3325/Look Upon My Works

Look Upon My Works
Date of Scene:	11 September 2020
Location:	The Seven Worlds: Gateway
Synopsis:	The four stranded Titans make first contact with the society of the Seven Worlds, and it's remarkably friendly. They even get gifts.
Cast of Characters:	Donna Troy, Terry O'Neil, Caitlin Fairchild, Victor Stone

---

Donna Troy has posed:
    The ship has now been closed down but for two corridors and six rooms. The drain on the power cells is definitely at a less worrying rate now, and a compact fusion reactor has been found in the remaining hangar deck, which hopefully will solve the problem of keeping those cells recharged. There won't be enough power even for maneuvering thrusters but there will be heat, light, oxygen recycling and power for a few computer systems. There are no beds, but a meeting room has had all its seats cannibalized and a comfortable enough approximation for futons has been made. There are some basic medicines that have been identified, though really only first-aid stuff

    There's even a shower. Blessed water! The ship is full of it. The one thing that is truly missing is food. There are a couple of snack machines on the bridge deck, but who knows what's in them - whether the snack bars have any neutrititional value or are indeed even edible has yet to be determined, and even Caitlin's enormous appetite has not driven her to try, quite yet.

    Most promising of all, distant drive signatures have been picked up further into the system. There are space ships not /too/ far away, though until the shuttle craft is repaired, out of reach.

    Below there is a water world, and on that water world is an island, and on that island lights have been seen. Lights mean people. People have food. They may have spare parts. It may even be possible to communicate with them well enough to find out where exactly the team have ended up.

    In short, it's beginning to look like there is hope!

    The ship floats a few hundred miles over the water world in a stable orbit of 87 minutes and 13 seconds, ship time, and the Titans stand over the imaging console in the bridge, waiting as the island appears around the curve of the globe and into view again. Scopes are ready for imaging, and imaging, hopefully, means a target for a Rabbit Hole. For this first step at least, they hopefully won't have to hold off until the shuttle is repaired.

    Donna taps her fingers along the console, waiting impatiently as the distance closes, agonizingly slowly. They'll have to wait a just a few more minutes until the island passes below, for an optimal imaging opportunity - and hope the clouds don't get in the way. "C'mon, c'mon," she mutters. "Don't make me get out and push..."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Although Vorpal had switched into his human form earlier today, when he was salvaging things with Donna, he is now in feline form. Not limping is nice, and the fact that Terry switches between two different bodies allows him to bypass injuries by switching forms, but right now the Rabbit Hole is something only Vorpal can do.

"Remember, 'good enough' /is/ good enough, I don't need a perfect view of the surroundings. A perfect view just makes it accurate, but if we have to drop in a considerable distance above-ground, I can use my Rabbit Holes to slow us down. Those of us who can't fly- that is, everybody but Donna."

He gives his team-mates a grin. His sprained ankle has been treated by ripping off the torn half of his uniform and using it as a compression bandage, leaving him in his shorts. This makes him look like the weirdest Saturday Morning jogger ever- he's only missing the Starphone holder strapped to his bicep and the little wireless earbuds that cost more than the phone itself.

"It's not exactly a smooth process, but... you've been on rollercoasters before right?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Donna can fly and I can survive low-orbit impacts," Caitlin tells Terry. She's picking a thumbnail against her teeth, a sure sign of stress. Her own attire looks fairly clean; a trip through the showers with some self-repairing material will do that. Heat and time heals most wounds, and the self-repairing polymer was meant to prevent wardrobe malfunctions.

"We've got to find some medical supplies," she mumbles. Eye stay fixed to the island on the scanner. "And food. I can eat almost anything, but you guys could get really sick if we have some non-human foodstuffs. Terry, you need painkillers, and Vic needs analgesics. If we've got anything for trade or barter, that'd be good to have in mind when we're down there. I don't think they take Visa."

Victor Stone has posed:
"Geez, guys, what am I, chopped silicon? I can fly, too." Vic says with a sidelong pout as he adjusts their optics. "These aren't my /best/ flying limbs, and they don't seem to be working quite right, but they've still got basic rocket shoes. I wouldn't dogfight today, but I can do a nice simple slow-fall. Probably even carry someone else, if needed."

His gaze shifts over to Caitlin and he adds, "All we've got to barter are the parts on this junked ship. I grabbed a couple of shiny-looking things, but we'll see if they're actually valuable to the people here when we meet them. It's a little weird that they haven't come to meet us, if there are ships in the system. We're not exactly built for stealth. We're barely built at all, at the moment." He shrugs a little awkwardly. "I guess maybe the lack of powered-up systems might have made us /sort/ of more difficult to detect. But a large mass appearing in orbit should still have drawn some kind of interest."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "I'm not sure I'd call it /flying/ exactly Vic," Donna says with a broad grin. "But yeah, Cy has his junior jet-man rocket boots. Not ideal for a round-the world flight, but easily adequate for a landing. Rabbit hole to a couple of hundred people up and I'll carry Vorp and Cait down. No rollercoaster necessary."

    It's a sign of a more mature Donna. Vic and Caitlin remember a Donna from the early days of the Titans who wouldn't just be tapping her fingers on the console impatiently, she'd probably have jumped out of the spaceship with a camera to get some close-ups for Vorpal hours ago. Without bothering to discuss it first, or mention that she was going.

    As the broken dreadnought continues its orbit the island slides slowly towards the ship and beneath it, the camera taking image after image to combine and enhance the detail. As the island appears on the screen pre-enhancement, it's hard to make out much. It's not large - perhaps a mile across - but it's green, which is a good sign. A few whisps of cloud pass over, but there's reasonable seeing and with plenty of images to combine the data should be plentiful.

    "Once we're down there, we can come and go as we like. Let's figure out how things stand first, and negotiate later. Realistically we must have a fair scrap value here in this hulk, but let's hold back as much as possible. Loose items, rare earth metals, stuff like that. We're going to need to barter passage home soon, and I'm planning on trading salvage rights for that."

    The island passes below and out of view. There is a short pause as the computer works, and then an image appears on the screen. To one end of the island is group of four rectangular structures with sloped roofs, and one large round or cylindrical object - perhaps a storage tank. There is a large rectangular patch bare of grass, or whatever the green ground covering is, that could be a landing pad. What looks like a small boat is moored up, and there are dots that might just be grazing animals.

    Donna's face breaks into a huge grin as the image appears. "I think we can call that promising," she says.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Nono Cait, hon, save the painkillers for those that need 'em. I can turn into Terry and my ankle will be fine until the next time I Vorpal. We can wait until we got home to do the medicine thing." He fixes his eyes on the area, and nods thoughtfully. "I think I can get us to ground level... you know, Vic, when we get back, I need to bribe you into making me some rocket boots. They sound awesome."

When, not if. Positivity. He's the Cheshire Cat, so who knows if good thoughts, faith and pixie dust won't help them a little? That's how fairy tales work, right?

Too bad he's not from a fairy tale.

"Alright, cap'n. I'm charging the station. Power levels nominal, coordinates locked on... and...."

He extends his hands before him, "Energize!"

The Rabbit Hole manifests noiselessly, looking onto that patch bereft of green stuff.

He frowns, and realizes that if they step through, they'll be falling down onto that patch. "Adjusting angle..."

The patch of brown moves, and soon the Rabbit Hole is oriented so that it perpendicular to the ground, instead of facing it.

"Third floor: Lingerie, fishnet stockings and fish tackle!" he gestures for his team-mates to step through.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's backpack-- a useful tool for the stranded traveller-- had been emptied out and refilled with barter material. There's some human-edible food in the form of ration packs. Enough to last Caitlin a few days, or the three other Titans most of a week. She shoulders it up and heads to the portal. Her neck cranes this way and that before she steps through it.

And falls out of sight. There's a half-second between her disappearing and an *oof*, and some dust flying up. Caitlin pops to her feet with her head on level with the lowest limit of the portal's 'floor'. Index finger and thumb are held an inch apart and she looks through them to Terry.

"Missed it by -that- much."

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic half-frowns over at Donna. "I mean, I'm not a Superman-tier flier, but I can do a reasonable Iron Man thing with just about any set of combat legs, and a little better with a set built for it," he grumbles, a little sharply. Then, with a suddenly regretful expression, holds up a hand, and runs through a little motion-calibration pattern with his fingers for about the thousandth time since he woke up. It doesn't execute quite right, also for about the thousandth time.

"Sorry. I'm a little twitchy about the prosthetics right now because... well, because they're a little twitchy. I don't know if it's a problem with the nerve interface or with the internals or what, but they're just... off. Like I've never worn them before. I haven't had time to figure out what's up with them, what with having to figure out what's up with everything else on this ship, and I'm just... I'm on edge," he confesses.

He shakes his head, stands, and clanks through the newly opened portal, executing a slightly shaky rocket burn down to the surface. "I'll see what I can do, Vorpal," he answers, a touch of his usual humor returning at Cait's pratfall. "It's a little trickier when you have to leave room for a foot, but I'm sure I can come up with a compromise that'll work."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna drifts more down a more leisurely pace than gravity would require, though in comparison to Earth, this is true for all of them. Gravity is about ten percent lower than Earth's - though after a few hours on a ship with Gravity running at 0.3g to conserve power, it'll take a few minutes to stop feeling heavy.

    When she's on the ground she sidles up to Cyborg and raises an eyebrow at him. Afer a second or two she breaks into a huge grin and squeezes his arm. "I'm teasing Vic. We're gonna be okay. This is /us/. We're going to do this. We're all a little on edge, I mean... who wouldn't be. But We're Titans. And we're together. We got this. One thing though... comparing yourself to Iron Man? Naaah. You're Victor Stone, no way I'd trade." She gives him a wink, and looks around.

    The building are interestingly ramshackle - made from quite random pieces of metal, some sheets of very familiar looking corrugated... steel perhaps? While other sections of wall look like they could have once been parts of a space ship. The smallest of the buildings - the size of a rather small house - has a roof that looks like it's made from tree branches, and windows that look like they were stolen from a cockpit. The grass-free area is hardened earth, and bears a number of dark patches, perhaps the sign of engines landing there, and the sounds of a strange honking-bleating from not far away indicate the guess about animals was correct - a herd of something analogous to a goat is grazing peacefully in a fenced off field.

    The door of the smallest building opens, and a man stands in the doorway, looking at the new arrivals. He could be human. He looks old, though not decrepit. His hair is white and unkempt, and his clothes are ragged, but he looks hale and fit, his bare arms wirey with muscle.

    "Welcome, welcome," the old man calls out. "You look human. Several of you, anyway. I don't suppose you speak English?"

    Donna turns to look to the others, wide-eyed.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I agree with Donna. Iron Man seems so full of himself, you're way cooler." Vorpal is the last one through the Rabbit Hole, and he keeps it open until there's an all clear. To Cait, he gives an apologetic grin, "Sorry, I've only had the remedial Starfleet Academy classes. Next week we're learning how /not/ to have transporter accidents."

When the old man comes out, Vorpal looks just as astonished as Donna, but then he mutters "You /did/ say chaos just happens around me, didn't you?" and he takes a step forward, his arm raised in greeting.

"Why hello my good man. Yes, we actually happen to speak English. Because of course..." he gestures to the others, "I am Vorpal, and these are my friends..." he will let them introduce themselves, because it would be rude to presume how they would want to introduce themselves. He keeps weight off his injured foot, but that's okay because contraposto never goes out of style anywhere in the galaxy.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Let the person with the high Charisma take point; Caitlin hangs back a pace, offering the stranger only a smile and a wave of greeting. She's certainly pretty enough, but Terry's got the gift of gab as sure as if his parents had dandied him on the Blarney Stone as a baby.

When Vic lands, Caitlin reaches out and gives his flesh arm a gentle squeeze. "Hey." The redhead looks at him. "I'll take care of you. Don't worry," she promises Vic. "Whatever's going on with your augments. It's nothing we can't figure out." A flickering smile crosses his face. "I mean it can't be as bad as that time Gar put canola oil in your lube resevoir." Vic is given a little nudge that turns into a sidelong hug of sincere sisterly affection for the Titan's Tin Man.

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic's eyes widen when he thinks back to Gar's prank, and he snorts and shakes his head. "Man, I hope not. And thanks," he answers her quietly. Giving her a quick, fond glance, he hesitates for just a second, but then returns the hug. With his actuators off-calibration, he would probably /not/ return a hug if it weren't someone like Cait, who can endure an over-tight hydraulic squeeze much better than most.

After releasing her, he steps forward and jumps in with what he considers a relevant detail, pointing at Vorpal and explaining, "He's also -- well, not human, exactly, but we're all from Earth. We're superheroes, not aliens. Are you...?"

His artificial eye flares red as he runs some basic scans on the improvised structures, which were fairly obviously cobbled together from spaceship parts. This is disheartening: if the ship were able to take off again, they probably wouldn't have scrapped it for a house, which makes it less likely than they might hope that these people will be able to offer them much help.

"Let me ask it this way: what year was it when you took off?" He's starting to have some suspicions about the nature of their location and the wormhole they passed through. He doesn't know offhand of any missing manned starships, which seems like it would be really big news. He needs to figure out where -- and possibly when -- this guy came from.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "How do you speak..." Donna begins, but the man interrupts before she can finish the question.

    "Which means, which means..." he stares down at a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "Ah, well I can guess which one is Cyborg, and hmm... let's see. Troia sounds like a red-headed sort of a name, so I will guess the tall red-head is Troia and the other one must be Caitlin, hmm? Yes, yes. Nice to have a few more humans, not enough of us around these parts in my opinion. Easier on you too, means you won't have to learn English before you can speak with people around here. Hmm. Hmm. In answer to your question... forty three... seventy one? Something like that. Such a long time ago, I do lose these details. Or was it thirty-four? Yes. Thirty four seventy one. No! Sixty seven, Yes. Fourty three sixty seven, I'm quite sure of it now. Quite sure. And you'd be oh, twenty fourth, twenty third by now? Something like that, hmm? Well, come on, come on. Let's get started. I'm sure you're all hungry. "

    He shuffles his walking-staff to his other hand, turns, and walks inside the building, leaving the door open.

    Donna looks at the other three, blinking. Of all the scenarios she had gone through in her mind, and she had gone through many, this was nowhere near the list.

    "What just happened?" She asks faintly.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh Flamingo," Vorpal says, eyebrows raised, "Time travel." He shoots a glance at Vic, "I hate time travel. I had better not become my own grandfather as a result of this, I'm saying. In any case, we shouldn't leave our host waiting... he's clearly been waiting for some time. A time. The time. Whatever."

The Cheshire starts limping forward, not liking this, but realizing that they pretty much only had one way of getting answers.

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic shrugs and answers Troia, "One way to find out," and follows the man into his scrap-metal home. His gait is still clumsy and a little lopsided, but he's scanning away eagerly at this structure. If this really is tech from the 3400s (or 4300s -- how do you mix THOSE up?) the materials and construction should be noticeably extremely advanced, even repurposed in this fashion.

"If you're asking what century we're from, it's the twenty-first," he answers, adding, "Sorry, what should we call you? And switch up Caitlin and Troia, you guessed those backward."

To Vorpal, he advises in an undertone, "I think you can avoid that pretty easily by just keeping it in your pants. You're spoken for, anyway, right?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Uh... yeah. Thanks Cy. Yeah, what he said. I'm Troia, she's Caitlin," Donna agrees as she follows Victor into the interior of the somewhat patchwork house. "Red hair is definitely a Caitlin thing, not a Troia thing."

    The interior has a certain rustic frontier charm to it, though it's not any frontier that makes a whole lot of sense. The door opens up into a large, obviously general-purpose room with a cast iron stove at one end of it, a homely wooden table in the middle, and a workbench with a rather advanced looking computer on it at the other end.

    "Come on in, come on in," the old man repeats as he makes his way over to the stove to tend a huge pot bubbling away on it. A herby casserole smell fills the room. "I hope you all eat meat?" he asks. "Oh, and call me Gatekeeper, everyone else does. This planet is Gateway, and I'm the Gatekeeper. New arrivals always end up in orbit here, and I've been waiting to greet them for... oh, a very long time. Twenty-first century you said? More'n a couple of thousand years yet. "

    He gestures towards the table, where six places are set. "Do take a seat. I have beer, will that suit you all? Lucan may have some wine with him if you prefer, he should be here any time now. Otherwise it's water."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"You never know what can happen with Time Travel, Vic, don't you watch sci-fi shows?" Vorpal quips. He is walking lopsided as well, limping from his sprained ankle, so he and Vic make good book-ends to the party. "Of course I'm spoken for, by your best buddy. Gods I hope he's alright..." he frowns.

Once at the interior, he wastes no time in sitting down to spare his ankle the strain. "Gatekeeper... if Sigourney Weaver comes in anouncing she's the keymaster, I'm going back to the ship. Just to everybody knows where we stand here..."

He waves, "I'm not old enough to drink, but thank you, er, Gatekeeper. I guess I'll get down to the curious cat questions and ask- what is this planet a Gate to? I imagine that comes bundled in with the info of how you have knowldedge of us...

Victor Stone has posed:
"Beer and meat are two of my robot body's essential nutrients," Vic answers with a smile. "Good to meet you, Gatekeeper. So people end up here a lot? That's kind of a relief, I guess. Where exactly /is/ here? Generally, I mean -- not just planet Gateway. It doesn't seem connected to the rest of the universe properly. It doesn't seem to match the physics of the rest of the universe, either."

Vorpal gets a quick snort. "Vorp, I /am/ a sci-fi show. I don't need to watch them." He raises an eyebrow and glances over at the Gatekeeper, then back at Vorpal. "I don't think this looks like the kind of place with a drinking age. One beer probably won't hurt, unless you just don't want one."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Why it's a gate to Here, of course," The old man tells Vorpal. "I told you, everyone who comes Here arrives in orbit around this world; it's the incidence point from the outer-universe. Now come on, take a seat!"

    Donna looks to the others, shrugs her shoulder and takes a seat. "Yeah... why are there no stars visible?" she asks as the old man fills bowls with a delicious-smelling stew and starts placing them around the table. "Are we cut off from the rest of the universe?"

    "Well, hmm. I don't suppose they would fit," Gatekeeper replies to her with a wink, putting a bowl of stew in front of her. Her stomach rumbles.

    "Whether it matches the physics of the rest of the universe is a question much discussed in Here, young man," he tells Victor while delivering another portion of the stew. "There are those who argue that the laws of physics are the same, it's just the enviroment is so peculiar it's hard to notice. Lucan's a better man to answer those questions than me though. Think of me more as a native guide than a physicist, please! For example I can help guide you with which of the worlds you might wish to settle on, now that you are Here."

    Vorpal is delivered his own bowl of stew, and a mug of beer; as Vic said, there are apparently no such laws on Gateway. Given there appeared to be only one island, it's possible the Gatekeeper is the only inhabitant.

    "We're not planning to settle on any of the worlds here," Donna informs Gatekeeper. "We're just passing through.

    "Aaah. Yes. Unfortunately that's not really possible. Getting in is fairly easy - thousands have done it. Getting out is not really an option, I'm afraid. However we do have a fairly... ah, I do believe I hear Lucan.

    Outside the house, a rumbling can be heard. Faint at first, but growing louder and louder, the sound of thrusters silences the conversation for a few moments, then falls silent. "Yes. He'll be here in a moment." Gatekeeper places a bowl of stew in front of Caitlin, and the thrusters give one last rumble - or was that Caitlin's stomach?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Gatekeeper's pronouncement upsets Vorpal who, despite being just as hungry as the rest (except Caitlin, who is hungrier), doesn't make a move for the stew. "We're not settling anywhere here, Gatekeeper. " His hands clench, but he maintains his composure otherwise. Far be it from him to get too angry and ruin the team's only chance at food. "Who says it isn't possib-"

His voice is drowned out by the thrusters, and so he keeps a respectful silence, not intending to get into a shouting match with technology, but he looks absolutely miserable for a second, one hand blasping the mug of beer, but without downing it.

Victor Stone has posed:
One of these days, Vic is going to have to learn that trick whereby people pronounce Capitalization. You'd think with his advanced sonic synthesis engine he could pull it off, but the Gatekeeper's trick of making Here a proper noun puts his best efforts to shame.

He raises his voice to be heard over the thrusters and continues his line of inquiry. "So, this is some kind of pocket universe, limited in scale, if I'm understanding you right. And there are a bunch of refugees trapped here, who arrived from different time periods and settled on the planets in the system. Do you know how the planets got here in the first place? Did they arrive before or after the people -- or did some arrive with whole populations?" The thrusters cut just before the last two words, leaving him shouting WHOLE POPULATIONS in a quiet room, sort of inappropriately. "Er, sorry," he adds, at a conversational level.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's never one to let a good meal get between her and science, and coming up on 24 hours since her last hot meal she digs into the stew with aplomb. Heaven only knows what the meat is from; best they can do is hope it's some kind of bovine-adjacent native wildlife.

"Pocket dimension seems most likely," Caitlin agrees, quietly. "Basic physical properties are the same, but it would explain the gravimetric distortions and the lack of stars. Not totally sure how it's *possible*," she admits, "but theoretical astrophysics isn't really my area of expertise."

The thrusters are coming on fast and there's food to be had; Caitlin uplifts her bowl and drinks heavily to make sure no one interrupts her meal before she's finished. A beer gets pounded, too, unusual for the teetotaler she is.

"This... 'Lucan'. Is he friendly to outsiders, or should be expecting trouble?" she asks, pointedly.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "We don't know for sure how the planets got here," Gatekeeper replies to Vic. "Though there are many theories. Almost everyone agrees the whole thing must be artificial though. The planets are all habitable, and populated by those who have fallen into Here, and the descendants of those who have fallen into Here." He really /is/ good at the capitalization. "It's not so much different time periods as a steady flow. I was the first to arrive, and as people arrive in reverse order that means that Here must have been created not too long after I first fell through."

    A booming, jovial voice calls from outside. "Gatekeeper! Did your guests arrive? I saw their ship in orbit. What a wreck! Never seen anything like it. Leaving your carbon filters in the shed, okay?"

    "Yes yes!" Gatekeeper calls back as he brings another bowl to the table, and then starts making his way from place to place with a large pottery jug of beer, filling cups or topping them up. After a moment's pause he leaves the jug on the table close to Caitlin."They are here and full of questions! Drop off the filters and come greet them. Food is served!

    "Delightful!" the booming voice replies.

    "An artificial pocket dimension is one possibility," he agrees pleasantly with Cailtin. "There are those who say it was created by forcing a singularity inside another singularity, creating an interference zone of non-relativistic space, though my mathematics are not up to understanding why that wouldn't be a spherical shell rather than a distorted toroid. The explanation I prefer is that someone tried to create a klein wormhole. Folding the wormhole vector in on itself so that one end opens up directly on the other end, you see, a two-dimensional manifold formed of a 4-dimensional q-brane. Those who follow that hypothesis argue that the effect was to cause the entirely of the universe to collapse into a singularity over an infinite amount of time, which is instantaneous to a viewer outside of it. If that theory is correct, the enture universe is inside the black hole out there. I'm not sure if the physics of it all holds up, but I like the poetry of the concept."

     Donna takes a spoonful of the stew and sniffs at it suspciously, watching Caitlin as she wolfs her portion down. It smells delicious. She shrugs to the other three, and eats it. "Great Hera I'm hungry. This tastes good. Thank you, Gatekeeper.

    "Lucan's a trader," Gatekeeper says. "We have a limited number of working ships; they are kept busy trading between the worlds. Lucan's..."

    The front door opens, and Lucan enters. Donna gets to her feet quickly, one hand reaching for her lasso. "...A Warzoon," she says.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry follows immediately after, springing to his feet though he has no weapons to draw.

It's also followed, a second later, by a slow wince and by him moving his weight off his left foot. His eyes glow purple for a second, and the tiniest spark of purple appears at his fingertip before vanishing. Fortunately, he is removed enough from being your regular housecat that he doesn't actively /hiss/, but if looks could kill, right now Gatekeeper would be looking for a good stain remover. He resists his first impulse, which is to open a Rabbit Hole and airlock the Warzoon on sight. Mostly because that would probably suck everybody else in, too.

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic tucks into his own stew while Gatekeeper answers, although it's hard to match Caitlin for pure culinary gusto. He's not going to worry too much about the meat's provenance; the man does appear to be human, so even if it's from something weird, it's got to at least be nutritious.

For his own part, he does not react to Lucan's arrival with any hostility. He remains seated, and reaches out to scoot the unclaimed stew bowl toward the newcomer. "Come on, guys, sit back down," he chides Vorpal and Donna. "Now who hasn't been paying attention to science fiction? We're trapped in a pocket universe, isolated from our home cultures and moving around independently of the normal timeline. Normal alliances and enmities don't apply. Also, we're guests in someone else's home. Let's not be rude."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Vorp!" Caitlin's on her feet fast as she dares, and interposing herself between Vorpal and Lucan. She pointedly stares at Vorpal until the (literal) hair on his neck stands down, and then gives his arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to face Lucan. "Sorry. We, uh... recently had an unpleasant encounter with some Warzoon," Caitlin says. It's put quite delicately. "My friend's a little twitchy, is all. No one here means any harm-- and we don't want to insult our host's hospitality." Time spent in Asgard has cued Caitlin in to the exquisite proprieties of culture, and she nods deferentially to the Gatekeeper.

All the same, were someone to draw a gun and try to shoot Vorpal, Caitlin's positioned nicely to sidestep into the flight path.

Donna Troy has posed:
    For all her readiness, Donna does not move from where she stands or act aggressively; on the contrary she holds a restraining hand out to Vorpal to ensure /he/ doesn't leap to the attack. "Just being cautious, Vic," she replies, her eyes fixed on the Warzoon.

    "Oh my ancestors perhaps," Lucan agrees with a booming laugh. "But I am a proud Gombar! The sanest and most sensible folk you'll find in this place. And you appear to be... Daxians? Humans, perhaps?" He beams a toothy smile at Caitlin, and walks to the table perfectly unruffled to take his seat.

    "Please do not worry, we are all friends Here," he says, nodding to Donna and Vorpal. Apparently, pronouncing capital letters is an important life-skill in this realm. "With so much room to share amongst so few, and without all those tedious ties of history and politics to interfere with people just getting /on/ with life, there's very little conflict here." He glances at Gatekeeper. "Well, apart from on Alfort, of course. Quite insane. Quite sad." He takes a deep draft of beer and sits back with a satisfied "Aaaaah."

    Donna nods her head to him slowly, and sits back down to resume eating.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal slowly sinks back down into his seat, nodding to Caitlin and Donna. Victor's predictions turn out to be accurate enough, so he gives Lucan a slow nod, "Yes, I apologize. Took me by surprise, is all."

He doesn't add 'Just a little bit ago I was clawing your ancestors' faces off, is why', because that would just be a social faux pas at this moment. He tries the stew for the first time, and finds it to be delicious. He continues to find it delicious all throughout his discovery of how hungry he actually was.

"Gatekeeper told us that leaving here is impossible?" he adds, nudging the question along like a toddler first learning to walk, afraid it will fall flat on its face.

Victor Stone has posed:
"Yeah, humans," Vic confirms. Then he appends, "Ish." Amazons and cyborgs and GMOs and Wonderland-ified, all of them. File it under 'I'll explain later.' "Gombar are the descendants of the Warzoon, or a separate faction of the same species? Enlighten a mere 21st century boy." He's genuinely curious, wondering if their actions might have splintered the Warworld inhabitants, or pushed their culture onto a different course -- but also, it's rarely a bad idea to show interest in someone you've just met. Get them talking about themselves, learn a little, and inspire friendly feelings.

Along a similar tack: "So, what's the deal with Alfort? We're trying to get the lay of the land, here."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin gestures at Vic's question while taking her own seat. "I-- like I said, not an expert in theoretical physics," she remarks. "I got most of what you were trying to say, though. But it stands to reason there should still be a ... nexus? An inverted singularity?" she hazards. "-Something- that would eject us from this place. Uh, Here," she tries again.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be pushy," she tells Gatekeeper, and includes Lucan in that apology. "You walked right into the middle of a fascinating discussion. We're trying to figure out how to get home and we're just trying to understand our whole... situation here."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Lucan is having none of the apologies. "Think nothing of it!" he tells Vorpal, with a smile that while worrying toothy really does seem genuinenly friendly. "You're new, it's all disorienting, I entirely understand!" If only all Warzoon were like this!

    Gatekeeper does a round of introductions, and another round of topping up people's beers. For all the oddness of the situation, there's something very homely about it. They may be on an alien world orbiting a black hole and in the company of a member of a race that just tried to destroy the earth, but on the other hand they're having a proper (and really delicious) meal around a table, with friendly people speaking English. "Lucan of course says that everyone should settle Gombar. You'll find that a very common sentiment. Most people do love their own worlds. We have been free to find our own solutions to the problems of society here, you see. Each world has developed its own ways to do things, and newcomers generally do find somewhere that suits them well."

    "Ah well, Gombar is the sanest of the worlds. Call me biased if you like! I do not mind. Nonetheless, the others are at least eccentric." He nods his head to Vic. "Gombar is a world, you see. The populations are mixed; you'll find all sorts on every world. Alfort is the least sane of the worlds. They can't stop fighting there! Still, it is their solution to the problem of society, and it serves a purpose I suppose. There are those who cannot let go of the desire to fight, and they can find satisfaction on Alfort."

    Gatekeeper raises his mug to his lips, then gestures towards Caitlin with it. "Ah, you're talking about a white hole," he says.

    "Ahhhh, the white hole" Lucan replies with a nod. "Endovar." To Vorpal he says "Leaving is impossible, unless you believe the legends of Endovar." He belches a beery belch, says "Pardon me," and digs into his stew with relish.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well..." Vorpal says, after listening, "I am the Cheshire Cat. That in and of itself is impossible, and where I come from, six impossible things before breakfast is no biggie." He gratefully accepts more stew and begins to eat, "Legends are no small thing to us either. And this one over here..." he thumbs in Donna's direction "How well do you remember your Herodotus?"

He licks his lips, savoring the stew and being very careful not to wonder where it comes from.

"You've given us food and shelter and for that we are extremely grateful. Would it be too presumptuous to ask for a storytime treat and have you tell us about the legends of Endovar?"

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic is a fairly dab hand at theoretical physics, although he's really more interested in applied science. He can follow what they're discussing fairly easily, although he couldn't produce the equations without some reference materials, and he'd never even considered physically achieving such spatial distortions.

Still, it's pretty clear where their practical interests lie, and he nods along with Vorpal's request. "Yeah, let's hear these legends, if you don't mind, and we can decide whether or not they're worth believing," he says. "I'll warn you, we're predisposed to take seriously anything that could potentially get us out of here. But while you're at it, I'm also curious about these worlds and their hierarchy of 'sanity...' How did that come about?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Herodotus?" Lucan asks curiously. "Hmm, no, the name is not familiar. Friend of yours?"

    "All the worlds have their place," Gatekeeper says, "Even Alfort. Each planet is an experiment, if you like. An opportunity to start afresh and find new solutions to the problems of society. Each encompasses certain theories of life and have bred those theories into their populaces. Inevitably each considers itself the most perfect of all societies, and thus all others to be flawed, if not entirely deranged."

    "Echon is perhaps the least popular for newcomers, for reasons that will be obvious when you visit it. Those who live here consider it a paradise of course, and to them it apparently is. They are a happy people, but the rules of their society are impenentrable to outsiders. Over the centuries they have developed a concept of behaviour and decorum that they call 'fisk'. To the Echonians, fisk is paramount! To be rich in fisk is to be a prince; you will be feted by all. Those who have no fisk are considered conteptible; perhaps even criminal. To even consort with such low folks is considered poor form".

    Gatekeeper sips his beer ruminatively. "And what is this 'fisk', you might ask? A good question. A fine question! And there's the rub. There is no deed more lacking in fisk than to admit to not understanding it! It is quite a conundrum to outsiders."

    Lucan pushes his empty bowl aside and loosens his belt. He sits back, legs splayed, and looks around the group pleasantly. "Endovar is a myth!" he declares. "Or rather, he was no doubt real, but much of what is said about him is surely myth. He lived perhaps eight hundred years ago, and was the terror of the seven worlds. He was the pirate captain of a mighty battleship, and the undeclared ruler of Here. He was feared by many and loved by more. A million tales are told of why he vanished, but vanish he did."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"This 'fisk' thing sounds like someone took the idea behind 'the game' and got way too carried away with it..." Vorpal says, smirking a little. "And where did this Endovar vanish? Being that he can't really have gone somewhere without eventualy being discovered because..." he spreads his hands, implying 'where COULD he go?'

Victor Stone has posed:
"Whuffie," Vic murmurs, offering a potential synonym for fisk, bringing it back to science fiction again. "Or Klout, maybe." For the social media addicts among them. "Your peers rate you, and their ratings are weighted by their own rating, and in theory, those of the most social utility -- or those who are best admired by their peers -- rise to the top?" he suggests. "Community did a whole episode about it."

As for Endovar, he intertwines his fingers, except for his pointers, which he attempts to tap together thoughtfully. They miss each other. "I might be able to set something up to trace a battleship's drive trail. Eight hundred years isn't /great/ for dispersal, but you never know. Where was he known to hang around?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Well, according to the tales, and tales they are," Lucan says, settling back comfortably, "Endovar discovered a white hole, in orbit of the black hole, and he hid it. Hid a white hole! Absurd. Nevertheless, so the story goes. He somehow hid the white hole, so that none of his victims could escape him. Then one day there was a new arrival. A battleship, crewed by Koranians. Eltovar's ship, the Beating Heart, had been unstoppable until then, but the Koranian ship was its equal. The Koranians demanded the secret, and the two ships battled across the system for weeks. There are songs sung about it, but they tend to be long; I'll spare you the details. Finally, or so the story goes, the Beating Heart was dealt a fatal blow. The crew evacuated before it crashed, abandoning Endovar. Yet it is said that Endovar himself fled in a shuttle craft, to the hidden white hole, to leave Here forever. Some claim he returned, a hundred years later, in remorse. But that's the kind of thing people say."

    He shrugs his shoulders. "You perhaps met him, Gatekeeper?" he asks. "Would you not have been here to greet him when he first arrived? While you're thinking, refill my glass. Narrating tales is thirsty work!"

    Gatekeeper looks thoughtful. "I suppose I must have," he concedes as he refills everyone's beer. "But my memory is not what it was."

    "So there you have it," Lucan continues. "Myths and fairy tales. Oh, there is some truth there. The Koranian ship is supposedly a museum now - on Nim, is it? Yes, I think it might be Nim. There are people on my world who claim to be descended from those of his crew who evacuated. The white hole though? Plenty of people have looked for it, but I have heard of none who found it."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Plenty of people on Earth looked for the mythical Amazons and never found them. Until the Amazons came to /them/." The Cheshire cat's tail swishes, his brain working overdrive, "That nobody has found this white hole doesn't mean it's not there. Merely that it's very well hidden... or.... they're looking in the wrong place."

He frowns, "The Koranian ship is a museum? I wonder..." he peers at Vic, "The Beating Heart crashed somewhere. I wonder if anyone's looked for it. The on-board computer, if it could be salvaged..." he lets the thought hang there for a few seconds, "Food for thought. There's much to think about, but I think we should visit some of these worlds. There are clues to be gathered, I think..."

He looks down at himself, and then up at Lucan. "You're a trader, so maybe we might need your help. If you have clothes I might be able to use. I don't want to give a bad impression to these other planets. And I'm kind of mostly naked." Walking around in short shorts isn't really something that screams Ambassador To An Alien Species here...

Victor Stone has posed:
"Hiding a white hole does sound unlikely," Vic admits, "but no more so than habitable planets placidly orbiting a black hole at this short distance and low speed, with no stars to warm them. Like Vorpal said, we should check out this museum, try to talk to those descendants and get the history of the Beating Heart, then maybe locate the scene of that battle and see what we can learn there."

He raises his beer to their hosts and says, "Thanks, to both of you. Not just for the meal and the drink -- but I think you've given us a good starting point."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I think-- if it's not an imposition-- a map of the system would be most helpful," Caitlin suggests. She looks at the others, then shrugs. "It sounds like we're going to need to do some sleuthing to figure out how to get out of here. Maybe a fresh set of highly motivated eyes addressing the problem can fix it."

"But like Terry said, Amazons were a myth for a long time. Myths start from fact though. Even if it's not a true white hole, it's a *something*, and someone left and returned through it. Right now, it's better than our current option, which is drifting in space indefinitely."

Caitlin exhales wearily through her nose. "We do have some things for barter. Not much," she tells Lucan and Gatekeeper. "But plenty of water, some refined metals and computer circuits, that sort of thing. We need food, or synthesizers of some kind, clothes for Terry, and some biolubricants and medical supplies compatible with human anatomy. If you've got any."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna stares curiously at Gatekeeper, but keeps her counsel for now, sitting back comfortably, ignoring any talk of Amazons and sipping her beer as she watches him offering more stew around.

    "If it's clothes you want, Vorpal, I suggest you look in the Commons before you leave, the round storehouse at the back." Lucan gives him a big smile. "Anything you good people are in need of, that's there to help yourself, but please do Gatekeeper a favor and leave anything you can spare there for the next visitors to come through. Your ship appears to be huge, but in a rather poor state, so I imagine you have both a lot of needs and a lot of spare scrap, too."

    "As for barter," he says grinning toothily at Cailtin, "Well the people Here have needs that are best supplied by the ships that fall through. Our industrial bases are not extensive. Metals have some value, but computer circuitry is virtually currency. If you happen to have any kind of fabrication equipment that would be most valuable. Perhaps I could come up to your vessel and look around? I have some limited supplies on my own ship that we may be able to come to a deal over. Equipment that may help you with repairs. Medical supplies I am afraid I am not carrying on this journey, but if you visit the starport on Echon you'll find traders there who are trained to tolerate us poor outworlders with our impoverishment of 'fisk.' I can advise you on what you may have that will be of value to them, and I am sure they will be able to supply you with medicines. For all their strangeness, the people of Echon do excel at medicine."

    Lucan grins another broad, toothy grin at the Gatekeeper as he accepts a second helping of the stew, hungrily. It's really good stew. "As for the Beating Heart... oh many have looked," Lucan agrees with a smile to Vorpal. "Amongst those on my world who claim descent from the crew, it's a popular past-time. Everyone agrees that there's a vast amount of loot buried on several of the worlds, and the details would be in the navigation logs. They teach their children the secret navigation codes to this day, in the hopes that one day the ship will be found. The White Hole though? If such a thing exists, Endovar was supposed to have kept it secret even from his crew. I do not recommend you go hunting treasure or holes, my friends. It's a waste of time, and some who obsess over it waste their whole lives that way. The sad thing is those few who cannot leave thoughts of going home behind them are the least happy. Once you have settled on a world to live on, you'll see. You may miss your homes now, but this is a happy place, and few indeed who have lived here long enough to get over the loss of the worlds they used to know would wish to leave."

    "We won't waste our time Lucan," Donna says firmly. "But we /are/ going home. However idyllic your worlds may be, we have people we care for, and duties to attend, back home. We will discover Endovar's secret, and we will leave. This is a fact."

    Lucan and Gatekeeper share a glance - probably this is something they have heard often enough in the past. Donna is not finished though. "I have a question Lucan," Donna says, though she's still stealing glances at the Gatekeeper. "You said there's a story that Endovar returned. If he had, where would he have gone?"

    "Who knows. He is said to have had a private base in an asteroid; perhaps he would have gone there to watch the worlds he once lorded over and meditate. Or perhaps he has turned his back on glories and farms the soil in some small commune. It's all myth, though."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna nods her head to him and turns to Gatekeeper. "And if he /had/ returned, he would have returned here, and you would know, because you'd have met him when he returned. You knew our names before we arrived - does anyone come here without you knowing?" Gatekeeper starts to speak, but Donna holds her hand up to silence him and continues. "When Lucan asked you if you'd met him when he first arrived, you said your memory was poor, but that you 'supposed so'. That was not the truth. I am sorry Gatekeeper - you have been very kind to us. But you know that was not the truth, and I know that you know. We /are/ going to leave here and we /are/ going home, whatever it takes. Nothing will sway us from this, and nothing will stand in our way. Please tell me what you know. Tell us where to find him."

    Lucan looks mildly surprised, but that surprise grows to astonishment when after a few moments, Gatekeeper lowers his head and sighs. "Yes," he whispers. "Yes, he did return. But that was a very long time ago." He shakes his head sadly, then looks up again, and his gaze sweeps the table, eyes stopping in turn on Caitlin, Victor and Vorpal. "Lucan speaks the truth; you would be happy here, and fulfilled. If you follow this quest, you will likely fail and bring yourselves only heartache. But... do you all share this determination? Does she speak for you all?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The Cheshire listens politely and peers at the Gatekeeper with suspicion when Donna betrays his lie. When he is asked if he is of the same mind as Donna, he slowly rises to his feet and, in the spirit of the ham that he is, he spreads his arms wide and declaims:

"It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!"

He then sinks back on his seat, and says: "Tee El Dee Arr: Yup."

Victor Stone has posed:
Once Vorpal is done with his recitation, Vic's brows inch together as he looks at Gatekeeper. "Man, I guess you haven't noticed, since you've never met me and my friends have been too polite to say anything, but I am /breaking down/ over here. I haven't been functioning right since the jump, I don't have the diagnostics to figure out what's wrong, and I don't have access to my lab, my schematics, my tools, or my spares. Now you're telling me circuitry is so precious in this system that it's a medium of exchange?"

He shakes his head, then very slowly lays his spoon down next to his stew bowl. "I don't know how happy and fulfilled I'm going to be on cinderblocks in some space redneck's front yard, and I'd prefer not to find out. I'd very much like to get out of here before I fall apart -- or somebody realizes I'm just a big malfunctioning piggy bank and goes for the hammer."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Donna's doing her thing-- a Princess speaking imperiously and challenging a lie presented to her. It works well for her, and it works best when she can bring the full weight of her considerable charisma to bear on the task.

Caitlin leans over and gives Victor's human hand a squeeze. "Never going to let that happen," she tells him, firmly. "I will figure out a way to keep you up and running no matter what. Even if I have to... I don't know. Turn you into a spaceship," she says, and ventures a smile to coax some cheer out of him.

Admittedly, the 'S.S. Victor Stone' has a nice ring to it.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Ah, Ulysses. Our visitors are educated, Lucan old friend. Tell me, do you ever have doubts? About Here, about what we have made for ourselves?" Gatekeeper asks, his hands folded on the table before him.

    Lucan shakes his head firmly. "I do not, Gatekeeper. Here we are free of dogma and history. We are at peace, and we are content. We have approached the problem of society rationally, for once in the history of the universe, and have found a way to try out those alternative answers without it becoming a competition."

    He bows his head slightly to Cyborg. "We are not a huge population though. Our resources are not unlimited and we have limited capability for advanced fabrication, and a shortage of rare earth metals. We are no rednecks, though. On the contrary! On my world, on Gombar, we place science foremost of all things. The first thing we teach in schools is the principles of the scientific method, as we believe this equips the young mind best. I offer you my own humble services as an engineer, but if you make your way to my world you will find experts in every field who will be able to help you. No fear of rednecks on Gombar, and no need to become a space ship!" He breaks into a loud guffaw.

    Gatekeeper doesn't listen to Lucan's proud descriptions of his own favored new model society. His head remains bowed in thought, and only when Lucan stops to whet his throat with beer does he interject. "I have doubts. For all that we have done and all that we have achieved... are we idle kings? Or are we prisoners? I knew Endovar well, once upon a time. He held the key to the prison, and it tormented him."

     Gatekeeper stands and walks slowly to his desk, and drags out a heavy wooden box from underneath it. He takes an assortment of oddities out of the box, placing each carefully on the desk, and finally from somewhere near the bottom he pulls out a smaller metal box, thick with dust, which he places on the table. "Deeper than ever did plummet sound," he whispers to himself, like a prayer beneath his breath. He brushes some of the dust off, and opens the lid with a creak.

    "Do not look for Endovar," Gatekeeper says. "Because Endovar is no more. But the rough magics he did abjure might help you on your way. He pulls a small device, about the size and shape of a cellphone and trailing dozens of fine filaments of wire, and hands it reverently to Cyborg. "My memory is poor, but I remember a password: Open Sesame. Hmm! Easy to remember, but impossible to say in the right place, unless you have this. It is an 'Entropic Transponder'. It will always behave as if space-time around it were flat."

    The next item out of the box is a transparent sphere filled with a milky fluid. Floating within it is a smaller orb which glows blue. He twists the sphere this way and that, but whichever way he turns it, the blue orb remains facing the same direction. He hands it to Caitlin. "This was his 'Reality Compass'. It will always point towards the most normal region of local space. Perhaps if you do find the White Hole, it will lead you through it safely."

    The third object is a black cylinder about half a foot long. He looks at it in puzzlement, turning it this way and that. "Oh... oh yes, I think I remember." He points it towards his mug of beer, and presses his finger to a depression in the side. Suddenly the mug of beer appears to be overlaid with the image of a glass of some green drink, as if two versions of reality were visible at once. He releases the button and it's just a mug of beer again. "He called this his 'Flash Unlight'. It shows things the way they aren't. I... I can't recall what he used it for. Thinking about it now it seems of little value beyond amusement, but..." he holds it out to Vorpal. "It does seem right that you should have it."

Donna Troy has posed:
    He looks up from the case and gives Donna an apologetic shrug. "That's it, really. His three treasures. I suppose..." he reaches back into the box and pulls out some folded material. "Hmm... is it?" as he lets it unfold in his hands, it's revealed as a cloak of deepest black material, a little frayed at the edges, with a small silver clasp. "Ah yes, I remember. His cloak. There to pad out the box and protect the treasures, but if you are in need of something warm, you might as well have it. Perhaps it will fit you better than what you have."

    He holds the cloak out to Donna who takes it with a polite smile, wraps it around her shoulders and fixes the clasp. "Thank you, Gatekeeper. You have been very kind to us."