Hull 721, plot arc the second

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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:Wassail, Merry Yule, Hail Eris, Adeste Fideles and all that...

To clear up some of the confusion, I'm not saying anything you don't already know but British English usage is the other way around. Single marks for speech, double marks- or simply quotation marks as we call them on this side of the pond- for speech. Apart from that, it's just easier to write in manuscript and to type up, so much so that I have to wonder why the American version evolved that way.
Hmm. Now that you mention it, I have no idea. Though... wait. Single marks for speech, double marks for speech?

I'm used to double marks for speech and single marks for random little phrases and contractions like the word 'don't'. I'm quite sure that you use single marks for random little phrases and contractions; do you also use them for speech? And if so, what are the double marks for?
And, yes, intense. Both of them firing double- meanings and curveballs at each other, both of them going further than they had intended and as far as they had hoped- I'm still not entirely sure myself who exploited who there, if indeed either of them did.
I suspect we have a case similar to the classic one of two drunks holding each other up...
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

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Eleventh Century Remnant wrote: Incidentally, her name; the in- universe suggestion has been made that she should print out a dictionary of baby's names, throw the pages into the air and shoot, and whichever one the hole goes through, settle for that. Her response was that she'd rather not pick the one that gets shot, thank you very much; do that, but with an E-Web, hose the cloud of pages down, eliminate the names on the bits of printout that got hit, and repeat until she's left with the luckiest.

Of course there is going to be an element of selection in this- 'Ugh, the E's, I don't want to be a Eudora, give me more power-' so any ideas? What sounds like it would suit her?
There's so few examples of feminine names in StarWars... *thinks*

Celes
Erzebet
Tryzandra
Merline
Risa/Riza/Rizza
Neavah (joke!)
Enide
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Kartr_Kana »

LadyTevar wrote:Risa/Riza/Rizza
Isn't that Star Trek?
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Eleventh Century Remnant »

What a place for a typo, I think parts of my brain must be on holiday...single marks for speech, double marks for quotations.

As for who did what to who, he got her to admit that she couldn't be loyal to the empire and to her comrades and also loyal to the dark side of the force, and hopefully to come down on his side, whatever it might turn out to be.

She got, well, a lot of things that could concievably be used against him, if she chooses to- and she got him to admit, for maybe the first time in twenty- five years, that he needs somebody, her. And to break his own rules, by doing something about it.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Thanas »

There are a lot more example of female names....

Iella
Mirax
Gara
Janara
Barada
Gaeriel
Eppie
Feena
Mirith
Mara
Mahd
etc....
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Crazedwraith »

Ha! On top of all his other troubles; isn't Lennart now in violation of fraternisation regulations? ;)
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Kartr_Kana »

IIRC Stormtroopers have their own chain of command which isn't technically under the ships captain. Of course the way it works by necessity is that they are under the captains command even if he's only "suggesting" their course of action or some other form of double speak. Since he's not "technically" in her chain of command it's not "technically" fraternization according to the letter of the law. In the spirit of the law however it would be. [/2cents]
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

ECR seems to be taking this in a different direction. The "independent chain of command, no logistics chain, no staff" stuff bouncing around about stormtroopers really is kind of absurd when you put it all together, and I think there's a lot to be said for trying to rationalize it by making (for instance) shipboard stormtroopers into what amounts to the ship's marine detachment... and locking them into the chain of command.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Kartr_Kana »

Oh I understand that and agree completely however IIRC in the first fic the troopers contacted their superiors on coruscant to find out what they should do with Lennart. So ECR has already set precedent for that, though from what I've seen he's been trying to blend the two together. They follow the Captains orders in most situations, but should there be any question about his loyalty they can end run around him and even remove him if necessary. Which of course is exactly how Palpantine probably wants it. In most situations the captain makes the call and everything runs smoothly and victory will be achieved. If however a captain tries to lie to his crew and give them orders that harm the New Order the stormtroopers can bypass him and get the skinny from their chain of command and remove the captain.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Vehrec »

I've got to say, your writing style is getting more and more offbeat. And as a result it's getting harder to read. If there's one person around here who would be improved leaps and bounds by an editor, it's you. I've been one of your fans since the start, but this chapter was a hard read even for me.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Eleventh Century Remnant »

On the chain of command issue; as I see it, there was a tug of war going on, between the professional elements of the armed services and the political, as represented ultimately by His Imperial Majesty.

Ive been working on the assumption, lately, that Palpatine deliberately set out to engineer a system that depended on himself, and brought out and turned it's members into what he wanted; both factors point to a hideous tangle of divided fiefdoms and interlocking responsibilities, political interference in the military and a blizzard of semi-military bodies like CompForce, multiple lines of command and internal backbiting.

To be honest I think the situation is actually worse in the abstract than I want to portray, and would be much worse for a sector fleet based unit than for a unit of a Fleet Destroyer Squadron with such a wide theoretical operational area that they have to gloss over a lot of the politics if they're to function at all. That Jorian Lennart, ex politics student and commentator, chose to work his way into a position where he can avoid as much of the politics as possible is not coincidence.

There are so many tangled lines and sides, the political remains of the separatists, the genuine believers in the new order moderate and radical, the fanatics and the fake- fanatics they've spawned, the old aristocracy, conflicting industries each trying to twist the political environment to favour them, the various strands and frames of opposition and the power currents within the Empire, Palpatinian-monarchists and the handful who know the dark truth.

There would be a slow- burning civil war happening within the Empire anyway, even without the Alliance to Restore the Republic; the fissures become open after Endor, but they existed beforehand. In a mess like that, the empire and it's institutions, especially the starfleet, are both the playing pieces and the board. There is copious civil interference in military affairs, and military interference in civil affairs, and chains of command and responsibility get tangled.

The only thing that really matters is whether he thinks he's broken his own rules, and yes, he does. For a reason, that may or may not turn out to have been a good one.


Vehrec, I'm almost as surprised to find myself writing this; it wasn't what I had in mind, it was where the plot went, and I think I will now be less rude about people like Alexander Kent and the 'wardroom drama' school. High politics are more straightforward than low, and combat is more straightforward and more easily graspable on the page than two complicated people being complicated at each other, and to be honest I tend to read this aloud to myself to make sure I've got it straight. Editing would be good, there are definitely what could be describeds as 'wilder excesses' in there, but would anyone be daft enough?
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Eleventh Century Remnant »

Hull 721 arc 2 ch 16a

A cell, on Corellian Engineering's dockyard complex;

'Lieutenant Aldrem, understand first that this is utterly illegitimate, procedurally. There is absolutely no way that this ought to be happening; a judge coming down to have a private word with the prisoner before the trial- but nothing about this entire damned business has been legit so far, so why start now?' Lennart told him.

'Not much about it has made sense, either.' Aldrem admitted. 'I was pretty sure the system was going to crap on me from a great height- at the time it seemed like just another risk of combat. Something that had to be done. Now-'

'It's the moments afterwards, when you realise just how much shit you're in, that get you down.' Lennart filled in for him. Trying to behave as normally as possible.


'The cumulative effect of your regular, routine crimes should have landed you on trial for your life long ago in any case; this might just be the balance of the universe readjusting itself.' Lennart said, and Aldrem knew it was true.

'On the other hand, bugger the universe, it's big enough and old enough to look after itself. There are at least three ways this could go.' Lennart said, accidentally telling the truth when he had meant to say two.

'How many of them end in hideous and squalid death?' Aldrem asked, optimistically- he has faith in his commanding officer, Lennart thought, kriff knows why. And is he wrong? Not if I can help it.

'Two, maybe two and a half.' Lennart deadpanned, trying to cheer his lunatic gunner up a little, make him think there was some light at the end of the tunnel.


'Which two, sir?'

'Actually, there are four options. The rear- admiral talked with you, explained a little about what all this is about?'

'Enough to get me thinking out loud about it.' Aldrem realised.

'Right; the options are, we try you in a purely Imperial naval court, call in officers from the oversector, on the evidence as it now stands, and you'll probably get fried. Not really a positive outcome.

Option two; we call on the Corellian Navy to supply the officers for your trial, and hope there's enough anti- Imperial sentiment among them to land relatively lightly on you- but I doubt it. They might choose to mock, but the best option there is that they try to kidnap you, have you thrown into a corellian jail and then, after the fuss dies down, offer to pardon you for service in their fleet.

Not legally certain, not practically certain, even in the very best case you'd be bored out of your skull unless they start shooting at the Empire, and the chances of a retrial being ordered that defaults back to option one are high.


Option three; we deliberately cock it up. Actually, I think there may be six alternatives. No, seven. If we, and that would include at least four other commanding officers of ships, manage to mishandle the technicalities badly enough to make a mistrial- well, yes, but I think that would default to summary punishment from higher authority.

Option four is that we play the political game; try you, find you guilty of a lesser offence than outright treason, and pack you off to, well, probably Kessel but hopefully you won't be there for long enough for it to matter. I can't see Kor Alric's friends- all right, co-conspirators- letting you rot. They'd come after you.

There would of course be an ambush, and that would net us prisoners for interrogation, and another step closer to uncovering it all. The downside is that Kessel is a hostile place, it might take them time to get around to you and all sorts of bad shit might happen in the meantime.


Option five is that we fight it out in court; try to prove, with what little we actually have- mainly thanks to you- that Kor Alric was a dubious, devious bastard who deserved to die. Doesn't sound healthy, does it?

Option six is the one over r squared defence- don't be there. A mysterious lapse in security of some inexplicable and unpredictable nature, a minor crisis during the refit, and some kind of bizarre, unanticipatable cascade failure that destroys the monitor cameras, security doors, all that lot.

Option seven is that I stand up in court and declare that no case for trial exists, you were doing precisely what I would have wanted you to do under the circumstances, the responsibility is entirely and solely mine.' Lennart admitted. 'I want to spin this out, buy time. If you get a verdict now, on the basis of what we can prove, you're not going to make it.'


'But Captain, what about the recordings, the vox tapes?' Aldrem objected.

'And the court reminds the prisoner that in the current galactic circumstances of prevalent electronic fraud, the only prudent option is to examine the probabilities.

It is inherently more probable that a man with an extremely rocky disciplinary record commit murder than it is that a high official of the Empire commit treason.' Lennart gave a good impersonation of a stuffed shirt judge, then changed back to normal. 'Officially, anyway.

Any honest statistical analysis would show that it isn't that way, but it's been fourteen billion years and there hasn't been an honest statistician yet- and even if there was, do you think that would have anything to do with this?'


'This- all right, even with a completely fair shake I'd still have something to answer for, but this is bullshit. He's still immune to the law, even after he's dead?' Aldrem said.

'Of course. Why else did you blow him up?' Lennart lied. One hurdle at a time. Defend Aldrem, get him as far off the hook as possible- then see what could be made out of that to protect his own hide.

If the full truth were out, then not only would he personally be in deep trouble, but Aldrem would lose his best protection- the fact that he had acted to destroy a traitor.


'Look, I'm going to be the presiding judge, not the defending officer, but, hm, I could try to cock it up so badly it ends in a mistrial, we'll have to see how gullible the rest of the panel are, but considering how highly political this is...

Galactic Spirit, I'm slow this week. The chances are the tribunal and the officers of the court are going to be scared crapless themselves by the thought of what this could do to their careers and prospects of breathing. It could work- how big a risk do you want to take, or is that a silly question?'

'What's the objective?' Aldrem said, managing to summon a strain of optimism- a gloomy, moody strain, but an improvement.


'Triple header, with any luck. Get you at least part way off the hook by playing the, no, paying with the politics, terrify them of the consequences either way.

The conspiracy will undoubtedly have a man involved; finding him and breaking him will be another step forwards. The other thing is that it lets me sound them out, see what they actually think of the whole bloody business.'

'Do you think there's a real chance I'll get off- or at least get out alive?'Aldrem asked.

'From what the court wants to do to you? A fighting chance, at least. Then I get to rake you over the coals, and I am considering it literally, for the damage you did to my ship, never mind possibly the worst timing in the known universe. Blowing up most of the evidence in your favour- I need to do something about that if nothing else.'


'So assuming the board of inquiry doesn't get me-'

'I'd fine you the cost of the repairs.' Lennart said, smiling.

'Ah, kriff. In other words, your money or your life?' Aldrem said. That would more or less wipe him out, financially.

'Which is an infinitely better set of options than “and.”'Lennart pointed out. 'How much of a risk are you willing to take?'

'Why do I have an option?' Aldrem said, thinking about it and worrying.

'That is a question that the court would be far better off not knowing the answer to, so don't give them reasons to ask it.' Lennart said.

'Skipper- does my answer to that question affect yours?' Aldrem asked, worried.

'Pretty much.' Lennart admitted. 'Well?'

'Ah, kriffit. What has playing safe ever achieved?' Aldrem said, deciding to take the chance.



So this was the day, then. And on the basis of what it had taken to get here, there had damn' well better be a fleet destroyer command waiting for him at the end of this.

It had initially been nerve-racking for the line officer, then kind of fun breaking loose and going wild, then it had started to become truly terrifying. Karl- Anton Raesene had a fairly high opinion of his leadership abilities, only reasonable for the commander of a medium frigate, but he knew he wasn't this good.

Grumbling like a man with rebellion on his mind was one thing, but the number of people in the office that were willing to listen, that at the very least failed to report him- or that he thought he could conceivably talk into going along- was high.


The spin machine had been hard at work, but if possible they had finally overdone it. Retroactively branding a being who had been their Moff for fifteen years a traitor was too great an act of doublethink for most to swallow.

Never mind that what was really wrong was that for fifteen years “they” had failed to notice...

The Empire simply hadn't been around long enough, hadn't had a chance to achieve the depth and duration of oppression, to get away with that big a lie. Too many people had memories and were prepared to use them.

He had gone off- the first overtly off the rails sign, in fact, a long rant on that very subject. If the armed forces of the Empire had as little ability to retain information as the bastard propagandists seemed to want them to have, half the rank and file wouldn't be able to put their pants on in the morning.


Not that all of them got it right as it was, of course, rank and file? Smelly and abrasive was closer to the mark- but if everyone thought that little, it would tear the guts out of any real operational analysis, and any criminal investigation.

It would also go a long way to crushing the spirit of the fighting end of the setup. The Imperial Starfleet wasn't a force that had all that much in the way of tradition to go on, but what it had, it needed.


'What is this supposed to be, “what have you done for us today?” What is this three second horizon, corporatist nonsense? I joined an armed service, not a kriffing market trading partnership.

Dreck, it's not about getting results, that's the end, they're mistaking it for the means, what do they want us to do, declare war on the civilian population of the galaxy? Having high standards is the point, we can get good results if we have good standards, and if all they care about is results they're going to start pissing those standards down the drain and end with neither.

It's also a damned contradiction- they are more or less telling us, if you look closely enough, to forget our own laws. How the kriff would they like it if we actually took them seriously on that?

This isn't order, stability, conformity; when they stop playing by their own rules it isn't order, it's anarchy, and I for one did not sign up to defend peace and justice in the galaxy to find myself shuffling paper for a gang of backstabbing anarchists.'

He had gone red at the end of that, trying to look like a man belatedly realising he had said too much, and slammed the office door behind him- but they had practically applauded him for it.


He waited to be called on to the carpet, but nothing happened. That was the most worrying aspect of all; there was a mood at large, in the office, the headquarters, worst of all the sector, of disillusionment.

If the last fifteen years of loyalty and order, of Imperial progress, had been a steaming pile of bantha crap, then- the sector was ripe for rebellion, far more so than it had been when it was a de facto alliance military stronghold.

What he really had to do now was to find some rebels. He thought he had had a lead when one of the naval end of the office, whom he had actually had pegged as a hard- liner, asked him how he could manage to fight for the Empire against the Alliance, and turn round and verbally savage them the next.

The use of the word 'them' was interesting, and would have been worrying if he was a real security man; but it sent the naval officer off on another rant, which if he hadn't been about to defect anyway could have led him straight to the disintegration booth.

Out here, the Empire was about new order, cutting away all the dead wood of the Republic, right? So who is the deadwood? Anyone and everyone 'they', the Lords of the Empire a suspiciously large proportion of whom were holdovers from the Republic, damn' well chose.

The first requirement of being a good servant of the empire is to be disposable, so that they can get rid of you whenever they felt like it. The second requirement is to be so desperate to keep your job and your life that you would do absolutely everything that the bastards told you to do, including doing the disposing work.

The third requirement is to pretend to believe that there's some actual point to it all and to pretend to like it. “Order” means shut up and do what we tell you. “Stability” means no matter how obviously barbaric, counterproductive, degrading, moronic, absurdly inhuman or beneath contempt it was there is no alternative.

“Conformity” means that you're not allowed to think if they don't want you to, not allowed to believe what they don't tell you to, not allowed to live if “they” don't want you to, so shut up and file into the lethal chambers, sheeple.

Do you want to be a statistic? A nameless, interchangeable operator-stroke-victim of the machinery of fear? To serve, protect and defend the right of the government to exterminate it's people whenever it takes a hissy fit, and to never, ever question authority, especially when it is transparently corrupt and incompetent?


That rant definitely raised eyebrows. It should have landed him straight in the brig, but at this point, they couldn't have been entirely sure of him- was he working alone? Was he, who after all he had played a distinguished part in the Battle of Ord Corban, possibly actually acting as a provocateur?

Or had he genuinely lost the plot? A medical excuse for taking him into protective custody, that might work, might be doable without ruffling too many feathers. It would take the ISB, not the best lateral thinkers in the universe, some time to dig that out of their playbook.

In fact, he worried about that too. He had some gift for oratory, making people believe and follow was part of the job, but he was no hustings hustler; it wasn't a consciously prepared speech. It just sort of came tumbling out, as if it had been building up for a while. .


Frigate command in this sector, in a ship that had definitely seen better days, had been an acidic business that had built up a lot of three in the morning questions; what am I doing here, why am I doing this? What's it worth, what's it all for?

Obdurate had been a good ship with a good crew, but there still had been something missing, and looking back, that had been it. Mission, dedication, the burning sense that what they were doing was worth doing and dying for.

To be fair, it had been at least a thousand years since anyone had felt that way about the Republic, but now... Imperial patriotism had always felt staged, forced, shallow- rooted, and the more heavily it was enforced, the less natural it became.

That wasn't the same as outright rebellion, was it? It was just normal careerism, the sort of stress anyone going anywhere had to deal with, and all he was doing now was parroting and exaggerating Rebel cant, wasn't he?


Nobody he could trust. Like better than ninety percent of the deployed fleet, there were broken relationships behind him. His old crew- well, up to a point. For physical backup, maybe. For something straight. For the politics, and for something this deeply dodgy especially, no.

Just have to wing it, and hope that he wasn't actually starting to lose it, or that he was burning too many bridges behind him. His routine had been getting increasingly erratic, too; perpetual night shift, long days, increasingly cranky.

Demanding investigations of people who hadn't even crossed the security service's notice, throwing others out and denying co-operation on the grounds of insufficient evidence, general minor ranting. At one point, just before the chosen moment, he had physically dropkicked an ISB agent out of the building, shouting after him 'And who watches the watchers, eh?'


One very useful thing about this job, it was an excellent place for a rebel spy to be, with the access it gave to the fleet's security files. The spec-ops team that were backing him up had found leads, and he had checked them against the fleet's records.

He had thought a bit about this, what the record of a genuine rebel agent might look like. Even under Xeale, some work had been done, and there were a few suspected rebsymps in the flies- but most of them, he was sure, were false positives.

The problem was that the pattern could pass for nearly normal; minor trouble that built up resentment then tapered off, looking just like someone getting their shit together- usually under the threat of having the orifice it came out of handed to them. Exactly what the fleet was supposed to do to young men just out of school.

The really flamboyant troublemakers were almost always apolitical (at least at the time), the anonymous majority were the anonymous majority and enough said there, but it was the guys who learned the ropes and started to blend in that were the dangerous ones. He went looking for slight deviations from the pattern, moving up too fast or too slow, and found one.


There was a ship's writer who had done their time, fifteen years, and started a hydroponic exotic-fruit farm. He would do. First things first working late, after everyone else had gone- leave the office lights on, and set the boobytrap. A few dozen litres of swoop burner fuel and a blaster powerpack with overload dowel on a tripwire, nothing fancy.

He had left a note for the cleaning staff; entirely apart from the fact that they were mostly innocent, it was a waste of a good explosion. Not much point wiping the files or anything like that; too many backup copies in too many places.

If it had been possible to come up with a feasible and foolproof way of corrupting them, he would have, but again, backups- and simply up -loading misleading or meaningless data might have worked, but he didn't have time for a sophisticated complex of lies, and the Imperial bureaucracy had caught on to the concept of change logs by now.


Drain private accounts, sign out a personal weapon and leg it, then. Three in the morning, local time, found him hiding in a tangle of plumbing that was feeding a trough of peelifruit plants and waiting. He had sent a message, and if it had been received, and believed-

The bluehouse lights snapped on. 'Come out where I can see you.' Bold voice; didn't sound like a bureaucrat. Good- I think, Raesene thought. He did; he was trailing a kitbag, the place probably had sensors that could see him anyway.

The lights were only on in the rear half of the building- the half he was standing in. He could make out a dark shape holding what looked like an A280 medium rifle, and another handful of dark shapes semi- visible outside the bluehouse.

'I'm looking to join the Alliance.' He said- might as well get right to the point.


'Why?' the dark shape asked. Raesene waited for the dramatically appropriate moment. The farm was on a hillisde overlooking the city; the office was visible form here. He had said that he would be working late, and he was expecting the security bureau to arrest him, now should do it-

There was a brilliant white point of light, swelling into a blue- white globe before being surrounded by a roaring blast of chemical flame. 'Well, I just blew up the place where I used to work. Will that do?'
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Raesene »

I was concerned that the story was dead - good thing it'S not :-)

Seems I'm back in the game - and wrecked an ISB office building... I hope my TIE scout bound for the Unknown Regions is ready ;-)

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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

Good to see this back, ECR. I like Raesene's scene, and have a few comments on Lennart's:
Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:'Lieutenant Aldrem, understand first that this is utterly illegitimate, procedurally. There is absolutely no way that this ought to be happening; a judge coming down to have a private word with the prisoner before the trial- but nothing about this entire damned business has been legit so far, so why start now?' Lennart told him.
Clearly, Lennart is testing the prototype version of the greeblion gun...
'On the other hand, bugger the universe, it's big enough and old enough to look after itself. There are at least three ways this could go.' Lennart said, accidentally telling the truth when he had meant to say two...

'Actually, there are four options...'

'...Actually, I think there may be six alternatives. No, seven...'
This is a running gag (well, a jogging gag. Sprinting gag?) that offers a lot of insight into how Lennart thinks. I like it.
'Galactic Spirit, I'm slow this week.'
!?
When he's already going at that pace?
Aaaand that offers even more insight.
'Option six is the one over r squared defence- don't be there. A mysterious lapse in security of some inexplicable and unpredictable nature, a minor crisis during the refit, and some kind of bizarre, unanticipatable cascade failure that destroys the monitor cameras, security doors, all that lot.'
Ah, yes, distance as the best form of radiation shielding... what's the name of the radioactive particle responsible for legal punishments, do you think?
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Raesene »

Simon_Jester wrote: [...]
'Option six is the one over r squared defence- don't be there. A mysterious lapse in security of some inexplicable and unpredictable nature, a minor crisis during the refit, and some kind of bizarre, unanticipatable cascade failure that destroys the monitor cameras, security doors, all that lot.'
Ah, yes, distance as the best form of radiation shielding... what's the name of the radioactive particle responsible for legal punishments, do you think?
I'd say Justicium is in very short supply in the Empire, but Tyrannium is as prevalent as Hydrogen...

"In view of the circumstances, Britannia waives the rules."

"All you have to do is to look at Northern Ireland, [...] to see how seriously the religious folks take "thou shall not kill. The more devout they are, the more they see murder as being negotiable." George Carlin

"We need to make gay people live in fear again! What ever happened to the traditional family values of persecution and lies?" - Darth Wong
"The closet got full and some homosexuals may have escaped onto the internet?"- Stormbringer

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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Eleventh Century Remnant »

I am not going down the Star Trek particle zoo route; well, no further than it takes for comedy value anyway. I think we can assume that the Standard Model- well, ish- is more or less in effect, and I have quite enough problems with particles of negative proper time and imaginary mass which are really theoretically possible without trying to figure the rules under which something like that operates. And no, a Red Dwarf crossover expedition to go and mine the things is definitely out of the question.

The Justice Particle is therefore a composite particle exhibiting highly peculiar behaviours such as sentience, with a mass in it's final metastable form usually between 50 and 200kg but sometimes much higher.

Oh, and another mad crossover idea that just came to me- Thrawn is, notoriously and extremely obviously, blue, right? Who else in SF shares high competence, extreme deviousness, ruthless efficiency, blue pigment? Simon, you really ought to get this...

Let me mention a few names. Jalte. Prellin. Helmuth.

Yep, the Kalonians fit the bill rather well- possibly too well. If only there hadn't been some of the books beyond the core Thrawn Trilogy, then it would have been entirely possible to believe that "Chiss space" is one big lie, they are in fact a Kalonian colony on the run, and the extragalactic invaders Thrawn is worried about aren't a gang of tentacle waving asphyxiation candidates, it's Kim bloody Kinnison and half a zillion Galactic Patrol dreadnoughts...just a thought.

I'm sure I left a topic around here somewhere. Oh, yes. This TIE Scout- the plan is to have LCdr Raesene smuggled into the Rebellion, basically to use them as the investigating agency- they can work entirely outside the law, ask questions that no legitimate Imperial can, find out things that no Imperial agency not already neck deep in their own agendas would be able to find out. I dare say a YT- series may be involved there somewhere, but I'm still trying to work out where the TIE Scout comes in.

I'm generally feeling at a pretty low ebb these days, and the creative juices aren't flowing the way they ought to, the time betwen updates is longer than I want it to be, but I'm not going to give up. This is the first half of the chapter after all, more soon.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:Oh, and another mad crossover idea that just came to me- Thrawn is, notoriously and extremely obviously, blue, right? Who else in SF shares high competence, extreme deviousness, ruthless efficiency, blue pigment? Simon, you really ought to get this...

Let me mention a few names. Jalte. Prellin. Helmuth.
Hot damn, and congratulations! You've preempted me; the thought had flickered across my mind a few times, but it never came up at the right time.

There's only one very small catch. The Kalonians don't have glowing red eyes... well, that's easy enough to fix.
Yep, the Kalonians fit the bill rather well- possibly too well. If only there hadn't been some of the books beyond the core Thrawn Trilogy, then it would have been entirely possible to believe that "Chiss space" is one big lie, they are in fact a Kalonian colony on the run, and the extragalactic invaders Thrawn is worried about aren't a gang of tentacle waving asphyxiation candidates, it's Kim bloody Kinnison and half a zillion Galactic Patrol dreadnoughts...just a thought.
You know, if you don't get around to writing that Star Wars/Lensman crossover one of these days, I might just try beating you to the punch... though I'm not sure I'd get very far, or that it would be such a hot idea to post it here even then. I've got a lot of practice to do as a writer.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by drakensis »

Now that is a very scary idea for a crossover.

If nothing else, I could see Kinnison looking at the Galactic Empire, rolling up his sleeves and laying plans for one of his classic infiltration jobs. Right then, how to fake being a Sith 101...

Meanwhile setting up bases from which to spring the usual panoply of Galactic Patrol superweapons upon the Imperial Starfleet.

Palpatine: "Where does he get these toys...?"
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

The problem with setting it up that way is that it's hard to make it two-way.

Lensman FTL drives actually work better over intergalactic distances than they do within galaxies, whereas Star Wars ships have a pretty firm canonical inability to cross between galaxies at all.* If Civilization comes to visit the Galactic Empire, it's a one-way interaction, unlike the one between Civilization and Boskone.

Still a solid idea, but speaking for myself, I'd be more interested in trying a variant on the classic wormhole gambit. Though that's been tried so many times that it may be getting stale, come to think of it.

*Discounting nearby satellite galaxies that are the GFFA's equivalent of the Magellanic Clouds...
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Andras »

Hyperspatial Tube, rotated twice, in a different direction. It goes to GFFA instead of the FTL universe.

Though, I always wanted to see the uber-capitalist Civilization drop in on the commies in StarTrek, perhaps the Second Galaxy, discovered after defeating the Eich (taking the place of the Dominion, and before DS9).
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

That's nothing all that tricky; I'd call it a translation convention and say that "hyperspatial tube" is the Lensman setting's name for the phenomena we call "wormholes." Smith introduced the concept only a few years after the time that Einstein and Rosen published the first paper showing a possible wormhole-type solution to the Einstein field equations in general relativity, and before anyone got around to inventing the word "wormhole."

In terms of properties, a hyperspace tube has all the desired characteristics of the Great SF Crossover Wormhole- canonical ability to connect over intergalactic distances is just the beginning. It can also connect alternate universes even when those universes have different physical laws: witness the trips into N-Space made by Kinnison and crew in Second Stage Lensman and Children of the Lens.

So any Crossover Wormhole (including the ones popularized in various SW vs. ST scenarios) will probably be seen as a hyperspace tube as far as the Lensmen are concerned. That doesn't mean the people on the other end of the tube are going to call it the same thing. A tube/wormhole generated from the Star Wars side might be best; I'm imagining a story similar to ECR's "Squelch of Empires."

Personally, I think it might be best for the GFFAians to leave the Lensman universe the hell alone if possible. It's not the weapons technology they have to worry about, though the combination of numbers and ludicrous real-space mobility conferred by the inertialess drive could be tricky to handle. The real problem is what happens if the Eddorians find out there's a third galaxy full of planets for them to conquer, or if the Arisians decide they dislike the Galactic Empire for the same reasons they dislike Boskone.

In Star Wars terms, the Lensman setting has enormous numbers of low to mid-level Force users (the Lensmen themselves, and entire species with significant powers of telepathy, mind control, and/or extra-sensory perception), along with two dueling races of 'energy beings' that would make Yoda or Palpatine want to sit down and cry. To make matters worse, they handle "the Force" scientifically, to the point of being able to build electronic devices that block/scramble it, rather than on a mystical and alchemical basis the way the Jedi and Sith do.
________

As for your other idea, hmm.

I'm not sure just how capitalist Civilization is. Something of the kind is alluded to in Gray Lensman, but there doesn't seem to be much evidence as to how far it goes. They've had bad experiences with trust-like economic entities like Spaceways Limited.

Also, Civilization probably wouldn't outright try to conquer the Federation, and there's no way in hell the Federation is going to be more than a nuisance to the Patrol. The most likely outcome I see is economic imperialism, and trying to write a good story about that could be difficult.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Eleventh Century Remnant »

Short update, the third of four scenes that make up ch 16. this feels forced, a bit broken- backed in fact, and I'm not overly happy with it. A simple tale of stupidity recieving it's just reward.



The Rear- Admiral had prepared, as always, carefully. The local rebel cell's operations made it obvious that they were devoted to the concept of total ruthlessness- more than half in love with their ability to shed blood in fact.

In doubt, under extreme pressure, baffled and trying to think for their lives, they would default to that. He expected them to try to set up a hostage situation.

He had also taken a calculated risk that their methods had made them unpopular, their pool of supporters was shallow, and their awareness net was mainly slice- based with little human intelligence.

The ambush had been arranged accordingly.


As they made their way out of their sub-sub-basement, loaded down with everything they could carry, the cell leader had a plan. 'Time? Right. Main tunnels, hijack a crowded commuter train, threaten to kill the passengers unless they route us to the spaceport and give us a ship.'

'Bloodthirsty, boss.' The sniper/hitwoman number two pointed out, but unenthusiastically- this was an argument they had had many times before.

'No other way.' he said, and intended to have his word taken as law. Alrika disagreed.


'Apart from avoiding letting them know where we are. Are there no maintenance and service tunnels beneath these? Did you have no secure exfiltration route?' she snarked at him.

'They're blocking everything, you heard. And who is in charge here? You and your man are refugees from a blown cell, and did I miss the part where she-' meaning Rafaella- 'is the daughter of a senior Imperial officer?'

It might be safer to be a hostage than an ally of this lot, Rafaella thought, but decided that being away from them entirely would be best. She could only think of one immediately effective tactic; she laughed at him.

'I did my undergrad dissertation on revolt and dissent in Hutt space in the immediate post- Xim period, and you've still just managed to win the prize for the stupidest plan I've ever heard. You think the Empire wouldn't be perfectly happy for you to shoot us?'


Shut up and let me think.' the cell leader snapped at her.

We don't have months.' Alrika said, acidly. 'You resort to terrorism; we'll find our own way.'

'Boss, we can't afford to let them wander off-' the sniper said, failing to convince her demented cell leader.

'You know what? Fine. Go your own way, for all the shit you've brought down on us. Good riddance to you and-'

'Why are you trying to get us to let you go?' the sniper asked.

Rafaella, realising that she had worked it out and that the time for guile was over, said 'We stand a better chance without the killer clown squad.'


There was a long paralysed moment as the cell leader tried to decide whether he could go back on his own words, spoken in anger less than thirty seconds ago. Eventually, he managed it.

'Bring them.' he snarled, and stomped off down the concrete corridor. The dozen or so members of the cell fit in around them, prodding Alrika, Lev and Rafaella forward.

'That worked very well.' Alrika said, sarcastically, to her daughter-in-law.


'In a situation like this, what would my father do?' Rafaella asked.

They were walking- and Alrika was hopping on a crutch and a cast- through ankle deep foul water, around a kilometre down in the support tunnels for the light rail network of a city that was tunnelled deep underground.

Correllia could have been like this, but had chosen not to; they had gone outwards, a garden planet and a sky full of orbitals. Alrika was not fond of being in the bowels of the earth, any earth; she gave in to frustration.

'I have never been able to predict what my lunatic brother will do except invariably make my life worse; I suspect that around here he would start with “You're under arrest.” .'


Rafaella was only a postgraduate teaching assistant; she had proven her intelligence, not least to herself, but discretion was harder come by. She said, in a conversational tone that could easily be overlooked, 'Well, how about that for an option? States' evidence-'

She sounded far too artificially normal for the circumstances; drew attention. The cell leader rounded on her gun drawn, shoved it into her nose, pushed her back- she would have fallen if her aunt hadn't caught her. 'I knew it, you're a spy-'

Rafaella knew she ought not to antagonise him, but couldn't help it- he probably didn't have a good side to get on anyway. 'Perhaps you should start giving me reasons to belong to the Rebellion, you bomb- happy butcher.'


'Reasons? After Alderaan-'

The sniper pulled at his arm. 'Time, boss, we don't have time for this.'

Or quiet; the tunnels made noises echo, and he could be heard a long way off. Didn't stop him ranting. 'The Empire is evil beyond reason, beyond redemption, everything has to be destroyed. Fire with fire-'

'Murder for murder and tyranny for tyranny. I do “past”, there have been trillions like you and they usually turn out worse than the powers they oppose; even the Hutts were freedom fighters once, in the time of Xim the Despot.'

She was exaggerating with that last and knew it, rival tyrants was far closer to the mark. She wanted a reaction out of him, an oh, no we're not, that she could then challenge with a “prove it.” His plan stank, morally, but it also gave a black feeling in her head.


Too late. 'There's a transbot rake coming; save the theory for afterwards. Places.'

They meant to stop the subway train by crosswiring a signal to show red. They were hiding in a maintenance accessway, heard the metal scream as automatic safety systems tried to halt the train and the driver, guessing or fearing, tried to override them.

The safety systems won, and the rebels piled out of the side tunnel and ran towards it. Rafaella dug her one good heel in, pushed against Alrika and her husband when they tried to carry her forward.

'This doesn't smell right.' she said. 'Smart enough to track you down, stupid enough to let a loaded commuter train run through a trouble spot in the middle of a high security alert?'


'It's a trap.' Alrika shouted at the rebel cell, spotting the logic at once, but the shooting had already started and they didn't hear her.
Blow in the windows, blast open the doors, scream and charge, paralyse with intimidation.

It worked for about three seconds, until the rebel team realised that their targets weren't struck dumb because they were just that good, their victims were struck dumb because they were dummies; droid extras and movie- grade special effects animatronics.

'Get out get out get out, it's a -' after giving them just enough time to panic, the two live, concealed beings in the carriage made their play. Squad autogunners from the admiral's personal guard, opening fire with light repeaters at what was knee height for anyone in- and head height for anyone outside- the carriage.

There was a split second for anyone outside to take cover under their arc of fire- which was supposed to happen, because then the stun bombs that had been planted on the underside of the train went off.


Alrika, slightly deafened and shaken by the reflected stun blasts down the tunnel, started the other way saying 'We need to move now.' Fatuous, but forgivable under the circumstances.

The admiral's personal guard had picked up his sense of humour. 'Before the covering party arrives in force?' A voice said from behind them- a voice wearing a helmet, with a gun in it's hands.

'Back me up.' Rafaelle whispered to Alrika, and started lying for her life.


'Thank the powers that you found us.' she said to the lead, orange pauldroned trooper. 'I expect the Admiral wants to see us now? That way's blocked, it's on fire, I know a shortcut, follow me.' she said, and hopped and crutched her way past them down the side tunnel, radiating at them with the Force.

She didn't know what she was doing, but if the Force was going to get her shot at, chased, jailed, electrocuted, exploded, harrassed, kidnapped and shot at again, then it damned well owed her. I'm not the enemy, she was radiating at the stormtroopers; believe me.

The squad weren't used to such things. Two of them had been with the admiral when he had captained Jerec's flagship, but he hadn't exactly discussed force resistance techniques with them.

She had a fair amount of raw talent, nowhere near proper control yet- but this was a contingency allowed for in the mission plan. She was pushing at an open door.


Even at that, even with that, it wasn't easy. It was hard to retain focus, hard too to remain conscious. She didn't know where they were going, was guessing and trying to look confident. They arrived a couple of minutes later at a tunnel junction, an 'x' of metal tracks marking the spot inlaid in the duracrete for light service vehicles.

'Right,' she said, making an effort to look untroubled that wouldn't have fooled a five year old. 'You had better rejoin your comrades; you've escorted us clear of the danger zone, we can make our own way from here.'

She could feel it not working. She was barely holding herself up; bone not healed yet and still in a cast, still a little concussed, and there were the psychic shocks she had been through still resonating around her head.

Insofar as they were allowed to care about anything, Mission was their touchstone, and she had just convinced them looking after her was theirs. That had been a mistake. She tried to project at them, making it a contest between their stubbornness and her ability to hold herself together.


Hardly fair. They were a picked elite, she was bone- tired and drowning in a sea of doubt and confusion. He was still looking skeptically at her when her vision faded to grey, and the stormtrooper sargeant felt a fog lift inside his head.

He put two and two together, and came up with three stun bolts. Bad arithmetic, but good tactics.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Kartr_Kana »

He put two and two together, and came up with three stun bolts. Bad arithmetic, but good tactics.
Nice I laughed pretty hard at that.
The chapter doesn't actually sound to bad to me except that I had a little trouble unmixing Rafaela and Alrika right here
Rafaella, realising that she had worked it out and that the time for guile was over, said 'We stand a better chance without the killer clown squad.'
Because right before that it had been Alrika talking. Other then that it was good IMO.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Crazedwraith »

That's pretty good. More interesting that the trial stuff. Which I'm finding slightly long winded I'm afraid.
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Re: Hull 721, plot arc the second

Post by Simon_Jester »

Me, I like the trial stuff because:
1) I like Pellor Aldrem and want him to survive,
2) It shows Lennart having to deal with an arena where he doesn't hold all the cards, because he's operating under heavily constraints thanks to politics and superior officers.

Also, what's not to like about this most recent section? Events seem fairly plausible: very predictable and mediocre-competent rebel cell gets mousetrapped by our resident Kalonian Chiss supergenius. All in a day's work for the fellow, no?

Darn it, ECR, now you've got me picturing Thrawn saying "Your report is neither complete nor conclusive." Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to get rid of that image?
Last edited by Simon_Jester on 2010-03-09 01:59pm, edited 1 time in total.
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