Galaxy Express 999, Phobos

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Katz Schrödinger

Things started spiralling into their current way, shape, and form back when the movers and shakers Earthside finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to try and stick arriving and departing Fen with extra tax.

HUD, already having to handle some work they/we were getting by subcontracting it to a fair number of Fen, and being closest to having an actual structure, took a fair bit of their flak.

In fact, Hermes finally did sign some random kipple worth of official looking paperwork to get the vultures off our backs, whereupon most of us took nom-de-guerre and legally divorced our former identities.

Then we gave the administrative collective the equivalent of the finger by proceeding to ignore the US and most of Europe, and moving the brunt of our Earthside storage space and business deals to Australia.

Half a year later business was back to normal, and the quality of beer we were delivering was a lot better than it had been before, but bulk orders were coming in more and more often.

It was the next big project. An upscaling, upgrading, or whatever you'd like to call it.

Plus, it was a way to get out of having to deal with the paperwork generated by the friendly, but still formalized relationship Hermes now had with the Aussie authorities.

So, myself and a few others went scouting ... or so the official story goes. Personally, I spent a week catching the highs and lows of Down Under - something I'd been meaning to do before, but had never really found the time to properly indulge in.

Inspiration struck when I'd hit North Williamstown.

Unfortunately, friendly as we were with the admins, we weren't _that_ friendly.

Fortunately, we did find out that while the Victorian Railways H220 displayed there was the only H class locomotive of its type that had entered service, it had been intially intended to be joined by two more of its type. Sadly, construction was never completed, and the parts had likely been scrapped.

It took us the better part of three months to raid assorted scrapyards, make inquiries, and put together a Handwaviumfab unit big enough to deal with assembly and eventual manufacture of parts missing. Fortunately, there was more than enough documentation to peruse, and we didn't actually have to put in a working engine ...

... and I had to stop Trigon from torching Botany Bay, but that's another story altogether. Let's just say that he gets bored easily.

In the end, re-construction was completed in record time - though maybe not so record, considering that four Fen were actually sweating bullets to make it happen. Me? I was, err, supervising! Yes, that's it.

What?

Yeah, well, their kung-fu was better than mine for dealing with the matter at hand. Personally, if it doesn't deal with force-fields or things going boom in a spectacular manner, I'm usually tempted to hand it off to someone else.

Anyway, we gave the whole thing its handwavium paintjob, hooked as much free Solid State 'wavetech as we had on hand into where the boiler would have been, had we actually managed to get a full one, called it a night, and proceeded over to Sydney to raid its Chinatown.

After a night that would eventually start the 'five Fen walk into a bar' joke franchise - and a morning on which I woke up to much screaming, because it was also the night of the infamous guacamole dip caper - and getting our collective shit together in the morning (one gender-change, one scalification, one human-fly/spiderman act, one split, and, well, me) we made our way back to the dockside warehouse space we'd rented.

The six of us - yeah, six. Turns out the guy who'd brought the guacamole got himself an Evil Twin. Or should that be Good Twin? Meh - promptly proceeded to jawdrop and stare.

No, not just because of the fact that you'd have to be insane to wear a long, black, and obviously winter weight coat in Australia in the summer.

Well, whatever debate there eventually would have been as to who'd crew the newest member of the HUD flotilla was pretty much eliminated there and then. We'd have called her Galaxy Express 999 regardless, but this sort of made it more ... right. If you get what I'm saying.

And even now, none of us had even the foggiest as to where she'd come from. Nor did we have any desire to ask. Hell, given that she's got some sort of symbiotic relationship with the 999 it's as likely as anything that all that handwavium in one place did a number on Reality. More of one than usual, at least.

"Katz."

Aaaand ... oh, hell.

Yeah, alright, the hug was nice. The frown that came after was worrying.

"Alright, what did I do this time?"

"Other than never calling?"

"Yes, other than never calling. You know I'm not a big fan of vidcom."

"Other than rarely even writing?"

"Err ..." I could have sworn I'd been keeping up with exchanges in that regard.

"People have been worried, you know? I actually needed to put together a storage buffer for your correspondence, because it keeps bouncing here for some reason."

I drew breath to defend myself before what she said registered. Wonderful. Well, that explains some things ...

"Damnit, Trigon!"

Yeah. I may be an ass, but I'd like to think I'm not that big an ass.

I promptly proceeded to beg, grovel, and explain myself.

"Well, you must be hungry," she finally said, cheerfully pretending to ignore the display. "Come, come. The kitchens just finished fixing a little something to tide us over until Phobos."

Whereupon Maetel proceeded to hook her arm around mine and direct me towards the dining cart.


Generally, I don't really trust the goop of the spaceways. Or maybe I'm not willing to trust in using just the goop. I started out with Solid State 'wavetech. Hell, I airlifted and spacefared over those first few months with Solid State 'wavetech.

Call me sentimental.

Oh?

Yeah, well, you can work around those limitations ... or at least, I can. It's pretty much a given that, if you're working with any sort of 'wavium, you'll get some sort of package that lets you understand the stuff on a basic level. Running theory is harmonic resonance of the 'wavium with the user's aura or somesuch junk.

In other words, it's sort of a 'gadgeteer upgrade' I guess.

Or should that be 'mad scientist'? In some cases, definitely. Just look at the Prof. Make sure to wear sunglasses, though. That last detonation was damn bright.

I guess I got 'idiot savant', because ... okay, here's a secret. I don't really have clue on how these things work, beyond broad hints. Just about whether or not something will or won't. No, nothing like inspiration.

I've felt inspiration. This isn't it.

This is ... well, this is me being the monkey sat in front of the typewriter and coming up with Macbeth after punching random keys.

For some reason, I do my best work with shields and other energy fields. It's how Uncertainty got to orbit and back those first few times without any goop coating to keep the air in - navigational deflectors and a structural integrity field that doubled as containment - as well as the basis for her energy sails, among other things.

So I wasn't really making myself too comfortable - I knew the cars were isolated and had been 'wavium coated as the basis of the process. I also knew Maetel was about as likely to take risks about her passengers and cargo as it was for the Sun to fizzle out tomorrow, so that was some measure of comfort right right there.

Passengers? Yeah, well, tourists are a universal constant. Almost as much of one as Jenova's ... err ... Jehovah's Witnesses, and only slightly less annoying.

And if you've got those, you've got a fair number who want to travel in comfort and style. Two things that the Galaxy Express has in spades, plus possibly the only automated 'wavium kitchen that produces not only edible but actually tasty results.

This is doubly true when there's been a Convention notice - there are always those who'd like to see how the Fen party. At the very least, reporters will show up. We've got a loosely defined deal with Space(formerly Sky) News Australia that makes us a pretty penny in petty cash whenever there's something up in the lands of Above and Beyond.

We came up on Phobos in a matter of hours, without many delays - another reason to travel with the supplies would be that it gets you to the head of the queue without much fuss. The admins know well enough how rowdy and ... inventive ... a gathering of Fen low on snackage can get - and got directed into the main hangar space where the cargo was unloaded and the passengers were welcomed by the first site of most likely the biggest damn cave they'd ever seen.

It didn't really have artificial gravity - too little use for it, really - so we had to deal with a few cases of space-sickness before we got going.

"Now, a few basic rules for those who've not been in open Fenspace before," Maetel was lecturing as we floated over to the lifts. "Staring is considered either rude or complimentary on a case-by-case basis, but nobody will likely object to pictures. If you don't know what it is, you really shouldn't touch it ..."

"Or eat it, or drink it, or poke it with a stick," I chimed in. We were hit with a solid Gee of acceleration which promptly turned into a comfortable point eight worth of artificial gravity when the turbolift equivalent brought us to the promenade deck.

"Yes, or all that. Also, 'do not enter' signs are usually there for a reason."

"Frankly, considering the odds, you'll be considered lucky to just find hard vacuum on the other side."

"Quite. Peanut gallery, please be quiet," she said, amusedly, as we vacated the lift. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes scanning around for things and people of interest while she finished, and directed the gaggle of mundies to an information booth. The few Fen who'd caught a ride with the Express for one reason or another quickly ignored that and mingled.

We finally had a bit of space to ourselves, and must have made for a bit of a peculiar image - Maetel was wearing a white version of her usual, looking all aloof and composed, while I was playing contrast by being decked out in black casual and being my usual scruffy self.

"So, do you have any plans?" I asked as we made our way through the still sparse Fendom. More would be arriving by the minute, but the promenade was large enough that it wouldn't become cramped for a while yet.

And somebody had supplied the overhead screen-ceiling - which usually furthered the illusion of open space for Phobos' inhabitants by virtue of projecting Mars' sky based on tranmissions being relayed from one of the surface outposts - with imagery from Saturn.

Nifty.

"Oh? No, none, really. The Galaxy Express and I are here for the duration and already booked for the return trip, or so I suppose," she replied, before we were interrupted.


Well, now I remember another reason as to why the Express is 'parked' in the main bay pending unloading.

Fendom, despite occasional claims to the contrary, is prone to just as many foibles as the mundies. One of the most annoying being what I term the Pirhana Effect. Also trope-d as Give-Them-A-Finger-And-They'll-Take-Your-Arm-Off. Or at least it should be.

Employing a mixture of three skills essential to every Con-goer (dum dum dum dum dum dum) - the Nothing-Wrong-Here-Smile, the Elbows-Of-Poking, and the Art-Of-Crowd-Step - we finally managed to make our way out of the throng of rabid Matsumotoites.

Usually, I don't mind these guys. Hell, Scales was one of them back when we were working on the Express, and probably still is.

Come to think of it, that was easier than I thought it'd be.

Oh.

"We did not just see Mal decking ..." I started, the reconsidered my statement. The 'sky' proceeded to repeat the recording of the incident in a short loop.

Yup.

There was Mal.

There was Mal's fist.

"No, I think we did," Maetel corrected with a laugh, then stood on her toes and gave the conquering hero a small wave over the top of the crowd.

"Well, here's to familiar faces, then."

Hmm, and there was the Village of Hidden Asteroid, in the process of setting up their stand as close to the middle of the promenade's far end as they'd managed to wrangle from Phobos' representatives. I meant that literally. Far as I could tell, they were using that antigrav kitbash I sent their way last time I was visiting - because, hey, cute asian girls in skimpy ani-ninja wear? Yeah.

Though how the hell they expected people to be able to get up there, I had no idea. Should occur to them in a few minutes, methinks.

It was still a bit until ... well, whatever that stage was there for would be happening, or so the so called 'schedule' we'd snagged on the lift said, and I'd never been much for mingling.

"Schrodinger!"

Damn. So much for random timesinks. Apparently, Phobos admins still remembered me.

"This'll take a while, I think. You might want to get out of the blast radius," I shrugged at Maetel's inquisitive look, before she caught my meaning and trailed off as to not be caught in whatever it was that was heading this way.

Yup, that looked like what passed for the locals' uniform. Or close enough to it, at least.

I proceeded to spend the next half-hour sprouting assurances that, yes, the Uncertainty was here but Trigon was properly secured and entertained and, no, he wouldn't try reenacting the tunnel run from Return of the Jedi in Phobos' interior.

Again.

Gah.