HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: bus2@quads.uchicago.edu (cass roberts buscher)
Subject: (rest)
Reply-To: bus2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Fri, 22 Jan 1993 23:34:08 GMT

    The little man started handing Francis a stack of pictures.
    "This is my daughter..."
    Francis shook his head, and the little man stopped handing the pictures over.  
    "That's is not what we discussed."
    "just a test, I have no idea if your resume is valid."
    "If my actions could be proved I would have failed."
    The little man squirmed in his seat, he was not used to be the one harshly  treated.  Usually the other person was unnerved by his appearance.  If he had not been so close to human it wold be fine.  But the similarities made the differences uncontrollable.
    "I am sorry I just do not trust you Mr. Island.  So I believe that terminates our business," the little man said as a last defense.
    "Mr. Waeg, if that is they way it is, I just expect expenses from travel,"  Francis replied handing the pictures back.
    "Forgive my haste, do you take the offered job or not?"
    Francis almost looked like he wanted to smile, but he didn't.
    "I have to evaluate the situation."
    "Then consider this a termination Mr. Island," Mr Waeg replied.
    "Fine, I expect a full reinbursement."
    "For what?  You waste my time, string me along, insult me," Mr. Waeg was yelling now.
    "I waste your time?"
    Mr. Waeg stood up and stormed out of Haven's-rest.  Francis Island sat there looking at the pictures that Mr. Waeg had left behind.  He needed to get his  lost funds somehow.
    He scrawled a message on a sheet of paper.
    Francis went over to Harry and handed him the message.  It was a call for employees.  ANyone who wanted to do a retreival of help on hits against Mr. Waeg, flesh merchant.  They were to leave a note for Francis Island at Havens-rest.  He would pay well, negotiable of course.
    "Could you make this known.  I will pay for space to advertise it," Francis stated.
    It was all going on Mr. Waeg's bill anyway.

ADMIN:  I'm just pruposing a thread here.  It involves a business war among flesh merchants, and could go some numerous directions.  If anybody is interested in working with me on it please feal free to send e-mail to bus2@quads.uchicago.edu.
Cass Buscher
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: kellogg@ducvax.auburn.edu
Subject: [Foxx] Re:  Malachi: Things take a downturn
Organization: Auburn University, AL
Date: Sat, 23 Jan 1993 21:27:53 GMT

Victor put 'Kaena's DNA samples into the reader when he suddenly paused
mid step.
                     
"Doctor?  I'm gettting *ANOTHER* request for assistance.  Someone has been
shot at Haven's Rest."

Foxx paused in washing his hands for half a second then began wiping them
on his lab coat.  "Erf.  You'd think I was the only doctor around here...
Rev up the speeder, we'll go."

A few minutes later, the sound of the Alpha Seven Speeder is heard outside
the Rest.   Foxx strides in, past the auto-guard which rings annoyingly,
"All patrons must turn weapon..."

"Oh *Shut up!*" snarls Foxx, "Mas!  I'm ignoring your guard!  I can't
operate blind."   Chris then strides throught the door to Elly and the
fallen Malachi.

Chrisl smiles at the guitarist, "It's alright son, you just lie back and
relax."  He notes Elly applying direct pressure to an apparant gunshot
wound and smiles.  "Good lassie.  You have a good touch.  You just hold
him still and we'll put him right soon enough, Ok?"

The sensors in Foxx's arm go to work the computers building up a picture
of Malachi's chest and displaying it on the back of his retina...
One entry wound, no exit.  A small calibre projectile lodged in the abdomen.
all in one piece.  No major organ damage...  Ah!  Nice and simple...

Victor the medical-seeing eye bot marched over and stood beside Elly.  A
brief electric shock snapped Elly's fingertips as a sterile field came
into existance around Malachi.  Noting the current draw, Victor turned to the
teenager politely, "I'm sorry about that Maam.  Didn't mean to shock you."

Foxx pumped an anesthetic in and began to snake in a small probe into the
entry wound.  Following the sensor built map of Malachi's body, the probe
soon found it's target and retracted the bullet.  mmmm.

Foxx sighed softly as he worked on the man.  "Second time in one night I'm
putting someone back together on this floor.  And this is the bar's opening
night!  How many doctors are there areound here?"

Victor saw an opening "There are over five heptillion beings known, and
roughly one physician to every hundred and sixty of these.  There are only
Six hundred Soldiers of Light.  They give no alliegience to any govenment.
They need no passport, so long as they do not involve themselves in any
political activity their person's are inviolate."

A few of the bars patrons listened to Victor's little speach, so he continued,
"An apprenticeship of forty years is required to become a member of the society
and membership is not confirmed until the applicant has made an undeniably
great contribution to the health and happiness of sapient life."

"This is my master, Soldier of Light number five hundred fifty nine, Doctor
Christopher Foxx."

Foxx coughed slighly and continued working.  "This is what I get for being the
559th best damn doctor in the universe..."

Scott/Dr. Foxx
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: Re: Mr. Aloysius is smitten
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Wed, 27 Jan 1993 20:53:24 GMT

>Mr. Aloysius says something along the lines of
> "I couldn't help but noticing your
>instruments.  And what quite fine musicians you are," despite the fact
>that they hadn't played a song since he entered.  "I have somewhat of
>a taste, an ear if you will, for music and appreciate very much its...
>er... may I buy you a drink?"
>
>"Honey," Nona said smoothly, hooking his arm around hers and gliding
>him to the bar, "I NEVER refuse a gentleman who offers to buy me a
>drink."
>
>"Madre de Dios," sighed Lita in disgust.
>
>"Oy, gevalt," Elly said, shaking her head.
>
>"Symbolic stack dump," Ree muttered disapprovingly.

Mr. Aloysius grinned nervously like a little boy who has just been given
his lifelong dream but fears that it may soon be retracted.  Approaching
the bar (which stood as high as his nose), he waved his hat to catch
the bartender's eye.  "Er, excuse me!  Excuse me!"  he shrieked.

Turning to Nona he composed himself, straightened his back and held
his head erect, and asked in a voice so dignified it was comical,
"And what will you be having tonight, milady?"


-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
From: Robert.T.Warfield@dartmouth.edu (Robert T. Warfield)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Re: [Holt & Smith] Discussion
Date: 24 Jan 93 22:08:44 GMT
 <C1Dp0n.54I@dartvax.dartmouth.edu>
Organization: Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH
X-Posted-From: InterNews1.0b6@newshost.dartmouth.edu

In article <C1Dp0n.54I@dartvax.dartmouth.edu>
Nile Barrabas <31974p@d1.dartmouth.edu> writes:

> 
>   Captain Holt barely had time to reach his office and get settled when
> John Smith entered the room. " Have a seat Mr. Smith, I have some
> important questions to ask you.
>   Smith sat down gently. His head was still giving him trouble. "Before
> you begin Captain " he said " I would like to thank you for saving my
> life."
>   "You're welcome" Holt replied " Now, let's get down to the matter at
> hand. Our scans of your ship revealed evidence of military equipment
> inside your ship. In particular, your drive, shields, and powerplant are
> almost identical to those on a destroyer class vessel. Would you care to
> explain this?"
 
  "Simple answer to that question, Captain." John replied " They ARE
military shields, drive and powerplant. Or at least what's left of them
are. And before you ask, I am authorized to have them. Also, your scans
should have shown that my ship is weaponless."


**********************************************************************
* Arthur, king of the Britons    * King of the who?                  *
* King of the Brittons!          * Who are the Brittons anyway?      *
* I am, you are, we all are the  *                                   *
* Brittons and I am your king!   * Well, I didn't vote for you.      *
**********************************************************************
Robert T. Warfield@dartmouth.edu
From: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [ADMIN] Have you sent us your character
Date: 28 Jan 1993 03:44:46 GMT
Organization: American Cyanamid Company
Distribution: world
Reply-To: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM
NNTP-Posting-Host: nmr1.pt.cyanamid.com

I'm in the process of generating the "Guests of Serendipity" FAQ.  I've
just gone through 4 inches of print-outs looking for names to include.
I've noticed a large number of "characters" have been introduced which
are not in the "Character Summary" FAQ.  Please send that out if you
haven't already.  It makes it easier to maintain these lists.  Send it
to: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie

As an aside: does anyone remember the name of that administrator which
had Jackpot's ship slagged.  Also, I remember there being an Ore-Jacker
in the pub around that time (last November).  What was his name?

Carl
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@cyanamid.com)     "All opinions are strictly mine" 
   "Sushi!   That's what my ex-wife called me.  Cold fish." -- Blade Runner

   Up the long ladder and down the short rope,
   To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional

Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: bus2@quads.uchicago.edu (cass roberts buscher)
Subject: (Revenge)
Reply-To: bus2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Sat, 23 Jan 1993 23:52:48 GMT

    ADMIN:  So far only I am involved in this thread concerning Francis Island
    But I would more than welcome anybody else who's interested in tagging along

    Francis looked around Havens-rest briefly once more before leaving after
handing Harry his notice.  He wondered if anyone would take him up on his offer.
    He walked out the door looking over and around his shoulder, not wanting
Waeg to get the jump on him.  There was no telling if the little man would know about the coming war yet.  Outside he was going to have to hurry to retrieve his weapons.
    Francis crossde the way an made his towards the ally where he had stored a
knife and gun.  Never could be to far from a set of weapons.  But this time it  looked like he may be to far.  Two big muscular men were moving with him as he  left Havens-rest.  Looks as if Waeg had planned the schism.  They would get him if he went for the weapons.  But if they were in a common place...
    Francis turned around and started walking back towards the pair.  He saw 
them stop nervously as Francie moved towards them.  Francis shoved both of his  hands into his overcoat pockets.  Inside his left pocket his hand circled a 
small rock.  No sense in being completely unarmed.
    Francie stopped between the two of them.  They were twins accept for hair   color.  A blond on his left, a brunette on his right.  They just stood staring  at him.  They hadn't been ordered to jump him in publice.
    "Can I buy you a drink boys?"  Francis asked, raising one eyebrow.
    The brunette shook his head and started to mumble something.  Francis's left hand was out of his jacket faster then an answer could be muttered.  The rock  and fist were smashing into the blond's throat, the other had just finished his refussal.
    "Oh my god, call the police," Francis yelled at the top of his voice.  The 
tone was surprisingly covered with shock.
    The brunette was already getting ready to make his own moves.  Francis was  backing away.
    "This man is hurt, somebody get a doctor," Francis continued to yell.

bus2@quads.uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Re: [Malachai] Things take a downturn
From: metlay@netcom.com (metlay)
Date: Fri, 22 Jan 1993 06:32:22 GMT
Organization: Atomic City
Summary: Red Rain to the Rescue?! They can't even SHOOT STRAIGHT!

In article <C18Cpw.EJq@acsu.buffalo.edu> v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) writes:
>
>
>Malachai smiled ruefully as he watched the girl go back to the band. She and  
>her friends had taken him down a peg, and no mistake.  The last thing he had
>expected to find on a backwater little planet like this was a really top-notch
>band; but since he had, it was obvious that he was going to have to find some 
>other way to pay the bills.  With a wave to Elly, he strode out of the bar to
>look for work.

Elly waved goodbye, watching him wistfully.

[admin: red rain can't play the rest every night; the deal was to split gigs 
with malachi. but if he wants an exclusive gig, that's his business--metlay]


>.  Then, clutching his arm, which was bleeding heavily by
> now, he staggered off to the one place he could think of to go: Haven's Rest.
>He actually made it through the door and was able to mutter, "Honey, I'm 
>home..." before collapsing on the floor.

Elly shrieked, "MALACHI!" and flew across the room to where the bleeding
guitarist had fallen. She gently turned him over and cradled his head
in her lap, looking to the women on stage with a mute plea.

The song ended abruptly. Lita jumped down from the stage, and yelled,
"Doctor? Is there a Doctor in the house?" She looked around wildly.
"CONYO! Someone have the number for Doc Whatshisname-- Foxx?!"

Nona said tightly, "Stay with the kid, Ree." Ree, holding Kyna in her
arms, nodded mutely. Running for the doorway, Nona got her gun back
from the guard-droid, and stopped at the threshold. She looked down
at the small pistol, and said to no one in particular, "What the HELL
am I DOING?!" 

She turned to face the bar in general. "Major league famous person 
just took a slug outside the Rest. May be good for some reward money
if we catch the perps." she paused, and looked a bit embarrassed.
"I could use a little HELP here...."

-- 
mike metlay * atomic city * box 81175 pgh pa 15217-0675 * metlay@netcom.com
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I have news for you. 'Thppht' spelled backwards is STILL 'thppht'."
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [Malachai] Things take a downturn
Date: 22 Jan 93 00:45:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41



Malachai smiled ruefully as he watched the girl go back to the band. She and  
her friends had taken him down a peg, and no mistake.  The last thing he had
expected to find on a backwater little planet like this was a really top-notch
band; but since he had, it was obvious that he was going to have to find some 
other way to pay the bills.  With a wave to Elly, he strode out of the bar to
look for work.

Four hours later, he found himself returning to the bar.  Night was falling, and
artificial lighting cast wierd shadows in the corner.  He had found two job
possibilities, one working in a warehouse and the other in the drydocks.  Both
sounded uncomfortably like manual labor to him, so he decided to hold off and 
see what tomorrow would bring.  Besides, he still had enough cash to last for a 
while...

The arm snaked around his neck and jerked him back into the alley before he had
a chance to react.  A swift blow to the midsection knocked the air from his
lungs and made spots appear before his eyes.  He heard a voice say, "Search him,
Rast."  Quick hands danced over his clothes as he was held immobile, coming up
with his wallet (wallets might be outdated, but Malachai liked them).  He 
had just decided to let this one slide and get by on the emergency cash in his
boot when the same voice said, "Grab his instruments, too.  Might be worth 
something."

That was going too far.  With reflexes born of desperation, Malachai kicked out,
catching the person doing the searching in the groin.  Twisting quickly out of
the grasp of the other, he grabbed his guitar case and satchel and bolted for 
the opening of the alley.  He allowed himself a mental smirk as he listened to 
the groans of the one he had kicked.  "Stupid goons..." he thought to himself, 
just as the slug shattered the guitar on his back and tore into his shoulder.

The shock and pain made him stagger and fall.  Rough hands grabbed him a second
later, sending white-hot pokers running up and down his arm.  He gagged in pain.
"Wise guy, huh?," queried his tormentor, "Well I don't like wise guys.  Now yer
gonna die, pretty boy..." Just then, a siren interrupted him, and he and his 
companion bolted.  Malachai looked up to see a hover-ambulance roar by.  Despite
himself, he had to laugh.  Then, clutching his arm, which was bleeding heavily 
by now, he staggered off to the one place he could think of to go: Haven's Rest.
He actually made it through the door and was able to mutter, "Honey, I'm 
home..." before collapsing on the floor.
From: Robert.T.Warfield@dartmouth.edu (Robert T. Warfield)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Tech List?
Date: 21 Jan 93 22:17:39 GMT
Organization: Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH
X-Posted-From: InterNews1.0b6@newshost.dartmouth.edu


  Is anyone doing the Technical list/manual that was sugested? If not
then I'll do it.

**********************************************************************
* Arthur, king of the Britons    * King of the who?                  *
* King of the Brittons!          * Who are the Brittons anyway?      *
* I am, you are, we all are the  *                                   *
* Brittons and I am your king!   * Well, I didn't vote for you.      *
**********************************************************************
Robert T. Warfield@dartmouth.edu
From: masticol@cadenza.rutgers.edu (Steve Masticola)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [F&P] One Flew East, One Flew Southwest
Date: 24 Jan 93 03:56:29 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) writes:

>Flyboy waited on the other side of the tunnel, hovering 50 feet up.  Out
>shot the blue hovercar followed by another car... and another... and...
>Where was Fleeter?!

>Shit!  What to do... resume pursuit of the car or look for Fleeter.  Keeping
>his eye on the blue hovercar, Flyboy frantically tried to make up his mind.

"We gotta ditch it," growled Blue. "Ya smeared one of 'em, but
there'll be others, and they'll all be looking for us."

Yellow grunted assent, putting the blue Chromo through an Immelman
that it was never designed to execute. Boffin, helplessly bound in the
rear seat, groaned as the gees built and whipped around. 

Staying close to the bottom traffic levels, Yellow screened himself
from air view. He took a slightly erratic course east at high speed,
to the Marketplace. Landing the Chromo under the roof of the
Park-N-Fly deck, he slid into the space next to a late-model,
metallic-gray Thunderhawk.

"Nice choice," Blue remarked.

"Yeah."

Brandishing a miniwelder, Blue swapped the Thunderhawk's tags with
those of a convenient Econama. Yellow, meanwhile, programmed the
Chromo to take off and head southwest through the Complex in an
evasive course, then dive at high speed thirty minutes later.

In under a minute, both jobs were done. Blue bundled Boffin into the
Thunderhawk, receiving an accusing stare for his trouble. Yellow
activated the Chromo's autopilot and jumped into the Hawk's driver's
seat; both hovercars were on their way.

"That oughta hold 'em for awhile, I hope," Blue commented.

"Yeah."
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: bus2@quads.uchicago.edu (cass roberts buscher)
Subject: arrival new
Reply-To: bus2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Thu, 21 Jan 1993 18:34:30 GMT

A dark skinned man with long black braided hair walked slowly into the bar.  He looked around occasionally, his eyes blocked by a black visor.  His long black overcoat partaily covered the jumpsuit he wore, a jump suit that was decorated with red and black swirling patterns.
	He looked around again then moved towards the bartender.
	"Are there any messages for Francis Xavier?"
	Harry shook his head, he hadn't even heard the name before.  The man sat down and turned his back towards the bar.  INstead gazzing in the direction of the band.  His face devoid of any expression.

ADMIN:
	Francis Xavier (around six feet tall, undertermined weight) is a professional finder, his prices are negotiable based on the job.
From: dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu (Donald A Shaffer)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Re: [ADMIN]: Moderator
Date: 21 Jan 93 20:17:54 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.


>>BTW: Maybe the title should be Advisor instead of Moderator.  That has a less
>>heavy connotation to it.

>  Poor Don's account.
> Anyway, something like advisor would probably be better as a title.
   
  I agree :) AS stated before I really did not want to be a moderator (to much
work) It was enough to just get this started. :)  I wouldnt mind being an 
adviser to situations.  Oh yes, I''m back guys. :)  and PW IS my creation :)

Don Shaffer AKA Mas Hasterson AKA PW
dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu
From: Robert.T.Warfield@dartmouth.edu (Robert T. Warfield)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [John Smith] leaving sickbay
Date: 22 Jan 93 12:53:03 GMT
Organization: Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH
X-Posted-From: InterNews1.0b6@newshost.dartmouth.edu


  John woke feeling much better. His head still hurt, but it was
bearable. Someone must have been monitoring his condition for Dr.
Calcar soon appeared.
  "Good morning Mr. Smith. How are you feeling this morning.?"
  "Well enough," he replied "I'll be even better if I can get out of
here""
  "Well your in luck, as far as I'm concerned you can leave right now.
However, Captain Holt has some things he would like to talk to you
about first."
  "Fine with me. I'd like to thank him for saving my life anyway."

**********************************************************************
* Arthur, king of the Britons    * King of the who?                  *
* King of the Brittons!          * Who are the Brittons anyway?      *
* I am, you are, we all are the  *                                   *
* Brittons and I am your king!   * Well, I didn't vote for you.      *
**********************************************************************
Robert T. Warfield@dartmouth.edu
From: masticol@cadenza.rutgers.edu (Steve Masticola)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: ADMIN: The Flaw
Date: 21 Jan 93 16:57:08 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

This is a short explanation about the Flaw, cf. the Flaw threads
[QMKD] etc. It's not a physical place. It's an instability in the
structure of the Rift itself, which would allow it to be demolished by
someone posessing the right knowledge and a few 10000s of creds worth
of equipment.

Presently my character Boffin, a Galaxy-class theoretical physicist,
is the only person who knows how to exploit the Flaw. However, the
Cartel, a large underworld organization, has blackmailed Boffin into
building a Flaw Device.  Think of it as a bomb that could blow up the
whole Rift.

And please note that I have no intention of letting the Rift be blown
up, and would not think well of someone who did. To that end, please
co-ordinate with me if you want to use the Flaw in a plotline.

- Steve (masticol@cs.rutgers.edu).
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest