Montgomery Scott is a miracle worker (warp_speed) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-25 00:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gaila, hikaru sulu, james kirk, leonard mccoy, montgomery scott |
"But I’m not Scotty and can’t pull a robot out of my ass."
Who: Kirk, McCoy, Sulu, Scotty, Gaila
What: Camping set up, discussing space missions
When: Today
Where: Out where there's no cellphone reception
Rating: PG-13, language (naturally)
Status: Complete
The trip up had been relatively uneventful - if you call taking a detour around a 15-car pile up uneventful. But there were no midgets, and no bears. Kirk had driven with Gaila and Scotty, and had then led everyone on a seven-mile hike in order to find -just- the right campsite. Shielded from wind, near water and with plenty of resources. Just the way he liked it. He got started on a fire pit - he planned to introduce them to the wonders of a fire pit steak and potatoes.
Gaila wandered around, finding the quiet both relaxing and unnerving. To keep herself busy she attempted to put up the tent. Attempted being the operative word.
That pile up hadn't been a particularly auspicious sign, and Scotty had - indeed - given Kirk a pointed stare as they'd gone around it. But that was then, and this was now, and there was...an instruction manual. Which Scotty had his nose shoved into, because he was in his supervisory capacity. After all, she had grabbed the tent first, and he grabbed the manual. Give him a few more minutes, and he'd be diving in to build them a tent castle. Meanwhile, he was 'helpfully' giving Gaila instructions, more or less so he can just watch her try to kick the tent in its tent arse.
"Pole A goes through...loops one, two, an' three, an' then ye latch that, there, nae, not that thing...that thing, there...that I'm pointing at, aye. That. Nae, not that, that." And at this point, Scotty held up the diagram like SEE? and pointed a finger at THAT which is the THAT he was talking about. At least he was smiling, so maybe Gaila wouldn't throttle him.
Gaila didn’t throttle him. Instead she thwapped him with a pole and went back to work.
McCoy couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was going to happen with that tent instruction thing going on. Horrible, but, well, probably insanely funny too, if he wasn’t lying to himself. He took a minute, watching this set up, and shaking his head, to wonder how this had become his life again, then had a moment in which he pictured a similar set up on Mars, only with setting up those portable house cylinder things, and burst out laughing.
“Sorry.” he said, before anybody could look at him and point out how insane he was. “Just...Well, never mind right now. Anywhere anybody needs me in particular? Cause unless somebody gets a tent pole stabbing, I’m probably completely useless here, but still. “
That smarted. Scotty was rubbing his arm where the pole had made contact, and was - even then - giving Gaila a dirty look. That was even after McCoy was laughing at nothing, certainly not at him and his injury. Wasn't he a doctor? Oh, wait, dead people doctor. That's right. Even if that made NO sense at all, whatsoever. Because they were DEAD already, so it wasn't very helpful other than, maybe, pulling swords and bullets and broken jars of peanut butter out of their bums. Or whatever else gets stuck up there, that could lead to premature death.
Call it delayed reaction, or that he needed to lob an indignant glower over toward McCoy, but Scotty picked that moment to protest being smacked with a tent pole.
"Ye could 'ave put me eye oot with that thing! Here, give me that. I'll dae it meself, lass. Yer goin' tae kill someone at this rate, before Kirk gets a chance." That done, and having read the manual (novel concept!), Scotty hip bumped her aside, took the pole, and began putting the tent together. After all, it wasn't rocket science.
Except the tent appeared to be missing several spikes for holding it to the ground and one of the poles was slightly bent out of alignment, making it difficult to loop through! Gaila just plopped down on a cooler and watched.
Kirk finally got the fire pit started, and was getting dinner ready. He paused long enough to pop a painkiller - his first since the night before - and will it to kick in much faster.
On the other side of the fire pit, Sulu was in the process of setting up the second tent. He'd laid out the instructions and read through them completely, then gone about the process of sorting poles and spikes and things. This was an activity he thought might actually require a beer to thoroughly understand, really. Didn't Beer and Camping go hand in hand?
He'd promised himself not to get too crazy drunk this weekend, though, and soldiered on with the tent pitching, completely sober and mildly annoyed he'd let Kirk talk him into this.
There was beer in the cooler that Gaila was sitting on. In fact, she got up, pulled out some beer and started passing it around! A quick inspection of the cooler had shown that most of the beverages were beer and water, and a glass of wine. She wasn’t sure what the wine was for, maybe cooking? A toast? But she left it alone for now, Kirk obviously had a plan for it.
Kirk obviously had a plan for it but he wasn’t going to reveal it just yet. Dinner was cooking. He took a beer and then got to work on his own shelter, which consisted of an insulated sleeping bag, a hammock under a leanto and some netting to keep out bugs. He pointed at a bag, “ Hammocks and air mattresses are in there. I can help with a leanto if you want a hammock, otherwise there’s an air pump in there too.”
Okay, so color McCoy impressed with that. He didn’t think he was actually gonna do it, because the swaying thing wasn’t exactly cool with him, but still. “Damn.” He commented, watching Jim work. “You’re GOOD at this.” And he didn’t mean to sound so surprised, it was just...
“Last time I was camping it was with the damned boy scouts.” He explained. “And one of those disasters beyond all belief. Please tell me you know how to identify all the poison rash inducing shit out here too?” he asked, then snagged a beer as Gaila passed by. He had brought along some bourbon for later in the weekend, but it wasn’t for drinking so, you know. Better to save that for the moment.
Pfft, spikes and a bent pole? Like Scotty didn't leave home, fully prepared for fix-it emergencies. A few nails (yes, he brought some), some hammering, duct tape, string, pliers, and bending the pole back out by using a nearby tree, all helped to greatly improve matters. Voila! Tent constructed. He stood by it, triumphantly, with a beer in hand. The beer was like his tent making trophy, a sign of absolute build-it victory! Thumbs up to the girlfriend, as well!
Of course, Scotty was also quite impressed with what Kirk was doing, even if he had no idea why anyone would want to do that, because it didn't have a technical manual attached to it, and didn't seem to involve copious amounts of tools, and probably had bugs or worms in there. Not that he was scared of bugs or worms, just that he'd rather not have them crawling off a limb when he was sleeping, and working it's way into his mouth.
A quick drink of beer to wash that thought away - after a bug check - and Scotty felt confident enough to speak without making funny faces and thinking about insects at the same time.
"Aye, I've never been camping, but nice work there, Kirk. And I know absolutely nothing about poison rashes, either. Can we avoid that?" he inquired, with a head tilt and a squint of his eyes. "Last thing any of us need is a poisonous arse rash."
Rolling his eyes, Jim quickly gave them a tour of the wild and wonderful world of shit-to-avoid(tm). Mostly a few plants. He also gathered a few things and showed them what was safe to eat. And then showed them how to use tablets to purify water, should something bad happen and they lose the water they’d brought. He was srsbsns during this whole display.
"There's hope for the lad, yet," Scotty said to no one in particular, after the whole new learning experience. Though he was still on yellow alert.
Seeing him like this, in this mode, McCoy really did believe that Jim could lead them to Mars and back, safe again. He didn’t know if the idea was more terrifying suddenly because it felt real, or if it was absolutely amazing, or kind of a mix of both those things. Either way, he paid careful attention to what was going on, and kept an eye out for the things he’d learned were good for any health emergencies if they lost cell reception or the medical supplies.
And somewhere, along the way, in all of this, he was actually RELAXING about the whole thing. It was like he forgot to be terrified about the fact that anything could happen because nature was a terrifying and unpredictable bitch who demanded either respect or death, and this started looking more...well, fun. Did he know how to have that?
Cell reception? Was lost about 30 miles back.
The lack of cell reception had Sulu worried. He'd made arrangements with his agent to fix the fact that he wouldn't be around to do his shoot this weekend, but he was scared she'd need to speak to him.
Honestly he was more scared that they'd all get eaten alive by bears and no one would know about it, since they couldn't dial 911. But he tried to stop thinking about that.
See, ever the coverer of bases, Scotty had warned Varric, who said he was going to talk to Kirk, and find out a general location. In case they needed to send out a search team and because he thought this would be a disaster. Weekend's not over yet, so the jury was still out, and Scotty was still being cautious. Not even cautiously optimistic.
Sure, Kirk was seemingly in his chaotic element, but with bears, poison rashy things, and what to do if water ran out? He wanted to curl up, at home, and be researching things, rather than become food for the local wildlife and his rotting remains end up fertilizing the foliage. Plus, there was something unnerving about not having some sort of...industrialized noise in the background. No cars driving by. No phone vibrating. No computer at one's fingertips. No him pounding on some scrap while surrounded by tools, or anything.
Was he having a panic attack? No, simply eye darting a lot. And praying an electric tea kettle or something would pop out of nowhere, and somehow plug into the ground and work, because right about now, that'd be a miniscule amount of creature comfort.
"Sae, what're we supposed tae be doin' out here?" Scotty asked...well, it was directed at Kirk, but really it was for everyone. "Besides slowly be driven insane?"
Jim had given Varric the general location and a rough timeline, though he didn’t expect them to be any later than Tuesday. The plan in fact was to pack up and head back Monday morning or Sunday evening, depending on the weather. He walked over to Sulu, nodding in approval at the man’s tent, then headed over to Scotty, “If you want tea or coffee, you can heat it up over the fire.” He held up a metal grating of some sort, “Just rest it on this.” He handed it over, then gestured around, “As for what to do, relax! Food’ll be on soon.”
Over by one of the tents, Gaila was fishing things out of her backpack. She pulled on her new hat, then set aside an assortment of things. Uno, packs of cards, a yahtzee box, and several other games she’d picked up at a store when Scotty hadn’t been looking. Kirk nodded in approval.
And Scotty went rummaging for something stronger than beer, because he had the feeling he might need it. No worries on running out, he’s brought plenty.
Probably a good thing that McCoy didn’t know that about the cell reception. He’d gotten everything cleared with work and everything to be away, but he’d still have panicked if he’d thought that they really couldn’t find him until they sent someone over to collect his mutilated corpse and all.
Not exactly positive thinking there, McCoy. Get ahold of yourself. He was gonna just, he didn’t exactly know.
“So QUIET here.” he commented after a while. “It’s like you can hear yourself thinking and not get interrupted.” Weird.
“Unnerving, is what that is,” was Scotty’s reply, as he was pouring himself some...nevermind, he took a drink straight from the bottle.
Kirk laughed, “Maybe you could find yourself, Bones. I’d include Scotty but I doubt there’s anything left to find. He was lost to machines a long time before any of us ever met.” He checked the food, flipping the baked potatoes and the steaks, then plopped down in his hammock. Something was missing. Someone. But he just couldn’t place it. Maybe it was Isabela but no, that didn’t feel right. Even if he missed her
One thing Sulu thought was a beneficial side effect of being in the woods? Was the fact that he got to study some plants up close and personal, in their natural habitats. He didn't want to go traipsing off on his own looking for rare plants just yet - not with dinner cooking, anyway - so he pulled out a chair and notebook, and looked around the campsite.
He nursed his beer and scribbled a few drawings of plants he wanted to identify later, while listening to the other guys talk in the background. He missed his ferret, he decided randomly. He hoped Pavel was doing alright by himself.
"I thought there'd be more noise out here. Birds chirping, or animals, or plants rustling in the wind... Crickets," he remarked absently.
“Give it time,” Kirk assured him. “Especially as it gets darker, you’ll hear more of the insects.” There wasn’t much of a breeze, but it promised to be a cold night. He hoped everyone brought long underwear.
Sulu didn’t even know what long underwear was.
Did they have long underwear? What was the difference between long and short underwear? Wasn't there simply UNDERWEAR that one wore UNDER things, thus the bloody meaning of the word, right there? Or was he talking about THERMAL underwear, which is what Gaila so kindly rubbed up against his face in the middle of Big Fuck or whatever the name of that establishment was. It was Big Fuck now, for all extensive purposes, because it cost a big fucking amount of money to shop there.
And it was only now that Scotty realized he had just said the very last part of that, basically, out loud.
"...any waaaaays," he said, to finished off his mini-diatribe, "were we goin' tae talk about this moon business as well? Or just be pissing our breeches every ten seconds at giant insect noises, because I'm willing tae bet a fiver that's where we'll be when the sun goes down."
Jim let out a loud laugh, which echoed through the woods and set a flock of birds to flight, “That sounds like perfect dinner conversation, Mr. Scott!” He hopped out of the hammock and limped over to the fire pit. Off went the steaks, and the potatoes. He passed out plates, knives and forks. And these knives, were awesome knives, “Dig in. The main cabin should arrive tomorrow, Varric said he’d get it inside the shop.” He nodded at Sulu and McCoy, “I found an old civvie submarine. We could use it for the main cabin. Its big enough for 3 or 4 people.” He was hoping it could be modified for more. It really depending on how many people were actually going to the moon!
Big Fuck. Right. McCoy was gonna stick with Walmart, for all things considered. Though, yeah, he already had owned the aforementioned underwear if anybody cared. Had to pick it up when he’d moved here. Fucking freezing in California. How that was possible, he had no clue but it had been completely true.
He’d also packed gloves and a few other things he’d probably get made fun of for dragging out, now that he thought about it, but at least he wasn’t going to freeze to death or anything. But right,. dinner conversation and life support talk was on his mind.
“Submarine. That’s a definite possibility. We know what kind of atmosphere we’re looking at and how that’s going to hold up?” he asked, glancing at Scotty before he grabbed a plate and...”If I didn’t see this getting cooked out here myself, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”
"Well, aye, look at it this way," Scotty began to explain, carving into the steak and partitioning it out like it was part of a diagram, "space dunnae have pressure, it's a vacuum. Sae technically just need tae worry about keeping the pressure contained around us, an' not springing a leak sae we get sucked out and die, horribly. The only real problem is punchin' through our atmosphere, really, and because of high temps during reentry. There's that tae work around. The other thing is making space for engines, fuel, life support, filtering, entirely reworking the controls which I'd need Sulu's input for, and the likes. I've been crunching numbers in me head, since we finished the robo. Either way, bottom line, if there's a big hole in the hull, prepare tae get sucked out and it is very cold, and there is nae oxygen. Then ye die horribly, and in the quiet, kind of like how it is, right now."
He smiled at everyone, and this is where Scotty very helpfully stabbed into a potato until its potato guts were shooting out, and then smashed it with the fork like a man with a vengeance. Not helping with the death stuff there, no.
“Ideally, most of the engines and fuel will be outside the hull, or on something we attach to it. We’d want the cabin self-contained. And yeah, it’ll have to be reinforced to hold air in instead of water out.” Kirk cut into his steak, taking a moment to savor it, then continued, “I think that, plus running the avionics so it can be controlled will be the hardest part, but I’m not Scotty and can’t pull a robot out of my ass.”
“Aye, lucky for ye, my arse is full of robots,” Scotty replied without thinking, popping a big bite of steak into his mouth and then nearly choking as he tried to recant or correct that statement.
Gaila eyedarted, and stuffed some taters into her mouth in order to refrain from any comments, though it looked like she was going to explode from wanting to make a comment.
"What we might want to consider is preparing some kind of launch device to get us out of the atmosphere faster," Sulu pondered, while cutting his steak up, "NASA used to use those. I know we don't have the budget to build anything huge like that, but it's worth considering. We'll want to create some kind of thruster system for steering, too. I have some ideas about how I can fly something like this."
"I have a few plans," Scotty was saying, and he was pointing around with a bit of steak on the end of his fork, to emphasize this or that. "I dunnae want tae complicate it up tae much, for Mr. Sulu, and I've taken the liberty of drawin' up some ideas for the thrusters. What I have been tryin' tae work out, is something epic, tae get us there and back again like in those walking movies, even faster. No longer will the trip tae Mordor take for bloody ever. Also? I dunnae keep robots or anything robotic shoved up me arse. I was just tacking on tae Kirk's metaphor statement there, that's all. Get bent if ye think otherwise."
McCoy snickered at the last bit there. “So you’re not some secret social deviant in some way or another? Aww. I’m almost disappointed that you’re not in the secret club with us. “ Then he nodded, having listened in between bites to both of them. “So we’re gonna want...I can try to run some optimal standards and we go from there in terms of making sure we’re not passed out in there. Should be easy enough to get the figures, wiki it and all.”
Then he paused. “So what would we be doing once we got to theoretical Mars? I mean in terms of what we’re looking at and all? Sustainable life shit?”
“The moonshot is basically, go there, do stuff, make a robot drive around. Maybe get some rocks and come back. Going to Mars...” Jim shook his head, “It depends on what our window is like. Right now we’d have to hang around at least three months before we could even leave, with nine months one way. Scotty thinks he can cut that down drastically, but I’d like us to be prepared, worst case, twenty-four months. Maybe longer if we miss the window.”
Sulu frowned, "That's two years, with no plan as to what we're doing when we get there? We're going to need some help. Funding, or a grant, or ... sponsors, or something. Two years away from home is a lot of money we're not making and two years on a space vessel is a lot of money into things like life support, food..."
He wished Spock was here. He'd brought up the moon landing idea, but the camping trip had been too sudden a thing for him to just drag his other new friend along to. He wasn't at all sure Spock would get along with most of the rest of them, either. McCoy, maybe, and Scotty when he wasn't trolling the internet, but Kirk? Kirk, he was really not at all sure about.
"Oh and," He pointed at Scotty with his fork, "Don't over simplify my controls, there. If you build it, I can fly it, Scotty. I'm a pilot, there isn't a thing I've tried to fly yet that took me long to figure out."
"Aye, I cannae simplify tae much due tae the nature of the beastie, but at this rate, we cannae gae overboard tae much, either. Now, traveling tae the moon? That's easy. Simple, even. I could gae tae the moon, blindfolded, there and back again."
Scotty was back to mashing the tatties with a vengeance, using the back of his fork. It wasn't the same without butter and cream. He was scowling down at them even, though part of that was to do with what he was thinking about at the same time.
Nevertheless, he continued, "Mars? That depends on if I can bend some rules, here and there. I can cut it down from two years, significantly, but that's IF we have access tae resources. The sort, like Sulu's pointing out, that we dunnae have money for. I'm talking ion-plasma engines, or maybe something even beyond that. I mean, theoretically speakin’, I could maybe dae more if we managed tae really get our hands on some special fuel source or if I found a way tae modify things. I was tryin' tae think on, a couple of days ago...I could cut the travel time doon. Loads, even. Ye know, they have mock ups for things that can bend space enough tae form a bubble around the craft, and ye can just zoom off and be buffered. Useful, that. I mean, there is anti-matter. But it's hard tae make right now, because it'd take sae much of the stuff, and current capabilities are only like...what, ten nanograms a year or somethin’ ridiculous like that. And if I tried anything again tae find a work-around, yer goin' tae get me blowing up another part of Texas, with a homemade atom smasher, and I'm not supposed tae touch that stuff again."
He stopped, with a big forkful of potato balanced upon the back of the tines, halfway to his mouth, and looked around at everyone.
"Shite, I wasnae supposed tae mention that. Forget that. Ion, plasma, rockets. Travel time cut way dooooon. Yay." He began eating with earnest, so he didn't have to say anything else.
"Thirty Million dollars, plus whatever we get for going above and beyond the X-Price requirements. That's the whole point of going to the moon, to get the money you're talking about," Kirk replied, nodding his head a Sulu. They were good questions, good things to bring up and he was glad he had, so they could a) be addressed and b) discover or suss out things that hadn't been considered before. He turned to Scotty, "Thirty million. Maybe even thirty-five million. Do you think its feasible with that kind of money? Even if we each pocket a million cash and the rest goes towards Mars?" Even a million each would set most of them up for life, if they were smart about it. Or more. Kirk figured they'd have to come up with a fair way to split the moon money between themselves and funding Mars.
Scotty winced a little, almost sympathetically. "Maybe. Tiny budget, that'd be like spitting in a bucket an' trying tae fill it up. It'd depend on time. The longer the time it takes tae get there, the more money we'd need tae spend on supplies, fuel, food. If I cannae cut the time it'd take, significantly, it might take more money than that. Sorry, lads, that's with me bein' gracious, as well."
“No pressure, eh honey?” Gaila leaned over Scotty, hugging him from behind. She’d been quiet the whole time, as the fresh air started to make her feel a little heady. “Why don’t we start getting estimates so we know for sure what the bare minimum we need is? Work out a budget for everything from water to food to the engines.”
"Pressure? Pfft. Not really," Scotty was saying, like he could pull it off. He gave Gaila a pat on the arm and then went shifty eyed just thinking about it all, which luckily she couldn't see. "Budget sounds like a very good idea, though."
“Get on that, Gaila,” Kirk said, grinning at her. The woman stared at him, then narrowed her eyes as if to say ‘challenge accepted.’ Then she straightened, and headed off into the woods. Kirk called after her, “Try not to squat in poison oak!”
He’d had a girlfriend that had done that once. That had been bad.
“Christ.” McCoy muttered at the thought of that. Just seriously. Really thinking about that possibility was completely horrifying, with everything considered. And he realized that if they did go to the moon, then that would mean they’d all be dealing with their...functions...in the same room and...Shit. “Horrible thought there, Jim.”
Jim was all for a separate place for functions. They have one on the space shuttle, after all. He had no idea that Gaila fully intended to be the first woman to have sex on the moon. And Mars. She was already certain at least one pair had done it in space already.
Sulu knew how that was supposed to work in space. He wondered if they'd all need diagrams. Then he wondered where they'd go to even find them. And weren't they all going to need suits of some kind?
"I wonder if there's a black market for astronaut suits."
“Aye, probably. They sell off all sorts of overseas cosmonaut suits and things, as well.”
“I know a couple of guys,” Jim said vaguely. He smirked a bit, wondering which of them he’d talk into fishing for breakfast. He’d brought some things but protein never hurt and it would be interesting to see how resourceful they all were, as he hadn’t brought any fishing rods, just some fishing line and hooks.
Fish catching woodland ‘machine’? Scotty would be right on it. Or he could probably fashion them all poles, because that might be easier than making working water wheels and nets and things.
But would it be as fun, Kirk would ask? And he would ask, first opportunity, “We need some way to catalogue what we need.”
Gaila interrupted him before he could continue, “I’m on that. Now that Faiza’s robot is complete I can focus on programs for this mission. I’ve already modified an open-source astrophysics program, I’m pretty sure I can create something to keep track of what we need, and what we have.”
McCoy would be fine with the whole fishing thing. Fishing was fairly civilized and things couldn’t quite kill you as easily when you were doing that kind of thing. The normal way at least. He had no idea that there were no poles or anything but it was one of those decent ways to relax if you were hanging out with your grandparents or something so he sort of knew what he was doing.
“I’ll have to start thinking in terms of medical shit.” he mused. “Just what it’d be most important that we drag aboard. Much as I wish there was such a thing as a scanner that’d fit in that space...” He shrugged. “Someday, someone’ll come up with one of those.”
“There’s an X-Prize for that,” Kirk said, after thinking for a moment. “First people to invent something like that tricorder from Star Trek. Back in the day, there were all kinds of money prizes and incentive to break flying records. The X-Prize is trying to spur development and creativity the same way.” He smiled at all of them, “If we pull this space shit off I’d say they had the desired effect.”
"I think we could dae it. Though there's several things that can gae wrong," Scotty said with a shrug. "Tricorder from Star Trek? Probably can be done. Why not, we've already come up with cellphones and those're like communicators. Even gone past the flippy phones."
Jim eyedarted, he liked his flippy phone.
Gaila laughed, “Smartphones are like data PADDs aren’t they?”
Scotty nodded like, yep, could very well be! “Or ipads.”
“Yeah!” Gaila nuzzled him!
Yay, nuzzles! She’s getting a hug and then Scotty is like \o/ because he wins at guessing what stuff is like, when comparing it to Star Trek.
“Take it to your sleeping bag, guys.” Kirk pointed at them with his knife, then got up to clean up the dishes. Taking care of it now meant less work later.
Scotty shrugged a little and then started to stand up. Because, well, it’s not like they needed their arms twisted off or anything.
Gaila smacked Scotty in the arm, “Scotty! Later. Horndog.” Pot. Kettle.
“Fine then!” Scotty sat back down.
Jim laughed, and shook his head. Earplugs? Were going to be mandatory.