Category: Test

The Deep End – part 6

Dean sighed. It was a lot more information than he’d had before coming here. Now if he could find a way to get Vlad to talk to him, he might come out with a solid lead where Maren was. It’s sure a hella lot more than I started with.

“Thank you. That helps me more than you can know.”

“I’m glad that I could help you, young man. It makes up for some of the…difficulties…we’ve had today.” Madge smiled.

“I’ll be going now, ma’am. I have a convenience store clerk to talk to.”

Madge nodded. “Take care, young man. Best of luck on your hunt.”

Dean gave Madge a polite bow, then walked out of the store, and into the parking lot of the Kwik-Way.

How can I use this information to the best effect? If I confront Vlad with it, will he break, run, or fight? Based on his ‘friends’ that want their money, running is most likely. So that screws the confrontation idea. Maybe following him home? No, That wouldn’t get anything. What I need is to see the cameras here. That may get me more information before I attempt to link Vlad to anything to do with her disappearance.

Dean shot a bit more about his options and what might be going on. One thought was a kidnapping for ransom, but to his knowledge, there were no ransom demands, or contact for that matter. A second thought occurred. What if there were more than one in the area? If so, then there would be other missing persons reports. That wouldn’t find Maren, but it would set a pattern, and maybe he could break the pattern and find the people.

His rational shoulder-self said he was wasting time he could be using to find Maren, and the intuitve shoulder-self was saying that if there were more than just Maren, there could be more evidence to back up his idea. I really hope that I’m reading this right.

Dean decided to go to the precinct and see if there were other disappearances that might help with this case. I can miss Vlad this time. The guy to talk to is Jeff.

The precinct was just getting ready for shift change when Dean entered. The desk officer saw Dean, and waved him over.

“Who are you here for, sir?” The officer gave him a level stare that, to Dean, was trying to get him to confess to something.

“Good afternoon to you, officer, I was wondering if I could get a look at the public records for disappearances over the last six months?”

The officer rolled his eyes, then glared at Dean. “Oh god, another private in-ves-ti-ga-tor.” He straightened up, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the top of the watch desk as he leaned towards Dean. “So what is it you’re looking for? Cat up a tree? Someone’s missing pooch? Or maybe looking for some poor slob who’s wife wants to screw him over inna divorce? Would that be right, Mr. Dick?”

Dean held up his hands. “Whoa, friend, I am not here to be the start of anything. What’s this all about?”

The desk officer snarled, then shoved an open book at Dean. “Sign in, and state your purpose.”

Dean signed the book, which recorded his handwriting, then annotated his written purpose to the Desk officer’s computer. the officer read the entry, and his eyebrows rose slightly.

“Hmm, you’ve been hired to find this girl? Not a divorce case?”

“Yes, officer. Maren Payamy. She disappeared and her mother turned in a missing person’s report a day ago.”

The officer tapped on his screen, then looked up as a slurred bellow caught everyone’s attention. “Excuse me a second. Looks like there’s something to take care of.”

Dean nodded, then stepped aside as two officers brought in a loudly screaming drunk. The Troykin’s clothes were in tatters as officers kept trying to hold him in front of the desk to check him in. The Troykin would lunge away, wanting to sit down, and the officers would struggle to hold him long enough to record finger and ocular prints. The screams were something Dean couldn’t make out. The Troykin was slurring his own language, which sounded like cats screaming at each other in baritone. The desk officer grabbed a flailing hand and pushed it down on the desk, into a mounted restraint. He pulled up a smartphone and placed each finger on the face for a second, and moved to the next one.

he finished the thumb when the Troykin finally finished flailing, realizing his arm was well and truly held. In all this he’d never lashed out once at the officers, controlling himself carefully despite his apparent drunkeness. He stood quietly as his left eye was copied, then meekly allowed the officers to remove the restraint, and set him down on a metal chair. the officers cuffed him to the chair, and Dean moved back to the desk.

He observed the Troykin for a moment, then turned back to the officer. “What was that about?”

The officer shrugged, then tapped on his screen. “I hope you find her. She’s the third one missing in that area over the last five months.”

“Whaaat? There’s more than one?”

The officer nodded. Two more. I can’t give you the details until you ask for ’em, but I can tell you they’re still missing.”

Dean quickly pounced on the officer’s words. “I formally request information on any other missing persons in the last six months in and around a kilometer from where my person of interest disappeared from.”

He pulled out his own pad and pencil from his back pocket. “The last place I have her seen was DelHomme and Warren.”

“Really? Ah, okay. I just got a report of a found vehicle registered to your Maren Payamy this morning. I’ll print out the location along with the other missing person information you’ve asked for.”

Dean waited as the officer sent the information to a paper printer. He plucked the sheets from under the desk and held them up. “Finished that formal request in writing yet?”

Dean grabbed a sheet of paper, and wrote out in a hurried scribble his request, then signed the bottom and dated it. The officer glanced it over then handed Dean the sheets.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you officer. Good luck with the rest of your day too.”

Dean walked back out to his Jeep, and got in. His cellphone beeped at him as he sat down. The furniture company was waiting to unload the furniture for the receptionist’s desk. He returned the text, saying he was on his way back, and tossed the cellphone in the passenger seat.

The Deep End – Chapter 4

The man, Jeff, as his name tag indicated, looked at Dean like he knew it was a dodge. “Listen, you looking for him because he stiffed you or something? I know him and he wouldn’t do stuff like that. He’s a good worker. Polite and conscientious. He’s never caused any trouble.”

Dean nodded then pulled out his investigator’s license, and showed it to the man. “I’m looking for a missing girl. This guy is described as the last one who might have seen her. Is there a name and address I can get from you so I can talk to him?”

Jeff’s attitude shifted. “A missing kid? How do I know this isn’t come kind of scam?”

Dean stared at the man. He understood that Jeff set a good deal of trust in this other young man, that he liked him, which made him wary of doing anything to cause his associate trouble. In books, it’s always easy for the hero to stumble across things that pushes them towards the climax. In the real world, that line is a lot wider grayer, and much more intensely personal. A person tends to see it as a personal situation rather than as a plot in a story. So you have to address those fears and anxieties, or all that happens is the person shuts up, unwilling to put themself, or others at risk.

“I know this sounds bad, and you’re right, it is. There’s a girl missing, and from her friends. He, whatever his name is, was the last one likely to see her. All I want to do is talk to him about when he saw her last, and if he saw anything that might help in finding her.”

“Vlad. His names, Vladimir, but he tells everyone to call him Vlad.”

Jeff leaned towards Dean, his features tightening.

“You swear to me all you’re going to do is talk to him?”

Dean nodded. “All I want is to find the girl. But, I can’t swear to you that’s all I’ll do. I wont lie about something like that. You like him, that’s obvious. you don’t want to see him in trouble. I get that. I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to find who I’ve been asked to find.”

Dean’s statement seemed to have the man vacillating back and forth between a desire to help and fear of getting Vlad in trouble that he might not be part of.

“He works from six until close tonight. Come talk to him then.”

Dean nodded. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

He left the store, and wandered across the street to window shop while he considered if he should stay or just return to the shop in five hours when Vlad was supposed to report in.

The building had a sign, “Coster’s Outdoor Supply” over the glass double doors. The silver of the brushed metal didn’t quite blend with the red brick of the storefront. The main window was a three meter wide by two meter tall pane of glass, that had a small stage set at its base, which showed off clothing, fishing, and hunting supplies.

I could use a few things for this winter. A couple trap lines would be a bit of extra cash for emergencies.

Dean glanced further in and spotted in the back corner, a security camera pointing back towards him.

If that was active the other night, it might have caught a picture of Maren. Thin chance, but better than no chance.

He walked through the door, the small bell anchored at the top of the doorway tinkling as the door bumped it into motion. A heavyset gentleman in brown pants, white shirt, and a bright neon orange vest came out of a doorway underneath the camera. He waddled gracefully past the tight rows of fishing rods and camping gear, ambling to Dean. He proffered his hand.

“Hello, I’m David, and welcome to Coster’s. Is there anything I can help you find today?”

Dean smiled and nodded. “As a matter of fact, there is. I’d be wondering if I could talk to you and your manager about looking at some security footage from the other night?”

“Ah, what? Security? Why?” His smile had faded to a tenuous twitch of the corners of his lips.

“Take me to your manager and I’ll explain why. Oh, wait a minute.” Dean pulled his wallet out, then opened it. He grabbed the gold colored investigator’s license out and handed it to David.

“I’m working a job I was hired to do. Who I’m trying to find is a regular over at the Kwik-Way. The camera behind you points out that way. It might have recorded something that could help me find this person.”

David nodded, jowls jiggling as he did. He turned, and led Dean back to a small closet-sized office. The door slid into the wall, while the manager, who, if possible, was more rotund, than David, sat at a table that went wall to wall with an all-in-one computer screen on the desk. The manager was using an ancient keyboard and a wireless mouse to work on the computer. He looked over at David, then at Dean.

“Customer with a complaint, David?”

David shook his head no, and handed the investigator’s license to the Manager. He looked at the license, then handed it back to David, who in turn handed it back to Dean.

“So what are you here for, Mr Investigator?” His smile didn’t reach his grey-blue eyes.

“I’d like to look at your security footage on your cameras that cover the street, and the one in the back.” He pointed in the direction of the indoor camera. “They may have recorded something that could help me find someone.”

The manager had a sly smile form on his lips. “I’d be glad to help, but a request like that does tie us up, what with inventory and billing. It’s going to cost you for the inconvenience.”

Dean grimaced, and dug in his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out one hundred twelve dollars, as that was his entire wallet. The two men glanced at the money, then the manager stepped aside as he held out his hand.

“The PC’s all yours for the day. I hope you find something useful.” They wandered off into the store while Dean maneuvered into the broom-closet office and sat down at the makeshift desk. he pulled the door shut, then took a moment to look the computer over.

The manager had apparently pulled up the camera folder for him when he’d been conversing with Dean. the folder was on the computer screen and it was a simple double click to open it. he spent the next two hours going through the four cameras, and managing to find two intriguing pieces of recording.

The first showed Vlad, and someone that Dean guess could be Maren from the time stamp on the video They got out of a car that matched Maren’s missing Volkswagen, and walked into the Kwik-Way. The second was vaguely ominous, as it showed Maren walking back out, then getting in her car, and driving off.

As she left, a car that had been sitting at the curb near the driveway of the convenience store, flipped on its lights as the Volkswagen made a right and drove off screen to the left. As it turned, a dark colored car flipped it’s lights on and pulled away from the curb right behind Maren’s car.

Dean got an uneasy feeling at the coincidence of the action, and decided to check if there were any other cameras across the street that might have caught a better view of the car and it’s license plate, or if he was really lucky, maybe the interior showing faces clear enough to take to the police department and look at mug books online.

Amongst the discarded food wrappers and open notebooks, he uncovered a plugin drive. Dean fitted in the universal slot, hesitated. He opened the door, and started to walk around the counter as David approached him.

“All done?”

Dean nooded. “Can I borrow that mini-drive on the table? I found some pieces that could help me out. Is there anything on it that needs to be saved?”

David chuckled. “Not a thing. I feel kind of bad about Mark doing that, so, at least from my view, you paid for the drive too. I mean they’re only like a couple bucks.”

“Thanks, I’ll copy stuff over and be out of your hair.”

Dean went back to the computer, and plugged the mini-drive in, and soon had his own copies. He pocketed the drive, then walked outside and back across the street. The weather bit through his clothes as the wind picked up, coming from the Northeast. The promise of rain was suddenly a storm bearing down on Halifax.

This is the one time I’d rather not have to work in a blizzard. This job looks like it’s going to be a lot of footwork, and a storm is the last thing I want to contend with.

He turned his collar up and sidled over to the Yarn shop and went inside. A woman with a blue smock holding a pair of scissors was busy chatting with a younger woman, who was dressed in blue jeans, a green sweater, and wearing a front-mounted baby pack. The child, dressed in a pink jacket, was sleeping as the two women chatted.

Dean waited patiently at the front of the store until the two women finished their chat and began walking to the register, which Dean happened to be standing by. The woman in the smock was older than he first thought. Her hair had been colored brunette, but it was the heavy makeup hiding the wrinkles that told her age.

The young mother was chatting about making a comforter in some bright colors for her daughter. The proprietor, or so Dean guessed, smiled widely and looked at the mother and child as she held up the colors that the mother had chosen, proclaiming them to be ideal for the baby. She rang up the purchase, which the woman paid for by passing her wallet over a sensor, which recorded her information and debited her purchase.

The woman turned to face Dean, her smile pleasant as she said, “Welcome stranger. What can I help you find?”

Tia

This story is short and was hard to write because it is so much an attempt by me to deal through words with a currently ongoing situation.  Be forwarned it’s emotional.

 

TIA

The monitor next to the blue sheeted hospital bed beeped quietly. It measured its occupant’s heart rate, blood oxygen levels, and every fifteen minutes blood pressure. The figure in the bed was stocky and round faced. The thin bed sheets outlined an equally stocky body that seemed shriveled and shrunken. A hand, yellowed with jaundice reached out and upward as the man shook his grey-maned head slowly back and forth while drool slid from the left side of his head to pool and soak into the sheets tucked around his formerly thick neck.

Beside the bed, a slightly younger man with a small bit of black in his silver hair reached out slowly to grasp the uplifted hand. His freckled fingers wrapped the pale mottled ones, holding them still as the withered figure in the bed futilely attempted to free his hand.

“Easy dad, I’m here.” The voice seemed to calm the man. He released a soft moaning sigh as his eyes wobbled behind the closed lids. “I’m here. I’m here.” Karl Thorson raised his head, and looked are the artificial cheery bare white room, then back to his father, who was in the final stages of dementia.

He’s being taken by inches in front of me, and I can’t help him at all. He’s not been dad for a year now. Mom’s a wreck, I’m sick of this whole thing. God, please let him die. He’s hurting so much…he’s

“He’s not hurting. He’s dreaming.” the words, spoken right next to his ear had him jumping up and spinning around to face the intruder. The man…woman after another glance, peered back up at him with a faint lopsided smile. Her hair was dyed a grey purple atop her round head and short rotund body encased in green hospital scrubs. Her name, ‘Tia’ was on the white card pinned to her left shirt pocket.

She toddled past Karl to peer at the old man. She clucked her tongue as she arranged the bedding and smoothed it out while the man groaned softly. She laid her hand on his forehead, and he calmed at once. His eyes continued their restless dance behind closed lids but there was a softer movement now.

“You’re the one taking care of him? Thank you. I know it’s rough like this, and I can’t thank you enough for all the kindness you and the other staff have shown him.” She waved her hand between them as if gently pushing away the praise, and chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I’m doing my best. I’m Tia, by the way. Everyone calls me that.” She turned and peered at the old man again. “He’s in the final stage. Two, maybe three days. Then the body will shut down.”

“How can you be so certain? The doctors said it could be weeks, even months before the body turns off. With dementia there’s no way to tell” Karl said firmly, his eyes sharpening with anger. “What’s your degree in?”

“I’ve seen a lot of patients like your dad. There’s a lot of small clues, or ‘tells’, just like in poker. The body always gives itself away in situations like this” Tia went on calmly. Her confident manner slowly dampened Karl’s budding irritation. “I learned that a while ago when I first started this job.”

Karl turned back towards his father, then slowly settled back onto the small rolling stool still next to the bed. Ms Tia didn’t move away from the bed, and continued to rest her hand on the old man’s head. Once Karl was seated, she removed her hand and took a step back. Karl nodded at her and turned back to his dad.

“This damned dementia is killing him, and killing us too. We keep hoping for one last good day to say goodbye, but it doesn’t work that way. He’s just going to…” Tia interrupted him.

“You’re saying good bye all the time. You know what’s happening, and you’re getting to understand and make peace with him and his passing.”

Karl spun on the chair and angrily faced Tia. “You’re telling me this is a fucking goodbye? Just what kind of new age crap are you peddling? Get out! Get out and stay away from my father!” Karl shouted as he stood up, hands balled in angry fists as he stared at the stocky woman. How dare she tell me this is a goodbye. It’s not even close! It’s a living death and it’s robbing any chance of dignity for my dad!

He strode towards the door. I’ll get someone to take her out of here! Fraking bitch!

“He’s not in pain. He can’t remember it. If you look at it from another angle, you’ve got a chance to deal with his passing. A car wreck just takes him. No last words, no time, no chance to say something or clear the air. He’s just gone.”

Karl thrust his hand out at Tia, then swept it towards his father.

“It’s a damn sight better than this! This is a living death! Where’s the dignity in dying this way!?”

“Well,” Tia said calmly. “How is being torn in pieces dignified? How is the body’s natural function of evacuating its bowels dignified. Death is not dignified. It’s just death. The flesh quits working. Dementia allows you to come to grips with loss while they’re still alive. You get to say goodbye and they can hear it.”

Karl ground his teeth so hard the enamel chipped with a series of small pops.

“He would never remember it!” The intensity in his voice seemed to get through to Tia, and she fell silent and watched Karl like a bird watching a hungry viper. Karl stepped closer to Tia, body leaning towards her as he held his anger barely in check. Tia started to take a step back, then shifted her feet, planting herself firmly in place next to Karl’s father.

“You’re afraid. It got him, and you’re afraid it will get you too.”

Karl ducked his head as Tia hit his fear squarely. He raised it to stare angrily at her as she nodded to herself.

“Yeah, I’m afraid. I hate what it’ll do to my family when it happens.” He clenched and unclenched his hands agitatedly. “I wish I could have five minutes with it in a small room…just me, it, and a baseball bat.”

Now she did take a step back, but not from fear. This was an assessing glance, and Karl felt suddenly stripped bare. Tia held her gaze on Karl for what seemed like minutes, then said, “Deal, I’ll see you when you get diagnosed.”

Karl opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Tia seemed to shimmer and fade. A small heat shimmer floated above his father, who moaned then smiled softly at something only he could see. He gazed, open-mouthed at where Tia had been, then pulled out his cellphone, and dialed son Pearson’s number. What the hell just happened? He took a deep shaky breath, then another. Pearson answered on the second ring.

“Hey Pearson, it’s Dad. I’m gonna need my bat back…”

World’s Eye View – 26

I think we’re in trouble. The station wouldn’t ring like some bell from just a panel hit, would it? We might have lost something. Once the decision had been made, he called Roels and Salila over to man the cameras, and cycle through them to look for other possilbe damage. “I’ll help them button up”, He told the two. He took a look at Salila, then jerked his eyes away as his body had started to respond. God I gotta keep it under control. I couldn’t live with myself. He hurried away from the two and down to the airlock to help Ingers, and Kim.

The EVA inspection was thorough, and the information was bad. The main body had been clipped by something, and while there wasn’t a leak yet, the irregular dent would weaken the welds under the constant and extreme temeperature changes as the station passed from sunlight to darkness four times a day. Kim sat everyone down to discuss the options. “As it is currently, we are in no immediate danger. But as Ingers has pointed out, the uneven expansion and contraction will eventually pop the welds open, unless it is fixed immediately.”

Thompson was in his own thoughts as Kim talked. Should I or shouldn’t I tell Ingers and Kim? After all this time how do they no t know about the capsule? Vyhovsky never talked to them, o anyone about trying to get the Xian-Xi freed from the docking rings. Why is that? What made it so important to him that we didn’t know? I can’t figure that out. So, why haven’t I said anything? Because I’m paranoid that’s why. It’s a secret, and for whatever stupid reason, I’ve kept it a secret. He was pulled out of his self-examination by Kim’s next words. “Ingers looked over the Xian-Xi capsules during his EVA, as have I. It appears that comrade Vyhovsky, was trying to sabotage the capsules.” Roels and Salila stared at Kim like he’d grown a second head, Thompson felt himself go pale, and cold. “Sabotage?! What the fuck, Kim?!”, a voice yelled. Thompson looked around and then realized it was his own. What the hell? Sabotage? Where’s Kim going with this?

“Yes, fiend David, I’m sorry, but ‘friend Eugeni’”, Kim almost spat the name, “has partially dismantled the docking rings. In the apparent hope of marooning us permanently. The rings have small boxes inside the exposed areas that appear to be some kind of small, disabling charge, according to Ingers’ inspection.” “Are you certain of that, Kim? Ingers, are you certain?”, Roels sputtered. “Explosive charges? Why? This is a science station, not an orbital missile battery.” Kim nodded. “In truth that is all the station is supposed to be. But who knows what Russia’s ideas for the station were with ‘worst-case’ scenarios? This place would be ideal as a missile defense item. The base’s orbit is four times around the earth in a twenty four hour period. The orbit is more pole to pole, than geosynchronous, or equatorial. One might wonder why, if one was of a paranoic disposition.”

Thompson stared at Kim, slack-jawed. You’re kidding, right? How is a station that barely has enough room for us, and in a particular orbit suddenly become part of a Russian military conspiracy? This is nuts. “H-how do you figure this? Have you gon all X-files on us Kim? That’s just, crazy”, Thompson finished. He looked at the others, and could see Roels and Salila leaning against each other, and talking in quite whispers. Ingers scowled at Roels, which Salila caught and shrank back against Benoit. Roels didn’t seem to see the look, but he hunched down as Salila clutched at his arm. He’s still terrified of Ingers. So am I. I don’t get how he can be so Ingers one minute an d so psycho the next.

He put the thoughts aside and listened as the others talked. Roels argued that there was no way Vyhovsky could have brought charges like that up with him without them being discovered. There seemed to be too many and to precisely placed for one man to get them all into the ring without his efforts being discovered. Salila said nothing and stayed close to Roels, and away from Ingers, who had begun to stare blankly at her, once more. Kim looked over at Ingers, who ducked his head and turned away. “So, what if it was put in place by the Chinese when they made this part of the station? I wouldn’t put it past them, or any country, to build in a few ‘safeguards’ in case some kind of conflict arises. Look at Russia with the Missile platforms they tried to disguise as nuclear communications. You don’t need a big bosster if the warhead’s in orbit, just a push at the right time.”

Kim glared at Thompson for a moment, then said with a sigh, “Yes, it could easily be that the devices were in place as part of the Chinese designed section.” He strightened up and projected his voice. “What it all means is we work together, and see if there’s a way to defuse the devices safely.” Thompson took a deep breath. Maybe it’s way past time to let the cat out of the bag, and fix this. “I think that was what Vyhovsky was trying to do. He’d uncovered the devices. Maybe that was why he’d kept the radio signal a secret.” Everyone turned to Thompson, listening. “How does one link to the other, friend David? Do you have a theory?”, Kim demanded. “Yeah I do”, Thompson replied. “Think about it. What if we did know about people surviving down there. The first thing we’d be doing is thinking about going home. We were in a debris orbit. IF we didn’t move the station, we’d have been perforated most likely. Look outside. It happened. We have no idea how high up we are except a computer’s best guess, since there’s no telemetry. We’re gonna burn up when the station finally drops to the edge of the atmosphere. I think he was trying to free the capsules by taking the rings apart. The bombs were a complication he hadn’t figured out.”

A way to get a handle on characters

Every character has a story that they are the star of.  It doesn’t matter if they’re just window dressing or faceless thugs, they all have a story if you think about it.  I don’t always recommend going so far as to chart out each and every one, but I’m sure there are some authors that do.  As a way of getting a handle on characters, I’m offering up a quick four question psychology test that can help give you a little depth and insight into what makes a character tick.

It’s very simple to do, just four questions.  For each question put yourself in the character and answer how they would, or think that they would.  What each question means will be at the end.

Question 1 – What is your favorite color?  Think of three words or short phrases on how this color makes you feel.  (Write them down on a card or piece of paper)

Question 2 – What is your favorite animal?  Think of three words or phrases on how this animal makes you feel?  (Write them down on a card or piece of paper)

Question 3 – You are in a white room with no doors, windows, or way to exit.  Think of three words or phrases on how this situation makes you feel. (Write them down on a card or piece of paper)

Question 4 – You are standing on an open plain and can see as far as you want in any direction.  Think of three words or phrases on how this makes you feel.  (Write them down on a card or piece of paper.

Now before I reveal what each answer means, I’ll give you my example of a character.  This is Charlie ‘Skid’ Moore from the short story ‘Skid Style’.

Question 1 – Blue – open, breezy, mellow

Question 2 – Cheetah – fast, focused, no one can outrun me!

Question 3 – white room – lonely, I hate this place!, Let me go!

Question 4 – Open plain – I can run!, so much to explore, gotta pace myself

Now you can see Charlie’s answers to each.  Now let’s look at what each question is supposed to represent

Question 1 – This is supposedly how others view you.  So in Charlie’s case people seem to see him as a laid-back easy going guy.

Question 2 – This is supposedly how you see yourself.  Charlie is proud of his speed, and is focused on his goal.

Question 3 – This supposedly is about what your attitude is towards death.  Hmm, well…, Charlie hates it.  ’nuff said.

Question 4 – This is supposedly about what your attitude towards life is. Another interesting response here.  Charlie loves to run, and sees life as a constant exploration, but he also understands the need to maintain a steady pace through life.

 

That’s the test in a nutshell, and with it we can see Skid’s motivation, a little about his personality, and how he approaches life, and reacts to death.  How does your character(s) answer these questions?  They may surprise you.

World’s Eye View – 23

The screaming started and he was out the hatch, and caroming off the wall towards it. A few quick turns and he arrived at Roels cube. The screaming had faded to wracking sobs as he grabbed the handhold at the hatchway, prepared to launch himself at Ingers. He pulled up short as he saw Roels, clutching a shivering, naked, woman against him. As Salila clutched at his shoulders, Roels looked up, and saw him. “Roels? Is she…”, he swallowed drily as his eyes followed Salila’s supple curves. He shook his head. Get it out of your head, asshole. She’s been raped! “Is she all right?”, he finished lamely. “Better than I”, Roels said. I think I have broken ribs. It hurts to take a breath.”

“How are we gonna keep maintenance up? I don’t trust Kim, and Ingers is great at it, but he’s not Ingers, he’s something seriously messed up.” Thompson watched Roels haunted look harden with anger as he discussed maintenance. “After this, travesty, should we even care about maintenance? I think maybe we should just let things fall apart. This is hell, and there is no way out.” Thompson looked at Roels. Everyone’s talking about how there’s no way off the station, but Vyhovsky figured out the docking ring. I gotta take a chance. It ought to pull us together. Oh slag that, David you idiot. The wound’s too deep. Still, it might be the only way off the hamster cage. I gotta ask though, why did Vyhovsky keep it from us? It doesn’t make sense. That would have brought us all together on a common goal. We’d be out of here and home.

“Roels, there is a way off”, he said quietly. Roels blinked, and stared at him. “A way off. Why do you tell me now?”, Roels asked, suspicion thick in his voice. “Vyhovsky figured it out. He told me about it just before he died”, Thompson said quietly. “The docking ring has the Xian-Xi locked in place, and a software virus locked the ring closed. Vyhovsky was taking the ring apart a little at a time. Once the ring’s disassembled, the craft will float free, and it can be powered up to go home.”

Roels looked at Salila, and closed his eyes, holding her close against him. She struggled a moment, then sobbed harder as she clutched at Roels shoulders. Roels arms went protectively around her as he gazed up at Thompson. “You’re not just saying this to trick us? Disassembling the docking ring will work? What about traps?” Thompson grimaced. “I’m guessing there aren’t any. Even the most paranoid engineer has to draw the line between function, and blowing you sky-high.” Roels gave a bitter chuckle, and wrapped his arms tighter around Salila. Salila sobbing slowed as she was held, and her head came up. “I would rather they were trapped. I could die then, and escape my shame.” The bitterness and hatred poured out in the words, making Thompson shiver. “Get healthy Roels, I have to go, vote. Kim’s wanting to set priorities.”

“Set priorities? Help me get there, and we’ll all vote. I’ve had enough of this travesty. We need to work on the Xian-Xi and the docking collars. I have had enough of this place.” Thompson nodded. “We all have.”

**

Thompson floated in the galley at the far side, as Kim, and Ingers conducted the meeting. Kim frowned at Roels making it to the meeting. Thompson thought he could see Kim trying to figure out the best way to control the meeting. Ingers, staring vacant-eyed at Salila, moved to sit beside her. Roels sat close, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. Ingers reached a hand in her direction, then lowered it back to his side.

“Now, let me bring this first full complement meeting to order. We have a number of things to discuss, and prioritize. First, there is the regular maintenance, then temperature control, and finally, consumables.” Thompson mentally muted out Kim’s voice as he studied Ingers. The big Swede seemed lost in himself. Thompson couldn’t decide if this was due to being close to Salila, or guilt from previous actions. Is the real Ingers still in there? He said it was like things were flipping on and off, and he didn’t have control. Did Kim screw with his mind somehow while he took care of him? If he did , what and how did he do it? Can it be fixed? Who’s gonna fix it? Kim never would. I don’t know how, and Roels, I don’t know about Roels. Whatever this situation is, our job is to get home now that we’re on the same page.

Thompson raised his hand. Kim stopped his talk to stare directly at him. “What is it David?”, he said, sounding like a schoolteacher lecturing a troublesome student. “There’s another priority. Getting home. We need to get home and off this station. Put that in the list.” When Kim hesitated, Thompson raised his voice. “Put it on, and let’s vote on our priorities.” Ingers eyes flicked to Thompson as he spoke, and flexed his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Oh shit. Did I push my luck too much? He watched Ingers float over to the left of Kim, giving him a clear line of travel to Thompson. “I do agree that we should arrange our priorities, friend David”, Kim said quietly, his own eyes on Ingers movements. Thompson noted that Kim seemed to pale, as if he too, feared Ingers unpredictable reactions. What if Kim didn’t do anything? What if the whole thing is Ingers? Thompson tried to turn the thought over, but the vote was called for. Kim set two priority lists. Maintenance came up on ‘what needed to be done immediately’, and going home went to the top of the ‘overall priority’ list.

Roels watched Thompson with increasing agitation as Kim droned on, arguing ranks in the priorities. Finally, when Kim finished, he nodded with his head for Thompson to follow him. Ingers was staring hard at Salila, who sandwiched herself between the two men. They reached Roels’ cube, where all three spread out in the room, staring at the one entry hatch.