It's like slingshotting around the sun to get a boost into deep space. I've done this sort of simulation in Physics class - I always got A's in Physics, and a 5 on the AP test... but that was an old life - but never had to account for water resistance. Indeed, I'll watch and learn. Getting A's in Physics is one thing, doing it in your head in less than five minutes is quite another.
I'll hang around with Donald for now, watch how he figures the angles, and listen out for cries for help.
You watch as Donald attempts to estimate the best course and signal it to the pilot commander at the wheel. Other pilots are taking orders and relaying them to the deck hands on the masts.
The ship suddenly lurches, and Donald shakes his head. "He's a good pilot," he says. "He could feel that that vector was wrong. Well, that's why we work together--no one is always right. I'd have taken us too close.
You feel the wind take the sails, and the whirlpool is left behind as you move away from it.
"Let the team know they can stand down. I'll get us back on course."
He heads back to the map room, looking at the compass as he goes.
--M. J. Young
I go around to tell the others they can, in fact, stand down. Well, except the poor bugger in the crow's nest. Not a lot I can do for him unless he happens to be looking so I can signal him. I could try to flick something at him with TK to get him to look, but #1 pebbles aren't too common on ships and #2 I'm not very good at that - with my luck I'd blow him up instead and then where would we be? Ah, well. He'll figure it out.
Meanwhile... what was I doing? Oh, yes, it's my turn to be on duty. Alright then. I'll head for the forecastle and resume my usual way of spending my duty time, alternating between using the telescope and practicing my Telescopic Vision, all the while hoping I spot something interesting that won't result in us all getting killed in some unseemly way.
Things are returning to normal. There are some minor injuries among those who worked the deck, but medical is attending to these. Donald sends you to get some dinner near dinner time, and says that he'll brief his relief, who will be there when you return.
It grows dark, and you do the obligatory sightings, recording your numbers in the log. No one is sure even yet of your longitude, but the latitude is confirmed.
Shift ends.
--M. J. Young
Once I'm relieved, I'll stay up a while before I sleep. Practice on my flute, trying to get better at that. Work on my telekinesis, my telescopic vision, all of the things I can't really focus on while I'm on duty - I'll spend one of my off-duty shifts sleeping and the other practicing my non-working skills, as though being a psychic bard were a second job. Why not? Half the people I know are asleep and the other half are working, so I might as well be useful to myself, at least. Let this be a new routine until something happens that changes it, like land. And getting paid.
I'm assuming that you would not practice the flute in your sleeping quarters, since it would be rare that neither of your bunkmates would be asleep (one works four to midnight and the other midnight to eight, and you're on from noon to eight, so there might be a bit of time here or there--but then, there are people sleeping in adjacent rooms, too). That suggests that you play either in the galley or on deck. Either way, you'll get the compliments of the other seamen, who have no particular musical ability and enjoy the intrusion of a bit of song in their day.
You continue this practice for the next several weeks. At the end of that time you're back on the old latitude and pretty sure of your position longitudinally. However, on the fifty-first day the order comes down to plot a new course, to find an island on which materials can be collected. There is a crack in the forward mast, probably from the maneuverings at the whirlpool, but it's worsening and needs to be braced. Engineering is working on it, but doesn't think they can hold it together all the way to Durnmist (particularly since navigation can't say better than maybe within two months to landfall there).
This of course means pouring over the incomplete charts of the Greater Syndic, looking for known islands which are reported to have good timber, guessing where the Mary Piper is relative to them, and making the best course for that position based on that information.
--M. J. Young
I will indeed take all the time I can get practicing my fluting in the galley, as that is the place least likely to get something pointy flung at me. Most of the songs I know are from the Renaissance Faire, so they're either Irish songs ("Star of the County Down") or sailing songs ("Day of the Clipper") or both ("Mingulay"), so these should go down well. If anyone else on the crew knows any songs - working songs, sailing songs, drinking songs - I make an effort to learn them. I would be genuinely shocked if nobody on the crew knows any songs at all, simply because of the significance of sea chanties and their working use. If this world simply doesn't have that, I'll try and spread the idea around. It's especially a good idea for men who row, work the capstan, or pump.
I wonder if I'm getting any better with my Telescopic Vision after constant shifts of practice and working on it. Trying to maintain it longer, trying to use it with the actual telescope, trying to improve the resolution and clarity, and so on. I'll even try and filter out the glare off the sea when using it.
When the time comes, I will join Donald and the others in poring over maps, trying to figure out a likely island - the one nearest to where we ought to be, the one nearest to where we likely are, and the one we have to change course the least to get to, if in fact none of those overlap.
I do have my navigator skills, even if those haven't raised since I learned them either, so at the very least I can do some of the pens-and-paper for them, even if I'm probably useless for figuring out where we are and where we're going.
Yes, some of the men know songs, and you pick up a few new ones.
It turns out to be Dooley who finds a decent island. Brian and Donald both came up with possibles, but Dooley's has the virtue that it's probably still ahead, and the other two would require doing some backtracking to be sure not to miss them.
In two days you pull near the island and drop anchor. The captain wants a skeleton crew to remain aboard--at least one on duty in each department--but will let people go ashore in shifts; the chief engineer wants his men and the deck hands to cut lumber for the repairs. He intends to brace the mast securely, and have it changed in the shipyards of Durnmist. He could try to replace the mast himself, but it would take at least a week and be a grueling job under these conditions.
--M. J. Young
I'll volunteer to stay aboard for the Navigation department for a while. Getting lost in the woods on some bizarre new world isn't my idea of a day at the beach. Besides, it gives me some uninterrupted time to practice my Telescopic Vision and TK Pulse without people giving me any "wtf is he doing?" sort of looks. I can sit there staring out to sea with that slightly stoned look on my face without people assuming I'm shirking my duties.
If I'm /really/ ambitious, I might even try to climb up to the crow's... ... ...oh hell no. Six feet is still high enough for me. Let's not talk crazy...
So I'll sit comfortably in the aftcastle, staring at the sea and clouds in high resolution, and playing on my Irish Flute, somewhat disappointed that after two months of trying I still suck at it. Alas, it seems the muses are not so very strong with me.
You get interrupted often enough. At some point the Captain happens by. "Not going ashore, John? I promise we won't leave without you, you know."
The deck hand who remained on deck is evidentally bored and wishing he were ashore; he keeps engaging you in conversation. His name is Andrev, he comes from a place called Haven, and he was hoping that if he started as a deck hand he might be a captain someday, but it's not so easy as it sounds. He asks where you got the flute and where you learned to play it, where you're from and what family you've got, and a host of similarly prying questions trying to get you to talk about yourself.
--M. J. Young
I explain to him that the flute was a gift from a friend, who thought I would be more likely to bother learning if I owned one, and who was right. I haven't actually learned to play yet, that's what I'm doing now. My name is John Sevenwind and I don't remember where I'm from - I spend a lot of time wandering and before that my father went to great lengths to make sure I never had a home. If Andrev ever does make Captain, he should keep me in mind if he needs a navigator. I'll play the refrain from "Star of the County Down" and ask, By the bye, do you happen to know any songs?
If I can't get uninterrupted practice, at least I can get practical interruptions. He's just lucky I'm practicing the flute today and not TK Pulse - the water here looks cold.
Andrev says he knows songs, but he can't sing very well. You coax him, but it turns out he's right--the man is apparently tone deaf, can't sing worth a lick, and has a minimal sense of rhythm. The only difference between one song and the next is the words, really, but he does know a dozen songs, and once you've got him started he moves through at least pieces of all of them.
After one particularly long rendition, he says that that particular song has thirteen more verses, but he doesn't remember them all.
The songs range from bawdy tales on the order of some of the Canterbury Tales stories to songs of love lost to dreams of adventure on the high seas to hard labor songs ("Chief Roman don't like that one; he says if we don't like working he can get other deck hands who would love to have our pay for what we does.").
Everyone is back aboard before sunset, although there's still work to finish in the morning, so you'll be anchored here overnight.
--M. J. Young
When he teaches me the one Chief Roman doesn't like, I'll teach him the Pump Chanty, which is another one good for annoying work bosses.
Anchored here overnight... Meh. I'll leave whoever is taking the night watch to, well, take the night watch, and go below. Food. Coffee. Then back to my room for a little practice flicking coins around in my lap with TK before bed - overall a nice relaxing day at anchor.
Provided, of course, that over the course of the day I never actually saw anything out there, via telescope or via Telescopic Vision. I'm obviously not going to sit there swapping songs with tone-deaf Andrev while the dread pirate roberts sails right up our rudder.
The late the next day you raise anchor, the mast having been braced with several stout split logs lashed about it. The head of engineering seems to have that "hope it holds" look about him.
Over the course of the next few weeks you finally confirm your position and conclude that you are back in the lane. You practice regularly, both in the work you are doing and in the skills you've undertaken in your spare time. The wind is good and the seas calm and lonely.
--M. J. Young
I do my duty, taking my shifts and spending them practicing as I have been.
In my off hours I write my journals, practice my TK Pulse and music, and spend most of the time in the galley with the various men who come and go, learning their songs and their stories.
If anyone has significant events that they celebrate - birthdays, wedding anniversaries, "my wife was due to have our first child today," that sort of thing - I ask them what they would normally do to observe such an event, and try to recreate that as best we can aboard ship, generally getting to know these people and their culture, and trying to make the long days at sea a little easier.
If I get a chance at all, I want to talk to the captain and the first officer as much as I can about captaining, about the price and issues involved in owning and operating a ship, and generally just learning from them how being a legitimate captain and running a real ship work. Seeing as I'm just a simple fisherman's nephew, and all...
If there is anyone aboard who swordfights - maybe my friend in Security - I'd like to try and get some fencing in with him and his men, to keep those skills sharp in case we need them. (My sword is a red-bladed smallsword, hand-forged by a master smith from meteoric iron I bought for that purpose - very light and almost perfectly balanced.)
Mostly just pass the time passing the time. Work on my skills to keep busy and keep sharp, and keep learning, and try my level best to immerse myself in this world, as after my near-death experience I'm increasingly hoping for a long stay.
To that end, I'm seriously not pushing my luck with any more experiments. I learned TK Pulse and Telescopic Vision, and after my little episode with that, I'm not willing to risk the head-asploding that might come from trying any more. Until I'm really comfortably good with both - 1@5 or better - I'm laying off trying for anything new.
Very few men own their own ships; ships like the Mary Piper are owned by companies like the Sardic Trading Company. Captains are hired, or commissioned, based on experience; in general, you should have significant experience in at least two departments aboard a ship, and have served as an officer/department head before being considered for either first officer or captain, and most captains were first officers at one time. Captain John started in Engineering, and worked in Navigation and Piloting ultimately becoming Pilot Commander and then First Officer on another vessel; when the captaincy opened here, he stepped into it, although most ships promote from within first. There are captains whose background is mostly security and deck, but they're rather rare.
Officers and crew are paid fixed salaries; navigator is second only to pilot in terms of crew salaries. The first officer gets the base salary of a Pilot Commander, plus 5% of the profit of the run if there is any. The company runs many ships, and takes 10% of the profit from each. The Captain gets no salary, but 85% of the profit; he's the one who decides what expenses must be paid along the way, so every time he buys supplies, repairs the ship, hires help, or in any way spends the money, it is mostly his own money he is spending. It doesn't pay to cut corners, though, because if the ship isn't seaworthy, you're out of a job. Typically Captain John makes about four times what a pilot commander is paid, but he can make a bit more or a lot less, depending on how the trip goes.
Any other questions on that?
Security trains in swords all the time, and if you want to train with them in your spare time, they'll be glad for the sparring partners. They'll comment on the quality of your sword and ask where you got it (being a simple fisherman's nephew and all). How much time per week are you putting into this?
--M. J. Young
Let's say half of my off-duty shift every other day, so 4hrs X 3 or 4 = 12 or 16 hours per week.
Do I have four things I'm training in off duty? TK Pulse. Irish flute. Swordsmanship. I practice my Telescopic Vision on duty so that doesn't count... hmm... let's say all of every other day's off-shift, on average about 20 hours a week on each of those three with the extra shift divided up into patches of rest.
No other questions on the business of captains or anything like that.
And I explain that the sword was made by a master smith who happened to owe me a favor, from metal that was never torn from the womb of the earth. (It's close enough to true - I did also have to pay the man, but the fact that he made me such a sword at all was because he owed me for covering his ass. And the metal IS meteoric iron, even if I did buy it rather than finding it.)
Thirty days after you leave the island--the eighty-second day of your time on this ship--Brian gives out a yell from the crow's nest about an hour before you're on duty.
It seems that he has spotted a sea monster, some distance ahead off the port bow, moving to intercept.
--M. J. Young
A What!?
SO not what I signed on for...
I watch what the others from Navigation are doing, and follow suit. I imagine the standard for a fishing boat would be to bravely run away, so I figure no one will mind the new kid not knowing what to do. Still, I try my level best to figure out what it is I ought to be doing and then, well, do it.
Donald is of course also on duty, and he responds to the cry swiftly. Seeing you, he says, "Good, John; find or roust Dooley, and then get up on the forecastle with some telescopes, and both of you tell me exactly what you see. I'm on my way there already; maybe we can steer clear of this thing, but it depends on what it is and what it wants."
--M. J. Young
I do as he says, scampering down to poke Dooley. "Sea monster! Grab a telescope and meet me on the forecastle." If I have a telescope handy, I hand it to him, along with his boots, then head for our post.
If I have /another/ telescope, I use it.
If not, I grab one.
If I just handed Dooley the last one (sorry for drowning one, captain!) I rely on my Telescopic Vision.
While waiting for Dooley, I'll take a moment to tie a rope to the forecastle mast, in case I need something to grab onto, before going back to scoping the beastie.
You roust Dooley and hand him his boots; you'll each have to get telescopes from navigation, but the Captain is well aware that telescopes get washed overboard, and it's more important to worry about bringing the people back aboard than the equipment, so there are quite a few here.
From the forecastle you focus on this beasty. Theres smoke coming from its head as it moves through the water.
Odd thing, though--its chest seems to be covered in something like tree bark.
--M. J. Young
I point that out to Dooley and to Donald - the tree bark thing. "Is that unusual? I've never seen one up close before... It certainly looks odd..."
Donald focuses his telescope where you're pointing.
"No, you're absolutely right. Call off the alert, everyone. It's not a beast--just some natives trying to scare people away from their territory. Dooley, tell the pilot to alter course about five degrees starboard until we get past it. If the natives see that we're going around them, they'll probably back off. Meanwhile, John, you keep an eye on it from here, and I'll relieve Brian in the crow's nest until we're around it, and Dooley, you can head back to bed--I'm sure you didn't get enough sleep yet.
"John, if the dummy doesn't back off when it sees we're going around it, you'll have to widen the berth; but keep an eye out for shoals and reefs, of course, and I will too. We don't want to be run aground by this thing, and it's a lot easier to fight a bunch of natives with bows in a covered canoe than it is to fight a sea monster or get a ship off a shoal."
He heads for the rigging.
--M. J. Young
I take that all in, and nod. It's not a sea monster, it's a scarecrow. Gotcha.
"Alright."
I keep an eye out, looking forward with my telescope and my Telescopic Vision. If I can, I'd like to increase the contrast of my Telescopic Vision so as to be able to pick out subsurface reefs, iceburgs, sandbars, etc.
Bloody scarecrow... As we move past it, I poke the scarecrow with my TK Pulse. Poke. Poke. See how you like getting all freaked out over nothing. Poke.
The telescopic vision isn't working at the moment; do you want to attempt to increase contrast anyway?
You do bump the monster well enough on the first attempt to change its course slightly. The second attempt fails, but the third gets it rocking a bit. Whoever is operating it turns it around and heads back toward that island not far away, and you don't have to make any more course corrections.
Donald asks if you want a dinner break before he goes off duty; the sun is setting ahead of you, and you seem to be nicely on course.
--M. J. Young
Yes, I'll attempt to increase contrast anyway, though I prepare for another night of weird visions and migraines when I do.
Provided I'm not bleeding from the eyeballs by then, I'll gladly take Donald up on his offer for a dinner break. Have a mug of ale with my friend from Security and some of those biscuits. Yawn. Maybe some coffee. Mmm. Coffee.
And as they sail away... hmph! Serves them right for THEM to be the ones to have to row out of the way. Scarecrow indeed!
You don't damage your eyes, but you don't achieve your objective either.
You take dinner, but your security friend is just finishing when you arrive, and can only stay a few minutes. However, you mentioned to him about practicing your swordplay sometime, and he asks if you want to work out in the morning a bit, maybe around ten or so.
--M. J. Young
I don't work until noon, so ten is fine with me.
It'll be good to get in a few rounds with someone who knows what he's on about - especially if he uses a weapon other than a smallsword, as I have little practice against heavier blades.
Mmm, dinner. Yawn. Stretch. And then back to work. And more time alternating between the actual telescope and the power of my... very sleepy... mind. Bloody scarecrow giving me an adrenaline crash. If they were still here I'd... yawn... poke them again.
At least the forecastle is uncomfortable enough to keep me awake till the end of my shift.
The weapons of choice in security are cutlass and dagger, and your friend fights Florentine, using both as weapons and as defenses. It is a challenging bout, as Walt is quite good with the sword and has a respectable level of ability with the dagger, and it is clear he has used both in real personal combat situations where his life depended on it. He's quite willing to practice with you a few days a week, if you're up for it, as he has to practice anyway, and having a partner with different skills is helpful. Besides, Davis is much better than he (can outdo him using the dagger against his sword), and the new guy Douglas isn't as good as you yet.
Two and a half weeks later, on your ninety-ninth day aboard, there is an announcment made that water will be rationed. Word is that one of the main casks apparently sprang a slow leak months ago that went undetected, and now that they've tapped it it's empty, and they're using backup casks. Since navigation can never be one hundred percent certain of the latitude or the distance traveled in a day, the three days supply will be stretched toward six, in the hope that land--and fresh water--will be reached before then. It looks promising to you; if you're where you all think you are (that is, navigation), then as long as the wind holds you'll be in Durnmist within seventy-two hours--civilization, such as it is.
--M. J. Young
Do they have any buckets on board, and cloth that is waterproof or can easily be made waterproof?
If they do, and if we can spare about 1 square yard of space (on the forecastle, perhaps?) I could build a rudimentary solar still, which would allow us to desalinate the seawater and, with a little work, make it potable. I've done that before and I very much remember how.
A cone of black cloth to substitute for clear plastic. As it evaporates, the water condenses on the cone and drips into an inner bucket (which is weighted down and sitting in the bucket of seawater). The water that condenses in the inner bucket can only be pure water, due to the way water behaves when changing states - that is, it doesn't take anything with it. This becomes /faster/, if not nearly as efficient, if we have a readily available source of heat. (Of course, fires aboard ship are bad, but we do have a galley...)
Granted it won't be as easy without modern materials, but it should still work. It would be enough to let my mates in Navigation drain less from the emergency supplies, anyway.
Of course, I would probably waste a whole day rigging the thing, given how many times it's likely to leak, dump, or spontaneously combust before I get a working version, so I'll leave it to Donald to decide whether or not I should bother. Water from a solar still generally tastes like the bucket, but it's better than nothing.
In the mean-time I suggest to Walt that we ought to lay off sparring. Working up a sweat while water is at half rations would be unwise at best.
The nearest thing anyone has to "waterproof cloth" is canvas sails--and they're certainly not waterproof in any meaningful sense, just thick and tightly woven enough that they don't get too heavy when it rains. They're also rather large, and a bit expensive; it's not clear whether you could make what you describe without cutting one, and at the moment no one is worried enough about the water to start slicing up sails.
However, your idea is good, and might be implemented in a couple days if necessary.
Walt agrees to hold off on sparring.
All of this, though proves unnecessary, as by the dawns early light the next day you can see land, and before the sun sets you are pulling into port in Durnmist.
Your contract with captain says you get paid (along with everyone else) upon reaching Sardic, which is still several ports away, probably a couple of months; however, you are welcome to go ashore. Navigation doesn't need staffing during layovers, usually, until just before departure, when wind and weather checks are done. Deck will be busy, of course, moving cargo, and security will be on regular shifts, and there will be an officer aboard at all times, but you're welcome to go ashore as long as you return in time for departure.
--M. J. Young
I'll go ashore, but I won't go too far. Big cities make me a bit nervous. And either way, what is a city to a man without a dime to his name? My roll of gold dollar coins probably won't buy me bread here, especially if anyone realizes they're not real gold, which isn't hard as some of them are probably tarnished.
If Walt knows of a good place to go for drinks, I'll go along. After all, everyone has their bouts of alcoholic generosity, and a good pub ought to have a musician - maybe one I can learn something from. And what pub doesn't have barmaids?
And maybe some gambling. If they have anything like poker I might even be able to buy a round of drinks by the end of the night.
If I have time - a second day in port, perhaps - I'll go roam the market, if there is one. Again, with no money it won't amount to much, but I would like to see the sights regardless.
...There's no law against wearing a sword in public here, is there?
Edit(!): Not poker! Dice! After three months of practice I can probably get my TK Pulse to go off fairly reliably, and a telekinetic can rake it in at dice.
Especially if Dooley and Walt feel like making some pocket change with me.
The two of them sit at the dice table, and I - being just a simple fisherman's nephew - stand behind one of them to watch. The one I'm /not/ standing with, who would enter perhaps twenty minutes later, then proceeds to have a decent but not inexplicable run of good luck...
And then we're all three of us not broke all the way to Sardic.
Walt will certainly buy you a drink--actually a couple of drinks. There are barmaids, indeed, but Walt's pub of choice doesn't have a musician--just a bunch of sailors making passes at barmaids who are flattered but too experienced to take any of them seriously.
There are no weapons restrictions in Durnmist, although since you asked you'll be told that in Tempest there are some very strict laws concerning weapons, including that the ship will be inspected to make certain that any weapons beyond security needs and the reasonable personal gear of the crew are secured, and only security will be allowed to carry weapons off the ship, and only in the immediate vicinity of the ship. Here you could take one of the flintlock rifles, if you wish, although it's more cumbersome than it's worth. Walt is wearing his sword and dagger, as are quite a few of those in the bar, although most are not armed.
Generally port stops are twenty-four hours, unless there's a problem--and there isn't, so you've got until shortly before sunset to be aboard tomorrow, so you can help negotiate the journey out of the harbor into the open waters before you lose the day. I don't know whether that's enough time for you to do your market visit or not.
Gambling is illegal in Durnmist. That doesn't mean it doesn't happen, or that you can't participate. It does mean that there are some associated risks, that it's not so easy to find, and that the people who run the gambling aren't the sort who easily accept losses as part of their business. I'm sure you and Walt could find a place, if you want.
I should also ask about how exactly you would use your telekinesis here--not because you can't, but because it's not the strongest power in the world. You've got what amounts to the ability to give something a nudge. You can do this once in a minute, and it works roughly one time in three. If you had more control, of course, you could move the dice the way you want them and set them down (with practice you might make it look natural); with more speed (which comes with improved ability) you could probably keep the dice moving by bumping them until you get the number you want. Here, though, it would seem to me that you've got to let the dice hit the table, see where they're going to stop, and then bump them if you don't like that number, and hope that wherever they stop next will be better. Have you got a better way to do it? (Think of the TK Pulse as something of a gaff here--it's easy to knock the ball out of the pocket of the roulette wheel, but difficult to make it go where you want it instead. So if you see seven or eleven appear and you're quick, you can make them go away and hope for a less friendly roll; and if you see snake eyes or boxcars you can get rid of them and hope for a friendlier roll, but you can't easily turn a five into a six to get the match you need.)
So, are you going to look for a place to gamble, or put that off for another time?
--M. J. Young
I'd rather not run afoul of Mafia justice, but at least now I have something specific to practice using my TK Pulse /on/ between now and the next port. One approach I want to practice is combining TK Pulse with Telescopic Vision - being able to see the dice in higher resolution might let me figure how they're going to land that much quicker, and thus bump them more fluidly. Still, hopefully I'll have better finesse - and better than 1-in-3 odds of it working at all - between now and Sardic.
I will go out for drinks, probably strike out with at least one barmaid, and be back aboard ship by sunset tomorrow.
I note your use of slashes to cue italics ("/on/"). You'll find a quick list of code that works beneath the reply window (it's HTML, so it uses < and > bracketing), and a longer discussion of what works and how to use it in the sticky thread Coding On This Board. Obviously you'd like to do text formatting, and it's not that tough, really.
Your visit is uneventful. Walt isn't the sort of drinker who goes too far, and since he's paying for yours, you aren't either.
I note that you do have twenty assorted dice, so your idea of practicing with them has merit.
I also note that you reached Durnmist on your one hundredth day aboard ship, during which time you have been working in navigation. This means you've got notable improvements in a number of skills from using them on a regular basis as part of your job--certainly not up to professional standards yet, but finally above rank amateur.
Those will be listed behind the screens.
--M. J. Young
I'm not the sort of drinker who goes too far either. A touch of the rum and I'm good to go.
I'll focus mostly on my six-sided dice, since those are the kind most often used for gambling, unless Walt tells me otherwise. Beyond that, it's back to business as usual after Durnmist.
Your psionic practice now includes tossing dice, trying to follow them with your magnified vision, and trying to bump them with your telekinetic pulse if they don't land the way you want. It's not a very reliable way of doing things, but it does tip the odds slightly in your favor.
A week later there is a general announcement made. It looks like you're still most of a week away from the next port, Tempest, but there are some unusual rules there. A customs officer will board the ship sometime before final approach, and will inspect all quarters looking for contraband--most particularly weapons. All personal weapons must be secured; only security is permitted to carry weapons in Tempest, and then only within a hundred yards of the ship. Anyone else with weapons can find a way to secure them in their quarters (such as nailing them to the wall), or turn them in to security for the stay at Tempest. Failure to do so may result in delays.
Probably you have four or five days before you're close enough to be boarded, but you can't count on as many as seven. What preparations are you making for the customs inspection?
--M. J. Young
I'll entrust SoulMourn - my precious red-finished hand-forged meteoric iron smallsword, a graduation gift from my grandfather - to Walt for safekeeping. It is my only actual weapon. The first time it's been outside my arm's reach since I first Versed out.
I doubt they'll object to my keeping my flute handy.
As for the psionic practice, it's mostly the TK Pulse to flick the dice. The Telescopic Vision was mostly for an edge in reaction time. If it seems cumbersome, awkward, ineffective, or counterproductive, I won't bother. I practice my Telescopic Vision enough while on duty that I don't fear falling behind. (Unlike TK Pulse, it's not a <i>visible</i> effect, so I'm not uncomfortable practicing it in public.)
If it seems that flicking the dice rotationally like I'd originally envisioned doesn't work, or is simply too difficult, it occurs to me that it might be a good idea to focus on the sides of the dice I would want to face downward - the sides directly opposite the sides I need facing - and give that 'downward' side a quick vertical tug at the right moment. Not failing to target the whole die - that is, I'm not targetting just a slice of the die - so much as making sure I poke it downward in the proper direction.
Walt secures your sword in the security lockup.
Twenty hours outside Tempest the customs official arrives. He's brought a crew with him, and insists on considerably more than a perfunctory investigation. Your quarters are searched rather thoroughly twice--not because they're yours, everyone including the captain is getting the same treatment. Notions float among the crew, such as that this guy must be new, or trying to impress someone; or that something got past them recently or they got some sort of warning and they're trying to be extra thorough; or that the guy has it in for the Sardic Trading Company. However, despite the stress, everyone is making an effort (some less effectively than others) to be polite and cooperative. Docking is delayed two hours while they finish their paperwork, but finally they give the ship clearance.
Tempest is a moderately pricey city, where nothing is as cheap as you can get it in some other port, although nothing is as expensive as you would pay in some other port. That is, manufactured goods are more expensive here than in the manufacturing cities but less expensive than they are in primarily agricultural ports, while food is cheaper here than in manufacturing cities but more expensive than where it grows. Again shore leave is permitted, but the reminder is made that carrying weapons in the city is a criminal offense.
--M. J. Young