- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
No idea! It's for the aesthetic! But I'm sure they've got some cool use I'll think of at some point.
Lieutenant Fusilier in The Farthest Reaches
- Thread starter open_sketch
- Start date
- Original Mature
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
It's a gravity based gun.
Maybe brush exists to clear out errant miniature moons and other satellites that get stuck in the field.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
To recondition the space inside the barrel after firing, which is disturbed by the high-intensity gravitic emissions and would foul the gun or even cause an explosion if allowed to accumulate during continuous firing. That's why you have to swab in and out vigorously, you have to realign gravity up and down the barrel instead of all tangly. They're a standalone doohickey, rather than being integrated into the gun, because the gravitic swab also makes a decent melee weapon and why waste it? Giving it to a robot means the guns can "fix bayonets", which is hilarious.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The most literal interpretation would be that the sponge is used to slide down the barrel to douse any spark or fire remaining in the piece, so perhaps it's a really fluffy static prone material that gets shoved down there to equalize the charges between different stages of coil and or gravity mechanism and prevent arcing.
Or the gravity cleanup one that ends up adding a reason for ships needing to have their bottoms cleaned from time to time.
Or the gravity cleanup one that ends up adding a reason for ships needing to have their bottoms cleaned from time to time.
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
You need to sweep the stranglets out before they affect normal matter.
- Location
- Central Standard Time
"Theodoras' Last Tour"
Dust/sand, maybe? It might affect accuracy.
It's not a brush, it's a Loader's Friend, a combination hook, plunger and long stick for dealing with the more unusual ammo types, mostly used for fussing around with the gun when you've loaded multiple munitions into it-or different types of munitions. You can cram a wide variety of things found on battlefields that you shouldn't into a Howitzer, and the whole point of the Friend is to arrange them for best flight, or to yank out something that isn't going to work.
- Location
- Derna
which types of ammunition make the Friend happy and fulfilled tho?
lt kennedy
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
writing is just incredibly difficult right now so have this extremely hasty and poorly done sketch of lieutenant kennedy of the royal artillery
- Location
- Central Standard Time
The floating monocle sells it.
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
it doesn't actually float i just didn't want to draw it on her, but like... show she has it
yes it is a targeting computer monocle lol
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
She's a cute, damn. Good luck with Dora, Kennedy, I believe in you.
writing is just incredibly difficult right now so have this extremely hasty and poorly done sketch of lieutenant kennedy of the royal artillery
- Location
- New York
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The monocle floats Open_Sketch, no take backs! It's too good to give up.
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
But... but the hovering thing is supposed to be new and kinda untested! I would have had candleholders with hover bases so you could leave them near you while you write and such if not!
Fuck... that's really cool though.
... look I'll come back to this later.
I'm terribly sorry about the lack of update so far, by the way. I am trying but I'm feeling incredibly distracted and distressed today for some reason. I will try to get some words to you ASAP.
Fuck... that's really cool though.
... look I'll come back to this later.
I'm terribly sorry about the lack of update so far, by the way. I am trying but I'm feeling incredibly distracted and distressed today for some reason. I will try to get some words to you ASAP.
- Location
- Yes
The sponge and bucket needs to have a bucket involved, for the aesthetic, therefore we can assume that some sort of fluid is necessary for the howitzer. Maybe a lubricant, since we've already done coolants? Or the whole thing is run from a bucket of gravitons dissolved in alcohol or ether or something else appropriately weird.
So it's something that came with the new flying guns then? If Kennedy is suddenly startled, does it sometimes lose track of where her face is and flies off to try and reacquire her?
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
Oh yes, now its perfect.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Gluon grease, for right when the ensigns have caught on to the snipe hunts?
You need to spread those grid squares out evenly once you have a box of 'em after all.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
I mean, if your candlestick hiccups it might light your paper on fire, while if the targeting computer lets out the blue smoke you just fix bayonets and charge the enemy. Everyone knows what's really important, so it'd make perfect sense for the dangerous untested technology to be deployed for targeting computer monocles but not yet for writing implements. Gunner ensigns are much more easily replaced than heartfelt letters to your wife at home.
Chapter 14 - Backstory
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
I took her hand and tried to forget everything else.
"I'd love to." I said. If there was something happening, I couldn't do anything about it now. "Though, quick question, have you any idea how?"
"Not even remotely. I just figured we'd swirl around to the music a bit and figure it out from there." she said cheerfully, and I couldn't argue with that. We stood and headed out, up the massive staircases alongside dozens of guests, and as we cleared the top of the stairs and came through the entrance of the dance hall, we found ourselves looking out through the dome of the palace.
When I'm not on deployment, I've lived most of my life under a dome, the one that covers over Arcturus City. But that dome is mostly invisible, it's just the sky as far as my programming is concerned, and it's artificiality is only revealed from very specific angles or situations. The palace's dome, for all that it was smaller, was daunting in its scale, the coloured glass panels, the hovering chandelier whose core seemed to contain a bonfire, the two viewing levels. There was a scene worked into the marble floor, but it was so large and already so obscured by people moving that it was impossible to work out.
Outside, night had fallen, the sky an endless sea of stars suspended against the Rho Ophiuchi nebula, the starscape pivoting just slightly with the slow rotation of the station. Somewhere, and I couldn't see where, there were musicians preparing their instruments, and though it was tuneless and unstructured just the anticipation of it had me excited.
"... stars, look at those dresses." Bea said, guiding my gaze to a group of young women clustered at the edge of the floor, throwing furtive glances to a group of young men opposite. "Those are artfully done, especially that silver and white one, don't you think?"
"They sure are very… a lot. Sheer. Lower cut that I would have thought… Fashion's changed a bit since last I was here, I think." I said, and she laughed. "I, uh, don't know much about dresses."
"You wouldn't, I suppose. It's true. A few decades ago there was a great affectation of modesty, but things are much more daring now. Which, personally, I'm a fan."
"They're human, Bea, that's weird." I chided, and she shook her head.
"So what? We were made in their image, and it's a good image! Everyone thinks it." she said. The music was starting now, the first notes drifting across the floor, the first dancers moving out into position.
"I don't know if everyone does…" I said, feeling a little self-conscious about some of the thoughts I'd had about a few officers over the years.
"Well, fine, not everyone, but you should see the sales figures on some of my, ahem, books on the subject." she said quietly, then threw her head back in a cheery laugh, "Now, they won't admit it, any of them! Must be why they do so well, makes it forbidden."
"Beatrice, what is it that you write?" I asked, taking her hands. She beamed, and I couldn't help but pull her toward the floor as she responded.
"Romances!"
---
I have learned two things this evening. The first is that I cannot dance. The second is that, two waltzes in, I very much cease to care.
While the music was very light and we were in no way inebriated, we certainly had a pleasant buzz about us, and things rather began to blur at the edges a bit. I recall having to make a great effort not to tread on her feet as we imitated the motions of the human couples around us, and a brief confusion as to which of us ought to take the lead (to be fair, I was the only one confused, Bea very much had a preference). I remember a great many eyes on us, a feeling not unlike waiting in anticipation for the incoming volley, and the music smoothing that feeling out until I could simply laugh it off. Jealousy! They were jealous they weren't like us.
I also remember watching a knot of ensigns cheering on as Kelly nervously crossed the floor to ask a young debutante to dance, and I very, very much remember Beckham getting turned down soon after, Lieutenant Turner laughing at his misfortune. I remember seeing Kennedy standing alone with a glass, looking a little distraught. Last I saw her, she stepped away from a dance midway through the set and disappeared down the stairs. Captain Murray and her husband dancing in slow circles as the evening dragged on, eyes only for each other.
I don't remember what time it was when we stopped dancing and Beatrice took me by the hand out onto the balcony. From the elevated height, we could see the docks radiating out past the station's dome, see ships folding the masts, lights moving about as crews moved goods. A huge second-rate battleship was just pulling in, a swarm of support ships helping guide it into its berth.
I leaned back against the rail and looked up at the dome and the stars beyond, and Beatrice took my hand. Maybe leaned a little close to me. Who cared for propriety? We were already breaking every rule there was just by being here, one more wouldn't hurt.
"This has been a wonderful evening, I think." I said, "It was a bit rough for a while there, but we pulled through."
"I know for certain this is going into a book." she said conspiratorially, giggling a bit to herself. "It was so sweet. You're very nice, you know? I think you do the thing good."
"The thing?" I asked, more than a little confused.
"Blending in among them. I think most machines would be much too nervous for any of this. I certainly was, I had no idea what I was doing!" she said, resting her head against my shoulder. "But you, you're so brave."
"I think you're misremembering." I said. I had been totally useless the whole night. Only her graces got us through any of it.
"I very much am not! I was terrified, I felt so out of place. You just went through with everything, and I knew I could do it as long as I was next to you. I guess that's why you're a soldier. You're fearless."
I had no idea what to say to that, to such unearned praise. I just turned to look at her, just as she leaned close to me. Our foreheads touched, staring into each other's eyes.
"... do you want to take me home?" she asked, and I nodded slowly, still close, still touching. I'd go call us a cab and drop her off, or we could maybe take a nice walk home. That'd be romantic.
"If you're ready to end the night." I said, and she shook her head.
"You misunderstand. I'm asking because I very much am not ready for things to end." she said, eyes dipping bashfully just a moment.
"Oh." I responded nervously. "W-well then… I… should I get a cab?"
---
The late night cab took to the officer's entrance of the base, a direction I'd never entered before but had spent many a long hour on watch. A cheerful Theo on duty came out in his sentry coat, lantern in hand, leaning in to look into the cab.
"Hullo Lieutenant, um… Miss. Have fun at the party?"
"Lovely time, Theo. You drew the short straw, then?" I asked, and he chuckled.
"I volunteered. Like a nice quiet watch. Plenty of leave tomorrow still." he said. "You're not going to show your friend anything secret on the base, are you?"
"I don't think so." I said, and he nodded, waving us through. Remembering the mysterious message to the General, I really hoped he'd get that time.
We were just past the gate when I suddenly remembered all those times I'd obliviously let officers through the gate with friends, taking them fully at their word. My God, my comrades were right all along, I did need to loosen up.
The cart stopped in front of Number 18 and the look on Beatrice's face when she saw it was utterly magnificent, the wide-eyed awe as she took in the scale of the building, somewhere between impressed and baffled.
"How many officers do you share this with?" she asked, and I leaned over conspiratorially.
"None!" I said. "It's entirely too much, to tell the truth. It feels very lonely."
"Well, perhaps I can help?" she replied, leaning close, a hand on my wrist. "Just a bit."
"Aaah…" I fumbled with my keys a moment, having a bit of trouble working out which end was up, perhaps a bit more polluted than I felt after all. I scrabbled at the lock for a moment, until the door beeped and opened from the other side, Miriam standing there with a candle holder and a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, you have a guest." she said flatly, not really a question, just a sort of wry observation. "Well, at least I'm not sneaking them in through the servant's entrance this time."
"Beatrice, date, Miriam, my aide." I said, indicating quickly between them.
"I literally introduced you two." Miriam said, while Bea just laughed.
"R-right. Well, um, terribly sorry to just-"
"Ah! Say no more, miss." Miriam said, finger raised. "I will be out of your hair in just a moment. Lovely to meet you, Bea."
She turned and disappeared up the stairs at a fair clip, and I shrugged, helped Bea with her hat and jacket. She stepped through the door, shaking her head.
"They really have you living like a human, don't that." she said, staring down the hall, "It's absurd."
"It really is. I have a kitchen! And they did give me a cook, though I at least managed to get him reassigned. It's… well, not only is it entirely unnecessary, but it all feels quite unwarranted." I confessed. "I don't really do any more work than I did as a sergeant. Less, sometimes. I feel I've not done anything to earn it."
"Mmhm… how much did that commission run you?" she asked, examining the patterns on the ceiling curiously.
"…seven hundred pounds?" I said, and she laughed.
"Oh yes, quite unwarranted." she teased, "I can definitely understand feeling uncomfortable here, please don't make it worse for yourself. Oh my God, you actually do have a kitchen!"
Unsure what I was doing, really, I walked up behind her as she inspected one of the mysterious kitchen devices and put my arms around her middle, and she let out a pleased little noise and leaned back against me, which made her tallness more than a bit awkward.
"Mmmhm. You know, the tour can wait, I think." she muttered to me, her hands finding mine around her. "Perhaps until tomorrow."
I had not thought much farther ahead than this, so I just nodded and released her, still holding her hand, and we made our way up to the bedroom. As I opened the door, warning Bea not to laugh at the absurd size of the room, I was met with a wash of gentle light in a soft pink. Though Miriam was nowhere to be seen, she had in the scarce moments between my arrival and now set the lighting of the room, turned on the fireplace, and even set some light music going.
"Well, she said she'd be a good candle-manager…" I said quietly, closing the door behind Bea. "So… yeah. They've got me posted up in this hovel, if you can believ-"
She took that moment to push me back up against the door, pressed right up to me, looking me in the eyes. Eager.
"Stop being awkward and get my dress off." she said. "Don't worry about tearing it, I can fix it."
"... right you are."
---
I did manage not to tear her dress, fortunately. And of the experience itself, well, suffice to say I had no earthly idea what I was doing and she was so very, very patient with me, which was nice. And I suspect she may have been concealing her actual desires for the night some, which honestly I am thankful for. It was already rather overwhelming.
As it had for the rest of the evening, the music helped a great deal in smoothing things over. Making me feel a bit less awkward. A bit. Having to figure out how to shut it off afterward while trying not to fall over was an adventure, though.
We discovered in the aftermath that somebody had thoughtfully left a second power cable on the bedside table, and we spent a while just close to each other, hands running idly over each other, talking about nothing. Despite the late hour, I found I had little desire to sleep.
"Look at us. All this bed and we're using so little of it." I joked, and she playfully shoved me over. Or, well, she tried, and succeeded only in shifting herself a ways before pulling herself back desperately.
"Well that didn't work. They sure built you sturdy." she joked, tapping the steel plating along my arm with a series of amusing pings. "Surprised you didn't get a more thorough overhaul than just the face, though. What's this?"
She indicated to a pit in my bicep, and I wracked my memory trying to remember.
"Aaah… I think that one was a micromissile. Yes, one of my early deployments, there were these overgrown pillboxes out in the jungle and we were trying to cut a path through. They were ancient, somebody said they were some twenty million years old. Survived all that time, could hardly scratch us." I explained.
"Wow. And the ones on your face?"
"Ever heard of an arachnoform?" I asked, and she shook her head, "Well, good. They're these awful big insects we keep finding all around the coreward frontier. Big as a wolf, twice as fast, and they can claw through anything given time. One of them took a good swipe at my face, even while me and three of my mates had our bayonets through it."
"Did it hurt?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"Only for a moment." I said dismissively. "It's just surface scratches."
"And… the one on your leg?" she said, her hand tracking down my thigh."
"Um… a thermal lance. It's a sort of superheated railgun, as I understand it. Fires transmutative heavy elements forged into a needle, hot as the sun. Funnily enough, I didn't notice that one as it happened, somebody else had to point it out to me."
"Stars…" she said, tracing it. "I can't imagine. You've been through so much."
"It's spread out over a few decades, not so bad." I said. "I'm lucky."
"Lucky." she said, tapping my nose with a finger. "You downplay yourself so much, you know that? I don't deserve, I don't know how, I'm just lucky..."
Her accent shifted again, and she propped herself up to lean over me, concern in her eyes. Feeling a little strange, not exactly liking being an object of pity, I seized the chance to pull her closer, feeling a bit of confidence return with the assertiveness.
"Perhaps not all luck..." I said suggestively, and I watched with amusement as she shivered, her cheeks glowing bright pink.
"Oooh. Well then…" she whispered, "What's this?"
"Seizing the initiative?" I suggested, and we both broke down into stupid laughter. It wasn't quite that funny, but we were quite that drunk. "So do you think this will make one of your books?"
"Mhmmm… perhaps. You never know! Nor do I, until I write it." she said. "Again, though, why'd you just touch up your face and leave the rest of you all beat to hell?"
"Well, you see, I am very broke right now." I said, leaning back to the bed and pulling her against my chest. "I spent every penny I had on the commission, the uniform, the boots… those boots literally cost me a year of my life. They are very nice boots, mind, but-"
"Ah! I thought you were making some kind of statement. Poetic or something, but that makes a lot more sense. So you going to start fixing up everything else?" she asked.
"I think so. I need new plating most everywhere, and new eyes for sure. Couple of joints could use replacements, I'd love some of those new capacitors, and I really ought to do something about the actuators in my fingers…"
"Oh, I thought they did fine." she said, and I was suddenly very glad I couldn't blush like she could.
"Aa-h, yes, well, they tend to get jittery when I'm writing, and paperwork is far more a part of my job now. And, uh…" Very, very glad, "I think I'd like to get some of those, um, upgrades, when I can. They seem a great deal of fun."
"Oooh… I was wondering about that. Too busy saving?" she asked.
"Yes. Installations of such… improvements, are also a bit of a hassle, according to my old comrades. The regimental engineer makes a pretty penny, um, enhancing soldiers on the side, because nobody else has the heavy equipment to… well, you know, rearrange armour plating and such." I said, trying my level best not to let the apprehension I felt even talking about such things creep into my voice. I apparently didn't do a good job, because she started giggling midway through my sentence.
"You sure do talk around this a lot. I thought you soldiers were supposed to be all foul-mouthed, and here you've managed to use euphemisms I wouldn't have even thought of. And I write about this for a living." she joked.
"Well… I've done my best to clamp down on that sort of thing in my speech. Officer's ought not talk that way." I said awkwardly. "Should sound a bit more refined."
"That's why you sound like that! You're actually trying to talk like a human, oh stars!" she said, "I thought, wow, she sounds sort of posh for a Dora, but I figured I was just imagining it. That's adorable!"
"Adore- come now, that's not fair. I'm trying my best." I protested, and pressed herself close to my cheek, as close to a kiss as we could accomplish.
"Don't worry, I think that's why I like you." she said. "You try very hard."
"Thank you?"
"So, you've got quite the overhaul ahead of you. I'm surprised you've been able to walk around with your back in that state! Um… what happened there, anyway?"
I winced.
"I try not to think about it." I said, looking to her. She looked curious for a second, but then nodded.
"Fair enough. And it is two in the morning… we should probably sleep." she said, settling back against me. "Plug me in?"
I arranged the wires so they wouldn't get tangled up in the night, plugging us into the newly installed outlet, artfully blending into the molding.
"Night, Bea." I muttered, laying against the soft pillow.
"Night, lieutenant. Hehe."
----
"I'd love to." I said. If there was something happening, I couldn't do anything about it now. "Though, quick question, have you any idea how?"
"Not even remotely. I just figured we'd swirl around to the music a bit and figure it out from there." she said cheerfully, and I couldn't argue with that. We stood and headed out, up the massive staircases alongside dozens of guests, and as we cleared the top of the stairs and came through the entrance of the dance hall, we found ourselves looking out through the dome of the palace.
When I'm not on deployment, I've lived most of my life under a dome, the one that covers over Arcturus City. But that dome is mostly invisible, it's just the sky as far as my programming is concerned, and it's artificiality is only revealed from very specific angles or situations. The palace's dome, for all that it was smaller, was daunting in its scale, the coloured glass panels, the hovering chandelier whose core seemed to contain a bonfire, the two viewing levels. There was a scene worked into the marble floor, but it was so large and already so obscured by people moving that it was impossible to work out.
Outside, night had fallen, the sky an endless sea of stars suspended against the Rho Ophiuchi nebula, the starscape pivoting just slightly with the slow rotation of the station. Somewhere, and I couldn't see where, there were musicians preparing their instruments, and though it was tuneless and unstructured just the anticipation of it had me excited.
"... stars, look at those dresses." Bea said, guiding my gaze to a group of young women clustered at the edge of the floor, throwing furtive glances to a group of young men opposite. "Those are artfully done, especially that silver and white one, don't you think?"
"They sure are very… a lot. Sheer. Lower cut that I would have thought… Fashion's changed a bit since last I was here, I think." I said, and she laughed. "I, uh, don't know much about dresses."
"You wouldn't, I suppose. It's true. A few decades ago there was a great affectation of modesty, but things are much more daring now. Which, personally, I'm a fan."
"They're human, Bea, that's weird." I chided, and she shook her head.
"So what? We were made in their image, and it's a good image! Everyone thinks it." she said. The music was starting now, the first notes drifting across the floor, the first dancers moving out into position.
"I don't know if everyone does…" I said, feeling a little self-conscious about some of the thoughts I'd had about a few officers over the years.
"Well, fine, not everyone, but you should see the sales figures on some of my, ahem, books on the subject." she said quietly, then threw her head back in a cheery laugh, "Now, they won't admit it, any of them! Must be why they do so well, makes it forbidden."
"Beatrice, what is it that you write?" I asked, taking her hands. She beamed, and I couldn't help but pull her toward the floor as she responded.
"Romances!"
---
I have learned two things this evening. The first is that I cannot dance. The second is that, two waltzes in, I very much cease to care.
While the music was very light and we were in no way inebriated, we certainly had a pleasant buzz about us, and things rather began to blur at the edges a bit. I recall having to make a great effort not to tread on her feet as we imitated the motions of the human couples around us, and a brief confusion as to which of us ought to take the lead (to be fair, I was the only one confused, Bea very much had a preference). I remember a great many eyes on us, a feeling not unlike waiting in anticipation for the incoming volley, and the music smoothing that feeling out until I could simply laugh it off. Jealousy! They were jealous they weren't like us.
I also remember watching a knot of ensigns cheering on as Kelly nervously crossed the floor to ask a young debutante to dance, and I very, very much remember Beckham getting turned down soon after, Lieutenant Turner laughing at his misfortune. I remember seeing Kennedy standing alone with a glass, looking a little distraught. Last I saw her, she stepped away from a dance midway through the set and disappeared down the stairs. Captain Murray and her husband dancing in slow circles as the evening dragged on, eyes only for each other.
I don't remember what time it was when we stopped dancing and Beatrice took me by the hand out onto the balcony. From the elevated height, we could see the docks radiating out past the station's dome, see ships folding the masts, lights moving about as crews moved goods. A huge second-rate battleship was just pulling in, a swarm of support ships helping guide it into its berth.
I leaned back against the rail and looked up at the dome and the stars beyond, and Beatrice took my hand. Maybe leaned a little close to me. Who cared for propriety? We were already breaking every rule there was just by being here, one more wouldn't hurt.
"This has been a wonderful evening, I think." I said, "It was a bit rough for a while there, but we pulled through."
"I know for certain this is going into a book." she said conspiratorially, giggling a bit to herself. "It was so sweet. You're very nice, you know? I think you do the thing good."
"The thing?" I asked, more than a little confused.
"Blending in among them. I think most machines would be much too nervous for any of this. I certainly was, I had no idea what I was doing!" she said, resting her head against my shoulder. "But you, you're so brave."
"I think you're misremembering." I said. I had been totally useless the whole night. Only her graces got us through any of it.
"I very much am not! I was terrified, I felt so out of place. You just went through with everything, and I knew I could do it as long as I was next to you. I guess that's why you're a soldier. You're fearless."
I had no idea what to say to that, to such unearned praise. I just turned to look at her, just as she leaned close to me. Our foreheads touched, staring into each other's eyes.
"... do you want to take me home?" she asked, and I nodded slowly, still close, still touching. I'd go call us a cab and drop her off, or we could maybe take a nice walk home. That'd be romantic.
"If you're ready to end the night." I said, and she shook her head.
"You misunderstand. I'm asking because I very much am not ready for things to end." she said, eyes dipping bashfully just a moment.
"Oh." I responded nervously. "W-well then… I… should I get a cab?"
---
The late night cab took to the officer's entrance of the base, a direction I'd never entered before but had spent many a long hour on watch. A cheerful Theo on duty came out in his sentry coat, lantern in hand, leaning in to look into the cab.
"Hullo Lieutenant, um… Miss. Have fun at the party?"
"Lovely time, Theo. You drew the short straw, then?" I asked, and he chuckled.
"I volunteered. Like a nice quiet watch. Plenty of leave tomorrow still." he said. "You're not going to show your friend anything secret on the base, are you?"
"I don't think so." I said, and he nodded, waving us through. Remembering the mysterious message to the General, I really hoped he'd get that time.
We were just past the gate when I suddenly remembered all those times I'd obliviously let officers through the gate with friends, taking them fully at their word. My God, my comrades were right all along, I did need to loosen up.
The cart stopped in front of Number 18 and the look on Beatrice's face when she saw it was utterly magnificent, the wide-eyed awe as she took in the scale of the building, somewhere between impressed and baffled.
"How many officers do you share this with?" she asked, and I leaned over conspiratorially.
"None!" I said. "It's entirely too much, to tell the truth. It feels very lonely."
"Well, perhaps I can help?" she replied, leaning close, a hand on my wrist. "Just a bit."
"Aaah…" I fumbled with my keys a moment, having a bit of trouble working out which end was up, perhaps a bit more polluted than I felt after all. I scrabbled at the lock for a moment, until the door beeped and opened from the other side, Miriam standing there with a candle holder and a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, you have a guest." she said flatly, not really a question, just a sort of wry observation. "Well, at least I'm not sneaking them in through the servant's entrance this time."
"Beatrice, date, Miriam, my aide." I said, indicating quickly between them.
"I literally introduced you two." Miriam said, while Bea just laughed.
"R-right. Well, um, terribly sorry to just-"
"Ah! Say no more, miss." Miriam said, finger raised. "I will be out of your hair in just a moment. Lovely to meet you, Bea."
She turned and disappeared up the stairs at a fair clip, and I shrugged, helped Bea with her hat and jacket. She stepped through the door, shaking her head.
"They really have you living like a human, don't that." she said, staring down the hall, "It's absurd."
"It really is. I have a kitchen! And they did give me a cook, though I at least managed to get him reassigned. It's… well, not only is it entirely unnecessary, but it all feels quite unwarranted." I confessed. "I don't really do any more work than I did as a sergeant. Less, sometimes. I feel I've not done anything to earn it."
"Mmhm… how much did that commission run you?" she asked, examining the patterns on the ceiling curiously.
"…seven hundred pounds?" I said, and she laughed.
"Oh yes, quite unwarranted." she teased, "I can definitely understand feeling uncomfortable here, please don't make it worse for yourself. Oh my God, you actually do have a kitchen!"
Unsure what I was doing, really, I walked up behind her as she inspected one of the mysterious kitchen devices and put my arms around her middle, and she let out a pleased little noise and leaned back against me, which made her tallness more than a bit awkward.
"Mmmhm. You know, the tour can wait, I think." she muttered to me, her hands finding mine around her. "Perhaps until tomorrow."
I had not thought much farther ahead than this, so I just nodded and released her, still holding her hand, and we made our way up to the bedroom. As I opened the door, warning Bea not to laugh at the absurd size of the room, I was met with a wash of gentle light in a soft pink. Though Miriam was nowhere to be seen, she had in the scarce moments between my arrival and now set the lighting of the room, turned on the fireplace, and even set some light music going.
"Well, she said she'd be a good candle-manager…" I said quietly, closing the door behind Bea. "So… yeah. They've got me posted up in this hovel, if you can believ-"
She took that moment to push me back up against the door, pressed right up to me, looking me in the eyes. Eager.
"Stop being awkward and get my dress off." she said. "Don't worry about tearing it, I can fix it."
"... right you are."
---
I did manage not to tear her dress, fortunately. And of the experience itself, well, suffice to say I had no earthly idea what I was doing and she was so very, very patient with me, which was nice. And I suspect she may have been concealing her actual desires for the night some, which honestly I am thankful for. It was already rather overwhelming.
As it had for the rest of the evening, the music helped a great deal in smoothing things over. Making me feel a bit less awkward. A bit. Having to figure out how to shut it off afterward while trying not to fall over was an adventure, though.
We discovered in the aftermath that somebody had thoughtfully left a second power cable on the bedside table, and we spent a while just close to each other, hands running idly over each other, talking about nothing. Despite the late hour, I found I had little desire to sleep.
"Look at us. All this bed and we're using so little of it." I joked, and she playfully shoved me over. Or, well, she tried, and succeeded only in shifting herself a ways before pulling herself back desperately.
"Well that didn't work. They sure built you sturdy." she joked, tapping the steel plating along my arm with a series of amusing pings. "Surprised you didn't get a more thorough overhaul than just the face, though. What's this?"
She indicated to a pit in my bicep, and I wracked my memory trying to remember.
"Aaah… I think that one was a micromissile. Yes, one of my early deployments, there were these overgrown pillboxes out in the jungle and we were trying to cut a path through. They were ancient, somebody said they were some twenty million years old. Survived all that time, could hardly scratch us." I explained.
"Wow. And the ones on your face?"
"Ever heard of an arachnoform?" I asked, and she shook her head, "Well, good. They're these awful big insects we keep finding all around the coreward frontier. Big as a wolf, twice as fast, and they can claw through anything given time. One of them took a good swipe at my face, even while me and three of my mates had our bayonets through it."
"Did it hurt?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"Only for a moment." I said dismissively. "It's just surface scratches."
"And… the one on your leg?" she said, her hand tracking down my thigh."
"Um… a thermal lance. It's a sort of superheated railgun, as I understand it. Fires transmutative heavy elements forged into a needle, hot as the sun. Funnily enough, I didn't notice that one as it happened, somebody else had to point it out to me."
"Stars…" she said, tracing it. "I can't imagine. You've been through so much."
"It's spread out over a few decades, not so bad." I said. "I'm lucky."
"Lucky." she said, tapping my nose with a finger. "You downplay yourself so much, you know that? I don't deserve, I don't know how, I'm just lucky..."
Her accent shifted again, and she propped herself up to lean over me, concern in her eyes. Feeling a little strange, not exactly liking being an object of pity, I seized the chance to pull her closer, feeling a bit of confidence return with the assertiveness.
"Perhaps not all luck..." I said suggestively, and I watched with amusement as she shivered, her cheeks glowing bright pink.
"Oooh. Well then…" she whispered, "What's this?"
"Seizing the initiative?" I suggested, and we both broke down into stupid laughter. It wasn't quite that funny, but we were quite that drunk. "So do you think this will make one of your books?"
"Mhmmm… perhaps. You never know! Nor do I, until I write it." she said. "Again, though, why'd you just touch up your face and leave the rest of you all beat to hell?"
"Well, you see, I am very broke right now." I said, leaning back to the bed and pulling her against my chest. "I spent every penny I had on the commission, the uniform, the boots… those boots literally cost me a year of my life. They are very nice boots, mind, but-"
"Ah! I thought you were making some kind of statement. Poetic or something, but that makes a lot more sense. So you going to start fixing up everything else?" she asked.
"I think so. I need new plating most everywhere, and new eyes for sure. Couple of joints could use replacements, I'd love some of those new capacitors, and I really ought to do something about the actuators in my fingers…"
"Oh, I thought they did fine." she said, and I was suddenly very glad I couldn't blush like she could.
"Aa-h, yes, well, they tend to get jittery when I'm writing, and paperwork is far more a part of my job now. And, uh…" Very, very glad, "I think I'd like to get some of those, um, upgrades, when I can. They seem a great deal of fun."
"Oooh… I was wondering about that. Too busy saving?" she asked.
"Yes. Installations of such… improvements, are also a bit of a hassle, according to my old comrades. The regimental engineer makes a pretty penny, um, enhancing soldiers on the side, because nobody else has the heavy equipment to… well, you know, rearrange armour plating and such." I said, trying my level best not to let the apprehension I felt even talking about such things creep into my voice. I apparently didn't do a good job, because she started giggling midway through my sentence.
"You sure do talk around this a lot. I thought you soldiers were supposed to be all foul-mouthed, and here you've managed to use euphemisms I wouldn't have even thought of. And I write about this for a living." she joked.
"Well… I've done my best to clamp down on that sort of thing in my speech. Officer's ought not talk that way." I said awkwardly. "Should sound a bit more refined."
"That's why you sound like that! You're actually trying to talk like a human, oh stars!" she said, "I thought, wow, she sounds sort of posh for a Dora, but I figured I was just imagining it. That's adorable!"
"Adore- come now, that's not fair. I'm trying my best." I protested, and pressed herself close to my cheek, as close to a kiss as we could accomplish.
"Don't worry, I think that's why I like you." she said. "You try very hard."
"Thank you?"
"So, you've got quite the overhaul ahead of you. I'm surprised you've been able to walk around with your back in that state! Um… what happened there, anyway?"
I winced.
"I try not to think about it." I said, looking to her. She looked curious for a second, but then nodded.
"Fair enough. And it is two in the morning… we should probably sleep." she said, settling back against me. "Plug me in?"
I arranged the wires so they wouldn't get tangled up in the night, plugging us into the newly installed outlet, artfully blending into the molding.
"Night, Bea." I muttered, laying against the soft pillow.
"Night, lieutenant. Hehe."
----
"Come on, close up, close up! Don't leave gaps!"
I shuffled over dutifully, trying to keep my shoulders square to the enemy. Lieutenant Winters leaned out to get a better view, pointing his pistol and clicking it. Rather than a crack and burst of coolant, there was just a flash of red light that danced against the rocky edge of a crater, the one that kept pulsing with smoke and dust.
"Sergeant! I want continuous fire on that ridge, on the double! Suppress those guns!" he called, and I winced, wishing I was closer so I could push him back behind cover. Marking the target was brave of him, but I couldn't help but feel the clarity wasn't worth the risk.
I nearly tripped on something, stepping over, and I glanced down for just a moment to see it was a Dora from B section, lights out, blank screens lifelessly up at the stars. She had a canyon through her head from a thermal lance, so intense the metal had run down her face like tears.
I tried not to think about it.
I pulled my weapon to my shoulder as the sergeant called out the new targets, the holographic crosshairs falling naturally over the ridge. At this range, the blast would disperse too much to take them down, but it could blind sensors, kick up dirt, even damage guns if we were lucky. All it needed to do was slow their fire to relieve 6th company so their formation didn't break down.
In front of the ridge, were their skirmishers, tetrapedal machines pressed low, spread out, trying to avoid our fire and returning in kind. Most of it was ineffectual at this range, I didn't even flinch as a railgun needle glanced off my forearm. But sometimes, they managed to get a shot off with a thermal lance, and they'd go right through us like we were made of paper. Or a plasma gun, but they didn't kill, they just left a machine struggling in the dirt with their joints fused.
I tried not to think about it.
"A section! Fast cycles on the red marker, fire at will!" Sergeant Teo called, and I flipped the selector down to twenty percent and pulled the trigger. The weapon hissed and snapped alongside nearly forty others, and the ridge downrange burst apart in sheets of dust and molten rock which hung unnaturally in the low gravity. The guns there fell silent a moment, and I could see some of their barrels retracting, pointing away from 6th company.
A second and a half later, I pulled the trigger again, not even needing to check the charge light, and more blasts scoured the ridge, growing less and less synchronized with each triggerpull. The whole time, I was well aware that the skirmishers would be using this chance to stop moving and aim at us, I could even see one of the little tetrapodal automatons lifting its lance to line up a shot.
I tried not to think about it.
"Hold fire, hold fire! The dragoons are moving in!" the lieutenant called, and the order was echoed. I suddenly realized I was standing right in front of him, and he was so close I could hear the speaker in his earpiece, Captain Harrison saying something. I took the chance now to discard a cooling rod, pulling it from the chamber with a quick motion, tossing the red-hot metal out in front of me and sliding another home.
"Sergeant, we need to clear those skirmishers now while the guns are down. A charge." the lieutenant was saying, and I could hear him drawing his sword.
"A section! Activate bayonets!" Sergeant Teo ordered, and I thumbed the switch, the white-hot point of dancing energy flaring into existence at the end of my musket. "Forward, double march!"
I could hear the metronome ticks in my head, matching them with each measured footfall as we pressed forward. The lieutenant was right behind me, his sword glowing so bright it cast my shadow out in front of me, ringed in blue light. I locked my eyes on the nearly skirmisher, the hunched automaton rapidly backpeddling as it realized how exposed it was.
I saw them moving the barrel back up over the ridge towards us even as the dragoons pressed home. I saw the glow building in its barrel. There was a flash, so close to me I swore I heard it, even muted in the thin atmosphere. Heard it clang off something, maybe the machine behind me.
I tried not to think about it.
We pressed ahead, breaking into a run. One of the skirmishing machines was charging up for another shot, and I pulled ahead, as fast as I could, throwing myself into it. The weapon discharged uselessly into the starry sky as I reared back my weapon and attempted to plant it through the sensory hub, wincing as one of its loading claws punched through the plates at my side. Just superficial, nothing damaged.
I turned my musket to maximum power and fired near to point blank, and the metal of the invader's hide blew apart in a spray of orange sparks. It collapsed, writhing hard, throwing me back away from the line. In the lowered gravity, I must have flown forty paces or more, tumbling against the regolith, struggling to find my footing. My tricorn and cartridge belt were lost, somewhere, my musket nowhere to be seen. I desperately tried to clear the ionized dust from my cameras, pulling a rag from my pocket, the one I used to clean my musket. When it was clear, I could see the line, the 4th company smashing through the skirmishing machines with ease.
Lieutenant Winters was at the fore, his shield flaring a moment as it turned away a blast of plasma before he stepped into the guard of the invader in front of him. His sword flashed, its leg coming away in a blaze of light, before he reversed through its midsection. Something, some part of its power cells or something, caught, and the machine burst with light and flameless heat, scrabbling against the ground before the Lieutenant finished it with a blast from his pistol.
"Come on, forward! We're on their flank!" I heard him shout, his voice only just carrying on the thin air, and I started back toward him just as I felt the ground shaking. He was running ahead, his sword flashing green and yellow to advance, his face triumphant behind his breathing mask. Then, before I could make it another step, the ground under our feet broke apart. A rush of shadows emerging from the rent in the earth.
I realized with horror the skirmishers were just bait, to lure us to the hidden mouths of tunnels under the lunar soil.
We didn't stand a chance. The invaders emerged into our line while we were still redressing it, their weapons firing before ours could be leveled. All around me was chaos, machines and invaders grappling, tumbling against the soil, weapons and bayonets flashing. Captain Harrison's sword above the melee, flashing white-green-blue, retreat in good order.
And there was Lieutenant Winters, sprawled out on the ground. His coat, so perfect this morning, stained black.
I don't know what came over me, but I made a run for it. Dodged between the combatants, something glancing off my head, I threw myself forward to the man and scooped him up in my arms. He was just lucid enough to grip at my collar, his face pale behind the mask, eyes wide. The line was falling apart, but I could see our reserves coming, another line in red speeding to our aid. I just had to get there, through the bolts of plasma that burst at my heels, sending bits of instantly-formed glass pattering off my skin.
I knew it was just the lower gravity, but he felt so light. So small.
I made it perhaps a dozen paces when I realized something was wrong, a feeling of unbearable heat washing over me. I made it perhaps two or three more before my legs simply wouldn't go any more and I felt myself falling. A pain crawling across me from the small of my back, smoke wreathing us both as I collapsed to my knees.
I tried to force myself back up, just a bit further. I tried to shield him as best I could. I even tried to hold his lifeless body, to shield it as the reserves pushed past me to form a wall, officers rushing to the side of their fallen comrade. I remember them pulling him from my grasp, and a corporal holding me down, telling me to wait, the trauma mechanic was coming, I'd done all I could.
I wanted to ask if the lieutenant was alright. I wanted to know. But I already did.
I tried not to think about it.
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- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Oh she's so adorable!! I love her!
Fuck. Stab me in the heart.
- Location
- Before the Ninth Gate
Oof. That hit home, the heroism just not being enough. I really like what you've done with the characters here!
- Location
- Washington DC
That was...quite an updoot. Adorable robot lesbians being adorable, and then...oof. That was a great combat scene! Just...very emotional ending.
Mechanically great scene, too. Show us some of how the setting works, show us how our POV character feels about it, give us hints as to her motivation, give us a preview of combat scenes to come...that dream did a lot of narrative heavy lifting in a pretty tight package. Very well done!
Mechanically great scene, too. Show us some of how the setting works, show us how our POV character feels about it, give us hints as to her motivation, give us a preview of combat scenes to come...that dream did a lot of narrative heavy lifting in a pretty tight package. Very well done!