Mutants & Masterminds:Taken: Brave New World

[The Story Guide]

The shoreline was covered with bodies in every direction, a line of humanity stretched under an orange sky. A moon rose over the horizon of the ocean, impossibly huge and nearly as bright as the small star overhead; day was bright and smelled strange and all along the line people moaned and rustled on the sand. Moving among the line were several strange creatures, like a cross between a horse and an otter, slick dark fur and quadrupedal limbs, but with four vine-like prehensile extensions that were lifting an moving some of the humans from the lines. These humans were neither moaning nor rustling.

Along the beach as well, spaced well enough apart that a person could bare see another when standing next to the first, were thick metallic cylinders, wider across than most men, though smaller than a car. Up and down the cylinders lights blinked different colors and speeds, etched on the side of the columns were simple pictures that curious newcomers might peruse at a later time.

For now, it was enough for the newcomers to awaken and begin to move about. Those that had ever partied too long with alcohol or other, more potent, poisons knew the feeling well: leaden limbs, heavy head and slow thoughts, eyes shut tight against the orange-tinted light, and a headache to rival the worst frat-party morning after ever.

The otter-horses continued their progression down the line, lifting the left arm of each human they inspected; if the armband attached passed inspection, the person was released and the creature moved on. If the armband did not - if it showed no lights and released from the arm when prodded - then the otter-horse pulled the body from the beach line and placed it next to the others that had "failed".

As the alien creatures approached each of you, your arm was lifted and the band inspected. Where the tentacle-like "arms" of the otter-horses touched you with their sucker-like ends, you felt a wave of empathy and a sort of greeting. There were no words, no concept even of language in the communication, but their sense of sadness and camaraderie were made clear. Then you were released and they moved on to the next person laying on the beach.

Click to reveal..

There are perhaps a eighty people on the beach, of which twenty appear to be DOA. The last thing anyone remembers is an overcrowded egg-shaped dark room and alien smells. Each person has an obviously mechanical band firmly fitted around your left arm with several lights blinking or showing steady colors. You are on a sandy beach that quickly turns to loamy earth and moves into a forested area behind you, with an ocean on the other side. If you explore beyond the beach itself, please give me a chance to describe the area, as it may not react like Earth elements.

I'll give you guys a bit to react and interact, though if you want NPC interaction (or I feel like foisting it on you ), I'll jump in.

Characters in this thread:

Matt

James

Ivy

John

Dave

Dustin

[Sven Lorakson]

James groaned and grasped his head, probably being one of the only people on the beach to recognize the probable cause of his headache: severe dehydration. Alchohol, sleeping too long, some drugs, all produced this same symptom simply from drying the body out.

As a result, his first goal was to find potable water. While the 'ocean' might be safe, he wasn't going to risk it without at least checking the tubes first to see if whatever had brought them here had provided for at least minimal physical needs, or if they were all going to die as some crazy experiment run by aliens with absolutely no grasp of Earth biology.

The Ottaurs didn't seem to have anything he could recognize as a language or respond to any of his raspy queries, but unless their body language was completely different from anything he had seen, which he admitted to himself was possible, he didn't think these were responsible for their being there.

Without saying anything to the groaning people he had woken up near, he moved to the cylinders and examined the images on the side.

Click to reveal..

If any appear to be pictures of water, he tries touching his bracelet to the picture.

[The Story Guide]

The cylinder was lined down the side with hundreds of symbols and several lines of colored lights; each set of symbols seemed to be grouped in threes. James found one set that had: one large circle, one large circle with two small circles attached to it, and a strange character made of several different colored lines and shapes. There were many other sets of symbols, but it was the middle set for each three that caught him: high school science...they looked like depictions of simple molecules! The first shapes were always simple, some looked like branches or simple drawings of animals. Several looked like fruits or nuts, and so on. The third set was always more complicated and always colored.

He pushed the section for the water, but nothing happened; he tried pushing several of the others, but still, nothing happened. He tried pushing the symbols in different orders or some of the glowing colored squares before some of the metallic squares. That did get the cylinder to open up once, revealing a seeming hollow inside that crackled into an energy field between the two opened panels of metal. James felt something wrap around his chest and pull him back from the open cylinder, gently but firmly, a feeling of concern flowing through him. One of Ottaurs had pulled him back and then shut the panel again.

It watched him for several long moments, it's large eyes so eerily similar to a horse's, then wrapped a tentacle around Jame's arm and held it up to the cylinder, leaving his hand free to point at what he wanted.

Click to reveal..

INT: Wyrd *rolls* 1d20: 18+5: 23

TECH: Wyrd *rolls* 1d20: 5+14: 19

[Sven Lorakson]

James pointed at the picture that appeared to be water, then focused his thoughts first on a feeling of thirst, then on his headache, then on the feel of drinking, then on the headache being gone. He wasn't certain if they could read anything from him in addition to being able to project vague thoughts/emotions, but figured it couldn't hurt to try.

[Dave ST]

Not a single memory flooded his mind as he fell to the beach on all fours. He dry heaved several times, but all he found was a build up of saliva that dribbled from his lips. He staggered to regain his footing, the world spun and the horizon looked like Salvador Dali face fucked it with a chainsaw.

He leaned against his tube, noticing the band on his wrist. Clubbin', okay, that explains the headache. He swerved to and fro letting the world come into focus. Wait, I don't drink.

But the wild ride wasn't over yet. The otter, uh, thing, uh, dude, uh... whatever it was approached and inspected his band. Had he the strength, he would have taken a swing at the thing. In his delusional state with all the unfamiliar feedback rushing into his mind his instincts told him that this wasn't right, this could be a threat, it was fight or flight.

Given his current state however, all he had at his disposal was witty repartee. Like a drunken fool he raised up his hand and and tried to slowly grab at the hazy visage in front of him. Easily the creature simply just swayed its head back and let his hand fall back at his side.

"Oh God, please tell me we didn't fuck. Not," He staggered to catch his balance. "Not that you aren't special in your way, but, I mean... god damn."

The sight of such strange creature should have placed him right into a panic, but to be honest he didn't have the strength for it. If these monsters wanted to kill him and devour his flesh, the most he could manage at this point was a gurgled scream. At least it'd be quick. "Don't suppose you know where I am, or if there's an IHOP around here..."

[Dustin]

He was pretty sure other than that odd foul smelling room, last he knew, he was on a job. Now he was on a beach, and still in his work attire, that simply would not do. Though groggy and not exactly thinking straight he looks around the silver cylinder nearest him for his bags and/or equipment. Finding his bags in tact near by he seems to edge behind the cylinder enough only to reappear in a few minutes in more reasonable clothing to the situation he was now in.

With a new attention paid to his surroundings, Dustin now took the time to asses where he was as well as the situation. Checking his memory for recent illegal drug use, he wasn't sure if he had walked into a movie set, or a bad hit of acid. There seemed to be others up and about, moving and taking actions around them. Well that meant this was close if not the worst situation he had found himself in yet. Collecting himself and his bags, Dustin starts to look around and take count of what can be used as an asset.

[z-Matt McShae]

A man near the end of the line was dress in naval khaki, his shoes back and shiny. His breast had a few ribbons on it, and the bars on his shoulders marked him as a lieutenant. A guitar case lay to his left, a briefcase to his right. The baseball cap on his head showed a carrier and said, U.S.S. George Washinton.

Matt slowly became conscious; it was a process, filled with pain, discomfort and the kind of hazy memories that usually followed a three-day bender. Not that Matt did those kind of things anymore. It wasn’t that he was too old or an officier; it was that he hadn’t enjoyed them when he was a young man, either. Still, peer pressure was a terrible thing and both of Matt’s wives had enjoyed parties.

And I’m onna beach, he realized, as he finally interpreted the sensations coming to his fingers as sand. His ears began to recognize the hum as the murmur of waves. He opened his eyes, expecting to see blue or gray or maybe storm-green. He was not expecting orange.

“What the…?”

A shadow loomed over him and Matt had a brief glimpse of something animalistic and furred. Jerking to the side, he rolled to his feet, only to stagger and fall as his vertigo reminded him that all was not well in the world. The tentacle the creature had extended toward him dropped without touching him.

“What the!” Matt barely cut off his curse, staring at the creature. He fumbled backwards, then stopped as he realized his guitar was lying next to the creature. The threat to his beloved instrument stopped his retreat. A second later, the galuphagon – which was what Matt’s daughter would have called it – moved away from him, walking to the next person. His guitar was packed in the case, thankfully. Matt shuffled carefully to his guitar – shuffling because walking was beyond him – and rescued it, then recovered his computer bag as well. He checked to see what was in the bag: paper, pens, and his phone. He powered up the phone and checked – out of service area. “Figures.”

Sighing, he began to look around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on here.

[Ivy Callahan]

Oh god... I've been drugged... oh, holy hell... my head...

The thought formed almost as slowly as the onset of consciousness. Appearantly, however, some of her training had managed to stick, and Ivy's next thought was that she shouldn't make any noise or move until she had managed to figure out more of her situation.

She was obviously NOT where she was supposed to be, and the only hazy memories she could muster through the agonizing throb in her head were of what must have been some sort of holding facility for abductees.

This, was NOT good.

Don't tense... don't make any noise... regular breathing... slowly... Ok... where could I be? Wait... sand?

She could hear the moans of other people and possibly... water? The air didn't smell quite right either... That was when something wrapped around her arm. It took all of her willpower not to scream. Ivy forced herself to remain relaxed and offer no resistance to... whatever had wound itself around her arm.

Strangely (and she assumed this was probably a side-effect of whatever drug she had been given), the foreign-feeling touch was almost soothing. She wasn't ready to face the situation head-on quite yet, though, so she stayed as limp as possible, not flinching as the tug on her arm rolled her over and orange-ish light filtering through her eye lids cause the throbbing of her head to intensify, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

Oh god, do not throw up... do NOT throw up!

Ivy couldn't tell if the ground was spinning, or if she was, but the sand beneath her was most certainly not as stable as she desperately wished it to be. Or maybe it was that she was actually being moved... It was hard to tell. Something was most definitely tugging on her arm, though, and it was not helping her feel better.

Click to reveal..

For anyone who is looking around at the other people on the beach, Ivy is a young woman (see: my avatar ) wearing full camo, lying presumably unconscious on the beach near a packed army bag. When the otter-horse-aliens check her arm band she seems relatively unresponsive.

[John Smith]

I woke to the familiar feeling of a hangover, though I hadn't been drinking in at least a day. Last thing I remembered I had been on my way to meet a contact about a job. No, that's not quite right, I vaguely remember a crowded room. Doesn't really matter now, cause wherever the hell I am I'm not in Chicago. The smell of salt water assaults my sinuses, and I fight back the urge to vomit, and slowly sit up.

My eyes scan the beach, coming quickly to rest on the... things. I slide a hand under my jacket, and around the cool, comfortable grip of my pistol. As much as my head is spinning, I know that if it comes to it, I can put the rounds where I need them, but whatever these things are, they don't seem hostile, yet.

As they approach I quickly scan the beach, noting that a couple other people seem to be up and moving about, albeit sluggishly. I quickly appraise them, and aside from the sailor, I don't think any of them will be much of a threat.

I carefully slide the pistol from its holster and check the clip, then check the other holster, also as it should be. Whatever is going on here, at least they don't seem to have taken anything from me. Seeing the creatures checking armbands on the unconscious bodies, I look at my own arm. Sure enough, I have one, too. This day just keep getting better.

I wait patiently for the creatures to come for me, holding my pistol in the hand not attached to the armband arm. They reach for me, and I wait, ready to shoot if needed. A strange feeling fills my mind, compassion maybe? Whatever it is it keeps me from blowing the things away. Apparently satisfied with whatever they were checking, they move on. Leaving me to contemplate my current situation.

[The Story Guide]

James' arm was moved toward one of the squares that had an engraved glyph of one large circle touched by two smaller circles; his hand was actually pressed to what had appeared to be an empty spot next to it. The area lit up a square of orange and a square of orange lit up on his own band, which then faded to slightly more pinkish-orange. A second or two passed and a compartment swung open as if on pivot from one side of the cylinder; inside were several nearly clear containers, much like plastic bottles, except that the top was flat just as the bottom was and there was only a small, darker crescent section that seemed to indicate where to drink from. Next to them was a folded up green backpack-like bag; once all of the items were removed, the section slid back into the cylinder.

Along the beach, the Ottaurs kept up their steady progress through the group. Ivy's band was released, though unlike the other others, the Ottaur that had been with her stayed. Feelings of compassion continued to come through the tentacle-like arms, as well as a sense of well-being that eased the spinning nausea; after several minutes, Ivy could almost swear she was "hearing" a song inside the empathic connection.

For the others, the effects of the whatever were fading slowly and people were beginning to mill about. Those observant (or becoming observant) people noticed that the strange creatures tending to them also carried bands, though these were on their left front leg instead of their "arms". Once all the bodies were separated from the living, the Ottaurs set themselves to one side of the pile of dead; one stepped forward and motioned with its tentacles, extending them fully out and then rolling them back in as far as they would go. It did this several times, then waited silently.

[Sven Lorakson]

James drank some of the fluid, reassured to find that it had almost no flavor, pure water having none at all. Then waited. After a few more drinks and waiting, he thought, "Odd. Usually when I'm dehydrated enough to pass out, things stop looking orange once I get some water in me. So, is this dream, nightmare, reality, or what? Oh well, I may not know where my towel is, but at least I know, 'Don't Panic.'"

Moving towards the others, he began to hand out water to those who seemed the worst affected, saying, "It's water, I think. It should help," and watching what he guessed was some sort of alien funeral service.

He'd never quite gotten funerals, especially his mother's. As far as he was concerned, the body was just a complex robot, with the important part, the operator, the pilot, or the soul, depending on who you asked, having long since departed by the time of a funeral. As such, the body should be recycled for fertilizer. He certainly didn't want his body preserved in a coffin in some waterproof cement box, pumped so full of preservatives it would last for decades.

[z-Matt McShae]

Matt stood in the sand (it was already in his underwear, just how did that happen?!) and began to take note of the people around. The pile of bodies made him wince a little, but he couldn’t focus on the dead. The living were the ones who needed help. In fact, there was one woman lying far too still who hadn’t been taken over with the bodies. She didn’t appear to be moving.

Staggering to her, Matt knelt down next to her, setting his case aside. Uneasily, he felt at her throat, trying not to think about her cute nose or the curly red hair. This would have been much less awkward had she not be easy on the eyes. With effort, he put that out of his mind and focused on her health – she wasn’t reviving for a reason and she wasn’t dead – what was wrong with her?

Click to reveal..

Yes, that is Ivy he’s doing this to.

Treatment check (1d20+4=15)

[Ivy Callahan]

Ivy let her arm drop as it was released from whatever had been gripping it. The strange "song" she was, for lack of a better term, feeling eased the ache in her head and she involuntarily smiled slightly. It made her stop thinking of any of the confusing sensations and memories, if only for a moment, and she truely relaxed.

She was again confused when the all too familiar sensation of fingers on her neck registered, and she opened her eyes. And blinked.

"Huh?" was all she could manage to the man in Naval dress (Why is the Navy here..?) before she caught a glimpse of the Ottaur and squeaked. She sat bolt-upright and tried to edge away from the alien, which incidentally caused her to scoot right into Matt.

"Wha...?" Ivy was at a loss for words, blinking and taking in the scenerey. Her eyes flickered repeatedly back to the creatures roaming amongst the people along the beach, particularly the one by her.

She hesitated a moment, then stammered "Um... Are- err... Is tha-... Wha?" She stared helplessly down the beach.

"Oh, jesus, are those people?" Her eyes fixed on the line of unmoving bodies and her uncertainty seemed to melt away. She groped around in the sand until she found her pack, hoisted it onto her shoulder, then stood and strode purposefully towards the supposed-dead.

Glancing over her shoulder, speaking to both the man and the Ottaur, she called back "Thank you, I'm sorry, but I need to check those people."

[Dave ST]

A lot of people weren't taking it very well, Dave was one of the few exceptions. He knew a dream from reality, and this was reality. He knew that even if he wanted to go home, he'd not be getting there any time soon. He knew that the space Ottaurs, if they wanted them dead, would have done so by now.

Everything was just a strange blur of WTF but seeing that there were other people around calmed his mind into a sense of familiarity. With other humans about he instinctively moved about the area among his own kind, investigating the people and still trying to make sense of everything. He had taken his pack and supplies, but did his best to avoid the aliens, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

As cold as it seemed, while the funeral service took place Dave really didn't pay it much mind. He didn't know those people and death and dying never really phased him much. He began walking in Ivy's direction until Matt made it first, seeing the situation well taken care he approached Matt (not actually knowing the guys name was Matt of course) and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey." He said extending him his hand as came around into the mans field of vision. "Name's Dave, from Tennessee, nice to meet you. You're the only other person I've really noticed up and about. You have any idea what the hell is going on?" He looked to the Ottaur who was with them. "Or what the hell that is?"

Ivy was still getting her bearing and collecting her pack, so he didn't feel the need to bother her with introductions, yet. Matt was mobile and, like Dave, was trying to help a few collect themselves. He hoped maybe Matt knew a few thinks he didn't.

[Sven Lorakson]

James was running low on water, so he approached some of the only other standing members. He handed his next to last container to the woman, then offered the other to the two men standing and talking next to her. "Last one, so which of you gets it? I can show you how to get more, if you like, then maybe you could help me distribute them to the rest of these people. We all need water to recover from whatever this is."

Of course, these words coming from a 14 year old boy sort of destroyed their weight... except for the part about knowing how to get more water.

[z-Matt McShae]

Matt felt some tension ease out of his shoulders as Ivy hiked her bags and walked away. He should go help her, he knew, but all he could feel was relief that she was walking away from him. Still, his conscious was pushing at him and with a sigh, Matt realized he’d have to go.

Thankfully, Dave from Tennessee arrived. “No idea,” Matt admitted, taking Dave’s hand automatically. “All I know is this isn’t Kansas. I’m Matt, from… the USS George Washington, stationed in Japan.” He’d almost said Washington.

Then the boy wandered up, dispensing water. Matt realized with a jolt that they needed to get organized. “Save it. You might be giving away your only ration for who knows how long. Show me how you got that. Dave,” he turned to the other man, “can you help that the Army medic?” He hiked his thumb at Ivy, who was checking bodies. He wasn’t sure she was a medic, but she was acting like she knew what she was doing. “Even if you don’t have first aid, you can be of use.”

[Sven Lorakson]

James lead Matt over towards the cylinders, saying, "I don't think rations will be an issue, as long as we are careful and cooperate. Someone trying to hog all of the rations, on the other hand, could be a problem." As they approached the tubes, he added, "Would you mind pulling up your sleeve so I can see your armband better? It was hard to watch my own when I used it."

At the tubes he pointed at the same spot the Ottaur had him touch. "Just place your hand right here." When Max did so, a square of orange lit up, along with a square of the same color on his armband, which then darkened to a pinkish orange the same as James's had. Nodding to himself, he explained, "I think that these tubes will provide what we need, but only so many times to each person in a given period. However, it also provides more than an individual needs at a time, so I think we will have to work together for everyone to be able to have what we all need. My wager is that it's a test, like in Riverworld. The water really helps get rid of that nasty headache, so if you could help get more people on their feet, I think that will help us all. I'm going to stay here and try to work out what all of the symbols mean." He then turned his attention completely to the tubes, ignoring Matt.

Click to reveal..

Taking 20 on the check, if I am allowed to do so, to study all of the symbols very thoroughly, so 25 if it is a straight intellect check, 34 if it is a technology check.

[Dave ST]

"I know a thing or to," He nodded to Matt. The kid didn't really register on his 'radar'. He had more important things to do that babysit some kid; like chase down that redhead and get her number. "I'll give her a hand. Good luck guys."

He ran off after Ivy, finding it hard to catch up to her given her head start and the trip here still had his muscles and mind tripping balls. "S'cuse me! Ma'am... sir... hot redhead..." He shouted as he closed the distance. The last one seemed to get her attention and Dave smiled as he approached, huffing from a run in a body that still felt half-asleep.

"Hey." He opened with. "Sorry. Didn't know what the formal military greeting was, had to improvise to get your attention." He hunkered over resting his hands on his knees. He managed a grin nonetheless. "Matt, the guy down there, asked me to give you a hand. My name's Dave, how can I help?"

[z-Matt McShae]

Matt was more than happy to let Dave handle the red-head. Following the kid – James – he watched the boy demonstrate how to work the tubes. They opened just as the kid said they would; Matt took his rations and tucked them into his computer bag, for now. After a moment, he opened one of the waters and took a few sips, the water helping his throat. As his immediate discomfort began to fade, he took further stock of their situation.

“Alright, hey, James,” Matt called, getting the boy’s attention again. “Go to anyone who’s up and start teaching them this. Make sure the army woman knows how to do it and gets her rations, too. She seems willing to help others and I don’t want her to forget to help herself.” He paused long enough to make sure that James was going to comply before turning his attention to helping someone else.

[The Story Guide]

While water was being despensed an older woman, maybe in her early fifties, finally screwed up the courage to approach the alien creature. It laid one tentacle-like arm against her cheek, then another on the other side; they stood that way for a little over five minutes before the woman pulled back, frowning. She glanced around the milling humans, homing in on Matt's uniform.

"Um, I don't know for sure. I mean...it's not...I cant." The woman sighed and ran her hand over her face. "I think it's asking what we want to do with the bodies. It..it showed me something about the..." she waved over towards the large alien cylinder "...but I got the feeling that...well, that they do something different. That they don't like that, I think."

The woman's courage flagged, "Sir, do you know what's going on? Where we are? I was just at Wal-Mart, getting my grandson's birthday gift."

[Sven Lorakson]

Without turning away from the cylinder, James said, "You can send those capable over here and I'll tell them how to get water, but really, I'm kind of busy right now. I think I've got a handle on the basics of these things, but I need to study the whole thing to make sense of the iconography. Water was easy."

[Sven Lorakson]

Click to reveal..

I didn't want to double post, but just editing this into the prior post wouldn't draw attention to it, and it has been quite a while since my last post. This one contains information from Malachite gained from my roll to understand the cylinders.

Edit: post held for later at Carver's request.

[z-Matt McShae]

Matt paused, watching the woman closely, wondering what to say. "I don't know exactly where we are or what's going on, but we're going to find out. For right now, we need to work together and get our basics met. For now, help people get up and get water." Before he got much further, he and the woman were interrupted by James. For someone who didn't want to stop working, he was eager to interrupt others going about their business.

I'm adjusting this point so that it makes sense with what Wyrd posted after. Rather than having Wyrd edit again, I just edited mine.

[Sven Lorakson]

Before Matt left to get someone else to help, James said, "Look, this is what I do. I figure out machines, get them working, rebuild them from scratch. I've been winning Battle Bot competitions for years. I found out how to get water, and stopped long enough to spread it out and ask for help. Yes, we need to work together. That's why I tried to get people to come over here; you were just the only one to listen. Knowing what we have to work with is very important--what whoever brought us here wanted us to have, that is." Yes, the voice was a little petulant and lacking in respect--he was 14 after all, but he was a very logical teen. Like many bright kids his age, he took refuge from his incomprehensible emotions in the calming consistency of logic and numbers, and the dependency of machines.

James continued to study the cylinder. The simple symbols were easy enough to figure out, as they represented atoms and molecules. It was the more complicated symbols that were not as simple to work out. He didn't want to waste the apparently limited number of uses he got checking them out, but he needed more to go on to figure them out. With the volunteer bringing people up to moving over and bringing water to those who weren't, he grinned.

Each person was shown a space to touch first. James would remove the item and set it aside, should an item appear, and then show them the button for water. By spreading it out over lots of people, he was able to check most of the features without draining any individual's uses. He made certain that the volunteer only used his band twice, just to confirm that the band did get darker after a second use. Matt's efforts to get people working together improved his hopes that there could be cooperation between the people here. He really felt that if they didn't work together, half or more of them would die, but that working together they could mostly survive.

He obtained from the cylinder something resembling a mess kit, something he thought was food, a roll of fabric that appeared to be meant for sleeping in, and several things that he decided must be tools but couldn't immediately figure out the function for.

He set these out to display what he had learned how to access, and showed anyone interested in one of them where to touch to get one of them for themselves. He could understand a few of them, but in quite a few cases he was reduced to gestures to communicate intent. He tried to explain to anyone who wanted more than a couple of items that it looked like there were limits to how much they could get in given amount of time, but didn't stop them from using up more charges if they insisted. It was just a theory at this point, after all, and what better way to test it than to let the greedy be guinea pigs?

Once the rush of people to get food and water had died down, he set himself to the task of studying the tools to see if he could figure out what they were for.

Click to reveal..

While this does move things forward a bit, it shouldn't interfere with anyone else's interactions. If anyone wants to actually do their interactions with him when he shows them how to use the cylinder, I'll be happy to participate.

Matt, if you have a counter to what I said, I can move what is after it to a subsequent post. The experimenting is kind of necessary, but I can break up the process for other posts if anyone has something they want to say during this time. You may also notice that I revised the original post a bit to be more optimistic. Even if we aren't exactly getting along, your efforts to get everyone working together gives him more hope of it happening. He has no illusions about being able to inspire such cooperation himself.

[z-Matt McShae]

Perfect. The aliens were nice enough to send a brat along. Only a small part of Matt was that upset at the kid; it was as much general anger and frustration at the situation. Resisting the urge to have a 'talking-to' with the young man, he simply said, "You aren't the one who decides what's important." Before the kid could smart-ass something else, Matt walked away, guiding the woman with him. Together, they got a young man up and sent him over to James so he and the woman could help others. This guy was willing to not only get water but to help others get it, leaving Matt free to do what he really wanted to do: reconnaissance.

The naval officer walked to the end of their camp, his eyes traveling over the terrain. Turning away from the ocean, he began to cautiously walk inland. He was careful not to step on anything, and he kept his eyes open for dangers around him. He didn't go far before turning to parallel the ocean and start to circle the camp. He just wanted to get a sense of their immediate environment.