Ngoverse v. 4.0- "The Politics of Compromise"

[Cannonshop]

HPG message dated August 30, 3067...

"I'm sorry, your Highness, but the Duchess can not travel in her present condition, perhaps when she recovers." 


"Her...present condition?" Peter Steiner-Davion asked. "What, is she ill?"

"Oh yes, very ill." Kelli told him, "She may be able to make a full recovery-in roughly nine months.  The interaction of her Cholmann's syndrome and transit disorder simply wouldn't be good for the baby."

"So she's pregnant."

"Very, we finished the implantation procedure two days ago." Kelli stated, "She has a backup pair ready to go into an Iron Womb, and a designated contract-surrogate, if there are complications."

"Well...it's a better excuse than I've heard in a long time.  My congratulations to the expecting mother." he said.

"Thank you on her behalf, your Highness, and I'll be sure to pass your well-wishes along to them both." Kelli's tone was receptionist-sweet.

Triad, Tharkad...

Peter closed out the call.  "Well, she's not coming." he said, turning to Marie, "She's pregnant."

"I can hear the sighs of relief,and the cries of disbelief, from the Estates General now." she commented, "At least we know she won't be here to create friction at the conference."

"She wouldn't have been, in any case." Peter observed.


Arluna, 30 August, 3067...

Debra stepped out her front door, and sat on a bench, overlooking her farm.  THis was where she went, when she needed a break from governing-home.

Unfortunately, work has a way of following one home.  In this case, in the form of Colonel Jonas Falone, with a staff car.

She rubbed her eyes as the Elemental walked up the drive.

"What is et?" she muttered.

He extended his hand, in it was a message off-print from the HPG station.  "You left your comms-unit in your office, Milady Baroness." he told her, "So, someone needed to deliver this-with Major Al-Carrera busy on a family leave, and Captain Nguyen overseeing dock-work on the East Coast, I took the opportunity to deliver it myself...the car, is waiting to take you to the spaceport.  This is a matter of..some importance, I imagine."

She took the message from his hand.

TO: Baroness(Designate) MacAulliffe, Debra Jane,
FROM: The Office of His Highness Peter Arden Steiner-Davion, Archon of the Lyran Alliance.

RE: Confirmation Hearing Scheduled for October 23, 3067.

Dear Miss MacAulliffe,

As a recently nominated and seconded noble candidate, you are required to submit to an in-person audience with the Archon of the Lyran Alliance, for the purposes of swearing your Fealty per the Articles of Incorporation.  This hearing will be held at 3 PM, October 23, 3067 at the Royal Palace in the Triad City, on Tharkad.
Appropriate rooms will be provided on your request.  It is advisiable that you appear promptly at the date and time specified.  You are invited to bring up to 6 staff along, including 4 security staff. 

Because your world is in the Arluna Quarantine sector, your pre-exit screening will take place at the Lyran Commonwealth space-medical facility at New Capetown.  It is advised that you leave 2 weeks early so as to be able to arrive on time, given the duration and time required for quarantine screenings.

-G. Phillip DeNagle
Office of the Archon, Personnel bureau.

Debra began swearing as she rushed into the house, and began filling an old suitcase with clothing.

She paused, and returned for a moment.  "Comm unit!" she demanded, and Jonas handed it to her.

"saved contacts...there we go..." she let it dial the connection, and waited.  "Captain Nguyen, please." she said into the mouthpiece.

Pol's voice answered, "Jonas?"

"Guess agin." Debra said, "Pack a bag, you, me'n Carlos is goin' for a ride-to Tharkad. git yore ass to th' port bah.." she looked at Jonas, with a questioning look, he said, "Midnight"

"Midnight, mah tahm, gives you four hours-take a faghter if'n y'all have to.  Don' be late."

she dialed another number from memory.

"Luis? yeah, it's Deb...listen, Ah need y'all to serve as regent for a few weeks-ah gotta git to Tharkad..yah, et's tahm fo' thet...apparen'ly they think et's safe fo' me to come t' them..uh-huh, an' ah wanna take Carlos...oh...well...Kin he at leas' meet me at th' port a'fore I go?"

she waited while her Chief Justice spoke to someone out of range...

"Yes? a'right...no, no prob'm..ah'll see ya'll both at th' port then, and tell Mirandella Ah'm lookin' for'ard t'meetin' her twins when we git back."

she hung it up.  Jonas snapped his fingers and a corporal took her half-stuffed suitcase back to the wardrobe.  "Lady Baroness, far be it from me to make suggestions on fashion, but I suspect that Tharkad doesn't need to see your house-cleaning clothes, a cheerleader skirt, or a blouse that did not fit you before I arrived on your world.  Corporal Senna will see to packing your necessities, you must employ your time wisely-you have a lot of work to do before you leave, including preparations for your absence beyond saddling a seventy-year-old man with your duties while you are gone."

Debra forced herself to relax.  "Yeah, you're right, Jonas...work first...y'all could prob'ly do mah job..."

"No." he said, "I would end up killing the entire Governing Council if you left me in charge-out of frustration with their bickering." he said un-ironically, "But you do need to assure that the agendas are laid out, and your intentions are clear before you depart in three and a half hours....I have taken the initiative in arranging a proper personal assistant for your trip."

"thet's raht, Lussa cain't come..." Debra's tone was sad.

[Giovanni Blasini]

HPG message dated August 30, 3065...

3067?

[Cannonshop]

3067?

BLERG!! Duhr-hrr-hrr...  good catch.

[Shadow_Wraith]

 O0

[worktroll]

One ping ...

[Cannonshop]

Coast Guard Cutter LCGC Brightsville, Type-51(improved) Sampan Class Gunboat, Arluna system...

Lt. Senior Grade Bianh vu Dao watched as the Type VII shuttle slid up and executed a lamprey-dock with the port airlock.  The pilot was good-for dirtyfeet, at least, well, I guess it's time to go inside... she hand-over-handed the mooring lines and entered through the dorsal lock.  the layout of the ship let her have time to secure her EVA pack, and slide out of the hardshell armor before heading for the Port lock to meet her passengers.

"Permission to come aboard, ma'am?" Dame MacAulliffe asked meekly.

"Permission granted, welcome aboard, Dame MacAulliffe." Bianh told her.

The next person through was a familiar face.

"Pol Nguyen! You're getting fat." she said as a greeting.

"I swear it's all muscle, Bianh...nice ship.  I didn't think any of these were ready yet."

"It's amazing what official funding and support can do." Bianh told him, "She's a type 51 class with a slight chassis stretch and LF batteries, we reduced the missile count for some rapid-fire point defense weapons, but she's still more powerful than most of the assault droppers and converted cargo-hogs we've had to use for quarantine enforcement..."

"Showing off to the Heinies?" He asked, "This has got to be the maiden flight..."

"shakedown cruise, and yes, Admiral Li thought we should show off a little for our Lyran colleagues...are you still spitting those terms? I hope not in public!"

Pol rolled his eyes, "Old habits." he said, as he helped Debra catch the personnel rope and get oriented in null-gee.

"We've got quarters for your party, Baroness, would you like a tour of the Command and Control center?" Bianh asked.

"Yes, please." Debra said, "Ah din' realize how big these ships are-or how small they are inside, vaya..."

"Most of the external is equipment and armor that doesn't need pressurization, some storage that does, and fuel tankage." Bianh explained, taking hte lead as a Chief showed Nguyen and the rest of the Baroness' entourage to temporary quarters.

"In space ya gotta carry ever'thin' with you." Debra said, "Ah read it, ah jes din'...wow."

"We're not that big, Milady." Bianh told her, "At New Capetown, they've got a Fox class based, and the fox is four point six times our mass, and probably our volume of pressure cubed."

"ah am still impressed." Debra said in open wonder.

"I'm sure, then, that Kaptain Collins will enjoy wowing you even more when you transfer to the LAS Arluna for your New-Capetown-to-Tharkad leg." Bianh told her, "For us, it's going to be the first flight outside the quarantine zone, in addition to the first flight for this ship period."

the hatch in front of her opened, and Bianh led Debra onto the command deck.  "Ops, is that shuttle clear?" she asked.

"Shuttle is cleared and RTB to the planet, Captain." a young man with wild tatoos on the sides of his shaven head announced.

"Okay, Baroness..." Bianh offered the young woman a padded couch with restraints, "have a seat, Nav, do you have a jump solution plotted and ready?"

"Solution plotted, Captain."  the Navigator was probably twice Debra's age, with a wild hairstyle shaved into her dense, curly black hair.

Bianh picked up an intercom, "All personnel, secure to stations for jump in ten seconds." she turned and 'did up' the girl's straps before anchoring her feet behind the Command chair.

"We're at solution." the nav officer announced.

"Jump."

discontinuity

Debra stood in a canyon of fire, around her people were screaming, running randomly, as more fire poured from the sky.  "Make for the drop port!"  Pol was saying, she felt frozen.

Arms wrapped around her and lifted her, and she was being carried off.  "RUN dammit!!" Pol shouted, then turned as a wall rumbled and fell, covering him in opaque dust and bright orange flame...

Reality reasserted itself.

"Nav, Position?"

"Inarcs Nadir point, local time zero seven three zero, October first, 3067, confirmed by beacon signal."

"Operations, is the battery hot?" Bianh asked.

"Battery is hot, full charge, and we've got pumps on standby for the backups if it fails, Captain."

"Core Temp?"

"Two degrees off Optimal, and the cooling units are compensating."

"Let me know when we're at full cap again." Bianh told him, then she leaned over to face the Baroness, "See, a jump core like this one? every time you use it, it has a temperature spike.  On a standard core vessel, you don't get the same variation-something about how the fields interact, but on these types, it's a few minutes before you can fastcharge off of an LF battery. Operationally it's not much different from the time you spend on the bigger ships plotting a double-jump, but we can't even jump blind without waiting first for the core temp to stabilize."

"Um Captain...do people see things durin' jump? is thet normal?" Debra asked.

Bianh leaned down conspiratorially, "yes." she said, "But don't talk about it-there's a mental disorder called Transit Disorientation Syndrome, and it's a disorder because the Dirtyfeet don't understand what they're experiencing.  lots of people have visions when they go into a jump, but only fools actually talk about it much outside certain circles."

"Um, ain' Ah a 'Dirtyfeet'?" Debra asked.

"You're smart, kid...um, Milady, and you asked instead of trying to deny it happened or lay the blame on someone." Bianh told her, "Don't worry-not all the visions are true, or come true, or were true. They're like the dreams of the universe is all-and you'll feel better after a jump if you don't try to fight it."

"Okay."

Bianh turned to the Operations officer, "Core temp?"

"Core is at nominal and fully charged."

"Nav, Plot?"

"Plot is laid in, Ma'am."

"Jump." she said.

Discontinuity

Debra was in a seat like this one..."Rim Worlds Pinto is trying to flee, Admiral."

Her mouth, she could feel, but the voice was wrong.  "Engage them with forward batteries and signal the group.  CAG, launch all fighters, weapons, fire a spread across the port angle of their current course, bearings only.  McKiven isn't getting away this time."

"Firing..."

"INBOUND missiles-count a broad spread from two O'clock!!"

"Time to impact?"

"Thirty seconds, we-"

The ship shuddered and the deck filled with smoke.

"What the hell-Nukes?" someone was coughing...

Reality reassembled, and Debbie reflexively coughed and rubbed her nose with her sleeve.

"alright, we've got a week before we can jump again..." Bianh announced, "Nav, Report?"

"System P3X2743, Double white system, we're at the Apex point.  Recharge should be ninety six hours."

Bianh smiled at the Baroness.

"Is that good?" Debra asked meekly.

"Better than good, we'll hit New Capetown Early." she said, "Almost twenty hours ahead of schedule...Ops, Deploy the sails, and secure the ship from jump condition, Air group, I want escort craft deployed while we're here, this is a good recharge point and it's on everyone's maps, so I suspect if there are problem types lurking, they just saw us arrive. Let's look big for any pirates that are taking in the sun."

"Aye Captain!"

Bianh helped Debra unstrap.  "Before the quarantine, Longanecker had a processing station here for Germanium ore shipments from the Kowloon belt...with the quarantine, they shut it down, but we can bring it up and running if you want to stretch your legs in genuine spin-generated artificial gravity."

"That...maht be nice to see." Debra said.

"Helm, bring us around to the Longanecker station, let's see if anyone's home..."

[Trace Coburn]

  Hmmmmm.  That second jump-vision: past, future, or alternate timeline, I wonder?  IIRC, the FGC game this draws from had some wacky developments, and it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear there were firefights between Rim Worlds ships and the Lyrans/’Loonies....

[Sharpnel]

One ping ...

Vasili, one ping only

[Redshirt]

  Hmmmmm.  That second jump-vision: past, future, or alternate timeline, I wonder?  IIRC, the FGC game this draws from had some wacky developments, and it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear there were firefights between Rim Worlds ships and the Lyrans/’Loonies....

Not sure if the second vision was something in the past, but I would not be surprised if Deb's vision during the first jump was a portent of the Arlunan delegation being on Tharkad when the WoB [crap] hits the proverbial fan...

[Cannonshop]

Abandoned mineral processing station...

They'd put a lot of expense and money into a station that just got left behind.   Or at least, to Debra, it seemed that way.  There was an enormous "Sail" extending from the end of the central 'rolling pin' body of the structure, with a pair of wagon-wheel shapes on the sunward end that, to her, were huge.

Midway up, was a structure the size of an office building.  This was the structure the shuttle she was riding from the Brightsville was approaching.

"Who built et?"  she asked.

"well, it was owned by Longanecker..." Warrant Chu, the boat's Coxswain, answered.

"But who built et?" Debra said, "Ain' no habit'ble plennets, raht? means ever'thin' had t'be shepped en."

"You know, that's a good question."  Chu replied, "I don't know the answer..."


Nadir Point, P3X2743...

"Confirmed Lyran ID, she's a military vessel."  Adept IX Julio Vargas announced, "They're in a passive recharge mode, no encrypted comms."

"Which one?" his supervisor, Demiprecentor Polden, asked.

"um...ID says LCGS Brightsville-one of the boats Kowloon built, Sampan Mk 51 variant...hell of a long way from home."

"Maintain emissions discipline, the flux from the star should cover the flotilla."

"They have a boat out heading for the station." Vargas noted.

"Well...naturally they would. It's a long trip from Kowloon out here, and those boats have short legs." Polden noted, "They'll probably stick to the hab ring areas and maybe the powerplant and life support..."

"What if they find the cached materials?" Vargas asked.

"Let me ask you something-would it be worth it to the order, to trigger an incident with the Lyrans right before we stand for confirmation as part of the Star League?"

"No sir."

"If they find the caches, they'll chalk it up to good luck in finding a smuggling point, and turn the materials over to collect a nice bit of prize money.  It's not even a major concern, since the base will, with our blessed order's help, be reactivated anyway as a forward logistics point in driving the Clans back out to the hole Kerensky chose to hide in..." he turned from the display, "let me know when the coastal boat's left, then we can find out how much we'll have to take back..." he looked over his shoulder, "Priorities Mister Vargas, That ship is likely carrying the new Noble from Arluna, to the transfer point over New Capetown, from there, to Tharkad.  'lost in space' means search parties, and might reveal the wrong sort of impression."

"Yes sir."

[Nikas_Zekeval]

Ah, there are the WOBbies.

Looks like they are setting up for a 'surprise' after their full induction, showing their martial chops by kicking off an Anti-Falcon "Operation Bulldog".  Probably skip over the 'contained' Falcons in the plague zone, semi-integrated and like I mentioned else where, tens or maybe a hundred thousand to Billions and Billions of Lyrans.  Give it a few generations and they'll be Lyrans, with a strange martial religion is probably the majority view.

OTOH, well that depends on a more focused mission, and we are probably going to get the Mother of all Nerd Rages as Cannonshop puts it.

[croaker]

Ah, there are the WOBbies.

Looks like they are setting up for a 'surprise' after their full induction, showing their martial chops by kicking off an Anti-Falcon "Operation Bulldog".

Yep, looks like it. One has to wonder what might have happened if they hadn't decided to be so secretive about their plans.

like I mentioned else where, tens or maybe a hundred thousand to Billions and Billions of Lyrans.  Give it a few generations and they'll be Lyrans, with a strange martial religion is probably the majority view.

Yeah, I get the feeling this is Liz's view on it too.

[Cannonshop]

Longanecker facility P3X2743, 72 hours from jump...

Keeping the dirtyfeet out of dangerous areas was a full-time job-doing it while maintaining the required veneer of civility was even worse.  Pel Chu 83 wasn't near the end of his rope-the girl's frank wonder and excitement was as contagious as the disease that scarred her face with alternating veins of red and black had been.

"...storage? mebbe they lef som'thin'!" she said, "Mebbe the's clues who built et!"

Chu checked the valve press on the compartment in question, as he simply shook his head.  The bay's externals looked good, and if the Dirtyfoot noble wanted to look at old mineral transfer containers, it was better than her trying to muck with the station's controls...

the door opened, and she bounded inside under 1/4 gee.

He followed, because she could hurt herself if not supervised.  Part of him always wondered how planet-bound could be so clumsy...

She was stopped in the middle of the chamber, just ahead of him, staring up.

"Thet....them ain't mineral containers, Mistah Chu." Debra said.

"Nonsen-oh, my."

Ordinance cases lined the walls.

"Thet's ordinance, an' ah rec'nize lots of et." Debra added.

she walked to the left.  "Arrow IV, Mk XX1 FASCAM." she said, "Field artillery Scatterable Minefield, looks lahk one ton ready pallets...they's about twelve hunnert tons worth in this rank of cases."

She wasn't bouncing anymore.  Instead, she was walking along the ranks of containers, naming them off.

"Ordinance, Autocannon, One oh five mil'metah, Clustah and solid linked belts.  Fits th' Lubalin Mahk T'n..."  she pointed, "Volume an' stackin' says about six thousan' tons worth-'bout what an Arceetee uses fo' trainin' in a yeah, or carries wi' them on a multiplanet campaign."

"How would you know that?" Chu asked.

"Study material." Debra said, "Nagelring Correspondence course Nine-seven-nine-one-three, wuth 87 points toward a bach'luhs in Logistics...LRM ammo...huh, Freeworlds markings, specialist stuff...'not for export'."

She paused and looked at the floor, and the ceilings.  "Aisle's wahd 'nough fo' a Loadermech." she added, turning, "Ah think somon's bin usin' this fo' an ordinance depot since yo' minahs moved on."

"I'm going to have to call this in." Chu told her.

"Fahn bah me-th' otha storage chamahs, theys usin th' same thing y'all did to open this'n?" she asked.

"um..." he parsed for a moment, mentally decoding her words, "Yes."

She wasn't bounding anymore, and her bloodshot eyes were grim and serious.  "Ah cogitate to look 'roun." she told him, "Y'all git some more down heah, an' some Marines to check an' secure th' station."  It was a Command, and before he realized it, he was making the calls as she walked out.

Debra walked out of the sudden-ordinance depot, and crossed the axis corridor to the opposing doorway.


The panel shifted green, and she opened the internal lock.

the missiles were bigger than the shuttle that brought her-the same size,  in fact, as the dissected missile at Brightsville that brought the Plague to Arluna.

she immediately began examining color codes and operator-level warning text on the racked White Shark class missiles.

The SLDF Recognition manual she'd memorized after the Brightsville discovery really helped here.

"Whaht Shahk annie sheppin' missiles..." there were a lot of them. 

The third chamber contained smallarms-based on the visible volume, several thousand identically cased Mauser 960 rifles, with ammunition cases packed with the mini-grenades for the underbarrel launchers.

"Too much." Debra whispered.

this ain' no smuggler point, nor no salvager's cache...this is enough hardware to conduct a planetary invasion-like an invasion kit, just add 'mechs and tanks!

The last chamber, contained fighters...sort of.  Fuselages, with engines, but the wings and other proturbances were dismounted for storage and shipping, everything in large metallic frames for stacking and transport, dimensioned to use the cargo-lock's tractor belts.

it was a turn-key navy base, the only parts missing, were the shipyard and defensive squadrons.

Debra returned to Chu, who was making his way to the station's command center.

Her brain was working fast, calculating..."base six." she said.

'What?"

"Th' rahfles in chambah fo-oh-one, math wuhks out t'base six organization...same fo th' fightahs in their pre-assembly shipping cradles."

"Well, maybe comstar rented the site." He said in a doubting tone.

"Ef they did, where's th' garrison?" Debra asked, "Y'all know they'd be heah...they's billions of C-bills 'n military goods, th' kind mos' don' wanna lose treck of, heah."

"Could be arms dealers, or smugglers..." he said doubtfully.

"really?" Debra gave him a cold look with the scoff.  "Y'all ain' stupid Mistah Chu-they's a hella lot a' weapons an' ord'nance heah, some of et is too new t'be salvage, an' all of et is good quality stuff-modern military grade A an' higher. Ef et's a Dealah, well, we's talkin' a dealah biggr'n DefHes jes to afford th' inventory-a Guv'mint in othah wuhds."

"and not ours." He shot back, "Except...maybe it's for the Alliance?"

"Where's the Garrison?" Debra enunciated very clearly.  "There are better than thirty-six-thousand Mauser 960's down there, Three hundered and sixty Airframes in storage, there are ranks of Capital grade missiles-white shark class, the kind you need the booster from to mount a Peacemaker warhead. everything is in containerized state for easy shipment, the big missiles are even racked in six-round rotary style..."

"Like the ready magazines on an AR-10 launcher?" he asked.

Debra stopped, pulled out her PADD, and a stylus, and drew it.  enunciating carefully again, for emphasis, "Like This?"

"Yeah, like that...jesus ******."

"someone's logistics base." Debra said, "Left out here to hide it in obscurity-know anyone like that?"

"Not personally." he said, "if they're here and laying doggo, then they'll either clear it out when we leave, or blow it up."

Debra nodded, "Assumin' they ain' fixin' t' blow us up...fo' findin' et."

He frowned, "My Coast Guard training suggests being on this station is distinctly a hazard to your health, Milady Baroness."

Debra nodded slowly, "Ah cogitate ah seed 'nough of the saghts-an' thet et's tahm t'let th' Pro-fessionals deal with et."

[Cannonshop]

LCGS Brightsville, 48 hours into recharge...

Bianh looked at the recordings taken from the depot, and then, she said, "We can't hold it...and I think the Baroness is right-whoever put this stuff here intends to make use of it, and they're not the Lyran Alliance."

"But we have to report it, at least." her XO, ensign Marissa Tenstrum (Luhon Burrow, Oort cloud), insisted, "There's stores there to replenish a lot of ships..."

"Stores we can't move, or control." Bianh noted, "Stores with an owner.  We don't have an HPG or a Black box, we can't report without leaving the system, and we can't count on it being here when LCN ships come to check it out...or worse, to get ambushed by whoever put it here, when they come to check it out."

"You think they're hostiles then?" Ens. Tenstrum asked.

"I think they'd have to be-friendlies wouldn't be doing it covertly." Bianh stated.

"hmmm...maybe blow it in place?" Tenstrum frowned, "Blow in place maybe?"

"It's a lot of gear, Captain." Debra spoke up, "The Com-I mean, the ALLIANCE could sure use it...hell, the infantry weapons alone stored there-"

"Whoever's stocked it here, will want it back, Deb." Pol Nguyen noted, "You said as much yourself."

"We have a little over two days." Bianh stated, "That's to get the core and the battery recharged. It's another double-jump to New Capetown, shortest route is through a dead system, we'll report in, submit documentary evidence, and let the brass make the call...assuming the owners of this stuff don't show up before we can leave...which means set all stations to general quarters and set watch rotations to combat footing, presume we are soon to be in the presence of hostilities, CAG, shift fighter cap to two-on-one-off, warloads and we'll go with a status of weapons ready."

Star Lord class Far Seeker, Nadir Point, P3X2743...

"They have altered their posture, and shifted to encrypted comms."  Vargas noted, "Fighter deployment has altered as well-they are doubling their CAP."

"Four fighters though-we have that many...wish we had some assault droppers, or even a proper Corvette..." Polden noted, "who decided we should be travelling without defensive units?"

"The person giving you and I orders, of course." Vargas noted, "bring the dropships to the facility, bring the life-systems back on-line, make delivery, and leave, the Warship group will be along any time now, remember?"

"Too well.  The jump-route is too well used, nobody accounted for a short-legged primitive stumbling on this...if only we had more fighters..." Polden sighed, "But we don't, and it was 'too conspicuous' to be seen transiting points with so much as a decent Leopard on the collar!"

"We have twenty four hours left to charge the core, Sir, so long as they are more worried about phantom enemies appearing, than about looking for us, we remain safe."

[Euphonium]

This is fun - thank you!

[mikecj]

Nicely written to show WoBs planning for their desired campaign; instead of what Sunny & the S-D brats triggered.

[Cannonshop]

LCGS Brightsville, 24 hours remaining...

"so, Milady, ah, why're you digging up the manuals?" Ops Officer Levine 277 (Hardrock minerals Burrow 4, Boojum Belt) asked.

"Um?" Debra looked up from her reading, "Ahm bored." she said, "only thing heah Ah ain' read yet."

"Serious reader, huh? if you want something entertaining..." he (she? Debra still wasn't sure) reached past her, and toggled the display to the homepage, then clicked a file icon.  "There's writing contests in the outer belts, this is last year's winners...the Captain of the boat, she won it."

"Ah din' know thet!" Debra told the officer..."um ain' meanin' to pry or nuthin'...but are you a guy, or a girl??" she asked.

Levine chuckled, "Birth defect-correctable. I've been transitioning for four years-you should see me in a dress, I'm stunning."

Debra stared for a moment, stunned, then said, "Y'all din' ansah Mah Question."

"And you, young noble that you are, don't need the answer." Levine 277 told her, "Not until you're older, have a bit more experience in the wider world, and have shed your preconceptions."

"is..is tha' a fancy way o' tellin' me to shut up, or t' figger it out?" Debra wouldn't let go of the subject.

"alright, level with you...it's none of your business as long as I do my job-but, to further your education...I'm a girl." Levine told her, "Though some of the men I've run into in ports would disagree.  Not everyone is as pretty as you are."

Debra was embarrassed and ashamed. "Ah'm sorrah ef ah said somethin' cruel." she said.

"Nonsense, the girls I go for like that I'm butch...the guys? not so much." Levine told her, "And I do like guys on the side, I'm not Aunt Lane...oh relax, dear, you're too young for me by a quite a lot-I prefer Older, Divorced women, who don't have sexy latin boyfriends down in the guest quarters."

this set Debra's ears burning. She turned to focus on the monitor.

Deb focused on the writing, and soon found she needed a dictionary.  after another hour, she opened an additional window, and brought up calculus textbooks, referencing back-and-forth.  This let her block out the activity around her.

Bianh vu Dao caught Levine 277 in the short corridor off the bridge, "You're not supposed to mess with the mundanes, isn't that right?" Bianh asked coldly.

"relax, she's fine-I didn't touch her." Levine told her C.O., "I admit, I did point her curious nose at your annual contest entry from last year."

"I wrote that one to prove the judges were only interested in shit." Bianh said in frustration, "it's possibly the worst story I ever wrote!"

"well, it did win the contest...and look-she's interested enough to be researching it...you know, she could be one of us...Chu said she accurately calculated the contents of those warehouses by eye, and he's only had to show her once how to do anything."

"She has responsibilities dirtside." Bianh stated, "certainly too many to go running of into the Belts."

"Pity...so few of them have any potential at all outside a gravity well, it's a shame she's got to live her life planetbound."

Bianh made a face, "don't get too misty, Levine, no repeats of the Winter mission-we're not in a position to adopt every dirtyfoot who's got a knack into the belts."

Levine raised her hands, "I'll be a good opsdog boss, promise, nobody's following Auntie Levine out to the belt this trip."

"Be sure to remember that." Bianh said in a scolding tone, "It isn't too terribly long ago-what, three centuries? that Belters were rumoured to kidnap children, it's taken generations to erase that."

"Our ancestors were." Levine reminded her, "though 'kidnapping' and 'rescuing from starvation' are a few thousand lines of code apart."

Bianh anchored her toes in the wall carpet, and pressed a forearm across the Ops specialist's throat, "And we're not doing that anymore...understand? not on my boat-no new recruits."

"Understood, ma'am." Levine submitted, Bianh let her go.  "Take your offshift, four hours, then back to Ops."

"Aye aye Captain." Levine said, and bounced to the crew quarters as Bianh floated into the CiC.

she positioned herself above the baroness, strapped into a deck-seat.  "Whatcha readin?" Bianh asked.

Debra glanced up, "goodstuff." she said, mimicking the clipping accent of Rockjack dialect.  "I heard."

"I suspected you might..."

"The story here, it's good." Debra continued, carefully enunciating, "your spanish portions are a little off, and I don't think a lord of Buena would give up that much-not with so much he'd need to stay for, and the ground combat-doesn't work that way."

Bianh sighed, "I tried to win the Community creative writing contest for ten years." she said, "Last year-the story you're reading? I said 'shuck it' and wrote the most trite, repetitive crap I could come up with, with cheesy and unrealistic action, sweaty, near porn romance scenes, and bad science."

"It works." Debra said, "It's entertainin', some of th' words are stuff ah had to look up, an' th' math's stuff ah ain' learned yet...but it's good for gettin the mahnd off'n what's troubling."

"so...the structure?"

Deb shrugged, "Ah see lots thet mah grammah teachahs would'a had a brain rupture over-but ah think what won it, was thet it's Entertainment-entertainment should...not..be..." she bit her lip, thinking hard, "Serious." she finally said, "Like..keepin' a wall between what's real, an' what's for fun. this is stuff to read for fun.  The Manuals an' the textbooks-they're for serious."

"and what about great literature?" Bianh asked, "Was Shakespeare writing for serious, or for fun?"

Debra brightened, "Fun." she said, "Everyone in his plays is way over-top, long monologues, asides to the audience-he war writin' for fun, et's folks take it as serious that ruin it."

Bianh actually found herself chuckling, "You're right." she told the young Lady, "but how did you work that out? did someone tell you-"

"Readin'." Debra said, "read'in it without seein' it, see? pitchers in your mind, listenin' to how the voices sound lahk they should be soundin'."

Finagle, she would fit right IN as a Rockjack...  "Debra...before your father got arrested..." Bianh began, "Were you...a little isolated?"

Debra shrugged, "yeah. who ain't? Ah was the 'hillgirl' at mah school-ever'one elsewise was lowlanders an' Ah was still goin' t'school when th' other kids in the hills was goin' t' th' church, or lookin' for work-mah brothers was same as me, but they had an advantage-they could play soccer better'n anyone in the district."

"How did you do...while you were actually attending school?" Bianh asked.

"Not quite Honor-roll." Deb said, "They marked me dawn fo' mah conduc' an' Presentation, an' for mah not-participatin' in aftah school activities."

"what were you doing instead?" Bianh asked.

"woods walkin', babysittin' neighbour kids, sometimes he'p the neighbours with chores for money to buy stuff..."

"what kind of stuff?"

"Stuff." Debra shrugged, "Crafting stuff, stuff to make stuff-I made my firs' telescope when Ah was nine, an' mah firs' microscope at eleven, then Ah got int'rested in electronics, so ah'd het th' used stores for old reddios, holotainment gear...aftah daddy got arrested, Ah din't do so much of thet, an' school got lots harder to deal wit, so ah hid in th' libr'ry a lot."

It was like a checklist in Bianh's head-every trait that, in the old days, would make a good first generation Rockjack.

a status indicator blinked, and Bianh watched the girl's hand slide over, switching from the reading to the sensor input as reflexively as anyone trained in Operations could do.  "outgoin' jump." Debra said, parsing the data at a glance.

"How did you know that?" Bianh asked.

Debra paused, then slowly said, "I read the manual...and I watched Levine a few times...it ai-isn't, hard."

Bianh smiled slowly, she already knew the answer when she asked, "How big?"

"Star lord or monolith class, if the manual's right." Debra said.

"how many times did you study the manuals?" Bianh asked.

"Ah read it this mornin'.  did ah git it wrong?" the girl was mooding to flustered again.

"no." Bianh told her, "You got it right, if the gain on the instruments is correct, and corrected for the system, light speed delay...fifteen minutes ago, a shucking Star Lord or similar sized ship, jumped out of the system.  Since we didn't detect a jump in..."

"They been here th' whole tahm." Debra finished for her. 

"and we missed it." Bianh told her.

Deb seemed to fold into her self, "ah'm sorry..."

Bianh reached over and touched her scalp, "you have nothing to be sorry about-I said we missed it, you didn't."

[mikecj]

Poor tradecraft on the WoB's part.

Did you post the specs on a ,Sampan.

[Cannonshop]

LCGS Brightsville, 0 hours remaining on the clock...

The Captain let Debra sit in the 'jumpseat' again, as they prepared to depart.  "all smallcraft secured, crew is at stations for hyperspace jump." Levine 277 announced.
"Nav, is our timing and course plot finished?" Bianh asked.

"Timing and course plot are go. we are ready to initiate jump by your command, Captain."

"Operations, core charge?"

"charge and temperature are at optimum levels, Captain."

"now hear this, jump in five...four...three... two..."

Discontinuity...

"which one is yours?"  The air stank with charred flesh, the bodies were piled in dumptruck loads into an open pit, a pit filled with fire.

Debra studied them, looking for something familiar, some indication of her father..."Ah don't know..."

"Then you go in." and rough hands shoved her into the burn-pit...

Fire lanced and hot air scorched her lungs as she sceamed on the way down, the skin on her arms bubbled and broke as the flesh cooked away...


Reality reasserted itself.

"Beacon time?" she heard the Captain ask.

"Zero three three zero, Uniform,  October 5, Thirty Sixty Seven....star charts line up, we're at the transition point."

"Ops, Temperature?"

"core is five degrees above optimum and cooling at one degree per minute, we should be ready to use the second stored charge in four minutes."

Debra rubbed her arms, as if trying to make sure she wasn't burned.  "another bad one?" Bianh asked her quietly.

Debra nodded, unconsciously checking herself for the burning she'd felt.

"only one more, and we'll be at New Capetown."  Bianh told her, "We have a few, if you want to talk."

Debra looked up at her, "They burned my father's body-Ah got there late...couldn't find him." she said, "but in the vision, they threw me in because ah couldn't find him..."

"Remember I said it's like the dreams of the universe? sometimes they're nightmares..."

"a'right..."

"just keep cool, Deb, we're on the last leg of it for this ship, and it's only a couple long-jumps to Tharkad, okay?"

Debra smiled "okay."

Bianh returned to her station, "Ops, core temp?"

"Core temp is optimal, charge is transferred, we're ready if Nav is."

"Navigation?"

"Solution plotted, Nav is green."


"Jump."

Discontinuity...

"ebba! Ebba!! there's travellers!"  she was a little girl-not the safest thing to be in the Great City's back alleys.

Still, Travellers meant new chances-maybe a chance to escape, or to beg for food.

So Ebba slipped out of a disused vent grating and followed Ebba and his 'daughters' to the seaside.

"...fresh, young girls, good for scrubbing, healthy and strong!"  A slaver from Apollo was selling almond-eyed girls in the market, another was hawking boys.  The Pimps were out, she knew to steer clear of them, lest she be taken.  Debra caught a look at herself in a reflective surface.  Dark skin, curly hair, broad nosed.

"...exotics! these girls will satisfy your every need or want! Certified by the Republic's inspectors to be disease free and even virginal..." the slave trader was saying as the travellers came into view.

They wore a look like she'd never seen-one piece clothes, belts with devices secured by lanyards.  Some of them had dark skin, like hers.

She'd been distracted, and Fang's hand descended on her shoulder.  "caught you, Twinkle."  Fang wasn't exactly reputable-he sold stolen things, sometimes he bought them, but mostly he dealt in 'evening pleasures'-she'd been avoiding him for weeks in the streets of Eagle's nest.

she screeched and struggled, this drew the attention of the ebon man among the Travellers, who strode over.  "excuse me." the man said in a clipped accent.

"Whatchu want?" Fang asked, pinning her with one massive, sweaty arm.

"How much for the girl?" the ebon man asked.

"Six hundred Star League dollars and the redhead's yours." Fang told him.

"No, this one." the Ebon man asked.

"she's not broke in yet..."

The Ebon man's hand lashed out, catching Fang by the neck, and squeezing-she heard the crunch, felt the man stiffen and die.

the Ebon man knelt down, "Listen to me. You're safe. come with me, and I will show you wonders."

"Far from here?" she asked.

"Oh yes, far, far from here." He said to her. then to the other Travellers, "Get our people out of that slaver's hands, and make sure Drago knows we're pulling out an extra, so he can make room."

she clung close to the Ebon man, so much like her..."Is there food where we're going?" she asked.

"Plenty of food...there will be work, but I have a knack for finding people who can learn it." He told her, "and I have a feeling you fit the bill."

"who are you?" she asked.

"David Levine Ten.  You'll like it in the belt."


Reality reasserted, Debra blinked. okay, that was weird...  "Who's David Levine Ten?" she asked outloud.

Levine 277 looked up, "Famous prospector-he didn't prospect rocks, he recruited Rockjacks, used to smuggle people out of the Rim Worlds, back in the 2590's...where did you hear the name?"

"um...not sure." the vision was evaporating.

Nav announced, "New Capetown.  It is an always sunny zero three forty five, October 5, thirty sixty seven, here at the Nadir point for the New Capetown system, outside, on your port viewers, you can see the G2 variable star, burning merrily through interstellar hydrogen, on the Starboard side, is Fleet Base New Capetown, roughly two AU distant from the jump point."

Bianh and the rest of the regular bridge crew shared in the joke-"alright, Ops?"

"traffic is heavy, Captain, we're getting a beacon-signal and I'm transferring the approach corridor to Helm, I guess first stop for anyone planning a surface excursion, is the ever-popular Quarantine intake at Medical..."

"right...Baroness, you need to go down to the shuttle deck and get your environment suit on, they're going to probably want us to spacewalk through the emergency trunk directly in, just in case one of you is contagious."

Debra unstrapped and made for the shuttle deck.

Levine nodded to the Captain, and followed her.

"So..you saw him?" she asked, "in your vision?"

"Yeah." Debra said, "One point nine meters tall, maybe a hundred kilos, skin darker than yours by...a lot." Debra said, "He had curly hair, shaved on the sides and back."

"That's him." the Ops chief nodded, "I have seen pics, at least...where did you see him?"

Debra shrugged, as they reached the cross-corridor down to the shuttle deck, "Dunno, some dirty city, there were guys selling slaves..."

"Past lives are like that." Levine told her, "You never get a full view.  Same for random jump-dreams.  Last time I had one, I was being killed on some distant planet-by the men I led there."

"Ew."

"Yah, no shit...just remember-it's just dreams. Don't turn into one of those freaks that tries to claim to see the future because it ain't set." Levine explained, "and forget I said anything about past lives-there's no evidence of them, it's just my religion, okay?"

Debra nodded, "I'm good with that." she said, emulating the Rockjack's tone and diction.

Levine 277 reached out, and pinched her cheek, "You be good for Collins, okay? he was a good CO when I was under him in the war."

"Will do." Debra entered the shuttle bay, where Carlos, Pol, and her staff were already kitting up for a spacewalk.

[Dave Talley]

One ping ...

two pings
red pings
blue pings

[Cannonshop]

[out of story..]

Poor tradecraft on the WoB's part.

Did you post the specs on a ,Sampan.

I stole some of hte basic concept from one of Liam's_Ghost's posts over on the Aerospace forum-basically I'm treating it as a heavily modified version his Type 51 Gunboat. (eventually, I intend to pester him to do up stats based on the stories, because I don't have the right book to do it up myself.)

Don't be so hard on the Blakies-they're this close to getting what they most desire at this time, and they're confident-well, 'over' confident is probably better to say.

special notes:

Rockjack/Belter naming:

I'm getting like, these images and stuff for how it works, but I know there's a reason for the 'numbers' and it isn't from cloning.  I'm comign to believe it's a matter of generational things, or something like a 'truename' where the numbers have some reflection on things like gender, interests, or roles, but with generation mixed in.  Obviously, the lower the number, the closer you are to a first generation belt settler, but I can't figure out how it's linearly set up-the characters refuse to tell me.

"are Debbie's visions an example of psychic, or psychotic, phenomena?"

I don't know.  There are elements of it, but that's also because the Battletech universe HAS examples of psychic phenomena. (Novacat Visions, Scorpion visions, crazy Precentors who restart naval programmes based on dreams...) But, like the Rockjacks with their name/numbers I have no real understanding of how or why it might work.

"Debbie's getting a lot of attention and cool stuff going on, is she a Mary Sue?"

Blatantly.  She's going to seduce everyone with her rainbow eyes and "like, yeah!!" uber-out-of-character knowledge.  She's also better at everything than everybody else.

Okay, tongue-in-cheek aside..no. at least, not intentionally. Deb is intended to be exceptional-how else could she be who she is set up to be? but we're not going to see her executing matrix-style gun-fu, screwing Archer's brains out or sleeping with Victor for kicks.

She IS intended to be exceptionally intelligent, a fast learner, and fairly charismatic.  (that last bit, I have a hard time doing because I know jack-squat about winning friends and influencing people, the exceptional intelligence I'm phaking as hard as possible for a dimwit such as myself...), and she's a survivor.  The "intelligent" part I'm trying to show by making her very observant, and sensible.  It's the best I can really do.

"So...what IS Levine 277?"

Levine 277 is a person. 

"You know what I mean..."

Levine is a person...okay, female, likes both, a little on the ugly side.  Feel better now?

"Slave markets?"

Per the Canon, Slavery was an economic staple of the Rim Worlds Republic.  since slavery is pretty much useless in a modern, industrial economy, that means certain things...like what someone might buy a slave for...or to do...or to do to.  (No, really, Slavery is an economic millstone.  by the 1850s it was on it's way out even in the Confederate states, because it's only economically viable when your economy is almost entirely pyramid-agrarian with a labor intensive crop that is lucrative enough to pay for the months your slaves aren't doing anything productive...and you can't afford to have, say, slaves running your factory, because the factory with freemen is going to out-compete your ass on costs alone.  Slaves require the owner to feed, medicate, maintain, and guard. they're a total and completely luxury item from about the time that assembly line work started going.  The Nazis even tried it-and look where THEY ended up...)

[mikecj]

They had every reason to be until the Brats took their toys and went home.

[qc mech3]

I would love to read a Nova Cat recollection of a jump vision. Could be the founding of the Spirit Cat faction....

And I agree with you Cannonshop, Deb may be written a born leader and genius, she's not a Mary Sue yet.  O0

[Cannonshop]

Lyran Alliance Naval Station, New Capetown, 6 October, 3067...

"...feel like they must've taken half my blood out."  Pol was saying.

Carlos shrugged, "not that bad." he said, "Not for us.  What is taking them so long with Deb?"

Pol shrugged.  "No telling." The isolation room was faced with ferroglass on three sides, the fourth, was the airlock leading to the outside of the station.  "Briefings maybe? stuff they only tell the Nobles?"

"this is ****** up." Carlos said after a moment, "Hey!!! DUMBASS!! we're not Contagious anymore!!"

"That won't work, chuck, and you know it won't." Pol told him, "Just relax, alright?  We're leaving a Level One quarantine zone, this is normal procedure."

"Isolation? sure, the ****** walls are transparent!" the younger man barked, "Seriously, do the ****** walls have to be see-through too?"

Pol just leaned back on the cot, "Relax, don't let it bother you...no, they don't have to be transparent for a dive chamber, which is basically what we're in...but I see why they did it that way."

Carlos turned to face the only non-see-through wall, which meant he was facing Nguyen. "Why?"

Pol sat up.  "You want the bullshit reason, or the real one?"

"The real one..." Carlos sat on an extruded plastic chair with a crinkle in his paper jumpsuit.

"The real reason, is because this was designed by medical scientists, and we're lab rats." Pol told him, "So far, we're the only people who've gotten a permit to get this far.  since all their data on the Arluna Flu is HPG reports and camera work from inside the Q-zone, means nobody this side has practical experience with anyone who's actually survived infection-you notice none of the girls are in here?"

"Segregated." Carlos said.

"Yes." Pol told him, "we're segregated from the females in the group, since we're actual survivors, we're being treated like potential Typhoid Marys-possible carriers. I expect they ran Huyn Swabs on the crew from the Brightsville and they get to spend a week in a proper chamber, with opaque walls and cameras, savvy that?"

"I savvy..." Carlos admitted.

"NOw, our clothes, our stuff? it's probably all getting swabbed and decon'ed." Pol told him, "Plus a stay in a guinea-pig can, just to make sure it's not carrying protein-sheathed viral hitchhikers, which is why we've been provided with this lovely prison-wear."

"I still don't get why we're in a transparent cage." Carlos said, "Everything else you said checks out when you think about it, but the walls..."

"Psychological screening." Pol told him, "What if one of us was a delta with a measure of self-control? or one that hasn't been set off? stress the patients, see if they nut out or get destructive..."

"So two of us in here for that?" Carlos asked.

"Makes sense, if you started eating my face, they can spot it, and hit the purge button." Pol told him.

"that's ******' sick." Carlos said, "Totally, ****** sick."

Pol just shrugged, "Leave it be, stay calm, it's a week in here, they check the filters, find out we're not putting out little virus spores, they let us out, we go on with the mission, escort our Baroness to Tharkad, she bends the knee, says the words, the Archon says his bit, we go on home-simple, easy, and all about being patient."

"Patient..."

"You ever do any fish-hunting?" Pol asked, "Before the plague, I mean, you know, rod, reel, maybe a baited hook?"

"Yeah..."

"ever had a weekend you just couldn't ****** get a bite?" Pol added.

"Yeah..lots of those." Carlos said, "Dad liked to take us up to Choctree lake.  I don't think there's ever been a fish in there."

"okay, so it's like fish-hunting...or hunting a skittish animal-you got anything that's good to eat, but hard to catch?" Pol asked.

"a few things...so like stand-hunting for Ribex?"

Pol nodded, "It's a patience game, well, that's what we've got to do-only we don't have to sit perfectly still to do it...Carlos, right now, we are the scariest ****** on this station-so we have to be patient, let them get used to the idea that letting us out, treating us like people? isn't going to get several thousand innocent people dead."

"What about Debbie?" Carlos asked.

"She's probably handling it just fine." Pol told him, "She and I, we both spent time inside the box at Bascamp Two after the Coasties picked us up, and she spent about a week with the Clanners in their box, which is, if anything, worse than this one."

[Nikas_Zekeval]

Poor tradecraft on the WoB's part.

Did you post the specs on a ,Sampan.

To be fair, we don't know the WoB's schedule constraints, and they likely didn't know for certain how long it would take the Brightsville to recharge.  It is possible they had a rendezvous they could not delay indefinitely while waiting for the Brightsville to move on.  Plus extra delay might mean someone jumps in going the other way, and uses the Nadir point.  Not highly likely, but more so than when they planned this trip.

Just like they decided that keeping their stockpile on the station secret was less important than letting Debra go, they apparently decided jumping out on schedule was more important than remaining covert.  And at this point all they gave up was that someone, likely the owners off all that military hardware, was there.  It doesn't tell anyone who for certain.

Plus if anyone up the chain wants to try to remove some of that gear before the Lyrans come around for it, then leaving before the Brightsville gives the Wobbies more time to get the spacelift and try to grab some of it before anyone else comes back.

[Cannonshop]

LAS Arluna, Fox Class, New Capetown system...

"the first man that stares has sewage reclamation duty for the rest of the cruise."  Kaptain Michael Collins stated, "The first man that makes fun of her accent gets extra shifts in sewage rec.  anyone who emulates their example gets worse for additional duties-I'm not sure what that is yet, but I'm pretty sure I can think of something." 

His department heads were taking notes.  "Sir...how bad is either one?"

Michael sighed, "they-as in the Baroness and her staff, look like a corpse that's been left in vacuum-you've seen embolism-bursts and pressure damage, Flynn, as for her accent...she's Hillfolk, from, in this case, Arluna, at the Academy, people like her usually have to go through six to twelve weeks of speech therapy before the start of their freshman year, with supplemental for the entire term.  Provided the Archon decides it, Dame MacAulliffe will probably have to endure that too."

Chief Engineer Degarda chimed in, "ah god, Deportment department...Flynnie, yer Lucky you didn'a have t' take that, I had to hold back a year to, as the Dean said, 'Cure my Glaswegian tongue'-I can only imagine how thick it is for a gel that close to th' outies."

"So pretty heavy?"  Locklear, a Pandora native asked.

"VERY heavy..here, this is her..."

He played a clip from one of Debbie's reports to Margrave Adam Steiner.

Michael found it amusing how the more upper-class of his officers (and duty on a Warship is definitely one that attracts upper classes) flinched visibly. "my god she sounds like she's from Broken Wheel." Locklear said after a moment.

"Similar ethnic roots in the high country, the reports say she's much clearer...in spanish, probably because she had to take it in a Lyran school.  she's still a teenager, and probably sensitive about her appearance, so I don't want the crew making her even more uncomfortable."

"Sir, she survived a plague that killed seven billion people-so far, that is, it's killed seven billion people, on thirteen planets, and her homeworld went from slightly over two billion, to a little under a hundred million..." Flynn, the Security Department's head, stated.  "I think she's gotta be tougher than you're giving her credit for, but I'll make certain my lads treat her like frosted crystal."

"Well, that's good, she brought a bodyguard and an officer from her Militia to serve as chief of staff, you'll be interfacing with Captain Nguyen about security measures." Michael stated.

"What do we know about this guy?" Flynn asked.

"Groundpounder, used to be part of Kowloon's little wet-naval force, one of their 'nasty boys', only he emigrated to Arluna after spending more than six months on the ground, in the thick of it, and so, he's a mustang."

"Ex enlisted? tough duty, guy must be a hard man." Flynn said.

"Could be, could be he was just tough enough to get in over his head-guy landed as a corporal with the first team in, and stayed. He got to see a world die up close.  According to the docs, he's an incredibly cool customer-he kept the other officer, which I guess is her 'plus one' for the ball, calm through the entire decon cycle and isolation time." Michael stated, "that is the other reason I want some sensitivity shown these people-they just spent a week in a glass box being watched by strangers as they ate, spoke shat, and showered-which means they've already probably gotten the wrong impression about everyone outside the Quarantine."

There were mutters of offense around the officer's mess at that-terms like 'humiliating' and 'wrong'.

"Okay, now that we've had our little safety brief, our guests are due aboard in two hours, get your departments lined up." Michael told them.

S-7 Bus "Jk alpha", en route to the LAS Arluna...

"...skeevy feeling the whole time." Lana DeGarde was saying, "like we were being watched by perverts."

"They's jus' doin' they jobs." Debra commented, "ah jes hope thet's the end of et..." she looked out the windows as their shuttle flew through the traffic pattern and the bulk of the fox class corvette loomed ahead.

"Probably." Pol commented, "some of the stares we got from the Lyran crews though..."

"Ah'm thinkin' they cain' he'p themselfs." Debra said, "Ah shoulda bought makeup."

Lana shook her head, "don't waste the money-I tried it after I recovered-I had to put it on so thick I looked like one of those silent clowns that bothered people on the Villa Diega during the summer tourist season."

"ew."

"yeah.  Best advice as your aide, Milady? don't try to mask it, make them look at you as you are, and make them see you for who you are. People react when you're like that Ops chief on the Brightsville-throw enough confidence at them, and that's all they see-it worked for Consuela Drakow-and believe me, she owned those moles, when I was working for her, her fans were downright creepy about them."

Pol turned in the jumpseat, "So, Lana...what were you doing with Chief Levine 277 in the cargo deck at Zero Six shiptime?"

"a Lady never brags." Lana said, "Good thing I'm just an aide. If she had a pe-"

"That's too much information." Carlos interjected, "not only that, but it's too much info, that can get the Ops Chief a bad rap if it gets around."

"on the contrary, young sir...she was divine."

"Eww..." Debbie groaned, "Please, guys, no, I don't need to know that."

Lana giggled.  Pol snorted and turned back to the window, Debra hid her face in Carlos' arm.

"hey, aerojock, how much longer?" he asked.

"We've got docking clearance now, Colonel." the pilot told him.  (note: "Captain" shipboard belongs to the Commanding Officer of the vessel, regardless of size, or actual rank.  Pol was, therefore, 'Colonel' until he was either in command of a ship again, or on the ground.)

"Excellent, I think the conversation in here has gotten a little salty, and I'll be glad as hell when the kids have something to catch their attention."

"Agreed, sir." the pilot was all business as he began the docking cycle with the warship.

Pol's Arlunan Marines uniform was nothing but field uniform, so the base commander gave him a draw for his LAAF rank, noting that it was an active commission due to the Emergency and the actions of the former Regent on behalf of the Archon, then the man swapped the Kommandant's tabs for Colonel's.

it itched, right through the skinsuit he'd kept from the Brightsville.

The 'bus' docked at the personnel lock, and the pressure bars flashed green three times, indicating a solid seal and full press on the far side.

the locks opened...

"Permission to come aboard?" Pol asked.

"Permission Granted."

Captain Collins had an honour guard in the corridor, as Pol helped Debbie step out onto a floor kept 'steady' by spin gravity.

"Welcome aboard, Baroness, Colonel." Captain Collins told them. "This is Kommandant Flynn, my security Chief, and Leutnant Colonel Locklear, my Operations chief."

"Thank you." Debra said, managing to NOT looked around like a tourist...for about thirty seconds.

"this ...it's really nice!" she gushed in spanish, followed by a carefully enunciated, "Your ship is beautiful, Captain sir."

"Thank you, we do our best, if you'll come with me, we'll see to getting you situated in quarters.  How was the leg in that Sampan class vu Dao's commanding?"

"well, it was smaller than this...but fascinating! so many things to see and learn." she was enunciating very carefully. Pol could hear the hesitation as she forced her mouth to form clear words in german.

"I always wondered what it was like in the old days, to ship on a vessel like that..." Collins was, thankfully, being charming and keeping her engaged, it gave Pol a chance to speak with Flynn in person.

[Cannonshop]

Corridor, LAS Arluna...

"...she's an information sponge-and she'll learn anything she finds." Pol explained, "So you'll need to make sure your classified materials are locked up tight until she has a clearance, or she'll memorize them."

"seriously?" Flynn asked.

Pol nodded, "She had most of the ops manuals for the Brightsville committed to memory after the first reading, she's pulling four oh on her correspondence courses from Nagelring and UW Donegal, and they're not 'soft courses'...it took her listening to me babbling with a one-oh-six fever to learn Viet. understand? she's probably smarter than anyone I've ever met or ever will meet-so your guys should go around and let everybody know any info they don't want her to remember later, better be locked up tight now."

"what about the other kid?" Flynn asked.

"Carlos isn't dumb." Pol told him, "but he's not as fast as she is.  He's kind of struggling to keep up most of the time-with her.  I have to struggle to keep up with him...luckily, you can keep him amused with war stories, showing off expensive equipment, or talking about the relative merits of Battlemechs.  He was supposed to go to CMA two years ago on a family-ride, but the plague kind of fouled that up for him."

"How is he as a person? is he going to be a problem?" Flynn asked, "I mean, a young man, in crush with a girl, wants to be impressive..."

"He's a good kid." Pol said, "Smart, learns quick enough, he earned that Major's rank in a counterinsurgency campaign and the Clanners even respect him, he's not a problem if you remind him that it's not 'manly' to misbehave, or that something he's about to do might reflect badly on Debbie."

"What about the aides?"

"Lana...I don't know your shipboard unspoken rules, but if you have anyone of...looser virtue, she'll find them, she used to be a publicist for an exotic dancer in the tourist areas down south, where most people try to hide their vices, she puts them on display, somehow, she manages to steer clear of venereal diseases, but you'll want to issue instructions based on what the Captain thinks is right on that score, and keep an eye on her-preferably someone married or in a serious relationship, because those are about the only types she doesn't go after."

"the other two?"

"Corporal Lopez and Corporal Garcia? they'll stay where you put 'em as long as it's in shouting distance of Dame MacAulliffe, Garcia is a qualified Corpsman and Lopez is a meatshield.  I've made 'em study the LAAF 'smartbooks' and basic Naval courtesies, so they should be fine, just pawn them off on a good CPO while we're here, and let 'em do their jobs."

"so..you don't have a batsman?" Flynn asked.

"never needed one." Pol said, "On Arluna we don't have the personnel slack for any nonessential roles and most of the time when I'm not reporting to the minister of defense, I'm in the field either training newbies, repairing infra, or shooting at bandits."

"Field grunt, huh? How'd you get Naval then?"

"I was a combat diver on Kowloon-explosive ordinance disposal and emplacement, did a little work on the turkeys when they showed up, but I had papers to transfer to Blackwater and the testing scores for it, but there weren't any openings in the space side of the Guard until I volunteered for Arluna-so I got my shipside basic on a dropship headed into the Plague zone."

"bad?" Flynn asked.

"The worst." Pol told him, "everyone but me on the first team in died, and we weren't a step closer to the cure, most of the city we were landed in died too-and that was made even worse by the riots..."

"I can't even begin to imagine." Flynn said, "Worst I ever went through, was when Glengarry tried to rise after they handed it to that Carlysle fella-mechs in the streets...convinced me when I got of age that the one place I never wanted to be again, was a ground-side city in the middle of a firefight."

"Good choice, when we blew the Ia Drang dam, it got pretty hairy." Pol told him.

"Don't tell the story-not until we're off-duty in the officer's mess, and I can buy beer." Flynn said.

"How about your CO?" Pol asked, "I mean, usually you hear about 'good german name' commanders on capital ships..."

"Oh, Captain Collins? back in the twenties he ran smuggling runs for Free Skye, they actually dragged him into the service as a sentence, but he was talented enough that after his sentence was done, they kept him, and put him in the Warship program." Flynn explained, "he's a 'Peter' man through and through, commanded one of the droppers when Peter went in to evict Nondi and take the throne."

"Sounds like a good man." Pol said, "for the job, I mean..."

"Crew trusts him, he's got a solid head on his shoulders, very much a book officer, I'm thinkin' he'll probably get another Warship when his tour on the Arluna's done-one'a those Mjolnir class they're building down at Alarion."

[Cannonshop]

LCGS Brightsville,, P3X2743, October 15, 3067...

"Holy ****** shit." Bianh vu Lao whispered as the screens cleared and sensor returns started accumulating.

There was a fleet here.

Warships.

"Oh my god." she whispered, "look at them all."

The two LCN carriers that came with, were just jumpships with a few assault droppers.  "ops, are the Kreighund and the Lessiter equipped with batteries?"

"Yes and no.  The Lessiter's not converted, but the Kreighund is."

"Signal the Kreighund to get out of here right ****** now." Bianh ordered, "CAG, coordinate with the fighter escorts to cover the Lessiter while she recharges, Helm, I want us between..that and the Lessiter, if we're very fortunate, they'll want to talk before they convert us to flaming debris...if we aren't, we've gotta keep the Heinies alive for as long as possible, maybe they'll make it out-either way, unless those Lolas are an upgraded model, it's at least sixty hours for them to nav down to the Nadir point, which is time enough for the Lessiter to maybe hotcharge her core and jump out."

"Kreighund and Lessiter are reporting problems with their jump computers, Cap." Levine 277 said.

"Mine's still good." the Nav officer noted.

"yours doesn't hit up station updates using the automated nav update software." Bianh said quietly, "Do those ships look white to anyone?"

"yeah."

"Send the Kreighund and Lessiter a patch for their nav software from our buffer." Bianh ordered, "and keep watching, maybe they'll decide we're not worth the-"

"I'm getting a hail from that fleet out there, time delay fifteen mikes."

Bianh dropped her head back, and swore some more.  "Let's hear it."

"Lyran Vessels, this is Demiprecentor Alain Godfrey, commander of Task force Echo of the Word of Blake fleet, greetings in friendship and brotherhood, I'm pleased to offer your crews shore time while your cores are recharging, and would very much like to meet your flotilla commander for dinner at the Station, Over."

"What do we do?" Warrant Chu at helm control asked.

"We accept his offer." Bianh stated, "When a Farragut extends an offer like that, 'no' isn't an option.  Ops, send to the Demiprecentor that we would kindly like to accept his offer, and will be positioning for docking in..." she checked the time, "Half an hour, Nav, plot an in-system jump to the apogee point, at least that way, if they decide to start shooting, they'll be shooting at us, and not at the transports."

"Aye Captain.."

Let's hope he's really feeling friendly, and that this isn't a last-meal situation...

"Are we plotted?" Bianh asked.

"Plotted, as soon as they've cleared from the apogee point..."

"Telescope says the point is clear." Levine stated.

Bianh closed her eyes, "Engage."

Discontinuity

Later, aboard the former Longanecker processing station...

"...fancy bit of navigation you did, Leutenant...say, are you a Belter by chance?" Demiprecentor Godfrey asked.

"Rockjack, one of the outer burrows." Bianh replied, as they floated down the central shaft.

"Thought so! you know, I've always wondered about those old type fifty-ones, and when ROM noted your people were building a new version with an LF battery, I'd hoped to get a look a it, but with the travel restrictions..."

"we were running a VIP run to the transfer at New Capetown, we were actually on our way back." Bianh said, "So...you're the owners of around fifteen billion C-bills of military hardware up here?"

"Very astute, yes. We're prepositioning equipment for a counter-offensive against the Clans." he told her, "my task-group is actually looking forward to working with the rest of the Star League to liberate the worlds under Clan domination in the Lyran Commonwealth."

"Well, nobody briefed us." Bianh said, "I take it the discussions are still 'high level' and line officers like myself aren't important enough to inform?"

"well...operational secrecy." he told her, "Can't have the Clans getting forewarned too soon..." 
the hatch to the lower hab-ring irised open.  "The formal declaration is supposed to happen at the next Star League conference on Tharkad, in December." he added.

"oh...wow." Bianh sighed, "We were worried this was someone else."

[Sharpnel]

This one wonders if the WoB goes Batshit Insane after the next Whitting Conference in this version of the 'Verse.

[Trace Coburn]

  Almost certainly.  Which bodes ill for Bianh and Brightsville if they’re still ‘enjoying’ Blaker ‘hospitality’ come kick-off time....