Moonstrike! Chapter 5 - Alarms

[tikatu]

Author's note: I saw the helicopter design online some time ago, but couldn't find it again to give credit or a link. The Spaceport America is real; I figure it's pretty busy during the 2060s. And Tin-Tin doesn't call Brains "Hiram" as this happens before "Alias Mr. Hackenbacker". Many thanks to Lillehafrue for betareading.

Disclaimers, et al.
Chapter 1: Discovery
Chapter 2: Enemies
Chapter 3: Trust
Chapter 4: Disappearance

---

Early September, 2065 – Lunar Station Armstrong

At the moon's north pole, plumbed deep within the huge lava tubes left from ancient lunar volcanoes, sat a half-circle of small communities. Carefully placed where underground ice and water had been discovered, each community was relatively self-supporting, each connected to the others by underground roadways, each helping the others to survive between the inadequate supply runs from Earth.

There had been plans for twelve lunar colonies; six had been built, all named for men and women who had walked the Moon's dusty surface. But the seventh had died a violent and untimely death before even leaving Earth's orbit, effectively putting paid to the project's future stages. It was difficult enough to get needed supplies to the remaining stations, what with complaints about project cost overruns, and dodging unexpected attacks by Tellus Prime. Still, mankind survived, holding on to their lunar beachhead by fingertip grip, hoping that what they were learning here would be of use in an attempt to colonize Mars.

Gina Harlow, dark-skinned, her short curly hair just starting to pick up some silver, sat back in the hard chair before the communications consoles. She was head of Lunar Station Armstrong and of the entire colonization project; a constructionary exoecologist by trade, her specialty encompassed all aspects of lunar living, and that made her administrative material – at least, to the WSA.

"What's the latest?" she asked, regarding the screens, five of which displayed images of her fellow colony directors.

"The numbers are still the same." Ivan Korloff, hawk-nosed, balding, his craggy face showing his age, shook his head. "It's still coming. Have you notified Earth HQ?"

"Yes." The word came out more like a groan. "They're giving me the same song and dance as before.'Not a threat, not a threat.' Daffyd, what about the Royal Astronomical Society? What do they have to say?"

Daffyd Tremordan, young, dark-haired head of Cernan station, made a sour face, his thin lips twisting. "They've stopped taking my calls. Same thing for the European Space Agency, NASA... the Filipinos. No one is listening. It's as if they were all blind."

"Or they don't want to see," Robert Mulholland of LS Young added in disgust. He ran a pale hand through his thinning blond locks. "It's like we don't matter."

"What can we do?" Gina asked, frowning. "We have some time, but if we can't get the World Government to listen to us..." Her voice trailed off.

"May I make a suggestion?" Mingmei Tsui, head of Banasik colony, cut in, her voice soft but firm. The expression on her wrinkled face was as inscrutable as ever, for she would not admit to strong emotions – or weakness – while amongst the others. "There may be one group that would listen. A group outside of the World Government."

"I think I know who you mean and I've been thinking about them, too," Daffyd said, nodding his agreement.

"True. They might have seen the problem,"said Dennis Kamara, of LS Glenn. He scratched the dark beard that looked as if it had spilled down from his curly hair. "I don't know what they can do, but it wouldn't hurt to ask them."

"I thought they only responded to critical situations, and like it or not, what we have is not critical...yet," Ivan countered. "Why would they respond?"

"All we can do is try," Gina said. She glanced at each person, waiting for – and getting – a nod of approval. "I'll make the call."

So, they waited as she disappeared from the screen. There was no chatter among them; they'd gone around and around before about the problem, with few options and fewer results. After a few minutes, Gina returned.

"Well?" asked Robert, leaning forward, an intent look on his square-jawed face.

Gina's face creased into a weary smile. "They told me they are aware of the problem. They agree with our assessment, and are currently working on a solution. I'm to collect as much data as possible, including population, and they've given me an secure email address to send it to."

"Oh, thank God! Someone who actually believes us!" Dennis's response was fervent and hope-filled.

"Will we hear from them again?" Mingmei asked, her eyes reflecting hope that her face would not reveal.

"Yes, they promised me they'd keep us apprised of their progress."

There was a general feeling of relief, and some smiles among those electronically gathered. "So, gentlefolk," Gina said, "let's get them the information they need as soon as we can. The faster they get it, the quicker they can help us."

"Right. Within forty-eight hours, people," Dennis added, his tone full of purpose. "LS Glenn, out."

The men excused themselves one by one, until only Gina and Mingmei were left. Gina favored the older woman with a sad smile. "Do you think International Rescue can do this? It's a really big job."

Mingmei sighed, unguarded now that she and her friend were alone. "I know, but as the World Gov is sitting on its hands, IR is our only hope."

Later, during the "night" cycle at one of the lunar stations, an encrypted message was dispatched as an attachment to a regularly scheduled communique. It was received by someone at World Space Authority headquarters on Earth, who forwarded the attachment on to another, more distant computer. The message was opened, decrypted, and read by a woman sitting in a nondescript office cubicle in New York City. She frowned, and forwarded it to several other addresses. By the end of the solar day, the news reached high-ranking Tellus Prime operatives around the world: International Rescue knew about the oncoming disaster, and was making plans to aid the lunar stations.

---

Mid-October, 2065 – Spaceport America, New Mexico

The sunny, cloudless day was well into the mid-afternoon, and heat radiated off the tarmac at Tracy Aerospace's Albuquerque plant. A slight breeze ruffled the open-sided white tent, providing some relief to those gathered. Today marked the public unveiling of the company's latest space shuttle, and selected reporters, industry leaders, and local dignitaries had been invited to attend.

At one end of the tent, a raised dais stood, and on it, the presidents of both Tracy Ventures' Aerospace, Transport, and Construction Divisions were preparing their remarks. Gillian Hefty, a tall, thin, thirty-something, was in charge of Aerospace, and would be fielding most of the questions. Her dark red hair, cut in the latest chin-length style, was all but cemented in place against the heat of the day. Seated at her right, Ron DiTaglio, of Construction, unconsciously stroked his bristly mustache as he checked his data pad one last time. A drop of sweat fell on the touch screen, and he took out a handkerchief wipe it off, and to mop his dark, balding brow. Elias Miller, president of Tracy Transport, brushed away a pesky fly. His craggy face was dour; he hated public speaking and hoped there would be no questions for him. Tracy Transport had been Miller and Sons Transport, once upon a time, but his sons were decidedly uninterested in taking over a failing family business. A merger with behemoth Tracy Ventures – brokered by the previous CEO in days past – meant his beleaguered company stayed afloat and his employees (including him) kept their jobs.

As the shuttle's designers, Tin-Tin and Brains were present, and seated near the back. Both wore sunglasses, and Tin-Tin sported a fetching, wide-brimmed sun hat. They were, they knew, surrounded by plainclothes Tracy Ventures security personnel. According to Lady Penelope's – or, more likely, Parker's – grapevine, there were mutterings about disrupting the shuttle's debut in some fashion.

"I can hardly wait to see the finished product," Tin-Tin murmured to her companion, keeping her voice low.

Brains leaned toward her. "I'm, uh, anxious to see it too, Tin-Tin. I just hope Ms. H-Hefty remembers our, uh, request."

"I'm sure she will." Tin-Tin peered over the heads before her. "Oh! Isn't that Ned Cook?"

Frowning, Brains looked in the direction that she indicated. "You're, uh, right, Tin-Tin. I wonder what he's d-doing here. I doubt he was, uh, invited."

"I'm sure we'll soon find out. Ms. Hefty is beginning her remarks."

Gillian approached the clear podium; a full color Tracy Ventures logo was set into its main support, and, in some arenas, looked as if it were floating on air. Not here, though, and not now; not with Gillian's royal blue skirt suit sitting as backdrop.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We're here today to unveil a new generation of reusable space craft, a new shuttle design that bridges the gap between cargo and passenger space, and will make it easier to supply those projects our world already has in place, as well as future endeavors in spaceflight and colonization. Without further ado," she gestured toward the big hangar doors, which were slowly opening, "I give you Tracy Transport's latest design, the TVA-6000!"

Behind her, a Tracy Aerospace tow tractor pulled the new shuttle into view. Applause greeted the unveiling as more of the sleek craft was revealed. Brains and Tin-Tin joined in, exchanging glances and nodding their heads in approval.

The craft – painted in Tracy Aerospace's white and silver, and emblazoned with the name Eagle – was not as wide as Thunderbird Two, and was missing the raised tail-plane, Two chemical thruster engines were clustered at the back, while ion drives took the place of Two's massive ramjets. The wings were forward facing, instead of backwards, and they could swing tightly into the chassis like Thunderbird One's could. For VTVL (vertical takeoff with vertical landing) capability in space, Gillian described a set of powerful turbofan engines mounted in gimbals; in reality, they were paired with Brains's new anti-gravity impellers. The turbofans worked in atmosphere while the impellers took over in micro-gravity conditions. It rolled out on heavy-duty tires that were grouped in sets of four; each individual tire had two inflatable replacements in case of blow out.

"The central part of the aircraft consists of interchangeable storage capsules that can be used independently of the shuttle chassis," Gillian said. She indicated the vehicle, which had come to a stop. "The configuration of each capsule will depend on what is being carried in it." There was a hum as the chassis rose upward on stubby legs, stopping well before reaching the top of the capsule, leaving roughly a third of it exposed. "In this case, the configuration is for passengers in the bottom third of the storage area, and cargo in the upper two thirds."

The shuttle now lowered itself again, then the capsule lifted into the air, exposing a good section of its sides and roof. There was a new, softer hum, and the roof began to peel away, rising like a set of bay doors, opening to the sky. "This configuration allows not only for cargo to be discharged at ground level through a series of internal lifts, it also permits larger pieces to be easily removed in zero-gravity conditions."

The doors eased closed again with a muffled thump, and the capsule was lowered to become part of the whole once more. Gillian unconsciously rubbed her hands together, then turned to her audience. "All right, who has the first question?" Several hands were raised, and she chose a slight Asian woman, who stood.

"I am Kaiya Muranaka of Design News Japan," the slender woman said as she introduced herself. "On the specifications files you have given us, it is said the TVA-6000 will be powered by a variation of XC-200. Is this the fuel used in the recent Sun Probe voyage?"

"Yes, it is. We've been working with Perpetual Motion Biofuels, Limited, to test new variations on the Sun Probe rocket fuel, and as a result, the TVA-6000 is the first commercial spacecraft to be fueled by it." She paused a beat, then called, "Next question."

Ned Cook was waving his hand pretty hard, but Gillian chose a middle-aged gent in the center of the audience, who stood as she acknowledged him. "Robert Kingsley, Aerospace Today." His tone was cultured and British, and he glanced down at his tablet. "I understand that the TVA-6000 doesn't have the usual complement of silica tiles over an insulated aluminum hull. In fact, I understand you're not using aluminum in the hull at all."

This statement caused a murmur from among the group. Brains smiled smugly, causing Tin-Tin to lean over and murmur, "Brains, stop that." He glanced at her and his smile faded so something far more benign, accompanied with a huffed out breath and a slump of his shoulders.

"Very true, Mr. Kingsley," Gillian replied, nodding. "The TVA-6000 is constructed of a new alloy that can easily withstand the extreme heat of re-entry as well as the utter cold of space without damage. I'm not allowed to say who and where it is being manufactured, only that we are among the first to use it for this purpose." She paused, watching just about everyone there frantically texting and making notes. "Mind you, at this point, Tracy Aerospace's needs will be dominating their production quotas for the next year or more, and they are not quite ready to market this world-wide."

"Why not? Don't they like money?" Kingsley asked, frowning.

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Of course they do, Mr. Kingsley. However, they are concerned about the military potential to this alloy, and – for once – that is of more importance to them."

"Hmph." Kingsley sniffed. "Thank you, Ms. Hefty." His adjoining neighbors heard him mutter, sotto voce, "Bloody doves," as he sat down.

"Another question?" Once again, Ned Cook tried to make himself noticeable, but Gillian motioned to a short, stout dark-skinned lady who could hardly be seen even as she stood up. "Yes, your question?"

"Emma Rivera-Katonga, of Aerospace Review." The lady's accent was rich, and difficult to pin down. "Forgive me for asking such an impertinent question, but having seen this new shuttle of yours, I have to ask: how do you intend to get it to escape velocity?" She gestured toward the shuttle. "I know the story of the bumblebee, and how it should not be able to fly..."

There was a bit of laughter, and Gillian chuckled. "A fair question, and one better answered by my Tracy Construction counterpart, Mr. Ron DiTaglio." She gestured toward him, and there was a smattering of applause as he took the podium. Gillian faded back, taking a seat.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Ron's deep voice echoed over the crowd as he focused in on Ms. Rivera-Katonga. "As to your question, ma'am, you might think a booster system would be employed, as it was with the original space shuttles at the early part of the century. But, no; we've designed a unique launch pad that will tilt the shuttle at a sharp angle. The engines will have a near vertical buffer to push against at the base of the pad, and exhaust will be shunted away through vents on either side of the buffer." He gestured out across the flat expanse of spaceport to a distant tangle of metal scaffolding. "You can see our construction crews working right now."

"I think I understand your reasoning, Mr. DiTaglio. It sounds very... interesting." Ms. Rivera-Katonga bobbed her head. "My thanks."

"You're welcome," Ron replied. He glanced over at Gillian, who nodded and returned to the podium. "Next question?"

Ned Cook had moved further into the crowd, taking up a position just three rows in front of Brains and Tin-Tin, and put up his hand more politely than before. Nevertheless, Gillian chose a weedy, pale, bespectacled and academic-looking young man instead. "Your question?"

"Quarren Lewis, Global Economist." The young man's tones were slightly edgy, as if he were trying to control a very sarcastic streak. "If I may ask, Ms. Hefty, what exactly is the purpose of this shuttle? Other governments have suitable reusable vessels, and even the World Space Authority has unmanned cargo drones that would do the same things your shuttle is designed to do. So, why build it?"

"Ah, excellent question, Mr. Lewis," Gillian said, smiling. "For that, I'll defer to my colleague, Mr. Elias Miller, of Tracy Transport."

Again there was a small smattering of applause while Elias took the podium and Gillian sat down. Elias cleared his throat. "Mr. Lewis, you are, I hope, aware that in a few short years, the WSA will be retiring its cargo drone transport program, especially as regards to the lunar colonies. The drones are approaching the end of their planned lifespans, and there have been more than a few collisions and near-misses with some of the larger space debris that orbits the earth. Supply missions will be either handed over to separate nation-states, or opened up as commercial routes. We at Tracy Transport want to be in position to pick up the slack, both as a commercial vendor, ferrying supplies to our current space initiatives, and as providers of cutting-edge vehicles to do the same for future endeavors." He smiled, a firm, almost grim, expression. "After all, our founder had a role in setting our mark on the moon; it's only fitting that we're the company that continues his efforts."

"I see." Quarren pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded sharply. "Thank you, Mr. Miller."

Gillian returned to the podium and Elias sat down. "One last question." She surveyed the crowd, and finally said, "All right, Mr. Cook. Your turn."

Ned seemed taken by surprise, but recovered quickly. "Ah, yes. Ned Cook, National Television Broadcasting System." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "I'm sure my viewers will want to know who designed this marvel of aerospace engineering. Can you give us his or her name?"

Tin-Tin grasped and squeezed Brains's hand as the engineer paled beside her.

"Mr. Cook, we are very proud of our engineering staff, and give them credit whenever it's due." Gillian's voice was firm, but had not yet lost its cordial tone. Not yet. "However," she continued, "this particular team has asked to remain anonymous, for a variety of sound reasons."

"Like the fact that they've blatantly ripped off a design pioneered by International Rescue?" Cook sounded angry, which made Tin-Tin and Brains exchange puzzled glances. "You know as well as I do that there have been plenty of eyewitness accounts, artist sketches, and even some long distance footage of the International Rescue craft. The lines of Thunderbird Two – which this shuttle of yours certainly resembles – may not be well-known, but they are out there." He shook an open hand at the TVA-6000. "I'm no engineer, but I have had the privilege of seeing the Thunderbirds in action. And I think it's low of Tracy Ventures to take one of their designs and pirate it!"

"He's angry for us," Tin-Tin whispered, her well-painted lips close to Brains's ear. Her breath tickled, and her mouth was close enough to leave a little dab of "Fuchsia Fun" on him. He didn't reply, but nodded his head and smiled.

"Mr. Cook." Gillian's voice was now not only firm but full of smoldering indignation. "Our designers did not 'pirate' anyone's design, much less one of International Rescue's. They looked into what has worked in the past, as in the original NASA Space Shuttle, merged it with what works now. In fact," she said, a well-plucked eyebrow raised, "I happen to know that one idea for the capsule came from a proposed but never-built cargo helicopter – one which allowed a cargo space to be lowered and raised while the craft was still airborne." She paused, then leaned out over the podium a little. "If International Rescue feels we have infringed on their designs in any way, they can..."

Her next words were drowned out by sharp whine then a loud BOOM! Someone started screaming, and the assembled group of reporters dove for their phones and cameras. The tow tractor was burning, and its operator lay on the ground, stunned but trying to get up. A whining ping sounded out, and he fell again, blood pooling beneath one leg.

The less intrepid reporters were crouching down between the rows, while others were standing on the chairs, trying to get pictures. Tracy Ventures security had guns out; some had reached the driver, trying to shield him and staunch the bleeding. Others were tracking down the gunsel, while a third group was trying to bring order to what had become half-rout, half-rugby scrum. A chosen few were leading Ron, Gillian, and Elias to safety, and another small cadre was taxed with the safety of the funny man in the thick glasses and the pretty girl with the fetching hat.

Another explosion was heard, not as loud, and accompanied by broken glass. Someone had hurled an explosive, perhaps an old-fashioned Molotov cocktail, at the shuttle, spilling fire and fuel across the prototype's finish. Brains and Tin-Tin exchanged glances, then Brains activated his watch, bringing it close to his mouth and saying in a barely audible voice, "A-A-Activate relocation protocol C."

Over the sounds of confusion and flame came the whine of an engine starting. The prototype was powering up; the clamp that held it to the burning tow tractor dropped away with a dull clang. Turbofans began to rotate, gaining speed, blowing grit and sand every which way. The stinging barrage did more than the shouting security men and women could to disperse the gaggle of reporters; with cries and shrieks, they moved away from the rising craft. At this point, three burly guards, two male, one female, managed to extricate Brains and Tin-Tin from the surrounding madness and spirit them away to a waiting vehicle.

Spaceport police began to close in, with ambulance and EMTs, and the shuttle kept rising, faster and faster. The alcohol-fueled flames were doused as it changed direction, leaving the local airspace and heading off to parts unknown to but a few... and somehow removing itself from radar detection to boot.

In a fast moving limousine, the three vice presidents were shaken... and angry.

"Damn!" Elias slapped his hand on the pleather upholstery in the armored limo. "Who could have hijacked it? Who did this?"

"Calm down, Elias," Gillian said. She sat with her arms folded, staring out the tinted window. "I was told by our consultants that if anything happened, the ship had a safety protocol. I just wasn't aware that flying it out and making it look like it was hijacked was what they considered 'safety'."

"What!" Ron stared at her in disbelief. "Do you think they planned all this? Our own people?"

Gillian shook her head, brushing a few tendrils away as the virtual helmet of hair showed its first cracks. "I don't know, Ron, but somehow, I doubt it. It's the shooting, you see. I don't think they'd have shot the..."

A voice came from the driver's area. "Ms. Tracy on vidphone for you." A vidphone with a double screen eased slowly from its storage notch in the ceiling. Elias reached forth and turned it on, and within seconds the face of their employer looked out.

"Are you three all right?" she asked. At her desk back in New York, Rhea's computer screen showed each side of the vidphone in separate windows.

"Yes, we're fine, Allison," Elias said. "A bit shaken, but unhurt."

"Her face relaxed a little. "Good to hear. What happened out there? The news is full of conflicting reports."

Both men looked to Gillian, who gave a little sigh. "There was an explosion; seems the tow tractor we were using was blown up. I would have thought there was some kind of trouble with it, but the driver was shot as he tried to get out of the way, which makes me think that the explosion was planned."

"Go on." It was obvious that Rhea was listening intently, and making notes.

"Someone threw some kind of bomb..." Gillian waved her hands; they fluttered in little spurts of agitation.

"Looked like a Molotov cocktail from where I was standing, Allison," Elias added, taking over the narrative. "Smashed up against the shuttle near the nose and spread flame across the finish. Don't think it hurt anything." He shook his head. "What came next just floored me. All of a sudden, the shuttle powered up, rose into the air on its VTVLs and flew off."

"It went north-northwest," Ron said. "I don't think it was even manned at the time."

Rhea nodded. "I see." She leaned back and tapped her chin with her stylus, still visible but obviously thinking. "I'm told by spaceport security that the shuttle went off radar soon after it lifted off. They're requisitioning air reconnaissance from nearby Holloman Air Force base..."

A voice cut in from the driver's section. "Sorry to interrupt. Something you might want to hear, folks." The voice was Patrick Lanier's; he was the local Tracy Ventures security agent attached to the division presidents. He toggled on the separate televid in the back seat, and tuned it to NTBS mid-sentence.

"...Cook was on the scene when someone attacked the unveiling of Tracy Aerospace's newest shuttle, the TVA-6000. According to Reuters news network, Tellus Prime is claiming responsibility for the bomb which destroyed a Tracy Aerospace tow tractor and damaged the shuttle, as well as for the shooting of the tractor's driver. However, no one is claiming responsibility for the shuttle's hijacking. Tracy Ventures officials cannot currently be reached for comment..."

In another car, much like the one Ron and Gillian rode in, Tin-Tin and Brains were also shaken. "How horrible! That poor man... shot like that!" Tin-Tin's hands trembled a little as she took off her hat and sunglasses, laying them on the seat beside her. "Who did this terrible thing?"

"I'm, uh, not sure, Tin-Tin, but I'm certain we'll..." Brains was interrupted by the beeping of his watch. He activated it to see the Alan's earnest face peering back at him. "Brains here. Go ahead, Alan."

"First of all, Brains, Dad wants to know if you and Tin-Tin are okay." Tin-Tin quickly eased closer to Brains so she could see what was going on.

"We're fine, Alan," she said. "A little shaken up but unhurt."

"Whew! That's good." Alan smiled and nodded, but his smile quickly faded to a scowl. "Now, what the hell is going on? Deke pops up telling me that there's some 'relocation program' running, and all Dad would say is to track the signal to its destination. What's it all about, Brains?"

"It's a new system we're field-testing in the, uh, TVA-6000, Alan," Brains said smoothly. "It will, uh, automatically move the shuttle out of danger by taking it to a pre-programmed destination. Wh-Where is the shuttle now?"

"Well, according to Deke, it's en route to Agent 77, but it's not registering on radar. Kinda of dangerous, don't you think?" Alan glanced away. "Put a sock in it, Deke!" He sighed and shook his head. "Deke's brought up something on the televid you should see. It's on NTBS."

Brains reached over and turned on the televid, tuning it to Ned Cook's station. The pair exchanged glances as the report about Tellus Prime came up.

"Tellus Prime... I wonder why they decided to attack the unveiling," Tin-Tin asked, more to herself than anyone else.

"I sure don't know, Tin-Tin, but they seem to be attacking anything and everything lately. That whole business with the plutonium store... what did they expect to gain there?" Alan shook his head. "I just don't get them."

Brains shook his head. "I think we should, uh, suspend our discussion for a later time, A-Alan, when we have more information. Besides, I need to figure out how to let Ms. Hefty know that the, uh, apparent hijacking was really the, uh, safety feature I mentioned earlier."

"All right, Brains," Tin-Tin said, nodding. She frowned a little. "Isn't this something that Rhea should know, too?"

"She already does, Tin-Tin," Brains explained. "But the, uh, information shouldn't come from her; people will wonder why we're suddenly dealing with the CEO since we've been dealing mostly with Ms. Hefty up until now." He turned his attention back to his watch, and Alan. "Is there anything else we should, uh, be aware of, Alan?"

"Only that you should keep a sharp eye on weather conditions. There's a tropical low off the coast of Chile that might impact your travel plans."

"F-A-B, Alan. Will do. Brains, out."

He turned back to find Tin-Tin mesmerized by footage from the televid. "It looks like Lady Penelope was right," she murmured. A worried frown on her face, she turned to Brains. "Why? Why did they attack... us?"

"I don't know, Tin-Tin," Brains replied softly. "But I e-expect we'll be hearing more from, uh, these people in the future."

Comments

[eviinsanemonkey.livejournal.com]

This is a very interesting chapter, and I like the way the story is progressing. Can't wait for more!

[tikatu.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you're enjoying it! This chapter gave me fits over at Fan Nation, and I forgot to update the HTML coding when I edited it at ff.net. So now I've edited a bit of Alan's dialog to make it sound more like him, and for some punctuation bobbles I see now. I'll have to go back and fix that everywhere else!

I'll post chapter 6 a little later. I'm up to chapter 11 in what's finished, and I'm going to start work on chapter 12 tonight.

Notes, Part 1

[thatgirlsix.livejournal.com]

Hey Beautiful!

So here's my second for the day. Depending on how things go, I might be able to squeeze a third in, but until then ...

- YAY colonies! Have I mentioned yet how awesome I think it is that you're going in an actual scientific direction with a story? I will fully admit that writing the emotional/family stuff is so much easier, so YAY on you for being brave enough to get technical. Cajones, baby!

- The phrase "effectively putting paid to the project's future stages" threw me for a minute because I couldn't figure out if there was a word missing or if I simply didn't get it.

- A word choice thing: unexpected attack. If it's an expected or routine attack, I get that it takes away from the drama of it, but at the same time, "unexpected" next to "attack" has a feeling of redundancy about it. It's like saying something is an "unexpected surprise". Give me a darker adjective than "unexpected". Give me something with gravity. It will also help strengthen the position of Tellus Prime. Are the settlers mostly civilians or scientists? That might be worth mentioning in conjunction with your word choice.

- She uses "craggy"! I love it! Nobody uses craggy anymore. People really should use craggy more often. :-)

- The brief descriptions of the other heads? Can you sneak them into the story a little more? Like instead of simply dropping the person's name, their description, and what they do, vary it some? Instead of "Ivan Korloff, hawk-nosed, balding, his craggy face showing his age, shook his head", try something along the lines of "Ivan Korloff washed a hand over his face, trailing from receding hairline to hawkish nose to craggy whiskers." It will flow more and make the information feel less like it's being shoehorned in there. Not only that, but rather than just shaking his head, it gives a hint of weariness from the situation, from his job, from his age. Just a few word order changes and you can change the entire atmosphere of the scene. It will tense up the scene so much if you allow these talking heads (which is what they are since we don't know them) to show little hints of frustration like that. You've grazed it a little bit with Daffyd, but try to infuse the entire scene with it.

ON the flip side of that, though ... If we aren't supposed to care about these characters, if they are merely a way for you to get the information out that the heads of the colonies are worried that they aren't being listened to, then don't waste the words on them. If who they aren't doesn't matter, it doesn't matter what they look like and you can skip that kind of detail. If we aren't supposed to care specifically about Ivan as anything other than a Star Trek Ensign on his first away mission, we don't need to know what his nose looks like. Only their body language will be important then. Does the distinction make sense?

Do you hate me yet? ;-)

- Since you stated that the colonies were named for people who had walked on the moon, I would suggest that only one of them be away from the list to show that the exploration has continued beyond what we know now, but otherwise keep the list so that you have the name recognition. And don't use Glenn unless you make a note s/he is a descendant of John Glenn or you may have people correcting you on it, which would get annoying.

- Poor cubicle woman. Little does she know, huh?

- "the presidents of both Tracy Ventures' Aerospace, Transport, and Construction Divisions": the wording here is a little awkward. I couldn't figure out where the "both" was supposed to cut off. Switch out "both" for "each", maybe?

- "not with Gillian's royal blue skirt suit sitting as backdrop." *snerk* That's probably amusing me far more than it should. ;-)

- "Brains, stop that." *snerk* I love it!

- Poor Ned. Always ignored. Hee! And yet ... Aww ... I like Brains's little smile over it.

- I'm amused. The 6000 brings a whole new definition to "smart car". Run little (well, big) shuttle, run!

And on ...

Notes, Part 2

[thatgirlsix.livejournal.com]

And on ...


- Oh! A note I meant to make before regarding Rhea. The whole bit of her tapping her pens on her chin? Yes, definitely have her do it, but don't call attention to it. She does it enough that we'll pick up on the habit. If you then show Jeff doing it as well, we'll pick up on it. Just don't point to it and say "see, she's his daughter because they have the same habit". Trust your readers to see the habit and make of it what it is. That goes back to the entire thing about Mary Sue and how people deliberately point out characteristics, dropping the anvil on the readers' heads (YOU MUST NOTICE THAT I DID THIS) rather than subtly just doing it and trusting us to see it. So yes, I'm glad you did it here. Just edit it as something without neon in her first scene.

- Aw, poor Deke, not getting his lovin' from Alan. Hee!

- If Jeff wouldn't explain the relocation to Alan, why would Brains? If that was just a way to allow Brains to do the explaining since he's the one Alan's talking to, perhaps change it from "all Dad would say" to "Dad didn't have time to explain"? Because the wording of "all Dad would say" suggests that he was deliberately keeping the information from Alan, so Brains wouldn't want to divulge it then either.

- ""But I e-expect we'll be hearing more from, uh, these people in the future." DUH dun DUN! Nice ending.

So I like the action thrown in the midst of a lot of information coming in a row. Nicely done. Fun chapter. It was also good to see other familiar faces. I caught a few typos again, but they shouldn't be hard to spot when you read through again.

Keep it up, sweets. It's looking good. I'm totally on board. :-) Happy writing!

Re: Notes, Part 1

[tikatu.livejournal.com]

Thanks for letting me know about Glenn - I thought I'd done a better job on researching who had walked on the moon. The name "Banasik" is made up from my own imagination; the woman herself is a contemporary of Jeff's and will show up later. I kinda liked the idea of a Russian woman being the first woman on the moon. I've also pulled the name "Richards" (for Allison Richards) from "The Complete Thunderbirds Story" to replace Glenn. She'll be the second woman to walk on the Moon, and will be part of Jeff's second moon mission, even though in the comic book story, she was the first. Not sure if she'll turn up later.