Southern Ariel: Bathe River Valley

The Bathe River wends down from the Great Southern Mountains, slowly gaining in volume until it combines with the Song River at TownSong. The pathways of both rivers are harnessed in a series of dams that provide power for the more populace Northern Ariel, and in the end, their combined power flows to the ocean creating a wide deep channel through the terra-formed earth.

Bathe River Valley is fertile and green, and it is here that the dietary staples of the core world are grown and produce. Below the mountainous headwaters of the Bathe River, below two hydro-dams, after it turns from stream to small river, sets BatheGate Abbey, a peaceful holy retreat. Small agri-farms and dairies dot the valley, each careful not to overstrip the meager resources of the planet; under normal circumstances, it is pastoral, idyllic, pristine.

Under normal circumstances.

Fields lie drowned. Lifeless livestock float, bloated, on the surface of black water. Houses lie abandoned, and survivors gather on rooftops, on higher grounds, wet and cold with no surcease in sight.

Bathegate Abbey is dark, barest oil lamps flicker in few windows as the river laps at her wide steps. Within her stone walls, each block lovingly cut from the surrounding sandstone, 45 monks make their way through worried prayers. Forty days and forty nights of rain... The world seems to be drowning figuritively, if not literally.

Welcome to Bathe River Valley. Ask the question if you will, the one the monks breathe but dare not speak... Has God forsaken her?

Sweet Oak Farm (or what remains of it)


Numb fingers, torn and bleeding, scrabbled for purchase on the wet wood. Sodden work boots jammed and slid between the log timbers that made up the side of the barn. The vinyl hay tarp that she'd wrapped around herself fluttered and flapped like a kite in the brutal wind, tossing her seventy-three-pounds-soaking-wet back and forth and sideways.

Her long brown hair slapped, wet and stinging across her face, covering eyes that matched the worn logs under her hands. Inside her shirt, against her skin, trembled her little pair of Netherland Dwarf rabbits, their furry bodies the only warmth she had against the driving storm.

When the main evacuation had taken place, she'd been left behind to watch the livestock. Uncle said he'd come back for her as soon as the water was down, but the water wasn't going down, and Uncle hadn't come back. She didn't even know if they'd made it out to the main road before the lower dam burst.

The night before, the drainage creek had overflowed into the lower paddock and all the calves had drowned as she fought to get them out, swimming neck deep in the filthy brown water. When the irrigation pond burst it's small dam that morning, she'd let the goats loose to fend for themselves, but just hours earlier she'd seen Milly's black and white spotted form swirling lifelessly in the river's current.

The river was out of it's banks, and the barn was flooded up to the low hay loft. Nikita had no choice left but to climb. Her seeking fingers finally found a solid 2x6 beam of the eves and she wrapped her sore hand around it, pulling with all her might.

A scream tore from her lips as a gust of wind caught her, tossing her bruisingly against the timbers, her tentative grasp slipping from the beam. Desperately, she tried to find purchase to stop her fall, the toe of her left boot splashing into the dark water.

The billowing tarp saved her, catching on a nail and offering support as her toes found purchase in a crevice of the log structure. Heart pounding so hard it seemed it would choke her, Nikita dug her fingers into the drenched wood and started once more to climb. If she could just reach the eves and pull herself onto the shingled roof...

She was almost there. Another panting cry ripped from her throat, but this time it carried relief and triumph as both hands found hold on the eve-beams. Muscles screaming, at the end of her strength, Nikita pulled herself slowly upward, kicking one trembling leg onto the roof, her knee sliding on the slick cedar shingles.

No one had come, but Nikita would not give up.

She would not give up. Not yet.

Dolphin One bucks and tosses in the storm, her power so much less than her greater mother ship.

On the side screen, the sensors have been set for infrared heat signature, but the signals are often confusing. A cow might appear to be two huddled people or a dog a child. The going is slow, but they don't dare rush, don't risk leaving anyone behind.

Den Dennis spots them first, leaning out the cargo hatch into the driving rain, hanging from his harness as he films the disaster below, his camera on high-zoom, it's filters breaking the grey of the storm and brightening his vision. Below, family of four on a rooftop, wave for aid.

Looking over Dennis’s shoulder, Ben saw the group of four huddled against the violent storm. Who knew how long they had been exposed to the elements? The crew of Dolphin One would have to assume that at least one of them would require treatment for hypothermia, pneumonia, or a bevy of other ailments.

Triggering the control of his C-Suit’s external speaker, Crowe increased the volume so he could be heard over the raging wind,
”Harley, Mr. Dennis has spotted them! Four survivors at three o’clock on the rooftop! Take us in!”

Shifting his stance so he was addressing Blodwyn, he continued,
”The conditions are going to make it nearly impossible for us properly diagnosis any injury or sickness until we have them onboard! However, if someone is injured, I don’t want to place the onus of triage on the other survivors…we need to be able to communicate with them, and yelling over the storm, isn’t going to work!”

Ben looked around the Dolphin until he found what he was searching for. Pointing at the portable comm unit, he continued,
”Dr. Bardier, if you would be so kind as to secure that comm unit into Mr. Meer’s harness, I believe we will head off any potential snafus with the rescue!”

Moving to the open door, the scientist lifted his left arm and magnetized the band on the back of his hand to the Dolphin…making sure not to disrupt Dennis’s capture equipment with his suit's varying electrical fields,
”Mr. Dennis, if your lens gives you any additional insight into the survivors’ condition, please let me know!”

Muting his external speaker, Ben whispered in the quiet of the C-Suit,
”S.U.E. patch us in to the Dolphin’s atmospheric scanners…I want constant calculations for the potential of further environmental hazards. Use the updated meteorological readings from BlueSun’s satellites to predict incoming fronts, wind gusts, or lightning strikes on our position. In addition, I want you to formulize the likelihood of wind shear given the shifting data you will be receiving from both sources.”

”As you wish, Father.”

Ben readied the winch, as the Dolphin slowly arced back toward the survivors.

Seeing the scientist take charge gave Den a boost of confidence that he hadn't felt before. While filming the miles of brown mucky water where once there had been pastoral farmland, he had become more and more convinced that this was not a rescue mission, but a 'recovery'.

But the sight of survivors and Crowe's confident command were combining to reverse his opinion. After all, this was Med-Acad, and they were the best.

”Mr. Dennis, if your lens gives you any additional insight into the survivors’ condition, please let me know!”

The tinny robotic voice through the speakers of what Den was starting to mentally call The Blue 'Bot Suit (which for some reason sounded like it should be a Paquin jazz quartet) was a bit disturbing with it's flat lack of humanity, but at least it would sound awesome on capture. And maybe he could get Crowe to give a voice over for this scene of the documentary.

Discarding the professional musing, Den leaned harder into the wind as the Dolphin dropped lower, "Gotcha! Looks like everyone's standing. That's a good sign. No injuries I can see, they just look cold and wet. Kids look to be ten or eleven, should be able to harness 'em all easily."

A beat.

"...Hell..."

A beat.

"... is that?"


Another beat as Den adjusted his lense and zoomed tighter, "Woman's got a baby. Little thing. We got a way to harness-lift a baby?"

Blodwyn stiffened visibly at the mention of triage, sure that Crowe remembered Higgin's Moon and was warning her off. She went off to do his bidding without a word. Man saw a little too much sometimes for her peace of mind. Should've gone into politics, he'd have the prime rutting minister buffing his shoes by now.

"Woman's got a baby. Little thing. We got a way to harness-lift a baby?"

Blodwyn's hands stilled for a moment on Harley's harness before returning to giving the comm unit a final, last minute adjustment. "Transport gurney in the back we use for folk who shouldn't be moved." Her hands smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the harness. "Figure we can rig up the straps so it'd be safe for a baby." Her hands dropped from the harness. "Just gotta unfold the gorram thing from the storage cabinets" She bustled toward the back of the Dolphin and quickly set to snapping together the gurney.

"Figure we can rig up the straps so it'd be safe for a baby." Her hands dropped from the harness. "Just gotta unfold the gorram thing from the storage cabinets"


"Sounds like a plan." Den flipped on his high-density spotlight, illuminating the waving resuers, and blinked it twice, letting them know help had arrived. "Meer? How low can you get this thing?"

Even as the shuttle dropped lower, a tall fir tree gave way under the wind, splashing down near the roof where the refugees waited and sending a crease of brown water washing over the roof. Through the cameras lense, Dennis watched the woman's face blanch in terror as she cradled her infant closer.

Den glanced at Crowe, then back over his shoulder at Bardier, and his face set in determination, bright blue eyes turning desperate, "Screw this, docs." His gear was stripped in a matter of seconds and stowed back into his bag, with the exception of the main-cam and illuminating spot, which he kept trained through the storm, "One of has to go down there... I can do it, as long as y'all promise not to let me drown!"

Ben squinted as he assessed the deteriorating condition of the family’s rooftop refuge. As the fir gave way, sending a wave of filthy water over the survivors, he jumped within the confines of the C-Suit, fearing the worst. Immediately his anxiety was belayed as he saw that they had all managed to maintain their precarious perch atop the building, but the scientist’s analytical mind quickly deduced that luck had been the only thing keeping them there. The time for preparation had eroded…action was now the need of the moment.

Before he had a chance to act, a surprise came from the documentarian,
"One of has to go down there... I can do it, as long as y'all promise not to let me drown!"

The rain sluiced off of his visor's treated faceplate and the wind buffeted the small craft, as he turned to regard Dennis. Ben was shaking his head in the negative even before he began speaking,
”We can’t have you risking yourself, Mr. Dennis. This is our job…our mission to the ‘Verse. We will handle this rescue operation.”

As he spoke, he realized his error. The man was right. They needed someone on the ground. Harley was busy just keeping the shuttle in the air, and Dr. Bardier’s skills were best suited inside the shuttle treating any wounded as they arrived, which only left Crowe. However, the weight of the C-Suit coupled with the continuous battery from the elements would make for a much more treacherous descent…and could cost lives. Turning back to Dennis, he saw the sheer determination on his handsome face…and his shake turned to a nod. With a grim smile, he continued,
”Very well, Den…we will do it together.”

Quickly securing the man to the winch’s harness, he tucked the portable comm unit down his shirt,
”When you reach the rooftop,” Ben’s armor clad finger moved in front of Den’s face, ”…no heroics, Mr. Dennis. Secure the woman and child as best you can, but do so as quickly as possible. I have reports streaming in from BlueSun’s NavSats…this is the proverbial calm before the storm. We have a more powerful front moving in quickly, and we need to gather these people and seek refuge ourselves.”

His finger moved from in front of the filmmaker’s face to rest on his shoulder,
”I will not let you fall, Mr. Dennis…your’s is a story the ‘Verse must hear.”

Ben moved to the winch controls, as Den swung out of shuttle dangling from Meer’s pulley system braced against the top of the cargo door. Increasing the volume of the C-Suit, the scientist shouted,
”Godspeed, Mr. Dennis! And remember, if the situation worsens, give me the ‘thumbs up’, and I will pull you back in!”

"We can’t have you risking yourself, Mr. Dennis. This is our job…our mission to the ‘Verse. We will handle this rescue operation.”

Den didn't speak. He merely looked out and down, deliberately emphasizing the desperation of the situation, his eyes speaking for him. Secretly, he was a little relieved when Mr. Crowe didn't argue the point further, because he doubted even his steel will would have stood up to the scientist, and this was no time for a pissing contest.


”When you reach the rooftop,…no heroics, Mr. Dennis. Secure the woman and child as best you can, but do so as quickly as possible. I have reports streaming in from BlueSun’s NavSats…this is the proverbial calm before the storm. We have a more powerful front moving in quickly, and we need to gather these people and seek refuge ourselves.”

"Another front? What is this? The wet version of Hell?" Den joked quickly with a humor that he didn't feel as his harness was hooked to the wench, then turned serious, "Crowe? It comes to it, you rescue them, not me."

He fired a quick wink at Dr. Bardier, "I've survived worse.", another glance out into the driving rain, "At least, I think I have..."

”I will not let you fall, Mr. Dennis…your’s is a story the ‘Verse must hear.”

Slipping the strap of the lightweight portable stretcher around his shoulder, Den dropped out into the storm, Crowe's final words torn away by wind and rain.

It was worse than it looked. As the wench lowered, he swung in the wind like a leaf. Crosswinds caught and tore and only the thee pin connection of his harness kept him from spinning like a top. His feet had barelly touched the roof when the man reached out and steadied him.

Turning, regaining his balance on the slippery roof, Den found all four crying with relief, smiling through their pain. Unhooking the stretcher he threw it down and balanced it on the roof, stating without preamble, "The kids first."

There was no objection from either parent, although the younger boy clung to his mother as Den buckled him into the spare harness and clipped it to the cable, "You just hold on here," He locked the boys small hands around the wide webbing, "And shut your eyes. When you get there, there's a superhero waiting to pull you in! We call him the Blue Knight. Just like outta comic books."

Deep brown eyes, bloodshot in a pale and shivering face, looked up at Dennis with sudden surprise, "MOM! It's Den Dennis! The one with the lion show!"

Den shook his head as he pulled out the com. Every kid loved the expose he'd done on the Persephone Lion Preserve. "So you know I wouldn't lie to you," He winked at the boy, and in his best Screen-Voice called into the com-unit, "Take him up, Blue Knight One."

As the boy rose into the air, eyes squeezed shut tight, he turned his attention to getting the woman and baby strapped into the stretcher, wrapping his own coat over them to protect the baby from the driving rain.

Blodwyn moved to the doorway and peered out around Crowe's shoulder. She could just barely see the young boy in the harness through the driving sheets of rain, spinning like a top as he was buffeted by the howling winds.

She stood up on her tiptoes to look Benjamin in the eye around that ridiculous suit of his. "Ben, what do your reports say about that front? How far away is-" Her next words died stillborn on her tongue as her eyes locked in a shocked, horrified stare over his shoulder. "Gods be good," she breathed, tightening her hold on the door-frame, "this is gonna be rough" Up front Harley agreed with a curse.

The front was already in sight just off the horizon, and approaching fast. The sky was literally black with torrents of rain that seemed to ripple as it fell like heat waves off hot pavement. Harley shouted something indiscernible as a sudden gust of wind slammed into the Dolphin like a blow from a hammer. The shuttle groaned under the onslaught and bucked under her feet, nearly sending Blodwyn tumbling out of the doorway with a shriek, but a second, jarring bump threw her back the other way, spilling her into the nearest seat.

Growling curses under her breath, Blodwyn climbed back to her feet and fought her way back to the door. Grasping hold of the safety handle, she leaned out of the doorway and screamed, straining to be heard over the wind, "Dennis! Move that award-winning ass!"

(Slight god-modding of Harley]

In all of his years, Harley had only prayed once, a two-word murmur for his dying mother. Nothing had happened, not a thing had come for the 'please God' meant to burn away the disease killing her just as sure as a bullet. She'd went on raving and crying thick yellow tears, and had died in a piss-stained bed in the same hospital she'd been born in. Since then, Harley had an adamant doubt in the values of prayer. Past his jokes, easy manner, and copious amounts of pot, Harlan Meer didn't have much faith in anything.

He'd always been a drifter, too. Moving from job to job, girl to girl...never settling, never committing to anything that would last. Now, staring placidly into a storm that had destroyed thousands of lives, Harley finally realized that in forty-four years of living, he hadn't done a single thing worth remembering. No more Meer in the 'verse, unless his brothers had survived the Rim and had set up some franchises there.

"And now I'm gonna get shredded to pieces by a storm that's already killed enough engineers," he thought, and had to laugh. It was such a grand ruttin' end, wasn't it? Swept off...it would happen, he knew. He was a slightly above-average pilot, but all the skill in the world wouldn't be able to stop that rain and that wind.

Harley had a thought, and shrugged as the shuttle was buffeted again. It couldn't do any harm, could it?

"Let us pray," Harley thought, saying it in his head like they said it in the movies. Hell, life was nothing but a movie, right? "Keep us on solid wings, Sky Man, and keep us on solid ground. Let the rain come down..."

"...but let the sun come up. Give us slow winds, fast shuttles, fat children, good food." Harley hesitated, then added, "Good pot, too, if it's no trouble..."

Just words, he knew. But they made him feel that maybe a ray of hand-shaped sunlight would lance through the rain and halt the storm, deus ex machina and all that. If it didn't...well, he was still above-average, wasn't he?

"We better get set soon!" he blared to the back of the shuttle, not taking his eyes off the front. "Else we gonna be seein' if prayin's worth anythin' real quick from now!"

The power of Ariel’s storm smashed against the small craft sending the small Blodwyn flying back into the shuttle, but Ben didn’t worry about his comrade, instead his eyes grew in horror as the small boy on the winch-line started spinning like a child’s top. His shrill screams deafened even the mighty storm, tearing at the cold analytical heart of the scientist. Chancing a glance at the winch, Crowe gasped as the metal line bunched and bounced…jamming in the reel.

”Oh God,” he screamed, the yell amplified by his C-Suit’s speakers.

Magnetizing his boots, he grabbed the steel cable and began pulling hand-over-hand to reel in the struggling boy. As he pulled, he screamed toward the cockpit of the Dolphin and her pilot, Harley,
”Mr. Meer, we have no more time! Lower the shuttle to the roof, we will load them at water-level!”

Under normal circumstances and carrying an adult, the harness holding the small boy would have held without fail, but due to the tossing of the line and the relentless storm, Crowe watched in horror as the child slipped from the harness and fell nearly thirty feet into the murky water below.

Dropping the line immediately, Ben ran to the opposite wall of the Dolphin, screaming commands to his Sentient Universal Executive, S.U.E.,
”S.U.E., initiate H.I.V.E. protocols!!! Emergency prep!! Deploy on my command!!”

As he spoke, the display on the BlueSun crate he had brought onboard began to glow and open.

”Dr. Bardier, rescue those people! Do not worry about me!”

Not waiting for an answer, Ben ran as fast as his C-Suit would allow and leapt out the wide door into Ariel’s maelstrom. As he fell toward the water, he screamed,
”S.U.E., initiate H.I.V.E.!!! Operation – Collection!!!”

Just as he finished, the Blue Knight hit the water with the force of a bomb, displacing the raging sea in a fantastic geyser.

Inside the Dolphin, the BlueSun crate finished opening and a dozen small flat-topped one foot square projectiles swarmed into the air. The B.E.E.s, former Seekers used by the Alliance in the War, whirled in a makeshift cyclone and followed Crowe out into the elements. Once outside the twelve B.E.E.s merged into one larger form, resembling a slab, and came to hover over the spot where Crowe had entered the water.

Den could only watch in horror as the boy fell.

Doubt over came him as the father lunged for the edge of the roof, determined to rescue the child. Only the man's own exhaustion and weakness allowed Den to grab him and drag him bodily back from the edge, "WAIT! Just wait!"

The Blue Knight hit the swirling water and disappeared beneath it's surface followed by... What the hell were those things? For a moment, Den was reminded of his time as a war correspondent, footage he'd taken of Seekers soaring skyward. Then they seemed to merge and lock together.

Crowe had to have a plan. At least, Dennis hoped so. His arm still pinning the desperate father to his chest, he waved frantically for the Dolphin to drop lower.

Knowing that he would likely be chastised for it by the crew later, he activated the emergency beacon on his belt. Hopefully, the Dolphin 2 would be close enough to come to their aid.

Over Dolphin One's comm:

OCC: Slight moddage of Dr. Cheng. Manitou, if you object or want me to change it, let me know.

Maria flinched as the pilot's voice boomed over the intercom.

"Chee we got ourselves an emergency beacon alert from Dolphin One. All it says is crewmember number nine. What would you like me to do, Chee?"

Maria watched as the doctor pirouetted in place, flicking on the nearest intercom. "Roberts, call the Dolphin, see if you find out more information. Track their transponder and relay any signals directly to Dolphin 2."

She turned to Maria. "See? Promised you'd never be bored. Your profile said you've got flight skills. How do you feel about taking Dolphin 2? Cheng and Adelwulf can back you up."

"Y-yes," Maria stammered, not quite answering the question correctly but relaying the information quickly, which seemed to be Dr. Chee's highest priority at the moment. Given time, she would have said, "yes, I have a small craft license, but it's mostly a hobby," or "yes, but I've never flown in weather remotely like this." Thrown into a new situation (what was it the Sister had said about new situations?), Maria felt like a lowly intern just out of University instead of the seasoned doctor that she was.

The answer seemed to satisfy Dr. Chee, as she spoke into the intercom:

""Cheng? Adelwulf? Dr. Villasenor is on her way. Get ready to fly."

"I'm on my way," Maria echoed redundantly, before traipsing off in her ridiculous jumpsuit. Dolphin 2, Dolphin 2... She ran the schematics of the ship she had spent the morning memorizing through her head. She headed out of the cargo area up the spiral staircase to the upper level, past the galley and a few cabins to the passageway to the shuttles. She entered portal labeled Dolphin 2, seeing Adewulf and Cheng prepping the shuttle. Introducing herself to each of them with a smile and a curt handshake, she took her seat in the pilot's chair.

The co-ordinates had already been relayed to the ship's console and the engines were already warm. The rain pounding on the roof of the shuttle was deafening. Looking back, Dr. Cheng gave her the all clear, closing the shuttle's hatch. Putting on her headset, she opened a channel to the Hippocrates and Dolphin 1.

"This is Dolphin 2, we are clear for take-AAAAAGHH!"

The shuttle gave a violent lurch as it unmoored from the Hippocrates II, being buffeted by the heavy winds. Knowing that Sister Catherine was hanging precariously from a steel cage below the main craft, instinct suddenly took over for Maria as she hit the afterburners and steered clear of the larger vessel, looking back to make sure nothing bad had happened.

She spoke into her microphone again. "We're good here, Hippocrates, we're fine... sorry about that," she said, not sounding particularly confident. "Dolphin 1, we are locked onto your position and approaching. Should have visual shortly." Maria turned off her mic and breathed a deep sigh, calling back to the two gentlemen on her craft. "Lo siento, guys. Hope everyone's okay back there."