Lieutenant Fusilier in The Farthest Reaches
- Thread starter open_sketch
- Start date
- Original Mature
- Pronouns
- He/Him
In the other story in the
verse I remember there being a trans 'bot. Given that that indicates gender isn't hard-coded (and sex, as much as a robot has a sex, can be swapped) a non-binary bot seems within the realm of possibility. Seems like figuring out a name would be a smidge difficult.
I have no idea if robots' operating systems are based in binary ones and zeroes or something else suitably Victorian-chic.
edit: dug up this post:Maid to Love You - A Clockwork Romance Original - Mature
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- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
i'm certain there are thembots, just haven't gotten around to it yet.
if the two ever met they would likely merge into a single super being through cold welding whose sass levels would tear a hole through time and space.
no lie, i was on call with @Jeboboid today when i suddenly blurted out "oh my god he's straight Heinrich!" so there's your answer.Beckham is space!future!regency!Hienrich, isn't he?
if the two ever met they would likely merge into a single super being through cold welding whose sass levels would tear a hole through time and space.
i may have a beckham backstory kicking around someplace yes... maybe i should post it....
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
I vote let it come up IC! More character development and fun scenes that way.
Wow, Dora really is terrible at poker.
Dora is so pure.
Do the robots have stun rifles, is there a "stun" setting on their muskets, or do they all have stun pistols as sidearms?
Also, it occurs to me that Miriam looked like she was carrying something in a holster. Standard laser pistol like an officer, artillerist, or rear-echelon unit would carry? Stunner for base? Actually a very small club with which to whap misbehaving lieutenants over the head?
Huh, robots have the night-vision adaptation time thing? Interesting. Suggests photochemical sensors in their eyes. Or they're intentionally emulating human vision? Interesting.
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Mile Beckham’s Revelation
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
"I know space is big and all, and we're moving across it at millions of miles a minute, but we're still moving too bloody slow for my liking." Miles complained, staring listlessly out the window.
"Come off it, old boy, watching the stars won't make them go by any quicker." Harry replied, tapping his thumbs against the table. "I can't believe you got leave this long. The 7th doesn't do anything, but it always seems like you're somewhere."
"Not much for a nineteen year old ensign to do. This journey's not much different than my duties." Miles replied, tipping back his bottle. "... I'm going for a walk."
"Do try not to get lost." Harry chided, and Miles pushed open the door to the sitting room.
Other than an old woman who sat in her cabin, the first class accommodations of the Nebular Odyssey, the mid sized liner spiriting Miles Beckham out to his old friend Harry's family hunting estate, were empty of human habitation. Nobody to talk to but his friend, which was great except the six day journey had become twelve due to terrible solar winds, and frankly Miles needed a break.
With nobody else to talk to, he opened the hatch and descended a level to the second class passenger halls. Everything here seemed smaller and more narrow, but it wasn't crowded like he suspected. The halls were empty.
He stalked to the front of the ship and staggered through a door there, swaying a bit. A fortifying sip of his brandy took the edge off as he looked around the machine equivalent of the ship's bar, a half a dozen patrons sitting around listening to music to pass the time.
"Excuse me, sir, I think you'd be better served upstairs." the bartender(?) said, and Beckham signed 'i'm fine' and sat down at a nearby table with his bottle, peering curiously over the distractions there. The attendant shrugged and went about his mysterious machine business, leaving Miles to his chess game against himself.
"It looks like you're losing." a feminine voice said. Beckham glanced up, expecting a woman, but saw a machine instead. He was almost disappointed when he checked again: an awfully woman-like machine, staring over a pair of small oval glasses with big, smiling eyes, hair arranged in a tumble of green anodized wires, a cute heart shaped face rendered in white glass.
… it was day seven on the ship and he was deep enough into his brandy. That was a woman.
"Hallo there dear. How's the evening finding you?" he asked, giving his best charming smile. She laughed softly, leaning a little closer.
"Better than you, I imagine. Bored out of my mind, though." she responded, It was a little disconcerting to not see her mouth move as she spoke, but not too much so.
"I can only agree." Miles responded, "Out of my bloody skull. Miles Beckham."
"Sara." she responded. Why was she looking at him like that?
"What sort of machine are you? Can't say I know much… much of anything, right now?" Miles said, and she just shook her head.
"I'm a secretary. I'm heading to a new job, obviously I was supposed to start today but apparently not. It's driving me a bit to distraction." she said, her hand reaching a bit across the table.
"... are you perhaps looking for a human to give you something to do?" Miles asked, a bit concerned, yet excited by the possibility. "Well… I may have a job perfect for a machine such as yourself."
—-
Exactly how it got from there to her cabin, a tiny space with room enough for a bed and nothing else, Miles was never quite sure. But suddenly he was on his back and her shirt was off and she was straddling him, grinding against him, plucking the bottle from his hand and placing it carefully on a shelf embedded in the wall.
"My stars, lookit those." Miles slurred, staring transfixed at her chest as she leaned over to undo his buttons. "Brilliant craftsmanship, I must say…"
"You are hilarious. And… of my god, look at those abs… what do you do again?"
"Ah, well, you'll never believe it, but…"
Miles would later think of this moment as the only time being in the Coldstream Guard seemed to impress a woman. It certainly seemed to accelerate the process of her skirts leaving her body.
"... and lookit that. So that's what those look like." Miles said, grinning blankly. "I guess I'm finding out second hand."
"... oh my God, are you a virgin?" Sara said, running her finger down the man's chest. "I can't believe it."
"I've never been near a woman who hasn't been chaperoned about, of course I am!" he protested, and she just shook her head sadly.
"A shame, we're so awful to you humans, I swear." she said casually.
In that instant, Miles had a brief moment of horrid, lucid clarity as he realized he and his entire species were essentially obsolete, kept as amusing pets by the immortal mechanical replacements they had built who had hijacked civilization. His drunken brain grasped the shape of society with an rare and perfect understanding, the revelation feeling equally like genius and madness, a truth more true than truth. The fiction of his entire privileged life and all its gilded trappings was laid forth before him as the existential cosmic joke it truly was, a puppet king on a throne of lies, and he realized how utterly pointless it all was.
But then the machine lady touched his penis and it was fine, actually.
"Come off it, old boy, watching the stars won't make them go by any quicker." Harry replied, tapping his thumbs against the table. "I can't believe you got leave this long. The 7th doesn't do anything, but it always seems like you're somewhere."
"Not much for a nineteen year old ensign to do. This journey's not much different than my duties." Miles replied, tipping back his bottle. "... I'm going for a walk."
"Do try not to get lost." Harry chided, and Miles pushed open the door to the sitting room.
Other than an old woman who sat in her cabin, the first class accommodations of the Nebular Odyssey, the mid sized liner spiriting Miles Beckham out to his old friend Harry's family hunting estate, were empty of human habitation. Nobody to talk to but his friend, which was great except the six day journey had become twelve due to terrible solar winds, and frankly Miles needed a break.
With nobody else to talk to, he opened the hatch and descended a level to the second class passenger halls. Everything here seemed smaller and more narrow, but it wasn't crowded like he suspected. The halls were empty.
He stalked to the front of the ship and staggered through a door there, swaying a bit. A fortifying sip of his brandy took the edge off as he looked around the machine equivalent of the ship's bar, a half a dozen patrons sitting around listening to music to pass the time.
"Excuse me, sir, I think you'd be better served upstairs." the bartender(?) said, and Beckham signed 'i'm fine' and sat down at a nearby table with his bottle, peering curiously over the distractions there. The attendant shrugged and went about his mysterious machine business, leaving Miles to his chess game against himself.
"It looks like you're losing." a feminine voice said. Beckham glanced up, expecting a woman, but saw a machine instead. He was almost disappointed when he checked again: an awfully woman-like machine, staring over a pair of small oval glasses with big, smiling eyes, hair arranged in a tumble of green anodized wires, a cute heart shaped face rendered in white glass.
… it was day seven on the ship and he was deep enough into his brandy. That was a woman.
"Hallo there dear. How's the evening finding you?" he asked, giving his best charming smile. She laughed softly, leaning a little closer.
"Better than you, I imagine. Bored out of my mind, though." she responded, It was a little disconcerting to not see her mouth move as she spoke, but not too much so.
"I can only agree." Miles responded, "Out of my bloody skull. Miles Beckham."
"Sara." she responded. Why was she looking at him like that?
"What sort of machine are you? Can't say I know much… much of anything, right now?" Miles said, and she just shook her head.
"I'm a secretary. I'm heading to a new job, obviously I was supposed to start today but apparently not. It's driving me a bit to distraction." she said, her hand reaching a bit across the table.
"... are you perhaps looking for a human to give you something to do?" Miles asked, a bit concerned, yet excited by the possibility. "Well… I may have a job perfect for a machine such as yourself."
—-
Exactly how it got from there to her cabin, a tiny space with room enough for a bed and nothing else, Miles was never quite sure. But suddenly he was on his back and her shirt was off and she was straddling him, grinding against him, plucking the bottle from his hand and placing it carefully on a shelf embedded in the wall.
"My stars, lookit those." Miles slurred, staring transfixed at her chest as she leaned over to undo his buttons. "Brilliant craftsmanship, I must say…"
"You are hilarious. And… of my god, look at those abs… what do you do again?"
"Ah, well, you'll never believe it, but…"
Miles would later think of this moment as the only time being in the Coldstream Guard seemed to impress a woman. It certainly seemed to accelerate the process of her skirts leaving her body.
"... and lookit that. So that's what those look like." Miles said, grinning blankly. "I guess I'm finding out second hand."
"... oh my God, are you a virgin?" Sara said, running her finger down the man's chest. "I can't believe it."
"I've never been near a woman who hasn't been chaperoned about, of course I am!" he protested, and she just shook her head sadly.
"A shame, we're so awful to you humans, I swear." she said casually.
In that instant, Miles had a brief moment of horrid, lucid clarity as he realized he and his entire species were essentially obsolete, kept as amusing pets by the immortal mechanical replacements they had built who had hijacked civilization. His drunken brain grasped the shape of society with an rare and perfect understanding, the revelation feeling equally like genius and madness, a truth more true than truth. The fiction of his entire privileged life and all its gilded trappings was laid forth before him as the existential cosmic joke it truly was, a puppet king on a throne of lies, and he realized how utterly pointless it all was.
But then the machine lady touched his penis and it was fine, actually.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
"Although the Qing Emperor, like all institutions of such longevity, had eons since been deprived of power, the Imperial Court was never about to let something so minor as its utter obsolescence get in the way of its ambitions. The 'tributary planets' claimed on behalf of the Qing Empire and the Five Nations are as vast as the claims are questionable, given many have been the work of a single particularly energetic young courtier (and her band of dutifully energetic flag-planting machines who certainly are not using this as an excuse to avoid doing tedious clerical work and party planning).
Though it has never adopted a standardized flag, 'five claws and five nations under the red sun' is one that many in the court favor for its depiction of the home system of the court and its five spectacular planets, along with the traditional five-clawed dragon reaching out to the flaming pearl, an ancient and majestic symbol that doubles as the second star in the system. The symbology of the capital system and its tremendously luminscent binary red dwarf stars was such that the emperor decreed five months celebration upon its discovery. Well-wishes were sent from across the galaxy, including a beautiful piece of exotic jade drawn from the furthest reaches of the frontier accompanying the traditional annual apology message from the United Kingdom."
Alternate version:
(just a little fun thing I wanted to do for @open_sketch especially given that obviously the Westerner-derived lot aren't the only ones traipsing about the cosmos )
Though it has never adopted a standardized flag, 'five claws and five nations under the red sun' is one that many in the court favor for its depiction of the home system of the court and its five spectacular planets, along with the traditional five-clawed dragon reaching out to the flaming pearl, an ancient and majestic symbol that doubles as the second star in the system. The symbology of the capital system and its tremendously luminscent binary red dwarf stars was such that the emperor decreed five months celebration upon its discovery. Well-wishes were sent from across the galaxy, including a beautiful piece of exotic jade drawn from the furthest reaches of the frontier accompanying the traditional annual apology message from the United Kingdom."
Alternate version:
)
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- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
rad omg omg omg!!!
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Now that I'm only breaking into frequent giggles, I'll write a more serious response.
I love how this is framed. It's ultimately a straightfoward philosophical take, all things considered - there is no objective morality and the "purpose of life" is to "have fun" by satisfying the values that arose from the random chance of evolution - but the delivery really hammers it in, as it were *cough*. What does it matter that you're "just" having fun? It's fun! The machine lady touched his penis and that's all you need. It's a brilliant summary of a hard problem. *cough*
I can also see how this informs his character. He's obsolete but it doesn't matter because he's still having fun because that's not all there is to life. So he continually takes the piss out of everyone and everything that tries to take itself seriously because it's all pointless, but tearing them down or hurting them would be equally pointless and it's so much more fun to just be a sarcastic, cynical ass.
edit:
The secretary robots have glasses, perfect.
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- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
i'll also point out that it's still, you know, beckham being beckham. his cheery nihilism isn't like, the correct interpretation of the universe, that story is primary a joke to be clear, but yeah it does outline basically why he is this way.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Yeah, I guess everything I wrote there should be prefixed with "he thinks..."
Honestly, I think that he's still a fantastic demonstration of how light and fluffy the setting is, and it's really nice to read. Whenever a character in fiction goes "everything is pointless so I'm just going to have fun" I almost always read it as an offensive stereotype or caricature of secular moral philosophy, like if there was a whole genre of fiction about autism-with-the-numbers-filed-off causing serial-killer-ism except it's "if you don't believe in an Ineffable Greater Purpose or The Big Objective Morality In The Sky you're going to go mad and try to kill everyone". It's refreshing to see someone actually get it and it matches the setting perfectly.
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Chapter 18 - Shields, not Swords
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
"Eyes front, sergeant." I said, trying to retain some control over things as I took my place in the line, waiting for orders. My earpiece crackled as officers started getting their bearings and figuring out where each other were, and two more landers thundered over our head, splashing down hard against the mud.
The whole time, we stood with weapons raised against the treeline, staring into the swirling fog, waiting. We could hear things moving, likely local wildlife, but I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on us.
"Lieutenant Fusilier, are you down safely?" Captain Murray's voice came through my earpiece, nearly inaudible from the pops and sparks over the line.
"We're down and all accounted for. Something took a swipe at us." I reported, "Took a good chunk out of the lighter."
"A lot of that going around." Beckham chimed in. "Where are you, Fusie?"
I checked the compass in my cuff, aligning it with the center of the clearing as best I could.
"From the center, I'm at heading 240 near the edge of the treeline." I said, "We're set up in a line."
"I see you. After your lighter takes off, back off in good order toward the blue beacon, going to be to your north." Captain Murray ordered, so we waited.
And waited.
The damage to the lighters was slowing them taking back off, and we couldn't move on and leave them undefended. Three were declared unsalvageable, and there were continuous, minute-long roars across the water as they were scuttled with transmutative grenades, the sustained fireball leaving them burnt out husks against the water. Their crews transferred to other shuttles, and one by one they rose unsteadily on their repulsors until they were clear and ignited their rockets, solid fuel boosting them up and out of the atmosphere.
As the last of these were vanishing into the far distance with just the faint clap of sonic booms, a gun in our line swiveled toward something, and then all the others followed. I could see it, just a silhouette against the fog, staring. A sort of diamond-shaped head rising high above the shoulders, scanning us slowly.
"Hold fire!" I called, "Steady!"
The creature regarded us for some seconds, and I swore it was staring at the ensigns in particular, following Kelly as he stalked behind the line. Apparently it had gotten what it had come for, as it then faded back into the undergrowth, slowly.
"Oh, I don't much like that at all." Ensign Sumner muttered.
We waited a while longer, waiting for it to come back. Waiting for them to shoot.
"Right… B-section, let's back away in good order and not show the treeline our backs, shall we?" I said, and we began the slow trek back across the mud until we fell in with the rest of the regiment. Captain Murray's uniform was half-covered in mud from a fall, and the ensigns all looked quite miserable as we clustered around the company colours.
"Well, so much for any hope of a warm welcome." Beckham griped, waving away one of the long, string-like buzzing insects harassing him. "They didn't even give us a chance to get our feet on the ground."
"Grenadiers said they have a body at the camp. One of the machines in the archaeological team managed to kill one of their attackers." Captain Murray said, her finger to her earpieces. She was wired into a higher command frequency than us. "We're moving there now."
Ahead of us, I saw flashes in the forest and trees shaking as the skirmishers began clearing a path for us, fascine knives glowing as they carved forward into the thick forest. It was still going to be a narrow path, and indeed within a few minutes the first of the line companies were moving in double file and we were preparing to follow.
Right ahead of us in the rapidly forming column was Kennedy with the guns, perched on a respulsor horse, her blue uniform stained to the elbows. Her light guns were free of the muck, but the pedrail wheels of the gravitic howitzers were already getting fouled, engines screaming and machines running to and fro trying to shift them.
"Everything alright, Diana?" Beckham called.
"Oh, we're off to a grand start, aren't we!" she called back.
Ninth company was going to be last, and Captain Murray mentioned it was likely to be just like the exercises: we'd be stuck guarding the artillery for the duration. After my blunder earlier, I found myself perversely grateful: there would be less opportunities for mistakes in such a position. I took up position at the front of our little column, glancing back to see Theda glaring at me through the assembled machines, shrugging the heavy load on her back.
For some reason, she was carrying the company flag casing, a long cylindrical tube on her back. Properly, that ought to be with the colour sergeant. Maybe they were hurt, and I had just missed it, too busy fucking up.
The forest was strange, alien and yet familiar. The trees had a sort of furry birchbark casing that seemed to adhere strongly to our clothing, and many of their leaves dangled in long fronds that brushed against our hats. Secondary leaves, lower down, had a reddish hue instead of the green, and everything seemed oddly washed out with the yellow sky. The only life I saw were strange, wheezing transparent creatures caught up in the tree branches which reminded me of
Portuguese man-o-wars, their dangling tendrils closely resembling the fronds around them.
"This just in from Ensign Cadden, do not touch the fronds. Some of them sting." somebody said into my earpiece. "It won't kill you, but it will hurt like a real bastard."
"Oh, that's so interesting! They must be passive hunters of some kind." Sumner said, shifting a frond aside with her deactivated sword as she passed under. "I wonder what they eat."
"I hope it's not us, that's all I ask." Kelly responded. "Poor Preston."
"He'll be fine, Dr. Bell is very skilled." I assured them, "But let's not call on them unless we need to, shall we?"
The path was rough and uneven, slow going, the mud constant. The water, it turns out, was actually salty, and the ground seemed to have very little ability to absorb it. The mud, in turn, clung fast to everything, almost clay-like, and the electromagnetic snowshoes in the officer's boots did little but prevent it from clinging to much. The infantry didn't have their luxury, and soon their boots were caked in a thick layer of the stuff. Our reports, scarce as they were, said the ground would be firm and relatively even, so either somebody screwed up the records, or this was a seasonal thing.
Five miles ought not to take us long, and if we really had to power along we'd put the humans in a wagon and march double time, damn our batteries. But this was so utterly miserable that I actually heard quiet cheering from the Theos and Doras as we passed over a rocky section where our footing was firm.
And contrary to expectations, the fog did not settle as the day went on. It got worse as the temperature climbed, like steam, cloying thick in the trees. I could barely see Lieutenant Kennedy on her horse ahead of us, hovering over it all. She may not be much a fan of the repulsor units, but they sure were making her life easier. By contrast, the wheeled guns were making slow progress, and their only saving grace was that the compressed ground in their wake was much easier for us to walk on.
"Why couldn't we land at the camp again?" Kelly asked, kicking a crushed branch from our path. "This seems like a terrible idea."
"The camp's a tiny clearing in the rocks. We'd have to bring the lighters down one at a time, would have taken more than a day, and left us very vulnerable." I explained.
"Feels like we could have taken that extra time… I feel very vulnerable right now." Sumner said, looking out nervously into the forest.
"If feels that way, but we're much safer with our feet on the ground and all together." I said, "Remember, the greatest protection isn't armour or force screens, it's-"
At that moment, there was a blurry purple flash across the line that snatched the shako of a Theo not ten feet in front of me, and then another which struck the arm of the machine beside him. Before anyone could react, more shots rang out from the right side of the path, all of them focused on the middle of our columns, and I briefly saw a blue beam connect with Lieutenant Kennedy's force screen before she dropped from her exposed position on her horse.
There was an instant eruption of chaos, the ensigns panicking, and as if by instinct I stepped between them and the direction of the fire, shouldering them aside and staring out into the forest.
"B-section! Face right, close file, and make ready!" I called instantly, my sword flashing to life. I could hear Theda and Old Theo echo the order, and I held a moment. The fire had dropped off, nearly as quick as it started, and I was betting they were running and repositioning, hit and fade. If we fired now, all we'd hit is air. If we were patient, they might get bold and try to take a few more shots, and we could put a full volley into them.
"Fire at will!"
Instead, just moments later, I heard Theda call for fire, and then everything else was drowned out by the snap of muskets firing, the fog thickened by the discharging coolant as stun blasts flashed uselessly into the forest. I shouted for them to stop, but nobody could hear me over the din as every gun fired all at once. Snarling, I thumbed the selector on my sword two clicks and a red and yellow pulse flared out of it, and a moment later the fire dropped off.
"Hold your fucking fire! B-section, rear rank, recharge arms!" I yelled, and half of the soldiers began refilling their coolant reserves as the first half waited, weapons at the ready. Once the rear rank was filled, the first rank did the same.
We waited, once again staring at nothing, and I felt a smoldering anger I made no attempt to dismiss. How dare she. Unsurprisingly, there was no movement, and eventually the order filtered down to press forward again. The machines shouldered their weapons and I dosed my blade, and we started the
"Miles, your lot alright?" I asked over the wireless.
"Just superficial damage, and Ensign Darley's got a little stung." he said back. A cold feeling washed over me.
"Is she alright?"
"She's fine, just scatter through her screens. Says it felt a little like after she got stunned, honestly might just be shock. I've got her riding in the back of one of the artillery wagons." he replied. "Bit of excitement, wasn't it?"
Twice more during our trek through the forest, a part of the line was probed. Light, rapid fire from the forest, met in turn with volleys of stun fire. We had no way of knowing how effective we were being, we weren't stupid enough to try and push through the bush to count bodies, and I started hearing grumbles over the communication net from officers wanting to switch to full-power shots.
"I don't understand why they haven't. They're not using stunners." Kelly said, nervously glancing around the trees as he walked, and I pushed him back just a bit to be better covered by the soldiers. "It'd be fair if nothing else."
"Private Theo, you want to switch to full power?" I asked the nearest machine, and he shook his head.
"No call for it yet. We don't know why they're so pissed, and if we kill them back, a lot more of us might have to die than if we get a chance to hash it out." he said.
"That's why we exist, after all." the nearest Dora added, "You know how bloody hard it is to kill us? We can take a few potshots until this gets sorted out."
"We're shields, not swords." another added from further down the line, a refrain we were born knowing.
"Though, if they really want a fight after we've got the civilians clear, we'll fucking give them one." Theo added with relish.
The whole time, we stood with weapons raised against the treeline, staring into the swirling fog, waiting. We could hear things moving, likely local wildlife, but I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on us.
"Lieutenant Fusilier, are you down safely?" Captain Murray's voice came through my earpiece, nearly inaudible from the pops and sparks over the line.
"We're down and all accounted for. Something took a swipe at us." I reported, "Took a good chunk out of the lighter."
"A lot of that going around." Beckham chimed in. "Where are you, Fusie?"
I checked the compass in my cuff, aligning it with the center of the clearing as best I could.
"From the center, I'm at heading 240 near the edge of the treeline." I said, "We're set up in a line."
"I see you. After your lighter takes off, back off in good order toward the blue beacon, going to be to your north." Captain Murray ordered, so we waited.
And waited.
The damage to the lighters was slowing them taking back off, and we couldn't move on and leave them undefended. Three were declared unsalvageable, and there were continuous, minute-long roars across the water as they were scuttled with transmutative grenades, the sustained fireball leaving them burnt out husks against the water. Their crews transferred to other shuttles, and one by one they rose unsteadily on their repulsors until they were clear and ignited their rockets, solid fuel boosting them up and out of the atmosphere.
As the last of these were vanishing into the far distance with just the faint clap of sonic booms, a gun in our line swiveled toward something, and then all the others followed. I could see it, just a silhouette against the fog, staring. A sort of diamond-shaped head rising high above the shoulders, scanning us slowly.
"Hold fire!" I called, "Steady!"
The creature regarded us for some seconds, and I swore it was staring at the ensigns in particular, following Kelly as he stalked behind the line. Apparently it had gotten what it had come for, as it then faded back into the undergrowth, slowly.
"Oh, I don't much like that at all." Ensign Sumner muttered.
We waited a while longer, waiting for it to come back. Waiting for them to shoot.
"Right… B-section, let's back away in good order and not show the treeline our backs, shall we?" I said, and we began the slow trek back across the mud until we fell in with the rest of the regiment. Captain Murray's uniform was half-covered in mud from a fall, and the ensigns all looked quite miserable as we clustered around the company colours.
"Well, so much for any hope of a warm welcome." Beckham griped, waving away one of the long, string-like buzzing insects harassing him. "They didn't even give us a chance to get our feet on the ground."
"Grenadiers said they have a body at the camp. One of the machines in the archaeological team managed to kill one of their attackers." Captain Murray said, her finger to her earpieces. She was wired into a higher command frequency than us. "We're moving there now."
Ahead of us, I saw flashes in the forest and trees shaking as the skirmishers began clearing a path for us, fascine knives glowing as they carved forward into the thick forest. It was still going to be a narrow path, and indeed within a few minutes the first of the line companies were moving in double file and we were preparing to follow.
Right ahead of us in the rapidly forming column was Kennedy with the guns, perched on a respulsor horse, her blue uniform stained to the elbows. Her light guns were free of the muck, but the pedrail wheels of the gravitic howitzers were already getting fouled, engines screaming and machines running to and fro trying to shift them.
"Everything alright, Diana?" Beckham called.
"Oh, we're off to a grand start, aren't we!" she called back.
Ninth company was going to be last, and Captain Murray mentioned it was likely to be just like the exercises: we'd be stuck guarding the artillery for the duration. After my blunder earlier, I found myself perversely grateful: there would be less opportunities for mistakes in such a position. I took up position at the front of our little column, glancing back to see Theda glaring at me through the assembled machines, shrugging the heavy load on her back.
For some reason, she was carrying the company flag casing, a long cylindrical tube on her back. Properly, that ought to be with the colour sergeant. Maybe they were hurt, and I had just missed it, too busy fucking up.
The forest was strange, alien and yet familiar. The trees had a sort of furry birchbark casing that seemed to adhere strongly to our clothing, and many of their leaves dangled in long fronds that brushed against our hats. Secondary leaves, lower down, had a reddish hue instead of the green, and everything seemed oddly washed out with the yellow sky. The only life I saw were strange, wheezing transparent creatures caught up in the tree branches which reminded me of
Portuguese man-o-wars, their dangling tendrils closely resembling the fronds around them.
"This just in from Ensign Cadden, do not touch the fronds. Some of them sting." somebody said into my earpiece. "It won't kill you, but it will hurt like a real bastard."
"Oh, that's so interesting! They must be passive hunters of some kind." Sumner said, shifting a frond aside with her deactivated sword as she passed under. "I wonder what they eat."
"I hope it's not us, that's all I ask." Kelly responded. "Poor Preston."
"He'll be fine, Dr. Bell is very skilled." I assured them, "But let's not call on them unless we need to, shall we?"
The path was rough and uneven, slow going, the mud constant. The water, it turns out, was actually salty, and the ground seemed to have very little ability to absorb it. The mud, in turn, clung fast to everything, almost clay-like, and the electromagnetic snowshoes in the officer's boots did little but prevent it from clinging to much. The infantry didn't have their luxury, and soon their boots were caked in a thick layer of the stuff. Our reports, scarce as they were, said the ground would be firm and relatively even, so either somebody screwed up the records, or this was a seasonal thing.
Five miles ought not to take us long, and if we really had to power along we'd put the humans in a wagon and march double time, damn our batteries. But this was so utterly miserable that I actually heard quiet cheering from the Theos and Doras as we passed over a rocky section where our footing was firm.
And contrary to expectations, the fog did not settle as the day went on. It got worse as the temperature climbed, like steam, cloying thick in the trees. I could barely see Lieutenant Kennedy on her horse ahead of us, hovering over it all. She may not be much a fan of the repulsor units, but they sure were making her life easier. By contrast, the wheeled guns were making slow progress, and their only saving grace was that the compressed ground in their wake was much easier for us to walk on.
"Why couldn't we land at the camp again?" Kelly asked, kicking a crushed branch from our path. "This seems like a terrible idea."
"The camp's a tiny clearing in the rocks. We'd have to bring the lighters down one at a time, would have taken more than a day, and left us very vulnerable." I explained.
"Feels like we could have taken that extra time… I feel very vulnerable right now." Sumner said, looking out nervously into the forest.
"If feels that way, but we're much safer with our feet on the ground and all together." I said, "Remember, the greatest protection isn't armour or force screens, it's-"
At that moment, there was a blurry purple flash across the line that snatched the shako of a Theo not ten feet in front of me, and then another which struck the arm of the machine beside him. Before anyone could react, more shots rang out from the right side of the path, all of them focused on the middle of our columns, and I briefly saw a blue beam connect with Lieutenant Kennedy's force screen before she dropped from her exposed position on her horse.
There was an instant eruption of chaos, the ensigns panicking, and as if by instinct I stepped between them and the direction of the fire, shouldering them aside and staring out into the forest.
"B-section! Face right, close file, and make ready!" I called instantly, my sword flashing to life. I could hear Theda and Old Theo echo the order, and I held a moment. The fire had dropped off, nearly as quick as it started, and I was betting they were running and repositioning, hit and fade. If we fired now, all we'd hit is air. If we were patient, they might get bold and try to take a few more shots, and we could put a full volley into them.
"Fire at will!"
Instead, just moments later, I heard Theda call for fire, and then everything else was drowned out by the snap of muskets firing, the fog thickened by the discharging coolant as stun blasts flashed uselessly into the forest. I shouted for them to stop, but nobody could hear me over the din as every gun fired all at once. Snarling, I thumbed the selector on my sword two clicks and a red and yellow pulse flared out of it, and a moment later the fire dropped off.
"Hold your fucking fire! B-section, rear rank, recharge arms!" I yelled, and half of the soldiers began refilling their coolant reserves as the first half waited, weapons at the ready. Once the rear rank was filled, the first rank did the same.
We waited, once again staring at nothing, and I felt a smoldering anger I made no attempt to dismiss. How dare she. Unsurprisingly, there was no movement, and eventually the order filtered down to press forward again. The machines shouldered their weapons and I dosed my blade, and we started the
"Miles, your lot alright?" I asked over the wireless.
"Just superficial damage, and Ensign Darley's got a little stung." he said back. A cold feeling washed over me.
"Is she alright?"
"She's fine, just scatter through her screens. Says it felt a little like after she got stunned, honestly might just be shock. I've got her riding in the back of one of the artillery wagons." he replied. "Bit of excitement, wasn't it?"
Twice more during our trek through the forest, a part of the line was probed. Light, rapid fire from the forest, met in turn with volleys of stun fire. We had no way of knowing how effective we were being, we weren't stupid enough to try and push through the bush to count bodies, and I started hearing grumbles over the communication net from officers wanting to switch to full-power shots.
"I don't understand why they haven't. They're not using stunners." Kelly said, nervously glancing around the trees as he walked, and I pushed him back just a bit to be better covered by the soldiers. "It'd be fair if nothing else."
"Private Theo, you want to switch to full power?" I asked the nearest machine, and he shook his head.
"No call for it yet. We don't know why they're so pissed, and if we kill them back, a lot more of us might have to die than if we get a chance to hash it out." he said.
"That's why we exist, after all." the nearest Dora added, "You know how bloody hard it is to kill us? We can take a few potshots until this gets sorted out."
"We're shields, not swords." another added from further down the line, a refrain we were born knowing.
"Though, if they really want a fight after we've got the civilians clear, we'll fucking give them one." Theo added with relish.
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10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
I know it is a terrible source of rocket propellant, but technically this sentence allows for the possibility that the rockets run on coal.
Or candy, for that matter.
Edit : Also, treason, insubordination, perfidious villainy most foul.
- Location
- Yes
Yeah that's...
Good news is that we've seen an end to Prussian Militarism. Bad news is the one thing I thought we could rely on Theda to do, we can't.
The situation on the planet seems to be about as fucked up as I expected, definite intelligences, quite heavily armed. I'm betting on actual First Contact here.
Good news is that we've seen an end to Prussian Militarism. Bad news is the one thing I thought we could rely on Theda to do, we can't.
The situation on the planet seems to be about as fucked up as I expected, definite intelligences, quite heavily armed. I'm betting on actual First Contact here.
- Location
- Under a cat
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Oh, shit. Is this space Vietnam? French Indochina was colonized in the 1880's, which is a bit late for a mostly-regency setting, but I think it's within the realm of plausibility.
Either way, I do not like the difficult terrain and guerilla warfare. I'm not expert on Napoleonic warfare, but I don't think the British Empire did well in these kinds of situations.
Either way, I do not like the difficult terrain and guerilla warfare. I'm not expert on Napoleonic warfare, but I don't think the British Empire did well in these kinds of situations.
I'm gonna go to bat for the LT's 'mistake'. She had no way of knowing what the situation was like in that Lighter when it came down and nobody got out. It could have been a total loss along with all of it's passengers, it might have been stuck with doors fused shut, it could have been nearly anything. But I don't think 'maneuver the whole section over to guard it' is the right answer either. The LT was on a fact-finding and decision-reaching mission, so she took a bodyguard and investigated. Now, maybe the major doesn't have a concussion after all, but there were a wide selection of options from opening that mystery box, and not all of them would have demanded having a whole section over there. Indeed, shifting the section over would have left another lighter unguarded, and might have seen it taken out.
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
Thing is, there's no reason she should have been the one doing that. She could have solved a few of her soldiers to do it, they're just as smart as her (same model, even).
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
...In all fairness, he is nineteen.
With steam clouds rising, no less... Is this where you reference those old 'atomic bombs' from H.G. Wells that we were talking about a while ago?
Hm.
Oh, you pompous Prussian ass.
OK to be fair I was starting to worry about them. That's better.
bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
I know Dora has already dismissed official censures on account of Theda acting just on the inside of plausible deniability and the inherent scrutiny that would come to her as the complaining officer as well as her sergeant. I also realise that Dora still feels really uncomfortable with a lot of the less straightforward aspects of officerdom and the officer social network, and as a fresh Lieutenant doesn't yet have the confident connections to implement some type of informal punishment or paperwork hell, and that ultimately Theda is so "ride or die" in her assholery that even the threat of such formal or informal marks would have Dora's bluff immediately called. But god is this broken command structure the literal last thing anybody needs in combat, I'm sure most of the Doras and Theos talking amongst themselves would even prefer going into battle with antique blunderbusses and longbows or whatever it was that humans used to kill each other.
With hindsight, I feel like Dora should have told herself damn the consequences and pushed Theda into line the god old fashioned NCO way. Like taking advantage of the fact that everyone besides the Ensigns are machines to squeeze in so many midnight inspections of the ranks, with sergeants in particular, and running individual and squad combat drills while everyone is at such low battery and so contently exhausted at doing their job and getting that good brain buzz that they obey Dora's uniform without question. Use the collective pressure of the entire unit against Theda and force her to buckle and/or say something publicly so beyond the pale to an officer Dora can give her the boot with no problem.
With hindsight, I feel like Dora should have told herself damn the consequences and pushed Theda into line the god old fashioned NCO way. Like taking advantage of the fact that everyone besides the Ensigns are machines to squeeze in so many midnight inspections of the ranks, with sergeants in particular, and running individual and squad combat drills while everyone is at such low battery and so contently exhausted at doing their job and getting that good brain buzz that they obey Dora's uniform without question. Use the collective pressure of the entire unit against Theda and force her to buckle and/or say something publicly so beyond the pale to an officer Dora can give her the boot with no problem.
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Undead-Spaceman
Skeleton Supreme
- Location
- Somewhere in Orbit
I've been wondering, has anyone ever encountered bio-servitors? The remains of a civilization that specced hard into genotyping and used meat/vegetable robots rather than the traditional metal?
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I mean.
Your average Dora would be pretty fuckin' terrifying with a properly built longbow of proper English yew, built to her draw strength.
But yes.
Tempting.
Honestly, I think that to some extent the sheer... luxuriousness... of the civilization is working against her here. The collective knowledge of how to out-nasty a nasty person is to some extent missing, because for most circumstances there IS a better, kinder way to deal with the nastiness.
- Location
- Yes
You get forests more places than Vietnam. Ask MACV-SOG.
Having had significant experience of it in America, I think the British Army were reasonably well equipped for this sort of thing in the Napoleonic Era, but it requires the use of specialist light infantry tactics which were not generally taught to every member of a line regiment. For the Space Regency I'd expect that they're just programmed in as standard, rather than making Theos Greenjacket models or spending ages to train the Light company when the rest of the unit is deployable. If the column was attempting to eliminate the attackers then they could disperse into open order and skirmish into the foliage, but they're attempting to make time and they're not taking serious damage from the skirmishing so they don't need to. Column marching is much, much faster and they have humans to save.
But they have no decision making capability, organisationally speaking. If anything has to be done then the platoon she sends looks at the situation, turns around and comes back to ask her what to do, then turns around again and goes to do it. With newly-minted Ensigns and shaky NCOs I can see the argument for her not doing what she did, but I personally think her actions were justifiable.
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
If they needed that decision making capability, she could have sent a sergeant along.
And better that a small exploratory formation is without decisionmaking capability, than her entire formation.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Everyone else: *interesting, insightful comments*
me: hehe pew pew pew laser muskets
me: hehe pew pew pew laser muskets
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Now that's some fast turnaround!
Heh, there's a reason why the marine camo pattern adapted to the southeast US is outstanding in pine forest and the opfor there is called the People's Republic of Pineland. Light whatever in forests and a lot of the low level vicious civilian violence you'd associate with a civil war pretty much characterizes the American Revolutionary War in the south. (In other news, I wish people here remembered that latter half when they get their rose tinted glasses out about revolutions)