The Lost Goats, 21
Jul. 14th, 2012 02:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerIt would be futile to deny that our heroes approached their next assignment in a sobered, not to say shaken, frame of mind. Adding to their concern was the fact that they had now to deal with a pair of Nyronds. Arioch and Voltimand were, indeed, regarded by many among the younger generation on the homeship as the next Zander and Soren; they were practically inseparable, one was vathatched and the other halfkind, and their success rates had been phenomenal among their peer group. In fact, it was a mystery why they had chosen to leave.
The planet Otslag, the homeship computers' best guess as to their ultimate destination, had been colonised early in the Second Spacing by a motley group of artists, bohemians, dilettanti and other ne'er-do-wells, among whose number had been, entirely by chance, the great Fettorini, perhaps the finest exponent of the art of terraforming of his day. All his skills had been required; the world had been named for its principal feature, the boiling lava that had issued daily from its numerous active volcanoes, and had the colony ship been capable of further flight its crew would scarcely have chosen to commit to such an inhospitable place for their new home. Now, it boasted luxuriant wetlands, forests and plains, the volcanic activity was confined to a narrow strip around the equator, and wildlife had been imported from neighbouring worlds and taken to its new habitat like several million ducks to water.
The colony was run as an anarchist commune, with few laws and fewer moral strictures. Psychoactive substances were openly traded in its market that would have attracted swingeing fines on any other UnAffiliated world in the sector. Esoteric religions abounded, as did superstition of all kinds, and technology was discouraged outside the single spaceport. The annual music festival brought in considerable tourist revenue, and Zander's friends Gestalt had played there on two memorable occasions.
At first sight, indeed, it was hard to see what about Otslag could entice one Nyrond to visit, let alone two...
The planet Otslag, the homeship computers' best guess as to their ultimate destination, had been colonised early in the Second Spacing by a motley group of artists, bohemians, dilettanti and other ne'er-do-wells, among whose number had been, entirely by chance, the great Fettorini, perhaps the finest exponent of the art of terraforming of his day. All his skills had been required; the world had been named for its principal feature, the boiling lava that had issued daily from its numerous active volcanoes, and had the colony ship been capable of further flight its crew would scarcely have chosen to commit to such an inhospitable place for their new home. Now, it boasted luxuriant wetlands, forests and plains, the volcanic activity was confined to a narrow strip around the equator, and wildlife had been imported from neighbouring worlds and taken to its new habitat like several million ducks to water.
The colony was run as an anarchist commune, with few laws and fewer moral strictures. Psychoactive substances were openly traded in its market that would have attracted swingeing fines on any other UnAffiliated world in the sector. Esoteric religions abounded, as did superstition of all kinds, and technology was discouraged outside the single spaceport. The annual music festival brought in considerable tourist revenue, and Zander's friends Gestalt had played there on two memorable occasions.
At first sight, indeed, it was hard to see what about Otslag could entice one Nyrond to visit, let alone two...