Keep in mind we're looking at 6-8 years of prototyping and 4-5 years of production, so 10 years after widespread introduction of the Amby with a 4y build time would be in 2335!
To Boldly Go... (a Starfleet quest)
- Thread starter OneirosTheWriter
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Omake - Undiplomatic Relations - ExplBean
ExplBean
Failed Tactician
Thanks to @AKuz and @ClawClawBite for their work on various Federation dueling customs, @random_npc for research assistance, and a sidelong look at the Lecarre infiltrator wearing the face of @Simon_Jester, who anticipated the cut and thrust of this omake.
Undiplomatic Relations,
or: what the Diplomatic Service is so busy with all the time
The Federation was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle put together out of seven different boxes, Ambassador Marigold Ch'Trass thought. Certainly it made for a stunning vista, but more often than not the pieces didn't quite fit together properly. Sometimes you just had to apply a little pressure to finesse a tab in, and sometimes you had to get out the cutting implements. On a growing number of occasions, that last part of the metaphor was becoming uncomfortably literal.
The ambassador considered the two stun-sabres in his hands. They'd been delivered in a locked case by the seconds of the involved, and were in every way identical. Composed of a 15 centimeter grip and a 90 centimeter "blade" designed to deliver a nadion shock from an emitter hidden in the hilt, the weapons wouldn't be lethal to anyone other than an Andorian -- a fact that made Marigold's antennae twitch as he tested the ignition of each with a slight flourish. "The blades seem to be in order," he said, and lifted his head to regard the combatants. On the left, Caelan Amitrin, the Amarki cook attached to his own delegation, whose culinary competence had been called into question once too often. On the right, Grak, a member of the Tellarite trade delegation from Babel, and apparently something of a connoisseur. "I don't suppose I can convince either of you that this whole production is unnecessary?" he asked, resigned. Two negative shakes of the head were his only response. Marigold noted with some further concern that Caelan was shaking slightly with nerves, anger, eagerness, or some unpredictable mix of all three. Grak was harder to read, but Marigold thought he saw the light of anticipation in her eyes as well. "Very well then. You may take your positions. On the third clap, you may strike."
It was a clear-cut case of cultural incompatibility, Marigold mused as they strode to opposite ends of the marked stage, the sort of easy to understand example that made it into introductory xenopsych textbooks. Being easy to understand, of course, didn't make it easy to solve. The average Tellarite's opening complaints, intended as a good-natured probe into just what was and wasn't valued by strangers, ran smack-dab into Amarkian sensibilities regarding a host's responsibilities under the rules of hospitality. An offended Amarki host would then bite back on their anger and become more and more reticent, offering as much apology as was demanded by custom and then engaging in traditionally circumlocutious behaviors to let a rude guest know they were unwelcome. The stymied Tellarite, denied the argument they were hoping for, would either double-down to provoke a reaction or give it up as a lost cause and lose respect for the other party. An unsatisfactory conclusion, even if the Tellarite never accidentally impugned the Amarki's honor, which was well within possibility.
Having things the other way around wasn't any better. The only way to offend a Tellarite faster than to say there was "nothing to complain about" was to compliment their abilities as a host. Add in the fact that Tellarites used ad hominem attacks to signal respect for their opponent's opinion and de-escalate debates, directly opposed to Amarki tradition of assault on the person being equal to assault on the idea (even after the Reformations of Salnas the Wise)...
Whatever mad genius had come up with the idea of reconciling the Amarki Code Duello with the significantly less lethal Tellarite tradition of Having a Punch Out, and Marigold had a strong suspicion that they were a human, had no idea what they'd wrought. This was the fifth "duel" Marigold had presided over in the last month, and they'd attracted a crowd of more than a hundred -- including a local news broadcasting team. If this circus grew any larger they'd have to declare it a league sport instead of a method to resolve grievances!
Caelan and Grak were both toeing the line now, gazes fixed on each other and stun-sabres held ready. There was no further putting it off. Marigold clapped once, twice, thrice-- and the duel began.
Grak was off like a shot, rushing the lanky Amarki who seemed to have trouble dealing with such a forward assault and managed only a few desperate blocks. "I thought you said you were good at this, knives-for-ears!," Grak called out. "So much for all your noble heritage- you fight like a farmer!" Her blade lit up with the nadion shock timed with the delivery of her insult-- the zinger, as it were. She drew forward in a great thrust, piercing towards Caelan's chest.
Caelan's own stun-sabre swept up from below, his weak guard firming into a strong parry and indicating his earlier poor showing had been an extended feint. Grak's thrust crackled over his shoulder, and he angled for an awkward counter-stroke at the much-too-close Tellarite. "How appropriate, you fight like a pig!" Grak was left completely exposed and out of position, and was forced to retreat gracelessly. The knockout charge had transferred to Caelan's sword now, mirroring the shift in conversational momentum. They clashed blades in a flurry, Caelan's height and reach driving Grak back. "If that's your idea of a defense, I'll shish-kebab you!"
A slightly overzealous thrust allowed Grak to knock Caelan's blade away by main force, and he was left as exposed as she had been earlier. "If that's your idea of a shish-kebab, it's no wonder you can't cook worth a damn!" Caelan was on the back foot now, and she pursued. "I've seen Horta with better bladework." Orange sparks leapt from her stun-sabre as she battered through his defenses and forced a blade-lock. "Admit it, you couldn't fight your way out of a paper sack!"
"Better than having to wear one!" Caelan shot back as he disengaged. "The Bending Bough School of swordsmanship has been honored for generations!"
Chasing after, Grak refused to let him gain distance. "You should really have bothered attending a few lessons, then!" They clashed again, and Caelan continued retreating. "Can you do anything but run?"
"I'm sorry, I forgot to take your stubby little legs into account. If you're growing tired, then by all means, yield!" Running out of stage, Caelan shifted back onto the offensive with a more powerful set of blows. Grak weathered them and came right back swinging.
"It'd take a better man than you to wear me out, boyo!" she returned, and locked blades with him again. "Your arms are as weak as your spices!" the Tellarite taunted, leaning in.
Caelan bent under the pressure, but there was a smirk on his face. "And your breath is more powerful still!" Compressed like a spring, Caelan uncoiled and nearly threw Grak across the stage with the force. She took several staggering steps backward, and the Amarki didn't hesitate to take advantage. He launched a barrage of attacks, forcing her further and further off balance. "Your palette is as rusty as your swordsmanship! You wouldn't know a croissant from a crouton if they ambushed you in a dusty alley! That silver spoon of yours is shoved so far up your nose it's stirring your brain! In short, madame," he growled, winding up for his finisher, "If you can't take the heat, STAY OUT OF MY KITCHEN!"
The shocked look on her face as his final lunge connected and the orange phase-pulse knocked her out would likely make for treasured memories, Marigold thought, but he was entirely done with this farce. "HALT!" he yelled, and Caelan instantly stilled, still outstretched. Grak began to topple over, and to his credit Caelan dropped his sword to grab her and lower her to the floor. "Is honor satisfied?" Marigold called out, and the young Amarki looked up, eyes shining with victory.
"It is, Ambassador."
"Then I declare this matter settled, with Caelan Amitrin the victor over Grak in honorable combat." Marigold announced. The crowd broke into raucous cheers and applause. The reporters closed in for an interview with the winner, and after a quick scan with a tricorder the medics on hand began the process for reviving the loser. Marigold slumped, emotionally exhausted, and slipped away to where his chief of staff was waiting for him. The human winked at him before sliding a flask out of his pocket and tossing it to the Andorian.
"Let him have his victory lap, eh? Cutter's earned it," he said. Tracey Carver was't the sort of man that looked like the second in command of a diplomatic delegation. He was the sort of man who looked like he should be selling you used blades for your ice cutter out of lot that only opened onto the darkest alley on the wrong side of town. He was the most trustworthy untrustworthy-looking man Marigold had ever met, and the list of untrustworthy-looking men Marigold had met was fairly long even for a diplomat. "Hey now," Tracey said as Marigold took a long, long draught from the flask, "Careful. That's the good stuff in there."
The burn of the synthehol couldn't quite wipe the sour taste from his mouth. "Honor doesn't make violence any more palatable," Marigold observed, swishing the flask back and forth.
"Just sticks in your craw the wrong way, eh? Nothin' to be done, though. Them's that enjoy that sort of thing gonna get their kicks one way or another, and leastwise no berk's stuck and bleeding. Wonders of modern technology." Tracey countered in a light tone. A dark look flashed over Marigold's face, and he took another gulp from the flask. Tracey grimaced too as he realised his misstep. "Aw, shit, your Pa. Stepped in it there."
"I'll give it this," Marigold ground out, "Insult swordfighting's a damn sight more civilized than the Ushaan. But by the Star of Andor, if they drag me out to arbitrate another of these before we wrap up this trade deal I'll challenge them both!"
"What happened ta violence not bein' the answer?"
"But it would be so satisfying." Marigold's antennae twitched. Grak was rising to her feet now, supported by her second. He tossed the flask back to Tracey. "We should make ourselves scarce until the function this evening. With this behind us, maybe we can finally wrap up the trade deal."
"You the boss, boss-man," Tracey replied, then took a swig. "To the Developmentalists."
"Hear, hear."
Undiplomatic Relations,
or: what the Diplomatic Service is so busy with all the time
The Federation was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle put together out of seven different boxes, Ambassador Marigold Ch'Trass thought. Certainly it made for a stunning vista, but more often than not the pieces didn't quite fit together properly. Sometimes you just had to apply a little pressure to finesse a tab in, and sometimes you had to get out the cutting implements. On a growing number of occasions, that last part of the metaphor was becoming uncomfortably literal.
The ambassador considered the two stun-sabres in his hands. They'd been delivered in a locked case by the seconds of the involved, and were in every way identical. Composed of a 15 centimeter grip and a 90 centimeter "blade" designed to deliver a nadion shock from an emitter hidden in the hilt, the weapons wouldn't be lethal to anyone other than an Andorian -- a fact that made Marigold's antennae twitch as he tested the ignition of each with a slight flourish. "The blades seem to be in order," he said, and lifted his head to regard the combatants. On the left, Caelan Amitrin, the Amarki cook attached to his own delegation, whose culinary competence had been called into question once too often. On the right, Grak, a member of the Tellarite trade delegation from Babel, and apparently something of a connoisseur. "I don't suppose I can convince either of you that this whole production is unnecessary?" he asked, resigned. Two negative shakes of the head were his only response. Marigold noted with some further concern that Caelan was shaking slightly with nerves, anger, eagerness, or some unpredictable mix of all three. Grak was harder to read, but Marigold thought he saw the light of anticipation in her eyes as well. "Very well then. You may take your positions. On the third clap, you may strike."
It was a clear-cut case of cultural incompatibility, Marigold mused as they strode to opposite ends of the marked stage, the sort of easy to understand example that made it into introductory xenopsych textbooks. Being easy to understand, of course, didn't make it easy to solve. The average Tellarite's opening complaints, intended as a good-natured probe into just what was and wasn't valued by strangers, ran smack-dab into Amarkian sensibilities regarding a host's responsibilities under the rules of hospitality. An offended Amarki host would then bite back on their anger and become more and more reticent, offering as much apology as was demanded by custom and then engaging in traditionally circumlocutious behaviors to let a rude guest know they were unwelcome. The stymied Tellarite, denied the argument they were hoping for, would either double-down to provoke a reaction or give it up as a lost cause and lose respect for the other party. An unsatisfactory conclusion, even if the Tellarite never accidentally impugned the Amarki's honor, which was well within possibility.
Having things the other way around wasn't any better. The only way to offend a Tellarite faster than to say there was "nothing to complain about" was to compliment their abilities as a host. Add in the fact that Tellarites used ad hominem attacks to signal respect for their opponent's opinion and de-escalate debates, directly opposed to Amarki tradition of assault on the person being equal to assault on the idea (even after the Reformations of Salnas the Wise)...
Whatever mad genius had come up with the idea of reconciling the Amarki Code Duello with the significantly less lethal Tellarite tradition of Having a Punch Out, and Marigold had a strong suspicion that they were a human, had no idea what they'd wrought. This was the fifth "duel" Marigold had presided over in the last month, and they'd attracted a crowd of more than a hundred -- including a local news broadcasting team. If this circus grew any larger they'd have to declare it a league sport instead of a method to resolve grievances!
Caelan and Grak were both toeing the line now, gazes fixed on each other and stun-sabres held ready. There was no further putting it off. Marigold clapped once, twice, thrice-- and the duel began.
Grak was off like a shot, rushing the lanky Amarki who seemed to have trouble dealing with such a forward assault and managed only a few desperate blocks. "I thought you said you were good at this, knives-for-ears!," Grak called out. "So much for all your noble heritage- you fight like a farmer!" Her blade lit up with the nadion shock timed with the delivery of her insult-- the zinger, as it were. She drew forward in a great thrust, piercing towards Caelan's chest.
Caelan's own stun-sabre swept up from below, his weak guard firming into a strong parry and indicating his earlier poor showing had been an extended feint. Grak's thrust crackled over his shoulder, and he angled for an awkward counter-stroke at the much-too-close Tellarite. "How appropriate, you fight like a pig!" Grak was left completely exposed and out of position, and was forced to retreat gracelessly. The knockout charge had transferred to Caelan's sword now, mirroring the shift in conversational momentum. They clashed blades in a flurry, Caelan's height and reach driving Grak back. "If that's your idea of a defense, I'll shish-kebab you!"
A slightly overzealous thrust allowed Grak to knock Caelan's blade away by main force, and he was left as exposed as she had been earlier. "If that's your idea of a shish-kebab, it's no wonder you can't cook worth a damn!" Caelan was on the back foot now, and she pursued. "I've seen Horta with better bladework." Orange sparks leapt from her stun-sabre as she battered through his defenses and forced a blade-lock. "Admit it, you couldn't fight your way out of a paper sack!"
"Better than having to wear one!" Caelan shot back as he disengaged. "The Bending Bough School of swordsmanship has been honored for generations!"
Chasing after, Grak refused to let him gain distance. "You should really have bothered attending a few lessons, then!" They clashed again, and Caelan continued retreating. "Can you do anything but run?"
"I'm sorry, I forgot to take your stubby little legs into account. If you're growing tired, then by all means, yield!" Running out of stage, Caelan shifted back onto the offensive with a more powerful set of blows. Grak weathered them and came right back swinging.
"It'd take a better man than you to wear me out, boyo!" she returned, and locked blades with him again. "Your arms are as weak as your spices!" the Tellarite taunted, leaning in.
Caelan bent under the pressure, but there was a smirk on his face. "And your breath is more powerful still!" Compressed like a spring, Caelan uncoiled and nearly threw Grak across the stage with the force. She took several staggering steps backward, and the Amarki didn't hesitate to take advantage. He launched a barrage of attacks, forcing her further and further off balance. "Your palette is as rusty as your swordsmanship! You wouldn't know a croissant from a crouton if they ambushed you in a dusty alley! That silver spoon of yours is shoved so far up your nose it's stirring your brain! In short, madame," he growled, winding up for his finisher, "If you can't take the heat, STAY OUT OF MY KITCHEN!"
The shocked look on her face as his final lunge connected and the orange phase-pulse knocked her out would likely make for treasured memories, Marigold thought, but he was entirely done with this farce. "HALT!" he yelled, and Caelan instantly stilled, still outstretched. Grak began to topple over, and to his credit Caelan dropped his sword to grab her and lower her to the floor. "Is honor satisfied?" Marigold called out, and the young Amarki looked up, eyes shining with victory.
"It is, Ambassador."
"Then I declare this matter settled, with Caelan Amitrin the victor over Grak in honorable combat." Marigold announced. The crowd broke into raucous cheers and applause. The reporters closed in for an interview with the winner, and after a quick scan with a tricorder the medics on hand began the process for reviving the loser. Marigold slumped, emotionally exhausted, and slipped away to where his chief of staff was waiting for him. The human winked at him before sliding a flask out of his pocket and tossing it to the Andorian.
"Let him have his victory lap, eh? Cutter's earned it," he said. Tracey Carver was't the sort of man that looked like the second in command of a diplomatic delegation. He was the sort of man who looked like he should be selling you used blades for your ice cutter out of lot that only opened onto the darkest alley on the wrong side of town. He was the most trustworthy untrustworthy-looking man Marigold had ever met, and the list of untrustworthy-looking men Marigold had met was fairly long even for a diplomat. "Hey now," Tracey said as Marigold took a long, long draught from the flask, "Careful. That's the good stuff in there."
The burn of the synthehol couldn't quite wipe the sour taste from his mouth. "Honor doesn't make violence any more palatable," Marigold observed, swishing the flask back and forth.
"Just sticks in your craw the wrong way, eh? Nothin' to be done, though. Them's that enjoy that sort of thing gonna get their kicks one way or another, and leastwise no berk's stuck and bleeding. Wonders of modern technology." Tracey countered in a light tone. A dark look flashed over Marigold's face, and he took another gulp from the flask. Tracey grimaced too as he realised his misstep. "Aw, shit, your Pa. Stepped in it there."
"I'll give it this," Marigold ground out, "Insult swordfighting's a damn sight more civilized than the Ushaan. But by the Star of Andor, if they drag me out to arbitrate another of these before we wrap up this trade deal I'll challenge them both!"
"What happened ta violence not bein' the answer?"
"But it would be so satisfying." Marigold's antennae twitched. Grak was rising to her feet now, supported by her second. He tossed the flask back to Tracey. "We should make ourselves scarce until the function this evening. With this behind us, maybe we can finally wrap up the trade deal."
"You the boss, boss-man," Tracey replied, then took a swig. "To the Developmentalists."
"Hear, hear."
- Location
- Nova Scotia, Canada
"Dammit, those idiots on the Enterprise screwed up again. Contact the Enterprise and the Enterprise and have them rendezvous with the Enterprise at Enterprise Starbase before proceeding to the Enterprise system to fix this mess."
Fallenblades643
Seeker of the Divine Taste
Yep. That's the problem solving staple of mankind. Have access to non-lethal weapons? Have Honor focused cultures? Have honor tied to martial actions?
Fucking codified honor duels with non-lethals sounds perfect.
I can see Humanity running the circuit with it too. Sometimes punch someone in the face is the only viable option.
Fucking codified honor duels with non-lethals sounds perfect.
I can see Humanity running the circuit with it too. Sometimes punch someone in the face is the only viable option.
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
- Location
- Canada
Sadly we don't have people firing lasers that don't stun when hit but still doing damage, nor are the beams pick and huge, also nobody is named Nanoha.The technical term is "befriending".
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Sadly we don't have people firing lasers that don't stun when hit but still doing damage, nor are the beams pick and huge, also nobody is named Nanoha.
Not with that attitude!
Just believe... (and write thinly veiled Omake OCs) and you too can have your favorite animated character in TBG!
> : P
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yan-Ros omake when?
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AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yan-Ros omake when?
I think we've actually had a few already?
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I don't think so?
Night
Widow Null
- Location
- Hoff
Branwen is angry to be forgotten and demands I finish her next omake.
Though in all honesty she has nothing in common with anyone from RWBY, even her namesake.
Nervos Belli
Don't think this means you've won!
- Location
- Murica
Is it worth writing an omake that'd probably be pretty boring (A conversation between cooks on an Oberth) just for the sake of a really terrible pun?
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Feghoots are a recognized literary genera.
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I think so.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I will note that the Ambassador seems to have experienced some power creep as designs are refined; my earlier comments were based on out-of-date information. There was a point at which it looked as though an Elite Excelsior-A would be very much competitive with a Blooded Ambassador; this informed my earlier posts.
Another issue is that we're not measuring the performance of Explorer Corps ships against each other, but rather against the outside world. Elite Excelsior-As are very unlikely to fail event checks for the Explorer Corps, unless DCs increase. Therefore, removing them from service in favor of Ambassadors is not going to be very beneficial. For a period of 5-10 years there is no benefit, because the Ambassador has to hit Blooded to even BEGIN to get better stats. Even afterwards, well... you've replaced a ship that passes 95% or more of all challenges it ever faces with flying colors, with another ship that passes 98% or more of all challenges it faces with flying colors.
Kind of unclear whether that's worth building a new ship, waiting for crew veterancy to tick over, and rummaging up the extra points of Explorer Corps crew the Ambassador may require to operate.
Star Trek humanity on the whole is considerably more peaceable and 'enlightened' than today. That said, there may be subcultures that get into the whole 'violent bashing' thing, and we know that certain kinds of martial arts are very much alive and well in the TNG era.
Arthur C. Clarke did it for Neutron Tide. So yes, yes it is.
I think if we were playing a different quest, say, min/maxing quest, then instead of the Ambassador it might be good to re-design the Excelsior in a "light" version with, say, 5/4/4 crew and costing 180 BR 120 SR? Something like that might be "better" than the Ambassador, but it doesn't seem like us.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
The idea of such a 'pocket explorer' has certainly been bounced around.
The main arguments against it are:
1) We ARE less than happy with the crew survivability and accident-resistance of Green Excelsior-class explorers, so something with the same statline would result in a bit more attrition than we'd like.
2) Given that we've already built so many Excelsiors as a sunk cost, a new class of 'pocket explorers' would be competing with the Excelsiors for the same metaphorical space within our fleet deployment.
Anyway, I very much liked this, though it's interesting seeing violence-averse Andorians.
Leslie:
"Honestly, the Andorians used to be a heck of a lot more like the Amarki are now, as far as temper goes. When I was young, just about any Andorian over thirty or so was probably going to be touchy. They've been mellowing ever since, but... I was starting to miss the feistiness. Glad we imported a new batch of pointy ears."
The main arguments against it are:
1) We ARE less than happy with the crew survivability and accident-resistance of Green Excelsior-class explorers, so something with the same statline would result in a bit more attrition than we'd like.
2) Given that we've already built so many Excelsiors as a sunk cost, a new class of 'pocket explorers' would be competing with the Excelsiors for the same metaphorical space within our fleet deployment.
Now now, I was making "Tellarite insult-sword fighting" jokes a while ago. I'm not just a Lecarre spy, I'm a time traveling Lecarre spy.
Anyway, I very much liked this, though it's interesting seeing violence-averse Andorians.
Leslie:
"Honestly, the Andorians used to be a heck of a lot more like the Amarki are now, as far as temper goes. When I was young, just about any Andorian over thirty or so was probably going to be touchy. They've been mellowing ever since, but... I was starting to miss the feistiness. Glad we imported a new batch of pointy ears."
Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
I wonder how long Lion was there before the other Enterprise's showed up. If she had sufficient time Lion could technically have done quite a bit of looking around and found a few interesting things to report on when they get back to Starfleet.
Well... just for the sake of putting numbers to the comparisons:
The Excelsior-A is C7 S6 H4 L6 P6 D6
A pocket explorer with similar costs (an unoptimized 230/180 6/6/5) would be about C7 S7 H6 L7 P7 D7, so +1S +2H +1L +1P +1D for a total of +6 stats. I suspect I can cut about 10 SR.
A pocket explorer with similar stats would be an unoptimized 180/150 5/5/4 with the same C7 S6 H4 L6 P6 D6 and 4y build time. So savings of about 50 BR, 10 SR, 1O 1T. I suspect I can make that 1 crew all around and 20 SR.
Basically, it's technically worth doing, but we've sunk cost into the Ambassador more than anything. If we choose to continue building Excelsiors after the Ambassador is available to build, or if we plan on building Excelsiors, I would suggest we designate that Light Explorer instead.
e: OH, and C7 is really expensive, so I could probably produce a superior ship at C6 or even C5, even for combat.
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- Location
- Patriarchova
Ditto. Light Explorer, or perhaps Garrison Capship once we're no longer using them for 5YM's (though that will probably be a while).
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- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I will become sad if we start calling Excelsiors "capital ships" instead of "explorers." It'll feel like we'd forgotten what we built them for.
- Location
- Patriarchova
I will become sad if we start calling Excelsiors "capital ships" instead of "explorers." It'll feel like we'd forgotten what we built them for.
If we call ships "explorers" when they aren't actually used for exploration, then we're basically speaking Newspeak.