Pasted

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/20321913
 	<...take it down to the bottom, near the manipulation bed.> Dr. Wackett's chipper voice once again instructs you over your headset. Obliging, you apply some magic and turn the propellers on your legs. 
 	Once again in the test pool, Dr. Wackett has you testing the ability of a Subwitch to withstand quick changes in depth and manipulate fine items and objects. Submerged in the deepest part of the pool (some 30m or so, an impressive depth for a pool) is a rectangular 'box,' much wider and deeper than it is tall, on which numerous switches, buttons, dials, and other precision objects are attached. They don't control anything, but the test is about whether or not you're able to adjust them at all. 
 	<I'm heading down now,> you respond, carefully adjusting your limbs to orient your face downward. You could simply let gravity drag you to the bottom of the pool, but you're feeling a little impatient today. Besides, you're here to test rapid pressure changes, too. A gentle thrust from your leg units propels you quickly to the bottom, the gentle light of your shield surrounding you as the pressure grows. As you approach, you reach back to the main unit of the Substriker and draw out the handlebar-like controls. Manipulating them carefully, you use it and your leg units to kill your downward momentum and re-orient yourself horizontally.
 	<Alright, you should see some panels with a bunch of controls,> says the Doctor.
 	<Yeah, a bunch of them.>
 	<Can you set them the same way as on your clipboard?>
 	You take out the waterproof board with a crude drawing on it. It's a rough representation of the panels in front of you, with each switch, button, and dial set a certain way.
 	<I can try.>
 	The words hadn't left your mind for more than a second before you hear a sharp crack coming from the unit on your back. Maintaining your pressure shield suddenly becomes very difficult.
 [x] Doc, I've got a problem.
[ ] Emergency Surface.
[ ] Set the switches.
[ ] Other.
 	<Uh, Doc? I think I've got a problem...>
 	Silence. 
 	<Doc, can you hear me?>
 	Again, no response. This is worrying. Though you're using a radio set, as a Radio Witch you have a natural propensity for transmitting and receiving radio waves. Even if the set was damaged, you should still be sending out some sort of signal and be able to hear any response. The air in your helmet feels hotter.
 [ ] Keep trying.
[x] Emergency Surface.
[ ] Set the switches.
[ ] Other.
 	There's no time to mess around. Maintaining your pressure shield is draining you quickly, and you're at the bottom of the pool. Again reaching for the handle-bar controls, you attempt to command the unit upward. There's no response from the backpack. Frustrated, you try to pump some juice into the leg units. They start turning, propelling you upward about 3 meters...and then jam, leaving you drifting slowly towards the surface. 
 [x] Signal the rescue divers.
[ ] Rip this shit off and get to the surface.
[ ] Other.
 	You gesture wildly at the rescue divers, the two of them watching you from the lip of the deep pit of the pool, some 5m from the surface. You point at yourself then point upwards, trying to ask them to help you get up. When they don't get it, you do your best to indicate that everything has broken and you need help, but your movements seem more like random chaos than an intelligent message. Either way, the divers seem to think that getting you to the surface is a good idea. They dive downward in excruciating slowness, eventually taking you by your arms and lifting you up and out of the pool.
 	They rip your helmet off so you won't suffocate and the cool air of the pool room gives you some sense of safety. They ask a practiced list of questions about how you're doing and what was wrong.
 	"Everything fucking jammed is what!" you say. "Something cracked or popped or whatever and it all stopped working."
 	Dr. Wackett listens intently, scribbling some notes. "Mmhmm. What was it like?"
 	"What was it like!? Like suddenly having a brick hanging over your head and the string holding it up's about to snap is what!" you reply angrily. "It's hell holding back all that pressure without a working focus!"
 	She again jots down some notes. "And what was it like trying to move with everything disabled?"
 	"Like trying to swim in molasses! The Substriker generates so much drag when you try to swim normally that you'd wear yourself out before you got anywhere."
 	"Uhuh. You couldn't get the unit off?"
 	"I didn't try, but-"
 	Wait a second.
 [x] You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there.
[ ] Whatever. Let her keep questioning you.
[ ] Other.
 	"You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there," you note.
 	"Well of course, Cleo! Everything that happens on a test is important, especially when something goes wrong! You might say that the most valuable data comes from failure!"
 	"Like the failure of the Substrikers?"
 	"Yes! And the reaction of the diver. It's very important to understand what broke, but we can do that back in the shop. It's just as important to get the impressions of the person using it when it broke." Dr. Wackett's eyes are gleaming as she hugs her clipboard. "And you're the person that was using it, so tell me everything!"
 [x] Oh, well, uh...
[ ] You didn't set up that failure on purpose, did you?
[ ] Other.
 	"Oh, well, uh..." you say sheepishly. "I guess you're right."
 	Dr. Wackett smiles enthusiastically, barraging you with a new list of questions. The pace at which she asks makes you wonder how she's getting this all down, but her pen is flying across the pages at an astounding rate. If there's anyone that could get everything, it's Dr. Alice Wackett. 
 	As she starts wrapping up the questioning, you both walk towards the door. Just as you grab the jacket you use to help cover yourself up, Rae busts in.
 	"ARE YOU READY, CLEO?" she bellows, her voice echoing in the pool room.
 	"Please don't yell, Ms. Caulders," Dr. Wackett asks in a flat tone.
 	"I'm a Lieutenant, Doc."
 	"Then Lt. Caulders, please don't yell."
 	"Sure thing, Doc. Hey, Cleo, are you ready?"
 	You look at Dr. Wackett but the puzzled look on her face tells you it's nothing she knows about.
 [ ] Sure am.
[x] Ready for what?
[x] Other. - Party Time
 	You turn back to Rae. "...This doesn't have anything to do with my birthday, does it?"
 	Dr. Wackett's eyes widen. "It's your birthday, Cleo!? Why didn't you tell me?"
 	"Well, technically it was yesterday. And yes, it does. I told you I'd find something to do, right?" Rae smiles a dangerous smile. "I've arranged a ride out into town. We're gonna have a blast, Cleo! Eat at some restaurant, hit some bars...C'mon, it'll be fun!"
 	"I don't know, Rae. I don't think we should just up and leave out of nowhere."
 	"You're not worried about our orders, are you? I checked the wording. We're to assist in the research effort using our first hand experience and our abilities while also resting and recovering from our ordeal. I'd say a night on the town counts as resting and recovering." 
 	"Oh, I want to come too!" Dr. Wackett exclaims. For someone with so much...education, she's awfully animated and eager.
 [x] Alright, let's go.
[ ] We have testing to do.
[ ] Other.
 	"Alright," you say, "let's go."
 	"Yes!" Dr. Wackett nearly jumps for joy, but manages to remain planted on the ground. A Doctor has to appear composed at all times, you suppose.
 	Rae looks as if she wants to say something about Dr. Wackett, but doesn't. With a sigh, she leads you out of the pool. 
 	Several hours later, you, Rae, Miranda, Yetta, and Dr. Wackett walk out onto the airstrip, heading for a cargo plane. Your civilian clothing is a welcome respite from the constant work and danger you've been dealing with for weeks. It really emphasizes the nature of your visit.
 	"So what's the deal?" you ask. "Why'd we have to wait so long?"
 	Rae shrugs. "Tom said we could hitch a ride on the supply flight out of here. They're headed for an installation in Toowoomba to stock up before heading back. It's a supply run for CAC, so they're more lenient on what gets to fly and what doesn't."
 	Miranda taps her foot nervously. "Are you sure about this, Rae? How are we getting back?"
 	Rae smiles. "Well, they're planning on loading up during the night. Conveniently they're waiting for a package that should arrive in the morning, so they'll stick around for awhile. We just have to get back before they leave."
 	"And if we miss it?"
 	Rae shrugs. "We'll figure something out."
 	How reassuring.
 [x] We need a return plan.
[ ] Board the plane.
[ ] Other.
 	"We need a way back, Rae. Don't you have a deadline for the Striker testing?"
 	Rae shrugs and looks away. "Yeah, but..."
 	Dr. Wackett speaks up. "Well, I'm in charge of the facility."
 	Everyone looks at her curiously, yourself included.
 	"So?"
 	"Well, I can just tell them I need to head to town. They'll have to wait for me if I'm using them to fly out to Toowoomba." 
 	Rae smiles. "There, you see? Even the Doc can be useful sometimes. It's no problem! Let's head on out." She starts heading for the plane, Dr. Wackett following her.
 	To be honest, you're not quite sure how you feel about this. You, Miranda, and  Yetta glance at each other nervously. It feels like you're about to play hooky and the military's a bit different from school. Still, you do have the overseer of the facility backing you and your orders do mention resting and recuperating. You're not on combat duty or anything. 
 [x] Board the plane
[ ] Don't board the plane
[ ] Other
 	You're worried, but you've technically got some sort of permission. Probably the highest form of permission, given that this is still technically a civilian facility. Besides, it's for your birthday. Sighing, you turn and head for the plane. After a few moments, Miranda and Yetta follow you.
 	After the plane takes flight, you all find yourselves in the back of the cargo plane. Dr. Wackett's broken out a bunch of blankets from a crate for all of you to sit and rest on, backs to crates and the sides of the plane. The propellers are a bit loud, but with a bit of effort you can understand each other.
 	"So," Rae asks, "how old are you now?"
 	"Rae!" Miranda exlaims.
 	"What?"
 	"That's rather rude."
 	"Oh come on. What if I've got a cake somewhere and I want to know how many candles to put on it?"
 	Miranda just glares at her.
 [ ] Tell her.
[ ] Agree with Miranda.
[x] Other. - How old do you think I am, Rae?
 	You grin at the opening. "How old do you think I am, Rae?"
 	"W-what?" Rae appears to be taken off guard. "What do you mean?"
 	"Exactly what I asked, Rae. How old do you think I am?" Both you and Miranda smile as Rae squirms. She's rushed out without thinking and only now seen the minefield. Even Yetta giggles a bit as she watches.
 	"Well, I, uh..." Rae mumbles. She studies you carefully before finally saying "You're older than me, right?" Even that question, though, was rather hesitant. 
 	You make an exaggerated show of thinking, twisting and contorting your face in thought. "Hmmm....yes, I am."
 	Rae smiles. "Yes, alright, um..." Again, she studies you. "Uh...27?" she guesses nervously.
 	That's two years too old.
 [ ] Berate her.
[x] Chide her.
[ ] Other.
 	"Tsk, tsk, tsk," you scold. "You owe me two drinks, young lady."
 	"Whaaaat?" Rae complains.
 	"You're over by two! I'm not that old, thank you very much," you say as you cross your arms. Dr. Wackett twitches as you say that and a melancholy air surrounds her.
 	"Well, if you're done poking around things you shouldn't be," Miranda says, "then perhaps we should talk about how we've been? It's only been a few days, but I'm sure we've all been busy. What have we all been up to?"
 	Rae rolls her eyes. "I've been flying those Mars Strikers, trying to get their flight characteristics down for the brass and whoever they deem worthy. They're driving me crazy with all the stupid little things they want tested."
 	You shrug. "Been working with Dr. Wackett on testing the Substrikers. Had an equipment malfunction today, too. What a great birthday present, huh?" Dr. Wackett looks away and the melancholy feeling intensifies.
 	Miranda expresses some concern. "You're alright then, Cleo? You didn't...you know, start...drowning?"
 	"No, it's fine, but it could have gone South real quick."
 	"Well, I'm glad you're alright. As for me, I've been busy testing some radio equipment. The techs are going all over that helmet you brought back, running all sorts of tests. It doesn't seem to block much in the way of radio, but they're still working it all out."
 	Everyone turns to Yetta, except Dr. Wackett; she's still moping in the corner. "M-me? Well, um...I've been watching Socks."
 	"Oh, come on!" Rae complains. "You've got the easiest job! How'd that happen? Shouldn't Cleo be the one watching Socks?"
 	You think back to when you first arrived. Rae's right; you really should be the one watching Socks. It's just that, well... Yetta didn't quite seem ready to hop back in a Substriker. You pushed for a swap in "duties," something Yetta was quite grateful for. As she remains silent, you can tell she doesn't really want to let anyone know how badly she's been affected by the Tullibee.
 	"Oh, shut up. You're just mad about how much flying you have to do. Didn't you tell me just yesterday about how flying is always fun?" you deflect carefully.
 	"Hey! I didn't say it wasn't fun anymore, just..."
 	You all continue in merry conversation until the plane lands. It's early evening, and the town is lively.
 [ ] Bars, bars, bars!
[x] Get some food at a nice restaurant – Rae's buying.
[ ] Other.
 	"Alright, let's grab some food," you say, stretching as you exit the plane. 
 	"I guess that's fine," Rae agrees. "Doc, you've been here before, right? What's a good place to get some food?"
 	Dr. Wackett raises her pen to her mouth. "Actually, I've never flown into town before. Not for pleasure, anyway. I have no clue."
 	"What? Oh, come on. You need to get out more," Rae says. "Well, what's the plan, then?"
 	"Hmm," you say as you all get out of the way of unloading.
 [ ] Head into town proper and find a restaurant.
[x] Ask someone handy at the air strip for a recommendation.
[ ] Stop someone in town for a recommendation.
 	You grab one of the men heading to the plane by the shoulder. Startled, he turns to you.
 	"Y-yes, Ma'am?"
 	"You know any place good to eat around here?"
 	"O-oh. You could try, um..." He spits out a list of a few restaurants, all located at the south side of town, rather close to the air strip. Thanking him, you head back to the group.
 	"Well, there's a few we could try not too far from here. You guys up for a walk?" you ask. Your only answers are groans. "What, you got a better idea?"
 	A whistle comes from behind you. Spinning around, you spot Dr. Wackett standing next to a car. "Need a lift?" You roll your eyes.
 	After a short drive, you all arrive at a place called "Jamie's" and head inside. It has a friendly atmosphere, something between that of a family kitchen and a high-class establishment. Being seated by a friendly waiter, you look around at the clientele. A few people are dressed in formal wear, but the majority are wearing more casual clothing like yourselves: button-up shirts, blouses, plain pants, the like. 
 	"...competent. Just the other day Jack lost his son over in Brisbane. Poor kid was still in training. How do people miss something like that?"
 	"Look, I understand how painful it is losing a son, but let's be serious. We're fighting literal men from Mars. I think I can forgive them for not being perfect. Overall we've been doing quite well!"
 	"Yeah, if you only watch the newsreels. Maybe they're right and we are winning. How many men are we losing?"
 	"You shouldn't say that! What kind of leader would want more dead soldiers?"
 	"Incompetent ones, like I said. And what's the deal with some of the special treatment those Witches have been get-"
 	"Orders, ladies?" Your eavesdropping is interrupted by a waitress. Distracted by a pair of diners a few tables over, you didn't even notice the menu placed in front of you.
 [ ] I'll have what Rae's having.
[x] Oh, sorry. One moment please.
[ ] Other.
 	"Oh, sorry. I was, um...one moment, please." You flip over the menu, glancing at various dishes. Much of the offerings are familiar, things like various steaks, chicken and pork dishes, the like. However, one catches your eye. Crocodile. The price tag is also high enough that you'd never pay for it yourself. Still, seeing as it is your birthday...and Rae should be paying for it...
 	"I'll have this Crocodile dish," you tell the waitress.
 	"W-wait, let me see that," says Rae. Her eyes widen as she reads the price. "Are you serious?"
 	"What, can't treat a girl on her birthday?"
 	Rae merely grumbles in reply.
 	Taking the menus away, the waitress heads back to put in your orders. The others strike up some conversation, but you're still focused on the pair a few tables over.
 	"...believe you! How can you be so pessimistic about the whole thing? You're not still mad that you didn't pass the medical examination, are you?"
 	"That has nothing to do with it. I just don't like how much special treatment these girls are getting while our boys have to deal with jack shit!"
 	"I really don't believe this, John. Those ladies are out there on the front lines, bearing so much more of the burden than any individual soldier. If you can't appreciate them with all they've given, then you must not appreciate someone like me who's stuck at home, turning the occasional wrench in a factory." 
 	At that, John's lady friend gets up and storms out. When your food arrives, you notice John leave as well.
 	"So how is it, Cleo?" Miranda asks.
 	"I'm sorry, what?"
 	"Your damned expensive meal, Cleo. Your crocodile. What's it taste like?" complains Rae.
 	"Hmm..." you say, taking a bite of the meticulously prepared meal. It has a wonderful taste and texture, falling apart in your mouth. It's perhaps a bit cliché, but it does taste a bit like chicken. There's a hint of something more aquatic in there as well, perhaps crab. It's very exotic, something you've never had before.
 	"Well, I guess there's our answer," Rae comments as you can't help but smile at the taste.
 	Finished with your main courses, the waitress returns. 
 	"Would any of you like some desert?"
 [x] Yes, I'd like...<what would you like?> - That shit Chiaki got in Pirates
[ ] No, thanks.
 	"Oh god, someone stop her," moans Rae as she watches your cogs turn. Her pleas are futile. You order the most extravagant parfait on their desert menu, a delicious concoction of ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, wafers, and various fruits. 
 	"I want one too," Dr. Wackett says as the waitress brings you yours.
 	As you dig in, you note the delicious sweetness of the desert. It's devilishly creamy, with a smoothness that's countered only slightly by some of the toppings. As you bite into a juicy piece of strawberry, your face contorts, trying to fight off the slight tartness of the fruit. A vanilla wafer finds its way onto your spoon as you take another bite, providing a wonderful crunch to your ice cream. As you consume it, you fear that you might have died and gone to heaven. Rae's occasional THUMP as she bangs her head on the table is the only assurance you have of your continued survival.
 Finished with that dish, you all head out into town, trying to find a bar to hang out in.
 [x] Toowoomba Tavern calls you.
[ ] Drunk Down Under is more your style.
[ ] Jacob's Bar and Grill might be more accommodating.
 	Toowoomba Tavern looks about right. It's not so brazenly trashy, nor is it really high-class. It's more of an in-between bar, the kind of place where you could get drunk if you wanted to, but also where you can sip a drink all night if you wanted to. At least, that's the impression you get from the name and front of the place.
 	"Well, shall we enter?" Miranda asks.
 	"I guess," you answer and push open the door. As you look around, you notice a decent amount of people inside. There's several of what you guess are off-duty military personnel, a few women, and a lot of guys that, if they aren't washed up, are well on their way there.
 	Rae surveys the room, then nods. "Yeah, this will do. WATCH IT BOYS, WITCHES IN THE HOUSE!" 
 	Miranda cradles her forehead in her hands as she shakes her head at this outburst. "What are you trying to do, Rae?"
 	"Isn't it obvious? Guys love Witches," she says with a grin. Indeed, the majority of the bar's occupants have brightened up at the new arrivals. Of course, that doesn't mean everyone; the bartender is indifferent and most of the women look annoyed...as does one familiar face.
 	Sitting in front of several empty glasses is a very haggard-looking man you recognize from the restaurant: John.
 NEXT TIME ON SUBWITCHES: THE HANGOVER
 Tuesday 8PM EST 7PM CST