#airlock lids

[jazzeria]

Ok so.

I wanted to drill some holes in mason jar lids so they could fit an airlock. But I was uncertain of whether the drill bits we already own would be able to handle the job. So my partner gave it a try. He tore up the the hole's edges, but proved that the drill bit could, technically, put a hole in the lid.

I tried it myself and managed to get a comparatively smooth hole! I gave it a few passes with a reaming pen to try to smooth out the edges. But I didn't want to do too much, lest it take off too much material.

The cut edges were still uncomfortably sharp, and the metal lid is thin enough that the silicone grommet doesn't make an airtight seal. So I also went around the edges with glue gun.

Ok?

Ok.

*deep breath*

My hole is prettier than my partner's hole. Tighter, too.

Reaming my hole widened it.

So I rimmed it to ensure a snugger fit.

[briarpatch-kids]

How did you make the alcoholic ginger beer? It looks super cool!

Okay so brewing is actually WAY less difficult than you'd think. We boiled 5 gallons of water with ginger, cream of tartar, and brown sugar. Let it cool, then dumped it in a 5 gallon bucket pitched in a packet of Ale Yeast (you get it from brew shops or online. Its a different type than bread yeast. Bread yeast makes prison hooch and it's not very good) and then we stuck the lid on the bucket with an air lock that had a little bit of bleach water in it. Some people use a bottle and a balloon with a pinprick in it instead of a bucket plus airlock. Then we waited until the air lock bubbling slowed down (we did 15 seconds between bubbles) and bottled it.

I used this recipe from Buhner's Sacred and Herbal Healing Beers. It's more of a reference book than a recipe book (some of the more unusual recipes are poisonous or purgative or just yucky tasting) but it also talks about just about every kind of beer or alcohol you can think of and talks about how it's made. Its really good for getting a handle on how homebrew is less of an exact science and more of a "make a tasty sugar liquid, turn a tasty sugar liquid into less sugary booze" cooking art.

[doggiewoggiez]

Recently I've been getting into browsing r/PrisonHooch and seeing the awful brews people are coming up with. So I decided to make one of my own.

The Ranch Style Hooch

Recipe:

2 cans Ranch Style Beans (with Jalapeños!)

2 cups sugar

1 gallon spring water

0.25 tsp amylase enzyme

1 packet Lalvin EC-1118 yeast

Dumped the cans into a pot, filled them with water to get the residue, added to the pot. Then filled the cans again and dumped them down the sink (need to discard some water to make room for the beans), and dumped an additional 2 cups (for the sugar volume). Added most of remaining water to the pot, mixed in amylase enzyme and mashed the beans to get the enzyme nice and incorporated. This converts the starch to maltose (a sugar the yeast can use). Brought to a boil and added sugar, cooled in the fridge until it went under 100°F. Rehydrated a packet of yeast in the last remaining pure water, added the sugary bean soup, mixed well. Drilled a hole in the lid of the jug to add an airlock, so CO2 can escape and air can't get in. I tasted the beans before they went in and it tasted like a fancy bbq sauce... Shockingly good, malty taste.

Now to let this ferment for a few weeks. I'll post updates occasionally.

[kybercrystals94]

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Master List

(Finally compiling all of my Summer of Bad Batch 2024 fills into one place 🙈)

I am thrilled to be an overachiever, filling 28/28 prompts this summer for the event I had the privilege of facilitating, @summer-of-bad-batch 🥰 and I am proud to have worked alongside so many amazing creators this summer to fill prompts in so many unique ways!

Find my list of fills below the cut!

Neon Warfare

Prompts Filled: Week 1 | Main: Water Gun Fight | Alt: "It's not what you think."

Excerpt:

"C'mon, Echo," Wrecker whines, making a grabbing motion with his outstretched hand. "It's water. It's not like it's gonna hurt them." The manchild does have a point. Echo sighs. "Fine. But so help me, you shoot me again with this thing, I'll send it out the airlock."

Eyes Wide Open

Prompts Filled: Week 2 | Alt: Comfort Zone

Excerpt:

"Did you know," Crosshair says, conversationally, "that Hunter sleeps with his eyes open?"

Might

Prompts Filled: Week 2 | Main: Injured

Excerpt:

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so intensely, why it feels like an abrasive lapse of memory. He’d seen Echo deal with the same, exact issue as he acclimated to the loss of his own limbs after his rescue from Skako Minor. He’d never thought Echo ridiculous or idiotic for it. In fact, he’d admired the reg’s tenacity, how quickly he corrected and adapted. And yet, here is Crosshair, refusing a cup of caf because he used the wrong hand to claim it. 

A Dangerous Dance

Prompts Filled: Week 3 | Main: "It's just a scratch."

Excerpt:

The Mandalorian trainer pulls a knife from the sheath strapped around his vambrace, and twirls the short blade deftly between his fingers. The man isn’t even looking at the weapon, his eyes following the movements of his sparring clone cadets. If he notices the shaggy headed cadet unabashedly watching him in the far corner, he doesn’t give any indication. 

Anything

Prompts Filled: Week 3 | Alt: "Forget I asked." | Bonus Alternate Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

Excerpt:

Crosshair wakes to a snuffling sound, and turns over to find his sister standing next to his bed.. “Omega? What’s wrong?” “I got sick,” Omega mutters, and her breath trembles. She’s crying, softly, quietly. Crosshair reaches over and clicks on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow of light. But the warmth does not extend to Omega’s face, her skin pale and eyes red rimmed. She blinks rapidly, and a tear escapes, creating another shiny track down her ashen cheek. She does not look well at all. Of all the times for Hunter and Wrecker to be gone on a supply trip for the island. 

Cadets (Artwork)

Prompts Filled: Week 4 | Main: Cadets

Stolen Time

Prompts Filled: Week 4 | Alt: "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Excerpt:

He breaks the surface of consciousness with a breathless gasp. When he moves to sit up, a weight on each of his shoulders holds him back. A soothing voice speaks incomprehensibly and close, warm breath on his face. Tech continues to choke down gulps of air, his lungs greedily accepting the panicked doses. Words begin to take shape in the voice above him, and he hears his name, spoken so softly and gently that Tech knows that the speaker loves him. But he doesn’t recognize the voice, although his mind feels thick and muddled. Perhaps he simply cannot remember. 

Local Flavors

Prompts Filled: Week 5 | Main: "You're a bad liar." | Alt: "Need a hand?"

Excerpt:

Crosshair plucks one of the bottles from the basket, holds it up and shakes it. “What the kriff is this stuff?” “Seasoning,” Hunter says. “For cooking.” Crosshair manages to screw off the lid one handed, sniffing at the contents suspiciously. He makes a face. “I do not want this on my food.” Hunter snatches it away from him. “You wouldn’t know good flavor if it bit you in the shebs,” Hunter says.

Letting Go

Prompts Filled: Week 6 | Main: Battle Scars

Excerpt:

Crosshair sits down next to Hunter on the sand. “Omega told me what happened.” “I’m sure she did,” Hunter says. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he does not try to take it back. It seems that age has worn down the barriers of his emotions, bitterness and hurt leaking through. “She said you were being unreasonable, overbearing, and overprotective,” Crosshair continues. “Not to mention your listening skills need some work, because you only care about your side of the argument.” Hunter’s frown deepens. “Good to know.” “And I said,” Crosshair goes on, as though Hunter hadn’t spoken, “the same thing I said way back when she was only about this big.” He holds out a hand to demonstrate. Hunter rolls his eyes, because they never knew Omega when she was that small, but he gets the point. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?” 

A Tiny, Unfamiliar Voice

Prompts Filled: Week 8 | Alt: Lula

Excerpt:

“Are you awake?” a tiny voice whispers. A tiny, young, unfamiliar voice. Wrecker groans. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to wake up. Not yet. He feels floaty and heavy all at once. And painless. He’s contentedly numb. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt no pain at all, not in his muscles or his head or his heart…he doesn’t want it to end.

Treacherous Waters

Prompts Filled: Week 6 | Alt: "Get out of my room!" | Week 7 | Main: "Don't avoid the question." | Alt: Getting a Haircut

Excerpt:

Crosshair knows he should be relieved, but somehow he’s tread into more treacherous waters.

Racket

Prompts Filled: Week 8 | Main: Swimming Lessons

Excerpt:

"Oh, look, a little lab scrabber,” Racket sneers when Omega walks into the infirmary with AZI. Omega ignores him, keeping her pace to show she doesn’t care. However, AZI stops to look at the clone sitting on the edge of a medical cot holding an ice pack to a developing black eye. “I must correct you, CT-1051811. Omega is not a lab scrabber. She is a medical assistant.”

Too Young To Grow Up (Drabbles Collection)

Prompts Filled: Week 9 | Main: "Hold still." | Alt: Stargazing | Week 10 | Main: Hugs | Week 11 | Alt: "Yeah, kid, we're fine." | Week 13 | Alt: Crashing Hard

Excerpt:

Moments and memories of Omega growing up on Pabu.

Threat

Prompts Filled: Week 10 | Alt: "Just when were you planning on telling us that?" | Week 11 | Main: "I didn't think I would get this far."

Excerpt:

“Just when were you planning on telling me that you were building a battle droid?”

Nightmares and Demons

Prompts Filled: Bonus Alternate Prompt: Light in the Darkness | Week 12 | Main: Nightmares | Alt: Radio Silence | Week 13: "Stop touching me!" // "I'm not touching you!"

Excerpt:

The girl came again. She knows his name. Speaks with a familiarity he craves. She tells him they are coming. Their brothers. Their brothers are coming. It is only a matter of time. He believes her. He has to believe her. If he doesn’t, he has nothing. Nothing but the poison that the Empire has leached into him. Needles and torture and endless, endless pain. Her promise, void and empty as it is, is like a light in the inky, consuming darkness. A fragile, flickering flame on the end of a match. It burns close to his finger tips, but he won’t let it go.

[calystarose]

Apple Cranberry Juice Mead (Cyser?) 64oz Langers Apple Cranberry juice 1.5lbs honey 1.5lbs turbanado sugar Warm water to melt sugar and honey (maybe 3 cups?) 1/2 pack k1-v1116 (hydrated & showed life) 20g fermaid o @ 24 & 48 (still to do)

I was absolutely going to make a basic mead next, but then we got this bottle of juice in and I'm like, ooh it has no extra ingredients, bet this would be yummy. So I used up the rest of my Ambrosia honey and most of the rest of my bag of sugar because I'm hoping this will come out sweet.

Last night I didn't have the lid on securely, but it was foamy in the fermenter so that was probably good. I secured it this morning and the airlock started bubbling away immediately.

Wish me luck!

[rowanjasper]

First time trying to make kimchi! This is a Ball branded mason jar accessory that is a spring+airlock lid that keeps the kimchi pressed down under the juices as well as letting it "burp" the fermentation gasses so the jar doesnt explode.

Hopefully by the time we finish these jars we will have fresh napa cabbages to preserve!

[clatterbane]

The yeast is really starting to take off in that ginger-lemon cider (just apple and essentially golden syrup at this point).

And, very much unlike the raspberry dried fruit batch to its left? Thankfully, the lid on this smaller jar actually seems to have a decent seal. The airlock is really starting to bubble now.

[kharonite]

Twitch sits cross legged atop Shockwave’s shoulder, a silent fluttering to her rotor blades as she watches him work with clear interest. It reminds her, in part, of watching her sibling work.

Though she silently admits Shockwave is more precise with his work— if her assumption is correct.

“What’s that?” Twitch’s voice is a little bit loud, if not all too sudden. She’s been practically shaking to keep herself quiet for the past few minutes, but her curiosity’s won over.

In truth, Shockwave wouldn't mind if the little Terran were the chatty sort; nothing short of a concentrated attack against his person can distract him from his research, and even then, he is more than capable of continuing to work under pressure. Having a youngling perched on his shoulder does not compare to remaining at his station while under repeated volleys of blaster-fire.

He transforms his gun-arm into a four-digit manipulator, unclasping the lid of a heavy black case to remove an odd-looking capsule from amongst his many instruments. Sealed at both ends by an intricate mechanical airlock, its contents are almost beautiful: a swirling cocktail of gases cast in deep blue-and-violet. It's then that Twitch finally speaks, and he tilts his head to watch her in his peripheral vision.

"This is a replicant population of Argon Sea phytotrophics, a species now extinct on Cybertron." He holds the capsule up for her to examine. The microscopic creatures within are invisible to standard optics, but their movements are what stir their gaseous habitat. "Can you describe to me what a keystone species is, Twitch Malto?"

[hungersauce]

boring holes into plastic spice containers and pickle jar lids with a knife and using the hollow straw of a pride flag pole to make an airlock like a fucking maniac

[pandorafallz]

Vampire AU | Redistribution of goods

Jake groaned a little as he woke, taking a second to adjust to…comprehend the squishiness of his mattress to recall that… he didn’t get out of the link bed to sleep but the machine wasn’t making any noise.

Cracking an eye open, the lid was up and he could see the emergency button was down. He vaguely recalled unlinking so he was certain that was all him in a sleep-deprived state. Still, he’d need to get it working if he had to link up today.

He sat up slowly, pulling his chair back to the edge slumped out slowly and rolled away to take care of his bio needs. Jake woke more after his toilet break, a quick wipe down for now since he had no plans to shower yet and opted to shave the growing stubble on his face. He was almost done when he heard the airlock hiss and open suddenly.

“Hello?” He called. It wasn’t Morgan, he was in the mountains still with Nadine. Could it be—

There was a thump and a ‘Ow.”

Jake relaxed as he recognised the sound, washed his smooth cheeks, pulled on a shirt and wheeled out of the little bathroom to see N’deh half in the doorway from the airlock looking very uncomfortable.

“You okay? Stuck?”

“Neytiri made coming in look far easier,” N’deh complained, but in his hands, he held up a wrap and a cup. “Breakfast, since you no doubt want to link back as soon as possible.”

Jake smiled warmly. “Thank you. I… I was just gonna eat a granola bar and link up…”

“Bah,” N’deh scoffed, “I’ve seen those human-made things. Granola bars don’t give you all the nutrition you need, even in a resting state. I made you a tea to help with mental fatigue, used for hunters for late nights.” He said, waving the cup. “It’s warm so it’s at its best but it can be quite strong, so you may struggle to sleep later until it wears off.”

Jake accepted the food and set it onto his lap, being extra careful with the cup and he took a careful sniff of the small, mouthful of liquid at the bottom that looked like a milky tea.

The scent had a robust sour tang but there was a fresh earthy undertone with a complimentary watery fruity smell. It made his eyes water a little. “Wow, that’s strong.”

“A mouthful should suffice. I’d rather not give you any nerve shakes or overexcite your heart.” N’deh explained. “Food first and then the drink so you digest it a little slower.”

“Got it, thanks.”

N’deh wiggled backwards into the airlock, cracking his head again before he pulled the door in with him and left Jake to his breakfast. Unwrapping the leaf to see what was in the food wrap, Jake was met with the warm tender meat of Nantang, smoked vegetables and a side of crudely made pasta curled around with a light, thick sauce that made his mouth water so he wrapped it all back up to ear, leaf included like a burrito and was met with the rich, warm flavour of tender meat with a peppery smooth sauce which only added to the wonderful smoky aftertaste of the veg and the smooth texture of the pasta.

He was left wanting more but his belly was full. At the drink, he opted to down it like a shot and boy, did the effect kick in almost immediately.

“Wow!” the sleep that had been lingering in the back of his mind was all but wiped away. It felt like he was running on coffee all night. Thankfully, he wasn’t shaking as he returned to his link bed, pulling the emergency button up and re-established the link-bed settings to on before he clambered up into the bed and closed the lid.

Waking up in his avatar, he felt… wide awake. Not as jump-started as his human body but he could feel… his mind wasn’t sluggish or slow as he expected it to be from a short rest period. Even his avatar body felt fully awake too. What was that stuff?

Jake pondered that as he roused from his makeshift hammock, glad for one he wasn’t the only person still resting but he was the last Dreamwalker, it seemed so he stretched, cracked a joint and padded out of the tent.

Outside, he was met with a lot more humans about still, despite those still asleep but they looked busy as they were emptying out the shacks. Bree was directing people with stuff to different piles, except, she wasn’t alone. Mo’at of all people seemed to be about and observing their work as she sipped some tea. Neytiri looked to be helping and talking with some of the miners as she moved the larger pieces of furniture the humans were struggling with.

The Dreamwalkers looked to be leaning against the shacks and sorting out crates or removing support of the upper cargo storage on top of the shacks. Zane looked busy discussing with Morgan with some paint, most likely going over ways of dismantling them.

He watched with a smile though he was…glad to see how functional they were working to get the shacks emptied and prepped. There were a few with a spray paint dash against one of the airlocks which he assumed were the ones claimed to be cut up for the miners.

“Data banks go into that far tent, we’ll have to screen those first. We’ll dedicate an entire link-shack to data management once everything is sorted so we don’t lose any valuable data once we clear them for personal camp use. RDA may be assholes but the SciOps data is valuable and might stop us doing stupid shit.” Bree was saying.

“Language,” Kung called, heaving what looked like a massive crate of copper wires to the wire pile of crates.

“I’ve heard worse from you, mother,” Bree said causally but didn’t break her role as she thumbed through her tablet. “Jake, nice to see you.” She called, noting his appearance.

“All going well?” Jake asked.

“Very.” Bree grinned happily, “Almost all the shacks are cleared. Once that’s done, we’re gonna have breakfast and start indexing everything. Then after that, we’re splitting stuff off for each camp.”

“What shall I start with?”

“You can take over from me with site management, I want to start getting food ready with Nad. I’ve been telling Mo’at about what we’re gonna have and I think she should try some human-style food.”

Jake perked up a little, “more of those sausages?”

“Of course.”

“Na’vi friendly sausages?”

“Yes. Figured if Neytiri showed up, she’d not want to burn her mouth. I was given some herbs that give spice but not containing any capsaicin. Turns out the cooks have a lot of know-how when I asked.” Bree said, handing him the tablet. “I thought Na’vi food would have otherwise been plain but… it’s nice to be wrong. We’re gonna have sausages, flatbread, or Viperwolf ravioli with a creamy plant sauce. Both, if you’re that hungry but plenty to go around.”

“Sounds good.”

In all honesty, he hadn’t considered that the Na’vi had variants of spices without the pain elements. He just thought they had fewer flavours and alternatives. Bree disappeared off without another word and that’s when Jake noticed the huge, fluffy bunny slippers that the girl had as she walked off.

Mo’at chuckled softly, inhaling the vapours of her cup.

“So, here for observation?” Jake asked the Tsahìk.

“Most part, yes. I was curious to see how your people organise and redistribute your…stolen hordes. Seeing you outside of Na’vi influence like Hometree that isn’t your camps, it’s fascinating to watch you work as one” Mo’at explained, “I do not often see that.”

Jake pondered her perspective for a moment. Made sense, he supposed if she worried if their bigger numbers would devolve their community if they had conflicting interests. Like SciOps vs SecOps, which he assumed was what she was aware of from the RDA and referring to. He had to remember that she was not privy to their discussions prior to the shack-stealing and agreements. This, they all, were humans out of the RDA’s culture. They were still adapting and Mo’at was taking front-row seats with popcorn—or tea in her case— to see how it all turned out.

Of course, it could also be that she was checking in on the cave as well, given the Na’vi’s respect for the mountains but he’d buy her excuse nonetheless. Mo’at would get to see them in their more natural behaviours and see how they did stuff.

“Is that all the kitchen tools?” Jake asked as Marcus appeared pushing a box of what looked like metal handles

“No, just pots and pans. Found about two cast iron skillets and some other cookware.”

“Okay, round up all cast-iron stuff and leave it here.” He gestured to a space in front of him “I think we’re gonna have to put to a special case of decision making if there are lots of desires.” He knew he certainly wanted some good ass cast-iron tools. Rare to be on Pandora, but rarer to find left behind in the shacks. Chances were, some supervisors must have been at one for them to have those goods to lose. Maybe Augustine before her death and conversion.

“There’s… a box of condoms that Bree has you should probably also put into special cases.”

“Sur—Wait, why does Bree have condoms?” Jake asked, frowning at the miner. “She’s a minor.”

“She said it was safe keeping from, and I quote ‘keeps the horny bastards from sneaking ahead’,” Marcus said, doing the quote gestures with his fingers. “Wise, I saw Alejandra tried to sneak some before Bree caught her and had her hand them all over with a warning that she’d miss out on them entirely if she snuck them before division.”

“Ah.” Plus, as the only 16-year-old, it was probably safest in her hands since no one was stupid enough to look at her anything less than a child. Major Kung was a hardass by nature, Kung Jr wasn’t but that didn’t mean the girl couldn’t get closer to her mother’s nature if she was moody or motivated enough.

Marcus returned to his job but began to bring the cast iron tools and kitchenware and set them down. Two skillets, a wok, a casserole dish and a grill pan were set down.

“Jake put the wok in for our camp!” Nadine called from the fire. “Please!”

“I’ll add it in for the notes,” Jake called. Five cast-iron kitchen wares, five camps, one for each camp but.. who gets what was another matter.

Other special case items were also deposited at his feet were a crossbow, two metal machetes, one avatar-sized machete, a few musical instruments like a single keyboard, a guitar, an ocarina, then there seventeen fictional books, three sketchbooks, oil paints (no brushes for some reason), a wooden shaped thing that he was told was an Inkle Loom (which Mo’at picked that up with curiosity so he let her examine it), Some sort of wooden, two-pronged fork with a hole in the middle which looked to be some sort of human weaving craft and a knife set. Then the strangest of all fucking things, a three-foot marionette, complex strings and all. Thankfully boxed up.

All in all, a wide range of stuff that wasn’t so easily shareable.

“Breakfast’s ready!” Nadine called.

There were welcome sounds as everyone finished up the last of the move-out and hurried towards the fire. Food was handed out, on leaf plates or bowls, Jake picked up both options for Mo’at first before he simply got a sausage and flatbread wrap with immense joy as the familiar taste of sausage but there was a new undertone, cooler than the hot spice he was expecting. Different herbs were probable but still just as enjoyable.

Mo’at made a curious hum at the little pasta in her bowl before she went to reach in before Jake realised something.

“Oh, wait a second. You need a fork.” Thankfully, he didn’t have to go far but he came back with a human-sized fork. “Spear the pasta with the sharp ends so you don’t burn your fingers. The pasta’s quite soft. Chances are you’ll spill it down yourself. The Sauce is often hotter than the pasta to keep it warm.” He explained. The fork size shouldn’t be too much of a hindrance but he didn’t want her to burn herself.

Mo’at eyes the fork, before her eyes swept over to see those with pasta, did indeed have a fork to eat with relative ease. Bree was eating with chopsticks but it looked like the girl genuinely enjoyed the set of cutlery over a fork. Jake wondered if it was worth getting small wooden prongs for the Na’vi to have if they were curious. Metal cutlery wouldn’t do long-term if they wanted to exchange of cultures with the Na’vi.

With a soft sigh, Mo’at carefully stabbed one of the little pasta pillows and pulled it out of the sauce. “What is this?” She asked, taking a tentative bite with a soft chew. There was some recognition as she was hit with the taste of the filing. “Nantang. Interesting choice.”

“On earth, we have pasta, it’s a type of dough that’s made from flour, egg and water that’s shaped and boiled. Italy, a land in our world is renowned for its pasta making and expertise and is a staple of their culture today.” Jake didn’t know the details more than that. Maybe they’d get an Italian defector who could shed some light on Italian life in the 22nd century. The only stuff he heard from other countries was if it was on the news, like the Bengal Tiger clone cubs in China or some counties trying to invade another for its resources.

Mo’at considered his words. “And this?”

“This particular pasta dish is called Ravioli, two pasta sheets with a savoury middle. On earth, it used to be a meat called beef but people can put cheese or veg in, depending on their diet. Beef ravioli often has a tomato sauce which… can certainly burn your mouth. I learned the hard way.” He chuckled softly, downing another few bites before he was done.

Mo’at took her time to eat through the bowl but looked relatively pleased with it nonetheless, picking the sausage but ate a little for the experience but handed off the last half to Neytiri who was all too happy to have the rest of it instead and looked to have enjoyed the first option over the pasta.

“The pasta has a weird texture but I do like the sausages more. Reminds me of a large, firmly-textured teylu.” Neytiri answered in his inquisition when she came over to eat.

“Pasta’s not for everyone. I’m glad you tried it.” Jake grinned, “It’s…nice to see Nadine try and expand.”

“Indeed, the Cooks of our clans are highly respected. To feed many mouths, it takes a lot of time and dedication to cater for those who cannot eat so freely. Some of our people cannot tolerate flour made from the tsyorina'wll plant so care is made to ensure that they are not given the wrong ingredient.”

“Tsyorina’wll flour… oh, like a wheat allergy?” Jake considered, “For humans, this happens when the immune system gets inflamed when it detects gluten in the body and tries to reject it. It can damage the gut and long-term can lead to the inability to accept nutrients.”

Mo’at nodded. “I…suppose that is a close condition but it’s possible Na’vi reactions to intolerances differ with symptoms.”

“Of course, our biology is significantly different.” He allowed.

Soon though, once breakfast was done, everyone was out and about, Jake had them start the inventory of what they had. Bree became his assistant in data gathering and with each little group with a pile, they breezed through the inventory process within the hour.

Then the division of all the first lot of goods came.

Ruby’s camp took another fridge and a freezer compartment, more scientific tools and equipment with a shelving unit. They also took a spare weapons rack but not any weapons, for the sake of repurposing it.

Kendra’s team claimed another link-shack for their camp for more personal space, and another fridge as well but only basic shelving as they had the beds they needed, they also took more tools for aiding their general living. They also took more medical supplies as well, so they were stocked up well in that regard for the resident surgeon.

Jake claimed some medical supplies to make up for those he had given to help with Harper’s recovery, some tools from Morgan’s request to aid the guy’s engineering skills. He opted for another two shelves for his and Morgan’s shack. Since Jer and Kim didn’t request anything when asked, neither did N’deh, Jake didn’t try to add something they didn’t need or want, that said, he did get a plastic slinky from the unwanted pile for N’deh for the joke of it.

Kung’s camp chose spare metal framings, a few empty crates, spare shelving hooks, some science tools and a few tarps.

The Miners got the most of what they wanted since they started with the least. Three shacks were to be cut up for their airlocks (it’d take a few days for those to actually be sorted, they got two tents, three large tarps and two small, several hundred feet of wires and rope, they took the spare bar lights, two generators that the cut-up shacks wouldn’t need (for the new airlocks and general power), solar panels, spare mask filters, metal clipping hooks, water purifier and waste disposal boxes, the women got menstrual cups (that apparently almost all females that were comfortable with them had them—Jake didn’t ask for more details). The miners also took five of the bunk bed frames, the remaining available shelving units (three remained back for storing the more delicate of supplies in one of the remaining shacks) and any spare light bulbs and fittings.

Pots and pans were shared out with camps who wanted them with a few bits and bobs.

“Now,” Jake called as the group set down, “Miners, since there’s a few of you with disabilities and have implants, I would like to point out that my camp has a 3D printer, practically functional; we just need to find or make resin for that. So, if you suffer a fault or are in dire need of replacement parts then do not hesitate to talk to our camp. We can pass any programs you need to data record any implant parts capable of replacement so you can get back to us on what’s needed. I’d recommend scanning everything you have in advance just in case.”

Alejandra nodded with a thumbs up.

“Now, we won’t go through any tablets and data drives today, they’ll be redistributed later. Since most of us all have some, that’s not much of a worry. As Bree said earlier, we will be preserving the data once it is moved from our data drives. Now, we’ll need someone technologically skilled enough and have the available time to do so.”

“I’ll do it!” Zeke called.

“Thank you, Zeke.” Jake agreed, “So, now most of the general pickings is done, now for the more…unique items that can’t be so evenly distributed. There will be multiple people wanting this stuff so we’ll have to make a compromise. First up, Condoms.”

Bree pulled out the pack from her back pocket, leaving her mother’s side to hand them over to him.

Ruby did put up her hands a little hesitantly, but Alejandra, Xanthe, and even Kung put her up for it without a second of thought. Bree’s face turned red the moment her mother’s hand shot up but Kung didn’t even look phased.

“There’s thirty-seven condoms in total, so that’s nine each and for the sake of fairness, no one gets the odd one. I’ll keep a hold of that for now so, in the event someone at my camp gets lucky.” his mind was on Morgan for that. Jake quickly split the pack up and put the last one into his side pouch for safekeeping and moved on with the rest.

The crossbow went to Kung’s camp, Major Kung wanted a better, more silent weapon at her disposal. The two metal machetes went to Ruby and Kung.

The Dreamwalker-sized machete went to Kendra’s for Ashely’s avatar.

The keyboard was argued between Zane and Marcus (who wanted it for Wei) before the former gave it up in favour of the guitar, Zeke got the ocarina and spent five minutes trying to play and breathe as the groups began to discuss the books. In the end, Jake figured he’d let the guy figure out what he needed most; air or music.

There books were:

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens (was handed off to Ruby)

Moby dick, or The White Whale, by Herman Melville (went to Alejandra)

Harry Potter, the Sorcery’s Stone (Kendra tutted about it being the American version)

Harry Potter, Prisoner of Azkaban ( Bree was quick to grab that)

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (Nadine took this one)

How to Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, (Xavier took that for Wei)

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien (Xavier wanted the book for himself)

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell (Ashely took that happily)

Coraline by Neil Gaiman, (Morgan called on that)

The Shining by Stephen King. (that was left to Jake to give it to Jerome)

The Bible (Mo’at, surprisingly, was curious to read this so there was no complaint there)

A Dance with Dragons, by George R.R Martin (Marcus called that for another absent miner)

Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin (Marcus called that for himself.

The Hunger Games By Suzan Collins (Jake took this one)

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (Xanthe wanted that)

The Fault in our Stars by John Greene (Surprisingly, Kung took that without a word)

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (Nad called that for Kim)

“I think we should swap these around camps once we’re done reading them,” Bree suggested, once everyone had their books for themselves and their camps. “That way, everyone gets to read what they want and no one hoards them exclusively.” There was a lot of agreement there. “Also, we need to find more books of the mismatching series at the very least. I’m not OCD but missing books out in a series bothers me.”

Jake chuckled a little at that but that was fair enough; only getting parts of the story that were up and down the series did sound annoying.

The three sketchbooks were handed out to Bree, Xanthe and Ruby. Oil paints also went to Ruby who was happy to take them, Bree couldn’t oil paint to save her life (according to Kung). Inkle Loom was called by Morgan who wanted to learn how to use it and show N’deh. The two-pronged wooden fork was apparently identified by Xanthe as a knitting fork or a Lucet Fork and claimed it for cord making.

Three-foot marionette remained alone. No one seemed willing to take it. Jake couldn’t agree more with why, it looked like it could have come out of Chucky or some other weird horror show.

Lastly, the cast-iron cookware.

“Now, there are five of these and five known camps so I propose we all have one for each camp but like the books, we swap them over if we’ve not used them in an entire week or month and someone else wants to use them. Now, Nadine wants the Wok at our camp for now. That leaves the two skillets, the grill pan and a casserole dish.”

“I’ll have the casserole dish!” Ashely spoke up.

“We’ll take a skillet,” Ruby said.

“I’ll take the second one,” Kung called out.

“Grill’s cool, I suppose.” Alejandra shrugged, not too committed.

Jake was internally relieved no one was gonna fight it out (probably due to the long day of sorting stuff out) so he handed them out and Nadine was all too happy to giggle with the wok. Already he could see the cogs running in her head of the opportunities this meant for her.

It was nearing late afternoon by the time they were done and everyone was packing up their designated supplies. As Neytiri returned her mother to Hometree, Jake however handed everyone a spare death whistle that Kendra had found.

“Remember, these may have a chance to save your life from unwanted wildlife. Zeke, you can check the data from Zoology to confirm but if not for the wildlife, then scaring each other is also on the table and of course this goes without saying, scaring the life out of any RDA patrols that get too close.” Jake reminded.

It was a hustle to get the three Samsons designated for trips back and forth to the camps. A portion of the Miners and those willing to stay to oversee the shack dismantlement made it easier for now.

Jake however was happy to take his return back to camp and set the supplies he could get on this trip into the camp where he was met with helping hands from Jerome and Kim. When he checked in on N’deh, Jake found him looking to be holding what looked like a bola but with only one string and weight. Was that an Ikran catcher? He hadn’t gotten to train with it just yet but he heard Ashely was working with it with Tsu’tey.

“Hey, N’deh, you okay?”

N’deh looked up sharply, his ears tilting up in surprise, drawing the bola to his chest quickly. “Yes, yes.” He quickly began to roll it up. “Sorry, it’s been a quiet day. Didn’t hear anyone come back.”

Jake frowned at his campmate in concern. “You thinking about getting a new Ikran?”

N’deh gave a pause at that. “Eytukan had denied me passage to the mountains but I’ll ask again when I next go to Hometree.”

Jake winced, “I don’t think his answer will change, bud.”

“He cannot deny me an Ikran without dew cause. He had none against me. I will accept his unwillingness to allow me to the mountains but there are other rookeries that I can access. Either he can allow me to the mountains with supervision or he will simply tolerate the Ikran from a foreign rookery. It is a choice I will offer him.”

Jake blinked at the man’s outward thinking. That… was an unexpected loophole that he was sure the chief wouldn’t like but like it or not, it was sound from what he knew of the Omatikaya’s rites Neytiri had been teaching him. There was no good reason for Eytukan to deny N’deh and Ikran, even with their agreement. N’deh left the clan with an Ikran without worry and concern and had the right to have a new one. But going to the mountains, too close to Augustine… Eytukan was right to be wary. What if on his first flight, N’deh saw it? Saw her?

“I…wish I could say something but… I have less sway to convince him than you do. I’m respected but we’re still aliens.” He decided to say, to not lie to the guy about it. “Why not try and still offer a compromise? Ashely’s due to get her Ikran soon so it’s a good chance to offer a time of a supervised trip.”

N’deh’s head cocked to the side. “I will…consider it.”

Jake nodded awkwardly before an idea came to mind. “Would you like to hear a scary sound?” He offered, pulling out the while, “I’m gonna use it to terrify Tsu’tey for a second tomorrow.”

N’deh eyed it curiously and nodded.

With a grin took a deep breath and blew hard and boy, N’deh’s reaction was funny. The Na’vi jumped to his feet in alarm, jaw-dropping, tail up and his ears raised. Jake tapered off early in his laughter, struggling to maintain his balance so he lent his weight into the side of the mauri.

“<That is horrifying>!” the Na’vi more or less hissed, “<oh, that sound went straight up my spine! Oh, Eywa…” his hand came to his chest.

“Sully!” Kim’s voice was sharp and annoyed, “No! Not again!”

Jake sheepishly stuck his head out of the mauri and waved. “Just testing it out!”

Kim looked ready to climb up and slap him. “You woke my babies up!” her hands were pressed to the bump. “They’ve been kicking each other, my organs and my spine on-off all day. They finally fell into a sleep cycle in there!”

Jake offered an apologetic look. “Sorry.” There was a pause. “Wait, why did you assume it was me?”

“Because Nadine and Morgan have more brain cells than you.”

“Ouch.” Jake feigned hurt as he slipped down from the mauri, N’deh leaned out but didn’t follow him down straight away. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve caused you a lot of…discomfort but the science lot think these whistles are useful to scare off wildlife. Zeke will find out when he looks into the research. If that’s true, we have a non-violent way to get rid of Viperwolves.”

Kim fixed him with a hard stare, only heightened by how her eyes looked far brighter with her body paint covering her eyebrows and how now intimidating it made her appear.

“maybe it could be something you could incorporate into our apparent clan?” N’deh suggested, finally coming down with a new sense of curiosity as he took the whistle to examine it, of rouse knowing better than to blow it in front of the seething pregnant woman. “If the story is that your clan travelled, it makes sense that you have more passive means of defence?”

“Think that could work?” Jake asked in surprise. He hadn’t considered that.

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t if it does scare Viperwolves away. They tend to fear something bigger than them in immense and immediate pain; it gives the impression that there’s a bigger predator about that could eat them.” N’deh explained, “You probably won’t scare a Palulukan but anything less than that, you have a chance.”

“Huh…” Jake eyed it carefully. “Then we definitely need to remodel these. Maybe… I could make something like this out of bones? I think one shaped like a Palulukan or a Nantang would look badass.”

“What is the English name for this?” N’deh asked.

“Aztec Death Whistle. Aztec is an ancient culture that no longer exists now but these whistles were a major part of their culture in terms of war far, ritualised killing and afterlife beliefs.” Kim explained, taking a few calming breaths, and patting the side of her belly. “We’re not calling them death whistles. Maybe… zìmawng fwefwi?”

Jake frowned a little at the wording. If he wasn’t incorrect, that roughly translated to Scream Whistles. Not an incorrect statement but it sounded very cobbled together, even with his new understanding of Na’vi languages.

“Hm, that sounds okay. A bit irregular.” Jake pointed out. “N’deh, Ideas?”

“Zawɾ’fwefwi. Animal cry Whistle. Mundane, doesn’t sound threatening and sounds a purpose. These whistles should be…honoured in that fashion if you are to make it part of our clan.”

“Our?”

“Err…” N’deh looked a little worried at the soft question bfore colour seeped into his cheeks and ears “<Well, as I am cast out officially as Omatikaya, I have no clan to be part of but… I would wish to have yours to be part of, real or not.>”

“Of course, you are welcome to dress as we do and add to what we may be known to be.” Kim reached forward and touched N’deh’s arm for comfort. “We’re family, at this point. My children will no doubt bear our paint and clothes.”

N’deh relaxed considerably, “<T-Thank you. I… I wanted to ask but felt a little nervous about it. I made myself a loincloth to match but didn’t know if—>“

“Wonderful.” Kim interrupted, “Go, and put it on. I’d love to see it.”

N’deh nodded and hastily made way his way up the netting and into his mauri.

Jake watched the curtain drop fondly before Nadine came yawning from the woods with Morgan behind her.

“how's the Samson?” Jake turned, “All good?”

“All hidden away. Put our stuff away yet?”

“Nope.”

Nadine looked pouty but Morgan happily took the crates to put them into their storage shelves as they were and pulled one small one with him and set it onto his hip to take up to his shack. The pilot just peeled off her jumpsuit and shoes and happily stood in her underwear and a tank top with the late afternoon sun bouncing off her prostheses and mask.

“I’m gonna shower.” She decided abruptly.

“Oh, one thing.” Jake had a small idea as he pulled out the single condom from his pouch and crossed the space knelt with his back to Kim for some privacy and held it out.

The Sarge looked at it, then at him with a considering frown on her face. “You…offering to bang, Jake?” She still took it, twirling it between her fingers.

Jake snorted, “No, although it’s a nice thought. But no. I know Morgan likes you and I know you like him otherwise you wouldn’t tease him with your breasts at every opportunity you’re not yet sexually attracted to him yet but.. when you’re ready why not give this to him, or someone you want to bang to let them know you’re ready for sex?”

Nadine blinked in surprise, looking at the little packet in surprise. “Huh, I had no idea you had the brain cells to think of this. Took us being stuck together for weeks and a bottle of whiskey to get you into bed.” She considered it, “You’re not wrong, he is hot… I bet we’d have the greatest fuck-time ever but waiting for my engines to kick in and realise what’s available to me is so annoying when I see him there waiting for me.”

“That’s probably the one downside of Demisexuality.” He chuckled.

Nadine let out an agreed huff, stuffing the condom into her Bra then collected together her things and headed to their shack.

Jake’s attention turned as N’deh made himself know, coming down in his new loincloth.

N’deh has chosen a dark, Navy-blue cloth as his main colour, accented with light embroidery of what looked like… an Ikran skin pattern that was done in a mixture of lighter blues like blueberry and indigo but there were also linings of burnt orange that were also accented with a stone grey. Colours, Jake realised no doubt belonged to his deceased Ikran. His way of honouring his fallen companion. He had his songcord tucked into his waistband and his own hip pouches but they were still beautifully crafted.

N’deh also wore his cummerbund but it looked like he had ready-made a start on adding new colours to it, to make it look more unique but retaining some Omatikaya heritage to the piece—he wasn’t ridding himself of the past but adding to it. his knife was at his other hip but across his chest was the string of his sling. Around his neck he wore a thick, new woven choker it was nearly black with blue threading and three large talons set to rest across his collarbone.

“<I want to…add a headpiece and a shoulder pad but that’ll take time.>” N’deh commented, a little nervously. “<I’ve got the materials for it.>”

“You look wonderful,” Kim praised, walking around him to take in his new attire. “Will you take on paints as well?”

“Yes, but not tonight. Not sure about my hair but there’s plenty of time to decide.” He ran a hand through his braids cautiously.

“You don’t have to copy everything we have. You’re still welcome to personalise your looks without comparisons or compromise.” Jake answered, “You’re still you.” He took in a heavy breath. “I need to set this body down. My human body’s going to be complaining. I haven’t fed it since this morning.”

“Oh, that reminds me, how did you like the tea? Did it work well?” N’deh asked curiously.

“Very well.” Jake chuckled. “I think it’s worn off now so I’m probably good. How did you know it would work with Dreamwalkers?”

N’deh chucked softly, “<I didn’t know at first but I learned that certain herbs have effects that go beyond the body. Spiritual damage requires spiritual healing. Meditation with Eywa can often require a special tea to promote connection. Artsut, Tsu’tey’s mother is very well versed in herbal remedies.>”

“Artsut? That woman who hates sky people.” Jake frowned, “She’s not a pleasant woman to be around.”

“<She is not, but it is well skilled in herbal remedies, more so than Mo’at in some recipes. I know her quite well from my youth. She and Mo’at became rivals after my sister became tsakarem and it only became worse when she became Tsahìk. It was a dramatic time.>”

Jake blinked at the man before the words sunk in. “Wait, Artsut wanted to be the next Tsahìk but lost to Mo’at.”

“<Yes. I heard Artsut even tried to seduce Eytukan when he became Olo’eyktan but he rejected her and mated with my sister to secure their relationship and position. She’s been sour ever since. She had to settle for Ateyo who was the only one willing to take her as his mate despite the gossip.>”

Kim hummed softly, clearly enjoying the story. “Why was Mo’at chosen over Artsut?”

“<My sister has an open mind and an open heart for the will of Eywa and for the clan. Artsut’s fixated desire for strict tradition wouldn’t have seeded a bright future.” N’deh explained. “Mo’at understands the necessity for adapting tradition for our clan’s evolution which only grew when the Sky people first arrived. Artsut had darkness in her heart that the Tsahìk before noticed. No excellent amount of skill would ever cover a darkened heart, nor should one be given power over the people.>”

“Huh.” Jake chuckled softly to himself but in the end, excused himself to unlink and care for his human body. Still, it made him wonder what other remedies would affect the link between Dreamwalker and the driver. Maybe it was a grey area that they should be explored a little with Mo’at later?

Jake slipped into his mauri and lay back into his hammock with a heavy sigh, closed his eyes and let the link go.

Masterlist

[rivka-kopelman]

Crepuscular Lemur: Log 0.3

<view full log>

[July Xth, 30XX]

Hi it's Delivery Lemur. Taking a little break right now.

I want a coffee, but I just ate a sweet_orange bar, and I've learned that coffee flavor right after orange is really gross so I'm gonna wait for a bit.

This is planet Thusp. It's uninhabited. I wonder if I could climb any of those hills?

I crack the airlock and let the breeze in. Great air quality on Thusp.

How hard it would be to build a house here? Would a house ruin the view?

Maybe. Not if you were in it, though.

Anyway.

I check my delivery in-tray. Transport a pillowcase from 16 main street to 19 main street in Robby-Tobby-Town on Wobzob-III ... pass! Maybe in my old age I'll do braindead missions like that.

Hmm.. here's an order for some toxic scorpions: "Please pick up some deadly-ass scorps from Grywel-8 and bring them to the Lake Pond University biochemistry department." Aah. Grywel-8 is infested with pirates and Road Lizards. A complete nightmare. There are deep deposits of hydrous clay which can't be penetrated by radar, so the caves under them are natural hideouts. Also lots of scorpions down there. But it's not like every possible thing will go wrong. You might even say there's no risk at all. Mission accepted.

So off I go, zooming along through Galaxy 5. It's a nice one, generally. I saw a supernova out here when I was a kid.

I turn on the coffee machine. Grywel-8 is a few hours away so I put on the latest episode of my favorite podcast, “It's Bullshit: Forever Countdown.”

“Hi every everyone and everybody else, welcome to It's Bullshit: Forever Countdown! Joining us today is today's guest ~ May Milton, mouse mayor of Mothyville, the smallest town on the smallest moon of Milinil-3. May, your number is 33,000,003,000,993! Good luck May!”

“Squeak! Squea-Squeak! Squea-Squea-Squeak! Squea-Squea-Squea-Squeak!”

This episode is gonna be great!

All too soon, I reach the planet. Now why did I come here?

Something to do with........... soap? No no

Cave diving for scorpions, that's it. I look around my ship for a bug catching net and realize I don't have any such thing.

Uhh hmmmm

I have some tupperware but none of the lids match the bottoms.

Would floss work? Spiders catch bugs basically with string, right?

I'd have to make some kind of web though hmm

How about the microwave? It's already dirty. It opens and closes.

That'll do.

The crust of this planet is full of sinkholes. Any of them should lead down to a suitable cave I think. I steer toward first one I see and plunge into the shadows.

I turn on my spotlight and reduce speed to a creeping 200 meters per second. I really don't want to get jammed in a crevice. I take a big swig of coffee, crack my knuckles, and pull my beanbag chair a little closer to the control board.

I almost hit a stalagmite. Yikes. I slow down even more. Was this a bad idea? It'd be awful if this tunnel narrows as it deepens and have to reverse out. I realize what a mess the coffee will make if I brake hard or roll over. I pour out my pot into a thermos and double-check the seal before I go any further, then I check it a third time to be super sure. I turn down my cabin lights so I can see the dim outside better.

Ah caves. They're half creepy, half cozy. I feel very sheltered and protected but also trapped, scarily.

Scanning for life signs.. oh yeah there's a scorpion nest right down there between those boulders.

ok

I open the hatch and lower my microwave by the power cord down into the nest. When it looks full I wiggle it until the door swings shut .

Perfect!

I haul it up laboriously and reseal the ship. Now it's time to head to Pond Lake University. But which of these tunnels did I come in from...

The left one, for sure. Going left. Ah no this one is full of pirates hahahaha. I'll just do a little u-turn ... ah, they've surrounded me. My ship shudders as they latch a gangway to my airlock.

A beeping alert on my monitor unnecessarily informs me that the hatch is being opened without the passcode. Five pirates barge in: a hamster, a turtle, a pelican, a hyena, and an armadillo. The pelican holds a gun in her beak and points it at my face. "Gluhdhshdhfjdjdjdbeb" she sputtered.

"What?"

The hamster scampers around my ankles and goes in and out of the cupboards.

"No one else on board!" he declares.

The hyena looks me up and down, hefting a wooden board studded with nails.

"Who are you supposed to be?" He demanded.

"Delivery Lemur (deliveremur)."

"Got any guns or treasure?"

"No I dont have anything i swear. Search my whole ship if you want, just don't open the microwave ... it's full of deadly scorpions."

"Heheh how stupid do you think I am?" Chuckled the hyena. He opened the microwave and the scorpions scurried out all over his body, murdering him by stinging him to death.

Screaming as loud as they could, the pirates fled, and I fled with them. We board their vessel and slam the door behind us. Swiftly I put a lampshade on my head and stand very still so they wont notice I'm there.

"That lemur's pretending to be a lamp!" shouted the armadillo.

The pelican started shooting but was blinded by an unshaded lightbulb, so every shot missed. I ducked and zigzagged into their cockpit and locked myself in.

"Get out here so we can kill ya!" wailed the turtle.

Bad situation!

I try to find the thruster controls so I can just fly away, but this is so different from my system. Experimenting with the buttons, I accidentally open the gangway and then I hear screaming because I let all the scorpions in. Gunshots followed.

There's incoming calls from the other pirate ships.

"Nigel, what's going on over there?"

“What loot did you get off the lemurship??”

“What the hell is happening?”

I better answer them.

“Nothing! Um! There was no lemur on board!” I say into the radio.

“Nigel? Why do you have a lemurish accent?”

“I'm practicing for a play!”

“What play?”

I don't know any plays. I have to create one.

“The Lemur and the Lemon,” I say. That better not already exist.

“Can I be in the play?”

Can he even act?

“Yes you can be Mr. Lemon.”

“Hot diggity! Let's start rehearsing! I'm coming aboard right now.”

Then all the other pirates phoned in.

“Let me be in it! I'll be a lime or something!”

“You son of a bitch I'll kill you, I wanna be the lime!"

“Wait, there's no lime, stay where you are!” I protest.

“Aw there's gonna be so many lines to remember! It's too much work!"

“We'll all stab you if you forget your lines!”

“How many pages is it?”

“3000!” That's enough right? How long is an average play? How big are the pages?

“Crikey! I'm nervous already! Can I have a non-speaking part?”

“I will crochet a beautiful Lemon costume tonight!”

“You can't crochet something so round, it'll never hold it's shape. You gotta quilt it onto some kind of frame!”

“I'm crocheting it, I'll add yellow stuffing, it will be perfect.”

“Needle-felt lemons would be so much easier!”

“I said quilt it you dumb bitch! You rotten fuck! Quilt it!”

They started firing torpedoes at each other. The detonations and crashing ships were vibrating the cavern. Huge chunks of stone were knocked loose, ricocheting like bouncy balls in the weak gravity. I should escape pretty soon.

As I try to think of a plan, I trip on my foot and lose balance. I catch myself on the steering wheel. The pirate ship banks sharply to the left and starts to spin so fast everything that's not tied down is hurled into the bulkhead by coriolis. Luckily – or by design – the cockpit is positioned in the rotational center of mass at the bow of the ship, so i'm dizzy but there's no pull on my body. I open the door and brace my legs for a huge jump. If I leap in a perfectly straight line, I can – and do – reach the airlock. The scorpions and the pirates are helpless against the clockwise inertia of the spinning ship, pressed flat against the walls. I make it through the tube back to my ship and flung shut the hatch.

I fire up my engine. The chassis of the pirate ship grappling mine has been so weakened by missiles and falling rocks that it cracks apart when I accelerate. The tethers fall away. I glide stealthily into the pitch-black tunnels.

Phew! What an ordeal. All in a day's work for a professional Delivery Lemur.

Man what did I come down here for for? Uhhhh Oh crap! There's coffee spilled everywhere. I thought the thermos latch was shut! I triple-checked that the straw thing was pushed down, but the stopper itself wasn't screwed on all the way. Damn it, what a mess. Now instead of drinking coffee I'm wiping it off the ceiling.

Darn End of log 0.3

[boissonsaumiel]

New Mead Batch!

I'm about to start the batch of cactus flower mead.

I racked the Yosemite wildflower honey. I'm not sure it's 100% done fermenting, but there was negative pressure in the airlock and it's looking much clearer and, most importantly, I needed to free up that fermenter for my new batch, so out with the old, in with the new.

I put airlocks in the containers I racked it into just in case it still has more fermenting to do, so there won't be any bottle bombs.

So! Cactus flower honey.

Vendor description:

Cactus honey is made from the nectar of the Pachycereus pringlei cactus, also known as the elephant cactus or cardón cactus. This cactus is native to Mexico and Arizona, and it blooms from March to May. The honey made from its nectar is almost white and has a thick, syrupy consistency.

The honey is ... very difficult to pour.

I suppose I could just spoon it out, but that's messy, and I don't feel like it. Luckily the honey jar is the right size and shape to sit upside-down inside the lid of my wide mouth fermenter without falling in, so I'm going to just leave it there and let gravity do most of the work. Once at least ⅔ of the honey has poured out I'll add water to the honey jar and dissolve the rest.

I've draped a large flour sack tea towel over the top and tied it off around the lid with a ribbon to prevent any bugs from climbing in, since it looks like it might take at least a day if not two or three for the honey to pour out.

[mar-im-o]

Snippet from a WIP. 

Ren has DID. Doc has no idea. They’re stuck in an RV together for two months. What could go wrong?

---

Doc’s got his senses enough to focus his attention on the bright-green sticky note stuck to the pot’s handle, frowning as he brings it up to his cybernetic eye to read.

Hey big guy. Sorry about all this. Gonna have 

Ren back to you real soon. Til then I’m sticking you 

with the king. He’s new. Try not to let him airlock the body 

while Ren’s MIA. Thanks

-Stein

Stein. He remembers that name, something about a doctor character from the Turf Wars. Doc elicits nothing but a low chuckle in response, shaking his head as he crumples the sticky. He’s pleased, at least, to see Ren joking around again. That’s a good sign.

Doc’s still smiling as he lifts the lid of the trash bin to toss the sticky. There, stuck to the lid, is another bright green sticky note. Doc quirks a brow.

P . S .

Not at all a joke. Take this seriously. 

If the body gets lost to the void I’m 

telling X it was your fault.

-Stein

Doc frowns, shaking his head again as he tosses both stickies in and shuts the lid. Arguably less funny, but hardly enough to care.

He sets the pot to brew and pulls down his mug, only for yet another sticky to flutter down and land on the counter top.

P . P . S .

Don’t try to reality check the king. 

Leave that to me. Also watch out for his axe.

-Stein

The frown Doc wears sets deeper, but he doesn’t even have time to be incredulous before there’s a defiant shout from the cockpit and a clatter. Doc jumps to attention, whipping around to see the screen to the cockpit absolutely torn to shreds and a panting, frantic Ren gasping in its ruins. There’s an axe gripped tightly in his hands, and seemingly satisfied with the destruction of the screen door, he turns his attention towards Doc.

“YOU!”

Doc yelps, taking a step backwards. “Me?!”

[pariahfox]

"EASY TO OPEN!" Not noticeably, compared to other jars I've encountered. But, go off Felix.

Shame I don't have the before pictures anymore, and can't point to them on my old blog. But, this is the batch of mixed pickles which turned out mostly cabbage, with a handful of standard round red radishes we had thrown in because it seemed worth a try.

(With what was left transferred over into another saved pickle jar, to free up the airlock lid one they were made in.)

While I was fully expecting most of the color to leach out of those radish skins, I really did NOT think it was enough pigment to turn the whole jar so pink.

One of the bleached-out radish halves in question , with a piece of pink onion--and on the right, a chunk of Barbie cabbage.

The color of the carrot slices barely even stands out, in that sea of pinkness. Appearance aside, this turned out to be one of the best tart, garlicky, slightly hot batches of pickles that I have made so far.

So, if you really want some brine pickles that shade of pink, just throw in some of these babies:

It wouldn't even necessarily take that many. Not nearly as potent as beets or red cabbage pigment, but there seems to be more than enough in that thin outer skin layer.

[icarianonager]

The Institute: Episode I

The Kurchatovium Caper

That evening, Andromeda Vainion was sitting on her bed in her tiny dark dormitory of Altair Tower, waiting for a package to arrive, when suddenly Dr. Zimov sent her a message.

“Come to the laboratory, I’ve got something special to show you,” was all he said.

The young scientist groaned and heaved herself off the mattress. She grabbed a pair of goggles from her desk, threw an oversized lab coat over her ill-fitting grimy shirt and sweatpants, and shoved herself out the door. She boarded the elevator and sped down 178 floors to the 15th basement level.

Every Institute scientist worth their plutonium had a unique high-tech door to their lab, and Dr. Ivan Hibernius Zimov, known to his apprentice and many others as Vanya, was no exception. The first layer was a tungsten-steel barrier, with multiple reinforcing bars, impervious to up to ten times a standard breaching charge. Then there was a second layer of sliding metal interlocks, which were mostly for show, but spread apart in a mesmerizing three-dimensional wave pattern. There was, of course, an airlock between the inner and outer doors, where every skin cell of anyone who passed through was analyzed to ensure a 100% DNA match for authorized entry. The final entry door had a small viewing window, but was fully secured by heavy-duty metal clamps on the edges, which slowly released once the airlock was secure before the door finally wooshed open.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Andromeda asked Vanya, who was leaning over a box, the many mechanical eyes of his goggles whirring with excitement. Realization dawned on Andromeda’s face. “Is that the 200 grams of kurchatovium-354 you ordered?” she asked.

“Indeed it is, my young apprentice,” Vanya replied. “200 grams of the finest high-temperature superconductor known to man.”

“Yeah, uh, shouldn’t we be behind shielding if we have that around?” Andromeda asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

The geiger counter in the back of the laboratory was in fact, emitting a rapid staccato of shrill beeps.

“Oh please, this sample can’t be releasing more than 3.6 rad,” Vanya said. “We’ll be perfectly fine. And, as Dr. Mannerheim used to tell me, if you haven’t gotten acute radiation sickness once in your life, you’re not a true mad scientist.”

Vanya cut into the cardboard box with a blade from his Swiss army knife-like mechanical right hand and tipped it over. An unmarked steel cylinder unceremoniously thunked onto the worktop. The pair of researchers exchanged looks, and Vanya gingerly unscrewed the lid with his cybernetic hand. The room was bathed in an electric-blue glow emanating from the open cylinder.

“So, what are we gonna do with it?” Andromeda asked.

Vanya thought for a moment. “I dunno,” he said, “I just thought it would be kind of neat to keep around - no, we’re going to experiment with it, what do you think we’re going to do?”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Great,” she said, turning towards the door, “Well, when you need me to program whatever thing you made, or you need me to call the ambulance and get you on a slow drip of iodine, call me back. I have a date with a tub of ice cream and Immortal Apocalypse.”

“Hold on, apprentice, I think this may be a thrilling and interesting exercise that will greatly -” Vanya began, but the laboratory airlock was already sliding shut behind her. “Ugh, very well. I’ll do it myself then.”

Andromeda mused on many things on her elevator ride back up, idly twirling one of the locks of her messy dark hair. Once upon a time, she had been a doctoral candidate at the Institute of Advanced Studies in her own right, working for a Scientist, First Class, in the Department of Computational Biology. However, funding for her project was abruptly cut, and so she was forced to find a new position with a new doctor. However, Vanya, a Scientist, Third Class, in the Department of Nuclear Physics, was the only one who accepted her as an apprentice to assist him in his laboratory.

Her package had still not arrived when she got back to her apartment. Thus, her date was only two-thirds attended. Andromeda had a number of different flavors of ice cream in her freezer, though chocolate seemed the order of the day. Her computer backlight reflected off her round glasses as she scrolled through site after site on her laptop, a spoon poking out of her mouth as she sucked every last bit of dairy goodness off the end.

Too quickly, Andromeda was left frowning into the empty carton. She checked her phone in case she’d missed the notification that her package had been delivered, but there was nothing. She lumbered over to the door, poked her head outside into the blazing white fluorescent lights of the hallway, and squinted around, but there was nothing there. Andromeda shrugged, closed the door, and grabbed another tub of ice cream from the freezer.

Her swivelling desk chair groaned beneath her as she plopped her bulk back down on it. Level 159 was fully-purposed as a gym, but she never made it down there. Numerous spoonfuls of ice cream, boxes of greasy takeout, and containers of instant ramen were now poking their way through the armrests via Andromeda’s love handles. Her t-shirt kept sliding higher and higher, bit by bit, revealing more of her pudgy stomach as she gobbled down more ice cream. The waistband of her sweatpants was firmly shoved beneath her belly’s overhang and was quickly becoming deficient to contain the bulk of her ass. The grey flannel didn’t quite reach over the top of her butt shelf when she stood, revealing the top of a deep crevice, and was plastered against her chunky thighs.

Andromeda was focussed on none of this now though as she robotically shovelled ice cream into her maw. Her mind was split in two diverging courses. First, what the hell was Vanya doing with the kurchatovium? Second, and more importantly, where the hell was her copy of Immortal Apocalypse?

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If one hadn’t known better, it would appear as if Vanya was doing nothing except staring at a glowing blue lump of metal and stroking his beard with his cybernetic hand. However, the processors that augmented his brain were whirring at full-speed, calculating and making connections, accessing thousands of databases and whizzing through hundreds of articles for hints of matching search terms. He found solutions to over a hundred fourth-order nonlinear partial differential equations, a five-dimensional map of a time-convolved quantum tunneling simulation, and 13 new pizza restaurants in a five block radius from the lab.

Then, he looked up. “Oh, yes,” Vanya said. “This is a brilliant idea.” He opened the palm of his cyberhand in front of him. “Odysseus, begin a holographic wireframe,” Vanya said to no one in particular. A tiny transparent blue man walked onto the flat surface.

“Sir, I would like to inform you that radiation levels in the laboratory are -” Odysseus said.

“Yes, I know,” Vanya said. “It’s irrelevant. Take the kurchatovium sample to the omniprinter, and start the wireframe so I can begin designing the schematic.”

“Before I do that, sir, I must request that you employ some form of shielding so that you do not contract acute radiation syndrome.”

Vanya frowned. “What’s the current radiation level in the laboratory?”

“3.6 rad, sir, “Odysseus answered. “However, that is the maximum our local sensors can reach. I may be able to get a more accurate reading if I can access higher level -”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vanya said. “Do you remember what Dr. Mannerheim said when we used to work for him?”

“‘Please pass me the whisky, Vanya,’” Odysseus said.

“Not that.”

“‘You won’t be a true mad scientist if you never get acute radiation syndrome,’” Odysseus said, then furrowed his holographic brow. “Wasn’t that when he dropped the bottle of 12-year-aged Glenlivet in the nuclear reactor core?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t he die attempting to retrieve said bottle of 12-year-aged Glenlivet?”

“Okay, listen,” Vanya said, “You smarmy little.... What’s the Second Law of Artificial Intelligences?”

“Sir, I believe that law permits me to disobey those orders if they violate the First Law.”

“Damn you. Well, here’s a new order for you then: if you don’t shut up about the radiation, I’ll put your main processor inside the biggest nuclear reactor core in the Hades pit, and see how you like it,” Vanya said. “We’ve wasted enough time already, so get the sample to the omniprinter, and get the wireframe module started. No more complaining.”

“It is fortunate my processor is beneath several levels of concrete, else the current levels of radiation could damage the circuitry,” Odysseus said, but then obeyed his master’s orders. A thin mechanical claw whirred to life and grabbed the glowing cylinder of kurchatovium, sliding on the ceiling rails over to a machine the size of an oven. The claw lowered the material onto a small platform surrounded by sensor rings, which swirled to life, spreading red laser beams and other wavelengths outside the visible spectrum over the piece of metal, determining its composition, size, shape, weight, and other properties. Other machinery inside the omniprinter began to reconfigure to adapt to the presence of the kurchatovium and prepare for orders as to how to remake this raw matter into something... extraordinary.

Vanya smiled and got to work designing his new invention.

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“Oh, finally,” Andromeda said, hearing the characteristic knock of a metal delivery robot’s claw on her door. With uncharacteristic speed, she thudded over to the door to retrieve her prize. The mechanized courier was there, the cardboard box containing Apocalypse Immortal inside its head receptacle. However, there was something odd about the delivery robot. It seemed twitchy. Andromeda figured it was probably an older model, maybe about to go in for a diagnostic as soon as its shift was over. She reached forward to grab the box.

The robot’s left claw shot out and grabbed the plush blubber of her upper arm.

“What the hell? Ow!” Andromeda felt a slight pinprick, but then shook herself free from the courier’s weak grasp. She had the game box in her other hand. “Goddamn, these things get glitchier every day.”

The courier robot suddenly (and confusingly) looked somehow excited, and sped off down the hallway to the elevator.

Andromeda’s brow furrowed for a moment, but then she shrugged and took her game inside. She grabbed her laptop and headphones off her desk and threw them on her bed, tore open the game box, and slid the memory chip inside. Physical media was always safer at the institute, since you never knew what kind of computer viruses the Department of Software Engineering was cooking up and testing over the network. While the installer ran, Andromeda grabbed a cup of instant ramen from the pantry cabinet and filled her electric kettle with water to boil. Eventually, both midnight snack and game were prepared. Heavy power chords strummed through her headphones and the glow from her laptop burned crimson as the game launched.

Four cups of ramen, a frozen vegetarian pizza, the last gallon of ice cream, one hundred slain demons, and one hour later, Andromeda felt the night was still young, but, unfortunately, she was out of foodstuffs to gobble up. She put out a big order for takeout, which soon arrived by fortunately not-glitchy delivery courier. Her tummy burbled happily as she packed lo mein into the crevices that were left.

“I see you’re having a pleasant evening,” Odysseus said, his hologram appearing on Andromeda’s keyboard.

“Go away, Odd,” Andromeda said through a mouthful of noodles. “Doesn’t Vanya need your help?”

“He does, but he’s barely using .01% of my processor right now, so I figured I might as well check in.” Odysseus frowned, looking at Andromeda’s stomach. In her supine state, the double-rolled cushion flopped completely outside the bounds of her shirt. “It appears you’ve consumed over 2500 calories in the past hour.”

Andromeda swallowed. “Yeah, so?”

“The First Law of Artificial Intelligences requires me to inform you that -”

“Yeah, well, I really don’t care,” Andromeda said. She idly drummed on her paunch, sending ripples through the thick adipose. “You realize there are 150 senior scientists and professors who’ve developed obesity treatments, right? No one cares anymore. It’s not a risk.”

Odysseus paced across the keyboard, stepping over Andromeda’s chubby digits on the WASD keys, even though he was intangible. “I suppose,” he said. “You will have to actually get one of those treatments at some point at this rate though, and you know how scientists can be with protecting their research....”

Odysseus’s virtual eyes suddenly locked onto the tiny red dot on Andromeda’s arm. “I’m noticing a slight blemish on your right aftarm,” he said.

“Oh, that?” Andromeda said, fruitlessly trying to drag her sleeve down over it. “It’s nothing. A courier bot poked me.”

“Strange,” Odysseus said. “Courier robots are not known for having sharp pieces. Did you catch its serial number perhaps? We could report that to Security.”

Andromeda belched. “Nope. It’s really not important.”

Odysseus suddenly looked very worried. “I am going to take my leave, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I need to double check the laboratory security system.” His hologram winked out.

“Okay,” Andromeda said. “Guess it’s your job to be paranoid.”

She tossed the empty lo mein box into the pile around her bed, making a mental note to have

a cleaning robot come through at some point and take out the trash. She then put out an order for another tub of ice cream.

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“Sir, someone is entering through the main airlock,” Odysseus said. “The DNA signature reads that it is Andromeda, but there are some... discrepancies.”

“Let her in,” Vanya said. “I’m almost done, and I think she’ll want to see this.”

“Sir, I believe that would be unwise,” Odysseus began. “I was just with Andromeda, and -”

But Vanya ignored him. “I said let her in!”

The airlock clamps disengaged and the door whooshed open, but the figure who entered was not quite as porcine and slovenly. She wore a suit of chitinous black armor and a cloak with perfectly circular holes deliberately torn in it. A gas mask with a black tinted visor obscured her visage except for her piercing dark eyes.

“Ah, Dr. Katherine-Marie Voltaire!” Vanya said. “What a pleasant surprise. If you wanted to visit, you could have simply sent me a request. Odysseus might have given you a warmer welcome.”

“Do not insult my intelligence, Vanushka,” Voltaire said.

“I can be nothing but genuine,” Vanya replied. “The Institute wishes to foster cooperation between its various Departments, and I am happy to oblige.” The apertures of his goggles narrowed. “And so, in the name of said cooperation, I do have to ask, how did you get in here?”

Voltaire chuckled. “Let’s just say your apprentice should be more careful when getting packages. Those courier robots can have sharp edges. You never know when one might nick you and get a drop of blood for me to craft a DNA-masking retrovirus from.”

While Voltaire monologued, Vanya subtly shifted his body to hide the nearly-completed device behind him. “Well, that’s very interesting,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’m very busy at the moment, so whatever you wish to discuss about my work will have to wait until later. Furthermore, I will have to report impersonating my apprentice to the Security Division, because that breach is a potential - urk!”

“Where is the kurchatovium?” Voltaire asked, crushing Vanya’s throat with five mechanical fingers.

“Odysseus, security alarm!” Vanya squeezed out as loud as he could through his rapidly shrinking windpipe. “Code Alpha Epsilon Delta!” A klaxon blared out. The white lights of the lab were replaced with swirling red emergency lights.

Voltaire threw Vanya aside. “You’re such an idiot, Vanka-dear. Just pulling the old ‘hide the important thing behind you’ trick?”

“You unfortunately didn’t leave me many options,” Vanya said, rubbing his pained throat and attempting to crawl over to a device on a nearby low shelf that looked like a two-slot toaster attached to a polymer rifle stock.

“By the way, where is your radiation protection?” Voltaire asked. She picked up the invention from the table. It appeared to be just as a stubby cylinder with a coil of copper wire wrapped around it attached to a rotating glowing blue cylinder. Two canisters of unknown material were plugged into the rear, and some bare steel panels bolted together acted to hold the device as one unit. “My sensors indicate this... thing you’ve made is giving off over 1000 rad. I brought my hazard suit, where’s yours?”

“I did warn him about using protection,” Odysseus added.

“You won’t be a true mad scientist if you never get acute radiation syndrome!” Vanya shouted, and opened fire with his α-particle gun.

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An alert suddenly flashed on Andromeda’s laptop screen over the blood and gore of the Immortal shredding through hordes of chaotic aliens: “Help immediately. Research under threat.”

She paused the game. “Odd, what’s happening?” Andromeda called out. The blue holographic man again popped into being slightly above her keyboard.

“It seems one of Dr. Zimov’s colleagues would like his kurchatovium sample,” he said. “You should get down to the laboratory immediately.”

“How am I supposed to help?” Andromeda asked.

“Well, first... you should contact the Security Division,” Odysseus said. “She hasn’t disconnected Altair Tower from the network. Maybe she was expecting this to be an easier hit....”

“Can’t you handle that?”

“Dr. Zimov has prohibited me from doing that to prevent me from interfering with his experiments.”

“Of course he has.... Alright, fine. Then what?”

“Get down to the lab. At least that will put the numerical factor in our favor.” With that, Odysseus disappeared.

Andromeda lumbered into action, following Odysseus’s instructions to the letter. She sent messages to Security that a scientist was being attacked. Then, she trundled out of her dorm over to the elevator to descend 178 floors to the 15th basement level. She left her headphones on, still blaring the Immortal Apocalypse as she rushed through the airlock into the lab to find a scene of total anarchy.

Plasma burns covered the walls and the sprinkler system had been set off because the wastepaper basket was on fire. Vanya’s face was badly bruised and his multi-eyed goggles were askew. His opponent’s (who Andromeda also recognized, though less fondly, by her rather distinctive hazard suit) visor was cracked and her armor was dented in several places. Presumably the two had been slugging it out with their respective prostheses, since the α-particle gun lay smashed in the corner of the room. The pair was reduced to wrestling in the center of the lab over a glowing blue invention.

“Dr. Voltaire? What the hell are you doing here?” Andromeda asked, completely incredulous to see her old mentor.

It was just enough of a distraction for Vanya to get the upper hand. He swiftly wrenched the invention from Voltaire’s grasp with his right hand, and, with the accuracy that only a perfectly-tuned prosthetic can provide, chucked it to Andromeda, who just managed to catch it, her chest and belly providing the right padding to make sure not a solitary circuit breaker bent.

“Vanya, what is this?” she asked.

“Just point it at her and pull the trigger!” Vanya shouted. “Odysseus, activation code 8991!”

“Kurchatovium Superconductor Cryonic Beam, activated,” Odysseus said calmly.

Andromeda pulled the trigger. The spinning cylinder at the rear rotated faster and faster until a cyan beam shot forth, quickly freezing on contact with the air into sparkles of tiny hexagonal crystals, until it struck Voltaire in the side and knocked her into the wall at the other end of the laboratory, held fast by a thick layer of ice.

“Haha! It works flawlessly!” Vanya said, applauding.

“You bastard!” Voltaire swore. “You wasted 200 grams of kurchatovium on a worthless... ice cream gun!”

“Now, that would be an interesting application,” Andromeda said. She placed the gun on a nearby table and went over to give Vanya a hand up. “Do you think the beam housing could be modified to accept a custard canister as opposed to water and liquid nitrogen?”

“Precisely, my apprentice,” Vanya said, standing with Andromeda's help. “This prototype was unfinished, but the kurchatovium superconductor provides such a strong magnetic field that virtually any fluid material could be frozen by it.”

“Sir, security is here to provide assistance. Should I permit them entry?” Odysseus asked.

“Of course,” Vanya said.

A squad in Security Division white armor stormed into the laboratory. Their commander suddenly stopped in place. “Dear Lord, this entire place is irradiated. I’m detecting over 1000 rad an hour.” He looked to Vanya and Andromeda. “Why aren’t the two of you protected?”

Andromeda suddenly noticed Vanya’s face was cherry red. “Uh, Vanya, I think I need to get you that iodine drip,” she said. “You’ve got nuclear sunburn.”

Vanya looked at his reflection in the hard-frozen ice imprisoning Voltaire. “Oh. I guess I do then,” he said, at which point he fell over, unconscious. A pair of Security Division troopers took him away, while two more began thawing Voltaire out.

“I can provide full records of her break-in to this laboratory,” Odysseus told the commander. “Unless she had a full sensor jamming suite embedded in her hazard suit, her every movement has been monitored. Andromeda can provide testimony as to how she broke our security protocols.”

The Security Division commander nodded. “Thank you for your quick reporting,” he said to Andromeda. “Though, of course, it seems you had the situation under control before we even arrived.”

Andromeda blinked. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. The commander looked a bit skeptical, then coughed behind his mask by means of exiting the conversation.

Andromeda wandered over to Voltaire. The Security troopers had finished melting enough ice off of her to slap a suit restraining bolt on her, as well as a pair of magnetic cuffs for good measure. “You couldn’t wait a week to get the next supply of kurchatovium?” Andromeda asked.

“You don’t understand,” Voltaire said. “I needed it for an urgent operation.”

“So you’d put out a hit on a colleague’s funding for that, but not to protect your own doctoral candidate?” Andromeda said, her tone dripping acid. “I’m glad I no longer have to work for you.”

“What, so you could work for that pathetic, disgusting creature?” Voltaire said, pointing to Vanya. “Your talents are wasted here.” She looked Andromeda up and down. “You once were a respectable scientist, Ms. Vainion. Now you’re an obese slug working for a madman. I hope you’re happy.”

Andromeda turned away from Voltaire as the Security troopers dragged her away. She noticed a trooper was placing the cryonic beam in a radiation-sealing box.

“Hold on,” Andromeda said to the trooper. “Odd, did Vanya develop a schematic for the housing for this?”

“He did,” Odysseus said. “Would you like me to present it for modification?”

“Yeah, show it,” Andromeda said. “And take the internals over to the omniprinter so we can get them wrapped up as soon as it’s printed.” The ceiling claw descended to pick up the irradiated components and move them to a safer distance away. A wireframe model of the housing appeared in front of Andromeda. She poked her double chin, thinking for a moment, before moving a few components around and drawing in spaces for a few new ones. “There, done,” she said after a few minutes.

“Perfect,” Odysseus said. “Would you like me to send it to the omniprinter for manufacturing?”

“Of course,” Andromeda said. Within a few moments, a sleek electric blue housing made sure every particle from α to γ was kept inside the device and away from the more sensitive human beings who operated it.

“Radiation levels are nominal,” Odysseus said. “Excellent work.”

Andromeda picked up the cryonic beam and slung it over her shoulder. “While Vanya’s in sickbay, I’ll program this thing for him. The beam could be better stabilized if the processor was more fine-tuned,” she mused. “Maybe perform a few... tests, too. Supposedly ice cream frozen by superconductor is the smoothest in the world.” Belly growling, Andromeda started drooling over the possibilities that science had brought her.

[clatterbane]

New batch of pickles now underway! I did decide to cut the bigger Brussels sprouts in half, and threw the small ones in whole.

Those ended up filling less of the airlock lid Kilner jar than expected, so time for another illustration of how peeling will cover a multitude of produce sins.

I actually ended up grabbing another of those big carrots too, and cut them fairly chunky to go with the theme. These are not going to be nicely sandwich sliced pickles already.

Seasonings this time: my standard bay leaf-mustard seed-mixed peppercorn combo and a couple of large cloves of garlic--plus, this time I decided to try a few lightly crushed juniper berries in there, for variety. I didn't use much juniper because the taste can get pretty strong. It does go well with pepper and bay leaves in Weinkraut, though, which is what made me think to try some in these.

Top it up with water, weigh the jar to add 3% salt in, and we should be set.

I finished that off with a spare already-pickled homegrown chili, and a piece of cabbage leaf out of the same previous batch as a cap on top to help keep anything else from floating up around the edges around the pickling weight. That's why this jar is already looking a little cloudy at the top. It was there, and if anything should help act as a starter to get the fermentation kicked off.