/ Chapter 4 / 

If the Grand Supervisor had been able to frown, it would have done so when it saw the wing ship put a long scratch into the roof of the docking bay as it teetered out. However, the Grand Supervisor just added the damaged roof to its list of maintenance items and continued to observe as the ship moved beyond sensor range.

The two inspectors had left behind a highly inadequate report, and three of the platform's workers had been appropriated for unknown reasons. Worker quarter 12B was to be sealed up along with its air circulation – a forensics team would supposedly arrive later and absolutely nothing could be disturbed. The Grand Supervisor could only hope things would be clarified then.

A few hours later a new ship signature appeared on the platform's sensors. Was it the forensics team already? No, the signature was a logged counterfeit, widely known to be used by an unlawful organisation. The mystery ship however seemed to have no business with the platform and soon left, a convenience to the Grand Supervisor who didn't much appreciate disruptions and disorder.

But when the Grand Supervisor got the factory back up and running again it noticed that worker FW722 was missing and could not be located by any of the Guardian Units. There was an 89% chance that she was trapped in the sealed quarters and now suffocated, a 7% chance that she was hiding, a 2% chance that she had somehow stowed onto the wing ship, and a 1% chance that she had been deposited into space as the ship de-docked.

–o–

Teu had vectored the Wing Courier away from the platform at full speed and in no particular direction. She disposed of Naxxel's body immediately after figuring out how to operate the ship's airlock. She also got out of Beutraze's suit and heels as it didn't feel right to strut around with that stuff in the ship and catching side eyes from the other girls. The oil in her hair she had managed to wash out, but it still smelled a little.

Now she sat in the cockpit area observing the system info plot on one of the flickering monochrome CRT displays. The barren star system she was now in had apparently been stuck with the name "Temporary Name 51G" for 399 years.

The central red dwarf star had no planets and only kept two asteroid belts around. The display listed a few ongoing mining operations with a registered crew of all male worker constructs and the usual Guardians and Overlords.  

In addition there was of course Factory Platform 8790, which just drifted alone in deep space, slowly going around the small star at 16.2 S U. She guessed an S U was about 15% of an A U, but unfortunately she had no real point of reference. Meters were the same in this universe at least. It even had cubits, but here they were 0.48 meters for the quadodecal cubit and 0.5 meters for the metric cubic.

Incidentally, the Type U panties the workers made were calibrated for sub 1/8th quadodecal frontal coverage. While the cutter team used a standard template pattern, QC still insisted on using that flexible quadodecal inspection ruler, and sometimes also wielded it as a whip.

Teu hit a button and watched a plot of the local star sector emerge in a phosphorous glow on the display. 

Temporary Name 51G was located in the outer periphery of imperial space. There were some 1500 stars within the ship's current jump reach of 24 light years. Out of these only 60 had planetary settlements – usually of the smaller variety with a population ranging from thousands up to millions. This didn't mean that the rest of the systems were uninhabited though, it was just that worker constructs and their robotic minders didn't count as population.

It was useless to stay in Temporary Name 51G so she would need to locate a well populated system with some prospects. The primitive computer was unfortunately only able display brief text summaries and simple vector plots, so Teu didn't have much to go on when selecting a target system, and with limited fuel she didn't want to take shots in the dark. 

She took a break after cursoring over a few systems and instead went to check on the three other girls. When she entered Beatraze's private quarters she saw them holding 601's shirt up, tying a black bra on – upside down, then abandoning the endeavour in confusion. They had gone through all of Beutraze's stuff and the room was a mess. Unless it already was before, that is.

She didn't clarify the matter about the bra because she noticed something more urgent laying splayed open on the floor – it looked like an edge worn travel catalog or guide.

"System Catalog, Sector 56:90D – Special Edition – Explore the mysteries of the periphery! Buy your own island paradise! Find comfortable retirement on Bothlar!"

Besides the text, the cover featured a colour illustration of a refined victorian lady. She was comfortably seated and stroking an alien furry thing in her lap. Surrounding her was a group of muscular male butlers in a state of undress. The catalog was 36 years out of date.

Already back in the pilot seat and flipping through the catalog Teu soon found a friendly looking system some 7 light years away. The only inhabitable world in the system had a population of half a million living on an arid looking continent. The small planet rather reminded Teu of an all Australia Earth. Like many planets out here it was in the process of being terraformed. Due to significant heavy metal deposits its gravity approached "standard", though this was extraneous to Teu since the wing ship apparently couldn't easily land on planets, and she was not about to leave it unguarded and go down on a shuttle. No, the reason why the world interested her was because it had a fully featured starport in orbit – not a dinky little backwater depot but an actual small moon – one that she could dock with and comfortably resupply at. Well, so she guessed.

So, she carefully adhered to the sequence of steps detailed in the Hyperjump section of the manual and set up the jump. After hitting a big red button... nothing happened. Following 15 minutes of double checking every step she eventually noticed some fine print – this model of the Wing Courier unfortunately had a slower onboard computer and would need 82 minutes to calculate the jump, set up all parametric relays, and spin up the drive coils. During this time the ship had to follow a predictable trajectory, which meant that if some boogie came buzzing the wing ship was either a sitting duck or had to abort the jump and start over again. Aborting was however a no-go during the last 6 minutes of the jump sequence as then the fuel for the jump was already being pumped and spent on energisation, and it had to go somewhere lest the ship explode. The only course of action if the ship was threatened during this window would be to trigger a premature misjump.

If the crew was lucky a misjump would just move the ship to a random point in nearby space. From there the crew could find a point of reference and attempt a new jump, provided the ship had any fuel left.

The Mark 6 Wing Courier used Condensed Hydrogen Fuel which was neither uncommon nor expensive. The Wing Courier had enough fuel for two full length 12 light year jumps or a series of shorter ones. Fuel usage during in-system travel was comparably small.

As Teu sat waiting for the jump a little blip appeared on one of the long range sensor displays, spooking her, but then it disappeared again. The minutes ticked by with nothing happening, so she decided to go stretch her legs a bit.

The other girls were busying themselves exploring the lateral confines of the wing ship, so she joined them. The ship was nearly 15 meters wide but some of it was of course taken up by bulkheads and normally inaccessible compartments, such as fuel tanks. Still, there was enough space for them to stand upright and walk about.

While the left and right side of this particular Wing Courier had been configured to hold luxury cabins, the space could apparently also be used for extra armament, such as dual torpedo + gun modules. Other options included better sensors, hydrogen fuel skimmers, additional cargo space, long range fuel tanks and smaller passenger cabins. The two configurable spaces were about 4.5 by 4.5 meters but a bit of the outer space was always reserved for fuel tanks. 

This left a 5.5 by 4.5 meter slightly crowded space in the middle. The main engine at the back intruded towards the central pilot cockpit located directly under the top turret and its mechanics. The turret actually doubled as a sort of periscope – the ship had no windows, just a number of optical projection tubes routed to the pilot for "visi-nav" purposes.

This central space also hosted life support systems and a compact bathroom sitting against the engine behind the pilot. To the right of the engine at the back was a tiny airlock leading to the external docking door. The inner door of the airlock was rarely used, so due to cost and space saving measures, the inner door was just an airtight fabric. The left side didn't have a door but a garbage chute leading to the outside. This was a hand cranked cylinder with an opening on one side.

These two ports flanked the engine and were positioned inside the ship's two rearward vertical fins.

The pilot was facing the a diverse arrangement of consoles tapping into the enclosed forward sensors and computing systems. To the sides of these were two mixed purpose utility closets.

Contrasting Beutraze's cabin, Naxxel's cabin seemed barely used. He had perhaps been an incredibly dry man. Upon searching his cabin they found a locked drawer, which they promptly pried open with a tool. Inside was a little logbook with just two entries, both critiquing "that dumb bitch". There was also a pictorial magazine which possibly showed alien sex, but it was hard to tell as the creatures weren't even remotely humanoid.

Beutraze's cabin was apparently a bit more interesting to rummage through. Despite Teurana Zlayne and FW722 both being somewhat asexual in nature, Teu still felt a bit odd seeing the other girls bending over hither and thither with the thin white panties sitting far too low on their butts. Wherever her mind was heading it was suddenly derailed by a series of exclamations.

–– "What are these?"

–– "They're so shiny!"

–– "And super heavy!"

The girls had found a whole bunch of peculiar shiny metal discs. Only Teu was able to tell what they were – they  very much looked like old Chinese coins with the square holes in their middles. Thinking about it, credit cards and digital payment systems might not be viable in a universe where interstellar travel away from local banking databases was a thing. Also, computers here seemed a bit more primitive. Which raised the question of how robotics was achieved. Maybe... the Guardians were not really- Teu moved away from the thought.

Anyways, having coins were a good thing – with a credit card she'd likely need an ID and pin code. Aside from the coins they also found a set of small silvery bars. Roughly counting the embossed numbers all together they had a total of some 10000 monetary units.

The inventory search continued. They apparently had not found a bottom matching the black bra. The effort instead just yielded more of the rather large beige underpants. After seeing Naxxel's body being "spaced" earlier, the girls came up with the idea of also spacing these "abominations". Teu supposed they had a point -- they might need to eventually dump a bunch of stuff. The ship's manual hinted at a more convenient way though -- there was actually a dedicated garbage chute. A warning label however discouraged its use due to regulatory codes in fine print.

After definitely having made even more of a mess they set to cleaning up, changing bed sheets and settling in.

They would need to sleep at some point after the jump. While time supposedly froze on the ship during hyperjumps, the exit point usually put the ship quite far out in the target system. The manual claimed that it would generally take days to approach inner planets.

As for sustenance, they had completely forgotten to bring it. On the station they kept the sustenance bars in a meal area and didn't run around carrying them, or squirreling them away in their quarters. Thinking about it, Teu realised that she hadn't eaten one yet. FW722 had in the past of course, but now Teu understood how abnormal the food was. The sustenance bars on Factory Platform 8790 were perhaps specifically tailored for worker constructs. One didn't need to eat much of them to feel full and energised. The idea was perhaps to reduce meal and toilet breaks, and the platform's life support systems could also be simplified. The bars somewhat looked like a strip of four white chocolate tabs, though sadly they bore no similarity in taste and were completely bland. Teu froze. Did FW722 perhaps not have any taste buds? Then she remembered having tasted metal, machine oil and sweat, so maybe she was fine.

After going back to the pilot seat she sat there staring for 20 minutes at an unmarked mechanical number display which she suspected was the jump countdown timer. When it got stuck at zero she sat frowning for a while, and then went to forage for food. She found the others sitting in a triangle on the floor in Beutraze's cabin. At its center was a pile of colourful metallic wrappers – many of them empty. The girls were all looking extremely pleased, if not ecstatic.

505 snapped out of her stupor and beamed wide eyed at Teu, then tossed what looked like a half eaten meal bar at her. 

"These... they, they make the whole mouth happy! Try it!"

Looking at the wrapper, Teu saw that it was indeed a meal bar, with "Jollyberry flavour". She nibbled at it. It tasted like a regular meal bar. She sighed, realising that to the others, a sustenance bar with taste was indeed exotic. Figuring that each of these likely contained thousands of kilo calories, she squatted down and spoke up, like an admonishing nanny.

–– "I think this might be... Outside People food, so it might not work well for us. Don't eat more than a bar, okay?"

At that the girls started to shuffle the already empty wrappers out of sight.

Just then however there was a series of beeps coming from the abandoned cockpit, and then the ship lost artificial gravity. Everyone's butts left the floor. Then there was a jostle which stirred the whole cabin into chaos. Dang, didn't the manual say something about securing the crew and any loose objects before making a jump? It was too late now as the four started to float and spin around like rag dolls, bumping and flailing. Teu tried to grab something, but let go upon discovering she was pulling someone's top up over their heads, leaving them blinded and kicking. She bumped into the roof, twirled around, felt a flailing hand grab the back stretch of her panties and tug as if a car door handle. Not thinking clearly she reached down to firmly hold the slipping panties in place by their thin side straps. This was perhaps what doomed her. 

Set spinning defencelessly on a new trajectory, Teu found that her head was on a slow but inescapable rendezvous with someone spread like a starfish, their panty clad crotch fully spinning into view. As her face pressed right into the soft underside with uncanny precision her mouth let out a literally muffled shout, and time froze.

–– "NOo-uumff!"

Though contact was brief and her brain reasonably wouldn't have been able to function if time stood still, she had a weird feeling that the embarrassing moment of contact had lasted for hours. 

Everyone fell into a heap once gravity returned, Braid landing hard on top of Teu, looking just as embarrassed as she scrambled up. She fidgeted with her panties then took little sideways steps out of the cabin like a shy crab. Teurana Zlayne felt that her status as an authority had been greatly damaged by the weirdly unlikely muff diving incident, but fortunately Firefly and 601 seemed oblivious where they still laid sprawling, and of course, 601's top was still stuck pulled over her head.

Luckily no one was hurt beyond feeling a few light dings and psychological perturbations.

Teu re-entered the cockpit and looked at a display showing a plot of their new system. They seemed to be pretty far out, at 52 S U, in Jovian territory but off the planetary plane. According to the travel guide there was a blue gas giant somewhere out here, but the orbit plot now put it on the other side of the sun. Further in an irregular asteroid belt sat at an angle, making it seem like perhaps a planet got smashed there at some point. Then finally at 9 S U orbits the target planet "Nezolthandar'ozoha" could be found. The guide recommended sticking with "Nez'oh" though, just like all but the most jingoistic of locals, of which there thankfully weren't too many at the time the travel guide was written at least. Pirates were allegedly not a problem then either.

She locked the auto pilot onto Nez'oh and hoped that the world would appear in its predicted position. Planets weren't at all likely to go astray of course.

Teu spent the evening mostly to herself, reading the ship manual and keeping an eye on sensors. The others were going through the magazines over and over again, and probably secretly nibbling on those meal bars.

When Teu fell asleep she dreamed of businessmen. In the dream the old her had been brought to a nondescript building by a very ordinary car, then she was greeted and escorted inside by her handler, a plain looking man in a black suit. He coughed and read from a small piece of paper.

–– "Our compliments on surviving the first day.", he said with bored insincerity.

–– "As per the Exchange Agreement between the H Group Recipient Universes and us in the Transfer Section, your – The Casualty's – memories of the events which are about to follow have now been made available to you in a translated format suitable for simpleforms such as yourself." 

She just screamed, but she also saw herself from the outside as a detached viewer, as if watching a replay.

–– "I don't actually look like this. Your mind has created this form as it is one which you can understand."

The Teurana Zlayne in the dream was still screaming. 

–– "We intercepted your soul as it was, well, it had been claimed by a rogue < unintelligible >."

–– "I suppose that won't translate. Anyways, seeing how it's our responsibility to keep these things in check and we failed to do so, you have a right to compensation according to Realm Council regulation 1005."

–– "...unfortunately, due to the recent... events in the multiverse and the loss of the entire Halcyon realm structure we cannot send you off with our standard compensation package. In fact, we are sending you off to a third party mitigator – goodbye!"

Huh? He just hurried off just like that?

Then she was escorted by two nice looking gentlemen through a series of corridors with pleasant and calming wall paintings of ordinary scenes like idyllic rolling hills, and ...other things. Teurana's eyes were strangely bulging, staring in absolute confusion and horror at the pictures.

Soon Teurana entered a waiting room. There were some very ordinary people inside. Kids, smiling old ladies, a man who winked at her, and a pair of adult twins happily bouncing a ball. A woman was dancing and doing pirouettes, her head twisting very normally as she spun and spun and spun.

Teurana had huddled up into a shivering ball on the floor.

Then the people gave way to an important looking chummy fat fellow in a suit. He walked up to Teurana, bent down, beamed a smile while gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

–– "I don't actually look like this. Your mind has created this form as it is one which you can understand."

–– "We here at Huhkkstar's Shunting Services are very dedicated to fulfilling the minimum compensation requirements set by our partners, and we are very happy to report that we have found a good fit for... whatever this is,", he said, lightly patting her huddled body before continuing, "You will be shunted to a reconstitution void, and then a Class H universe. While this universe is hostile to disruptions by transfers and unfortunately forces us to put you in a disadvantageous situation with a useless cheat and no information – other than the one now provided to you – your expected lifetime is still nearly 52 minutes according to our medians. May your soul find tranquility in the void."

Then she took a nice bath in a tub so vast that its limits were lost in mist. After a bit of splashing around she gradually started to look like 722  and a duck came floating up to greet her. It said "quack quack!", then left. and 722 grew still, pondering the meaning. Had the translation perhaps malfunctioned for this part? Hadn't the duck actually said something kind of important? 722 had frozen and the water became a mirror. Then she was very surprised to discover a fun looking beach ball come floating by. She waded up to it. Unexpectedly it went "Pop!" when she tried to grab it, quite startling her.

She woke up to the present feeling that she was missing something crucial, but a pair of panties squeezing her lower butt distracted her and the revelation slipped.

–o–

At the same time, in the quite elsewhere...

Beewul-xu'uhvu's upper hyper-glands were sweating wildly due to worry. It leaned forward in anticipation as Grezuul'zwar entered the office, still studying a report.

– "Well? Has the simpleform expired yet? Has the lost godling returned?" 

Grezuul'zwar looked up from its plane-sight tablet and signalled a negative with a shiver of its head.

– "We have a whole section of overlord rank observers keeping an eye on the instream sir. The simpleform appears to be an outlier and perhaps unusually crafty."

– "What about our team of simpleform transfers? What are their positions?"

Grezuul'zwar grew silent while it manipulated the tablet interface. Then it stayed silent.

– "None? They all died? All 59? That was our entire quota for this period! Bloody hermit universes!

– "We… could... sneak some more in sir."

– "That would drive the Class H mad. You know what happened last time we angered a Class H by breaking contract right?"

Grezuul'zwar knew of course. Everybody knew. Grezuul'zwar thought for a while.

– "What if... let's say one of the local simpleforms that's hostile to our target gets a little lucky. A subtle nudge of circumstances is hard to detect if we don't do it anywhere near the target. The subtle roll of a pebble lightyears away could get the job done. Our chaos team could probably set it up."

Beewul-xu'uhvu was now nervously tapping fully half of its 44 fingers on its ostean office decoration, then finally gave a short nod. The simpleform needed to expire before the next quartercycle ended or the council would bring out their bong rods – or worse.

/ End of Chapter /