Tales From Tewanta

Wilson Port, Tewanta - 3306-09-25 07:56 GST Francis Bonetti, manager of the Wilson Port Outfitting and Repair deck, stepped out of the transport pod and into the Station Administration offices. This section of the system was at the outer edge of the coriolis station and had a noticeably stronger artificial gravity from the station spin than the outfitting deck. He was here for an urgent in-person meeting with Progenitor Woodward and he was nervous. He had no idea what it was going to be about: he was told that the topic for discussion was best dealt with face to face. He hoped that he wasn't in trouble. He knew that, in principle, The Protectorate was in favour of staff modifying the procedures and making their ways of work more efficient, but worried that his team may have taken things too far. There wasn't a day where part of the manual wasn't updated, or even rewritten. The outer office was pretty large about ten

Wilson Port, Tewanta - 3306-09-21 04:14 GST Detective Imelda Geldof stood at the large holo table in her department's operations room. It was late. It was very late, so late that in about thirty minutes, it would be considered very early. There was nobody else in the office, which was a frakking good thing in her mind. She was staring at the mind map she had built up of her current murder case. She had been working on this case for nearly five weeks: the murder of a middle aged woman, a quality control automation engineer, in Cromwell Ward. The case had been her obsession for the entire five weeks. The mind map projected in front of her was the holographic equivalent of a cork board covered in newspaper clippings connected by red string. To be honest, it was more like a room full of cork boards covered in notes, pictures, & rumours connected together by a rainbow of coloured strings. Everyone except for her partner, Bre

Ohm Colony, HIP 82030, 3306-08-26 07:46 GST Thomas Whitton, Operations Manager at Ohm Colony, closed the door of his small apartment behind himself and began the walk to the outpost's operations center. It was a short walk to the operations center and but he wanted to be at his post on time. He fully expected to be fired today, but there was no point in giving the new regime an easy excuse. Not that they needed one, he thought glumly: things on the station were a mess. The Buurian Protectorate had just won the latest election after a narrow defeat in an election a few weeks earlier. Tom had been a vocal supporter of the previous regime. He even signed off on the party that the Confederation of Olelbanu had wanted to throw on the station, to sway undecided voters. Space being at a premium on the small outpost, the only places big enough were the hangars, which wasn't an option, and the agri-zones, cramped as they were, w