Log Date: 10/25/98, 10/27/98 Log Cast: Gyles Lee, Tance Vokrim Log Intro: Returned to Ballybran in sadly deteriorated shape following a far too long vacation on Verron IV -- during which he has been separated from his fiancee Kesya As'shoriah under apparently tragic circumstances -- Tance Vokrim has been hustled off into the Ranges at the orders of Chief Meditech Quinn Malloret. Escorting Tance is the black-adapt Singer Gyles Lee, trusted by Quinn as a level-headed individual, but the patient Gyles has found his benevolence taxed by Tance's ravings... and especially by Tance's frantic attempt to search a waterlogged cave for his missing beloved. Gyles has hustled his charge quickly back into the sled and has locked him within, deliberately distancing himself from the older man -- a logical precaution, given the effects of crystal morning song, _especially_ black crystal morning song. But since Gyles sleeps outside the sled that night, he misses the panicked way Tance wakes up alone inside the sled the next morning.... ---------- The door slides open, finally, revealing a rumpled-looking Gyles Lee and the calm morning light with its view of the open ocean beyond. The fire at the foot of his bedroll has long since gone cold, and the Scorian primary is an hour or two above the horizon. Just as the door slides open, the figure of Tance Vokrim practically slams into the younger Singer. Several ringing thuds have been sounding from within the sled for some time, and when the vehicle is finally opened from without, the reason might be readily apparent: Vokrim's been slinging his frame against the hatch, as if this would serve to open up the vehicle when more conventional measures -- such as, for example, working the hatch controls -- have failed him. With a startled howl, Vokrim half-falls out of the hatchway. Uttering a startled oath, the smaller singer stumbles under the weight of the older man, but somehow manages to keep both Tance and himself from crashing into the sand outside the vehicle. Gyles steadies the fellow and steps back a pace, just out of reach, and eyes the man warily. "It's time to sing crystal," he announces, "if you're up to it." Your thoughts often wonder to the pleasant memories of crystal in your hands singing softly to you. "Jade," begins Tance piteously -- really, the man appears to have only one thought in his brain. Well, perhaps two thoughts. He can be seen to swallow as Lee holds him up, brown eyes liquid but with glimpses of comprehension flickering within them. "Wh... cut?" he rasps. "Yes, cut!" Gyles replies. He steps into the vehicle briefly, and returns with two cutters and a lamp. From the side cargo hatch he pulls two empty cartons and tosses them next to the lamp. "There's some nice rose in a cave down there," he comments as he collects equipment. "And it's calling us." Gyles scrounges around the inside of the sled and takes down one of the empty cartons. Gyles scrounges around the inside of the sled and takes down one of the empty cartons. Gyles's Crystal Cutter has left. Gyles picks up the cutter carefully. Gyles looks at you for a moment. Gyles places the climbing equipment on the ground in a neat pile. "Rose," mumbles the older Singer absently. He swallows again, a pained and edged kind of yearning drawing lines across what's visible of his countenance within the whiskers and disheveled mop of his hair. "Yeah... cut... right..." Dazed-eyed, he turns, looking for his own cutter. "Let's get going," Gyles agrees, snagging one of the empty cartons and headng off at a fast pace toward the water. Carton 1 - Gyles has left. Gyles picks up the carton, holding it carelessly. Gyles has left. Gyles's sled The floor of this sled now shines, well scrubbed and sanitized, and a speckled pattern is seen on the tiles. The controls and panels and dials are now wiped clean, and it is easy to see out the front viewscreen. The sleeping area has been swept, the sleeping pad aired out and replaced after a good cleaning. The air zings with the smell of disinfectant and deep clean. This is a 2 person capacity sled. There is room in this sled for 8 cartons, 2 have been checked out. One of the special new engines has been installed, allowing for greater speeds. The console is on. The speaker is off. The auto-scanner is on. A small metal plate is fastened to the upper left corner, you can just make out "Uptight Heptite" scratched into the surface. The weather is fine. A good day for flying. ( Type 'sled help' to see available commands. ) Contents: Climbing Equipment(#7483d) Carton 2 - Gyles GPS Receiver Note from Sami Carisak Dirt Carton 2 - Gyles is unloaded from the airsled. You pick up the carton. It feels so light that you are sure it is empty. [And out then, Tance goes, following Gyles uneasily out to the flat rock on which the sled is parked, then along the rocky beach and into a watery pit... and a cave....] You hunch over a little and start down the passageway, which twists a little, but is mostly straight. It is half full of water and even the ceiling is soaked. After a little while, the passageway opens up into a larger cave, with a pool. You climb out of the pool onto the dry rock. Damp Cave This is a small and damp cave. The air is cool and clammy. The only light in here are the ones you brought along, showing a rough hewn cave with a surprisingly flat surface for the ground. Near the western end of the cave is a pool, from which you entered the cave. The water in the pool is low, letting you see the passageway out of here. Contents: Gyles Crystal Vein Obvious exits: Passageway Your skin tingles with excitement, there is a vein close by! Gyles lights the headlamp and swings its bright glow across the visible face of the ven. From the looks of things, this appears to be a substantial vein, with much of the face hidden below the surface. Somehow, Tance has gotten it together enough to grab one of the empty cartons from the sled, and he's accepted his cutter with a look of deep bemusement in his brown eyes. He's clambered down into the pit with several soft grunts and stiff movements, but there's been a kind of desperation to his motions that lends them an energy akin to a younger man's, and he is practically running by the time he catches up with Lee. Tance skids to a halt, then, shivering, eyes wide. Gyles braces his body for the power surge and turns his crystal cutter on. Gyles splashes a handful of water against the face and wipes away the night's accumulation of sand, then taps the face experimentally to discover its dominant note. Gyles taps the Vein and a pure C note rings in the air. Gyles hums the major C and smiles delightedly. Gyles has left. Gyles clambers into the entrance of a crystal vein site. Crystal Vein All about you can see freshly painted a large black hexagon on a black vertical stem. The vein subtly sings to you in a scale of C. You catch a sparkling glimmer of medium rose. The crystal rings with a sweetness and purity of tone. You get a sense that this is a pretty large vein. Contents: Carton 1 - Gyles Gyles Outside the vein, Tance clambers into the entrance of a crystal vein site. Your thoughts often turn to Ballybran. There comes a sharp, shuddering gasp from Tance Vokrim, as that pure C sings out through the cave. The gasp becomes a groan as he lurches up closer to the crystal, the empty carton dropping from his hands. Then, the grizzled Singer starts fumbling around the rock face for the first glimmers of rose he can reach; once he finds them, he presses his bewhiskered cheek against the rock, the groan turning into a hoarsely sung C of his own. Gyles carefully turns his crystal cutter off and relaxes his stance. Seeing Tance plaster himself against the vein, Gyles resumes his own C note and slings his cutter across his back to keep it dry while he manually excavates more of the face itself. It is probably fortunate that Vokrim hadn't been out here when the rising sun woke the crystal; chances are fairly high that the man would have gone straight into thrall. As it happens, he seems to not need much time to do that as it is, his tortured countenance relaxing towards a blank kind of ecstasy, his eyes closing as he manages to keep up a steady C in concert with the rose-hued rock. About an hour later, Gyles finishes excavating a major section of the vein, revealing a face of medium rose about five meters wide, with Tance at the end nearest the cave entrance. He swings his cutter back around and switches it on. He studies the face thoughtfully, rubbing one hand against his trousers to remove grit before placing it flat against the exposed face to hum a low G note, using the harmonic and his inherent crystal sensitivity to attempt to judge the flaw in the crystal. At last, finally, Tance Vokrim's breath gives out, though the crystal harmonics still washing over him seem to be doing the job of enthralling him quite nicely. Checkered though his reputation might be amongst the younger members of the Heptite Guild, a thralled Tance is a quiet Tance, and the man has yet to show any aggressive tendencies... or, indeed, any sparks of sentience past his repeated and plaintive calls for the ever-absent 'Jade'. Glancing toward the motionless singer a moment, Gyles nods to himself and begins cutting the face, casting more glances toward Tance between each crystal, wary of what the older Singer might attempt should he rouse from his restorative thrall in an unexpectedly violent fashion. Gyles braces his body for the power surge and turns his crystal cutter on. Gyles sets his crystal cutter to C. Gyles sings a pure C. Gyles holds the note strongly and while the crystal sings in return, uses his cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. A very large, medium rose, octagon crystal has left. Gyles picks up the crystal with careful hands. Gyles carefully stores a crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. Gyles sets his crystal cutter to E. Gyles sings a pure E. Gyles holds the note strongly and while the crystal sings in return, uses his cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. A very large, medium rose, octagon crystal has left. Gyles picks up the crystal with careful hands. Gyles carefully stores a crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. Gyles sets his crystal cutter to G. Gyles sings a pure G. Gyles holds the note strongly and while the crystal sings in return, uses his cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. A medium large, medium rose, octagon crystal has left. Gyles picks up the crystal with careful hands. Gyles carefully stores a crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. You seem to no longer hear ANY resonance in your blood, and somehow this is disquieting. The wash of echoing chords that pours through the vein as Gyles Lee begins his cutting pours through Tance Vokrim, too, and his thin frame jerks visibly at the building of sound. His eyes come open again, cognizance wrestling with the blankness of thrall; his voice, rusted and cracked, still somehow manages to hold a true tone as he once more summons the breath for singing. A C rings out from him once more, in a husky tenor. Between cuts, Gyles notices Tance's returning awareness of his surroundings, and pauses his work to gently pull him slightly apart from the vein. "Are you ready to cut?" he asks, searching the man's face for signs of coherence. "It's a fine vein, with little flaw in it." Tance groans, fumbling to maintain contact with the rock face even as the smaller, younger man tugs him backward. "Crystal," he mumbles. "Too long... I... I needed...." With an effort, he turns his head round and looks down at the oother Singer, brow crinkled. "Who're you?" "I'm Gyles," he replies, "Quinn asked me to bring you here yesterday. Let's get to work." Gyles gazes up at Tance a moment, trying to judge his reactions, then gently pulls him toward the cleared section of the face. "I've got a three-chord here, why don't you cut the next few notes?" he suggests in an attempt to bring the man's mind back into focus. Brown eyes peer bemusedly down at the figure before him, as if Tance finds it confusing that someone he does not recognize is being kind to him. A hand fumbles and discovers the cutter slung quiescent off his shoulder, and he mutters in bafflement, "My... my claim? Or yours? Shepherding...?" "Shepherding, yes," Gyles agrees, avoiding the topic of who owns the thing. "You just spent an hour communing with the crystal." He gestures toward the face, the regular shapes cut from it revealing the recent removal of several octogons. "Rose isn't worth much right now, so I'm cutting the largest possible octogons." Another little groan escapes the older Singer as his gaze falls on the shapes cut out of the rock face. "Rose," he repeats, as if by rote. "Octagons... what's the scale? C..." Unaware that he's just answered his own question -- perhaps not surprising, given that he's been singing that note for most of the time he's been in thrall, Tance stumbles closer to the rock face, hesitantly lowering his cutter off his shoulder. You turn on the cutter, bracing your body against the power that surges through the handle. Gyles steps back, out of harms way, to watch over the befuddled fellow's somewhat clumsy movements. Cutter.... on. Set the note.... C, right? Then look up, find the place to cut, sing the note, cutter blade to crystal face.... Tance mutters much of this step-by-step litany to himself, his expression once again poised between awareness and distance, comprehension and absence. His cutter comes on with a cough, apparently as rusty from disuse as its owner. You no longer hear any resonance in your body, and somehow this makes you uneasy. You move your finger towards the on-switch of the cutter but realize it is already on. You set the cutter to C. You sing a pure C. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is large in size and is perfect. Both Tance Vokrim's cutter and Tance Vokrim himself, though, seem to remember their job even if Vokrim's brain is on vacation in regards to just about everything else. A large octagon is birthed into being by the Singer's efforts, and with a longing groan, Tance catches it in one callused hand. "Cut and pack!" Gyles reminds the man as he nudges the first carton closer to Tance. "You've thralled enough for one morning." "Pack," mutters Tance reflexively, "gotta pack..." Dazed-eyed, he turns with the crystal in one hand, the cutter in the other, looking for the nearest carton. It costs him a visible effort, but he jams the octagon into the carton's protective internal webbing, his shoulders shaking as he does so, but his hands as steady as the cave walls. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. You set the cutter to B. You sing a pure B. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is large in size and is perfect. Cut and pack... cut and pack. The exercise seems to work further to rouse Tance Vokrim, though his eyes remain a little vacant even as he mutters the familiar litany over and over to himself. A second large octagon is sliced into existence, and the grizzled Singer with the same effort forces himself to pack this one, too. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. This is a infrasonic cutter which has been carefully fitted for the Crystal Singer, Tance Vokrim. There is a sturdy power grip crafted precisely to the dimensions of his hand. His name has been incised in neat letters on the plas housing that covers the infrasonic blade. The cutter is currently set to the note of B. This cutter is starting to look rather worn and should be serviced soon. Gyles snags the filled carton and closes it tightly. He puts it near the entrance and looks up to notice that the entryway is beginning to fill with water. "Tide's coming in," he warns, "but we have time to fill that other carton." The tide... the tide! For a moment, Tance snaps his brown gaze up, almost alertly, lookiing in that instant like a much younger man despite his gray-streaked, disheveled mop. "Next chord," he mutters hoarsely. Well, that's a very good sign, thinks Gyles. He's aware of the danger. "Plenty of time for that, and maybe for another carton besides," he nods, watching Tance carve crystals from the face with a steadiness that's surprising for one fresh out of thrall. Every now and again your mind wanders to thoughts of freshly cut crystal humming in your hands. "Can't short the cutters," mutters Tance absently. He turns back to the rock face, continuing the rambling dialogue... or monologue, perhaps, for save when he's actually looking at his companion, one might doubt whether he's aware that Gyles is even there. "B's cut... gotta do... D... yes, D...." You set the cutter to D. You sing a pure D. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is large in size and is perfect. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. Gyles keeps a careful eye on the water level at the entrace while Tance cuts enough to fill the two cartins. Otherwise he sits quietly, watching Tance sing crystal. You set the cutter to F. You sing a pure F. You don't think that you can get a crystal of that size out of the vein. "Damnation," comes a gruff curse out of Vokrim, as he tries to cut another large crystal and seems to find his efforts hampered by the remaining expanse of rose rock still visible. He sways a little on his feet, then doggedly applies himself to cutting crystal a grade down in size, sucking in a breath and letting it out on an F. Practice seems to improve his voice; at least when he sings, something of the ragged edge leaves it. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is medium in size and is perfect. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. You set the cutter to A. You sing a pure A. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is medium in size and is perfect. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. You set the cutter to C. You sing a pure C. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is medium in size and is perfect. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. You set the cutter to E. You sing a pure E. You hold the note and while the crystal sings in return, you use your cutter to extract a octagon from the vein. The crystal is medium in size and is slightly flawed. On the next crystal, the cutter whines, as its blade strikes a flaw in the rock. His teeth going on edge, Vokrim mutters imprecations to himself, along with snippets of the instructions and training that must -- as they have been done for every Singer of the Guild -- have been driven deep into his brain, out of the reach of crystal-induced damage to his memory. The crystal vibrates slightly in your hands. You carefully store the crystal into a carton, making sure it's packed securely. The carton is now full. Gyles continues to watch, unworried by the amount of flaw in the vein, since it's rock bottom in value this month to start with. The sight of that muddy cloud causes a sense of alarm. Even though no signs of a rain storm are present, you still have a foreboding sense of danger. Tance stirs at last, the carton full, his expression strange. His gaze snaps up, then, and although the sky is not visible within this cave, the direction of his attention is skyward. "Whuzzat?" he mutters. Gyles rises and strides to the entrance, peering outwards. "Storm rolling in," he answers, "judging by those clouds." He turns and snags one of the cartons. "Let's go check the Met report." Gyles carefully turns his crystal cutter off and relaxes his stance. Carton 1 - Gyles has left. Gyles picks up the carton, holding it securely to his chest. "Out," mutters Vokrim, thickly. "Out..." He snaps off his cutter, his gaze still absent, his motions by rote as he reaches for the other carton and starts stumbling out of the cave. You carefully turn the crystal cutter off and relax your stance. Gyles's sled < Desc deleted > The wind is picking up, making it a little more difficult to fly. ( Type 'sled help' to see available commands. ) Contents: Climbing Equipment(#7483d) GPS Receiver Note from Sami Carisak Dirt Gyles has arrived. Carton 2 - Gyles is loaded in to the sled. You set the carton down with care. Gyles sets the carton down with care. Once inside the sled, Tance unsteadily drops the carton and cutter alike, lurching against one bunk before sliding down hard to the floor, seeming spent. You step back further into your shelter and fight the sudden urge to run away from this storm that you know can be every bit as dangerous as one made of rain. Intellectually you know you will be safe inside, but the symbiont argues to be safe far away from here. Gyles stows the carton he'd carried up from the beach, then slides into the pilot's seat to toggle on the console and check the weather report. He turns to glance at Tance in time to see him slump to the floor, just as another stab of warning makes his shudder. "Go, gotta go," Tance groans. But his head comes up again, his gaze pointed at the hatch, and all at once he cries roughly, "Jade--" With the sound of the storm ringing in your head, you find that you cannot go close to the outside without a terrified urgency to run and hide. Gyles hurridly thumbs the door control, causing the main hatch to slide shut before Tance can dive back outside. "Jade isn't here, Tance!" he reminds the man. "Stay inside, we'll be fine in here if you don't panic." Gyles locks down the controls and strides to the galley to whip up something fast and distracting, for surely both men are ravenous after a full morning's efforts. "Here, take this," he orders, handing Tance a self-heating tin of stew, the tab already popped to initiate the heat. "Biscuits are coming up." The overwhelming urge to hide diminishes as the storm passes on to another area. "I gotta find her," the older Singer insists, his gaze swinging up to the younger man, more coherent now than it has been before with these insistences of his, and more sharply pained. "I gotta... I gotta..." Then he trails off, as the tin is handed him, taken aback. Every now and again your mind wanders to thoughts of freshly cut crystal humming in your hands. Your symbiont sleeps once again as the danger of the storms passes from your awareness. The storm warning signals all stop and a green light is displayed on the console of the sled, indicating good weather. The storm warning signals all stop and a green light is displayed on the console of the sled, indicating good weather. Gyles pulls hot biscuits from the caterer and tosses one of the hot morsels toward Tance, aimed to land on the bunk rather than the floor should the man miss it. "Yes, you do, but Medical won't let you off planet in the state you're in," he points out. "Eat your stew and rest a bit." Gyles follows his own instructions by snagging an extra biscuit and settling into the pilot's chair with his own tin of steaming stew. The lucious aroma fills the enclosed cabin, mingling with the warm-bread smells from the caterer. It is apparent that of the things that can break through the recurring theme of 'must find Jade' in Tance Vokrim's limited conversational skills, crystal and food rank one and two on the list. Tance gives the hot stew -- and the hot biscuit thrown his way -- a look almost as longing as the one he'd given the rose crystal face, and after a moment, he seizes up the biscuit and starts dipping it in the stew. Still, though, a troubled look crinkles his features, and he mumbles, "This is Ballybran...." "That's right," Gyles agrees around a mouthful of meat and biscuit. He watches Tance out of the corner of one eye as he consumes his own meal, with an occasional glance out the front viewport to check on the passing cloud cover. "I... didn't lose her on Ballybran, I was..." He trails off, chewing stew-dipped biscuit absentmindedly, though his consumption of the food is done at a quite steady rate. Tance's brown eyes turn liquid again, deeply anguished. Between swallows he mumbles. "Someplace else... curse it, can't remember..." "Medical would know," Gyles suggests as he rises to take another biscuit from the caterer. "But they didn't tell me about it. Privacy, you know." He sits back in his seat and takes a bite from the biscuit. "Privacy," echoes Tance, pronouncing the word as though it's unfamiliar... or perhaps somehow distasteful... to him. "No... I... I guess they wouldn't..." With the stew tin in his right hand, he unthinkingly starts pawing at his jumpsuit with his left one, reaching for his pockets. His meal finished, Gyles rises and tosses the empty tin into the vehicle's recycler. Turning to see Tance struggling with his clothing, Gyles gently takes the other man's emtpy container from his grasp and tosses it as well. The well-stocked galley then produces two Yarran beers, which Gyles opens. He turns, then, holding the two beers and watching Tance curiously. "Can't find it," Tance mutters to himself in consternation, seeming to barely notice the younger man's discreet removal of the stew tin. "Can't find what?" Gyles asks, leaning against the side of the bunk at Tance's side. "A holo of Jade?" he guesses. "I didn't notice anything in those pockets when I packed it for you." He offers Tance the second beer as he takes a sip of the other. "Datapad," mutters the older man. Tance then blinks, staring at the proferred beer as if he's never seen its like before. Occasionally, your thoughts turn to your claim sites. Gyles ahs, and roots around on the bunk, uncovering the missing datapad from under the rumpled blankets. "Thought it might be in there," he comments. He takes another long slug of beer and glances outside at the sky. "It's clearing up nicely," he says, gesturing with his bottle toward the window. Tance stares long at the beer he's been given, then tentatively pops it open and sips at the stuff... but seems to forget it as soon as he catches sight of the pad. With a husky moan, he surges up enough to grab at it, snatching it out of the younger man's hands and immediately trying to turn it on... to no avail. Vokrim must be perenially hard on his possessions, for this datapad, tossed casually into the bottom of the closet from which it had been recovered, appears to be broken. The man's face palpably falls as his efforts fail to bring the thing into life. Gyles sips his beer, watching Tance fiddle with the datapad, and sees his disappoint as the device turns uncooperative. While curious about the expected contents, he doesn't inquire of the man what it once held. If Tance even remembers what the little mechanism ought to have on it. With an expression that a small boy might wear when told his favorite pet has just died, Vokrim slides the thing into his pocket. And only then does he seem to remember he's holding a beer. He swallows down a mouthful of it, and mumbles in evident surprise, "'Sgood..." "Yes, it is," Gyles agrees as he drains his own. "I keep plenty stocked, too, when I can afford it. Which I can, at the moment." He snags another cold brew from the galley and pops it open. "Drink up!" "Okay," murmurs Tance in that oddly childlike warble, lifting up the bottle again to slug down some more of the Yarran brew. He shifts position where he sits on the sled's floor, one leg curling up under him, intelligence struggling into being in his weathered face. The two men drink their beers, and Gyles considers the problem of getting Tance functioning as quickly as possible. With the tide now rising, cutting more of the rose would be a hazardous exercise. Finally, Gyles nods to himself, decision made. He finishes off his brew and tosses the empty bottle in with the others. "Let's go find another vein," he says, sliding into the pilots chair and activating the vehicle's various systems. The engines slow rising whine is barely audible in the cabin as he goes through the usual fre-flight checklist. "Strap yourself in." Occasionally, your thoughts turn to your last cut of crystal. Perhaps it's the younger man's calm, steady instructions; perhaps it's his gentle demeanor; perhap it's simply the fact that he's given his charge hot food and a beer. Regardless, Tance fixes his earnest, plaintive regard on Lee and bobs his disheveled head, hauling himself up stiffly to his feet, hastening to the other seat and settling into it without a murmur of complaint or protest. Gyles tightly straps the cartons to the insides of the sled. [The sled lifts off into the air under the direction of her pilot, and then Gyles settles his craft into a long search over this section of the Ranges. As they go, the two Singers occasionally spot signs of other Singers' paintmarks, but for a while, the search yields no other results...] Time passes quietly as Gyles and his passenger search the ranges for crystal flash. Quietly, indeed; Tance Vokrim might have recovered a few glimmers of intelligence from those hours spent singing the rose, but it has not noticeably improved his sociability. If anything, it's turned him rather gruffly shy, if his expression is any indication. He sits in restless silence in the passenger seat, occasionally fiddling with the safety belt fasteners -- without undoing them -- or running a hand through his wildly untrimmed hair. Quiet suits Lee just fine, being a loner himself. He flies onward, scanning the ranges carefully for likely-looking spots with a patience gained from long hours of practice. Occasionally, your thoughts turn to your last cut of crystal. One word eventually breaks Tance's silence, and that one word is "Green...." Gyles looks over at his temporary partner. "What was that?" "Can't sing green," mutters Tance. "No? Why not?" Gyles asks curiously. "Oversensitive to it?" The older man nods slowly, distantly, his face set in anxious lines. "Can't cut green... I'll forget again. Can't forget, I have to go find Jade, so I can't cut the green..." Gyles nods thoughtfully. "Okay, that shouldn't be a problem. If we find that next, we'll give it a miss." He turns his attention back to the view outside. "Miss it," agrees Tance, apparently reassured. He then peers at his companion, and abruptly adds, "You... keep reminding me. About the shepherding. I'll forget, if we're singing the crystal..." A small smiles flits across the younger singer's face. "I'll keep that in mind," he says with a glance back as Tance. "With any luck we'll find something more valuable than rose." "Just... don't let me forget... please..." Is that fear in Tance's voice? He shoves his hand through his tumbled hair again, pushing the thick locks out of his eyes, only to have them fall almost back into the same disarray when his fingers are out of the way. "I won't, don't worry about that," he reassures Tance. "Quinn wouldn't let me hear the end of it." Suddenly he points out the window, "Look, someone's found a claim. Perhaps we'll find something nearby." "Quinn," mutters the older Singer. "The... doctor?" There's another glimmer of sentience in his dark eyes, a hint of something that might be curiosity that draws his attention out to the distant paintmark. "Crystal...." Thoughts of your claims pass through your head every once in awhile. "Head Medico," he agrees. "Generally a nice guy, at least compared to some of his staff." "I don't remember 'em," Tance mutters, his voice low and rough. After several minutes of flight, Gyles responds. "I don't know many of them, either. I avoid going down to that level." "But you remember.... Quinn," points out Vokrim. It's far too mild a statement to be called an argument... but still, it hints at reason beginning to function in the older Singer's brain. "Sure!" Gyles grins. "He's been the department head for years, and he's always the one that calls me down to shepherd underdrawn Singers." He glances over at Tance, "I remember Elrick, too." He turns his gaze back to the ranges. "He's a sadist, I think." Tance's face darkens; of course, a lot of the Singers, older and younger alike, are prone to argue that _all_ of Medical is staffed by sadists, but still, the use of this term seems to disturb Vokrim somehow. "Don't remember him," he growls lowly. The pilot shrugs slightly, "That's understandable. You weren't in the best of shape when you last saw him." "I..." Vokrim pauses, a look of profound embarassment and humiliation beginning to steal over his features. He lowers his gaze down to his battred form, and mutters at last, "I know..." [Gyles keeps flying, and the two men fall into silence; Gyles is not particularly talkative to begin with, and his companion is even less of a conversationalist. Tance falls asleep, lulled by the steady drone of the sled's engines, and is not roused when the younger Singer spots a promising looking section of terrain...] Suddenly, the airsled makes a sharp banking turn. Gyles circles a collection of barren hills, peering intently at dark spots in their sides. [And eventually....] Gyles brings the sled to a gentle landing. Gyles has left. Gyles has arrived. Climbing Equipment has left. Gyles gathers all of the climbing equipment up. Gyles's Crystal Cutter has arrived. Gyles sets the cutter down. Suddenly, the airsled makes a sharp banking turn. Gyles circles a collection of barren hills, peering intently at dark spots in their sides. He quickly locates a safe place to land and brings the sled to an gentle touchdown. Tance had fallen into a doze; now, as the sled comes in for its landing, the man jerks in his chair, mumbling indistinctly. Gyles glances over at his sleeping companion as he slides out of his chair, and bites off what he was about to say, preferring to let the frazzled singer doze. He quietly collects his pack of gear, leaving the cutter beind, and slips out the door. Gyles has left. Gyles has arrived. Gyles places the climbing equipment on the ground in a neat pile. Gyles dropped Katz lamp ON. Gyles turns the lamp off and takes it from his head. There is an audible click as you switch the lamp off. The humming from the battery stops and the light begins to dim. Gyles sets the small communicator down. The glow of the bulb slowly diminishes and is once again dark. It isn't long before Gyles returns to his vehicle. He quietly rummages behind his chair for some paint and disappears outside for a brief moment. He slips back inside and lifts off again, the sleeping singer in the passenger chair none the wiser for the detour. Deep green, he found, in a cave nearby. Hours of flying pass. As they do, Tance Vokrim continues to doze, apparently in need of undisturbed slumber as much as he's needed crystal resonance. But eventually the man stirs uneasily in the chair into which he's harnessed, his brow crinkling as he slumbers, broken fragments of syllables softly escaping him. Gyles frowns as unruly crosswinds buffet the airsled, fighting to keep on his desired course, a regular search pattern over the area where he spotted crystal flash. He glances at Tance, dozing in the passenger seat, and decides to have the fellow fly in the bunk next time. "J-Jade?" mutters the older Singer uneasily, one hand fumbling at empty air, a frown darkening his slumbering countenance. Perhaps he senses the sled's buffeting. "Honey... hang on..." The words are barely audible, but they are fraught with urgency and desperation. [Tance's dreams remain uneasy... but there's not much the younger Singer can do about them, when he's trying to fly. Eventually, however, a loud noise -- and the shifting of the sled -- penetrates the veil of dreaming.] A buzzer goes off and the scanner light shows green, indicating that a landing spot has been found. Gyles brings the sled to a halt. Every now and again your mind wanders to thoughts of freshly cut crystal humming in your hands. The sled swings back around as Gyles spots a landing spot, and comes to a cover just above the ground. He gives the area a scan, rotating the vehicle in place, then commits to a landing. Gyles brings the sled to a gentle landing. "Jade!" This bursts out of Tance rather more loudly than his previous mutterings, and only the fact that he is still harnessed into the chair he's been occupying keeps him from slamming into the control panels before him as he tries to surge to his feet. His weathered face wild with terror, he fumbles at the straps unthinkingly. There are drops of sweat glistening on what's visible of his brow and cheeks. With a start, Gyles pushes Tance back into his seat with an arm across the man's chest. "Hey, calm down!" he almost barks. "You're safe here, remember?" From the look of him, it would seem that Tance doesn't remember that, not in the slightest. He shoots frantic glances in all directions, a hard swallow rippling visibly along his throat, even as the younger Singer's superior strength settles him bodily down again. "I... where... sled," he finally mumbles uncertainly, his voice reduced to a frightened croak. "Where?" With a calm, steady tone Gyles reminds the frazzled singer where he is. "You're in the ranges, with me. Quinn sent us out together yesterday." He settles back into the pilot's chair, watching Tance for any sign of further panic. "Do you remember cutting rose this morning?" The older Singer stares mutely at the younger, and then proffers a slow, hesitant nod, his dark eyes still haunted from whatever dream had seized him. Gyles nods approvingly as Tance calms down. "Nightmare, huh?" he comments as he begins to gather his survey kit again. "I just landed us on a promising site. Do you want to explore it with me, or stay here and rest?" He stands near the door, kit slung over one shoulder. "It's up to you." Gyles looks at you for a moment. Vokrim runs a shaking hand over his face, then shoves it through his already wildly disarrayed hair, doing nothing to improve its tangled state. He nods unsteadily to Gyles' question, and keeps nodding, mumbling huskily, "Come... with you... I'm okay. I'm okay..." He sounds as though he's trying to offer reassurances, though whether to his companion or to himself is anyone's guess. With a nod, Gyles thumbs open the hatch and steps out into the late evening air. He stands there, scanning the surroundings carefully, using his singer senses to detect the sweet pull of raw crystal in the area. Gyles has left. You step out from the cramped interior of the sled "Uptight Heptite." On the Hillside Nestled in the crags between a mountain to the northeast and one to the southwest, this winding gully descends into half-shaded gloom. Chance - or misfortune, depending on your point of view - has situated this little ravine exactly so that every passing wind whistles right up its length. As Scoria descends past the western horizon and evening falls, the shadows grow thicker between the gully's walls. Here, a ways up the southwestern cliff, there is a wide ledge with _just_ adequate room for a Singer's sled to land. Tenacious bits of greenish-brown shrubbery provide a marginal bit of relief from the starkness of the rock-strewn ground. The only ways to go, unless there's a sled or skimmer to take you aloft, are down into the gully to the east or up and south to the ledge above. Contents: Gyles Gyles's sled Obvious exits: Narrow Ledge Gully Tance staggers out of the sled, rather hastily, making a small anxious noise in the back of his throat as he follows the younger Singer. One might wonder whether he's desperately trying to keep Gyles in sight. Gyles steps into the airsled "Uptight Heptite." Gyles has left. Gyles steps out from the cramped interior of the airsled "Uptight Heptite." Gyles has arrived. Gyles scrambles up to the ledge, further up the hill. Gyles has left. Gyles climbs carefully down from the ledge above. Gyles has arrived. Gyles carefully makes his way down the eastern slope. Gyles has left. Carefully, you make your way down the eastern slope, dislodging small rocks as you go. West End of the Gully Nestled in the crags between a mountain to the northeast and one to the southwest, this winding gully descends into half-shaded gloom. Chance - or misfortune, depending on your point of view - has situated this little ravine exactly so that every passing wind whistles right up its length. As Scoria descends past the western horizon and evening falls, the shadows grow thicker between the gully's walls. Coming out of a crack in the northwestern face is an eager little gurgle of water, which trickles steadily down to your left to flow further on through the gully. Only the side of the water you're on is walkable, a narrow, gravelly strip of land. Westward is the slope that curves up the southeastern cliff; in all other directions the rock walls close in narrowly around you. Obvious exits: Up the Hill You move in for a closer look at the rocks... ... and you quickly realize that there is no climbing the sheer, jagged walls in this part of the gully. You'll have to search for another way to continue on through. Suddenly, in your explorations, you spy a narrow crevice leading off southeastward along the gully. You tread through the gurgling waters of the streamlet as you squirm through the narrow crevice. Narrow Crevice Nestled in the crags between a mountain to the northeast and one to the southwest, this winding gully descends into half-shaded gloom. Chance - or misfortune, depending on your point of view - has situated this little ravine exactly so that every passing wind whistles right up its length. As Scoria descends past the western horizon and evening falls, the shadows grow thicker between the gully's walls. Most of the ground here is actually the waters of the streamlet that runs through this gully, an inch or two deep as it swirls around. The walls of the ravine to either side are jagged and uneven, and actively sharp in some places to unwary fingers, as if this hole in the rock was birthed not all that long ago by the planet's standards. The one way out seems to be the narrow crevice out to the northwest. Obvious exits: Northwest You listen, realising that all of the resonance is now gone from your body. You move in for a closer look at the rocks... ... and you realize rapidly that you can't climb the walls here. You'll have to keep looking for another way on down the gully.) Distracted from your explorations of the rocks, you find yourself glancing east...and you note the lay of shadows and the steep drop of the gully there. Maybe, just maybe, there's enough room to continue on down there. The water deepens around your feet as you clamber down into the end of the gully. East End of the Gully Nestled in the crags between a mountain to the northeast and one to the southwest, this winding gully descends into half-shaded gloom. Chance - or misfortune, depending on your point of view - has situated this little ravine exactly so that every passing wind whistles right up its length. As Scoria descends past the western horizon and evening falls, the shadows grow thicker between the gully's walls. Here, the gully you've been following comes to an abrupt, narrow, and soggy end, as the waters of the streamlet burble calf-deep around your legs before vanishing down into a crack too narrow for a human body to traverse. The footing is questionable here, as every other step causes the gravelly sand just under the water to suck at your feet. Probably, no one besides a Crystal Singer would come here... but then, to a Singer's practiced senses, there's something promising about these craggy walls. West and out into the gully is the only visible exit. Contents: Gyles Crystal Vein Obvious exits: Back Out The symbiont tickles the hair on the back of your neck, but it's not a weather warning, it's an excited, pleasant sensation. Crystal must be near. Looking carefully around, you don't notice any paint marks claiming this vein. The vein subtly sings to you in a scale of D flat. You catch a sparkling glimmer of pure black. The crystal rings with a sweetness and purity of tone. You get a sense that this is a medium-sized vein. Hearing a splashing aproach, Gyles glances toward the opening in the crevice, momentarily blinding Tance with the glare of his headlamp. He quickly looks away with a sheepish apology, and points his lamp back at the vein itself. Tance comes stumbling into the gully's end, and a subliminal crackle in the air halts Tance even as the lamplight flashes into his eyes. The man lets out a little groan, and hears it echo back at him; the sound makes him stagger blindly closer to the rock, his senses tugging him toward crystal even if he can't quite see it. Gyles steps to the side, out of the groping singer's path, and lays one palm flat against the face. He hums a soft, experimental note, and gasps softly at the harmonic response he feels in his bones. The rumbling of the rock provokes a sharp little cry from the older Singer. His vision returning from the lamp's momentary blindness, Tance blinks at the glints of crystal before him... only to see more darkness. Blackness. And at the sight of it, he begins to tremble, falling to his knees. The unexpected thud prompts Gyles to turn away from his own caress of the lovely vein, to find Tance on his knees before the vein. "Oh, wonderful," Gyles mutters, and abandons the vein's attentions completely to stride back to Tance and haul him back to his feet. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, gazing with some concern into Tance's eyes, and bearing more than a little of Tance's weight on his own arms. The Singer's eyes are clouding over -- but with something that looks suspiciously like grieving tears, rather than his consciousness buckling under to crystal-induced fog. "Black," he mumbles. "This is black..." Unaware of the significance that black crystal has for the shaken singer, Gyles responds with the first reasonable thing that comes to him, an attempt to reassure Tance. "That's right, it's black crystal. I felt it!" Tance might be rather thinner than is healthy for a man of his height -- but still, he's seven inches taller than the younger Singer, and propping him up is still rather awkward, and he can be felt to be trembling violently. His expression a stricken one, Tance sways where he stands, babbling out in hoarse and broken tones, "S-she should be here... black's hers, she should be here, she sings the black, but I-I-I lost her, she fell and I-I... I..." He trails off, the outburst ending in a strangled little choking noise. Thoughts of your claims pass through your head every once in awhile. "Who, Jade?" he asks, and wishing he knew more of psychology, and wondering if he shouldn't haul Tance bodily back to the sled and get him away from whatever it is here that's set him off. "What happened?" "My fault," the older man groans, his weathered face a mask of agonized guilt, brown eyes now brimming with tears. "I d-d-don't remember... but I-I-I couldn't find her... my fault, all my fault..." Oh, great, what do I do with him _now_? Gyles eyes the man a moment, then comes to a decision. "Come, let's go back to the sled," he says, turning them both toward the crevice but waiting a beat to see if Tance will move on his own. "I think we both need a beer." With another strangled little noise, Tance does turn. And he does more than turn: he flees, stumbling away from the black crystal face as if he can't bear to be in its proximity. [And very shortly...] Gyles's sled < Desc deleted > The weather is fine. A good day for flying. ( Type 'sled help' to see available commands. ) Contents: Gyles's Crystal Cutter Carton 1 - Gyles Carton 2 - Gyles Note from Sami Carisak Dirt Gyles has arrived. Tance scrambles into the sled and promptly gets as far from the hatch as it's physically possible for him to get, huddling down at the very back of the craft, curled up in a tight little ball. A moment later, the hatch reopens and Gyles steps inside. It takes a moment but he quickly hears soft noises coming from the cargo area. With a soft sigh he hunkers down nearby and just watches. There's not too much to watch. The tormented, grizzled figure of Tance Vokrim remains hunkered down back there by the carton racks, husky, breathless little noises occasionally escaping him -- the only audible sounds of sobbing. His face is pressed against the wall beside him, his head bowed low. Occasionally, your thoughts turn to Ballybran. Hmmm. Well, let's try something here. Gyles rises and steps to the galley, there to rummage about a bit, making no attempt to be quiet, really, but an attempt to distract the distraught singer huddles in his cargo hold. Soon the rich smell of a broiled steak fills the cabin. The smells beginning to waft through the vehicle do have an effect: Tance Falls entirely silent. But he doesn't get up, not yet. Gyles flips two steaks into insulated, covered plates to keep them warm while he roasts some fava beans. When they're completely heated, without being mushy, he adds them to the steaks, and pulls two more Yarrans from stores. He joins Tance in the cargo hold, placing Tance's share next to him, then seating himself cross-legged on the floor nearby. He pauses, then reaches over and tips the lid off of Tance's steak, to let the aroma escape from the container. Finally, he pops open his brew and takes a slow sip, watching for Tance's reaction. Tance has moved throughout the course of this, lifting his face up to peer at the younger man in a strange mingled blend of profound shame and equally profound disbelief. His gaze flicks from the younger Singer to the food that has been set before him and back again, and he mutters at last, "I'm... I'm okay..." It doesn't sound very convincing, but perhaps it's a glimmer of pride, a hint of an attempt to salvage his ego. To further confirm this, the man sits up, slowly and tentatively. Gyles gestures toward the steak near Tance's hand, "Eat up." He spears a few fava beans with a fork and pops them into his mouth. "Steak is one of my favorite meals. I don't usually have it in the ranges, though." Evidently, this behavior is extremely bizarre. But Tance, just as slowly, reaches for the food that has been placed in front of him, glancing at Gyles every few seconds as if afraid the younger man is going to renege on his beneficence. You listen, realising that all of the resonance is now gone from your body. Gyles looks at you for a moment. Certainly, this is turning out to be the oddest shepherding experience Gyles has ever had, even when he includes the trip with the kid that insisted on diving down a sheer waterfall instead of taking the dry path at the edge of the river. But she and Tance both seem to like getting drenched, in one fashion or another. Gyles proceeds to consume his steak, paying little attention to Tance once the man surfaces from his mental shell and begins to eat. Somewhere in the middle of inhaling the food that he's been given -- in short, sharp spurts of activity -- there comes a lowly muttered, single syllable from the younger Singer's charge: "Thanks..." "No problem," Gyles replies, spearing a few beans and chewing them slowly. He certainly isn't going to make any attempt to psychoanalyze the old singer, that's Quinn's problem, and Quinn is going to pay me double for this one..! He eats another bite of steak and washes it down with the Yarran. "Thanks... while I can remember," Vokrim mutters abashedly, poking at the steak with the fork. His dark gaze stays down as he mutters, "You... should cut your crystal, kid..." "Not tonight," the 'kid' replies with a wry grin. That's usually what he calls his own trainees. "I don't have much charge left in my lamp, and there's too much initial work to do before I'd cut any of it." He continues eating his meal, calmly sitting there on the floor near this factured personality. "It can wait for morning." Tance frowns uneasily, glancing up through his disheveled bangs, but all he mutters is, "Oh." He shifts then, still hunkered up in the sled's corner, but in something less of a fetal ball. His gaze remains humbly lowered down to the steak as he works clumsily at slicing it up; his hands, marked with several small scars, are big... especially in comparison with his too-thin wrists... and shaking. "You're... you're... shepherding me...? H-h-how...." And he trails off, the voice that might normally sound at home in a baritone register going overhigh again. "Quinn asked me to escort you out here to recharge your symbiont," Gyles replies. "We've been out here two days, so far, and cut some nice rose yesterday, at the beach." Hopefully this will trigger the man's memory, without sending him into another panic over his missing companion. "We spent most of today flying search patterns, and you slept." "Recharge," mumbles Tance, and then, "I-I-I needed to come back to the crystal...." Gyles finishes his meal and sets the plate on the floor near the door. He picks up his beer and adjusts his position, moving from legs-crossed to straight out and crossed at the ankles. "Yes, you did," he agrees, almost adding that Tance is presently more coherent than he's been the entire trip, but decides that wouldn't be wise, or kind. "Feeling better?" A few more bites of steak vanish, though Tance never looks up as they do so. Nor does he look up as he hesitantly bobs his unkempt head. "Yeah," comes the timidly warbled answer. Gyles smiles slightly. "I'm glad to hear it." He falls silent then, slowly sipping his Yarran while Tance eats, musing idly over market possibilities of this new crystal vein. His bottle empty, Gyles rises from the floor and collects his plate, then pads back into the galley to dump the garbage and retrieve two more cold beers. Before Tance can react, he returns to the cargo hold and sits down on the floor once again, setting a fresh bottle on the floor next to Tance's own. "Porter," he comments, "One of my favorite brews." He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his arms across his knees lazily. "I had to bribe the stockers to load it, last time." Slowly, but inexorably, the food vanishes. Tance Vokrim might be in pitiful mental condition, but he does at any rate seem to possess an appetite. With somewhat less certainty he approaches the Yarran beer, gulping it down in small swallows, every so often staring at the bottle in general bemusement. Eventually, though, he looks up at the younger Singer. "Yeah?" Gyles makes a dismissive gesture directed toward JPF. "They seem to think everyone prefers Yarran over all else." He takes a slug of his porter. "I happen to like a little variety!" "Yarran's good," mumbles Tance. It might almost be a protest, if it weren't such a diffident statement. "Didn't say it wasn't," Gyles replies, "But there are many other fine beers that deserve to be drunk." He considers a moment, then adds "There's a clear fruit wine in the catering units I drink occasionally, but I haven't tried it out here. I don't think it would handle the rough ride." He drinks steadily, making fast work of this second bottle. Tance peeks up at his shepherd again, managing to keep his gaze up, though his expression remains hard to read under all that beard. "Guess you... afford 'em, if you sing black," he mumbles, voice turning rough. For some reason, Gyles find that amusing. "Not as much as you might think. I'm solvent right now, but it was four years in the hole before that. I.." he pauses, having second thoughts about the direction the conversation was taking. "I didn't have any veins claimed before this trip," he finishes. "You... you find 'em, though, you remember... you... you're...." Tance's hands start shaking again, and with an abrupt thump, he sets down the bottle, his arms curling in about himself. "Bonus. Bonus for shepherding. Y-you should... take me back in. Not much of a sheep. I-I gotta get back..." "I'm no medic, but I can tell it's too early to take you back." He doesn't specifically mention the tremors. "The bonus is the same, and I would appreciate the extra help." He drinks the last swallow of beer and rises again, snagging Tance's mostly empty bottle as well. "I've another brew for you to try," he suggests. "You might just like it." He steps into the galley briefly, then returns with two more bottles. "This one's a reproduction of an old Terran brew," he grins, handing Tance a cold bottle of Tsing Dao. "I'm told it's fitting." "Not very good help," croaks the older Singer plaintively, in the direction of the worn cloth that garbs his knees. He then looks up again, what's visible of his brow furrowing at the newly offered bottle. "F-fitting?" he mumbles. "Perhaps not this moment," Gyles shrugs, "But I'm sure in another day or two you'll be back to normal." Whatever normal is, anyway. "As for fitting," he taps the side of his face, near his almond-shaped eyes, "I read somewhere that my ancestors developed Tsing Dao in their section of old Earth." He pops his open and takes a sip. "Not that I would be able to prove it." Half the Guild might snidely observe that Tance's current state is normal for him; the rest, knowing him in the company of Kesya As'shoriah, might have other opinions to offer. But neither half of the Guild is here, and there's only this confused-eyed man with a bottle of beer. Tance blinks bemusedly to the younger man, and then follows his example, unsurely taking his first sample of the brew. Gyles stifles a yawn, and hides it behind another slug of beer. "Do you want to help cut some of this crystal tomorrow, or would you prefer working on something more common?" Tance's hands shake a little more as he peers at the beer he's just tasted; then, abruptly, he belts down another lengthy swig from the bottle. His gaze drops down again as he mumbles, "I... but... it's.... i-i-it's black..." "If you don't want to cut black, we can go find another," Gyles suggests. "I can always paint another one." He finishes off his Tsing Dao ad peers at Tance's bottle. "Ready for another?" "I... I'm not... I'm not good enough for black--" mumbles Tance. He then blinks twice up at Gyles, startled, his eyes going wide in an unmistakable look of startlement even if most of his face is hidden by his whiskers. "I... can have more?" "As much as you want," Gyles affirms. "Help yourself, I've got enough for another week or so, at this rate." He returns to his feet, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "I think I shall turn in." He starts toward the cabin, then turns, one hand against the cargo hatch. "Will you be okay?" The older Singer dips his head down again, embarrassed, but immediately mutters, "I'll be okay... I-I'll be okay...." With a nod, and a quiet "Good night!" Gyles returns to the cabin and prepares both bunks for the night, allowing Tance the privacy of the cargo hold for as long as he needs it. He quietly locks the cabin door, before kicking off his boots and clinbing into the top bunk. Once there, he quickly falls asleep. [End log.]