Lirpa's XP-47500's Chronicles Part 5

[John R Starvele]

Lirpa's / XP-47500's Chronicles 5


CHAPTER 20

Belted Girls I need to insert the disclaimer again before continuing my Chronicles.

This section is relayed from a secondhand source -Rob.

Several days of Rob working with Jess in his KMI Type III suit, they had my KMI Type IV suit ready. The base medical clinical sent message to have the KMI IV suit prepared for insertion and interment. Jess and Rob moved the barrel of interstitial fluid from the outside barrel dump to next to the KMI Type IV.

Jess commented to Rob, “This one barrel of interstitial fluid cost as much as all the buildings in our shield base. We do not want to spill a drop.”

Jess set pump with a hose in the larger bung of the barrel, while Rob placed another hose in the smaller bung. Rob ran out the extension cord for the pump. Jess connected the suit support cart to the suit. They attached their hoses to the suit support cart with the control cable to the pump. Rob watched, as Jess from the control panel on the support cart bent my KMI Type IV suit over horizontal at the waist. Four equipment technicians stopped their work -repairing droids, rolling over the six-meter (twenty foot) crane and the suit-back spreader jig that they were using. The Technicians lowered the suit-back spreader jig onto my KMI Type IV suit. Rob and Jess jumped up on the scaffolding on either side of the Type IV and began attaching the suit-back spreader jig jaws to the rear entry seam of the suit. With the jig attached, they backed away from the jig, squatting below plain of spreader -for safety. The hydraulic pump whined with the struggle of opening the entry seam of the Type IV suit. The seam ever, ever so slowly yielded to unrelenting pressure of the four massive hydraulic ram’s pull. Slowly, slowly, slowly the rams opened the rear seam centimeter by centimeter revealing the spongy black lining. Seemingly an eternity later there was a sharp rise the hydraulic pump’s stress as the jaws of jig were fully retracted and the entry seam was full open. Jess and Rob jumped up, grabbing the safety retaining pins eight centimeters (three inches) in diameter dropping them into the retaining bores. Several blows with a four-kilogram (nine-pound) hand sledge hammer set pin down its full length seating the head. The hydraulic pressure was released and the jaw of the back spreader came to rest on the saftey pins. Jess and Rob detached the crane. Crane crew changed out the sling for the next step.

The doors of medical corridor burst open. Six medical technicians, surrounding pushing and pulling a heavy gurney with me face down, carrying me toward my KMI Type IV suit. One of those medical technicians was M-65651. Below the bed platform was gaggle of heavy equipment for my life support. I was covered head to toe in the black of the Type IV suit's inner interfacing suit, with not centimeter of my flesh exposed. The med techs had to strip off all my silver flex skin. My feet, leg, were tightly wrapped -skin tight- in a black fabric of woven interlocking flat wide strands composed of many uni-directional lustrous threads. A solid glossy black rigid belt across my back at my waist, resting on top of hip crests plunging down in front to a through crotch branch, meeting the belt in center of my back over my spine with the lowest of the spinal lug eye of my vertebreal sail. An ergonomic style belt by what I have read on Belted Girls. My ergonomic belted was anchored to all the underlying bones. Inside the canoe in my crotch was all the things Rob and I had placed there but they were up-graded to KMI Type IV suit equipment. They made some addition in my sexual uvlva. All my anchors that Rob had implanted were utilized to hold the new KMI equipment.

Also inside the crotch canoe was the intrusion or fecal collector -my anal catheter. It was large and above the anal sphincter it flared into a trumpet bell. There was a smaller tube within the anal catheter for suppository injections.

The woven suit filled the gap between my belt and my three torso plates. The back plate was the largest and contained my tethering sail running the length of my spine. At base and on either side of the tethering sail were paired bone anchors, anchoring the back plate with the sail to each of my vertebrae. The three plates were anchored to my ribs moving in and out assisting my breathing of the fluid. The three plates held the leads from the electrodes implanted in my diaphragm, controlling the contractions of my diaphragm also assisting my breathing of the fluid. The two front plates made use of my nipple piercing and all the skin anchors. The front left side plate had a flange for the direct to my stomach feeding tube and the medication infuser located in the remanences of my esophagus. Above my left breast was second electronic socket for cardiac sensors, pacer and defibrillator.

The woven fabric covered the top of my shoulder, arms, hands and neck up to my breathing hose torc, attached to my back plate at the sail, sitting low on my neck connected to my tracheotomy valve body, penetrating and sealed into my trachea. The hoses made an upward arch on either side of my neck before diving under the bed to my ventilator on the gurney. Thunk pusss, the free air inlet hoses jerked with fluid movement going in my lungs. Thunk sssss the other free air outlet hoses jerked again with fluid being drawn out of my lungs.

The woven cloth wrapped my neck above my breathing torc covering my jaw, my lower face up to and under my helmet and up to and under my visual display visor. Three pressure equalizing tubes went from the tracheal valve of my breathing torc through the fabric to my mouth, and each of my nostrils.

My vision display visor was a large black crescent covering my eyes. The lower edge of my visor held the black fabric sharing the six anchors into my cheek bones. The upper edge of my visor shared eight anchors with my helmet going into my eyebrows . A large exposed cables originated from the visor where my ears would have been, going to ‘The Suit’s Controller’.

My helmet covered the rest of my head and was anchored in my eyebrow bones mastoid process behind my ears and occipital crest above my neck. The helmet covered where my external ears were removed and the Soundar hearing system were implanted. Exposed cables from the Soundar implants joined the cables from my visual display visor routed to my suit’s ‘Controller’. Each one of the gross (one hundred and forty-four) intracranial electrodes also anchoring my helmet. Each of the intracranial electrodes had more exposed wires to the suit’s ‘Controller’ -a conical mound at back of my helmet.

The silver medical technicians maneuvered my gurney in next to my Type IV suit with the life support hoses facing my suit. The crane operator lowered the double or a clamshell sling down to my back. The crane crew attached the clam shell sling to my spinal sail, lifting me off the gurney and rotating me to a vertical position swinging me over to my Type IV suit. My suit stood with entry seam split like a maw of a ravenous predator. One medical technician stood next to my gurney making sure my life support cables and hoses did not snag. A pair of my medical technicians mounted the scaffolding, guiding my legs into my suit as the crane operator lowered me. The lining of the suit’s legs sucked my legs in, swallowing me. With a pair of clicks the crotch canoe / the sanitary appliance centered and locked / sealed into the suit sanitary receptacle. Medical technician on either side bent leaned into my suit to confirm the mating lock and seal of my sanitary appliance with the suit sanitary receptacle, adding a pair of retaining fasteners, moving on to the next step of mating me to my suit.

With my legs in my suit and my chastity belt / sanitary appliance anchored and sealed to the suit’s receptacle, the crane operator slowly lowered me into my suit bending me over at the waist. The medical techs guided my arms into the hungry suit’s sleeves, while the crane operator continuing lowering me into my suit until I was almost in it. A med-tech took up station at the controls of the suit’s support cart, attaching a synchronization cable from the life support equipment under gurney. Two med-tech were on my left side transferring the cables and hoses over from the gurney to my suit: the cable for the diaphragm electrodes, the medication infuser replenishment tube, the feeding tube and little higher up my cardiac cabling.

At the top of my suit two more of my med-tech -one on the right and one on the left- routed my breathing hoses as they guided my head into my suit as the crane operator lowered me the final centimeters. The med-techs transferred my fluid breathing hoses to the suit receptacles. The breathing fluid hose transfer is tricky in that you can not get air in the hoses. They finished my transfer to my suit with the heavy data cable from ‘The Suit Controller’.

All the med-tech retreated, with their part of my suiting done. The med-techs stood by, keeping a watchful eye if needed. Rob and Jess again mounted the scaffolding, inserting long alignment rods through the suit’s flange bolt holes through my spinal sail and into the other side flange bolt holes. Getting the alignment rods in one flange and my spinal sail was not difficult. The difficulty came getting the other end of the alignment rod in opposing side flange. The rod had to be lifted or depressed or moved up or down then hammered in. The movement of rod meant moving me and took some muscle strength and sometimes the assistant of the crane.

Rob and Jess secured three alignment rods and were ready to close the rear seam of my suit. Jess and Rob released the clam sling from me. The crane operator lifted the clam sling out and down to change the sling for the seam jig sling. Rob and Jess reattached the crane to the seam opening jig. With a wave the crane crew energized the hydraulics lifting the spreading jaws off the safety pin. Jess and Rob with the sledges and drift pin drove out the safety pins. The operator shut down the hydraulic pump and let the hydraulic pressure bleed off with a shissssssing, allowing the jaws to closed. The suit seam flanges came together on my spinal sail securing me in my suit. Rob and Jess disconnected the jaws of the jig from my suit and the crane lifted the jig off my suit, placing it back in storage rack.

The crane crew then installed the rivet spinner crimping tool on the end of the crane’s leads. Jess, with tongs retrieved one of the numerous large high strength Fasteinium* rivets from the sand in the electric heated brazier, carefully inserting the glowing orange rivet in one of the suit’s empty seam holes, driving, with a blow from a sledge hammer, the Fasteinium rivet through the seam, seating it. The crane lifted the large ‘C’ shaped rivet spinner crimping tool up to Rob, who guided it into position. Jess on her side also guiding the heavy ‘C’ over the head of the rivet. The crane hydraulics closed the crimping tool on the shaft end of the rivet. The geared electric motor growled spinning the closing, movable end of the crimping tool on then exposed glowing orange rivet shaft, mushrooming the shaft, flattening the shaft.

*Fasteinium a newly discovered metal on Mercury that when heated and quenched the surface was as hard as a diamond and the internal structure strongest known.

With the rivet formed the end or crimping tool retracted and the crane operator moved the tool up off to one side for the next rivet. Jess and Rob directed liquid nitrogen onto the ends of rivet. Before beginning the next rivet.

I was fused / melded with my suit.

Jess at the suit support cart console, entered the commands to bring me upright and my arms back at my sides. Then Jess entered the commands that started the flow of interstitial fluid into my suit, ramming out the air. The pump on the barrel purred as gallons of interstitial fluid flowed into my suit, enveloping me, bathing me. Initially air came out the return hose going back into the barrel. After five minutes slugs of the interstitial fluid began to appear. The slugs became more frequent and after fifteen minutes the flow back into the barrel was almost entirely interstitial fluid. As the return became a solid fluid the pressure of the ingoing fluid rose. The pressure relief valve held the ingoing pressure at 3,450 millibars (fifty pound per square inch) forcing the fluid into every nook and cranny of my suit and me, absorbing any residual air to be carried out of my suit. Jess kept the pump going, holding the pressure for over an hour to guarantee a complete purge of air from my suit. At the end of the purge the pump was shut down and the pressure bleed down to zero and

The crane lifted a suit backpack to Rob and Jess on the platform. They jinked the lower latches into the slots in the suit hips, swing the backpack up over the rear seam bolts and into the top latches at the shoulders of my suit.

Next time Rob would have to change my backpack it would be without the crane.

Jess and Rob disconnected the crane and crane crew rolled the crane off to the next job. Rob and Jess jumped down off the scaffolding. The med-tech standing by began rolling away the scaffolding, ding, ding. Jess pulled the plug on the support cart. Rob plugged in a remote-control box for the droids. Rob walked me out of the equipment hanger and onto the apron with most of my droids. One of the med-tech accompanied us. In the sally port the med-tech morphed into the all-black enigma of M-65651 in her KMI Type VI suit.


CHAPTER 21

Hi Belted Girls another rest period and I can actually go back to relaying my chronicles as I observed them.

No second party disclaimer.

Snap, I was switch back on. From sitting in the infusing chair in the medical dome to - - -. I could see overall dim light with pinpoints of more intense light. I could hear sounds thunk pusss, thunk sssss, whissss, whisss. My mind slowly assembled what my senses were telling me. Thunk pusss, thunk sssss occurred with my breathing. I tried confirming that the sound was coming from breathing by holding my breath. Thunk sssss, holding my breath was rendered impossible by the all-powerful machine taking over my life functions. The predominate color was black with tiny pinpoint sparkles. A line of demarcated to the gray below. Scattered -a formation- were shiny silver figures of my height. Smaller animated figures with lights weaved through the formation - - -. I was standing. I felt strangely different and things did work as I tried to move. I began to realize I was sealed in my suit for the first time. I was outside on the apron in the perpetual night with a formation of my droids. The figures weaving in between were the droid technicians -working. The whisss was the wind blowing the snow. A black and a sliver figure stood below and in front of me. My vision was framed with digital information.

Time and date. It had been two weeks since I was seated in the medical dome.

The outside temperature minus sixty degrees Celsius. (minus Seventh-six degrees Fahrenheit)

From the outside temperature I was comfortably warm in the padding pressing comfortably in from all directions, cocooning me in coziness a solid impenetrable -to most weapons.

I was in a bulwark of a suit I had dreamed of and had often utilized in my gaming software.

Standing in front me was Rob in his KMI Type III and the black figure next to him was the base commander M-65651.

“Rob, I’ll have to work with you on what her telemetry means. The telemetry indicates she is awake.”

Both Rob and M-65651 had my telemetry on their HUD. Rob was waving and saying, “Good morning Lirpa Dear.”

I tried to raise an arm but nothing happened. I was more successful at speaking.

“Zzobzzz.”

That not what I said. M-65651 took charge.

“Rob, she needs to work through her suit boot-up. XP-47500, we will leave you to work through your suit’s tutorials. Rob, you need to go back to work until she needs her backpack changed.”

The suit ‘Controller’ took over. Speaking and printing on my HUD

“First item: You are part of me and we are XP-47500.”

FIRST ITEM YOU ARE PART OF ME AND WE ARE XP-45700

"Who are you?"

WHO ARE YOU?

"I am Mrs. Lirpa Anouk.

“WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!”

WRONG WRONG WRONG

‘The Controller’ punished me. Treating me with what most people would consider pain that I enjoyed. The suit ‘Controller’ again speaking.

“XP-47500, you will -from now on- diligently apply yourself to my instructions and answer my quizzes honestly and quickly. XP-45700, this in necessary so I can develop a matrix to interpret your mental commands. When you signed your employment documents you legal committed to become part of me and accept a new identity.”

“You we are part of me and we are XP-47500.”

YOU ARE PART OF ME AND WE ARE XP-47500

Who are you?

WHO ARE YOU?

"I am Mrs. Lirpa Anouk."

We went into another cycle of pleasure / punishment more intense. Then ‘The Controller went into another cycle of same question and me answering incorrectly. I stubbornly retaining my identity. This went on and on until I tired and wanted to get on with learning about my suit.

“You we are part of me and we are XP-47500.”

YOU ARE PART OF ME AND WE ARE XP-47500

"Who are you?"

WHO ARE YOU?

“I am part of XP-47500. We are XP-47500.”

Correct answers were pleasurable. ‘The Controller’ moved to the next items.

* * *
The suit orientation came to end that day. One of major thing I had learned was: ‘The Suit Controller’ was much more.

IT WAS MY CONTROLLER!

THE CONTROLLER WAS THE ARBITER MY LIFE OR DEATH!

‘The Controller” with no consideration to my inclinations put me into a quiescent period followed by a dormancy period.


CHAPTER: 22

Belted Girls, I very quickly learned to make the most of my enforced quiescence periods. I am into another of my quiescence period. The learning about my suit was protracted, taking my entire first duty cycle. Backpack changes define a duty or service cycle -generally a twenty-four-hour period; however, if necessary, the backpack can be extended up to thirty-seven hours.

My first backpack exchange took place after my first forced dormancy period. It was a learning experience for both of us. M-65651 coached us on what to do. M-65651 had the technicians set a scaffolding behind me for Rob, since the top of my heavy backpack was above his helmeted head when he was standing on packed snow of the apron. With the scaffolding the top of my backpack was at shoulder heigh for Rob. M-65651 positioned Rob on the scaffolding to catch my spent backpack, when I ejected it. M-65651 warned me about what to expect when I eject my spent backpack; however, M-65651’s warning did not truly prepare me for the shut-down of all my suit’s system. I ejected my spent backpack and Rob caught it swing it down and pulling it out of the waist sockets. When I ejected my backpack, it put me into total darkness, absolute silence, and my suit-controlled breathing stopped. It also causes complete immobility; however, I did learn that until the second duty / service cycle. Rob set the ejected backpack aside and stabbed in a fresh backpack swinging up into my shoulder latches, resuming my suit functions. Rob had my first backpack to service for the next duty service cycle.

* * *
My learning about my suit continued into my second duty cycle. Near the end of my activity period. I was commanded to do body movements. I was able to move for the first time since they put me in my KMI Type IV suit. The body movement culminated with a walk and then a jog with M-65651 around the runway.

* * *
Waking for my second backpack exchange, we did things differently, -no scaffolding. I held my extra-long my arms out behind me with my claws making a platform. Rob stood on the platform I made to change my backpack. Me providing a lift and platform for Rob to service my suit where he could not reach became SOP.

* * *
During my third duty cycle my ‘Controller’ established an acceptable electronic handshake with me. This electronic handshake allowed me to vocalize more understandably although still very buzzy and monotone. It also allowed us to begin programming my droids. Rob would bring a droid to me with the remote control box, parking my droid within meter and half (five feet). He would plug in a data cable between the droid’s data charge socket and my support cart socket. File transfer bars would fill my display, filling or deleting depending on whether the file was downloading or uploading. Many files came and went as my first droid was assimilated -D-47523. It took several hours to do a complete incorporation. A lengthy familiarization period followed.

I had to learn how to deal with being in two places at once.

I could see, hear and feel what my droid did to the point it would overwhelm me.

I was actually in the droid.

When it came to movement it was like having double of everything.

Which foot am I moving?

Slowly I learned how to make my Droid-47523 do what I wanted. It became more of telling myself what I wanted D-74523 to do.

D-74523 was my equal in intelligent -D-47532 was an electronic copy of my suited self.

* * *
Several duty cycles passed and we had Droids: D-47595, D-47556, D-47594, D-47574, D-47515 D-47523 fully operational. With getting them operational we had to run cabling to recharge stations for plugging them in during their dormancy period. We in formation did calisthenic and went for our first jog. As duty cycles came and went, we added more droids and more charging station. We also worked on doing different tasks simultaneously. Rob and the technicians managed to get sixty-six of my droids operational two thirds of my suit’s full compliment. The rest were not worth trying to revive.


CHAPTER: 23

Hi Belted Girls. My chronicles may be little disjointed and sketchy from here to the end because I do not think your reader want a every gory detailed of everyday life in the oil fields; even if it is in the Antarctic.

Duh plane, duh plane arrived again bringing us seismic sensors, blasting equipment and drilling equipment. Also, the duh plane had two passengers -expert artic oil geologist. An expert is someone that knows more and more about less and less until He/she/it knows all there is to know about nothing. An expert is anyone twenty-five miles or more away from home with a breifcase. The oil geologist were definately more than twenty-five miles away from home. We pulled the drilling equipment off duh plane. When duh plane departed it took all the un-repairable droids and half the shield base staff. The base felt empty.

Out on the apron, we practiced setting-up and take-down the drilling rig until we became proficient in preparation. Meanwhile the Geologists took over a quarter of the equipment hanger with desks, computers, large screens and old fashion maps on stands. For several days the geologists studied their maps and their satellite images and ran models. Frequently the geologist vehemently argued. Then the Geologist started making surveying trips with the Snow Tracs to possible sites.

The geologist sent us out to the first of their promising site for further exploration.

A major part of the shield base staff went out to make the preliminary base set-up for us much as would occur if we were on the moon. In the Snow Tracks were our supplies, the cabling for my droid’s charging stations. Towed behind the Snow Trac was a base hut for Rob, and a generator.

When our base was assured, we dragged the drilling rig on its skids to our first base. All my droids with the tow ropes looked like the sixty-six-mule team from the old Borax commercials. I and my droids on snow shoes un encumbered could make seventy kilometers per hour (forty-three miles per hour). Towing the drill rig we average thirty kilometers per hour (nineteen miles per hour) which is a respectable speed roughly half the top speed of the snow trac. We arrived onsite after mid-day by our clocks in the perpetual darkness of Antarctic Winter. We started the set-up of our rig on one of the geologists flagged locations. We got the tower up but not much else before our quiescent period came upon us. I and my brood march into our parking spots. Rob ran behind my droids up and down the eight rows plugging my girls into their charging stations.

With my droids charging Rob again did a more detailed inspection of each of the droids, making repairs as necessary. There were not many repairs for our first day out in the field. At the end of our dormancy period, I got my fresh backpack for another duty cycle.

On the second day we were able to start drilling. Ice is easer to drill through than bedrock so the boring went rapidly, which kept us busy frequently add bit drive extensions as we plough trough two hundred and thirty meters (seven hundred and fifty-five feet) of ice to get to the bedrock. On third day we reached bedrock, setting the first of the seismometer sensors. Two more bores of slightly varying depth of ice to finish setting the seismometer. The last bore in the center of the three was for an explosive charge that we had to set in the bedrock so it took the longest to drill. We exploded the charge. The seismometer recorded the shock waves and we began packing for the next site the geologist had flagged for us. There were five exploration sites that the Geologist pawed over the data from.
 

CHAPTER: 24

Dear Belted Girls. This will be my final part of my chronicles of how I got on the moon.

Geologist made a decision as to where our first bore would be.

Our base was transported and we began operations. We hit bed rock on third day in operation and then it slowed as we hammered centimeter by centimeter through some stubborn bed rock. A week later we struck oil. It was not a gusher of a strike, but we still had to cap the wellhead take down the derrick, set a pump and set up storage facilities all dug into the ice shield three meters (ten feet) below the surface covered over by corrugated roofing for protection from the Antarctic extremes. My girls were busy with shovels pipes and wrenches.

The crude from our well was a light crude. Unrefined or straight from the wellhead, it could be used in our base heaters. It could also be used to fuel the diesel engines of our generators and our Snow Tracs. The production was sufficient for the drilling base and the main shield base operations with little left over.

Financial analysis of our venture in Antarctic proved the venture to be viable and profitable for future endeavors. So much so, that they considered using our model for earth-side oil ventures. Rob, I and my sixty-six girls were on the way to moon as the next couple came into shield base Antarctic for their transformation and training. Their well came in as well and started paying off the Antarctic and Lunar investments.

Well, Belted Girl readers, I hope you enjoyed my chronicles of how I got on the moon drilling for water in the shadows of south lunar pole craters.

XP-47500

Lirpa's / XP-47500 Chronicles are at an ended.

[John R Starvele]

Autor’s note:

I originally submitted the story in sections as I finished them. I grew disenchanted with the way the story was proceeding and viewership was sparce so I never finished the tale. Several years passed and I did some tinkering but nothing serious and nothing posted until Libby, Libby, Libby did an update to her diary. Her update inspired me to repost the revised version of Yadza Zooqus Space Warrior and finish the Lirpa’s Chronicles. This time I brought the story to a conclusion before I posted it, that way you do not have to write your own ending.

All original postings have been edited and replace with the revisions. So please take second look even if the posting date looks old. Some of the revisions are subtle other are major. This is posting is the end of Lirpa's / XP-47500 Chronicles.

I do not know why but I am not that fond of Lirpa even in the revised version. Perhaps she is too easily maneuvered. Perhaps the all silver body lacks the flair of contrasting colors and devices.

John Я Starvele

[MartinII]

Great story!