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Download Torrent First com autour. This is Part 2 of Chapter 18: Flight. Part 1 can be found here Ambassador Evans strode through the glass panel doors as they swished open, and took a moment just past their threshold to drink in the scene before him. He breathed in deeply, and managed to suppress a sneeze as it tried to force itself upon him. Multicoloured Onathins strolled up and down the joyfully lit main concourse of Sechalla Station, cheeping and squawking to each other as they marveled at the twinkling advertisements that hung across every storefront. Puzzled human traders stared at the odd wares that the Onathins offered, ranging from glass spheres containing swarming silver dust particulates that endlessly assembled and disassembled into various shapes, to lizard-fish hybrid creatures that were best eaten live, but often appropriated by human traders as pets. The glowing panels above gently washed the traders, merchants, and tourists with a soft yellow light, throwing an extra tint of happiness and activity into the station. Diplomat Pellon followed Ambassador Evans through the doors and chirped, “I’ve never seen a station transform so drastically in so short a time. Trade with Sol has turned this station from a derelict heap into a beacon of commerce in this sector of the Sovereignty. ” He swept his wing appreciatively at the scene before them, “We have much to thank you humans for, Ambassador Evans. ” “Trade helps both parties, Diplomat Pellon, ” Ambassador Evans replied as he began to push his way through the crowds, “I don’t think the Forge would have been as successful if we didn’t have Onathins regularly visiting its shipyards. And of course, none of this would have been possible if First Prelate Iwardion hadn’t found it within him to trust us with interstellar engine technology. ” “An act of friendship begets another, ” Diplomat Pellon whistled softly as they made their way through the concourse and into an adjoining hallway. His talons clicked rhythmically on the silver-white metal surface, barely audible over the din of commerce and trade that emanated from everywhere at once. Ambassador Evans paused just outside of a noisy crowd of Onathins that had gathered along the side of the hallway, next to an Onathin shop with human vacuum cleaners on display. Diplomat Pellon cocked his head at him, puzzled, before strands of the conversation within the Onathin crowd reached his tympanic membranes. “Traitors! Traitors to your species, all of you! ” An orange-feathered Onathin brandished a vacuum cleaner and swung it about dramatically, “This infernal human device is the catalyst that takes jobs away from honest Onathin citizens! By purchasing it, you are aiding a foreign species in weakening the Onathin economy! ” Another purple-feathered Onathin within the crowd spoke up derisively, “What are you wheedling about? How is one human product going to weaken the economy of the entire Sovereignty? ” “It starts with one popular product. Soon, Onathin markets will be poisoned with human products, and all of our credits will flow to the humans, instead of being circulated within our own economy! ” The orange Onathin raved. The crowd erupted in mocking tweets and cynical chirps. “Do you even understand how the economy works?! ” “There’s nothing wrong with trading with Humans! ” “Go back to Xecheed, you stupid Stalwart Claw hatchling! ” Another green-feathered Onathin walked out from the vacuum cleaner store and flapped his wings menacingly, “If Sechalla Station is the result of trading with Humans, then I welcome it! You don’t even live on this station! You’re just a migrant, surviving solely on Station Handouts, which are only possible due to the surplus generated from trade with Sol! ” The storeowner clicked his beak impatiently as he advanced on the cowing orange Onathin, “Now leave! I have a business to run! ” With the flash of his talons, the storeowner snatched back the vacuum cleaner from the orange Onathin, who meekly scampered away under the glare of the Onathin crowd. Several human tourists and traders in the vicinity looked at Ambassador Evans questioningly, before he shrugged and announced, “Nothing to worry about, folks. Please continue about your day. ” Evans glanced at Diplomat Pellon briefly before continuing down the hallway, following the quickly dispersing crowd. He muttered, “What was that? ” Diplomat Pellon smoothed the feathers of his ruffled crest, “Senator Crysin and the Stalwart Claws are increasing efforts in spreading their anti-human rhetoric. That was a particularly pathetic attempt at spreading fear of human influence amongst the people. ” Diplomat Pellon spotted the orange-feathered Stalwart sympathizer in the distance and affixed him with a stare that could burn through the back of his head, “Unfortunately, this is not the case amongst many of the core worlds. The Stalwart Claws have been organizing demonstrations and protests, spreading the idea that First Prelate Iwardion is leading the Sovereignty to ruin by aiding the Kredith Dominion in their fight against the Forsaken. They also say that humans should be subsumed into the Sovereignty, or they will fracture our unity with their ideas. ” Diplomat Pellon’s feathers seemed to deflate as he continued, “Foreign Affairs was always the greatest point of contention between the Shardlight Talons and the Stalwart Claws. First Prelate Iwardion prefers to encourage cooperation with other species, which is largely the reason why our alliance with the Kredith Dominion is so strong. Much of the wealth that exists in the Sovereignty now would not be possible without the open and honest trade relationship that we had with the former Drikenyl Republic. ” “How do the Stalwart Claws justify their views on foreign affairs? ” Ambassador Evans asked as they rounded yet another corner, and headed down a wide corridor that was lined with Onathins and humans dragging cargo lifts to and from hangar doors. “They claim that the Sovereignty is stronger without the influence of external races, and that by focusing our efforts inward, we can bind our planets closer, which would increase internal trade and innovation. Granted, unity within the Sovereignty is not as strong as you may think, ” Diplomat Pellon let out a sharp squawk, “but they fail to understand that by encouraging cooperation with other species, we subtly encourage cooperation within our own civilization as well. How Onathins treat other races is always a reflection of how we treat other Onathins. Senator Crysin doesn’t realize that this works in reverse as well. ” “I see. ” Ambassador Evans said quietly. Diplomat Pellon stopped and cocked his head sideways to look at Tyler, “Rest assured, Ambassador, that the Stalwart Claws will find no supporters here on Sechalla Station. Even with a more persuasive attempt, their anti-human rhetoric will only bounce off membranes and be ignored. Trade with Sol has breathed new life into this sector of the Sovereignty, and every Onathin here knows this. ” “But if they are ramping up efforts to sabotage Humanity’s image, this means that the Stalwart Claws will be pushing for a re-election very soon. Is First Prelate Iwardion ready to push back? ” “I am not privy to his overall strategy, but I am sure that he is taking steps to gather support for the Shardlights. ” His talons clicked on the soft silver floor as they continued towards the hangar at the end of the corridor, “It will be a tough fight, but I am confident that we will win a majority in Parliament again. ” The lines of cargo haulers thinned as they reached the end of the hallway and arrived at the last set of hangar doors. Floating antigravity platforms hovered just beyond the threshold of the thick silver hangar doors, swaying enticingly. Ambassador Evans and Diplomat Pellon obliged, and stepped onto the platforms, which gently whisked them deeper into the expansive hangar. Hundreds of blinking lights dotted the ceilings and walls, casting dancing shadows all along the lone Blinkship that occupied the hangar. Gentle streams of collimated light pulsed from a circular emitter on the floor, wrapping the underside of the Blinkship in a brilliant embrace. The antigravity platform gradually slowed before halting in front of several other platforms, each occupied by various Onathin engineers, welders, and builders, all chirping amicably with each other as they welded a device to the underside of the ship. A familiar brown-feathered Onathin glided towards them, extending his wings in greeting, “Ambassador Evans! Diplomat Pellon! Welcome again to Sechalla Station. ” Ambassador Evans returned the gesture, “Thank you, Steward Gredion. I presume that the modifications to the long range sensor suite were successful? ” “Yes, and the integration into your Blinkship will be complete momentarily. ” Steward Gredion waved towards the welders with a wing, “The Pathfinder engineers that you sent over were most efficient! ” “I assume that you’ve already run some tests on the modifications, and have scanned the nearby systems already? ” Ambassador Evans asked nervously. “Of course! ” Steward Gredion cocked his head at Ambassador Evans, “No Forsaken signals detected from here to Xecheed, as expected. But we’re certain that the long range sensor suite can now collect signals that are emanating within the fabric of superspace. ” Tyler let out a small sigh of relief. “I know it’s improbable that a Forsaken Voidbase could have made it all the way here from the Kredith Home Cluster, but it’s still a relief to know for certain that Earth is safe from imminent Forsaken incursion. ” The streams of light faded away as the Onathin welders removed their goggles from their beaks. “The sensor suite is secure, Steward Gredion. The ship is ready for launch. ” “Thank you. The payment for your services can be found on trade ring 7, next to the Appropr
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People from Big Finish have said that piracy results in a significant loss of revenue; their audios would be a lot cheaper if everyone who listened to the audios actually paid for them. I get the impression that this is going to sound more than a little preachy, but the discussion about the price of Big Finish in another thread got me thinking about this, and I wanted this to be more visible, and not just buried. So, here's the thing. Big Finish is a pretty small company, and every time someone pirates an audio story it's taking money away from them. There's no other way of looking at it; that's just the truth. The morality of it is somewhat beside the point; I'm not trying to stand up on a soapbox and say that if you have pirated Big Finish (which, simply as a matter of statistics, people must have done here) you're a bad person, because that's a silly approach to take. (Plus, it'd break rule 2! ) This is the reason why Big Finish CDs and downloads cost what they do; I personally do find them to be pretty expensive, so when I am buying them, it's only a select few, and it's only the stuff that's in the sales. There's no way on earth that I'd ever be able to fund a consistent Big Finish collection or subscription - but if I were to pirate them, other people would lose out (because it would mean the stories end up being more expensive) and the Big Finish team involved would lose out, because this is their actual livelihood. Big Finish has to put their prices up to deal with the cost of piracy; they've made efforts to reduce their costs, but it doesn't work while this sort of thing is going on. On their website, it says this: We estimate that Big Finish loses up to three-quarters of its potential revenue to piracy, and we will seek to prosecute anyone identified as a bootlegger or pirate. The maximum penalty for offences of audio piracy is 10 years imprisonment and/or an unlimited fine. The Proceeds of Crime Act legislation now also enables confiscation of assets and goods. Please remember that piracy affects us all. The more people who make a legal purchase of a Big Finish CD or download, the greater the opportunity for price cuts and special offers for our loyal listeners ? and you'll be funding new productions too! And on his tumblr, Rob Shearman said this: And I understand too that file sharing is born out of enthusiasm and love. And I accept the arguments that on a wider scale it doesn’t hurt sales at all - but that usually only works for a company big enough to support that. Big Finish are small. (In spite of their name! ) No one who works there does so for the money. No one ever got rich off making spin-off Doctor Who audios. When I did my first Big Finish play, back in 1999 - in those days they were released on cassette! - it was an entirely different culture - I’d personally only just got the internet, was on dial up, and the idea I would ever have the computer power to download a file the size of an audio drama was pure science fiction. But the truth is that as it gets easier and easier to download, so the likelihood of Big Finish being able to support that gets ever smaller. It isn’t cheap to make even a single story. And one day Big Finish will end - and it won’t be because the BBC took away the licence, or the Doctors decided not to record any more, or because the writers ran out of stories (never that! ). It’ll be because the well-meaning enthusiasm of fans who sincerely love Big Finish will bankrupt it. Anyway, no more from me. I don’t sit in judgement. I really don’t. But when people give me stats about torrenting, and links to sites which pontificate that the industry as a whole will benefit from it - I just think, as ever, that it’ll be the smaller companies who’ll get crushed by this brave new future. Like, yeah, I get it, of course I do; we all love Doctor Who, and we all want to listen to the new cool thing from Big Finish. But it doesn't matter if they can't sustain themselves, does it? I mean, their Saphire and Steel was cancelled because of the effects of piracy, and they've said that the Doctor Who range isn't actually significantly more secure. Bluntly, what it comes down to is this: If you think Big Finish is too expensive, buy it in the sales. Don't pirate it, because that will only drive the price up. It's not a system of trades; you can't say that you buy what you can afford and just pirate the rest, because that is still damaging. Buy what you can afford; don't buy the rest. If you appreciate the work that the people at Big Finish are doing, and want to support them, don't pirate the stories, because they won't get money from it. So, you know. From one fan to another. Please, support the people at Big Finish, because they do what they do for us.
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Story #1: [WP] A day in the life of Gary Busey, through the eyes of Gary Busey. I wake up next to a Chilean pornstar whose name I don't remember, and the events of last night flash through my mind, bringing a smile to my face. No matter how drunk I am, I never forget anything. My sexy little fuck muffin is still sleeping, so I slap her ass and get out of bed to take a shower, hoping she'll join me. She doesn't; not everyone can have the constitution of a soldier. Not everyone can drink a 40 of Appleton Rum and fly a helicopter from Las Vegas back to glorious L. A. Getting out of the shower I shave my pubes, sweeping the trimmings into a box I'm keeping for no discernable reason. Originally, I was going to use them to prank Phillip Seymour Hoffman, but then I remembered that he's dead. I considered pranking his grave but thought otherwise; I don't know if ghosts exist, but if they do, they surely count him among their number. He told me as much at his funeral. Breakfast is a shot of tequila, a shot of tabasco, five hard boiled eggs, and a bowl of cold leftover pulled pork. My Chilean consort is still asleep, a red handprint on her left ass cheek. I got things to do and can't wait for her to wake up, so I leave a note; "Gone to work, thanks for last night. Don't lock the door when you leave. " I hide her clothes and take her cellphone with me. 22 missed calls, tough luck. Your Hello Kitty iPhone is mine now. I never lock the doors to my house; an open challenge to any would-be robbers to come in and steal my twenty Oscars, mostly bought off washed-up Hollywood stars, my name written overtop of the winners in sharpie marker. Cuba Gooding Jr. sold me his for a pound of cocaine and permission to punch me in the face. I didn't bleed a single drop even though he broke my nose. If anyone breaks in, I'll hunt them down and feed them their own kneecaps for brunch, and everyone knows it and fears me. By noon I'm on the set of my latest movie, some ridiculous cop flick called, McRage, starring Nicolas Cage. It's got ninjas, zombies, lots of action, and goddamned Nicolas Cage. I hate that guy and tell him so every day. He laughs like I'm joking and feeds me Scotch by the gallon in his trailer, the sanctimonious hack. Turns out I was supposed to be here at 6am for a pivotal action scene. No, I didn't get the call, I don't have a cellphone. Why would I need a phone? Makeup, costuming. I can hear explosions; they're filming what they can without me. The director is some kid new to Hollywood, McG, he calls himself. Ridiculous name. Real men don't invent names, they invent legends. I tell him as much every day, and he tells me to sober up. Joke's on him, I'm so drunk that I practically am sober. I improvise my lines because I don't remember them. Everyone is impressed, my dialogue is way better than the script or the book it's based on. This flick won't win me an Oscar, but it will give me enough cash to buy two or three more. Filming takes all fucking day. By the time I'm done at 4pm I need beef the way Nicolas Cage needs to be worshiped. As we leave the set he shows me photoshopped pictures that people made of him and put on the internet. I think he wants me to be jealous, but seeing his face on Kim Cardassian's body makes me fear I'll never have a stiff cock again. I've got a knife tucked into the small of my back and I clutch it compulsively. If the next picture shows that damned Cardassian's breasts exposed with Cage's face grinning, I swear I'll slit his throat. They'd never dare arrest me; I've got enough refined uranium in my basement to make Hollywood a ghost town for ten thousand years. Damned if I remember where I got it from though; either an Arab prince or Julia Roberts' brother. Head to a restaurant with Cage; I get a 16oz steak, rare and bloody, with three lobsters on the side. Cage gets the same, but only after I place my order. I think the poor asshole admires me, so I decide to make fun of his kids for a while, then offer to buy his Oscar off him. "Oh wait, I already did that. Leaving Los Vegas? More like Leaving Bankrupcy Protection! " I laugh way too loud and he looks uncomfortable but doesn't have any comebacks. When we finish eating I run out on the bill and leave him alone at the table. I'd bet my left nutsack that he's going to run out on the bill too, just to try and equal my manliness. The fact that he has to try means he's already failed. When I get back home, my Chilean sex kitten is waiting for me in the nude because I hid her clothes. She says she missed a photoshoot today, and why the fuck don't I have a phone in the house, and what did I do with her phone? Her questions cease the moment my pants hit the floor, along with her jaw. When we're finished, I stay up till 3am drinking Jack Daniel's and writing a 40-page letter to Peter Jackson, outlining all the reasons why I should be the next Peter Parker. I have a lot of reasons, and they're all valid. Fuck you, Tobey Maguire. I know you're not Spiderman any more, but fuck you nonetheless. I hit 'send' on the email, CCing George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and Oprah. Briefly I wonder if my "PS" should have gone on in such explicit details the reasons why I want Oprah to be my sex slave for a month; but then I remember: I'm Gary Busey, and fuck them if they can't handle it. I fall asleep on eBay, bidding on a fake Oscar that says, "Best Mom". Before passing out, I leave a sticky note on my shower door: bring my box of pubic hair to set tomorrow. Cage is going to get what's coming to him, and things are going to be hairy. Story #2: [WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice. Dear Mr. Satan; This letter is to inform you that effective immediately, I quit. As per Union rules, I will serve out my remaining two weeks. While the past three thousand years of servitude have been fulfilling, I feel that it's time for me to try something else. Yours, with thanks, -Tarkenon the Bezerker PS- If you were wondering, yes I did get a job in Yahweh's Heaven. The pay is better, and although I realize you have lost several staff to them recently, please don't refuse my request to quit like you did with Albright Paingiver last month. That was in clear violation of Union rules, and unlike Albright, I'm not afraid to report your actions to our local representative. PPS- By the way, you may not even realize it but I was instrumental in the execution of the Justinian Plagues. I worked closely with you on that project for seventy-five years and you kept calling me 'Turk', even when others around you called me 'Tark', aka, my name. The general consensus at the time was that you didn't like me, which seems the only explanation for the fact that I received no bonus that century, leading to a financial setback that contributed to the divorce of my 3rd wife. You may remember her, Cheryl Greybone, the intern you had sex with while on a conference call about the Plagues. No hard feelings or anything, but when I first started working here you had strict rules about fraternization with the staff. I don't know when those rules started relaxing, but nobody was particularly impressed. PPPS- Actually, I do remember when the rules started slacking, right after you toured Krishna's Heaven. You came back and said, and I quote, "that place was amazing, let's invade it, " and when you found out that invasion was a violation of the Mythologies Act you got all depressed and started fucking interns. PPPPS- If you liked Krishna's Heaven so much, why did you not try in the slightest to emulate it? Hell has been boring for thousands of years, you've done literally zero upgrades to the facilities since acquiring the property. I hear the Buddha's realm has problems with the WiFi; at least they have WiFi! One shitty internet cafe running Windows 98 on two and a half computers doesn't count as an "internet connection", and you need to stop using that claim on employment brochures, all it does is piss off the new hires. PPPPPS- Speaking of new hires, I officially resent the recent trend of outsourcing projects to the Norse and Roman Realms. You were quoted as saying, "Janus and Loki are more imaginative than I am", but that is the biggest pile of horse shit I've ever heard. Lucifer, everyone is more imaginative than you are, and you used to leave the work up to people like me, before you started catagorizing us into "fuckable interns" and "don't care". This is why you've been losing money for the past nine hundred years. It's only a matter of time before the housing bubble bursts, and with so many facilities in desperate need of an upgrade, it's going to be quite some time until the local economy recovers. I know you told the Union recently that you were considering a loan from Allah's Realm, in part because they have such low interest rates, but I beg of you, please don't go down that road. Valhalla is a shell of its former glory ever since they borrowed money for an expansion t

Creator: Ian S
Info: Former aether pirate laid low by sky kraken's & gin. Crash landed in Cambridge. Fan of Liverpool FC, coffee & steampunk. Opinions expressed may be mine.