The Great and The Good, (a Great! CAPTAIN ROBERTS!!! tale)

[Cannonshop]

The Great and The Good

"I'm happy with the ship…

…I have, Mister President."  Director-Captain Amanda Roberts, Privateer for the Outworlds Alliance and recently public figure, insisted.  "The Evanescent is my ship, reclaimed from obscurity by my hand, crewed by people I recruited.  It's my home."


"Ahm, 'it' not 'she'?"

"Erin's got the personality." Amanda said, gesturing out the glassed window-screens of Qatre Bell yards and the imposing bulk of a Newgrange that is probably the most infamous single ship in history.  "It would be too weird, giving her orders-she's got Centuries of life on me, and she's not really right for a Privateer.  Too big."

"Too…big…" President Avellar frowned, "I can see that…have you thought about the offer from the Khans?"

"Erin has to make the choice, I was serious about releasing her from slavery, sir.  If they approach her with a good offer? She'll join their fleet.  If not?" the girl shrugged, "I don't know.  Part of being free is making those decisions and living with the consequences.  Have YOU considered offering her Citizenship?"

"We're debating it." he admitted, "There is a lot of pushback from a lot of people over that-you dumped a mess in my lap…and have you considered my other offer?"

"I'm not ready to face a family that remembers me while I don't remember them." she denied flatly.  "It can't be fair to them-they remember Amanda Roberts, age thirteen, who loved romance novels and wasn't…what I've become."

"We all change as we grow, Amanda." he told her, "They're hurting…and you're here, it's one jump away."

****

Everyone comes from somewhere.  Jeremiah Sword Roberts  had been a FAC with the Outworlds Military Corps fifty years ago, before the Snow Ravens showed up, when the Outworlds were barely hanging on.  His son, Jonah, didn't have to serve in the militia, never had to attend a single drill, never had to watch bandits fly away with anything…at all.

But Jeremiah had.  The old man had spent a career balancing between home and duty, so his boy could grow up in peace.

That son had married a Loudly pacifist woman whom Jeremiah never quite got on with, and they'd given the old man a grand-daughter who took after the old man, and two sons who took after their mother.

Well, that was until not terribly long ago, at least, when the kind of chaos that Jeremiah had served to prevent, tore its way into the life he'd hoped he'd built, with a raid that stole twelve children from the Community School.

It damn near broke him, seeing every hope he'd believed in smashed like that in what was supposed to be his golden years.

The Peace he'd fought for until he couldn't hardly walk anymore shattered and losing the youngest one, the one who loved adventure stories and shocked her parents with wanting to go outward instead of being a farmer, like her grandfather had once dreamed of (but for very different reasons).

A man in his nineties is teetering on the edge of death anyway.  Jeremiah held on because unlike his son, he'd learned to assimilate tragedy in ways he'd prayed once that his boy would never have to.

Then they came looking for clues, and gave the old man hope.

Which led here to the base over Qatre Bell, a base he'd last seen when he mustered out back in '85.

Thirty some odd years ago.

"We all change as we grow, Amanda.They're hurting…and you're here, it's one jump away." The President was even older than Jeremiah, but hale in a way that only a truly good Calderon could be, they came around the corner, where the corridor opens into a small cafe'-shopette, where Jeremiah was resting his injured legs.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet." President Avellar continued, gesturing at Jeremiah.

She hesitated, there was a flicker of…something there.

"Amanda Roberts, this is Jeremiah 'Sword' Roberts, Your Grandfather." Mitchell continued.

'You look like hell." she blurted, "Sir! I mean-"

"So do you." Jeremiah kept control of his voice.  "My god they chewed you up good.  Mister President, a little time, please?"

"Of course…you two just…get acquainted?" The President said, and diverted to another area.

"So, you don't remember me."

"No sir." she said, "you heard?"

"Amazingly despite twenty five years of gunfire and explosions, My hearing is fine, it's the legs and spine that got screwed up."  Jeremiah told her, "You should know, we didn't stop hoping, didn't stop looking for you after they took you…and it's not the first time for me, seeing someone who's lost their memories of home and family."

"You're a veteran." she said.

"Yes, I am, I was a Forward Air controller-a ground spotter, for the aviation. Drop into an area, scout it, find the bastards and angle the airstrikes in, or find the spot to land ours so they could go in and try to save people, or stop the raiders before they can get away…but that was a long time before you were born, Amanda.  By the time you knew me, I was an agronomist with the local Grange association and ran for Alderman a few times-never won it, mind you, but ran for it a lot. Your Mother actually won when you were eight, after I'd stopped trying to convince the neighbors I could be a good representative."

"Where are they?"

"Your parents?? They're back home.  As a Retiree, I have a certain amount of leeway in my time, I don't have to run the farm, I don't have an office to run, or board meetings to attend, or church meetings to organize."  he gave her a lopsided smile, showing grayish ceramic teeth and rough reconstructive surgeries and old grafts.  "Not that I'd do that last bit.  I was never much for the Faith, too stubborn and too prideful, too many sins in my past that I won't repent."

"I don't remember them, I…barely felt something familiar looking at you, sir." she said.

"That's what I was told." Jeremiah answered, "But you remembered your hallows-eve costume."

"Pardon?"

"Your jacket." he said, nodding to her, "Long pirate-coat, cutlass on one side, and a ridiculously sized handgun on the other, bandana made out of cloth, only yours has some seepage from an unhealed wound…but you're dressed just like you were that october when you were ten, staying at your Grandfather's place because I would let you go out tricking and treating for Samhain eve, while your parents objected to the whole thing."  and then, he sighed, "The eye? That's new, and you're older of course…and you've been out swashing and buckling."
"It…it wasn't what I thought." she said.

"But you want to keep doing it?"

"I do."  she asserted, "they need us Sir."

"You didn't call me 'sir', you called me 'Gran'ther', or 'Grandfather'...but then, that was then." He mourned.  "You're doing your best?"

"Yes si-Grandfather." she told him.

"THAT is what matters most." he told her.  "I'm proud of you, Amanda, proud that you survived, proud you're making your life.  I'm only sorry about how it happened to you-I worked my ass off to try and prevent what happened…and failed."

"It's not your fault!": she took his hand in both of hers. 

"Isn't it?" he asked, "I shouldn't have stopped fighting them about security, Amanda, I worried that something like what happened-the school being raided? I worried about it, argued we needed to keep the measures up…and when I argued too much I let them tell me to shut up because I'm an old man…and they took you, and then they took your family from you.  I'm so sorry…"

"I got them." she said, "I got them all. And I'm going to stop the next ones." she told him, "I'll get them, and if I can't stop them from attacking, I'll bring the vengeance."

"Your mother would be appalled…but I know that oath, I swore it once a long time ago…"  He regarded her, "I'm proud of who you are, Amanda, even if who you are is only a stranger now.  Be your best self.  I love you, punkin."

The light went out in his eyes on the next breath.

There was no further breath.

Medtechs with the best technology available, were unable to resuscitate Supervisor Jeremiah "Sword" Roberts, age 95, cause of death?  'He died'.

[Kyryst]

D@3N. That is a tearjerker. He went out knowing his grandchild was alive and doing what she wanted, instead of being the one that buried her. That is the way he wanted to go, before his grandchildren.

[Cannonshop]

Decisions at the National level

"The covert naval facility in the outer system of Northsun,

... the Star League maximum security site on Devl's Breath, the SLIC's covert base in the Joan's Post system…is anyone else noticing a pattern here?"  Acton Howe, Loremaster of Clan Snow Raven, scowled as he asked the question.

"They were all being used by the same Bandit group-the Sons of Plunder? Or that none of them were in remnant records from before the Exodus?"  Khan McKenna suggested, "Or, that the President's pet Privateer found those facilities for us?"

"A lot of the rescued personnel at Tresspass claim to originate from the Bannerhoft system." President Avellar stated.  "There was an SLDF garrison we know about on Bannerhoft before the collapse.  I'm thinking it might be a key to finding out who the 'Sons of Plunder' really are, where they came from for real, and why they have such a large, and largely well equipped, force without anyone knowing a damned thing about them."

"The two of you conspired on this, didn't you?" Lynn McKenna's tone was cool, "You want to send a mission to Bannerhoft."

"The planet dropped off the map, and it is more than a single jump from any known neighboring systems in the Unincorporated area.  We should find out more-past records show that world had over ten million residents and an SLDF garrison prior to the Amaris Coup, and dropped off the record sometime in or around the turn of the 29th century, at least, to the best my Watch people can confirm by comparing our OLD charts, to the ones on file here on Alpheratz."

"You want to send your 'privateer' force out there." McKenna said.

"We're building it, we might as well use it."  Avellar noted, "Have the Privateers push out boundaries and make contacts, or secondary re-contacts, or identify targets for Snow Raven forces to remove bandit kings before they get bigger?  There were two thousand abductees from Bannerhoft on the Erinyes and another three in pens on the ground at Tresspass-if nothing else, it's a major world and if we help them, they can be a good source to have bolstering that border.  If we do nothing, eventually we'll still have to do something, because they'll be a manpower source and a problem…and it lets your Warriors stretch their legs and get some combat time in if it turns out to be as bad as it might be."

"Gather intel first." Lynn determined, "The touman will provide minimal support for this operation, and Howe, I want your Watch officers deeply involved in the execution, as much fun as reading about 'The GREAT CAPTAIN Roberts' is, she took an insane and stupid risk with her boarding action against the Erinyes, if it is stupid but successful, it was still stupid, you just got lucky."

"What about the second Bonnie sitting in dock at Joan's Post?" Howe asked.

"Still in work, and we still have not decided who gets it once completed." McKenna stated, "your girl Roberts is an Outworlds Patriot, for the second ship, I want someone loyal to the Clan, or the Alliance of the Clan and the Outworlds in that center seat.  The second ship is going to have significant firepower potential improvements and structural updates-closer to a truly effective warship, it needs a proper Warship officer."

"SO for the Bannerhoft mission, it's Roberts again?" President Avellar asked.

"Logically, I have to say a provisional 'yes', I want to examine the possibility of giving group command to someone who is not…does not hear voices in their head or have gaps in their memories, quiaff??" McKenna suggested.

"Who's on the retiring list?" President Avellar asked, "I mean, among your serving flag officers, who is close to 'due date' for your up-or-out system and would accept the posting?"

"I am having a bit of a time keeping our people from volunteering to join the Privateer fleet." Lynn confessed, "between draw-downs and peace on both our national borders, I have a lot of senior warriors who want to join this, and I must still retain an experienced core cadre for the Touman and the Fleet-even reduced as it is."

"The real question then, is 'trials or boards'?" Avellar suggested, "Trial system would highlight combat capability and tactical knowledge, but the mission of the Privateer Fleet is largely intelligence and law-enforcement mixed with exploration and emergency response. Combat is only supposed to happen when things go wrong."

"We will do a mix, including vetting through the Watch, perhaps?" Howe offered, "Screen out the ones likely to go rogue or attack without knowing the target, then screen out the ones who do not understand this is long-term patrol duty, block most of the…how did your legislators put it?"

"Gory Glory Seekers." President Avellar stated, "like Miss Roberts, if we're being honest here."

"Most of that, I suspect, is an act." McKenna stated, "The girl evidences too much empathy to be a true glory-hound, and takes direction too well to be narcissist enough to be a problem, despite her silly affectations.  Here is what we are going to do;  The Bannerhoft mission will be handled by OWS Evanescent and a cluster from a reconstituted Kappa Garrison Galaxy, under a reliable Star Colonel, with jumpship backup, agreed?"

"I take it that pacification operations on Tresspass are still going well?  I seem to recall you telling me we would need to station that cluster there to prevent a backslide…"

"We are bringing up another Cluster, mostly Freebirths and recruits but with a Trueborn officer of good character, I want to give over-all mission direction to that officer." Lynn stated.

"I think we need more prep." Mitchell said, "It is two jumps from the nearest star system we've got a military presence in, at minimum, we need to investigate the off-spectrum stars between Tresspass and Bannerhoft to figure out how the SLDF was supplying and supporting their garrison, and if there are any of those facilities left, repairable or not, and if not, and if there aren't any, we'll need to arrange a tanker full of fuel for hot-charges and a plan to insert a stopover station to secure links if there isn't a recharging station or Naval depot between the systems we know about, and the system we're looking at."

[EAGLE 7]

   I do believe the next ship captured by the GPR will be named after “ Jeremiah 'Sword' Roberts”  maybe OWAS SWORD?

[arcticwyrm245]

Ooofhh, the feels, the feels man

[nerd]

Meeting Grandpa, and him being proud, and then he passes, is just a kick in the pants.

And then comes the high level plotting.

[Daryk]

Cannonshop seems to be on the EXACT opposite work schedule from me...  ::)

Amanda is going to be SUPER charged by that, and Desmond will exploit it...  :-\

Her grandfather is completely justified in his pride, and I think Amanda will FEEL that.  Desmond will be initially confused, then RUN with it...  ^-^

[Euphonium]

That was a beautiful opening post, Cannonshop, thank you.

[Cannonshop]

Cannonshop seems to be on the EXACT opposite work schedule from me...  ::)

Amanda is going to be SUPER charged by that, and Desmond will exploit it...  :-\

Her grandfather is completely justified in his pride, and I think Amanda will FEEL that.  Desmond will be initially confused, then RUN with it...  ^-^

I DO work 3rd shift at Boeing, so probably yeah.  (My 'day job' hours begin at 9PM and end sometime in the morning, I get to see rush-hour for the normal people on my way home to bed.)

[Daryk]

At least your commute isn't too bad... :)

Mine is fine in the mornings (first train of the day FTW, hike or no!), but the evenings are always train roulette to make the bus for that last mile (something I'm MUCH less interested in hiking after a solid 12 hours in the five-sided PowerPoint collider)...

[Cannonshop]

Preparations

"My father in law…

…should never have been permitted on that transport!"  Natalie Roberts is in her forties, she'd raised two sons, and most of a Daughter in a strict, pacifist household.  "He was ninety Five years old!!"

She had to interrupt a successful re-election campaign to the District Seat, to travel to Qatre Bell.

Not that she wouldn't have done it anyway, if she'd known who he was there to see.  She still doesn't.

"Mrs. Roberts, if you wish, we can see to a proper funeral-"

"With your circus of shooting blanks and flags!" she scowled, "NO! I will not have-"

There was a step on the deck behind her, and a girl's voice, "I think you're wrong."

Natalie's eyes went wide and she spun, "Amanda?"

"Supervisor Jeremiah 'Sword' Roberts was a great man, who saved hundreds, even thousands of lives."  Amanda stated, "He served his nation, his people, his community with honor and distinction."

Up close, Natalie could see the scarring, the stitches, the skinseal.  Her daughter, scarred from the conflicts she'd tried so hard to shelter her children from.  "It is you, amanda?"  the young woman was both her daughter, and not, right down to wearing a 'realistic' duplicate of that absurd Samhain Festival costume's long coat and under-suit.  But the cutlass was a vibroblade instead of pasteboard and wood, and the pistol was not cobbled from plumbing fixtures and copper piping.

"So they tell me. Back on topic, Mrs. Roberts." Amanda said, "Supervisor Jeremiah Roberts was a man who risked his life so that normal, good people could live normal, good lives.  It's not 'theater' it's not 'a circus' to honor that."

"Amanda! I'm your mother!!"

"I'm sorry, I don't have all those memories." the stranger in her daughter's body stated.  "I know I should know you, but…they cut me, and…it's gone.  Whoever your daughter was, I'm not her anymore-she was cut out by butchers trying to create a terrorist."

"We can bring you back!" frantic hope in her eyes, Natalie had forgotten about her anger at the transport department official who approved Jeremiah's journey to Qatre Bell.  "You can remember, you can come back! Come HOME!!"

"This meeting is by presidential order, Ma'am." Amanda said calmly, "It's part of my mandated therapy, to keep my Letter of Marque…I don't know you, and my home is my ship now."

"Mandated Therapy?"

Amanda sighed, "because in thirty-one-fourteen, I carved up four members of Clan Snow Raven's Touman while hijacking rations from a military transport vessel in orbit-it was only a few months after I escaped from the men who did this to me, I was starving and isolated.  I'm sure the person I was before I was abducted would have thought of contacting family first…but I'm not her."

"We can put you back together!" Natalie insisted, "God brought you back, Amanda!!"

"No, that was President Avellar." Amanda said stiffly, "He made it a condition for a favor I asked-and a condition for keeping my letter of marque as an Outworlds Privateer."

"A  PIRATE!!"

"The greatest pirate you'll ever see." Amanda said, "Only maybe not so much a pirate, as an agent of the Court and State with wide discretion, and my area of responsibility is the whole of the Unincorporated areas of the Outworlds…because that's who I am now-hunting bad guys, freeing people."

"You…became a warrior!" , more horror in Natalie's expression.

"No, warriors fight wars, Ma'am." Amanda said, "I don't fight wars, I kill bad guys and save good people."

"They turned you into a killer."

"I'm good at it." Amanda said dully, "Parsing Supervisor Jeremiah's OMC records, I've got more kills in three years than he managed in a forty year career, I am single-handedly responsible for breaking a reinforced Battalion of slavers, and was instrumental in breaking nearly a brigade of their cohorts with my crew.  Warriors fight who they're told, I chose to take on the Sons of Plunder, and I executed my captors after breaking out of their restraints.  I don't know if the Amanda you knew, your daughter, could have done that without becoming someone like me...but I don't remember much about her-it was cut out of my head ma'am.  I know your face because you're on file, but I can't imagine more than is in the domestic files on you and the family."

"We can bring you back!!" Natalie insisted, "Please!!"

"I have a few weeks off-my executive officer is getting a re-stock and crew leaves. I can stay until November." Amanda told her, "but no later, we ship back for the Unincorporated systems in November on a tour."

"Tour?"

"To hunt Bandits and Slavers and the kind of people who cut my head open and took my memories." Amanda clarified.  "To stop them from doing it to someone else, and because that's what you do, when you're THE GREAT CAPTAIN ROBERTS!!..."  Natalie could hear the emphasis, the theatricality and the exclamation points implied more than spoken.

"Then come home with me, to see your family in more than file images and…and…Questions!!" Natalie insisted.

"Condition." Amanda stated, "You will honor Jeremiah's will regarding funeral arrangements, and let him have a burial with all honors-he deserves at least that much."

[ThePW]

Helm, Station Keeping. Heh, 3rd Shift. Do you work on Rhinos (Super Hornets) or civilian birds?

[Intermittent_Coherence]

Do they even think it's safe to let her back?
She's functional and all that, but the trauma is real. Along with the cut out portions of her brain and documented lethal responses to certain situations.

[Cannonshop]

Helm, Station Keeping. Heh, 3rd Shift. Do you work on Rhinos (Super Hornets) or civilian birds?

I've worked 737, 747, and 777, and am currently working with the 777x program, so it's all civilian.  *(I missed my chance with P-8, I didn't want to go back to day-shift and I live north of Lynnwood, so back-to-everett after 2 years in renton back in 2009)

[DOC_Agren]

tagging in

RIP Jeremiah Sword Roberts  :'(

Thank you for letting Amanda being a Pirate for Halloween, it seems to be one of those things her mind kept.   :thumbsup:

[Cannonshop]

And then, there's other plans

Some men….

…live a life of violence, and do so by choice and nature.  The efforts to dismantle private military contractors, private 'mech ownership groups, and the Mercenary Trade under the Republic has left a lot of these men without gainful employment for a variety of reasons from poor reputations, to bad luck, to narrow specialties that aren't in demand.

Some men live to see worlds burn, and barring that, will sell their services to any employer.

"This is the target? I don't understand, I mean, the money's really good, but this isn't exactly hitting a fortified residence or politician, why is it that good?"

The Contact, Mister Smythe, shrugged, "does this mean you're not interested? I have other prospects…"

"I didn't say that, but a reasonable amount of risk assessment seems wise, your principle is offering a hell of a lot for what amounts to a low-impact hit."

"The target's more dangerous than that."

"More dangerous. HOW much more dangerous? Is there going to be serious security? Political sponsors?"

"Sufficient to justify four million up front." Mr. Smythe said, "you'll have to do your own recon, but the target needs to be eliminated by the first of November, no later.  That ought to be enough pre-financing for you to handle your own recon and recruit your team.  This is kind of a rush job, and my principle doesn't want splash-back."

"Hence the anonymity.  Okay…so why me?" 

"Distance and disconnection.  Your past with Lohengrin isn't likely to be in their databases, nor the reason you're no longer with that agency.  You have a selection of the right training and traits, and you're definitely not someone my principal would be logically connected to, of course.  Avoiding getting caught is on you, and if you can make it…creative? That's a plus for this work."

"Rush job, what's the deadline?"

"End of October, early November timeframe.  Eliminate the target, get out clean, collect the other half of your fee. Simple enough."

The gun for hire mulled it over, then took the job.

Smythe watched him leave the bar, and checked the time.

The next one would be arriving soon, for the same deal, with the same target.  The strategy was simple enough-throw enough amatuers and low-end pros, and they'll miss the real team, the real objective, and the real operation.

[Giovanni Blasini]

At least your commute isn't too bad... :)

My commute is to fall out of bed, stumble halfway down the hall, and press the power button on my laptop.

The problem is once every four weeks, or when things get really bad, that can happen at literally any time of the day or night, occasionally for something stupid, but occasionally because one to five hospitals have had some issue occur that's causing major impact to patient care.

[Giovanni Blasini]

The next one would be arriving soon, for the same deal, with the same target.  The strategy was simple enough-throw enough amatuers and low-end pros, and they'll miss the real team, the real objective, and the real operation.

I suspect Desmond won't miss it.

[Daryk]

I suspect you're right...  8)

Triple Core Processors are frighteningly effective...  :o

[Cannonshop]

Staff Work

One hundred twenty one...

…stomachs to fill, pairs of lungs that want air, bodies that need water….and that's just the Evanescent, never mind the bases at Northsun or Joan's Post, or the garrison at Devil's Breath, or the ongoing efforts at Tresspass.

"Amatuers study tactics, professionals study Logistics…no, that's not quite right." Larry was addressing a group of Alliance officers.  "Professionals don't just study logistics, they live them, they make them happen.  If you want to argue that, you can look at the mothball list, and compare it to the active lists-including which ships will be put into mothball or scheduled for scrapping in the next fiscal year, because the Clan and the Alliance both, can't keep them operational and in fit condition to serve."

He paced to the left of the display, "We're having to work that out without having an in-built training apparatus or dedicated support infrastructure in the Unincorporated Region.  I'm the executive officer, the 'second in command' of a 240,000 ton corvette with a nominal crew of 121 souls, that last saw an update twenty some years before the Amaris Coup.  There's a reason why most of the notable actions by the OWS Evanescent have been done using the smallcraft bays instead of the main armament.  We don't have enough spare parts to fix the ship if anything major is broken."

This elicited polite laughter from his audience.

"But, the ship has used the main armament in the recent past-with notable results mostly in terms of instinctually knowing what to use that armament on."

The player lit, showing an Invader class jumpship with three variously-colored military dropshps being dispatched with sudden violence.

"The targets in this composite footage, are a battalion of the Bandit group 'The Sons of Plunder', a force we ran up against at Devil's Breath, Joan's Post, and finally Tresspass."

He let it play out for them, then rewound, and played it for them again.

"The Evanescent is almost ideal for the role, which is why the Alliance issued our Letter of Marque, and why we're holding a service chit for Quatre Belle shipyard that put a vessel that is essentially under contract, ahead of some of your regular service ships at the fueling docks, and why some of you have been offered the opportunity to join us out on the frontier, in the Unincorporated Regions, instead of whiling away your gray years as Solahma Infantry or Clan Police."

He froze the player, "This, then, is the pitch; When you sign up with the Privateers, you're signing up to do a job. It's a job that someone else might be better trained for, or better equipped to do.  There will be long periods where you feel like you're doing nothing, or nothing of importance, where it feels like you've been abandoned, and the paperwork involved will push the limits of your tolerance…but all of that, is necessary to get the results we're here in creation to get."

The image changed.  "Joan's Post, It took the NorthSun Militia twenty hours to finish off the Bandit garrison, Sixteen thousand people were saved from a life of slavery or worse.  Devil's Breath, four hundred people saved, Tresspass, nearly forty thousand natives living a life worse than animals live, plus six thousand, two hundred, fifty eight civilians saved from slavery, mutilation, torture, or worse."  he crossed his arms, "nine out of ten waking hours will be boredom or frustration, the last tenth will be a mix of active emotion and significant violence, the pay sucks, you won't have the kind of Glories you're used to, the khans and the President each have good reasons to down-play your position and role.  There will be lots of wondering what's going on and not knowing what's coming, or what you'll stumble across, you may find you're not using the expensive and extensive educations and training you've developed in ways you expected, if at all…but it's worth it to me, and it might be worth it to you.  At the very least, we have a retirement fund, so when you're genuinely ready to hang it up, you won't have to work at quik-e-mart or starve, and nobody's going to make you wear a paper hat or a hairnet."

He nodded to the side, and a young man with belter tattoos started handing out packets.

"Detailed here, is your benefits package as offered to Outworlds Privateers, including financial compensation scale, medical coverage, survivor benefit program, and share formulas for vessels taken as prize.  Most of you will spend at least some time with the Northsun Station or Joan's Post station staff, until a boat needs crewers or officers, or becomes available.  Included is also a brief introduction into the common regulations of the Privateer service, and available training slots for your continuing professional development.  Some of you, already have those skills and may be called on to provide mentoring or training for non-officer personnel-there's a pay scale, it's not like civil service, you aren't working for free.  We're not 'mercenaries' in the traditional sense, so if you're here for the princely paycheque, you can leave the room-the pay isn't as good as I was pulling at Oh-Three in the Federated Suns, and for my part, as XO of the Evanescent and one of the senior officers in the Privateers, I'm pulling Oh-Five levels of responsibility for just a hair more than Oh-Two pay…not including bonuses from completed operations against Bandits and other undesirables."

He waited as Mister Samuel finished distributing the information packets.

"Each tour is time-limited, or by mission.  You can quit any time we're in port, as I said, it's not a regular military or even militia, there are bonuses to your base pay for what amounts to working for the Snow Raven Watch, or for Alliance Intelligence as an embedded officer, and that bonus doubles for embedded officers who also step up to fill the role of a ship or unit's intelligence officer.  The unincorporated zone has a nickname, you've all heard it-'the Wastes'.  Well, we're out in the wastes, putting down the kind of outfits that make them a waste.  That's a job that requires, at times, formal intelligence gathering and assessment.  One of the fundamental requirements under our letter of marque, is to provide supplemental service to the Watch.  You can accurately state that sitting in my chain of command, right between Captain Roberts and The President, is the Loremaster of Clan Snow Raven…because that is an accurate statement-and the Loremaster, of course, reports to the Khans first, and the President second."

He grimaced, "Those interests may come into conflict, so to be absolutely crystal clear, forget any of your political leanings, ideas, ideals, ideologies, alignments, and associations. At our level, the only interest is objective accuracy in reporting, assessment, or analysis.  Being in the Privateer fleet means you don't set national policy, and you don't have a voice in how it is set.  The only impact you can hope to have, is getting accurate and Objective information to the policy makers as quickly and effectively as possible.  This is objectively less power than you had as Warriors in the Touman."

A few warriors got up, and walked out.

But not nearly as many as Larry had feared would go upon realizing they were giving up any political future in the Clan for this.

"So, each of you has your packet, study it tonight, those of you who show up tomorrow can interview with the board for an enrollment and an assignment.  Have a good rest of your day, ladies and gentlemen."

[Known Glitch]

Quatre Belle.  Still enjoying where you're going with the crew.  :thumbsup:

[ThePW]

I suspect you're right...  8)

Triple Core Processors are frighteningly effective...  :o

Wait? Thats the scar that wont heal? I thought Desmond resided in that fake eye?

[Daryk]

He's got control of that too...  8)

Here's the main thing about a Triple Core Processor: any skill that relies on INT gets a +5 (!) bonus.  Even without Natural Aptitude, Desmond can put Larry to shame strategically...  ^-^

And a quick update: I've completed Mister Samuel and am now working up Lori's stats.  Clanners are SO annoying to build...  ::)

[mikecj]

That's such an Etienne comment... we're doing Ravens now, not Falcons!

[Daryk]

Ravens are sadly just as annoying as Falcons to build...  ^-^

[Cannonshop]

Accrued Leave Time and Bereavement

One of…

…the nice things about having partnered with an Aerospace focused Clan, is the development of certain forms of infrastructure, such as regular scheduled passenger service between major worlds in the Alliance, scheduled to the point that the majority of any given travel between worlds within the borders of the Raven Alliance can be done without waiting for the jumpship to recharge, because there's a scheduled route arriving, and leaving daily from the zenith or nadir point.

Most of these 'light hauler' routes use old, but good condition Merchant or Invader class jumpships, though a few, like the Quatre Bell to Alpheratz run, have larger ships to accommodate more cargo.

For the routes running to smaller worlds, it's not 'daily' but 'weekly' schedules.  Compare this to places like the Federated Suns or Draconis Combine, where even capital world routes are weekly to monthly at best? With more far-flung settlements being bi-monthly or quarterly?  The smaller size, and thus, shorter radius favors the fleet Clan Snow Raven used to evacuate the Homeworlds.

It really does.  The increased domestic traffic alone, justifies a lot of industries that have gone 'fallow' in the region in the past centuries. This, in turn, has worked with President Avellar's 'long road' program to give the incorporated region of the Outworlds something it hasn't had since the Reunification War era:

A strong economy.  The so-called 'peace dividend' is real here, something visibly happening for those from a generation where the Outworlds was a struggling, impoverished, preyed-upon victim of everyone from the Major States to bandit kings, barely treading water and in constant danger of drowning.

Amanda Roberts isn't old enough to have first-hand memories of what life was like before the Snow Ravens came to the Outworlds.

What she has instead, are the recorded memories of what the nation was before the Amaris Crisis.

Looking out the window of a passenger ship on the way to meet a scheduled flight to her home-world, she's able to match what she's seeing in the present, to what once was…and they're not quite there yet, but it's coming.

"Better that this remains somewhat obscure, Amanda."  Desmond whispered.  She imagined him being a dapper man, in a tuxedo, with conventionally handsome features and a lilting, hypnotic accent…except when she imagined him with long, unkempt hair and a tricorne hat.  I know. she thought back.  Last time we had this much prosperity the whole universe went insane.

Her imaginary friend chuckled, "Yes, it did.  You're getting better at hiding it when you speak back to me."

Practice. You stopped answering when I got too loud.

She imagined him nodding along, "That, I did.  You're getting more comfortable, and more dominant.  This is optimal, I don't have to directly run things if you can handle yourself on your own."

The woman the files told her was her mother was coming back from the lavatory.  is it really better?

"I was developed to PARTNER with a trained operative, they installed me in an untrained girl, for my function to be optimal, it's better that you develop the trained skills, and you have been, which lets me do MY job of watching your back.  So yes, it's optimal. Also interesting, I do not think I was supposed to develop this much self-awareness."

Huh.  Erin's influence maybe?

"No, I do not think so.  I think it might have to do with your biology interacting with the synthetic nerve tissue I was programmed on to.  Erin suspects that's the case anyway-I may be taking up some of YOUR real-estate in addition to the triple core."

She snorted. thinking about taking over already?

"Not especially.  I'm more recognizing that I provide you with tools and options, but you set the priorities and make the decisions…which is how it ought to work."

okay, she's almost back to our seats, start reviewing mission parameters we were given for November's cruise for me, display in overlay mode to my vision, upper left corner, I'm going to have to make conversation.

"Are you ready, Amanda?" Natalie Roberts, age 47, asked.

"I don't know." she answered, while chart plots and historical data from the archive cache displayed on the back of the seat, letting her seem to be meeting her mother's eyes with her 'good' eye while the artificial sat, looking, well…like a glass eye.  "Should I wear the eye-patch? I know the prosthetic looks…uncanny at close range?"

"Er…yes, please." Her mother said.

It was a good excuse, the alternate modes would work through the medical gauze, and let her work without as many distractions.  "Files say I have brothers." she added.  "What was my relationship with them like?  Do you know what they might be expecting?"

[Daryk]

I'd have fixed the title case in the heading if Google was cooperative, but they're not...  :-\

I'll try to be more attentive to the drafts going forward, and PM you any edits.  :)

[georgiaboy]

Reconnecting with family is hard, I know. Coming home after being gone 30 years, you can not reconnect to the vast majority of your old friends, and unless you are in daily contact with immediate family, you will not be able to connect with the members who are not in daily contact.
It is hard, and it hurts, you come home and then loose your immediate family, then there is no link. In Amanda's case, is that she lost the connection at age ~12-13. with no base memories for a link, itwill be almost impossible to reconnect to the family.
Patiance and understanding on both sides will have to be the rule-of-the-day, if both sides are not tring, then it will not work.

[DOC_Agren]

and gee there will be "mad dog" killers hunting her too

[Daryk]

Amanda can handle those... it's the real hit team that Desmond will have to warn her about...  8)