#Vehicle Recovery Operations

[townpostin]

Bike Theft Ring Busted in Jamshedpur, Five Arrested

Police recover stolen motorcycles; two minors among those apprehended A coordinated police operation has dismantled a motorcycle theft gang operating in Jamshedpur’s Parsudih area. JAMSHEDPUR – Parsudih police have arrested five individuals involved in a motorcycle theft ring, recovering five stolen bikes in the process. The arrested adults include Mohd. Rehmad and Saddam Hussain from Kapali, and…

[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[todaysdocument]

Position Description for Mercury Astronaut

Record Group 255: Records of the National Aeronautics and Space AdministrationSeries: Reference Files of the Special Assistant

[underline] SS - 6.3 [/underline] [Stamped: Space Task Group] B

NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION

1520 H STREET NORTHWEST

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

TELEPHONE: EXecutive 3-3260, TW: WA 755

IN REPLY REFER TO -

[Stamped: RECEIVED NASA SPACE TASK GROUP JUN 19 2 01PM '59]

[manuscript] 3

[underline] S S- 6.3 [/underline]

SO-14

SP - 2.6 [/manuscript]

Lt. Paul P. Bennett, Jr.

BuPers - A3122

Arlington Annex, Rm. 2603

Washington 25, D. C.

Dear Lt. Bennett:

In accordance with our telephone conversation of June 15 the following is a resume of the position description for the Mercury Astronauts.

[underline] Position Title [/underline]: Mercury Astronaut

[underline] Duties [/underline]: Participates in indoctrination, developmental research, and pre-flight training programs under conditions simulating flight profiles of the type expected to be encountered with Project Mercury. Operates and/or observes fixed-base and moving-base simulator tests, serves as subject-under-test, and assists in the analysis of data for the evaluation and development of various boosters and of communication telemetry, display, vehicle-contol, envirornmental-control and other systems involved in launch, atmospheric escape, orbital flight, re-entry, landing and recovery. Participates in specialized training exercises such as centrifuge programs to build up tolerances to motions and forces associated with launch, flight without gravity, and atmospheric reentry, and to develop proficiency and confidence for vehicle operation under such conditions.

Sincerely yours,

/s/

Clotaire Wood

Technical Assistant to the Deputy Administrator

[Stamped Routing List]

BLAND

BOND

DONLAN

FAGET

GILRUTH

HAMMACK

JOHNSON [initialed: lwj]

KRAFT

KYLE

MacDOUGALL

MATHEWS

MAYER

MEYER

PRESTON

PURSER

RICKER

[strikethrough] TAYLOR [/strikethrough] [initialed: G]

ZAVASKY

ZIMMERMAN

AERO MED [initialed: HBf]

[initials: ATS]

SPACE FILES

[manuscript] COPIES TO:

SHEPARD

SCHIRRA

CARPENTER

GLENN

[nasa]

What Makes the Artemis Moon Mission NASA's Next Leap Forward?

When NASA astronauts return to the Moon through Artemis, they will benefit from decades of innovation, research, and technological advancements. We’ll establish long-term lunar science and exploration capabilities at the Moon and inspire a new generation of explorers—the Artemis Generation.

Meet the Space Launch System rocket, or SLS. This next-generation super heavy-lift rocket was designed to send astronauts and their cargo farther into deep space than any rocket we’ve ever built. During liftoff, SLS will produce 8.8 million pounds (4 million kg) of maximum thrust, 15 percent more than the Saturn V rocket.

SLS will launch the Orion spacecraft into deep space. Orion is the only spacecraft capable of human deep space flight and high-speed return to Earth from the vicinity of the Moon. More than just a crew module, Orion has a launch abort system to keep astronauts safe if an emergency happens during launch, and a European-built service module, which is the powerhouse that fuels and propels Orion and keeps astronauts alive with water, oxygen, power, and temperature control.

Orion and SLS will launch from NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida with help from Exploration Ground Systems (EGS) teams. EGS operates the systems and facilities necessary to process and launch rockets and spacecraft during assembly, transport, launch, and recovery.

The knowledge we've gained while operating the International Space Station has opened new opportunities for long-term exploration of the Moon's surface. Gateway, a vital component of our Artemis plans, is a Moon-orbiting space station that will serve as a staging post for human expeditions to the lunar surface. Crewed and uncrewed landers that dock to Gateway will be able to transport crew, cargo, and scientific equipment to the surface.

Our astronauts will need a place to live and work on the lunar surface. Artemis Base Camp, our first-ever lunar science base, will include a habitat that can house multiple astronauts and a camper van-style vehicle to support long-distance missions across the Moon’s surface. Apollo astronauts could only stay on the lunar surface for a short while. But as the Artemis base camp evolves, the goal is to allow crew to stay at the lunar surface for up to two months at a time.

The Apollo Program gave humanity its first experience traveling to a foreign world. Now, America and the world are ready for the next era of space exploration. NASA plans to send the first woman and first person of color to the lunar surface and inspire the next generation of explorers.

Our next adventure starts when SLS and Orion roar off the launch pad with Artemis I. Together with commercial and international partners, NASA will establish a long-term presence on the Moon to prepare for missions to Mars. Everything we’ve learned, and everything we will discover, will prepare us to take the next giant leap: sending the first astronauts to Mars.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 10 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Luke has a heart to heart with Emily. Spencer takes you on a little trip where you both come to an understanding before he takes a serious step on the road to his recovery.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of sexual assault and use the term “rape”, tears, dissociation, blood, self harm, making out, swearing, detailed therapy, medication. WC - 6.6k

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

“Tell me everything you know.” Luke spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone as he hid over the back of the San Antonio Police Department.

Over the swell of people coming and going, phones ringing off their hooks and keyboards clacking, he heard Phil sigh.

“I don’t really know much at all, Alvez.” Phil’s tone was laced with his frustration. “She stole a car in New York after her escape, it was found abandoned down your neck of the woods, just outside of Richmond. But from there…man I don’t know. I can only assume she must have gotten her hands on another vehicle but there weren’t any reported stolen within a fifty mile radius. 

“If she’s smart she would have headed for Mexico. But if she did that’ll make finding her that much harder. We know she had money after her first escape, we found the empty safe at mom’s house. She must have known I was close when I apprehended her and stashed it somewhere, so we have to assume she has it again. There have been no sightings of her for the last few days and you know as well as I do that without sightings, there’s nothing I can do.” 

“I wish I could help.” Luke pushed the fingers of his free hand against his temple. “But with the whole network thing we’re swamped. Not to mention we’re short on the ground. I want to be kept in the loop though. If you hear anything…”

“Of course, of course.” Phil agreed. “Knowing how she operates she’s probably worked her magic on some poor, unexpected sap who’s taken pity on her. Her face is plastered everywhere up and down the country. Someone has to recognise her.” 

“If she’s in some small Mexican town, hell if she’s in some small American town, those kinds of things don’t reach everyone.” Luke continued kneading his temple aggressively. “I hate this, I hate feeling so powerless.” 

“We’ll get her Alvez. It might not be today or tomorrow, hell it might not even be this year. But we will get her.” Phil sounded determined and it was one of the things Luke admired most about his old partner.

Even after all he’d been through with Daniel Cullen, even after his rehabilitation had almost destroyed his spirit entirely, he was one determined son of a bitch. 

“Keep me posted.” Luke replied before hanging up the phone.

He turned away from the corner wall he’d been staring at, ready to rejoin the team but a set of hauntingly intense dark eyes full of irritation were staring back at him.

She had her arms folded over her chest, her greying hair tied back into a ponytail which made her features appear more stern.

“So it’s true, you are working your own cases?” Emily clucked, tilting her head at him.

“Does Garcia ever keep her mouth shut?” Luke scoffed. “It’s just an old case from back in my FTF days, I’m sorry.” 

Emily softened slightly, dropping her arms to her sides with a huffed out breath. She quipped her head to the left.

“Walk with me.” She said before she was already leaving.

Luke quickly followed, falling into step with her. He walked with her until they reached the doors of the precinct. She shoved it open and the two stepped outside into the blistering, humid Texan heat. 

She stopped on the pavement a few feet away from the door and once again folded her arms across her chest. 

“Is this affecting your ability to be an effective member of this team?” She asked him outright.

“No.” He shook his head, jaw set. “Just some unfinished business is all.” 

“She got under your skin?” She narrowed her eyes on him, profiling him. 

“They all do.” Luke’s jaw tensed. “But yeah, I supposed she did more than most. She had everyone falling at her feet, treating her with kid gloves. Everyone seemed to forget the fact she murdered a guy. We got close to her, I’m sure we did, right before I got the call from Hotch to help out the BAU. 

“We got a tip that she’d been seen in this tiny little town of Magnolia Springs, Alabama. A guy reported he’d seen a person matching her description coming and going from his neighbours house. Someone musta tipped her off because when we arrived she was gone and the woman whose house she was supposedly staying in wasn’t talking. 

“I felt her, Emily, she was close, so close. But she slipped out of my reach. And then I joined the BAU and I wasn’t able to be there when Phil finally caught up to her. I wanted to be the one to arrest her, I don’t know why. She got to me and I have no idea why, but the thought of her escaping again is eating me up inside. And now we’re here, in Texas of all places and I…I just…” He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat. 

He coughed to try and dislodge it, rubbed his hand up and down his neck. Emily once again let her arms fall from their folded position and her shoulders slumped a little. 

“We’re right on his doorstep. Practically in his backyard.” She smiled despondently. 

She didn’t need to say his name, saying his name in fact might make matters worse. But she knew Luke understood who she meant. In truth, as soon as she’d gotten the call to come out here she had thought of Spencer. And if she was thinking about him, Luke most definitely was. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I wish it wasn’t still this…hard, you know? Two years and I still feel like it was yesterday you were telling us he left.” 

“You never got closure.” Emily shrugged, sucking in a breath. “It’s hard to move on without it. It's like a book with its end pages missing. You just keep flicking through it and hoping they will appear. There was no end for you and him, not a fleshed out one anyway. One day it was and the next it simply wasn’t.” 

“I know the rest of the team didn’t see his medical reports from Milburn but as Unit Chief, I imagine you had to?” He straightened his back. 

They’d never talked about it, there was no reason to. It wouldn’t have undone what Spencer had to endure and so they just didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was to protect Spencer’s autonomy, or maybe it was to protect themselves from it. 

Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded her head stiffly.

“Yeah, I had to read them. Unfortunately it’s part of the job. Why did you read them?” 

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” Luke shook his head. “He wouldn’t talk to me and I knew I was missing something. I had to know. Although I wish I didn’t.” 

“Palatal petechiae, indicative of forced oral sex.” Emily’s eyes welled with unshed tears as she said it out loud. “It’s a form of rape.”

Luke visibly crumbled as she spoke the word, the one word he’d tried to keep out of his head for all these years. 

But that’s what it was. Spencer had been raped, probably repeatedly. And Luke had turned his back on him. 

He slumped against the wall to keep himself balanced, the weight of Emily’s words crashing into him and forcing all the air from his lungs. 

His head was pounding. He felt his stomach turn violently. 

“I broke up with him. He was struggling through an immense amount of trauma, a trauma I knew he suffered and I still broke up with him. What kind of a person does that?” His voice cracked. 

“He didn’t want your help, Luke. He didn’t want anyone’s help. You know Reid as well as I do, probably better, and you know he was never going to admit what happened to him. He’s too proud. He’s a protector, he’s spent his entire adult life in that role. He speaks for the people who can’t speak for themselves. But when something like that happens to him, he feels he has no one to speak for him.” 

“I would have.” Luke swallowed. “I would have done anything for him.” 

“I’m sure deep down he knows that.” Emily took a step closer and gripped Luke’s shoulder tightly. He needed grounding. “But he is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met and if he thinks he can get through this on his own, that’s what he’ll do. We need to let him figure this out however he sees fit.” 

“I thought he’d come back.” A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. “I thought he’d take some time but that he’d come back. I deluded myself into thinking that one day he’d just show up and we could pick up where we left off. I still love him, Em. I still love him with every goddamn beat of my heart.”

Emily’s fingers coiled into his shoulder blade, kneading his tense muscle in her hand. 

“We’re really short on the ground and this case is a matter of urgency.” She spoke but Luke’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “But once we’re wrapped up here, whenever that might be, I think you owe yourself a vacation day. Bandera is only forty something miles from here. And I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” 

Luke’s lip quivered in understanding and he melted into her touch.

“You’re sure?” 

“I mean you’ll have to clear it with Rossi as he’s your Unit Chief but I can’t foresee it being an issue. And if I remember rightly, it’s Reid’s birthday soon, Garcia is already working on overnighting a bunch of gifts out here. It would be good if someone could give them to him.” She smiled sadly, letting go of his shoulder and taking a step backwards. 

Luke closed his eyes briefly to stem any more tears, nodding his head in thanks at his old boss and feeling a swell of emotion in that moment. 

Emily was surprised to say the least when Luke suddenly engulfed her in a tight embrace. Her arms hovered at her sides for a few seconds, while she comprehended what was happening. 

In all the years she’d know Luke Alvez, she didn’t think he’d ever hugged her before. 

When he started shaking against her, sobbing into her shoulder, she wrapped him in her arms, and held him. 

She gave him a few minutes, allowed him a brief window in which he could let himself feel the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for two years. 

Emily Prentiss was the FBI Section Chief, but that was the secondary facet of her personality. Above all else, Emily was a friend. And a damn good one at that. 

***

You heard him coming before you saw him, noting his gait was faster than you’d grown accustomed to. He didn’t sound as though he was limping too much this morning, at least he was starting to heal.

You had your back to him and kept it that way, hoping if you didn’t engage him he may well leave you alone. 

But you had no such luck.

“What the hell are you doing?” The irritation in his voice was ripe. 

You swallowed thickly before tugging lightly on Rusty’s rein to turn her about to face him. You commanded the flaxen mare to trot closer to where Spencer stood glaring at you on the other side of the enclosure. 

“I mean, I think it’s pretty clear what I’m doing.” You huffed as you got closer. “I'm riding my horse.” 

“You’ve had two lessons. Do you know how dangerous it is to ride without supervision?” He spat, unlocking the gate and stepping inside the fenced area. “Get down.” 

“No.” You scoffed. “I’m fine. You said it yourself, I’m a natural.” 

“For the love of god, you are going to be the death of me.” He shook his head, rubbing his brow beneath his stetson. 

“I’ll feed you to Rusty when that happens.” You smirked sarcastically. 

“We need to talk.” He exhaled, not at all sounding like that was something he wanted to do.

“I’m good.” You shook your head. 

“It wasn’t a question. We need to talk.” He glanced around the area and only really registered for the first time all four of the horses were grazing in the field. “Why are my horses out here?”

“So I could clean the stable.” You shrugged, patting Rusty’s neck. “I refilled their troughs, got them fresh water. Even cleaned out the cattle barn.” 

Spencer’s brows pinched as he looked up at you. 

“It’s eight am, how long have you been up?” 

“Never went to sleep.” You shrugged again. 

The look you gave him told him it was his fault you hadn’t slept. In truth he hadn’t either. 

He came around from his dissociation still on his bathroom floor as though he hadn’t moved but clearly at some point he must have because he had the razor in his hands. 

He was bleeding from a self-inflicted wound on his stomach, just left of his belly button. Once again he’d patched himself up with the use of butterfly stitches and stuck a large gauze pad over the wound.

After that he couldn’t sleep, just sat up staring at the wall thinking about where his life went so drastically wrong. 

Three times now he’d dissociated in startlingly quick succession. Three times he’d come to with unintentional cuts on his body. He was starting to scare himself if truth be told. Perhaps he needed to consider seeking out his old therapist and getting a higher dosage of his medication.

“Can we…take a ride or something?” He spoke again, voice cracking. 

“Should you be riding?” You frowned at him. 

“My leg is feeling something akin to normal again. It's the least pain I’ve been in anyway. The doctor told me I could ride again when I felt ready. And there’s somewhere I’d like to show you.” 

“Fine,” you huffed out a breath so he knew you weren’t thrilled by the idea. 

“Super, just let me grab Willow’s saddle. Oh, could you maybe help get Frank and Wilbur back to the stable?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’re taking Willow?” Your brows furrowed.

“Yeah?” He returned your expression.

“And I’m taking Rusty.” 

“Again, yeah?” 

“Have you forgotten that they hate each other?” You glared at him.

“It’s a long trek to where I want to take you and Willow is the only one strong enough and determined enough to make it there and back. Frank or Wilbur would not be able to handle it.” He shrugged.

“Can Rusty handle it?” You looked down at the mare between your legs who was eyeing Spencer warily. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” He chuckled, but there was a nervousness to his tone.

Soon though he was meandering over towards Wilbur, ready to take him back down to the stable. And without another word you turned Rusty around again and went about helping him.

***

Medina Lake wasn’t just a trek away as Spencer had put it. It was located nearly twenty miles south of Bandera, on the other side of Lakehills. It was a crescent shaped reservoir on the Medina River, eighteen miles wide at its broadest point and contained by the Medina Dam at the lakes south end. 

Spencer told you all about it as you rode together, giving Willow and Rusty enough space so as they wouldn’t cause another incident like the one that had broken Spencer’s arm. 

Apparently at the time of its construction, it was the largest concrete dam in the country, and fourth largest in the world. He told you that the dam was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

As you barely spoke in reply, Spencer continued. He went on to tell you that Medina Lake had been stocked with species of fish intended to improve the reservoir for recreational fishing. He listed largemouth bass, white bass, hybrid striped bass, catfish and carp among the species found in the lake.

But he didn’t stop there. 

He continued to fill the dead air between you by telling you about the state of the lake. According to Spencer as part of the 2010 to 2013 Southern United States drought, the lake water levels dropped below five percent capacity. As a result he told you many cracks, oil drums and a Jeep are visible due to the low water level. 

He continued with telling you that thanks to some showers in the summer of 2013 the lake levels had risen to five point two percent. But many businesses had been closed, many residents left and Lakehills had been somewhat of a ghost town ever since. 

He still carried on, despite your obvious lack of interest. Going on to tell you with an almost excited flurry, that due to heavy rainfall in the region, as of May 2015 the levels rose to forty six percent. And again due to more heavy rain, by May 2016 the lake was at one hundred percent capacity. He went to continue but by this point you held up a silencing hand. 

“I can’t, Spencer. Please? Please just stop talking for five minutes?” 

He’d huffed but yet he didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey. 

He took you all the way down to Bandera County Medina Lake Park. He paid the twenty dollar fee for you both to enter. He led you and Rusty down to a quiet alcove away from the flood of tourists. 

He found some hitching posts where you tied up your steeds, keeping enough distance between them so they couldn’t bother one another. 

Spencer couldn’t deny that his thigh was causing him aggravation by this point and his knee ached dully. You could tell by the grimace on his face that he was struggling but didn’t say anything. 

As much as you hated to admit it, the place was stunning. It combined the natural beauty of the Texas Hill Country with a picturesque watery wonderland. People in the distance were on the lake swimming, riding jet-skis and other boats. Some people on land had BBQ’s, picnics and the like. 

Spencer led you down towards the lakes edge, still ensuring to have a clear view of your two mares at the top of the bank. He found a secluded spot, away from other lake goers so the two of you could be alone. 

You took a seat on the ground, stretching your legs out in front of you and groaning a little at the chafing in your thighs from the long ride. The water was clear and the sun above caused it to sparkle. In this heat it looked positively intoxicating. 

Spencer removed his denim shirt, his black t-shirt underneath marked with sweat stains under the pits and around the collar. He lowered his stetson over his eyes to keep the sun out of them. 

Neither of you spoke for some time. Far off you could hear the sounds of other people splashing in the lake, laughing and having fun. Behind you could make out Rusty snuffling around in the grass. 

If you focused in front of you, you could easily believe that you and Spencer were the only two people in the world. Perhaps that was why he brought you here in the first place. 

After long stretches of uncomfortable silence, Spencer huffed from beside you and forced himself to speak. 

“We need to talk about last night.” He saw your back straighten at his words but you didn’t even so much as look at him. “I promise you, it had nothing to do with you. I don’t even have the words to describe what it was like for me getting to be with you like that, getting to make you feel like that. But, uh, after I…completed, my thoughts went into overdrive and I panicked. 

“I don’t know how to explain it other than that I’m not well. Mentally I am extremely sick. I told you last night that I need to test my boundaries, and I guess I pushed them a little farther than I was ready for. I really am sorry, Y/N. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.” 

The sincerity in his voice caused you to turn your head to the side and look at him. His eyes were full of uncertainty, fear and mild terror. You could see he had a heavy weight upon him and that talking about this wasn’t easy for him.

“Am I just some kind of experiment to you, Spencer? I don’t mind helping you get over whatever it is that happened to you, but if all I am to you is a test subject, please let me know before I get in over my head here.” You hated how sorry for yourself you sounded.

“You are so much more to me than that.” He frowned, shocked you would even suggest that. “But I suppose in a way, this is experimental to me. I have no idea how I’m going to react to any given situation of intimacy until I’m right in the middle of it. But please believe me when I say I would not be able to have even considered this kind of relationship with anyone else. Because of you, I’ve managed to actually maintain an erection long enough to orgasm, twice. That hasn’t happened to me in nearly four years.” His cheeks flushed in candour. 

“If it offers you any kind of comfort, last night was the first time I’ve been with a man in almost two years. And it’s the first time I have ever come by someone else's hand other than my own.” Your own cheeks reddened at your confession.

“Oh,” Spencer’s voice shot up several octaves. “Oh.” 

“To be perfectly honest with you Spencer, had the opportunity presented itself, I would have jumped you that first night we met. And I can’t pretend that I don’t want more out of this, but I am not going to push you if you’re not ready. I think if we are going to continue whatever this is, we just have to take things slowly. Like at a snail's pace.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, feeling perspiration gathering on your brow. 

“Agreed,” he nodded. “I do want to move past this. I want to be able to give you every part of myself. It's just going to take some time.” He smiled meekly. 

“I got nothing but time.” You smiled back. 

Spencer chuckled a little, shuffling closer to you in the dirt. You felt your breath hitch as he got nearer. 

“Would kissing you be entirely out of the question right now?” He rolled his lip between his teeth in his scepticism. 

“Not entirely out of the question, no.” You shook your head. 

The easiest thing to do would be to put space between you and Spencer, draw a line in the sand and remain strictly as friends. But you never did make a habit of travelling the path of least resistance. 

He leaned closer, removing his stetson and dropping it down next to him. And then his hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers brushing lightly across your skin. He pressed his lips to yours cautiously at first but within a second or two he got carried away.

His tongue brushed along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him to gain entrance. His hand weaved into your hair, fingers burying in your locks. You kissed him back with as much passion as he showed you. 

You brought your own hands to his face, holding him close. With his grip in your hair he tugged you a little, trying to convey that he needed you nearer. 

Keeping your lips attached you shuffled so you were straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. The fingers peeking out from his cast brushed along your back, under the hem of your shirt. You moved your own hands to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced. 

It wasn’t long before you lowered yourself into his lap and your hips undulated against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth and gripped your hair tighter as you felt a stirring in his pants. 

He started moving backwards, bringing you with him until you were laying on top of him. But when your full weight was flush against him, he suddenly pulled away from your lips and growled in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” You panted, sitting back a little as his face contorted. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m sorry…I did something dumb.” 

Frowning, you rolled off of him and knelt next to him while he cautiously rolled up the hem of his t-shirt to reveal the large band aid across the left side of his stomach. 

“You dissociated again?” You whimpered. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, rolling his shirt back down and sitting up. “And please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault.” 

“I noticed last night you had a bandage on your thigh. Was that…?”

“Self-inflicted? Yes.” He rubbed one eye. “I’ve never hurt myself like that outside of those dissociative states. My brain is extremely fucked in many, many ways but I am not suicidal or anything like that.”

“Do you ever remember anything from those states?” You found yourself asking. 

“It’s hazy.” He sighed. “And I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I can recall messy pieces sometimes, but it’s not clear. It’s like I’m watching myself, like an out of body experience. I’m completely disconnected from my own mind, my own body. Its fucking terrifying. And I don’t know how to stop it.” 

“You said you’d been to therapy before?” You asked softly.

“Twice.” He nodded. “Once back in DC, and once again when I moved here. Before you say anything, I am aware I need to go back. I guess I at least get to tell her the good news that my dick seems to be working again. Now we’ve just gotta focus on stopping me from having a panic attack, crying or dissociating after I come.” 

You glared at him and the candid nature in which he spoke. His lip quirked at the corner and then surprisingly he started to laugh. You just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You’ve got to laugh, it’s so absurd.” He chuckled, probably the most you’d heard him laugh before. “I’m a fucking basket case, it’s okay to laugh. If I don’t laugh I’ll…”

“Dissociate?” You quipped back. 

“Exactly.” He laughed harder, amused tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Oh god I’m a mess.” 

His laugh was infectious and you found yourself joining in despite yourself. It really wasn’t at all funny but sometimes you had to laugh in the face of extreme adversity or you would crumble. 

The two of you sat by the lakes edge laughing until you were crying, crying until you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the laughter subsided that you realised Spencer was holding your hand. 

It grew quiet again and he simply stared at you, clutching your hand in his own. You reached forward tentatively with your other hand, waiting for his okay in the form of a nod before you touched him. 

You gently wiped his tears from his cheeks and he hummed at your feather light caress. For a few minutes you stayed like this until you were ripped apart by the sound of content neighing from behind you. 

You sprung apart as though burned and you both looked up towards your horses who had managed to manoeuvre themselves closer together. 

It was hard to say who was more surprised by the sight of Willow amicably nuzzling her face against Rusty’s.  

“Are they…?” 

“Making friends.” Spencer nodded with a smile. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” You smiled too.

“That horse of yours has some kind of magic about her.” Spencer sighed wistfully, leaning closer to you again. “Just like you.” 

And when he kissed you again, you were certain that it was him and not you who was magic. 

***

Doctor Camilla Ortega was a local therapist who specialised in anxiety, depression, trauma and PTSD. Her practice was in Pipe Creek but she had clinic hours out of the Essential Mental Wellness centre right in Bandera town once a week. 

Spencer didn’t know if he was fortunate or not that she happened to be able to fit him in the very next day. 

It had been some year and a half since he last sat in her office and was overcome with anxiety just being here. He ran his fingers over his cast, back and forth, back and forth, trying to remain tethered long enough to be able to speak.

She was probably less than ten years Spencer’s senior, with sharp green eyes and a discerning stare. She had a resting bitch face if Spencer had ever seen one, but she was surprisingly soft spoken and had a contrasting calmness about her. 

“It’s good to see you again, Spencer. Although I can only assume the reason you’ve come to see me again means that you’re not doing so well?” She narrowed her eyes on him.

“Not exactly, no.” He admitted. 

He didn’t want to open up about this but he also didn’t want to have to be visiting her every week. The quicker he got this out, the less time he might have to spend on her couch. 

“I met someone.” He blurted out, eyes trained just above her head so he didn’t have to look at her. “I met someone and she’s incredible but I can’t…I still can’t take that next step.” 

Doctor Ortega was silent for a beat or two, mulling over his words briefly. 

“Have you initiated any form of intimacy thus far?” She jumped right in. 

“I, uh, I still can’t let her touch me and we haven’t had intercourse. But we kissed and, uh, I touched her. And I have gotten…erect. Twice. And uh, I also reached completion twice.” His cheeks and neck flushed red. God how he hated talking about this. 

“Without penile stimulation?” 

His face scrunched up and he nodded reluctantly. 

“And how did you feel after?” She prodded. 

“Well, uh, the first time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom. The second time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom, cried and vomited and then dissociated.” He forced the words out rapidly. “Typical stuff.” 

Ortega sucked in a breath and he heard her scrawling some notes down. 

“You hadn’t had a dissociative break in a while last time I saw you, isn’t that correct?” 

“Yes. But I’ve had three as of late.” He spoke but then continued. “It’s not her fault. I just…I can’t allow myself to enjoy being aroused without hearing their voices.” 

He didn’t need to divulge anymore than that, she knew who he meant. 

“Does she know what you suffered in prison? Have you spoken to her about it?” Doctor Ortega asked gently.

“No,” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“How do you think she would look at you if she knew?” 

Spencer’s eyes flit to the doctor, his brows pinched together tightly. 

“Like I’m broken.” He said as though it was obvious. “Like I’m dirty.” 

Doctor Ortega put her pen down and laced her fingers together, sitting further forward in her chair. 

“Spencer, that is not how other people look at you. That is how you view yourself. Unfortunately it is a common sentiment in rape survivors to feel this way, like they are of no good to anyone, unworthy of affection. I think you would be surprised how she would react if you were just honest with her.” Doctor Ortega’s eyes were piercing into him. 

“I’m not telling her and that is the end of it.” He shook his head. “I just want to know how to move past this. It’s been nearly four years and I don’t feel any closer to getting over what happened to me now than I did then.” 

“Spencer, that’s not true.” She offered him a soft smile. “Eighteen months ago when I last saw you, you couldn’t even go on a date with someone. But now you’ve not only met someone but you have opened yourself up to intimacy again, even if it isn’t going as you planned. I for one am proud of how far you’ve come, I think you should be too.” 

“Proud?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I should be proud that I can’t come without being so overwhelmed with guilt that my brain has to divorce itself just to cope? I should be proud that I managed to bring her to orgasm before I had a complete mental breakdown which ended in me cutting myself? I should be goddamn proud that I can’t have sex with a wonderful, beautiful woman because I am so utterly broken that I can stop hearing the voices, seeing the faces of my rapists? Proud? Are you fucking kidding me!” He was on his feet, he didn’t remember standing up. 

The rage bubble was expanding, filling, moving higher up to his chest. His vision blurred and he wobbled on his feet. 

Here we fucking go, was his last coherent thought before the world around him became shrouded in darkness.

***

He blinked several times, sitting up with a start. His heart was racing and his breathing was heavy. He glanced around the nondescript room through hazy eyes, trying to work out where he was.

He detected movement in the corner of his vision, a body edging closer until they were right in front of him, dropping to a crouch so their eyelines could meet. Doctor Ortega smiled sadly at Spencer as she held his gaze. 

“Are you okay?” She spoke softly and then something was being placed in his hand. 

He looked down to see the plastic cup of water he now held and quickly tossed it back.

“How long was I out?” He croaked despite the hydration.

“Only about ten minutes.” She pushed herself to stand but came and sat next to him on the couch. “Do you remember anything?” 

“No.” He shook his head. 

“You wanted to hurt yourself. You asked me several times to give you something sharp.” Ortega’s voice was a little strained. Spencer shook his head. “And you were yelling that you weren’t whole.” 

“Makes sense.” He grumbled. “I found a note you had me write myself, for my guided self talk.” And then he spoke verbatim. “I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life. I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole. I am still whole.”

“But you don’t believe a word of it.” She stated.

“No.” He agreed. “How the fuck can I still be whole when they took such a large piece of me?” 

He looked at her pleadingly as though she had all the answers. As if there was one thing she could say which would be the key to his recovery. Of course there was no such thing and he knew that. But he needed something, anything. 

“They only took from you what you let them take. What those men did to you was traumatic but you are the one in control of your own reactions to that trauma. You have let them take up this space in your brain for the last four years and every time you let them win, they grow and grow. The only way you are ever going to get over what happened to you is by persevering and I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but it's the truth. 

“I know you don’t see it but you have taken huge strides since the last time I saw you. You may keep experiencing this guilt during intimate moments but it will not last forever. I think you need to continue doing what you’re doing, putting yourself in scary situations and seeing how you react to them. Next time your experience will probably be much the same, and no doubt the time after that too. 

“But eventually, and I can promise you this, eventually you will be able to push yourself further without repercussions. You will find one day you are able to give yourself over completely to this woman and what happened to you will be the furthest thing from your mind. The reason you are still struggling so much after all this time is because you couldn’t put yourself back out there. And although this seems terrifying, I can assure it is the first step towards healing. And I’m proud of you whether you like it or not.” 

Spencer was crying by the time she finished speaking and he was nodding his head slowly in understanding. Perhaps she was right, perhaps now he was allowing himself to get close to someone he would eventually be able to move past this. 

It might get a hell of a lot harder before it gets any better, but if he didn’t keep pushing through he would be at square one forever. Like anything in life worth having, it was going to be difficult, but for the first time he believed it might actually be possible. 

“Th-thank you.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I think I needed to hear that.” 

“I do believe you can get better, Spencer and I don’t think you need my help to do that. I’ve given you all the tools, you have to be willing to put in the work now.” She pushed herself up and made her way across to her desk. “That being said, I would like to up your dosage of paroxetine just a little. And I want you to make a concerted effort to remember your grounding exercises when you feel a dissociative episode coming on.” 

“I’ll try.” He nodded in agreement. 

A few minutes later he was leaving with a new prescription, sore eyes and a new perspective on his situation. 

He found you in the driver’s seat of your car, thumbing through a book he recognised from his own collection. You closed it when the door opened and smiled softly at him. 

“How did it go?” You asked as he slid into the passenger’s seat. 

Spencer didn’t reply. He was too exhausted to speak. Instead he leaned across the central console and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and he edged his tongue into your mouth. 

The kiss only lasted a minute or so but it was more charged than any kiss you’d ever shared before. When he pulled back, you were looking at him in shock.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” You chuckled a little. 

“A thank you, I guess.” He shrugged. “It might not seem like it but I am making progress. And I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Your eyes welled at his sentiment and without thinking about it you reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

And it wasn’t lost on either of you that for the first time, he didn’t flinch at your unexpected touch. 

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Protective

Originally posted on my Wattpad @MayaBishop_is_myWife

Jackson Avery x reader

Jackson POV:

Today was a slow day, crap. Never say it's a slow day when your covering the ER. 

Bailey - "Incoming trauma, multiple vehicle collision and cyclist vs vehicle multiple crush injuries everyone be ready!"

What did I tell you? Anyway I go to get a trauma gown on and y/n comes up next to me.

Y/n - "If there's any open breaks I call dibs." Jackson - "Hey! No fair, whoever gets to them first gets it, okay?" Y/n - "Pleaseee, I haven't been inside an OR for days and I think I'm going insane. I pissed off Derek by accident and now he's letting Lexie scrub in and not me." Jackson - "Fine." Y/n - "Thank you so much!"

She exclaimed and then walked off to go wait for the ambulance. See, if it was anyone else, I would've stood my ground but, it's not just anyone it's y/n/n (your nickname) and it's obvious to everyone but her that I like her. But, oh well, she'll get the hint eventually right?

I walked outside just as the first ambulance arrived.

Paramedic - "Male, 31, crush injuries to the chest and lower abdomen, broken right leg and lacerations to the upper left abdomen!"

I see y/n face light up at the mention of a broken limb, she wants to do ortho so, she's into that kinda stuff. It's adorable to say the least.

We wheel in the guy on the stretcher and transfer him to the gurney. We begin to look at the chest to see if there's any liquid in the cavity and thankfully there isn't but. the abdomen began to swell so we knew he had free flowing liquid in there so we went straight to the OR.

Time skip to when they're finished and the guy's in post-op:

Y/n POV:

I'm currently waiting for this guy we just operated on to wake up. Jackson is bedside me, we're leanig against the nurses station as his eyelids begin to flutter. We make a b-line for his room. 

Guy - "Where am I?" Y/n - "Sir you're in the hospital. You werew involved in an accident involving 3 cars and yourself, you were on your bike. Other than your broken leg, which means we will need to keep you in here for another couple weeks to monitor it and so Dr. Torres can look you over and plan your recovery, your other injuries were fixed in the OR. You had some crush injuries that ruptured your spleen but, because we got in there quick we managed to repair it. The other injuries were superficial. For the sutures we will get Dr. Sloan to come in and check up on them ever other day to make sure it's all healing properly. Forgot to mention, Dr. Sloan is a plastic surgeon and Dr. Torres is an orthopaedic surgeon. Any question?" Guy - "Not about the medical stuff but I do have a question for you sweetheart." Y/n - "Go for it." Guy - "You free tonight? Such a pretty girl like you shouldn't be without a boyfriend." Y/n - "Oh, that's very sweet of you but unfortunately I'm on call tonight." Guy - "That's fine, just come visit me sweetheart. A young thing like you could make any man feel better." Y/n - "We'll see, maybe I'll come see you maybe I won't. Goodbye sir." Guy - "Bye sweetheart!"

I walked out of the room with Jackson close behind me. That man is very flattering but kinda creepy. I'm going to put away his chart when Jackson stopped me. 

Jackson - "Hey, what the hell was that?" Y/n - "What do you mean?" Jackson - "Don't bullshit me y/n. In there with the patient." Y/n - "Oh my god Jackson, I was reciprocating emotions it's basic patient care." Jackson - "Yeah comforting them and sharing concerns. Not flirting with them!" Y/n - "Okay wh- Jackson.." My voice calmed down a lot at this point and I looked him directly in his mesmerising green eyes.  Jackson - "What?!" Y/n - "You're jealous." At this point I was giggling at him. His face contorted into a shocked almost offended face but I didn't care because the blush that covered his face made it obvious that I was right. Jackson - "Wha-what, no I am not." Y/n - "Yeah you are don't deny it." Jackson - "I am not."  Y/n - "Yeah you areeee"

At this point he had accepted defeat and took the chart out my hand and grabbed my hand. I didn't question his actions and just followed him like a lost puppy. We came to a stop outside an on-call room and he opened the door and pushed me inside.

Y/n - "Jackson wha-"

I was cut off by his lips on mine. His arms snaked their way around my waist and pulled me close. My hands were around his neck as his soft lips moved against mine. He turned us around and gently pushed me against the door and pulled away briefly to speak.

Jackson - "I was jealous. Okay? I really like you  y/n/n." I tried to speak but he cut me off. "Don't say anything unless you want me to stop."

He pulled me back in and locked the door. He walked me over to one of the beds and gently laid me down. 

Let's just say I didn't get to go back to the patients room that night.

[lonestarflight]

Apollo Application Program: BALLOS

Concept art of BALLOS (BALlistic LOgistic Spacecraft), an Apollo-derived logistics spacecraft. It was studied by NASA, Lockheed and McDonnell-Douglas for the transportation of Astronauts to and from the Large Orbiting Research Laboratory (LORL) space station for the Apollo Application Program.

It came in three variants, a 6 astronaut version (2 crew, 4 passengers), 9 astronaut version (2 crew, 7 passengers) and a 2 astronaut version (2 crew, 10 passengers).

It would potentially be launched onboard either the Saturn IB or Titan III-C (in hammerhead configuration). The Saturn IB was preferred. Despite being bigger than the base line Apollo CSM, it would weigh roughly the same.

The 12 astronaut version has the following description:

"It is conical in shape with a spherical segment base. The base diameter of the spacecraft is 190 inches. The cargo-maneuver module is conical in shape and located immediately aft of the crew module. The conical shape adapts the 190-in. diameter crew module to the 260-inches diameter of the launch vehicle. This module is capable of carrying 13,455 lb of packaged cargo and 3,755 lb of maneuver propellant. This propellant is sufficient to meet the maneuvering impulsive velocity requirements of 1,050 fps which is provided by a modified LEM descent engine located in the module. Three solid-propellant retrorockets are located at the fore end of this module also.

This vehicle fulfills the mission requirements of delivering 12 men and 13, 455 lb of packaged cargo to a space station orbiting at an altitude of 260 nmi and an inclination of 29.5°. The launch vehicle puts the spacecraft in a 105 nmi parking orbit from which a Hohmann transfer is used to reach the rendezvous altitude of 260 nmi. Impulse for the Hohmann transfer and injection into final orbit is provided for in the 1,050 fps of impulsive velocity capability of the maneuver propulsion system. The maximum dynamic pressure of 525 psf is reached approximately 85 sec after launch. The maximum longitudinal acceleration during launch is approximately 4 g's."

At the end of the mission, the capsule would return to Earth for recovery, refurbishment and reuse. The propulsion module would be allowed to burn up.

"On an operational basis, prelaunch preparation time for a new [Ballos] spacecraft is 40 days. This time period includes receiving and shop processing prior to mating to the erected launch vehicle.

The projected 1968 to 1970 time period estimate for on-pad preparation time for the Saturn IB launch vehicle is 48 days. Of this, 23 days are allowed for payload mating and integrated vehicle checkout. The total prelaunch processing time required for the [BALLOS] vehicle, therefore, would be 63 days."

BALLOS never progressed past the study phase, like many proposals of the Apollo Application Program.

Date: Study 1964

source, source

NASA ID: S64-3663, S63-4634, S64-1800

[angstyaches]

The Hexagon: Part Five

Parts One-Two | Part Three | Part Four

Note: Thank you to anyone who's been following this mini plot! This is the last instalment in terms of getting them to safety, but there is an aftermath/recovery fic or two (or three?) in the works.

CW: effects of hunger/exhaustion, dangerous driving (driving while way too tired, do not do it), nausea, insecurity.

___

“Charlie.” 

The lines on the road swam back and forth, like eels moving through water. The white of the paint made no sense. It was as though Charlie’s eyes had to mix up a bunch of colours every few seconds to keep the white looking white. 

“Charlie, pull over.” 

Next to the steering wheel, an empty Coke bottle tipped from side-to-side in the cup holder. Charlie had found it there, half-full and lukewarm, when they’d gotten back to the car. He had gulped half of what was left before passing it to Shayne, and the sugar entering his system had felt like jumping into a cold swimming pool on a hot day – invigorating. It might have been sitting in his stomach like a ball of lead, but the energy boost had made Charlie feel invincible.  

For all of a few seconds. Long enough for him to feel somewhat okay about getting behind the wheel.

Charlie blinked. The white line snaked under the car. It wasn't supposed to do that. 

“Charlie!” Shayne snapped. “Did you hear me? I’ve got a signal, pull over.”

Right... Right, the plan had been to drive until one of their phones had enough battery to switch on, and there were enough bars to make a phone call. Charlie had been so caught up in simply keeping the tyres between the shifting lines that all of the other details had fallen out of his head. 

He flicked the indicator. He knew he had to check his mirrors, but for a gut-wrenching second, he wasn’t quite sure where they were. He found them, checked them all twice, glanced over his shoulder to make extra sure the road was clear. 

The second he had switched off the ignition, his whole body slumped. His lungs deflated from holding in a huge breath, as though he’d been underwater for the entire duration of the drive so far.

 “Sorry,” Charlie said.

“It's fine,” Shayne said quietly. He had Charlie's phone in one hand, connected to the charging port. His other hand was squeezing around the edge of the passenger seat, knuckles white, even now that the car had stopped. “You got us here. You did it.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if it had been a few seconds, minutes, or a half hour since they’d retrieved the car from the edge of the forest and followed the country lanes out to the main road. The white road markings were no longer whizzing past, but his eyes kept tricking him into thinking they were still crawling along, like skinny little conveyor belts laid out on the tarmac. 

He felt very much like he did after four or five beers. That was only a gut-churning thought if he focused on the fact that he’d just been operating a moving vehicle, so he decided not to. He closed his eyes. It was the only way he could stop colours from mixing and lines from crawling. 

“Hello?” a tinny voice asked. 

The sharp jolt of fear in his chest let Charlie know he’d dozed off, dipping into microsleep with the steering wheel pressing into his forehead. He had to quickly remind himself that he had already parked the car.

“H-hey,” Shayne said into the phone. His hands were trembling so badly that he was using both of them to keep the phone against his ear. Charlie wanted to reach over and squeeze his leg for comfort, but couldn’t find the strength.

“Shayne, is that you?” 

Charlie opened his eyes a crack. He would never have thought he’d be so happy to hear Elliott’s voice; but for the past day, he hadn't thought he'd ever hear another voice again, besides his own and Shayne's.

“Um, yeah, it’s me, I –” 

“Oh my god, you little –?”

Shayne winced and held the phone further away. He turned down the volume and brought it back towards his ear, staring straight through the windscreen. He let Elliott ramble for a few more seconds. He looked like he was struggling to draw breath.

“Charlie and I got caught in something,” he said. “No, El, I mean we were actually... fucking stuck. There was this – this trap, set up to catch demons, and it – it worked on us. We couldn’t get out.” 

“Excuse me?” Even with the volume reduced, Charlie heard that clear as day from Elliott's end.

“Could you come and get us?” Shayne’s voice broke. He had held it together long enough to get Charlie to the car, to support Charlie through the drive to the main road, but now he was crumbling, and Charlie’s heart felt like it was being wrung out. “Please, Elliott, we’re – we’ve got Charlie’s dad’s car, but Charlie’s not... doing good. He m-might be in shock or something, I don't know. And we're just...” 

Charlie’s stomach twisted. 

“I wouldn’t usually ask, you know that. But he’s –” Shayne froze. He shrank a little in the passenger seat. By the time Elliott had finished talking back to him, his eyes were bright with tears. “Okay. Yeah. Sending it now.” 

Before they hung up, Charlie thought he heard ‘be there soon’.

It seemed like a big promise to make; Elliott didn’t even know where they were yet. Charlie knew Elliott could travel at unnatural speeds, but surely there were limits to a power like that. Charlie could usually ramble on about Elliott and his recklessness until the cows came home, but right now, even that didn’t hold any appeal.

He just wanted to sleep. The thought of his own bed still being so far away made tears well up in his eyes. He felt like a toddler, ready to sob until someone could put him down for a nap.

As soon as he had slid the phone onto the dashboard, Shayne hugged his arms to his waist. He shut his eyes, grimacing, and drew a long, shaky breath. 

He was falling to pieces just like Charlie, but he’d somehow managed to hold it together long enough to get them to safety, to make sure help was on the way.  

Charlie hesitated. Maybe the kindest thing to do was to just pretend, to let Shayne think he was breaking down privately, but Charlie couldn’t do it. He was drained, empty, probably in shock, and yet staying down would have been the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 

“Lovely,” he murmured. 

Shayne jumped, rolling his eyes as he glanced away for a few seconds. His shoulders hunched as he turned back towards Charlie. “Are you okay?” 

Charlie opened his mouth but could only manage a breathless sigh. Of course he wasn’t okay, but admitting it would have felt like punching Shayne in the gut, so he didn’t. He pushed his shoulders into the seat and tilted his head back. It wasn’t as easy on his exhausted muscles as flopping against the steering wheel had been, but at least there was no pressure on his head. 

“Um...” Shayne glanced towards the phone. “Elliott’s go – going to come and get us.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Shayne reached over and cupped Charlie’s thigh. If he hadn't been so sure that he would flop as soon as his weight shifted, Charlie would have leaned across the seats to put his head on Shayne's shoulder. God, he had spent so much of his time in the hexagon lying on his back or his side, and still Charlie’s body and brain just longed to be horizontal, to go limp.

“Tired?”

A dull ache pulsated throughout Charlie's bones. “So tired.”

“El's gonna drive,” Shayne mumbled. “You could move to the back seat and try to sleep. If you want?” 

“Mmm.” The back seat. Charlie hadn’t even thought of that. He let himself out through the drivers’ side door, propping his arm against the side of the car. The scampering white lines on the road made his head swirl until he turned away from them.

He climbed into the back seat.

After a moment of fresh air, he realised how sickly warm the air inside the car was, after days of being parked up. Charlie's insides felt just as stagnant. The flat Coke gurgled violently in his belly, the syrupy taste still present on his tongue.

Despite all of that, Charlie quickly found a position that didn’t make him feel like his bones were at war with each other. As soon as his eyes closed, he remembered that he had wanted to ask Shayne how he was doing, maybe even ask him what exactly had happened out there, but as soon as he found a sliver of comfort, sleep found him. 

___ 

Shayne jumped to attention at a soft tapping sound.

He hadn't been sleeping, not really, but he'd definitely spaced out.

Everything felt too close; the backs of the car seats, the footwells, the press of the trees just outside. Only Charlie’s closeness felt right. He’d dropped off to sleep with his head propped against the door, and Shayne had been able to lean and put his head on Charlie’s shoulder.

A face was peering through the back window closest to Shayne. Elliott’s gaze was solemn as he gave a little wave, then wiggled his hand back and forth as though he were holding invisible keys. 

Shayne’s head swam as he lifted it, nodding towards the steering wheel. He’d taken Charlie’s keys and tucked them there before they’d climbed into the back seat. 

In the blink of an eye, Elliott dissolved into a twittering grey cloud that slipped through the passenger side door and across the centre console. He re-materialised in the driver’s seat, his shoulders filling out the backrest. He raised a hand to adjust the rear-view mirror. His pinstriped sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. 

He caught Shayne's eye in the mirror, a silent greeting. Shayne swallowed heavily, though it didn’t help with the tight feeling in his throat.

“Hmm,” Elliott hummed softly, finding the keys and putting them in the ignition.

Shayne steadied a hand against Charlie's arm, ready to comfort him in case the car rumbling to life stirred him from his sleep. He continued drooling against the car door. Of course he did.

“This is what middle-aged white men are driving nowadays? Outrageous,” Elliott mused softly. 

I wouldn’t usually ask. As soon as Shayne had blurted that out on the phone, Elliott had done something that Shayne had only heard him do once before, back when Felix had left, and it had briefly seemed as though he would never come back. 

Elliott had choked up.

Now, in the car, he was reaching for the aviators hanging from the front of his buttoned shirt.

Wouldn’t usually ask? he had repeated, his voice laced with hurt. Shayne had felt a lurch in the back of his throat as he wondered why the fuck he had felt the need to say that in the first place.

In the driver's seat, Elliott casually slipped his sunglasses on.

“Thank you,” Shayne mumbled.

Elliott shook his head and shifted the car into gear. “Where the hell else would I be, kid?”

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Turkish news outlet Anadolu News Agency covers the recovery efforts following Israeli airstrikes in Beit Lahiya, in Gaza's north, where endless bombings have left scores of civilians trapped under the rubble. The lives of Palestinian civilians has become an endless scramble for survival, interspersed with efforts to save their friends, neighbors and family buried under their own homes and shelters collapsed on them by the Israeli occupation's bombardment. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DAY 226: ISRAELI OPERATIONS TO EXPAND IN RAFAH, CROSSINGS REMAIN CLOSED TO AID TRUCKS, SETTLERS ATTACK OTHER AID TRUCKS IN THE OCCUPIED WEST BANK, ENDLESS BOMBARDMENT CONTINUES UNABATED

On 226th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 8 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 70 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 110 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted, as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Israeli occupation's Minister of Defense, Yoav Gallant, and Israeli Chief of General Staff, Herzi Halevi, approved the next phase of expanded military operations in the Palestinian city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, on Sunday.

According to a report published in the Hebrew media, Israeli Channel-14, the two members of Prime Minister Netanyahu's War Cabinet, Gallant and Halevi, have agreed to escalate the Israeli occupation army's ground operations in Rafah following two weeks of bombardment of the city, along with incursions by Israeli armored vehicles and soldiers into neighborhoods east of Rafah.

Since the start of occupation's military operations in Rafah, more than 800'000 Palestinians have fled the city, where more than 1.4 million civilians had sought refuge after the Israeli occupation declared Rafah to be a safe-zone at the start of the war.

Israeli Channel-14 says senior officials with the occupation army will present the next phase of operations to the Biden administration's National Security Advisor, Jake Sullivan, expecting operations to "expand considerably" as a result of decision.

In the meantime, Gaza's government media office said today that the Israeli occupation continues to prevent the passage of humanitarian and medical aid convoys from entering the Gaza Strip, and also prevents the sick and wounded from leaving Gaza for treatment abroad.

This marks the 13th consecutive day the Israeli occupation army closed the two crossings, making the humanitarian crises unfolding in Gaza that much worse, as civilians continue being starved, blockaded and bombarded by the occupation.

According to a statement of Gaza's media office today, the Israeli occupation prevented the entry of approximately 3'000 various kinds of aid trucks, and also prevented at least 690 sick and wounded Palestinians from traveling abroad for medical treatment.

In a statement issued by the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor (Euro-Med), the human rights organization said the continued closure of the two crossings since the 7th of May continues to exacerbate the catastrophic situation in Gaza, excellerating the genocide perpetrated by the Israeli occupation.

According to Euro-Med Monitor, the Israeli occupation has tightened its "heavy grip and stifling siege" on the Gaza Strip, isolating the enclave from the outside world while preventing the sick and wounded from receiving proper medical treatment, which Euro-Med says is responsible for the deaths of dozens of Palestinians who could have been saved had they received assistance.

In other news on Sunday, a large group of extremist Israeli colonial settlers attacked humanitarian aid trucks loaded with food supplies as they were headed towards Gaza through the Turqumiya crossing, northwest of Hebron, in the southwest of the occupied West Bank.

Reporting on the incident stated that drivers witnessed the settlers stopping aid trucks on their way to the Turqumiya crossing, on the Israeli side of the border, before attacking them and destroying the supplies loaded on the trucks.

According to Adel Amr, an official with the Shipping Syndicate, drivers of aid trucks now fear the attacks of violent Israeli settlers, making the contracting of drivers for humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza that much more difficult.

Another merchant involved in the coordination of aid deliveries told reporters that attacks by Israeli extremists are responsible for raising the costs of shipping aid deliveries to Gaza, increasing from 5'000 sheckles per load, to 20'000 sheckles.

The violent Israeli colonial settlers not only target and destroy the supplies loaded on aid trucks, but also deliberately destroy the trucks, and often attack drivers themselves, leading to injuries among drivers following some of the attacks.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued their violent assault on various axis of the Gaza Strip, killing and wounding dozens of civilians and continuing the destruction of Palestinian residences and infrastructure, including healthcare infrastructure.

Medical sources in Gaza reported on Sunday that the occupation army has begun a siege of the Al-Awda Hospital in Jabalia, in the north of the Gaza Strip, preventing staff from providing the sick and wounded with medical treatment services.

According to local reports, occupation artillery has targeted the hospital with several shells, preventing Palestinians from accessing the hospital, while also preventing staff from entering or exiting the hospital's facilities, severely hampering their ability to perform their duties.

At the same time, D9 armored bulldozers belonging to the IOF are bulldozing sites in the vicinity of Al-Awda.

In further crimes of the Israeli occupation, IOF warplanes bombed a gathering of civilians east of the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing three civilians and wounding dozens of others, including several children.

In another atrocity, IOF fighter jets bombed a residential apartment in the Abu Hashem building, in the Al-Balad neighborhood of central Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing at least three more civilians and wounding a number of others. The dead and wounded were recovered from under the rubble by local civil defense personnel and taken to a nearby hospital.

Strikes continued overnight and were renewed at dawn on Sunday, with intense artillery bombardments and airstrikes hammering the Nuseirat, Bureij and Jabalia Refugee Camps, while also targeting Beit Lahiya in the north and Rafah in the south.

In one example, occupation aircraft bombed a Palestinian house north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of three civilians and wounding several others.

In another war crime, occupation air forces bombed and destroyed the residential home of Palestinian journalist Abdullah Al-Najjar, in Jabalia al-Balad, in northern Gaza, killing the reporter.

Intense artillery shelling by the Israeli occupation army also targeted areas near Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahiya, and also in Jabalia, which led to additional casualties.

A further IOF raid targeted the Bureij Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, while at the same time, occupation forces bombed neighborhoods east and north of Rafah.

Yet another horrific atrocity occured when the Israeli occupation forces launched a violent firebelt targeting the New Camp area of the Nuseirat Camp, in central Gaza, destroying an entire residential square.

Following the strike, local civil defense and paramedic crews managed to recover the bodies of at least 20 Palestinians who were killed in the assault, and also rescued large numbers of wounded civilians, including several children, from under the rubble.

Additional reporting publishing updated figures says the bodies of 31 civilians killed in the strike have since been recovered by local civil defense crews.

Unfortunately, the atrocities and massacres didn't end there, occupation air forces also bombarded several neighborhoods of Gaza City, including the bombing of the Shaheen family home in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing 3 civilians and wounding 7 others.

Meanwhile, another airstrike on a school sheltering displaced Palestinian families in the Al-Daraj neighborhood, east of Gaza City, resulted in the deaths of three citizens and wounded a number of others according to initial reports.

Updated figures published in the media say the death toll in the Al-Daraj school strike rose to 13 following the work of local paramedic and civil defense crews.

Occupation forces also bombed a residential home belonging to the Awad family near the Al-Safaa Mosque in the Bureij Camp, in central Gaza, while a citizen was killed and others wounded following an Israeli airstrike on a group of civilians in Deir al-Balah.

Local witnesses also reported that Israeli military helicopters were seen opening fire east of the city of Rafah, in Gaza's south.

Simultaneously, occupation aircraft launched a raid on central Rafah, while Israeli gunboats fired artillery shells towards the city's coast and also bombed various neighborhoods in eastern and central Rafah.

Yet another atrocity occured when an Israeli drone fired a missile towards two civilians collecting firewood in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City, killing one and wounding the other.

Additionally, an IOF airstrike targeted the vicinity of the post office in the center of the Jabalia Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians, while occupation aircraft bombarded the Tal al-Zaatar area.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the local population has risen further still, now exceeding 35'456 Palestinians killed, including over 15'000 children and 10'000 women, while another 79'476 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

May 19th, 2024.

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

New law provides for space activities in Brazil

On August 1, 2024, the Brazilian Federal Government enacted Law No. 14,946/2024, which provides for space activities in Brazil.

Space activities that fall under the new regulation include:

launch vehicles take-off from national territory;

return of launch vehicles, or parts of it, to the Earth’s surface, landing on national territory;

transportation of equipment and people to outer space from national territory;

development of space objects in national territory;

development of space objects abroad with the participation of a Brazilian entity;

development of space objects commissioned by a Brazilian entity;

space tourism;

exploration of celestial objects;

exploration of space resources;

launch, command, control, re-entry, and recovery of space objects of which Brazil is the launching country;

operation of equipment and systems that enable the operation, data reception, monitoring, and surveillance of space objects;

services to extend the lifespan of satellites; and

removal of space debris.

Continue reading.

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (22)

Prologue| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

Amy has now gone missing; will Lucas get her back home safely?

Official soundtrack list:  here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

Key words/terms which people may not understand:

DVLA - "Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency' which is a government department in the UK and handles all driving licences, registrations and car tax.

ANPR - "Automatic numberplate recognition"

Amy was bound at her wrists and ankles and perched on a chair, with the rope around her wrists, binding her to the chair. She grimaced and squinted as the bag was pulled from her head and an intense light was shone in her face. Had she been knocked out? She couldn’t quite remember what had happened once she’d passed The King’s Head and felt someone drag her down the adjoining backstreet. Everything turned black and then she woke in this place. There was a dull thump in the back of her head and she had a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Amy Holland,” a voice came. 

She could see the outline of someone from behind the light and they began to move closer towards her. By now and the light was hurting her eyes; every time she blinked and it felt like a stab of raw pain behind her eyelids. 

“If you co-operate then you’ll be fine,” the voice came again. It was an American man’s voice. “I want Lucas North. He’s the reason my sister is dead. She tried to warn you against him but, of course, you wouldn’t listen. So maybe this will wake you up.”

“Wake me up to what?” Amy replied. “How horrible of a man he is? It’ll take a lot more than that to make me think anything but that Lucas is an amazing man and I love him. You can’t take that away from me.” 

“He’ll definitely come and look for you though, won’t he? Play the doting fiancée and the hero so he can impress you.” 

“He’s already impressed me,” Amy hissed. “What exactly is your plan here?”

“See how far Lucas will go for you, and then I can kill him with my bare hands.” 

“I think you underestimate…”

“I don’t think you’re in the prime position to tell me I’m underestimating MI5. I have far more experience with the British security services than you. You started in November, and you seem to think you know everything about them. I’ve worked in intel for most of my life, and I know how your team work, darling.” 

The adrenaline was pumping in Amy’s body as she looked up into the grey eyes of Sarah Caulfield’s vengeful brother. Her fight or flight system had come online, ready to push her into further danger or pull her from it. She could feel tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. Her heart was racing, but she inhaled deeply, trying hard to somehow relax herself. Pulling against the bindings was of no use. 

‘Caulfield’ as Amy referred to him in her mind, soon left her alone in the darkness again. All she had was her thoughts of Lucas, whom she knew would have realised she was missing. Their living arrangement and schedules was something both of them had become so used to now, that Amy knew Lucas couldn’t have overlooked any changes or slight deviations. 

In the darkness and she replayed the times when they laughed together in bed, and he would tickle her under the duvet. But it would soon turn into a more serious moment and they would eventually make love. Caulfield surely could only go by what his sister had disclosed to him, and had no idea just how loving and gentle of a man Lucas North really was behind closed doors. She knew with her whole heart that he would get to her. Nothing would stop him fighting to save her. She had no place for doubts at this point. She kept her mind focused on Lucas and the words dum spiro spero: while I live, I hope. 

***

Back at the grid, Lucas had been working constantly for nearly two days. He was running on pure adrenaline now, unable to let any kind of fatigue take over. All that mattered was Amy. He hadn’t showered, shaved, changed his clothes and barely eaten. All he had managed to eat was a chocolate bar out of Amy’s desk drawer. 

“Lucas, go home tonight,” Harry said, coming to his desk. “And that is an order. We’re all on this.” 

“Harry, how can I?” Lucas said, looking up at his boss with dark circles growing around his ice blue eyes. “I know Sarah’s behind this, or at least someone connected to her.” 

“At least go and have a shower, change your clothes, get something to eat.” 

Lucas travelled back to his and Amy’s flat upon Harry’s final demand. He entered the quiet flat, sighing as he did so. Everything made him think of her: the Disney figurines, the Tinkerbell mug which was still on the coffee table, the pair of pink, fluffy slippers which had been left in the hallway. The hallway – the place he’d made love to Amy for the first time. He could feel her gripping onto him, hear her gentle moans against his ear, feel her soft skin and smell her honey shampoo. 

If she dies, what else do I have? 

Lucas sat down on the edge of their bed and picked up a jumper of Amy’s, and as he lifted it to his nose, he could smell her perfume on it: Olympia by Paco Robbane. It was the very thing that made him aware of her presence in the coffee shop over a year ago. The sweet scent had hit him suddenly, and he turned to see her, sitting alone in the back corner of the café, doodling in her notebook. Then it was her green eyes that attracted him first; large and bright. For a few days and Lucas had battled in his mind with why he had become interested in her. She was not the kind of woman he would have normally become interested in or involved with. Sophisticated, independent and sharp women were the ones he normally found himself in relationships with. Amy was independent, yes, but she didn’t possess an obvious air of sophistication and was not sharp tongued, unless angry. She was softer, non-assuming, and unique. 

Lucas bowed his head and wept. His one chance at a normal life, and it was being ripped away from him again, threatened by someone who could not let go of the past. 

***

Amy had no idea how much time passed. She was left in a dark room, with her captors only coming to her to allow her to relieve herself in a bucket, or to offer food and drink. Lucas’ face was the main thing that Amy saw in her mind; he was smiling at her, his voice wrapping around her, telling her how strong she was. She held on to that, knowing that he would come for her. One way or the other, Lucas would come. 

Caulfield came back to Amy, and once again, she had no idea how long it had been since he last spoke with her. As soon as he spoke, she felt her ears prickle as her hearing had become heightened due to the lack of light. The only noise she had had as company was the odd tap of someone from another room, or the sound of her breath. 

“MI5 should be aware of your disappearance by now, Miss Holland. And no doubt your boyfriend will sweep in to save the day, giving me the opportunity to take him down. This is personal, and it’s just a shame you got caught in the crossfire.” 

Amy remained quiet. Nothing she said would be of any use; this man seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice, spilling his revenge talk bullshit. 

***

Everyone on the Grid worked long hours to get Amy home. It had been two days now since she was last seen. Lucas was quiet, with his jaw clenched constantly. No one dared approach him, unless it was something helpful to the case. 

On the afternoon of day two, Lucas’ phone rang. ‘Unknown number’ flashed on the screen. 

“Yes?” Lucas asked, inhaling sharply. This could only be in connection with Amy. Why else would an unknown number call his work mobile? 

“Lucas North.” Not a question. A fact. Whoever was calling was only stating that they knew they had the right number. “Will send coordinates. Come alone. If anyone else comes with you, we’ll shoot her. Leave your phone behind; we’ll know if you have it.” The accent was American, and the voice male. This was someone connected to Sarah Caulfield. He knew it. 

Before Lucas could muster words, the line went dead. 

Lucas rushed into Harry’s office, relaying the details of the call. “I need to go on my own, Harry.” 

“We need to make sure you can be tracked,” Harry demanded. 

“This is the CIA. I know they’re connected to Sarah Caulfield. Whoever was calling, is American. They’ll have metal detectors and know if I’m being tracked. This is between me and them.” 

***

Amy was sat in darkness. The bindings had started cutting into her wrists and her arms ached, being pulled behind her back. The pain had been getting worse in the last hour or two and it was beginning to spread up her back and into her neck. The only time she was free of the bindings was when she needed to relieve herself or was eating, and even then, a man sat directly in front of her wearing a balaclava, making sure that she couldn’t run. 

She let out a groan and tilted her head back. Her eyes focused on the darkness, her gaze falling further into it. In her imagination, she could feel Lucas stood just behind her, his lips trailing down her cheek and his arms wrapped around her middle. “I love you, angel.”

Time continued to pass. People came and went; that much she knew from the sound of doors opening and closing. There were muffled voices from the other side of what she felt was a metal shutter door. Whenever there had been any light shone toward her, she’d made out what seemed to be a factory-type environment. Voices in the room echoed, signalling that she was in a large space. More than likely she was still in London somewhere, stuck inside a factory unit. 

More waiting. Food was served to Amy; porridge, later followed by a cheese sandwich. She’d had at least two lots of breakfast now, so she’d been in this place for two days. 

Suddenly, a door opened from behind Amy. Voices drifted through into the open space and one of them she immediately recognised. “Lucas?!” she called. 

“Amy?” he called back. 

“Shut up, Superman!” Caulfield snarled. “Just get the fuck in there.” 

Lucas cried out in pain, his calls echoing. 

Amy whimpered for him. 

A light was shone again, blinding Amy. She gasped and lowered her gaze away from the light. Slowly she opened her eyes again, wincing against the ache. She could hear scuffling, grunts and could see the very vague outline of figures, all haloed by the light. 

Lucas was dragged to a seat and bound to it, just like Amy was. He could see Amy sitting a short distance away from him, and as the men walked away, he pulled himself up, the chair hanging against his bindings and he scooted over to her. 

Amy heard him whisper her name and just before the light disappeared, she saw the outline of his features, immediately recognising that profile. She pulled toward him and drew her cheek against his, immediately beginning to weep. Just the sound, touch and smell of him made an innermost peace wash over her. His cologne wafted up her nose and she felt the tickle of his growing stubble against her cheek. Unable to embrace, Lucas and Amy kissed in the darkness. 

As Lucas kissed down her face, he could feel her tears against his lips. “I promise to get us out of here, angel.” 

“He said he wants you,” Amy said. “But don’t you dare play some heroic so we get split up. We’re getting out together, or not at all.” 

Pride and love swelled inside Lucas’ chest. “I love you so much,” he replied. 

*** 

Back on the Grid, Malcolm and Tariq had been going over every piece of CCTV footage they could find, piecing together a partial vehicle registration number from a white van that was seen one street away from Amy’s abduction point. That was all they had to go on. Lists of vehicles with that same description and last three letters on the plate were run through all DVLA databases. This line of enquiry came to a dead end. Until Ros noticed a small van, only just visible at a junction in a southerly direction from the street where Amy disappeared. 

“There! I can just see the very edge of a light from the back of a vehicle. Malcolm, try and get footage from the angle looking down the junction and straight at the back of the vehicle.” 

“On it,” Malcolm said. 

A short while later and Malcolm had found that it was a small van which was registered to a window cleaning business. Also, it was noted that five minutes after Amy disappeared from view, the van moved. Two men, wearing all black clothing were seen getting into the van. 

Malcolm continued digging into the details of the vehicle and the paper trail that it was leaving behind. “The van is registered to Ace Window Cleaning, operated and owned by Robert Anderson. I’ve mapped out through ANPR data where the van has been and which properties it’s been seen doing business with. One of them was the ground floor flat of Martin Page. And with a little more magic, I can confirm that Martin Page is an alias that is used by CIA agent Randall Blanchard, known colleague and field partner of Simon Caulfield, older brother of Sarah Caulfield.” 

“Lucas was right,” Ros said simply. “Track the ANPR data of that van. Get everything you can on where it’s been the last two days since Amy was last seen. One of the agents obviously paid off Robert Anderson for use of the vehicle, hoping it wouldn’t be traced back to either one of them. Little do they know, we’ve got a lot of fancy tricks up our sleeves.” 

***

Amy rested her head against Lucas. Every now and again, she would feel him kiss her head. 

A night vision camera was hovering above them, and in another part of the building, in a sterile-looking white room, Simon Caulfield watched on. He stared at the monitor and then turned to his partner, Randall Blanchard. “Have you sent the package yet?” Simon asked. “First class?” 

“All done,” Randall replied, taking a mouthful of bitter coffee from the paper Costa cup in his hand. 

“We all know how doting Mommy and Daddy are with their little girls.” 

“What exactly do you want to do with them?” Randall asked. 

“Play with them a little, I guess. And then kill him. We’ll both get our revenge for what he did to Sarah.” 

***

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[townpostin]

Police Bust Motorcycle Theft Gang In Sakchi, Recover Five Vehicles

Four Suspects Arrested Following Months-Long Investigation SP Rishab Garg hails operation as significant victory against organized crime. JAMSHEDPUR – The Sakchi Police have successfully apprehended four individuals who are part of a well-known gang involved in motorcycle theft. As a result of their efforts, they were able to recover a total of five stolen vehicles, marking a significant…

[myreia]

— B A S I C S

Name: Aureia Malathar Nicknames: Aur Age: 28 at the start of ARR, 38 in 6.x. Nameday: 30th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon Race: half-elezen (wildwood), half-hyur (midlander) Gender: female [she/her] Orientation: biromantic asexual Profession: warrior of light, battlemage-for-hire, former spy/operative

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: black with red streaks Eyes: red Skin: pale Tattoos/scars: arcane brand burned into her back

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Elgara Theorzen (deceased, killed in Bozja), Ariv Theorzen (deceased, killed in Garlemald) Siblings: Kallias Theorzen (twin brother), currently alive Grandparents: deceased, names unknown In-laws and Other: married Thancred post-5.0. (impulsive decision, definitely happened too soon), considers Ryne her daughter, considers Urianger her brother Pets: Filo (chocobo), Nox (carbuncle), Castor (white whittret), Nutkin (nutkin)

— S K I L L S

Abilities: DRK/GNB | WHM/SGE | RPR/DRG | MCH | BLM/RDM Hobbies: botany (she's not good at it), training & learning new combat techniques, hiking, wandering in busy cities and taking it all in, river boating, collecting weapons, collecting earrings & rings, magical research

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Traits: determined, self-assured, inquisitive, compassionate for those forgotten and those left behind, loves fiercely and deeply Most Negative Traits: reckless, impulsive, selfish, abrasive, doesn't trust easily, prone to keeping secrets

— L I K E S

Colours: black, dark red, dark blue, silver Smells: the woods after rainfall, pine, the smokiness of a good campfire, saffron, a hint of citrus, the spice of street food in a busy market Textures: supple leather, polished wood, soft snowfall Drinks: tea, coffee, lemon water, orange juice

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: no Drinks: formerly yes, became an alcoholic in Stormblood, is now in recovery and doesn't drink Drugs: no Mount Issuance: Filo accompanies her almost everywhere; she has an amaro on the First (currently unnamed names are hard); occasionally rides a motorcycle or drives another vehicle; when she wants to show off, she shows up on a firebird Been Arrested: yes (several times) 🙃

Tagged by: @ardberts thank you!!! 🖤✨ Tagging: @birues @ishgard @wind-up-nhaama @roguelioness @tsunael @ahollowgrave

[beardedmrbean]

MEXICO CITY — In a small town in Mexico’s western state of Michoacán, members of a criminal group forced residents to pay for high-cost internet service — or face death.

After these threats, residents made monthly extortion payments while simultaneously reporting the situation to authorities.

After months of investigations, officials raided three properties, finding evidence such as antennas, internet repeater equipment and connections, which were handed over to the prosecutor's office.

While it may sound surprising for Mexico's drug cartels to be involved in internet service, those who follow the criminal groups' activities aren't at all surprised.

"Drug cartels have diversified their operations since their inception," security analyst David Saucedo said. "Many of them started as criminal organizations whose main activity wasn’t drug trafficking."

Some gangs were involved in, for example, fuel theft, others were involved in vehicle theft and others specialized in robbing public transportation, Saucedo said.

“Criminal groups that joined drug trafficking already had these other activities beforehand.”

Besides the billions of dollars cartels make from the drug trafficking industry, the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration says the most powerful drug cartels, Sinaloa and Jalisco New Generation (CJNG), are involved in many illegal ventures that result in profits.

“The Sinaloa Cartel is most closely identified with drug trafficking but is also engaged in extortion, the theft of petroleum and ores, weapons trafficking, migrant smuggling, and prostitution,” the 2024 National Drug Threat Assessment states.

CJNG directs the theft of fuel from pipelines, extorts agave and avocado farmers, migrants and prison officials, and taxes migrant smugglers, the report said.

"The portfolio is extensive. However, while drug trafficking is the most profitable activity, it has a longer recovery time for the investment compared to other ... criminal activities, which yield almost immediate profit," Saucedo said.

From cartels calling older Americans to offer timeshares in Mexico, leading to the loss of nearly $40 million, to cartel-backed smugglers reaping growing profits in the trafficking of migrants across the U.S-Mexico border, their criminal range is extensive.

Here are some ways where the cartels have extended their reach:

Fuel theft

Fuel theft, known as huachicoleo in Mexico, is a highly profitable activity for organized crime groups. In the first nine months of 2022, Mexico's state-owned oil company, Pemex, lost $730 million from illegal pipeline taps.

Cartels in Mexico have developed a sophisticated approach to fuel theft, which involves corruption, precision and violence.

This includes tactics such as bribing Pemex employees and local officials for information, drilling precise illegal taps into pipelines, and using modified tanker trucks to transport stolen fuel for distribution in black market networks.

Several cartels are involved in this criminal activity. For instance, the Santa Rosa de Lima Cartel, led by Jose Antonio Yepez, also known as El Marro, established its dominance through fuel theft before entering into drug trafficking.

Additionally, CJNG and the Gulf Cartel are also linked to fuel theft, which supports their criminal activities.

Avocados

Mexico's multibillion-dollar avocado industry, which continues to break records for exports every year, has also been one of the main targets for drug cartels.

Avocados are known as “green gold” in Mexico, and the country has become the world’s largest producer of the popular fruit.

But as growers’ fortunes have risen, they have faced increasing threats from drug cartels seeking a share of the profits.

In Michoacán, the only state authorized to export the fruit to the U.S., CJNG and local gangs demand payments from farmers, often referred to as "protection fees."

These fees can range from $135 to $500 per hectare monthly, depending on the size of the farm and the level of perceived threat.

The extortion process begins with cartels identifying and targeting profitable farms. Armed cartel members then approach the farmers, issuing threats of violence or property damage if the farmers refuse to comply.

In February 2022, the U.S. suspended avocado imports from Mexico after a U.S. official received a death threat while working in Uruapan.

The imports resumed a week later following new safety measures applied by Mexico’s government in the region.

Two years later, locals say the situation hasn’t changed much, and avocado growers continue to deal with criminal organizations in the area.

Tortillas

The average Mexican consumes about 70 kilograms of tortillas annually, according to the Mexican Agriculture Ministry. It is a staple in Mexican cuisine, which is why cartels have decided to profit from it.

Extortion from cartels affects nearly 20,000 tortillerías, directly impacting the prices paid by Mexicans.

According to the National Tortilla Council, in an interview with The Washington Post, out of more than 130,000 tortillerías in the country, between 14 to 15% percent suffer from extortion.

Homero López García, the organization's president, told El Sol de México that establishments must pay between $135 and $190 weekly to multiple criminal groups to continue operating.

"Well, look, nothing surprises me anymore," Saucedo, the security analyst, said about cartels extorting tortillerías. "Perhaps it's a somewhat insensitive and cynical posture from me, but the truth is that I remain open to all possibilities in this regard."

Chicken

In a video posted on social media two days before Christmas 2023, an armed group was seen arriving at a poultry shop in Toluca, Mexico, kidnapping four workers and putting them into a white van.

The Mexico state prosecutor's office said the victims were retailers who were forced to buy chicken in some establishments. Likewise, they had to pay a fee of $2.50 per kilo in exchange for not getting killed by the Familia Michoacana cartel.

Authorities said as a result of their efforts to combat extortion, the criminal groups La Familia Michoacana and CJNG lost over $43 million from threatening poultry and egg vendors in municipalities of the Toluca Valley and the southern part of the state.

The state prosecutor's office said in 2023 alone, they received 4,010 complaints for this crime, of which they determined that only one in four was made in person, with the rest being indirect through phone calls, social media, and emails.

Three months later, the four workers kidnapped in December were found alive, and four perpetrators were detained, but those behind the abductions remain on the loose and the extortion of poultry vendors continues, officials said.

'Piso' fee

"They were asking me for $600 monthly for cobro de piso; we reported it, and we had to close for a month," Guillermo, a businessman in downtown Mexico City, told local media, recalling the extortion from the cartel.

The cobro de piso, which is the fee cartels charge business owners in exchange for "protection," has been the main problem for merchants in Mexico City.

"The first group of affected businesses are restaurants, followed by convenience stores in second place, and then jewelry stores in third place," said Jose de Jesus Rodriguez, president of Mexico City’s Chamber of Commerce.

In the past few years, extortions have been on the rise. Depending on the areas, some establishments would receive calls, emails, or in-person visits from armed men asking for the cartel's fee.

"They have tried several times, it's through calls," restaurant owner Israel Zavala told Mexican media. "The trust in the authorities isn't very high; complaints have been filed, but they don't proceed."

Analyst Saucedo said the problem with the metrics is that we have never had access to their accounting books.

“We will never have the total amount of the taxable fee because many do not report it to the authorities.”

In Mexico City, there are many criminal organizations involved in activities such as drug dealing, but also charging extortion fees to small business owners like tortilla shops, street vendors, and taxi drivers.

"Since Mexico City is a densely populated area, and we have a very large informal economy, many people are unfortunately susceptible to paying protection money. Consequently, it is a profitable activity for the local mafias," Saucedo said.

 "Besides paying an official tax to come to work, you have to pay another one to them," Angel Campos, a vendor at a street market in Mexico City, said.

[nasa]

Comin’ in Hot: Seven Things to Know About our New Heat Shield

What goes up, must come down, and from space, without burning up in an atmosphere. That’s why we’re pumped for the Low-Earth Orbit Flight Test of an Inflatable Decelerator, or LOFTID. Launching on Nov. 1, 2022, with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) Joint Polar Orbiting Satellite System-2 (JPSS-2) mission, this technology demonstration marks the next step in advancing an innovative heat shield design that could one day be used to land heavy payloads – including humans – on Mars!

Here are seven things to know about this innovative re-entry system: 

1. LOFTID is the first-ever in-orbit test of this technology. 

Inflatable heat shields, called Hypersonic Inflatable Aerodynamic Decelerators (HIADs), have been in the works for more than a decade. In 2012, the third of the Inflatable Re-entry Vehicle Experiments (IRVE) launched on a suborbital sounding rocket from the Wallops Flight Facility, demonstrating a 3-meter (10-foot) diameter inflatable heat shield.

But the LOFTID re-entry vehicle, at 19.7 feet (6 meters) in diameter, will be the largest blunt body aeroshell to ever go through atmospheric entry. Designed to withstand temperatures as high as 2900°F (1600°C), this first-ever in-orbit test of this technology will prove if it can successfully slow down large payloads – such as crewed spacecraft, robotic explorers, and rocket components – enabling them to survive the heat of re-entry at planetary destinations with an atmosphere.

2. You can find out how this tech works in real-time.  

LOFTID is unique in that all operations will happen within a few hours of launch. After the JPSS-2 satellite safely reaches orbit, the LOFTID vehicle will separate from the upper stage of the Atlas V rocket and begin re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere. If all goes as planned, the technology will help the vehicle decelerate from hypersonic (more than 25 times faster than the speed of sound) down to subsonic flight, less than 609 miles per hour for a safe splash down and recovery from the Pacific Ocean. 

While in flight, engineers at NASA’s Langley Research Center will receive location data every 20 seconds and onboard sensors and cameras will record more comprehensive data about the technology’s performance. You can get a behind-the-scenes look at Langley’s Flight Mission Support Center where the LOFTID project team will be monitoring the flight test at NASA.gov/live following the launch.

3. A lemon-sized capsule ejected into the Pacific Ocean will hold key flight data. 

The LOFTID re-entry vehicle will record both sensor and camera data during its flight. The data will include the temperatures and pressures experienced by the heat shield and will illustrate how well the technology performed during the demonstration.

Although the goal is to retrieve the LOFTID re-entry vehicle after it splashes down in the Pacific Ocean, the team wanted a back-up option just in case they can’t recover it. Enter the tiny yellow package called an ejectable data module (EDM) which will also record flight data. The EDM will be released from the spacecraft at an altitude of about 50,000 feet. It will free fall into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Hawaii and should land within 10 miles of the spacecraft’s splash down location. A recovery team, that has practiced hide-and-seek of the EDM on land and sea, will use GPS to search an approximately 900-mile area of the Pacific Ocean to find their “lemon.”

4. This heat shield packs a punch. 

Although NASA has historically relied on rigid aeroshells, parachutes, and retro-propulsion (rockets) to decelerate people, vehicles, and hardware during entry, descent, and landing operations, a benefit of inflatable heat shields is that they take up less space in a rocket, allowing more room for other hardware or payloads. LOFTID’s aeroshell has been folded and tightly packed down to 4 by 1.5 feet for launch and stacked in the United Launch Alliance (ULA) Atlas V rocket payload fairing.

5. LOFTID is dedicated in honor of one of its innovators.  

LOFTID was developed as a partnership with ULA and is dedicated to the memory of Bernard Kutter, ULA manager of advanced programs, who passed away in August 2020. Kutter was instrumental in advancing the inflatable heat shield design and developing the plan to test the system on an Atlas V rocket. He was an advocate for both space technology and expanding access to space. Kutter’s NASA and ULA counterparts agree that LOFTID is unlikely to have made it to space without his vision and passion.

6. LOFTID is made of tough stuff. 

Synthetic fibers make up the inflatable structure, braided into tubes that are, by weight, 10 times stronger than steel. The tubes are coiled so that they form the shape of a blunt cone when inflated. The thermal protection system that covers the inflatable structure can survive searing entry temperatures up to 2,900 degrees Fahrenheit. Researchers used the same heat-shielding materials to create a fire shelter prototype for firefighters battling forest fires.

7. You can make your own LOFTID Halloween costume! 

Still looking for an out-of-this world Halloween costume? With a few commonly found materials, like orange pool noodles and duct tape, you can create your own LOFTID costume. However, we make no promises of protecting or slowing you down from becoming the life of the party.

Follow @NASA_Technology for the latest updates on LOFTID. Don’t miss our live coverage leading up to launch from the Vandenberg Space Force Base in California. The NASA Edge JPSS-2 Tower Rollback Show airs live on NASA TV and YouTube on Tuesday, Nov. 1 at 12 a.m. EDT, and NASA TV live launch coverage will begin at 4:45 a.m. EDT. 

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!