From cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: [Oberon, Inc.] An Advertisement in the Haven's Rest Date: Sat, 1 May 93 07:18:12 GMT The first thing you'd notice about the motorcycle he was on was its size. It was a huge three-wheeled model perhaps twice the size of an ordinary street bike. It was painted in red and black colors, as was the jacket its rider wore, and his helmet. The bike was a ground vehicle, with wheels, which was a bit uncommon on Serendipity, but not extremely rare. The biker was heading for the primary bar and nightclub of the settlement, called Haven's Rest, or The Haven. He'd read some about it on SereNet--not much, really, mainly that it was the best bar in town and headlined good music. In fact, it was partly because of the music that he was coming here. The talk on the music.havens-rest group was that there was a big act playing tonight. He hadn't read much about it, though...he hadn't known he'd have tonight free (it had opened up at the last minute) and he had been more interested in the latest scuttlebutt on the talk groups. Was it true that an Imperial assassin team was coming to Serenity? No one knew how the rumor had leaked out--in fact, it was probably through some covert means, for he had been on this planet long enough to know that PW, the head of the planet's security forces, would not be likely to let the news leak out openly. The motorcycle approached the form of the Haven. It was an old colony ship, or so he'd been told, the original ship to crash on and colonize Serendipity. It had obviously seen better days. And there was something else going on in front of it, too...a large crater, which was rapidly filling with--was that coffee? The young man slid the faceplate on his motorcycle helmet up, revealing the face of an 18-year-old with blue-grey eyes and blond hair, and sniffed the air. It was coffee, all right. There were a few beings climbing out of the crater--beings was all that the man could think to call them--and all wearing the most outlandish hats. And there was also a small figure that looked, well, rodent-like. "Oh well..." the boy muttered, "maybe there will be a place to park around back..." There was, and it was here that the young man left his bike. He lifted up the seat and put the helmet into a storage compartment there, followed by the gunbelt around his waist on which resided a rather large pistol. He didn't really feel comfortable wearing it, but this was a frontier town. He was leaving it here since he had heard that no weapons were allowed in the bar. He closed the seat, and pressed the security switch as he left so no one could steal the bike. He tossed the keyring in the air, grabbed it, and pocketed it as he walked off. He managed to avoid being spotted by the aliens and the rodent in the front, and slipped inside without incident. However, the small robot at the entry door barred his way. "Please deposit all arms before entering this establishment." "But I did...I left my gunbelt in my bike so I would--" "Sensors register a small automatic weapon on your right ankle." "Huh? Oh, that!" He reached down and pulled out a small pistol, handing it to the robot. "I'd forgotten all about that. My brother made me carry it, just in case. He says I should always carry a second weapon." "You may enter," the robot said. The man walked into the bar, sat down. On the stage at the opposite end, the band was setting up. Or was it bands? There seemed to be too many people for just one act. "Hey, who's playing tonight?" he asked the bartender. "It's the Undertakers and Red Rain," the large, surly man replied. "It's going to be a really hot show tonight, if you know what I mean." "Good, I'll be looking forward to it." He looked around. "Oh, by the way, my name's Kevin Wycoff." The bartender grunted. "Can you give me something nonalcoholic?" "Sure..." The bartender filled Kevin's glass with something, and Kevin pulled out the credcard that held his charge account to pay. When he was done, he spent a little more time watching the band set up, then walked on over to the bulletin board on the wall, which was filled with all manner of posts and announcements. This was the other part of the reason he'd come. He reached inside his jacket and came out with a stack of fliers and a pocket adheser. He pressed the stack of fliers to the board, then pressed the adheser to either of the top corners. The adheser was a handy little device that increased the molecular adhesion level of paper or other common materials, causing them to stick together. It was handy for putting up signs. Kevin took a seat at a vacant table, leaving the stack of fliers behind on the bulletin board. If anyone were to look at the fliers, they would see a smooth, professionally-printed notice that read ----------------------------------------------- ANNOUNCING THE OPENING OF OBERON, INC. A Company With a Remarkable New Product, So Remarkable That We Can't Even Tell You What it Is! Come to Our Showroom and See the Applications of this Remarkable New Machine! ____________________ | | | o --> X | | | | | o ______| | | | | | | _______ | |____________________| MAP TO OUR SHOWROOM You'll be amazed! If You Value Recreation, You Can't Afford to Miss This! For More Information, Contact Kevin or Jerry Wycoff, at kevwyc@oberon.corp.ser or jerwyc@oberon.corp.ser ----------------------------------------------- Leaving off the specific details of the product had been Jerry's idea. He said it would make people curious enough to call or drop by. Also, it would keep the authorities from noticing just what it was they were selling and getting all surly about it. Well, now business for the night was over. It was time to get on with pleasure. Kevin sat at the table, watching the band set up. It was going to be an interesting night. ADMIN: Yes, I know that the "map" on the sign doesn't show the way to anything. It's just a crude ASCII representation, and besides, I don't have the tourist guide available right now so I don't know where I would put the showroom anyway. Just assume that if your character sees the sign, he, she, or it will know where to go. And if you want to drop by the showroom (have I piqued your curiosity yet?) please email me and we'll work it out. I can tell you this...this is going to be fun. :) -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!"