Well, thanks for the kind words - unfortunately, I doubt my review of your news piece was as thorough.
The main setting, barring Sparks' little jaunts, is the GURPS Traveller universe - STREPHON LIVES! No Final War. No Virus. No eleven figure body count. Hate to pick nits, but the Final War spanned 1116 thru 1130 in the OTU, and the Collapse was from 1130 thru 1200 in same.
The fleshing out comes from the characters being (N)PCs in a Star Mercs game I am running in the same Traveller universe and/or being based closely off real people - the precogged drop actually happened in a session. I'll leave it up to you to try to discern who is a PC in that game.
Similarly with the ships communicating in jump - a feature of my TU where ships that jumped as a group can communicate with each other. Not explicitly addressed in any canonical materials I have yet found.
The plot jumps are to some extent intentional, but ignoring that, what needs cleaning up the most?
Vilani names are mainly due to this little gem, then subject to my own creativity.
As for Mouse's last name, I take the tack it's from a fairly obscure dialect of Bilanidin and pronounce it i-RU-ri-ZI-ran.
Captain Le Strange pulled the battle stations drill just before her ship entered Jump, and an hour or so into said Jump, Commodore Howard started chewing her out.
Flight of the Vindicator
Moderator: LadyTevar
Preliminary Dramatis Fnordiae (in no particular order, and not caring too much about ethnic makeup - after all, there are 45 human races, 4 of them major - and I've probably missed a few)
Larsen E. Whipsnade XXVI - Male mixed-race human
Alec J. Whipsnade - Male mixed-race human
Jeffrey Zeitlin - Male Solomani
Ion Zeitlin - Male Solomani/Daryen
Michael Ukirekii-Wong - Male Vilani/Solomani
Robert Dalton - Male mixed-race human
Danaarin Baley - Male Vilani
Mitchell Edanaaki-Baley - Male Vilani
Elliot Baley - Male Zhodani/mixed-race human
Dekenaana Irirusiran - Female Vilani
Alex Le Strange - Female mixed-race human
Frederick Ramen - Male Solomani/mixed-race human
Elane Tevar - Female Vilani/Daryen
Cheyne Van - Female Solomani
Dixon J. Flatline - Male Solomani
Makhaya Sterrett - Male mixed-race human
Jonas S. Strawn - Male Vilani/mixed-race human
Ransyn Daevagh - Female Gvegh Vargr
Andrew Johnson - Male mixed-race human
Thalassa Calvarez - Female mixed-race human
Larsen E. Whipsnade XXVI - Male mixed-race human
Alec J. Whipsnade - Male mixed-race human
Jeffrey Zeitlin - Male Solomani
Ion Zeitlin - Male Solomani/Daryen
Michael Ukirekii-Wong - Male Vilani/Solomani
Robert Dalton - Male mixed-race human
Danaarin Baley - Male Vilani
Mitchell Edanaaki-Baley - Male Vilani
Elliot Baley - Male Zhodani/mixed-race human
Dekenaana Irirusiran - Female Vilani
Alex Le Strange - Female mixed-race human
Frederick Ramen - Male Solomani/mixed-race human
Elane Tevar - Female Vilani/Daryen
Cheyne Van - Female Solomani
Dixon J. Flatline - Male Solomani
Makhaya Sterrett - Male mixed-race human
Jonas S. Strawn - Male Vilani/mixed-race human
Ransyn Daevagh - Female Gvegh Vargr
Andrew Johnson - Male mixed-race human
Thalassa Calvarez - Female mixed-race human
Flag Bridge, INS Vindicator, 238-1129
Dalton finished his musing. "Get the squadron flagships."
Dalton waited until the subdued "You're live, sir" and the video links were established with the other squadron commanders, Mack "Blastwave" Sheppard aboard Retaliator, Jonathon "Eyebrows" Howard aboard Lucifer, Bekasharaagurabemi "Cracker" Isirasira aboard Semyaza, Baraniikisiruurizi "Sparks" Asirurizisir aboard Abaddon, and Sarah "Outrun" Shugiinsha aboard Fallen Angel, before absently noting, with interest, that both Howard and Shugiinsha had their flag captains, Alex Le Strange and Eduardo "Yard Broom" Harris in attendance as well.
"Eyebrows, Outrun, what's with the flag skippers?"
Shugiinsha answered first. "Sir, Captain Harris was just reporting to me on an unrelated matter when you called."
Dalton smirked. "How do you know if the matter is unrelated when I haven't told you what it is?"
Dalton let her squirm a bit while he turned his attention to Howard.
"Eyebrows?"
I'm beginning to think I brevetted the wrong captain, mused Dalton while he waited for Howard to grace him with his response.
"My flag captain had just finished reporting to me on the most recent series of damage control exercises, sir."
"Why? Last I looked, Eyebrows, that was a star on your collar, not bars."
Howard grinned somewhat wryly. "True, sir, but is it not a measure of prudence to ascertain how well your flagship can survive after taking major damage?"
Dalton raised an eyebrow. Have to give the little fucker points for trying.
"Commodore, the beancounters may call the vessel you're aboard a heavy cruiser, but it outguns, outlasts, outmaneuvers and outruns any capital vessel on the Navy's rolls barring a Vindicator. In my book, that's a damn dreadnaught."
"That may be true sir, but unless there was an engagement that happened during their construction, none of the vessels of your battlegroup are combat tested."
Mosh Pit looked up and more than a little funny at her squadron commander's declamation.
No one missed it, except Howard.
Dalton had also noticed what he thought was a trick of the light reflecting off Le Strange's eyes, but shrugged it off. "Got something to add, captain?"
Le Strange shook herself, then replied, "Not really sir, just hoping the commodore wasn't tempting fate."
I know you're hiding something, you emerald-eyed bitch. Show me what it is.
"I think we all are, captain. I want each squadron flagship to also astrogate the battlegroup's next jump and uplink it to me."
Shugiinsha had stopped squirming and spoke up. "Why, sir?"
"Few things. First, provide some decentralisation, give me more than one ship with astrogators practiced in astrogating at battlegroup level. Second, combining the multiple plots should allow most errors to be caught before they cause misjump - a major benefit when every sophont in this conversation is responsible for at least forty thousand lives, up to a bit over a million in my case. I'll leave it up to you commodores whether to practice the same at squadron level. Third, when the shit hits the fan and a meson blast takes me and my flag bridge out, the battlegroup as a whole can still escape."
Dalton finished his musing. "Get the squadron flagships."
Dalton waited until the subdued "You're live, sir" and the video links were established with the other squadron commanders, Mack "Blastwave" Sheppard aboard Retaliator, Jonathon "Eyebrows" Howard aboard Lucifer, Bekasharaagurabemi "Cracker" Isirasira aboard Semyaza, Baraniikisiruurizi "Sparks" Asirurizisir aboard Abaddon, and Sarah "Outrun" Shugiinsha aboard Fallen Angel, before absently noting, with interest, that both Howard and Shugiinsha had their flag captains, Alex Le Strange and Eduardo "Yard Broom" Harris in attendance as well.
"Eyebrows, Outrun, what's with the flag skippers?"
Shugiinsha answered first. "Sir, Captain Harris was just reporting to me on an unrelated matter when you called."
Dalton smirked. "How do you know if the matter is unrelated when I haven't told you what it is?"
Dalton let her squirm a bit while he turned his attention to Howard.
"Eyebrows?"
I'm beginning to think I brevetted the wrong captain, mused Dalton while he waited for Howard to grace him with his response.
"My flag captain had just finished reporting to me on the most recent series of damage control exercises, sir."
"Why? Last I looked, Eyebrows, that was a star on your collar, not bars."
Howard grinned somewhat wryly. "True, sir, but is it not a measure of prudence to ascertain how well your flagship can survive after taking major damage?"
Dalton raised an eyebrow. Have to give the little fucker points for trying.
"Commodore, the beancounters may call the vessel you're aboard a heavy cruiser, but it outguns, outlasts, outmaneuvers and outruns any capital vessel on the Navy's rolls barring a Vindicator. In my book, that's a damn dreadnaught."
"That may be true sir, but unless there was an engagement that happened during their construction, none of the vessels of your battlegroup are combat tested."
Mosh Pit looked up and more than a little funny at her squadron commander's declamation.
No one missed it, except Howard.
Dalton had also noticed what he thought was a trick of the light reflecting off Le Strange's eyes, but shrugged it off. "Got something to add, captain?"
Le Strange shook herself, then replied, "Not really sir, just hoping the commodore wasn't tempting fate."
I know you're hiding something, you emerald-eyed bitch. Show me what it is.
"I think we all are, captain. I want each squadron flagship to also astrogate the battlegroup's next jump and uplink it to me."
Shugiinsha had stopped squirming and spoke up. "Why, sir?"
"Few things. First, provide some decentralisation, give me more than one ship with astrogators practiced in astrogating at battlegroup level. Second, combining the multiple plots should allow most errors to be caught before they cause misjump - a major benefit when every sophont in this conversation is responsible for at least forty thousand lives, up to a bit over a million in my case. I'll leave it up to you commodores whether to practice the same at squadron level. Third, when the shit hits the fan and a meson blast takes me and my flag bridge out, the battlegroup as a whole can still escape."
Sorry, lack of inspiration + real life catching up to me and cracking me one upside the head. Short update now, edit as I go.
edit: cut out some waffle
Bridge, INS Fallen Angel, 239-1129
Captain Eduardo "Yard Broom" Harris, MCG and bar, IN, had been so nicknamed because of his habit, contrary to current naval fashion, of wearing a full beard that continually defied his attempts to keep it anything resembling neat. The dark, curly beard sat atop a weathered, tanned countenance from which bright brown eyes surveyed his world. Harris' hair was similarly rebellious, exasperating him to the extent of him resorting to keeping it shaved to a very short stubble.
The resulting effect sat atop a fairly short, powerfully stocky body that completely filled out the tailored dress blacks that Harris insisted be worn on his bridge.
He was yet to figure out why, despite Dalton's explanation the previous day, why each squadron flagship had to astrogate jump for the entire battlegroup - they were well inside Imperial territory, during a not only a time of peace but lowered astropolitical tensions thanks to the Darrians' using the Star Trigger in anger four sectors spinward.
Harris' musing about the ironies of a weapon of mass destruction, second only to the terrible engines the Ancients had used in their Final War, lowering inter-superpower tensions was interrupted by the slight jolt of Jump entry.
That in and of itself was not altogether unusual - every experienced spacer could subconsciously identify the slight vibration that signalled Jump entry or exit, which tended to grow with the distance of the Jump and shrink with the size of the ship. He was still getting used to how a Jump-7 vessel behaved, with each entry being disproportionately more violent than an otherwise equivalent Jump-6 vessel.
Lieutenant Barry "Hot Dog" Parkins, lately of the go-fast fighter game, now helm officer, and thankfully NOT naviguesser, announced "Annnd.... ZERO time of transit... chrono engaged". Simultaneously with "ZERO", the Jump clock lit up with LED blue numerals, clicking relentlessly upwards.
The contrast between the skipper and helmsman's builds almost mirrored that between Sheppard and Tevar - Parkins was almost as thin as Tevar but nearly twenty centimetres taller while Harris took after Sheppardian shoulder width.
"Conn, helm, we have safely entered Jump, estimated mean duration of battlegroup jump one hundred", Parkins paused to confer with the petty officer in the pit below his station, "sixty seven decimal four hours, estimated maximum temporal dispersion one decimal eight hours."
With the helm confirming successful entry, the bridge started standing down to Jump watchbill without waiting for Harris' order, leaving the bridge empty of everyone barring the watch officers within minutes.
edit: cut out some waffle
Bridge, INS Fallen Angel, 239-1129
Captain Eduardo "Yard Broom" Harris, MCG and bar, IN, had been so nicknamed because of his habit, contrary to current naval fashion, of wearing a full beard that continually defied his attempts to keep it anything resembling neat. The dark, curly beard sat atop a weathered, tanned countenance from which bright brown eyes surveyed his world. Harris' hair was similarly rebellious, exasperating him to the extent of him resorting to keeping it shaved to a very short stubble.
The resulting effect sat atop a fairly short, powerfully stocky body that completely filled out the tailored dress blacks that Harris insisted be worn on his bridge.
He was yet to figure out why, despite Dalton's explanation the previous day, why each squadron flagship had to astrogate jump for the entire battlegroup - they were well inside Imperial territory, during a not only a time of peace but lowered astropolitical tensions thanks to the Darrians' using the Star Trigger in anger four sectors spinward.
Harris' musing about the ironies of a weapon of mass destruction, second only to the terrible engines the Ancients had used in their Final War, lowering inter-superpower tensions was interrupted by the slight jolt of Jump entry.
That in and of itself was not altogether unusual - every experienced spacer could subconsciously identify the slight vibration that signalled Jump entry or exit, which tended to grow with the distance of the Jump and shrink with the size of the ship. He was still getting used to how a Jump-7 vessel behaved, with each entry being disproportionately more violent than an otherwise equivalent Jump-6 vessel.
Lieutenant Barry "Hot Dog" Parkins, lately of the go-fast fighter game, now helm officer, and thankfully NOT naviguesser, announced "Annnd.... ZERO time of transit... chrono engaged". Simultaneously with "ZERO", the Jump clock lit up with LED blue numerals, clicking relentlessly upwards.
The contrast between the skipper and helmsman's builds almost mirrored that between Sheppard and Tevar - Parkins was almost as thin as Tevar but nearly twenty centimetres taller while Harris took after Sheppardian shoulder width.
"Conn, helm, we have safely entered Jump, estimated mean duration of battlegroup jump one hundred", Parkins paused to confer with the petty officer in the pit below his station, "sixty seven decimal four hours, estimated maximum temporal dispersion one decimal eight hours."
With the helm confirming successful entry, the bridge started standing down to Jump watchbill without waiting for Harris' order, leaving the bridge empty of everyone barring the watch officers within minutes.
Sorry, real life struck again.
Anonymous petty officer bunkroom, INS Vindicator, 241-1129
Sparks yet again found sleep elusive, despite coming off a double shift. Sector Admiral Murphy had struck again, with bunches of niggling little things that all piled up over the extended shift, resulting in Commander Flatline having to take the somewhat unusual step of getting her relieved early.
Somewhat ironically, both freshers had also crapped out.
On prestige vessels, mainly dreadnaughts, superdreadnaughts like Vindicator, and archducal flagships, junior enlisted spacers up to Leading Spacer, and jarheads up to Corporal, snoozed in 6-berth bunkrooms, with 4 such bunkrooms sharing a small common area. Regular petty officers, and Marines up to section sergeant shared 4-berth bunkrooms with their own common area, significantly larger than that shared by enlisted bunkrooms.
Senior NCOs, namely Chief and Senior Chief Petty Officers, the legendary Marine sergeants ranking between Gunnery Sergeant up to Fleet Sergeant and its tech track equivalent, Master Gunnery Sergeant, shared real, full-size cabins.
The exalted warrant officers, naval Master and Fleet Chief Petty Officers, and Marine Master Fleet and Fleet Master Gunnery Sergeants, rated a cabin to themselves, Fleet Chiefs rating a somewhat oversize cabin on the rare occasions one deigned to lower themselves to joining a ship's complement.
Officer cadets bunked in very similar arrangements to petty officers, while junior commissioned officers, naval Midshipman to Lieutenant, and Marine Force Ensign to Force Captain, shared an oversized cabin. Senior line officers, Lieutenant Commander to Commodore, and field-grade Marine officers, Force Commander to Brigadier, rated their own standard-size cabins. Command appointments, such as divisional head, a regiment or battalion, bumped that up to their own oversized cabin. The ship's CO and XO each rated their own double-sized luxury cabins, while embarked general or marshal officers each rated single luxury cabins.
Enlisted flag staff generally got two notches better than they would as part of the ship's complement, while commissioned flag staff went one notch better. Out of respect to their rank, any embarked flag officers (as opposed to mere officers of flag rank) actually flying their flag from the vessel rated the same accommodations as the ship's captain.
She passed the poker game underway in the common room on autopilot, and barely had her head hit the bunk pillow when the outside world faded again.
Unknown location, unknown time
[BGM: Starbase Commander - Corridor Nine, The Ur-Quan Masters Soundtrack]
Unlike the last vision, this one was third person - Sparks herself didn't seem to be present, but the same leaden feeling of unreality was still there.
With a slight shock, out of the five men in the room, she recognised three immediately. The first was the salt and pepper grey-haired, mustachioed, Archduke Norris of Deneb, the second was his assistant, Branj "Old Chrome Dome" Dilgaadin, and the third was, confusingly, Duke Danaarin I of Five Sisters. Norris wore a natty three-piece suit, as did Dilgaadin, while the Duke clad himself in a Scout-issue shipsuit that had definitely seen much better days.
Sparks felt her eyes goggle at the sole miniature device that adorned the front of the ship suit. I never knew that he won that....
The two men that she didn't recognise also wore Scout issue ship suits, similarly banged up, with the same ship patch on each. ISS Pathfinder.... now why the eshkha does that seem familiar?
Audio finally kicked in, "... self a hero" coming from Norris' mouth - Sparks couldn't read lips that well to decode the rest of the sentence.
"True, but with the disintegration of the Imperium we've seen on our first two trips, extrapolation is practically useless - you need some poor fuckers, like us, to go take a look see." Danaarin this time.
"You know what Strephon told me - hell, you relayed it - thanks to those two paragons of restraint, virtue and sanity, Lucan and Dulinor, it's only a matter of time before the shit really hits the fan and the lights start going out on a massive scale. Only last month, at the decommissioning ceremony for Arrival Vengeance, the TAS declared the region around the horn Wilds."
All present laughed bitterly at the Archduke's sarcasm - Archduke Dulinor's power grab had started the Imperium's corpse on the path towards self-destruction in the first place, and Prince Lucan was a paranoid, power-mad nutter of the first grade, willing to step over his twin brother Varian's corpse to get that power - "lucanic" as a synonym for insane stupidity had already started to enter the Domain of Deneb's discourse. Norris had kept the Domain mainly out of the Final War by declaring loyalty to the Imperium as a whole, not any one ruler.
"Besides, Danaarin, since your mother's death during the ..ah... officially approved Bard Refuge mission, you also have greater responsibilities - namely, a subsector."
"Which is quite ably managed by a combination of my eldest son and my senior husband. Your point, Your Grace?"
Norris sighed quietly to himself. If he was any more subtle, the man could be a diplomat. At least he didn't vault the table and assault me.
"Whether you may particularly like it or not, you're one of a small group of people that the populace as a whole looks towards for guidance. You've proven yourself a hero many times over - I must admit, deliberately crashing an unarmed shuttle into a POW camp while under heavy fire is not a low risk activity - but why do you seem to be shirking responsibilities you were born to?"
Anonymous petty officer bunkroom, INS Vindicator, 241-1129
Sparks yet again found sleep elusive, despite coming off a double shift. Sector Admiral Murphy had struck again, with bunches of niggling little things that all piled up over the extended shift, resulting in Commander Flatline having to take the somewhat unusual step of getting her relieved early.
Somewhat ironically, both freshers had also crapped out.
On prestige vessels, mainly dreadnaughts, superdreadnaughts like Vindicator, and archducal flagships, junior enlisted spacers up to Leading Spacer, and jarheads up to Corporal, snoozed in 6-berth bunkrooms, with 4 such bunkrooms sharing a small common area. Regular petty officers, and Marines up to section sergeant shared 4-berth bunkrooms with their own common area, significantly larger than that shared by enlisted bunkrooms.
Senior NCOs, namely Chief and Senior Chief Petty Officers, the legendary Marine sergeants ranking between Gunnery Sergeant up to Fleet Sergeant and its tech track equivalent, Master Gunnery Sergeant, shared real, full-size cabins.
The exalted warrant officers, naval Master and Fleet Chief Petty Officers, and Marine Master Fleet and Fleet Master Gunnery Sergeants, rated a cabin to themselves, Fleet Chiefs rating a somewhat oversize cabin on the rare occasions one deigned to lower themselves to joining a ship's complement.
Officer cadets bunked in very similar arrangements to petty officers, while junior commissioned officers, naval Midshipman to Lieutenant, and Marine Force Ensign to Force Captain, shared an oversized cabin. Senior line officers, Lieutenant Commander to Commodore, and field-grade Marine officers, Force Commander to Brigadier, rated their own standard-size cabins. Command appointments, such as divisional head, a regiment or battalion, bumped that up to their own oversized cabin. The ship's CO and XO each rated their own double-sized luxury cabins, while embarked general or marshal officers each rated single luxury cabins.
Enlisted flag staff generally got two notches better than they would as part of the ship's complement, while commissioned flag staff went one notch better. Out of respect to their rank, any embarked flag officers (as opposed to mere officers of flag rank) actually flying their flag from the vessel rated the same accommodations as the ship's captain.
She passed the poker game underway in the common room on autopilot, and barely had her head hit the bunk pillow when the outside world faded again.
Unknown location, unknown time
[BGM: Starbase Commander - Corridor Nine, The Ur-Quan Masters Soundtrack]
Unlike the last vision, this one was third person - Sparks herself didn't seem to be present, but the same leaden feeling of unreality was still there.
With a slight shock, out of the five men in the room, she recognised three immediately. The first was the salt and pepper grey-haired, mustachioed, Archduke Norris of Deneb, the second was his assistant, Branj "Old Chrome Dome" Dilgaadin, and the third was, confusingly, Duke Danaarin I of Five Sisters. Norris wore a natty three-piece suit, as did Dilgaadin, while the Duke clad himself in a Scout-issue shipsuit that had definitely seen much better days.
Sparks felt her eyes goggle at the sole miniature device that adorned the front of the ship suit. I never knew that he won that....
The two men that she didn't recognise also wore Scout issue ship suits, similarly banged up, with the same ship patch on each. ISS Pathfinder.... now why the eshkha does that seem familiar?
Audio finally kicked in, "... self a hero" coming from Norris' mouth - Sparks couldn't read lips that well to decode the rest of the sentence.
"True, but with the disintegration of the Imperium we've seen on our first two trips, extrapolation is practically useless - you need some poor fuckers, like us, to go take a look see." Danaarin this time.
"You know what Strephon told me - hell, you relayed it - thanks to those two paragons of restraint, virtue and sanity, Lucan and Dulinor, it's only a matter of time before the shit really hits the fan and the lights start going out on a massive scale. Only last month, at the decommissioning ceremony for Arrival Vengeance, the TAS declared the region around the horn Wilds."
All present laughed bitterly at the Archduke's sarcasm - Archduke Dulinor's power grab had started the Imperium's corpse on the path towards self-destruction in the first place, and Prince Lucan was a paranoid, power-mad nutter of the first grade, willing to step over his twin brother Varian's corpse to get that power - "lucanic" as a synonym for insane stupidity had already started to enter the Domain of Deneb's discourse. Norris had kept the Domain mainly out of the Final War by declaring loyalty to the Imperium as a whole, not any one ruler.
"Besides, Danaarin, since your mother's death during the ..ah... officially approved Bard Refuge mission, you also have greater responsibilities - namely, a subsector."
"Which is quite ably managed by a combination of my eldest son and my senior husband. Your point, Your Grace?"
Norris sighed quietly to himself. If he was any more subtle, the man could be a diplomat. At least he didn't vault the table and assault me.
"Whether you may particularly like it or not, you're one of a small group of people that the populace as a whole looks towards for guidance. You've proven yourself a hero many times over - I must admit, deliberately crashing an unarmed shuttle into a POW camp while under heavy fire is not a low risk activity - but why do you seem to be shirking responsibilities you were born to?"
Last edited by fnord on 2007-11-24 08:05am, edited 2 times in total.
-
Panzerfaust 150
- Redshirt
- Posts: 5
- Joined: 2007-05-14 11:27am
As Sparks kept watching, stupefied, the scene changed when she blinked.
It was still Norris' office.
The Duke and his crew members were gone. Norris and Dilgaadin remained, although the former had gained a rumpled dinner jacket, and Old Chrome Dome had donned a naval uniform, much like the one Sparks would ordinarily wear.
Among others joining them was a certain, unmistakable, massive figure.
It was a measure of Sparks' stupefaction that it took her nearly two full minutes to realise her point of view had changed. She was now surveying the scene from behind and above Norris' head, with Dilgaadin standing off to the right.
From her new point of view, Sparks could see the Archduke's perpetually chaotic desk, including, for the first time in this series of visions, a reference to a date.
240-1129.
Ordinarily, nothing special in the course of things. Just the day after 239-1129 and before 241-1129.
Except that today was 240-1129.
And the map projected onto the side wall didn't match any rendering of the Imperium's borders that Sparks had ever seen. The Domain of Deneb was cut off from the Imperium's greater body. The Solomani had retaken Terra and pushed beyond the original Solomani Sphere. The bulk of Imperial space was now marked "Wilds", whatever that meant. Superimposed on the map, Sparks could make out two routes - further effort disclosed the labels:
"ISS Pathfinder, 1116-1117"
"DNS Arrival Vengeance, 1123-1126"
"Why didn't you stop him?"
"He made a very convincing case, Branj."
"And the implied promise of physical violence didn't sway things?"
Norris was about to say something, when Dilgaadin continued.
"Or the morale disaster, especially in Five Sisters, when the ship has to be reported lost with all hands?"
If Sparks could feel her hands, she'd use them to scratch her head.
"As we collectively stand, backed onto the brink of the abyss, I cannot deny the situation we face is grave."
"Is it the nature of life to go quietly, meekly, into the night, slipping from history's pages?"
"No."
"For all their faults, perceived and actual, the Solomani as a race have and regularly exhibit a quality that we will all need to withstand the oncoming night - not merely fighting to the bitter end, when all hope is lost, but fighting beyond the bitter end, fighting until they can fight no longer, with hope long since extinguished."
"Every single sophont watching this has not just something abstract, the state that we collectively have built, but something concrete - children, parents, spouses, siblings, lovers, friends - worth fighting for."
"The oncoming night may seem so huge, so overwhelming, that nothing a single person, or a small group, can do will affect it."
What night? was one of the many questions richocheting around Sparks' mind as she watched the scene in Norris' office.
"Give into hope, not despair. Panic, disorder, and chaos can only hasten our end."
Now I know how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole, Sparks grumbled.
It was still Norris' office.
The Duke and his crew members were gone. Norris and Dilgaadin remained, although the former had gained a rumpled dinner jacket, and Old Chrome Dome had donned a naval uniform, much like the one Sparks would ordinarily wear.
Among others joining them was a certain, unmistakable, massive figure.
It was a measure of Sparks' stupefaction that it took her nearly two full minutes to realise her point of view had changed. She was now surveying the scene from behind and above Norris' head, with Dilgaadin standing off to the right.
From her new point of view, Sparks could see the Archduke's perpetually chaotic desk, including, for the first time in this series of visions, a reference to a date.
240-1129.
Ordinarily, nothing special in the course of things. Just the day after 239-1129 and before 241-1129.
Except that today was 240-1129.
And the map projected onto the side wall didn't match any rendering of the Imperium's borders that Sparks had ever seen. The Domain of Deneb was cut off from the Imperium's greater body. The Solomani had retaken Terra and pushed beyond the original Solomani Sphere. The bulk of Imperial space was now marked "Wilds", whatever that meant. Superimposed on the map, Sparks could make out two routes - further effort disclosed the labels:
"ISS Pathfinder, 1116-1117"
"DNS Arrival Vengeance, 1123-1126"
"Why didn't you stop him?"
"He made a very convincing case, Branj."
"And the implied promise of physical violence didn't sway things?"
Norris was about to say something, when Dilgaadin continued.
"Or the morale disaster, especially in Five Sisters, when the ship has to be reported lost with all hands?"
If Sparks could feel her hands, she'd use them to scratch her head.
"As we collectively stand, backed onto the brink of the abyss, I cannot deny the situation we face is grave."
"Is it the nature of life to go quietly, meekly, into the night, slipping from history's pages?"
"No."
"For all their faults, perceived and actual, the Solomani as a race have and regularly exhibit a quality that we will all need to withstand the oncoming night - not merely fighting to the bitter end, when all hope is lost, but fighting beyond the bitter end, fighting until they can fight no longer, with hope long since extinguished."
"Every single sophont watching this has not just something abstract, the state that we collectively have built, but something concrete - children, parents, spouses, siblings, lovers, friends - worth fighting for."
"The oncoming night may seem so huge, so overwhelming, that nothing a single person, or a small group, can do will affect it."
What night? was one of the many questions richocheting around Sparks' mind as she watched the scene in Norris' office.
"Give into hope, not despair. Panic, disorder, and chaos can only hasten our end."
Now I know how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole, Sparks grumbled.