meds' are the 'uppers' and 'calm meds' are the 'downers'.
[3] A technological relative to the Hungry Caterpillar, consisting of telescopic grapples programmed to lash out and attach to the nearest stable surface, thus preventing the cogniscent attached to them from a fatal collision.
[4] Most of the time.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / dubassy]
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