Okay - I'm not sure I follow this part of the argument here - Starfleet has no reason to not judge an entire species on generalities and assign them roles based on the common stereotypes generated from the member of a species they encountered who was, when encountered, operating as a loner despite being from a generally gregarious and social people?
Starfleet Command is regularly incompetent, full of bureaucrats with projects, bluegill conspiracies, Admiral Leyton's coup, Admiral Satie, Admiral Janeway and whatever blithering incompetent promoted her, whatever flaming imbecile gave Archer a starship, Admiral Cartwright's plan to start a war with the Klingon Empire, the imbeciles who sent Captain Kirk with a broken ship into a hostage situation in ST 5, whoever the hell tried to rope Kirk into a desk job, whoever looked at Tom Paris and his omnicompetence and didn't immediately offer him a job as High Supreme Kickass Admiral Guy, and the numbskull who gave Solok a ship.
There is no reason to believe that this organization, which literally sends a person hours out of the Academy into a combat situation with the Borg Collective and promotes this person to Admiral in a year, is going to behave intelligently in the Delta Rising situation.
They're shortsighted bureaucrats who felt that Janeway was better fleet command material than Picard. Of COURSE they're going to take one look at Neelix (and, let's be fair, the about 3 other Talaxians we saw who were basically all the same way except worse) and say "not on your life are we hiring one of those".
And I am beyond tired of this topic, so if you want to hear more shoot me a PM.
If you are going to continue to make derogatory comparisons of Talaxians to animals, please pick a animal that is demonstrably less cute. Such as the warthog or the star-nosed mole.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I don't think we're going to come to any meeting of minds on this one....
In my head-canon, anyway: if the Talaxians as a species were all bumbling incompetents, they'd be extinct. Since they're not extinct, it follows that they can't all be bumbling incompetents.
(Actually - in the Voyager canon, Starfleet has picked up a fair bit of information about the Talaxians, and a lot of it suggests that no, they're not all bumbling incompetents. They were a minor but significant power in their corner of the Delta Quadrant; they had a highly organized military - Neelix, IIRC, was a draft dodger - which fought the Haakonian Order to a standstill until the Haakonians resorted to weapons of mass destruction; they're warp-capable, with a widespread network of traders and explorers. So, potentially, useful allies, in an area of space where Starfleet needs allies badly.)
Similarly, Starfleet couldn't function if it was run completely by incompetents. Since it continues to exist and function, it follows that etc., etc.
With regard to Ronnie Grau... I've always tried to be careful to write her as being actually pretty good at her job, to the extent that her eccentricities are allowed for. In a military which can cope with Tellarites always arguing and Tamarians talking exclusively in literary allusions, Ronnie's occasional outbursts of rambling don't count for too much. (Deliberate example of this, way back in my "Fallout" story, during the attack on Aznetkur - Ronnie is shown (a) following her boss's overall plan, (b) discovering a factor that her boss didn't know about, (c) modifying the plan accordingly, and (d) making sure her boss knew what she'd done and why she'd done it. In short, acting like an intelligent subordinate with some scope for individual initiative.)
Pexlini and Ronnie do have some things in common - I'm hoping that the differences in their personalities will emerge, more, as we see more of Pex. They are both what I think of as "forward momentum" people - in Ronnie's case, it's because keeping furiously active keeps her mind off what's been a pretty miserable life on the whole (you may notice that, in the odd moments of introspection I have allowed her, she gets - understandably - pretty gloomy).
I'm not going to talk about Pexlini's underlying personality or motives here because, well, spoilers. She is, I'm afraid, one of those people who get cheerful and talkative when they're nervous... and those people can get a bit wearing, I know. (Then again, while Ronnie is fun to write, I bet she'd be hell to live with for any length of time.)
If you are going to continue to make derogatory comparisons of Talaxians to animals, please pick a animal that is demonstrably less cute. Such as the warthog or the star-nosed mole.
You're right. That was completely unfair of me.
Heck, even warthogs and star-nosed moles are cuter than Talaxians. Even hagfish are cuter than Talaxians.
To the hedgehogs of the world: I apologize for associating you with Neelix and the Talaxians.
I don't think we're going to come to any meeting of minds on this one....
In my head-canon, anyway: if the Talaxians as a species were all bumbling incompetents, they'd be extinct. Since they're not extinct, it follows that they can't all be bumbling incompetents.
(Actually - in the Voyager canon, Starfleet has picked up a fair bit of information about the Talaxians, and a lot of it suggests that no, they're not all bumbling incompetents. They were a minor but significant power in their corner of the Delta Quadrant; they had a highly organized military - Neelix, IIRC, was a draft dodger - which fought the Haakonian Order to a standstill until the Haakonians resorted to weapons of mass destruction; they're warp-capable, with a widespread network of traders and explorers. So, potentially, useful allies, in an area of space where Starfleet needs allies badly.)
Similarly, Starfleet couldn't function if it was run completely by incompetents. Since it continues to exist and function, it follows that etc., etc.
With regard to Ronnie Grau... I've always tried to be careful to write her as being actually pretty good at her job, to the extent that her eccentricities are allowed for. In a military which can cope with Tellarites always arguing and Tamarians talking exclusively in literary allusions, Ronnie's occasional outbursts of rambling don't count for too much. (Deliberate example of this, way back in my "Fallout" story, during the attack on Aznetkur - Ronnie is shown (a) following her boss's overall plan, (b) discovering a factor that her boss didn't know about, (c) modifying the plan accordingly, and (d) making sure her boss knew what she'd done and why she'd done it. In short, acting like an intelligent subordinate with some scope for individual initiative.)
Pexlini and Ronnie do have some things in common - I'm hoping that the differences in their personalities will emerge, more, as we see more of Pex. They are both what I think of as "forward momentum" people - in Ronnie's case, it's because keeping furiously active keeps her mind off what's been a pretty miserable life on the whole (you may notice that, in the odd moments of introspection I have allowed her, she gets - understandably - pretty gloomy).
I'm not going to talk about Pexlini's underlying personality or motives here because, well, spoilers. She is, I'm afraid, one of those people who get cheerful and talkative when they're nervous... and those people can get a bit wearing, I know. (Then again, while Ronnie is fun to write, I bet she'd be hell to live with for any length of time.)
Here's the problem, though. You're approaching this like the canon is GOOD science fiction.
Voyager, seasons 1, 2, and 7 of TNG, and TBH season 1 of DS9, as well as seasons 1-3 of ENT, are demonstrably NOT good science fiction. Oh, there are moments, but let's face it, VOY, and early VOY in particular, is just plain bad. Season 1 of TNG, frankly, sucked. Season 2 of TNG should never have happened. Season 7 had "Sub Rosa", for which I will never forgive it. ENT, honestly, was one big pile of steaming stinker.
You're trying to claim that a species that has proven themselves to be lazy idiots who are at best barely better than the Kazon time and time again without fail is somehow realistically capable of being a major power.
Now, that's not to say that I dislike "Jetrel" in particular. It had its issues, sure, but it was a lot better than the rest of its season. The only problem is, due to Voyager's near-complete lack of continuity, it frankly made no sense when compared to later views of Talaxians.
Fundamentally, however, my big problem isn't with the species or other in-universe things that I've mentioned (although those DO bother me a bit). My big problem is that the character reads in a way that annoys me deeply. Ronnie was very intelligent and competent with a side of eccentricity. The subject of my ire is immature and barely competent with a side of hypocrisy and succeeding through luck alone.
I hope that this explains my problem well, because I am so far beyond tired of this the only thing keeping me going is my urge to debate anything and everything (it's a form of SIWOTI syndrome). Please understand that I do respect and admire you as a writer (and jonsills, who I've disagreed with the most here, as well), and I've been a big fan since Heresy began. I just don't want you to pull a Rowling and collapse after your best work.
Pexlini and Ronnie do have some things in common - I'm hoping that the differences in their personalities will emerge, more, as we see more of Pex. They are both what I think of as "forward momentum" people - in Ronnie's case, it's because keeping furiously active keeps her mind off what's been a pretty miserable life on the whole (you may notice that, in the odd moments of introspection I have allowed her, she gets - understandably - pretty gloomy).
I'm not going to talk about Pexlini's underlying personality or motives here because, well, spoilers. She is, I'm afraid, one of those people who get cheerful and talkative when they're nervous... and those people can get a bit wearing, I know. (Then again, while Ronnie is fun to write, I bet she'd be hell to live with for any length of time.)
Just as a story comment, something that made Ronnie stand out more as the 'slightly scatter-brained, very dangerous comedy relief and muscle' way back in Fallout was her final POV segment where another voice than the Borg, one that she's afraid is hers chides her for all the deaths she's papering over.
Pex has not had time for that sort of reflection, but she is the 'if falls off a cliff, start flapping' kind of character, so I can understand how people see similarities to Ronnie. Though Ronnie seems far more, socially speaking, a bulldozer.
Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
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My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
Just as a story comment, something that made Ronnie stand out more as the 'slightly scatter-brained, very dangerous comedy relief and muscle' way back in Fallout was her final POV segment where another voice than the Borg, one that she's afraid is hers chides her for all the deaths she's papering over.
Pex has not had time for that sort of reflection, but she is the 'if falls off a cliff, start flapping' kind of character, so I can understand how people see similarities to Ronnie. Though Ronnie seems far more, socially speaking, a bulldozer.
Yeah, as I've said, Ronnie is eccentric, sure, but clearly a force of nature with a high level of competence. It's an unusual character type for a flag officer, but it works, if for no reason other than Ronnie's just so damn good at what she does. (C.F. basically all of Fallout and Heresy, and the space chess scenes in Claws, just to name my favorite Ronnie bits) And to be fair, Ronnie's rambling was actually pretty interesting. I learn things from Ronnie. I don't learn things from the Talaxian.
And I've already explained why the Talaxian falls flat.
Yeah, as I've said, Ronnie is eccentric, sure, but clearly a force of nature with a high level of competence. It's an unusual character type for a flag officer, but it works, if for no reason other than Ronnie's just so damn good at what she does. (C.F. basically all of Fallout and Heresy, and the space chess scenes in Claws, just to name my favorite Ronnie bits) And to be fair, Ronnie's rambling was actually pretty interesting. I learn things from Ronnie. I don't learn things from the Talaxian.
And I've already explained why the Talaxian falls flat.
Well, I don't particularly dislike Pexlini, but I think I can understand what you're trying to say.
I guess we might see if there's an improvement in that area later on. For the moment, though, I'll just stick with my eternal demand for more.
Infinite possibilities have implications that could not be completely understood if you turned this entire universe into a giant supercomputer.
I like Pex a lot, and for plenty of reasons. I generally like people who don't feel a need to stick with some imaginary rulebook in most given situations, social and professional included. To me I see Pex as someone who didn't fit the usual mould, which works to your advantage if people are snobby enough to make an assumption about you, rulebooks...... (happens a lot, my going theory is its something people do as a way of imposing their will on others, possibly subconsciously, one of my many ongoing mental exercises).
I look forward to seeing where this all ultimately leads.
Ten soldiers wisely led will beat a hundred without a head. - Euripides
I no longer do any Bug Hunting work for Cryptic. I may resume if a serious attempt to fix the game is made.
Shevet is a good SF writer. Why limit his/her writing ability to the level of the wretches toiling in the ditches of VOY, just because we're working from a weak premise? I prefer when someone tries to use reason to patch the holes, rather than just keeping them in play.
(I did particularly like the line about Starfleet's ideas about an entire quarter of the Galaxy being based on "what Voyager saw out the window on their way past".)
Shevet is a good SF writer. Why limit his/her writing ability to the level of the wretches toiling in the ditches of VOY, just because we're working from a weak premise? I prefer when someone tries to use reason to patch the holes, rather than just keeping them in play.
(I did particularly like the line about Starfleet's ideas about an entire quarter of the Galaxy being based on "what Voyager saw out the window on their way past".)
This is a complicated subject, and something that I AM willing to discuss.
My problem is primarily that shevet's got a chance to write a story that fixes, Take Thats, and generally shows it to Voyager, and xe's writing an incredibly annoying Talaxian who fits every stereotype except possibly the overweight bit, and this character, despite being internally unrealistic and annoying for reasons I've already laid out, is taking up valuable space that could be used for the more important and interesting folks, like Rrueo and M'eioi (M'eioi's terrible choice of ship notwithstanding, I'm willing to allow that the game stats are frankly dumb given that this is supposed to be Experimental Engineering's baby. Now, the Kazon raider, on the other hand...).
Essentially, I'm seeing (to rip off a line marcusdkane used once) Babe Ruth get up to the plate, swing with all of his might, and hit a bunt that turns into a tag out at first base.
Shevet is a good SF writer. Why limit his/her writing ability to the level of the wretches toiling in the ditches of VOY, just because we're working from a weak premise? I prefer when someone tries to use reason to patch the holes, rather than just keeping them in play.
(I did particularly like the line about Starfleet's ideas about an entire quarter of the Galaxy being based on "what Voyager saw out the window on their way past".)
I liked that line as well :P
Not often I agree with you on anything (honestly, practically never) but Voyager I found was a weak 'story', and I feel awkward even referring to it as such. The one thing that always bugged me about ST in general was the lack of story, of course it was very episodic. Of course that's where the agreement is, why limit someone for the mistakes of others?
I will always say, for that reason, Enterprise will always be my favourite as everything up to the end felt like a true story, the ending I just block out of my mind. DS-9 gets my second vote for having a story of sorts happening, of course the Dominion War arc was brilliant for being a story.
I do write for my own enjoyment, and while I find putting pen to paper hard work (or in this case keys to screen), I started by doing fanfic stuff for SW which I loved, even though I didn't make much effort to follow the canon when it didn't suit me. I write on my own little universe now, and not limiting the rulebook is certainly making the writing more enjoyable for me at least.
I suppose what I'm trying to get at is that I found a way of writing that works for me, and while I'm sure others won't have the same process, everyone has to find a style and a story that works for them, otherwise where would the joy in the activity be?
Ten soldiers wisely led will beat a hundred without a head. - Euripides
I no longer do any Bug Hunting work for Cryptic. I may resume if a serious attempt to fix the game is made.
Worffan, I understand that you have objections to Pex. That's fine if you dont like the character. But posting it yet again every time shevet posts from Pex's POV is kind of causing the thread to gain an altogether undesirable level of toxicity. I'm not trying to be rude. but please stop. Some of us just want to read the story.
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
The man in the chair was Kadirian, and he was shackled to it, his arms chained behind his back, his feet in fetters. He was staring in utmost horror at an identical chair, in which another man was confined. A short while ago, that man had been identical, too. Now, he was so no longer.
"The holo-simulation is really exceptionally detailed," Tuarak purred, "and that, of course, affords us all sorts of possibilities." He stalked over to the second man. "As a basis, of course, we used the advanced stages of the Vidiian Phage, but that was only the start of our simulations. We added Mendaran spotted plague, Shukalian leprosy, and an interesting one from the Alpha Quadrant, a thing called yaws. The results - well, you may see for yourself." He smiled. "Now, you may ask, after the loss of his vocal tract and most of his hands, was there any point in our continuing the interrogation? And the answer is yes, for two reasons. Firstly, it still provided data which my colleague here -" he nodded towards Nessick, who was bent over the controls for the holo-projector, in the corner of the laboratory "- is using for his researches. Secondly, and much more importantly, it entertained me. I find interrogations very tedious - all this refusal to answer questions, all this repeating of 'I don't know', it is really so dull - so I positively need my little indulgences, now and again."
He crossed the room with three quick strides, to stand by the unharmed Kadirian. "I think, my poor friend, they made you too well. Oh, yes, your survey missions, they demand ingenuity, they demand flexibility, they require the use of self-aware holograms such as you. But, to give your simulation the ability to feel so much pain, to be corrupted to such an extent -" He shook his head in mock sorrow. "I inflict the pain, but your creators gave you the capacity to feel it. So who is the worse monster? Me, or them?" He bent down to whisper in the hologram's ear, "The correct answer, of course, is me."
He straightened up. "You should feel proud, you know. You endured -" he waved a hand at the disfigured shape in the other chair "- all of that. You held out, you did not talk. Such courage, such fortitude, I cannot help but salute it. - Of course, it means that my friend and I must be even more creative this time around. And if you still persist in obdurate silence, we will simply restore you from the backups and start again. Until you talk, or some version of you talks. Or until my colleague obtains enough data to decompile and deconstruct your holo-matrix, and thus obtain access to everything you know. I imagine that will be inexpressibly painful for you, like being dissected from within." He bent down and grinned into the captive's face. "You will let me know how much it hurts, won't you?"
The hologram's eyes were wide open, bulging with fear. Finally, he found his voice. "What do you want?" he whispered.
"And so, it begins," said Tuarak. "Every time, it starts the same way, with an apparent effort at intelligent cooperation. You are so predictable. I suppose it is the result of your programming." He rose to his full height and glowered down. "What did you do to the Kobali?"
The hologram struggled against his bonds. "We spoke with them! We discussed the biome of the colony world!"
"Try again," Tuarak snarled. "After you spoke to them, they died. Does that happen with everyone you speak to?"
"They died?"
Tuarak sighed. "Yes, for - what is it, the fifth time now? - they died. Five times. The four previous versions of you have exhausted my patience, but not my ingenuity."
"Ah." Nessick spoke up, unexpectedly, from the projector controls. "That is interesting. You appear to have triggered a new decision tree in its subroutines."
"Oh," said Tuarak, "how fascinating, I am gratified."
"You should be. You should be. It means that the hologram is motivated to explore new thought processes, in response to your questions," the Octanti scientist said.
"You mean, I may get some new answers?" Tuarak smiled. "Well, then, that is good news. So, then," he said, turning back to the hologram. "My friend says you are racking your imaginary brains, trying to come up with answers for me. Let me hear them."
"I -" The hologram swallowed. "If the Kobali were - were killed - it would have been a policy decision - not something for us - the organics would have made that decision, you should question them -"
"We did," said Tuarak. "They proved intransigent. Intransigent and fragile, an unhappy combination. Try again."
"I don't know!" the hologram wailed.
"And here we go again," said Tuarak. "Let me try to phrase things in words of few syllables. You spoke with the Kobali. The Kobali died. Does this happen with everyone? Answer, yes or no."
"No. No, of course not, we -"
"No. Very well. What was different about the Kobali?"
"Only - only that they were Kobali, and not Nafsadians, or Talaxians, or Kezzkreen, or -"
"Oh, do not give me a complete list," said Tuarak. "One or other of us would not survive to the end of it, believe me. Were there any variations in your procedures? Did you do anything differently?"
"Ah," said Nessick again. "Another spike in the data analysis subroutine activity. You have touched another nerve."
"Not literally," said Tuarak, "not yet. - So. You did something differently. What was it?"
"We, ah, we used a secondary actualizer."
"A what?"
"On the probe. We used a secondary actualizer to increase our range and physical persistence. It is a new device, we got it from our Hazari escort. It amplifies the holo-matrix - I do not know if you have the technical background to follow the details -"
"I do," said Nessick. "Intriguing. We must talk about this, from a purely scientific and theoretical point of view."
"Yes, you must," said Tuarak, "any time I am at least a parsec away. This secondary actualizer, where is it now?"
"It was - we integrated one with the probe's circuitry, and also with the ship's projector system -"
"Interesting, interesting," said Nessick. "Tuarak, did you not say that the security holograms were resistant to the EMP grenades you used?"
"They - they were distorted, incapacitated, but not destroyed by the first one I threw, certainly," said Tuarak. "I ascribed that to exaggeration on the part of the Hierarchy salesperson who instructed me on their use - Are you suggesting that the security holos were reinforced by this - gadget?"
"A secondary actualizer. Something that makes holograms more real. Intriguing, intriguing. Where are your records of this device?" Nessick asked. "I do not recall seeing anything in the computer logs we downloaded."
"We, ah." Somehow, the hologram looked embarrassed. "We did not discuss it with - with the organic crew. The Hazari approached us. It affected us primarily, after all -"
"I think I understand," said Nessick. He touched the controls of the holo-projector, and the hologram froze into sudden immobility.
"I put it on pause," said Nessick. "So that you and I can discuss, without interruption... and we can unfreeze it as we go, if we need any more questions answered."
"I think we need many more questions answered," snapped Tuarak. "How could this device affect the Kobali colonists, for instance?"
"Ah," said Nessick, "there, I have already formulated a hypothesis. Yes. But we will need the device itself to confirm my suspicions.... It was an error, I am afraid, to destroy the Kadirian ship after you had taken the prisoners and the downloads."
"I did not want to leave forensic traces for the busybodies of the Benthans or the Alphans to find," said Tuarak. "Besides, Kadirian technology is not worth keeping."
"Usually, no, I concur. But in this case.... We need a copy of this secondary actualizer."
"Well, that should be easy enough to obtain. My sensor log will identify the Hazari escort, I will approach them, and I will - negotiate."
"As you say, as you say. I would advise peaceful negotiations, to begin with. The device might be destroyed in crossfire, otherwise -" Nessick glanced to one side, and stopped speaking. He walked to the wall of the laboratory, peered through the small circle of a viewport.
"There one goes again," he said in peevish, complaining tones. "I wish you had cleaned them up properly."
Tuarak crossed the laboratory floor to stand by the Octanti, to look out on the contorted, frozen form of a Kadirian, drifting in the vacuum beyond. He snorted. "If only we had known that those organic ones had no clue," he said. "It would have saved time."
"They are making my station look untidy," Nessick grumbled.
"Oh, very well, I will detail some defaulters to clear them away and incinerate them," said Tuarak. "While we make my ship ready - for the hunt."
This is why you're the Babe Ruth of the forum writers.
Tuarak's psychosis is incredible. He's so sickeningly evil I can't help but be entranced. Mur was a complete monster and enjoyed it, but this guy likes it so much he wants to be more evil.
Frankly, I'm excited to see exactly how many pieces Rrueo cuts him into with her talons.
Just wanted to say by way of encouragement, I like Pexlini myself. She's funny, and as a Firefly Fleet member the general scruffiness makes me feel at home. Also the Pakled is great. (I've seen the idea that the Pakleds' lack of English makes them seem stupider than they are in a few different places lately. It works well.)
Pexlini makes perfect sense if you take it that she does know what she's doing - and myself, I didn't have any problem believing that she knew what she was doing. (It may make a difference that I haven't actually seen Voyager myself, so I was taking her at face value without expecting her to be like this Neelix.) Why should every competent character have to be a) a grim, square-jawed hyper-military type or b) a ruthless, icy-cool black-ops guy? I get so TIRED of those. People are people. What's unlikely about a competent captain who larks about and talks nineteen to the dozen? Shevet, don't ever get less original!
As for the dice game: some people were suggesting that they should have sent in a Section 31 agent instead who "would have done the job properly". But a Section 31 agent, armed with that kind of inside information, would undoubtedly have bet the Bajoran if that was what it took - that's the kind of thing Section 31 was invented for. And some of you would have been admiring his steely nerve. What's different about Pexlini? Only that you're assuming she can't be trusted to make a call like that, whereas the S31 b*****d can because he's a b*****d.
Actually, in one way I have to say she is incompetent, though. I'm a science student and wouldn't know a tactic from a hole in the ground, but - blowing an unknown but evidently effective biowarfare agent all over the place, beaming back to your ship, then running straight onto the bridge without so much as changing your clothes? Smack-with-a-wet-fish time, Pex. :cool:
I would like to clarify that with the exception of the character I've complained about, I am really enjoying the story so far.
Tuarak is one of the greatest villains I've ever read, and that includes Steelheart, Ruin, and Gradget Dilaf.
Rrueo is the Toph Beifong of the cast, and Oschmann is beyond excellent. Rrueo and company could be the only crew here and be doing everything by themselves and it'd still be a good story.
M'eioi, while not the kind of commanding officer I would promote to an admiralty position or want in charge of me, is an excellent character whose interactions with Rrueo are extremely fun to read.
If it weren't for Heresy, Fallout, Claws, and the story that incredibly awesome story sander233 wrote me as a birthday present, this would likely be my favorite story on the forums.
Man, the Vaadwaur really relish their work, whatever it is, while they're doing it, don't they?
Shevet, you have also managed to more or less answer a question I hadn't considered but is a fascinating one: how do your provide psychological and physiological stressors to a computer program?
I feel a little bad for the holos. Usually it takes years of belonging to a cult to dig up dark horrors from the beyond. They've done it by accident
The question of how (presumably) protomatter interacted, or if it was involved directly at all, with the Kobali remains, or if it was some tremendous coincidence.
Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
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My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
He crossed the room with three quick strides, to stand by the unharmed Kadirian. "I think, my poor friend, they made you too well. Oh, yes, your survey missions, they demand ingenuity, they demand flexibility, they require the use of self-aware holograms such as you. But, to give your simulation the ability to feel so much pain, to be corrupted to such an extent -" He shook his head in mock sorrow. "I inflict the pain, but your creators gave you the capacity to feel it. So who is the worse monster? Me, or them?" He bent down to whisper in the hologram's ear, "The correct answer, of course, is me."
Ohhhh man. This guy is a million different levels of evil insanity. Shevet, have you ever considered that you might be too good at this? (Totally joking, Tuarak is fking awesome.)
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
The blue-grey face with the rat-trap mouth glares at me from the main viewer. "You do not have permission," the Turei commander says.
"Neither, presumably, did the Vaadwaur ship we are pursuing," I point out. "Your cooperation would... help us to solve a crime, perhaps prevent more deaths."
"Perhaps." The rigid features of the Turei are not well designed for sneering, but this one manages it nonetheless. "The Underspace is the territory and prerogative of the Turei people. Your Alliance's provisional treaties accept this. If you choose to disregard those, to take what you wish - as the Vaadwaur do - then you must accept the consequences of that action."
"The Delta Alliance respects your people's rights, of course," I say. The temptation to remove this obstacle with a blast from my disruptors is strong, though. "If you withhold your permission, then we cannot pursue this Vaadwaur ship.... Rrueo submits to you, though, that whatever the Vaadwaur are doing, it is important to stop them."
"We will attend to that matter," says the Turei. "Since you have no reason to remain in this region of space any longer, I expect you to depart." And he closes the channel. I sit back, and do not repress a growl.
"We could take them -" K'Rokok begins.
"But it would be a major breach of our diplomatic agreements," I say, "and we have orders to respect those. Rrueo has no desire to create an interstellar incident... and Rrueo would prefer to keep her head on her shoulders, not on Chancellor J'mpok's trophy wall. We will depart, as this functionary instructs us. Do we have a probable locus for the exit from this underspace tunnel?"
"Four of them," says Oschmann in leaden tones. The Vaadwaur originally controlled the subspace corridors known as the Underspace, and it was only natural that one of their ships should head for such a bolthole. Unfortunately, it drew the attention of the current - owners - of the Underspace, and the Turei are very much inclined to stand on their rights. I contemplate the Turei cruiser hanging in space between me and the insubstantial gateway, and I itch with the urge to destroy it. But the Chancellor is somewhat brusque with officers who hinder his diplomatic efforts.... "Time to cover them all, via normal space?"
"At least ten days," says Oschmann. Her tones stay glum. The chance, even, of reacquiring the Vaadwaur ship's warp contrail is slim enough... but it is our only lead to date, and we must follow it.
"Plot a course to the nearest one, and proceed at maximum warp," I order. "A swift departure will no doubt please our ally there.... And prepare a subspace radio message for the USS Timor; tell them to expect a delay in our rendezvous and explain why. Use secure protocols, as normal - transmit in Code Seven along Delta Command's encrypted channels."
---
Time passes. Time passes, and I fret. We are active creatures, we Ferasans, and while we can lie patiently in wait for our prey, the lengthy boredom of a search or a stern chase sits ill with us.
Realistically, too, I suspect the search will be fruitless. Space is vast, the Vaadwaur ships travel fast, and our sensor data is incomplete in any event. Things are easier in the Alpha Quadrant, where there are co-operating authorities who log the movements of spacecraft within their notional boundaries. The late Captain Klur, when he launched his ill-advised attack on Bercera IV, spent much time and effort hiding his warp contrail in emission nebulae and stellar remnants - not to any good effect. But, here, there are no networks of sensor buoys, no sector-spanning traffic control, just the occasional local authority who may, or may not, be cooperative.
So, we reach the probable exit from the Underspace tunnel, and we scan, and we find nothing... and we move to the next probable exit, and we repeat the process, and I am practically living in my ready room, catching snatches of sleep at all hours of day and night....
It is after I awaken from one such nap that Oschmann brings a message from the Timor. Her tone, both of voice and of mind, is carefully neutral as she says, "The Timor's commander says that - I quote, sir - 'I have received your message and wish to meet with you soon to discuss matters at the location previously agreed'. That is all, sir."
I frown. "That is - odd. Unless that genetic reject has somehow become allergic to specifics. Wait. Was the message sent through an unsecured link, somehow?"
"It came through Delta Command's encrypted network as normal, sir."
"What game is the Caitian playing, that she must express herself so coyly?" I shake my head. "Well, we will no doubt find out in due time. Status?"
"Just approaching the third probable exit locus, sir, and about to drop out of warp." I grunt, and stalk out of the ready room, to take my seat in the command chair just as Brathana shivers back into normal space.
"Commencing detailed sensor sweep," Toriash rumbles from his post at the main science console. There is a trace of fatigue in his voice - well, this has been a weary time for us all. "Scanning for warp signatures and characteristic Underspace disturbances... I am not detecting either...."
"Our maps of the Underspace may well be inaccurate," mutters Oschmann.
"Continuing spherical sweep," says Toriash. Brathana's sensors will interrogate every cubic millimetre of the space around us, before I give up and move on. "Wait. Sensor response -" His head turns suddenly towards me. "Extreme range, but positive. Ships, incoming on an approach vector."
"Yellow alert. Raise shields and go to defensive posture," I order. Better safe than sorry, in this part of space. I toy with the idea of cloaking, but... no. If the ships are coming for us, they know we are here, and too many Delta species use wide-area barrages for me to be comfortable without shields.
"Scanning energy signatures," says Toriash. "Type identification... confirmed. Vaadwaur. One assault cruiser and three light assault vessels."
"Red alert."
Lights flash; the tactical display comes to life, illustrating trajectories, weapon ranges, targeting envelopes.... The Vaadwaur task force is substantial enough to worry me. I have seen how those ships can fight.
"Incoming hail," Oschmann reports.
"On screen."
The Vaadwaur commander views me with hard and glittering eyes; his expression is feral. "I gather you are looking for a Vaadwaur vessel," he says, without preamble. "Well. Now that you have found one, what will you do?"
I turn my head to one side, speaking to Toriash. "Do we have any matches for the warp signature we were following?"
"Negative," Toriash answers.
I turn back to the viewscreen. "It seems," I say, projecting a confidence that I do not feel at all, "that you are not the Vaadwaur that Rrueo is looking for. So, you are free to depart. Go about your business."
"Today," says the Vaadwaur, "my business is to administer a lesson to certain arrogant Alphans -" He stops, and looks offscreen in startlement.
"Fresh sensor contacts," Toriash announces. "Inbound on vector seven niner mark six."
Vaadwaur reinforcements? But my opponent is as surprised as I am -
"Incoming hail, sir," says Oschmann.
I sigh. "On screen."
The screen splits. On one side, the Vaadwaur commander, his sharp-featured face twisting into a snarl of fury; on the other, a bulky figure in black armour, eyes gleaming through the open visor of a helmet -
"Prey. I am Alpha Gronaj. These are my hunting grounds, and I trust you will be worthy quarry. The hunt begins."
I cut the channels with an irritated flick of my paw. The screen goes blank.
"Mother told me there'd be days like this," Oschmann mutters.
---
The Hirogen battle group consists of an Apex battleship with three frigate consorts. The hunters' vessels are boring straight towards us, fast. The Vaadwaur ships, quick and agile despite their great age, are shifting position - and their intentions are only too apparent. They are aiming to keep us between them and the oncoming Hirogen. Their intention, evidently, is to have the Brathana destroyed in crossfire.
I do not propose to cooperate with this plan. But I am now outnumbered eight to one, and there is no prospect of making common cause with one attacker against the other. Both Vaadwaur and Hirogen can be trusted only to try to kill us.
"Hard about. Target the Apex." Brathana has a number of interesting new features, and they are about to get their first proper test. "Evasive, vector niner eight by two." A predictable effort to squeeze out from between the two opposing forces. Predictable, therefore easily countered, therefore - hopefully - they will not anticipate the next move.
I watch the sensor repeaters, waiting for the telltale spikes of targeting pings from the Vaadwaur torpedo launchers. The Hirogen are closing fast, their tetryon beams already tracing blue lines through the night -
"Turn for the Apex now. Intercept course. Target forward weapons and fire."
Slightly less predictable, I hope. Warning lights flash on my console. The beam weapons from both sets of enemies are beginning to bite into my shields - and those Hirogen tetryon beams bite hard at shields. Moreover, we are turning into that barrage, and if I misjudge matters, the Hirogen will strip our shields to nothing just in time for the Vaadwaur to unleash a polaron barrage against us.
So, my choices are simple. Judge correctly, or die. Simple. But not easy.
The Hirogen battleship looms large in my viewer. The Vaadwaur targeting pings are coming faster, more intense. Brathana shudders as a tetryon beam rakes her port shield. More impacts on the rear shield - pulses of Vaadwaur polaron weapons. Structural integrity dips a percentage point or two; my hull is starting to suffer stress.
And the Vaadwaur are launching torpedoes....
"Hargh'peng and kinetic magnet, on the Apex, now! Steer two niner seven by two one!"
The Hargh'peng torpedo is one of the KDF's most powerful conventional weapons - but there is nothing conventional about the kinetic magnet; it is a completely inaccurate name for an intelligence warfare package that confuses IFF and targeting, identifying its target as the nearest and most tempting one for any missiles in the vicinity. And the Vaadwaur do so love their tricobalt torpedoes -
Brathana twists aside and away, disruptor arrays spitting green light at her attackers - and the cargo of death unleashed by the Vaadwaur, intended for us, slams home instead into the Hirogen battleship. Silhouetted by explosions, wreathed in the flares from its failing shields, the Apex rocks and vents air and flames from a dozen hull breaches. The lurid violet glare of the Hargh'peng radiation is almost lost in the dazzle. Perhaps Gronaj's mother warned him there would be days like this, too.
But the Apex is by no means out of the fight yet. More lines of light shoot from it, spreading out, resolving themselves suddenly into menacing shapes - photonic warships, combat holograms which channel the mother ship's warp core to power weapons arrays of their own. The Hirogens' firepower is, briefly, multiplied considerably, and that will tell -
Another misnomer; the intelligence subroutines identify the Hirogen weapons and shields frequencies, enabling us to neutralize their beams more effectively, and use ours to greater effect. It is as though we stole part of their weapons power and used it for ourselves. Our disruptors stab through the failing shields of the Apex, savaging the hull. My own shields are still weak, though, and the impacts on my hull are a constant worrying rumble.
But we are not the only ones shooting, and one of the Vaadwaur assault vessels has moved forward of the main force - too far forward. Its polaron weapons are blazing, enough to attract attention - and the Hirogen take their chance. For a moment, the full firepower of every Hirogen ship, real and photonic, is concentrated on that one vessel - and a moment is all it takes to blast it out of existence.
"Helm." I sketch in a course on the tac display. "This."
The death of one of their ships is enough to provoke the Vaadwaur into a fury of vengeance. Space seethes and boils with blast after blast from their polaron artillery. Brathana rocks and judders, and there is the flash-bang of a transient EM surge from a console on the bridge - and another, and another. My shields are stripped to nothing now by the Hirogen assault, and the damage control board shows the barrage telling on my ship -
"Shields down! Hull breaches decks four through six! Fire in maintenance bay two!" K'Rokok is reeling off the damage like a machine himself. But the drives are still working, and the ship swings around on the course I set, keeping the blazing ruin of the Apex battleship between us and the Vaadwaur.
My shields are already down; the Hirogen cannot last much longer; it is time. "Battle cloak now!"
Brathana shimmers into invisibility just as the Apex's warp core goes. Brilliant light shines through us, but the ship is beyond - barely beyond - the damaging radius of the explosion. The Hirogen and the Vaadwaur are trading body blows, but, with the battleship and its photonic consorts gone, it is all up for the light Seeker-class frigates. The Vaadwaur take their revenge, bloodily and methodically.
I glance around. Fire suppression has taken care of the burning consoles, but there is still a haze of smoke in the bridge's air. The damage control readouts make grim viewing. But Brathana is still functional, her weapons and drive still working... and we have a breathing space, while the Vaadwaur finish their work.
"They will track our warp signature if we leave," Oschmann says. "Sir -"
"Rrueo has no intention of leaving," I snarl. "As for their finding us, Rrueo intends that they should. Rrueo will announce her presence in no uncertain terms. Helm. Swing us around behind the assault cruiser."
We are battered, leaking air, and still outnumbered... and I hear the low mutter, sense the approval growing around the bridge. I lean forward in the command chair, and I know my eyes are smouldering in the ruddy light.
Brathana comes about. K'Rokok slams his hand on the side of his console, again and again, a pounding rhythm to which the other Klingons begin to chant, softly at first, then louder and louder. Toriash shrugs. Oschmann favours them all with a thin-lipped smile, and turns her attention back to her console.
The Hirogen are dead - the Vaadwaur take no prisoners. The fight has cost them, though, another light assault vessel, and both the cruiser and the remaining light craft have taken substantial damage. They are casting about, sensors visibly active.
"They're looking for us," Oschmann says.
I check. We are in position. "Let them find us."
We decloak at point-blank range, disruptors blazing at both ships. The light assault vessel stands no chance; it dies in a burst of blue flame. That leaves us and the cruiser. One on one - both damaged, but both determined.
A volley of polaron fire rips into us. Somehow, engineering has restored some of my fore shields; they are torn to shreds in an instant, and flames blossom along our forward hull. The Vaadwaur ship is turning, trying to present his powerful forward artillery. Brathana still has agility, though, and we cling to his rear arc, sending bolt after bolt from the disruptors, firing the Hargh'peng as fast as the tube will take it. I hardly notice the fresh explosions on the bridge, the flickering of the lights, the shuddering as my ship is pounded -
"Tractor beam." I think my face has frozen in a snarl.
Blue light reaches from my ship to grip the Vaadwaur cruiser. "Comms. Hail them."
The Vaadwaur commander's face appears once more on my screen. The expression on it is an indescribable compound of rage, grief, and sheer astonishment. Behind him, I can see his bridge in flames.
"This is an auspicious day for you," I purr. "Rrueo has questions for you, and you may, therefore, live to answer them. Power down what remains of your ship and surrender."
He answers only with a wordless snarl. He reaches for some control, out of my field of vision -
The Vaadwaur cruiser twists and turns in the tractor beam - I feel the kinetic surges as it tries to break loose, to escape. And then, suddenly, there is no more resistance. The cruiser's structural integrity fails, and its spine snaps, and the whole vessel breaks asunder.
"Repulsors! Evade!" I screech.
Still caught in the tractor beam, a huge burning chunk of the Vaadwaur's hull comes hurtling towards us. Proximity alarms scream. Oschmann hits her console, shouting a string of oaths, and the main deflector flares with overload power, and Brathana twists aside just in time, the fragment swooping over us to streak off into the depths of space. The ship rocks and judders as smaller pieces strike the hull, a cacophony of booms and clatters sounding all around us.
"Steadying," murmurs K'Rokok, as the din fades to silence. "Reading no life signs in the wreckage, sir."
I spit with frustration. Then I bring myself back under control. "Begin repairs. Let me know the worst of the damage, and how long it will take to fix it. And prepare a casualty list. Sensors. Keep a vigilant watch."
---
Hours pass. The damage is... extensive.
It is Oschmann who brings me the final report, in my ready room. Her face is carefully blank, but her mind-tone is... troubled.
"We are fully operational," she says.
"But?" I ask.
"We've used a lot of our stock of non-replicateable spares," Oschmann says bluntly. "Right now, engineering is below establishment minimum. That wouldn't matter, normally - they're there to be used -"
"But we are a very long way from home, and resupply bases are few and far between," I finish for her. "Rrueo is aware of this. Rrueo, therefore, will try hard not to be caught unawares again."
"That - would be wise, sir."
"Rrueo knows this. Rrueo has also had time to think on other matters." I regard her through slitted eyes. "The Vaadwaur knew we were searching, knew where to find us. How?"
"It could only be through some sort of security breach, sir."
"Quite. At first, I wondered if the Caitian had been loose-lipped... but, no. That is why she was so circumspect in her message. She knew the communications channel was compromised. How did she know, and how much else does she know?"
Oschmann frowns. "If our secure comms channels have been breached -"
"Then we cannot discuss the matter on them. Rrueo knows." I sigh. "It seems a personal meeting with the Caitian... is now a matter of urgency."
The Vaadwaur cruiser twists and turns in the tractor beam - I feel the kinetic surges as it tries to break loose, to escape. And then, suddenly, there is no more resistance. The cruiser's structural integrity fails, and its spine snaps, and the whole vessel breaks asunder.
"Repulsors! Evade!" I screech.
Still caught in the tractor beam, a huge burning chunk of the Vaadwaur's hull comes hurtling towards us. Proximity alarms scream. Oschmann hits her console, shouting a string of oaths, and the main deflector flares with overload power, and Brathana twists aside just in time, the fragment swooping over us to streak off into the depths of space. The ship rocks and judders as smaller pieces strike the hull, a cacophony of booms and clatters sounding all around us.
I love this sequence. I like the way shevet can translate common in-game problems like an enemy's core breach hitting an unshielded arc to detailed descriptions of combat and ship damage.
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
To the others I add: Loved the Obi-Wan Kenobi reference.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I re-read the segment and couldn't find the Obi-Wan reference. Is it from the Clone Wars?
I turn back to the viewscreen. "It seems," I say, projecting a confidence that I do not feel at all, "that you are not the Vaadwaur that Rrueo is looking for. So, you are free to depart. Go about your business."
Unfortunately, the Force did not give Rrueo power over the weak-minded.
Comments
Starfleet Command is regularly incompetent, full of bureaucrats with projects, bluegill conspiracies, Admiral Leyton's coup, Admiral Satie, Admiral Janeway and whatever blithering incompetent promoted her, whatever flaming imbecile gave Archer a starship, Admiral Cartwright's plan to start a war with the Klingon Empire, the imbeciles who sent Captain Kirk with a broken ship into a hostage situation in ST 5, whoever the hell tried to rope Kirk into a desk job, whoever looked at Tom Paris and his omnicompetence and didn't immediately offer him a job as High Supreme Kickass Admiral Guy, and the numbskull who gave Solok a ship.
There is no reason to believe that this organization, which literally sends a person hours out of the Academy into a combat situation with the Borg Collective and promotes this person to Admiral in a year, is going to behave intelligently in the Delta Rising situation.
They're shortsighted bureaucrats who felt that Janeway was better fleet command material than Picard. Of COURSE they're going to take one look at Neelix (and, let's be fair, the about 3 other Talaxians we saw who were basically all the same way except worse) and say "not on your life are we hiring one of those".
And I am beyond tired of this topic, so if you want to hear more shoot me a PM.
Point of order.
Referring to Talaxians as "hedgehogs" as an intended slur is completely unfair.
Hedgehogs are much cuter than Talaxians.
Observe: Talaxian; hedgehog. Talaxian, hedgehog.
If you are going to continue to make derogatory comparisons of Talaxians to animals, please pick a animal that is demonstrably less cute. Such as the warthog or the star-nosed mole.
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
In my head-canon, anyway: if the Talaxians as a species were all bumbling incompetents, they'd be extinct. Since they're not extinct, it follows that they can't all be bumbling incompetents.
(Actually - in the Voyager canon, Starfleet has picked up a fair bit of information about the Talaxians, and a lot of it suggests that no, they're not all bumbling incompetents. They were a minor but significant power in their corner of the Delta Quadrant; they had a highly organized military - Neelix, IIRC, was a draft dodger - which fought the Haakonian Order to a standstill until the Haakonians resorted to weapons of mass destruction; they're warp-capable, with a widespread network of traders and explorers. So, potentially, useful allies, in an area of space where Starfleet needs allies badly.)
Similarly, Starfleet couldn't function if it was run completely by incompetents. Since it continues to exist and function, it follows that etc., etc.
With regard to Ronnie Grau... I've always tried to be careful to write her as being actually pretty good at her job, to the extent that her eccentricities are allowed for. In a military which can cope with Tellarites always arguing and Tamarians talking exclusively in literary allusions, Ronnie's occasional outbursts of rambling don't count for too much. (Deliberate example of this, way back in my "Fallout" story, during the attack on Aznetkur - Ronnie is shown (a) following her boss's overall plan, (b) discovering a factor that her boss didn't know about, (c) modifying the plan accordingly, and (d) making sure her boss knew what she'd done and why she'd done it. In short, acting like an intelligent subordinate with some scope for individual initiative.)
Pexlini and Ronnie do have some things in common - I'm hoping that the differences in their personalities will emerge, more, as we see more of Pex. They are both what I think of as "forward momentum" people - in Ronnie's case, it's because keeping furiously active keeps her mind off what's been a pretty miserable life on the whole (you may notice that, in the odd moments of introspection I have allowed her, she gets - understandably - pretty gloomy).
I'm not going to talk about Pexlini's underlying personality or motives here because, well, spoilers. She is, I'm afraid, one of those people who get cheerful and talkative when they're nervous... and those people can get a bit wearing, I know. (Then again, while Ronnie is fun to write, I bet she'd be hell to live with for any length of time.)
You're right. That was completely unfair of me.
Heck, even warthogs and star-nosed moles are cuter than Talaxians. Even hagfish are cuter than Talaxians.
To the hedgehogs of the world: I apologize for associating you with Neelix and the Talaxians.
Here's the problem, though. You're approaching this like the canon is GOOD science fiction.
Voyager, seasons 1, 2, and 7 of TNG, and TBH season 1 of DS9, as well as seasons 1-3 of ENT, are demonstrably NOT good science fiction. Oh, there are moments, but let's face it, VOY, and early VOY in particular, is just plain bad. Season 1 of TNG, frankly, sucked. Season 2 of TNG should never have happened. Season 7 had "Sub Rosa", for which I will never forgive it. ENT, honestly, was one big pile of steaming stinker.
You're trying to claim that a species that has proven themselves to be lazy idiots who are at best barely better than the Kazon time and time again without fail is somehow realistically capable of being a major power.
Now, that's not to say that I dislike "Jetrel" in particular. It had its issues, sure, but it was a lot better than the rest of its season. The only problem is, due to Voyager's near-complete lack of continuity, it frankly made no sense when compared to later views of Talaxians.
Fundamentally, however, my big problem isn't with the species or other in-universe things that I've mentioned (although those DO bother me a bit). My big problem is that the character reads in a way that annoys me deeply. Ronnie was very intelligent and competent with a side of eccentricity. The subject of my ire is immature and barely competent with a side of hypocrisy and succeeding through luck alone.
I hope that this explains my problem well, because I am so far beyond tired of this the only thing keeping me going is my urge to debate anything and everything (it's a form of SIWOTI syndrome). Please understand that I do respect and admire you as a writer (and jonsills, who I've disagreed with the most here, as well), and I've been a big fan since Heresy began. I just don't want you to pull a Rowling and collapse after your best work.
Just as a story comment, something that made Ronnie stand out more as the 'slightly scatter-brained, very dangerous comedy relief and muscle' way back in Fallout was her final POV segment where another voice than the Borg, one that she's afraid is hers chides her for all the deaths she's papering over.
Pex has not had time for that sort of reflection, but she is the 'if falls off a cliff, start flapping' kind of character, so I can understand how people see similarities to Ronnie. Though Ronnie seems far more, socially speaking, a bulldozer.
Member Access Denied Armada!
My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
Yeah, as I've said, Ronnie is eccentric, sure, but clearly a force of nature with a high level of competence. It's an unusual character type for a flag officer, but it works, if for no reason other than Ronnie's just so damn good at what she does. (C.F. basically all of Fallout and Heresy, and the space chess scenes in Claws, just to name my favorite Ronnie bits) And to be fair, Ronnie's rambling was actually pretty interesting. I learn things from Ronnie. I don't learn things from the Talaxian.
And I've already explained why the Talaxian falls flat.
I guess we might see if there's an improvement in that area later on. For the moment, though, I'll just stick with my eternal demand for more.
Infinite possibilities have implications that could not be completely understood if you turned this entire universe into a giant supercomputer.
I look forward to seeing where this all ultimately leads.
(I did particularly like the line about Starfleet's ideas about an entire quarter of the Galaxy being based on "what Voyager saw out the window on their way past".)
This is a complicated subject, and something that I AM willing to discuss.
My problem is primarily that shevet's got a chance to write a story that fixes, Take Thats, and generally shows it to Voyager, and xe's writing an incredibly annoying Talaxian who fits every stereotype except possibly the overweight bit, and this character, despite being internally unrealistic and annoying for reasons I've already laid out, is taking up valuable space that could be used for the more important and interesting folks, like Rrueo and M'eioi (M'eioi's terrible choice of ship notwithstanding, I'm willing to allow that the game stats are frankly dumb given that this is supposed to be Experimental Engineering's baby. Now, the Kazon raider, on the other hand...).
Essentially, I'm seeing (to rip off a line marcusdkane used once) Babe Ruth get up to the plate, swing with all of his might, and hit a bunt that turns into a tag out at first base.
I liked that line as well :P
Not often I agree with you on anything (honestly, practically never) but Voyager I found was a weak 'story', and I feel awkward even referring to it as such. The one thing that always bugged me about ST in general was the lack of story, of course it was very episodic. Of course that's where the agreement is, why limit someone for the mistakes of others?
I will always say, for that reason, Enterprise will always be my favourite as everything up to the end felt like a true story, the ending I just block out of my mind. DS-9 gets my second vote for having a story of sorts happening, of course the Dominion War arc was brilliant for being a story.
I do write for my own enjoyment, and while I find putting pen to paper hard work (or in this case keys to screen), I started by doing fanfic stuff for SW which I loved, even though I didn't make much effort to follow the canon when it didn't suit me. I write on my own little universe now, and not limiting the rulebook is certainly making the writing more enjoyable for me at least.
I suppose what I'm trying to get at is that I found a way of writing that works for me, and while I'm sure others won't have the same process, everyone has to find a style and a story that works for them, otherwise where would the joy in the activity be?
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
I dare you to do better.
"The holo-simulation is really exceptionally detailed," Tuarak purred, "and that, of course, affords us all sorts of possibilities." He stalked over to the second man. "As a basis, of course, we used the advanced stages of the Vidiian Phage, but that was only the start of our simulations. We added Mendaran spotted plague, Shukalian leprosy, and an interesting one from the Alpha Quadrant, a thing called yaws. The results - well, you may see for yourself." He smiled. "Now, you may ask, after the loss of his vocal tract and most of his hands, was there any point in our continuing the interrogation? And the answer is yes, for two reasons. Firstly, it still provided data which my colleague here -" he nodded towards Nessick, who was bent over the controls for the holo-projector, in the corner of the laboratory "- is using for his researches. Secondly, and much more importantly, it entertained me. I find interrogations very tedious - all this refusal to answer questions, all this repeating of 'I don't know', it is really so dull - so I positively need my little indulgences, now and again."
He crossed the room with three quick strides, to stand by the unharmed Kadirian. "I think, my poor friend, they made you too well. Oh, yes, your survey missions, they demand ingenuity, they demand flexibility, they require the use of self-aware holograms such as you. But, to give your simulation the ability to feel so much pain, to be corrupted to such an extent -" He shook his head in mock sorrow. "I inflict the pain, but your creators gave you the capacity to feel it. So who is the worse monster? Me, or them?" He bent down to whisper in the hologram's ear, "The correct answer, of course, is me."
He straightened up. "You should feel proud, you know. You endured -" he waved a hand at the disfigured shape in the other chair "- all of that. You held out, you did not talk. Such courage, such fortitude, I cannot help but salute it. - Of course, it means that my friend and I must be even more creative this time around. And if you still persist in obdurate silence, we will simply restore you from the backups and start again. Until you talk, or some version of you talks. Or until my colleague obtains enough data to decompile and deconstruct your holo-matrix, and thus obtain access to everything you know. I imagine that will be inexpressibly painful for you, like being dissected from within." He bent down and grinned into the captive's face. "You will let me know how much it hurts, won't you?"
The hologram's eyes were wide open, bulging with fear. Finally, he found his voice. "What do you want?" he whispered.
"And so, it begins," said Tuarak. "Every time, it starts the same way, with an apparent effort at intelligent cooperation. You are so predictable. I suppose it is the result of your programming." He rose to his full height and glowered down. "What did you do to the Kobali?"
The hologram struggled against his bonds. "We spoke with them! We discussed the biome of the colony world!"
"Try again," Tuarak snarled. "After you spoke to them, they died. Does that happen with everyone you speak to?"
"They died?"
Tuarak sighed. "Yes, for - what is it, the fifth time now? - they died. Five times. The four previous versions of you have exhausted my patience, but not my ingenuity."
"Ah." Nessick spoke up, unexpectedly, from the projector controls. "That is interesting. You appear to have triggered a new decision tree in its subroutines."
"Oh," said Tuarak, "how fascinating, I am gratified."
"You should be. You should be. It means that the hologram is motivated to explore new thought processes, in response to your questions," the Octanti scientist said.
"You mean, I may get some new answers?" Tuarak smiled. "Well, then, that is good news. So, then," he said, turning back to the hologram. "My friend says you are racking your imaginary brains, trying to come up with answers for me. Let me hear them."
"I -" The hologram swallowed. "If the Kobali were - were killed - it would have been a policy decision - not something for us - the organics would have made that decision, you should question them -"
"We did," said Tuarak. "They proved intransigent. Intransigent and fragile, an unhappy combination. Try again."
"I don't know!" the hologram wailed.
"And here we go again," said Tuarak. "Let me try to phrase things in words of few syllables. You spoke with the Kobali. The Kobali died. Does this happen with everyone? Answer, yes or no."
"No. No, of course not, we -"
"No. Very well. What was different about the Kobali?"
"Only - only that they were Kobali, and not Nafsadians, or Talaxians, or Kezzkreen, or -"
"Oh, do not give me a complete list," said Tuarak. "One or other of us would not survive to the end of it, believe me. Were there any variations in your procedures? Did you do anything differently?"
"Ah," said Nessick again. "Another spike in the data analysis subroutine activity. You have touched another nerve."
"Not literally," said Tuarak, "not yet. - So. You did something differently. What was it?"
"We, ah, we used a secondary actualizer."
"A what?"
"On the probe. We used a secondary actualizer to increase our range and physical persistence. It is a new device, we got it from our Hazari escort. It amplifies the holo-matrix - I do not know if you have the technical background to follow the details -"
"I do," said Nessick. "Intriguing. We must talk about this, from a purely scientific and theoretical point of view."
"Yes, you must," said Tuarak, "any time I am at least a parsec away. This secondary actualizer, where is it now?"
"It was - we integrated one with the probe's circuitry, and also with the ship's projector system -"
"Interesting, interesting," said Nessick. "Tuarak, did you not say that the security holograms were resistant to the EMP grenades you used?"
"They - they were distorted, incapacitated, but not destroyed by the first one I threw, certainly," said Tuarak. "I ascribed that to exaggeration on the part of the Hierarchy salesperson who instructed me on their use - Are you suggesting that the security holos were reinforced by this - gadget?"
"A secondary actualizer. Something that makes holograms more real. Intriguing, intriguing. Where are your records of this device?" Nessick asked. "I do not recall seeing anything in the computer logs we downloaded."
"We, ah." Somehow, the hologram looked embarrassed. "We did not discuss it with - with the organic crew. The Hazari approached us. It affected us primarily, after all -"
"I think I understand," said Nessick. He touched the controls of the holo-projector, and the hologram froze into sudden immobility.
"I put it on pause," said Nessick. "So that you and I can discuss, without interruption... and we can unfreeze it as we go, if we need any more questions answered."
"I think we need many more questions answered," snapped Tuarak. "How could this device affect the Kobali colonists, for instance?"
"Ah," said Nessick, "there, I have already formulated a hypothesis. Yes. But we will need the device itself to confirm my suspicions.... It was an error, I am afraid, to destroy the Kadirian ship after you had taken the prisoners and the downloads."
"I did not want to leave forensic traces for the busybodies of the Benthans or the Alphans to find," said Tuarak. "Besides, Kadirian technology is not worth keeping."
"Usually, no, I concur. But in this case.... We need a copy of this secondary actualizer."
"Well, that should be easy enough to obtain. My sensor log will identify the Hazari escort, I will approach them, and I will - negotiate."
"As you say, as you say. I would advise peaceful negotiations, to begin with. The device might be destroyed in crossfire, otherwise -" Nessick glanced to one side, and stopped speaking. He walked to the wall of the laboratory, peered through the small circle of a viewport.
"There one goes again," he said in peevish, complaining tones. "I wish you had cleaned them up properly."
Tuarak crossed the laboratory floor to stand by the Octanti, to look out on the contorted, frozen form of a Kadirian, drifting in the vacuum beyond. He snorted. "If only we had known that those organic ones had no clue," he said. "It would have saved time."
"They are making my station look untidy," Nessick grumbled.
"Oh, very well, I will detail some defaulters to clear them away and incinerate them," said Tuarak. "While we make my ship ready - for the hunt."
Tuarak's psychosis is incredible. He's so sickeningly evil I can't help but be entranced. Mur was a complete monster and enjoyed it, but this guy likes it so much he wants to be more evil.
Frankly, I'm excited to see exactly how many pieces Rrueo cuts him into with her talons.
Pexlini makes perfect sense if you take it that she does know what she's doing - and myself, I didn't have any problem believing that she knew what she was doing. (It may make a difference that I haven't actually seen Voyager myself, so I was taking her at face value without expecting her to be like this Neelix.) Why should every competent character have to be a) a grim, square-jawed hyper-military type or b) a ruthless, icy-cool black-ops guy? I get so TIRED of those. People are people. What's unlikely about a competent captain who larks about and talks nineteen to the dozen? Shevet, don't ever get less original!
As for the dice game: some people were suggesting that they should have sent in a Section 31 agent instead who "would have done the job properly". But a Section 31 agent, armed with that kind of inside information, would undoubtedly have bet the Bajoran if that was what it took - that's the kind of thing Section 31 was invented for. And some of you would have been admiring his steely nerve. What's different about Pexlini? Only that you're assuming she can't be trusted to make a call like that, whereas the S31 b*****d can because he's a b*****d.
Actually, in one way I have to say she is incompetent, though. I'm a science student and wouldn't know a tactic from a hole in the ground, but - blowing an unknown but evidently effective biowarfare agent all over the place, beaming back to your ship, then running straight onto the bridge without so much as changing your clothes? Smack-with-a-wet-fish time, Pex. :cool:
Tuarak is one of the greatest villains I've ever read, and that includes Steelheart, Ruin, and Gradget Dilaf.
Rrueo is the Toph Beifong of the cast, and Oschmann is beyond excellent. Rrueo and company could be the only crew here and be doing everything by themselves and it'd still be a good story.
M'eioi, while not the kind of commanding officer I would promote to an admiralty position or want in charge of me, is an excellent character whose interactions with Rrueo are extremely fun to read.
If it weren't for Heresy, Fallout, Claws, and the story that incredibly awesome story sander233 wrote me as a birthday present, this would likely be my favorite story on the forums.
Shevet, you have also managed to more or less answer a question I hadn't considered but is a fascinating one: how do your provide psychological and physiological stressors to a computer program?
I feel a little bad for the holos. Usually it takes years of belonging to a cult to dig up dark horrors from the beyond. They've done it by accident
The question of how (presumably) protomatter interacted, or if it was involved directly at all, with the Kobali remains, or if it was some tremendous coincidence.
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My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
Ohhhh man. This guy is a million different levels of evil insanity. Shevet, have you ever considered that you might be too good at this? (Totally joking, Tuarak is fking awesome.)
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
I dare you to do better.
The blue-grey face with the rat-trap mouth glares at me from the main viewer. "You do not have permission," the Turei commander says.
"Neither, presumably, did the Vaadwaur ship we are pursuing," I point out. "Your cooperation would... help us to solve a crime, perhaps prevent more deaths."
"Perhaps." The rigid features of the Turei are not well designed for sneering, but this one manages it nonetheless. "The Underspace is the territory and prerogative of the Turei people. Your Alliance's provisional treaties accept this. If you choose to disregard those, to take what you wish - as the Vaadwaur do - then you must accept the consequences of that action."
"The Delta Alliance respects your people's rights, of course," I say. The temptation to remove this obstacle with a blast from my disruptors is strong, though. "If you withhold your permission, then we cannot pursue this Vaadwaur ship.... Rrueo submits to you, though, that whatever the Vaadwaur are doing, it is important to stop them."
"We will attend to that matter," says the Turei. "Since you have no reason to remain in this region of space any longer, I expect you to depart." And he closes the channel. I sit back, and do not repress a growl.
"We could take them -" K'Rokok begins.
"But it would be a major breach of our diplomatic agreements," I say, "and we have orders to respect those. Rrueo has no desire to create an interstellar incident... and Rrueo would prefer to keep her head on her shoulders, not on Chancellor J'mpok's trophy wall. We will depart, as this functionary instructs us. Do we have a probable locus for the exit from this underspace tunnel?"
"Four of them," says Oschmann in leaden tones. The Vaadwaur originally controlled the subspace corridors known as the Underspace, and it was only natural that one of their ships should head for such a bolthole. Unfortunately, it drew the attention of the current - owners - of the Underspace, and the Turei are very much inclined to stand on their rights. I contemplate the Turei cruiser hanging in space between me and the insubstantial gateway, and I itch with the urge to destroy it. But the Chancellor is somewhat brusque with officers who hinder his diplomatic efforts.... "Time to cover them all, via normal space?"
"At least ten days," says Oschmann. Her tones stay glum. The chance, even, of reacquiring the Vaadwaur ship's warp contrail is slim enough... but it is our only lead to date, and we must follow it.
"Plot a course to the nearest one, and proceed at maximum warp," I order. "A swift departure will no doubt please our ally there.... And prepare a subspace radio message for the USS Timor; tell them to expect a delay in our rendezvous and explain why. Use secure protocols, as normal - transmit in Code Seven along Delta Command's encrypted channels."
---
Time passes. Time passes, and I fret. We are active creatures, we Ferasans, and while we can lie patiently in wait for our prey, the lengthy boredom of a search or a stern chase sits ill with us.
Realistically, too, I suspect the search will be fruitless. Space is vast, the Vaadwaur ships travel fast, and our sensor data is incomplete in any event. Things are easier in the Alpha Quadrant, where there are co-operating authorities who log the movements of spacecraft within their notional boundaries. The late Captain Klur, when he launched his ill-advised attack on Bercera IV, spent much time and effort hiding his warp contrail in emission nebulae and stellar remnants - not to any good effect. But, here, there are no networks of sensor buoys, no sector-spanning traffic control, just the occasional local authority who may, or may not, be cooperative.
So, we reach the probable exit from the Underspace tunnel, and we scan, and we find nothing... and we move to the next probable exit, and we repeat the process, and I am practically living in my ready room, catching snatches of sleep at all hours of day and night....
It is after I awaken from one such nap that Oschmann brings a message from the Timor. Her tone, both of voice and of mind, is carefully neutral as she says, "The Timor's commander says that - I quote, sir - 'I have received your message and wish to meet with you soon to discuss matters at the location previously agreed'. That is all, sir."
I frown. "That is - odd. Unless that genetic reject has somehow become allergic to specifics. Wait. Was the message sent through an unsecured link, somehow?"
"It came through Delta Command's encrypted network as normal, sir."
"What game is the Caitian playing, that she must express herself so coyly?" I shake my head. "Well, we will no doubt find out in due time. Status?"
"Just approaching the third probable exit locus, sir, and about to drop out of warp." I grunt, and stalk out of the ready room, to take my seat in the command chair just as Brathana shivers back into normal space.
"Commencing detailed sensor sweep," Toriash rumbles from his post at the main science console. There is a trace of fatigue in his voice - well, this has been a weary time for us all. "Scanning for warp signatures and characteristic Underspace disturbances... I am not detecting either...."
"Our maps of the Underspace may well be inaccurate," mutters Oschmann.
"Continuing spherical sweep," says Toriash. Brathana's sensors will interrogate every cubic millimetre of the space around us, before I give up and move on. "Wait. Sensor response -" His head turns suddenly towards me. "Extreme range, but positive. Ships, incoming on an approach vector."
"Yellow alert. Raise shields and go to defensive posture," I order. Better safe than sorry, in this part of space. I toy with the idea of cloaking, but... no. If the ships are coming for us, they know we are here, and too many Delta species use wide-area barrages for me to be comfortable without shields.
"Scanning energy signatures," says Toriash. "Type identification... confirmed. Vaadwaur. One assault cruiser and three light assault vessels."
"Red alert."
Lights flash; the tactical display comes to life, illustrating trajectories, weapon ranges, targeting envelopes.... The Vaadwaur task force is substantial enough to worry me. I have seen how those ships can fight.
"Incoming hail," Oschmann reports.
"On screen."
The Vaadwaur commander views me with hard and glittering eyes; his expression is feral. "I gather you are looking for a Vaadwaur vessel," he says, without preamble. "Well. Now that you have found one, what will you do?"
I turn my head to one side, speaking to Toriash. "Do we have any matches for the warp signature we were following?"
"Negative," Toriash answers.
I turn back to the viewscreen. "It seems," I say, projecting a confidence that I do not feel at all, "that you are not the Vaadwaur that Rrueo is looking for. So, you are free to depart. Go about your business."
"Today," says the Vaadwaur, "my business is to administer a lesson to certain arrogant Alphans -" He stops, and looks offscreen in startlement.
"Fresh sensor contacts," Toriash announces. "Inbound on vector seven niner mark six."
Vaadwaur reinforcements? But my opponent is as surprised as I am -
"Incoming hail, sir," says Oschmann.
I sigh. "On screen."
The screen splits. On one side, the Vaadwaur commander, his sharp-featured face twisting into a snarl of fury; on the other, a bulky figure in black armour, eyes gleaming through the open visor of a helmet -
"Prey. I am Alpha Gronaj. These are my hunting grounds, and I trust you will be worthy quarry. The hunt begins."
I cut the channels with an irritated flick of my paw. The screen goes blank.
"Mother told me there'd be days like this," Oschmann mutters.
---
The Hirogen battle group consists of an Apex battleship with three frigate consorts. The hunters' vessels are boring straight towards us, fast. The Vaadwaur ships, quick and agile despite their great age, are shifting position - and their intentions are only too apparent. They are aiming to keep us between them and the oncoming Hirogen. Their intention, evidently, is to have the Brathana destroyed in crossfire.
I do not propose to cooperate with this plan. But I am now outnumbered eight to one, and there is no prospect of making common cause with one attacker against the other. Both Vaadwaur and Hirogen can be trusted only to try to kill us.
"Hard about. Target the Apex." Brathana has a number of interesting new features, and they are about to get their first proper test. "Evasive, vector niner eight by two." A predictable effort to squeeze out from between the two opposing forces. Predictable, therefore easily countered, therefore - hopefully - they will not anticipate the next move.
I watch the sensor repeaters, waiting for the telltale spikes of targeting pings from the Vaadwaur torpedo launchers. The Hirogen are closing fast, their tetryon beams already tracing blue lines through the night -
"Turn for the Apex now. Intercept course. Target forward weapons and fire."
Slightly less predictable, I hope. Warning lights flash on my console. The beam weapons from both sets of enemies are beginning to bite into my shields - and those Hirogen tetryon beams bite hard at shields. Moreover, we are turning into that barrage, and if I misjudge matters, the Hirogen will strip our shields to nothing just in time for the Vaadwaur to unleash a polaron barrage against us.
So, my choices are simple. Judge correctly, or die. Simple. But not easy.
The Hirogen battleship looms large in my viewer. The Vaadwaur targeting pings are coming faster, more intense. Brathana shudders as a tetryon beam rakes her port shield. More impacts on the rear shield - pulses of Vaadwaur polaron weapons. Structural integrity dips a percentage point or two; my hull is starting to suffer stress.
And the Vaadwaur are launching torpedoes....
"Hargh'peng and kinetic magnet, on the Apex, now! Steer two niner seven by two one!"
The Hargh'peng torpedo is one of the KDF's most powerful conventional weapons - but there is nothing conventional about the kinetic magnet; it is a completely inaccurate name for an intelligence warfare package that confuses IFF and targeting, identifying its target as the nearest and most tempting one for any missiles in the vicinity. And the Vaadwaur do so love their tricobalt torpedoes -
Brathana twists aside and away, disruptor arrays spitting green light at her attackers - and the cargo of death unleashed by the Vaadwaur, intended for us, slams home instead into the Hirogen battleship. Silhouetted by explosions, wreathed in the flares from its failing shields, the Apex rocks and vents air and flames from a dozen hull breaches. The lurid violet glare of the Hargh'peng radiation is almost lost in the dazzle. Perhaps Gronaj's mother warned him there would be days like this, too.
But the Apex is by no means out of the fight yet. More lines of light shoot from it, spreading out, resolving themselves suddenly into menacing shapes - photonic warships, combat holograms which channel the mother ship's warp core to power weapons arrays of their own. The Hirogens' firepower is, briefly, multiplied considerably, and that will tell -
"Intelligence analysis complete. Weapons siphon available," Oschmann reports.
"Activate!"
Another misnomer; the intelligence subroutines identify the Hirogen weapons and shields frequencies, enabling us to neutralize their beams more effectively, and use ours to greater effect. It is as though we stole part of their weapons power and used it for ourselves. Our disruptors stab through the failing shields of the Apex, savaging the hull. My own shields are still weak, though, and the impacts on my hull are a constant worrying rumble.
But we are not the only ones shooting, and one of the Vaadwaur assault vessels has moved forward of the main force - too far forward. Its polaron weapons are blazing, enough to attract attention - and the Hirogen take their chance. For a moment, the full firepower of every Hirogen ship, real and photonic, is concentrated on that one vessel - and a moment is all it takes to blast it out of existence.
"Helm." I sketch in a course on the tac display. "This."
The death of one of their ships is enough to provoke the Vaadwaur into a fury of vengeance. Space seethes and boils with blast after blast from their polaron artillery. Brathana rocks and judders, and there is the flash-bang of a transient EM surge from a console on the bridge - and another, and another. My shields are stripped to nothing now by the Hirogen assault, and the damage control board shows the barrage telling on my ship -
"Shields down! Hull breaches decks four through six! Fire in maintenance bay two!" K'Rokok is reeling off the damage like a machine himself. But the drives are still working, and the ship swings around on the course I set, keeping the blazing ruin of the Apex battleship between us and the Vaadwaur.
My shields are already down; the Hirogen cannot last much longer; it is time. "Battle cloak now!"
Brathana shimmers into invisibility just as the Apex's warp core goes. Brilliant light shines through us, but the ship is beyond - barely beyond - the damaging radius of the explosion. The Hirogen and the Vaadwaur are trading body blows, but, with the battleship and its photonic consorts gone, it is all up for the light Seeker-class frigates. The Vaadwaur take their revenge, bloodily and methodically.
I glance around. Fire suppression has taken care of the burning consoles, but there is still a haze of smoke in the bridge's air. The damage control readouts make grim viewing. But Brathana is still functional, her weapons and drive still working... and we have a breathing space, while the Vaadwaur finish their work.
"They will track our warp signature if we leave," Oschmann says. "Sir -"
"Rrueo has no intention of leaving," I snarl. "As for their finding us, Rrueo intends that they should. Rrueo will announce her presence in no uncertain terms. Helm. Swing us around behind the assault cruiser."
We are battered, leaking air, and still outnumbered... and I hear the low mutter, sense the approval growing around the bridge. I lean forward in the command chair, and I know my eyes are smouldering in the ruddy light.
Brathana comes about. K'Rokok slams his hand on the side of his console, again and again, a pounding rhythm to which the other Klingons begin to chant, softly at first, then louder and louder. Toriash shrugs. Oschmann favours them all with a thin-lipped smile, and turns her attention back to her console.
The Hirogen are dead - the Vaadwaur take no prisoners. The fight has cost them, though, another light assault vessel, and both the cruiser and the remaining light craft have taken substantial damage. They are casting about, sensors visibly active.
"They're looking for us," Oschmann says.
I check. We are in position. "Let them find us."
We decloak at point-blank range, disruptors blazing at both ships. The light assault vessel stands no chance; it dies in a burst of blue flame. That leaves us and the cruiser. One on one - both damaged, but both determined.
A volley of polaron fire rips into us. Somehow, engineering has restored some of my fore shields; they are torn to shreds in an instant, and flames blossom along our forward hull. The Vaadwaur ship is turning, trying to present his powerful forward artillery. Brathana still has agility, though, and we cling to his rear arc, sending bolt after bolt from the disruptors, firing the Hargh'peng as fast as the tube will take it. I hardly notice the fresh explosions on the bridge, the flickering of the lights, the shuddering as my ship is pounded -
"Vaadwaur's drive is down!" someone yells. "Power levels dropping! We've crippled them!"
"Tractor beam." I think my face has frozen in a snarl.
Blue light reaches from my ship to grip the Vaadwaur cruiser. "Comms. Hail them."
The Vaadwaur commander's face appears once more on my screen. The expression on it is an indescribable compound of rage, grief, and sheer astonishment. Behind him, I can see his bridge in flames.
"This is an auspicious day for you," I purr. "Rrueo has questions for you, and you may, therefore, live to answer them. Power down what remains of your ship and surrender."
He answers only with a wordless snarl. He reaches for some control, out of my field of vision -
The Vaadwaur cruiser twists and turns in the tractor beam - I feel the kinetic surges as it tries to break loose, to escape. And then, suddenly, there is no more resistance. The cruiser's structural integrity fails, and its spine snaps, and the whole vessel breaks asunder.
"Repulsors! Evade!" I screech.
Still caught in the tractor beam, a huge burning chunk of the Vaadwaur's hull comes hurtling towards us. Proximity alarms scream. Oschmann hits her console, shouting a string of oaths, and the main deflector flares with overload power, and Brathana twists aside just in time, the fragment swooping over us to streak off into the depths of space. The ship rocks and judders as smaller pieces strike the hull, a cacophony of booms and clatters sounding all around us.
"Steadying," murmurs K'Rokok, as the din fades to silence. "Reading no life signs in the wreckage, sir."
I spit with frustration. Then I bring myself back under control. "Begin repairs. Let me know the worst of the damage, and how long it will take to fix it. And prepare a casualty list. Sensors. Keep a vigilant watch."
---
Hours pass. The damage is... extensive.
It is Oschmann who brings me the final report, in my ready room. Her face is carefully blank, but her mind-tone is... troubled.
"We are fully operational," she says.
"But?" I ask.
"We've used a lot of our stock of non-replicateable spares," Oschmann says bluntly. "Right now, engineering is below establishment minimum. That wouldn't matter, normally - they're there to be used -"
"But we are a very long way from home, and resupply bases are few and far between," I finish for her. "Rrueo is aware of this. Rrueo, therefore, will try hard not to be caught unawares again."
"That - would be wise, sir."
"Rrueo knows this. Rrueo has also had time to think on other matters." I regard her through slitted eyes. "The Vaadwaur knew we were searching, knew where to find us. How?"
"It could only be through some sort of security breach, sir."
"Quite. At first, I wondered if the Caitian had been loose-lipped... but, no. That is why she was so circumspect in her message. She knew the communications channel was compromised. How did she know, and how much else does she know?"
Oschmann frowns. "If our secure comms channels have been breached -"
"Then we cannot discuss the matter on them. Rrueo knows." I sigh. "It seems a personal meeting with the Caitian... is now a matter of urgency."
I love this sequence. I like the way shevet can translate common in-game problems like an enemy's core breach hitting an unshielded arc to detailed descriptions of combat and ship damage.
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
I dare you to do better.
As before, I love how the battle translates. This was a hard one.
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My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
I had to re-read the thing to see what you meant...
Nice one, though.
Infinite possibilities have implications that could not be completely understood if you turned this entire universe into a giant supercomputer.
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
I dare you to do better.
Unfortunately, the Force did not give Rrueo power over the weak-minded.
Decent of Rrueo to try, tho. It was pretty funny.
Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother's, and yours.
I dare you to do better.