[hider=Title of Recording: Hopper Day] One of my favorite days is Hopper Day. Well, I should really say two of my favorite days since Hopper Day occurs twice a year. Hopper Day is the last day before most of the Trader Ships go off world and head back to where they came from. In order to make sure they have enough room for all the raw materials they’ve picked up from Syrae, they have a last ditch sales day to get rid of any unwanted cargo. You can find just about anything for half the price of what you’d pay any other day. Plus you can find some super rare items, a music box from Chilong, pears from Venusala, even pet Makye…[/hider] The summer silk felt smooth and crisp under Ryen’s fingers. [b]”Do you have this is blue?”[/b] she asked the merchant who was eying her greedily. [b]”Blue more expensive,”[/b] the Beetlebung said, it’s snake-like mouth garbling the words of Common Tongue, [b]”Five and seven credits more.”[/b] [b]”Thirty-three credits more, maybe.”[/b] Ryen replied, replacing the thick mitten over her hand. [b]”Five and seven.”[/b] Ryen shrugged. [b]” Maybe it’s worth fifty-seven credits more most days but today is Hopper Day. Thirty-three.”[/b] She hated dealing with Beetlebung. In general their demeanor was as hard as the fire red scales that covered their bodies. [b]”Silk is light and easy to carry back.”[/b] the Beetlebung hissed. [b]”Then that looks like what you’ll be doing with it.”[/b] With that she walked off and started to peruse the artifacts of another stall nearby. If her memory served, and it always did, that Beetlebung would lower their price by the end of the day. It was still early yet. A news flash scrawled across the holo-screen in the corner of Ryen’s eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to face it. She thought she saw… but no, it couldn’t be. She patiently waited until the words flashed again. [center]{Dr. Arleth found murdered in Park Square. Killers still at large.}[/center] Ryen’s hands flew to her mouth as a silent scream escaped from her lips. Tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks as the words swam and blurred. Her father had been killed? Why had no one told her. Anger, terror, and grief overwhelmed her as she checked the communicator in her pocket. [i]”0 messages”[/i] flashed on the digital screen. Why hadn’t anyone tried to reach her? Unbidden, a conversation from over three years played in her head. Her father’s voice so loud and clear, he could have been standing in front of her. [b][i]If something were to happen to me… No listen… If something were, now I’m not saying it will but if it does you need to access the safe in my workshop. You remember the code right…? No! Don’t say it out loud... I need you take the journal and burn it in a geothermal vent and you need to get off planet right away… That day! Do you understand? That day! They might go after you also.”[/b][/i] --- The grief was still raw as Ryen tore through her closet, trying to decide what she should pack and what she should leave. She’d been over to her father’s workshop. It looked like a Tiberian windstorm had ransacked the place. Green gobs of gloop, acidic from the smell they gave off, stuck to papers and pooled on cabinets and floorboards. The safe had char marks on it, like someone had tried to use explosives but the massive door had held. As she’d been instructed as a child, Ryen aligned her right palm on the handle and entered the 25 digit pin. On the fifth snap she pulled on the handle and the door swung open easily. Inside, amongst several stacks of papers were two volumes, her father’s research notebook and a small journal. Reaching her arm inside, she grabbed both before securing the safe again out of habit. The whole time she’d been in her father’s workshop she’d been jumpy. Every creek of the floorboards or whisper of the thermal vents, responsible for piping in warm air from deep below Syrae’s crust, made her breath catch. She’d almost bolted out of the workshop. And now she was here, scrambling around trying to figure out what was worth packing and what would have to stay behind. She had no idea where she’d be going or what climate she’d be living in next. Hot or Cold? Wet or Dry? Would there be free flowing water or trees? Snow shoes or sandals? Both? Neither? Normally if a citizen wanted to get off Syrae they’d take an Express to a different planet. But it could take days for her to secure a ticket that way. Her only hope was to hitch a ride with a Trader. It should have been easy enough since it was Hopper Day or so she hoped. The doorbell of her apartment rung. A screen by the door switched on, it’s job to display the faces of the visitors to the occupants inside. Ryen poked her head outside her bedroom door to take a look. The screen had been disconnected. [b][center]*[/b][/center] [b]”Ursea”[/b] Ryen called out to her apartment’s AI. At first the computer program didn’t like responding to the name of the girl’s dead catermite but eventually it learned to respond after Ryen promised to come up with a more humiliating one. Like so many things in her apartment the AI had been upgraded by her father, and like so many of his creations, it tended to have a mind of its own. Ryen found its slightly argumentative demeanor endearing so she’d decided not to tweak the settings. [b]”Yes mistress Arleth?”[/b] it pronounced in a mechanical male voice that sounded a bit sardonic. [b]”Please scan our visitors, the visual door display isn’t working.”[/b] Ryen mentally checked over her clothes again and began packing toiletries. It was amazing how little one really needed when push came to shove. Ursea’s announcement cut through the door bell ringing again. [b]”Their identity is unknown.”[/b] Ryen pressed the latch of the large metallic purple handbag, it began vacuum sealing its contents, allowing it to shrink to a more manageable size. [b]”Well did you use the door camera to match Alexandrion’s facial recognition database?”[/b] [b]”Yes. Their identity is unknown.”[/b] [b]”Unknown”[/b] Ryen repeated, feeling a chill run down her spine. [b]”How can that be?”[/b] Everyone foreign who entered the city had to go through a security terminal where all their basic vitals were recorded and anyone who was a citizen had their information housed in the public data base almost from birth. [b]”There are several plausible explanations for…”[/b] but Ursea’s explanation was drowned out by something pounding on the thick metal door followed by a high pitch whine. Ryen wasn’t sure what they were doing but she was starting to have serious concerns. Like all the security doors in her expensive high rise apartment building, it was made of a strong, nearly impermeable Titantium alloy. These weren’t your average house breakers. She wished she could go over what she packed again, but there wasn’t time. Now that the hand bag was deflated, it weighed just under ten kilos. Using detachable straps, Ryen created a cross over her chest and attached the bag to her back. After making sure it was secure, she walked over to the table by the door and grabbed the baby blue helmet that lived there. [b]”Ursea,”[/b] she said, loosening the bun at the back of her neck so the helmet would fit over her head. [b]”Please follow protocol seven-six-alpha-four-B.”[/b] [b]”I take it then that this is good-bye.”[/b] The voice almost sounded pain. Guilt lanced through Ryen’s heart. Somehow the argument that the program wasn’t a living, breathing entity didn’t make the kill order any easier. But Ursea’s predictive behavior meant it knew her almost better than she knew herself. If someone or something was coming after her, she couldn’t afford for them to get their hands on that kind of information. [b]”I won’t forget you.”[/b] Ryen pressed the release button for the balcony door. [b]”You rarely do.”[/b] It announced reassuring Ryen about her decision. No one besides her father knew for certain about the memory chip planted in her brain, but even the AI had an inkling that her brain function was not normal. [b]”Deletion at 45 percent”[/b] Ryen pressed her hand against the finger print reader by the door. A small suction sound met her ears as the two glass panels slid apart. Cool air rushed against her face as Ryen pulled her jacket sleeves down more to cover her wrists. The city of Alexadrion was housed under a metal and glass dome but even the geothermal vents couldn’t keep out all the chill from planet’s -30 degree surface. Outside her hover bike was sitting next to a few pots of Leaken Bush, a cold loving herbaceous plant that had fist-sized neon orange flowers. With a turn of a key, the old metal machine whooshed to life, its two bottom propellers creating clouds of dust beneath them. Without hesitation, Ryen alighted onto the bike and pushed the visor of the helmet down over her exposed eyes. Using her legs and the bikes propeller system, she lifted the beast over the metal balcony railing. Even from here the woman could still make out the sounds of the onslaught on her front door. It been a year and a half since she’d rode. After a near miss, she’d promised her father she’d stop riding although she hadn’t bothered to throw the bike out. The stars knew it was too old to sell for anything. [b]”Please work,”[/b] she whispered, her words small puffs of mist. Could she still drive it? Would it handle the extra weight of her pack? It had always been a bit finicky even at the best of times. She certainly hoped so. Death by hover bike accident wasn’t one of the ways she preferred to go. Before she could think she pushed forward. Twenty-seven floors of balconies spiraled by as Ryen barrel rolled with her bike. It was a good thing she lived towards the top of the building. The bike’s motor had stalled a few seconds into the flight and had to be restarted. Even after righting herself and making sure her bag was still firmly attached to her person, Ryen’s stomach was in her mouth and red streaked across her eyes where her hair had fallen out of place. Shakily she turned the monster towards the cities Dock district. Buildings of metal and glass glittered in the late morning sunlight. Fortunately, since it was Hopper Day there wasn’t too much traffic on the cities inner skyways. ---- Ryen sighed feeling deflated. She should have expected this to happen. Less than an hour had passed since her arrival and she was mentally exhausted and physically tired from hefting around her bag and fiddling with her temperamental bike. Combing through Shipyard A and B had turned out to be a complete waste of time. Most of the ships had all the crew they needed. Unlike some destination planets, most of the workers that got off at Syrae got right back on again. No one needed a mechanic with little experience. Oh sure, there were a few offers but unless she wanted to be shut up with a hodge-podge of mixed species crews that seemed disreputable at best or spend most of the flight on her backside with her ankles in the air, she didn’t have many options. Pink rose to her cheeks as she thought of one of the captain’s illicit suggestions. It was a shame garbage like that would be permanently stuck in her brain until the day she died. Shipyard C seemed to be about as promising at the other two. This one was dedicated to smaller ships who carried crews of five or so. Sometimes, if there was extra room, they were known to take a civi or two for a price. She wasn’t the only one looking for a ride off world either. Quite a bit of Alexandrion’s citizens had interest in getting off world, either to visit their families or to relocate to another planet where prospects might be better. There were really three kinds of citizens in Syrae, those that worked in the mines, those that worked in science and technology, and those that worked for the miners or the scientists. Since Syrae was known to be a Federation safe haven and to have a stable government, well trained refugees were common. What that meant, however, was that current citizens received little upward mobility. Ryen had been fortunate to have her father, one of the planet’s most respected scientific minds, as a mentor. Most of her grade school friends hadn’t been so lucky. It wasn’t that the city didn’t have good schools, it was simply that they couldn’t keep up with the bright, technological minds the Federation churned out. Someone shoved into her shoulder hard causing Ryen’s right knee to slam into the bike. [b]”Hey!”[/b] she growled waving her fist, [b]”Watch were you’re going.”[/b] Her irritation only increased when she saw it was a Snarkif, a large desert species with twelve eye stalks. One would think with all those it could have watched where it was going but not one of those stalks swiveled back to see if she was okay. Then Ryen heard yelling in the direction it had rampaged off to. [i]”Street fight?”[/i] Ryen wondered. They tended to be rare in the part of the city she frequented. Curious, she sped off in the direction. As she sped past the still running Snarkif, she made an offensive gesture that would have earned her a lecture from her always-diplomatic father. She put on the breaks just in time to avoid slamming into a wall of people. Even with her helmet on, the roar of the crowd was deafening. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [b]”Pick me! Pick me!”[/b] . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . [b]”I need on!”[/b] . . . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .[b] I’m human… enough…”[/b] . . . . . .[b]”Please, we have a baby!”[/b] Ryen tried to force her way closer to see what was going on but it was difficult. For a woman she wasn’t abnormally short but between the eye stalks, lengthened pinas (or outer ears), hair, fur, elongated snouts, and tusks it was impossible to see. [b]”What’s going on?”[/b] she shouted to the crowd around her but no one paid her any attention. [b]”… any of you want a shot at joining my crew, you better shut up!”[/b] The voice sounded male and at least, somewhat human. Was it too much to hope for? The crowd around her grumbled but at least started to calm down. That was until he made his second announcement. [b] …I’m looking for the best of the best for my crew, and I’m not going to settle for anything less![/b] Then all chaos broke out again. .. . . . .. . . . .. .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . [b]”I navigate”[/b] .. . . .. . . .. . . . . [b]”I’m a cook!”[/b] . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. [b] “No! I’m a better cook.”[/b] .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . [b]”I’m a doctor!”[/b] A fight broke out to her right, two aliens physically arguing over who was better at their job. Ryen hopped on her toes and waved her hands in the air. [b]”I’m a mechanic!”[/b] she yelled, [b]”I’m a mechanic”[/b] It was useless. She doubted if she could be seen let alone heard through all the noise. She had a crazy idea and only hoped it worked. Ryen set the break on her bike, now completely surrounded by the crowd. At first she tried standing on the foot pegs but she still couldn’t see over the top of the crowd. Carefully she crawled onto the small seat and started to stand. Once she lost her balance and had to grab onto her neighbor. Her hand came away blue and sticky. The Thyroback was clearly annoyed. From her new vantage point she could see the person who was leading the crowd. He looked young and bulky but at least he was human. Ryen began waving her hands in the air tentatively before going all out. [b]”I’m a mechanic!”[/b] she yelled out again, [b]”I’m a mechanic!”[/b] She felt more like a maniac, trying to get his attention while barley managing to stand on the seat of her bike. The ship next to him looked shiny and new. Would he even need a mechanic?