157pp+2pp (omake reward)=159pp
To Boldly Go... (a Starfleet quest)
- Thread starter OneirosTheWriter
- Start date
- Sci-Fi
-
- Tags
- star trek exploration fully automated luxury gay space communism top level canon (canon) #hashtagcontent all-encompassing space amoeba cardassian boy bands cardassian magical girls darkest bureaucracy debate makes the qm cackle like palpatine hoh is an empire quest it has to be foreign infiltrators more ships ship happens singers delenda est starfleet this is not an empire quest ur waifu is collective?
Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
Great! only 50 PP to go to get all 5 Colonies, 3 Diplo Pushes, the Admiral position and the Tech team at the same time Keep it up people.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
here is hoping that most of Q1 will cover some of the things we want (or at least i want) to use diplo on
Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
For the coming snakepit I put down what we need and the pp that it will cost to get them. I forget what the Tech team is but one of the others know and can fill it in later on when it is time.
4 Mining Colonies. Adrazzi Gulf 7pp each = 28pp total
1 research Colony. Adrazzi Gulf 6pp
3 Diplo Pushes. 20pp each = 60 pp total
1 Tech Team. 60pp
1 Shipyard Admiral position. 50pp
Total 204pp needed to get everything.
Our current pp total is 157pp + 2pp (omake reward) = 159pp
So in all we need an extra 45pp before the next snakepit.
Edit: Sorry I made a mistake on the costs for the mining colonies and the research colony. I have fixed it and recounted the total pp needed.
4 Mining Colonies. Adrazzi Gulf 7pp each = 28pp total
1 research Colony. Adrazzi Gulf 6pp
3 Diplo Pushes. 20pp each = 60 pp total
1 Tech Team. 60pp
1 Shipyard Admiral position. 50pp
Total 204pp needed to get everything.
Our current pp total is 157pp + 2pp (omake reward) = 159pp
So in all we need an extra 45pp before the next snakepit.
Edit: Sorry I made a mistake on the costs for the mining colonies and the research colony. I have fixed it and recounted the total pp needed.
Last edited:
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
not likely unless we get late income from the starkin becoming members or something?
i say drop the teck team or the new admiral because i don`t see us gaining that much pp.
or pay to what ever supernatural being on choice that our TF and stuff do well
i say drop the teck team or the new admiral because i don`t see us gaining that much pp.
or pay to what ever supernatural being on choice that our TF and stuff do well
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- Location
- Aotearoa
I hope we're not doomed to battle in the coming year.
Hmm. Contested environment almost certainly applies. Good choice!
I mean, as long as we're aware we're all joking.
Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
I made an error with my map it was actually 45pp not 42. I had the cost for the Mining and Research Colony switched. Once I realized my mistake I fixed it and did a full recount of the pp that we need for the snakepit.
No we need both. I would drop the diplo pushes and the mines if it means keeping the Tech Team and Admiral Positions. That is how important they are to the Federations future development in their areas.
::CoughBullshitCough::
One of them is a listening station that we have no idea what the cost will be.
I get why the tech team is important and wouldn't want to drop that, but people just keep saying the admiral is crucial without any explanation as to why we must immediately do this that is based on stated and generally applicable rules, things the QMs have said or the like rather than supposition or outright fear-mongering. If you or anyone else has such an explanation, can you please fill me in?
Nope, it's pure, absolute, complete fearmongering. And I am the originator and I claim it proudly.
On the other hand, why "must" we do anything else either? Who cares, really? All those colonies we "must" have? That's fearmongering too. No reason to expect the Cardassian will claim-jump immediately. The Dipomatic pushes? We might get boosts from events or it might end up not mattering at all. There's no diplomatic score for any power that we "must" reach. The Tech team? So we don't get designs a year or two earlier, big whoop. If we couldn't get it for some reason, everyone would just shrug, adjust their expectations, and move on.
People should vote on their priorities as makes narrative sense to them. We could be able to buy nothing at all in the snakepit and things would probably work out.
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Omake - Reaction - Alliterate
- Location
- Aotearoa
Reaction
"What the hell did I just listen to?" Marek sh'Pard turned and whispered to his twin sister.
"Well... perhaps... it's a reflection of how much she cares about Starfleet? If I had to guess, I'd say the loss of the Sharien affected her deeply." Genn replied, ever the more measured of the two.
Their hushed conversation made a local breach in the introspective spell that had settled over the cadets as the legendary figure left the stage. Like an echo, pockets of murmured conversation rippled around the hall until there was a loud hubbub in a dozen languages. Quite apart from the content, everyone in charge seemed rather surprised at the brevity of the address- Marek noted some Academy officers having an animated conversation on stage.
"She sounded like a defeated old woman. She should leave Starfleet to those confident enough to take the hard decisions!"
"Marek. You know I love you, but you're being an ass. Again. Admiral ka'Sharren has saved the Federation many times over and is an Andorian to admire. All she's saying is to be aware of the weight of your actions. Even a Starfleet ship Captain regularly makes decisions with the potential to impact billions of sentients. If she cautions against arrogance... you of all people should listen."
"Pheh. Is it really arrogance if you are the best?" Marek asked with his winning grin, the one that roughly half the time diffused the confrontations his brash demeanor engendered. Genn usually managed to avert most of the rest.
"She would know."
Marek frowned. "Dammit, sis. You know I hate it when you're right."
"I'm always right. Just remember that when you're my XO."
"Hey!"
"You should be glad I'll want you on my Explorer. No-one else is going to put up with you for five years!" she teased.
Eventually the figures on stage reached a decision and a figure wearing Lieutenant rank markings, probably part of the Commandants staff, tentatively stepped up to the podium. "Ahh...Attention. Attention cadets!" A semblance of order began to appear but conversation did not die- this figure lacked the Admirals effortless charisma. "Thankyou. If you'd like to exit to the rear, refreshments will be served in Reception Hall Astris shortly."
Cadets began filtering out to the reception area, where catering staff were hurriedly finishing putting out dishes to suit the wide variety of pallets present among the intake. Genn and Marek joined them. The pair stood out- some strange genetic quirk had given the twins dark hair, becoming redder as she aged in the case of Genn. The effect was stark against their Andorian skin. Marek identified his target and drove straight for his favoured Orion spiced skewers , ignoring the forming queue and the grumbles that resulted.
"Want some?"
"No thanks." Genn had more gracefully retrieved a plate of Bajoran vegetables, Risan chips and Andorian dips.
"More for me."
"I overheard that cute Caitian cadet saying- seemingly to no-one in particular but in my earshot as I passed- that the rumor is the Commandant herself will be teaching a class this year."
"Huh. I bet that's when she gives the flip side to that boring speech and exhorts us to push back the boundaries of the Federation, kicking ass in the name of diplomacy."
"You think? I'll take that bet."
With that the twins fell into conversation with a circle of other excited first year Cadets from across the Federation, including one from here on earth.
---------------------------
My first TBG omake attempt. There's one property crossover that I've not noticed, at least.
"What the hell did I just listen to?" Marek sh'Pard turned and whispered to his twin sister.
"Well... perhaps... it's a reflection of how much she cares about Starfleet? If I had to guess, I'd say the loss of the Sharien affected her deeply." Genn replied, ever the more measured of the two.
Their hushed conversation made a local breach in the introspective spell that had settled over the cadets as the legendary figure left the stage. Like an echo, pockets of murmured conversation rippled around the hall until there was a loud hubbub in a dozen languages. Quite apart from the content, everyone in charge seemed rather surprised at the brevity of the address- Marek noted some Academy officers having an animated conversation on stage.
"She sounded like a defeated old woman. She should leave Starfleet to those confident enough to take the hard decisions!"
"Marek. You know I love you, but you're being an ass. Again. Admiral ka'Sharren has saved the Federation many times over and is an Andorian to admire. All she's saying is to be aware of the weight of your actions. Even a Starfleet ship Captain regularly makes decisions with the potential to impact billions of sentients. If she cautions against arrogance... you of all people should listen."
"Pheh. Is it really arrogance if you are the best?" Marek asked with his winning grin, the one that roughly half the time diffused the confrontations his brash demeanor engendered. Genn usually managed to avert most of the rest.
"She would know."
Marek frowned. "Dammit, sis. You know I hate it when you're right."
"I'm always right. Just remember that when you're my XO."
"Hey!"
"You should be glad I'll want you on my Explorer. No-one else is going to put up with you for five years!" she teased.
Eventually the figures on stage reached a decision and a figure wearing Lieutenant rank markings, probably part of the Commandants staff, tentatively stepped up to the podium. "Ahh...Attention. Attention cadets!" A semblance of order began to appear but conversation did not die- this figure lacked the Admirals effortless charisma. "Thankyou. If you'd like to exit to the rear, refreshments will be served in Reception Hall Astris shortly."
Cadets began filtering out to the reception area, where catering staff were hurriedly finishing putting out dishes to suit the wide variety of pallets present among the intake. Genn and Marek joined them. The pair stood out- some strange genetic quirk had given the twins dark hair, becoming redder as she aged in the case of Genn. The effect was stark against their Andorian skin. Marek identified his target and drove straight for his favoured Orion spiced skewers , ignoring the forming queue and the grumbles that resulted.
"Want some?"
"No thanks." Genn had more gracefully retrieved a plate of Bajoran vegetables, Risan chips and Andorian dips.
"More for me."
"I overheard that cute Caitian cadet saying- seemingly to no-one in particular but in my earshot as I passed- that the rumor is the Commandant herself will be teaching a class this year."
"Huh. I bet that's when she gives the flip side to that boring speech and exhorts us to push back the boundaries of the Federation, kicking ass in the name of diplomacy."
"You think? I'll take that bet."
With that the twins fell into conversation with a circle of other excited first year Cadets from across the Federation, including one from here on earth.
---------------------------
My first TBG omake attempt. There's one property crossover that I've not noticed, at least.
Last edited:
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
The difference is that in all those other areas, we know that something bad would happen, or could happen; we have explicit knowledge that "there is X% chance of bad outcome Y if we don't do Z."
We know with 100% confidence that lacking a particular tech team will result in us getting certain ship designs a year later, and consequently always having fewer of those ships and more of other, less advanced ship designs. In addition there will be some pileup in the design process and I'm not sure I understand that part of the problem. [shrug]
We know with there is SOME risk of the Cardassians swiping a colony site out from under us. If the cost of forestalling this were commensurate with both the admiral position and the tech team, I'd actually prefer taking this risk, but the cost is not thus commensurate. Also, some kinds of colonies provide a PP trickle, which means it's actively worth slightly more to buy them earlier, even in scarce PP years. [Again, a 6pp colony that provides a +1pp trickle is like a bond that pays 16% annual interest forever; it's a thing that anyone would be incredibly happy to buy as many as they could of in real life, an that's before we even consider the 'real' resources created by the colony]
We have a rough sense of the risks and probabilities at work if we don't do the diplomatic pushes- there are known expectation values we can assign to "so how much relations will we gain naturally" and "so what might happen if relationships are not improved (fast enough?)."
There is no known or knowable information about what bad things will happen if we begin federalization without expanding Shipyard Operations. Especially now that we have indications that federalization will be a multi-year process, at least in terms of the stand-up/stand-down time for the various fleets' ships.
Telling us we should worry about a known and precedented problem that may or may not arise is one thing. Telling us we should worry about a problem that exists only in the part of your brain that predicts foreseeable problems, one that we know nothing about the scope or likelihood of? That's a different thing.
Night
Widow Null
- Location
- Hoff
Dunno man something about acting in the face of a known and verifiable threat vs. one that exists solely in your head as far as we can determine.
If you want to go full solipsism, that's okay, but it's not exactly a good argument for why we should vote your way?
lbmaian
a thirsty squirrel
- Location
- USA
So you're not going to be all salty if your "mandatory" SYO admiralship loses in the snakepit? Things would probably work out after all
(Disclaimer: I have no beef in this SYO admiralship vs tech team debate - I just think the salt here is ridiculous.)
Omake - Aurora: A Day in the Life - Simon_Jester
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Hm. Here's a comedy piece that practically wrote itself after By Your Northern Lights...
Aurora- A Day in the Life
USS AuroraAurora- A Day in the Life
Stardate 28041.5
Main Navigation
The lieutenant keeping an eye on subspace conditions turned to glance at her second. This watch, she shared with the new kid- Dmitrievich. Fresh from the academy, short and broad-shouldered, with a shock of hair so blond it was almost white.
They'd gotten settled in, ahead of the steady stream of processing updates and course optimizations for a few minutes. There was time for a bit of small talk, and she was curious about the new ensign she'd be working with. "So where are you from, Ensign?"
He smiled. "From Petropavlosk. On the Kamchatka peninsula."
There was a subtle change in the sound of the computers' cooling fans.
No Place
No Time
There. There it was. The hated name. The most hated name, from the Voyage of the Damned. That which had, once, set in motion the events that convinced him that God was dead and all was folly.
Kamchatka.
Slowly he turned, step by step, centimeter by centimeter...
USS Aurora
Stardate 28042.3
Main Engineering
"What's the emergency?"
"It's Ensign Dmitrievich, sir. He was in the port shuttlebay auxiliary airlock and it malfunctioned."
"What!?"
"He seems to be all right, we can see him through the viewport. But we can't open the inner hatch to get at him. You see, the sensors monitoring the outer hatch malfunctioned and the failsafes... failed safe."
"Ohhhh." If the inner hatch controls on the airlock weren't sure the outer hatch was closed, they wouldn't open. Physically impossible; not even the manual overrides would risk it. "Have him put on one of the emergency suits in the locker and spacewalk out to the next lock."
"We watched him try it. We think the sensor monitoring the inner hatch also malfunctioned, so the outer hatch won't open either."
"So we beam him out, beam a repair crew in, and fix the sensors."
"We're getting interference patterns. Something's malfunctioning pretty badly in there..."
"What about using the internal sensors to analyze- waaait. Let me guess what you were going to say next. 'Uh boss, those would be the same internal sensors that can't decide whether the hatches are open or closed, in a heavily armored chamber?' "
"More or less, sir. The transporter chief doesn't want to take the chance of scrambling Dmitrievich on beamout."
"Good call, but bad luck for us. Get cutting torches, then. We'll cut him out, carefully. After we make absolutely sure the outer hatch is really thoroughly closed, and slap an emergency patch on it anyway."
"Yes, sir."
He could tell the lieutenant was slumping at the prospect of the job. Hard to blame her. "Don't worry, from the sound of it, we'd have had to do this anyway"
"Plan A?"
"Talk to Science, see if they can get enough instruments in play to parse out that interference pattern."
USS Aurora
Stardate 28042.4
Starboard Dorsal Saucer Airlock Access Corridor
"Hang on, he's holding up his PADD to the viewport." He craned over.
The chief didn't glance up from her own tricorder display, monitoring the slow progress of the energy cutter through the thick, ultra-refractory metal. She simply nodded slightly and asked, "What's it say,?"
The spacer looking through the viewport squinted. "Please... hurry... need... bathroom..."
"Ouch. How long does Science think it'll take to get him out with the transporter?"
"They said their analysis should be done in three hours."
And getting through the hatch safely without risking frying Dmitrievich would take four. There was only one thing to say.
"Ouch."
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The Thin Purple Line
Admiral Condol, Commander of the Second Padani Defense Fleet looked down at the box of supplies from his soon to be vacant desk and sighed. 150 years in service of the commonwealth, defending his people from all the horrors found in the far reaches of space. He often wondered if his continued promotions were more to do with his own capabilities or because no one else was left. Well, he thought with a ruethful grin, "it seems old age has done what so many other horrors could not." As he hefted his container and moved to leave Condol couldn't help but reminisce about days gone by. When the future seemed so much brighter.
Then Ensign Condol had begun his career aboard the new generation of spacecraft that his people hoped would pave the way for future colonies. There was a sense of cautious optimism in the air. His people had narrowly escaped nuclear annhilation, put down the augmented extremist that attempted a coup, and begun to spread out across the stars. It was a time of new beginning, a time of great discovery, a time to set the past aside from and move forward towards a brighter future. Condol, like many of his generation, had thought that the worst was behind them and that the Interstellar Commonwealth was poised to ascend to ever greater heights. The galaxy was quick to disabuse them of this notion.
At first everything seemed to be going well. Colonies were being established, the fleet was growing, and they had even managed to make first contact with another friendly warp capable species. The Council of Warath had enthusiastically greeted the first Pedani ships to enter their space and relations seemed cordial. We were even more excited to learn that the Warathians shared such a close resemblance to our own physiology, thus supporting the theory of an ancient precursor race that had been making its way into the mainstream of scientific thought. The first sign that anything was wrong was when one of the diplomats developed a rash after returning from the planet. When his condition worsened the medical staff became concerned, but by then it was too late. The trade deals were already in place and thousands of tons of materials and produce were on their way all across the Commonwealth. Recxel Syndrome claimed the lives of millions before our scientists were able to synthesize a cure. Even more damaging, the Warathians suffered even greater losses. Their cities were overcrowded and their medical personnel overwhelmed. By the time the dust settled Warathians were a broken people and any hopes of a peaceful expansion into the stars was lost.
Next came first contact with the Tallarian Empire, a hostile power that the Pedani spent decades fighting before finally crushing and subsumming their one time neighbor. Condol was by then the first officer, and later the Captain, of one of the Commonwealth's new line of capital ships serving on the frontline of the conflict. Condol would first experienced the horrors of war here as he tore through the Tallarian's ships. It was here that he first ordered soldiers to their deaths, listening to the cacaphony of death from the bridge as brave Pedani's were space, torn apart, or vaporized so that others could live. It was here that Condol first held the line against the darkness that sought to end his people's existence. And then the war was over. The Tallerians would be integrated into the Commonwealth, and his people could breath easy once more. Or so they thought.
S.H.O.D.A.N was originally designed as a program that would oversee the day to day operations of the orbital installations over Chara and the other colonies. It would run space traffic control, regulate the weather control network, and if necessary, oversee the planetary defense platforms. Over time as it's programming evolved Shodan's responsibilities grew to include everything from automated shipping governance to management of the sub space relay network and the extranet. No one knows when it... when she developed sentience, but what Condol did remember was the day Shodan launched her attack. The screams in the streets as mechanized droids slaughtered civilians by the thousands. The orbital defense platforms raining fire from and sky onto cities and ships alike whenever they came in range. The weather regulators causing localized natural disasters in order to terrorize the populous. All for the twisted amusement of the sadistic A.I. They finally managed to isolate and purge her influence from the network, but not before Shodan wreaked a crippling blow to Chara's ecosystem that persists to the present. Compared to the devestation her rampage caused, the Horizon's diplomatic machinations were almost a relief.
The list stretched on from there. Extra galactic parasites attempting to subvert the government, a stellar core fragment annhilation one of their colonies, and vengeful godlike entities haunted Condol's restless dreams. Phantoms of enemies fought and battles long past that he had been forced to lead his people through. It should have come as no surprise that when he first heard of the meeting between their forces and another, far larger, Federation, Admiral Condol felt nothing but a sense of foreboding. No species could hold those kind of ideals without a dark side to prop it up. The Horizon has taught the Pedani much about "helpful" aliens who only wanted to befriend them. And yet. And Yet... There was no double cross, no quiet backdoor diplomacy. Sure the Federations had shown aggressive tendencies in the past with their prosecution of the Arcadian War and their attacks on the Orion Syndicate, however both of these actions were backed by overwhelming evidence that the power represented a clear and present threat to the stability of the Federation or its allies. After years of diplomatic envoys, joint research and information sharing, and a general osmosis of their respective cultures, even the most hardline xenophobics were beginning to waver. Admiral Condol had never been more happy to be wrong in his life.
As he exited the building and made his way towards the waiting hover taxi, Condol allowed himself a smile. Perhaps the future could be better than the endless parade of horrors and near catastrophes that haunted his past. He had held the line for his people against seemingly impossible odds time and time again. Maybe all of the hardships and struggles of his life would mean a time of peace and prosperity for his people. As the taxi sailed towards the brilliant hues of the sunset, Admiral Condol allowed himself to do something he had not since the halcyon days of his youth. He allowed his mind to dream.
Admiral Condol, Commander of the Second Padani Defense Fleet looked down at the box of supplies from his soon to be vacant desk and sighed. 150 years in service of the commonwealth, defending his people from all the horrors found in the far reaches of space. He often wondered if his continued promotions were more to do with his own capabilities or because no one else was left. Well, he thought with a ruethful grin, "it seems old age has done what so many other horrors could not." As he hefted his container and moved to leave Condol couldn't help but reminisce about days gone by. When the future seemed so much brighter.
Then Ensign Condol had begun his career aboard the new generation of spacecraft that his people hoped would pave the way for future colonies. There was a sense of cautious optimism in the air. His people had narrowly escaped nuclear annhilation, put down the augmented extremist that attempted a coup, and begun to spread out across the stars. It was a time of new beginning, a time of great discovery, a time to set the past aside from and move forward towards a brighter future. Condol, like many of his generation, had thought that the worst was behind them and that the Interstellar Commonwealth was poised to ascend to ever greater heights. The galaxy was quick to disabuse them of this notion.
At first everything seemed to be going well. Colonies were being established, the fleet was growing, and they had even managed to make first contact with another friendly warp capable species. The Council of Warath had enthusiastically greeted the first Pedani ships to enter their space and relations seemed cordial. We were even more excited to learn that the Warathians shared such a close resemblance to our own physiology, thus supporting the theory of an ancient precursor race that had been making its way into the mainstream of scientific thought. The first sign that anything was wrong was when one of the diplomats developed a rash after returning from the planet. When his condition worsened the medical staff became concerned, but by then it was too late. The trade deals were already in place and thousands of tons of materials and produce were on their way all across the Commonwealth. Recxel Syndrome claimed the lives of millions before our scientists were able to synthesize a cure. Even more damaging, the Warathians suffered even greater losses. Their cities were overcrowded and their medical personnel overwhelmed. By the time the dust settled Warathians were a broken people and any hopes of a peaceful expansion into the stars was lost.
Next came first contact with the Tallarian Empire, a hostile power that the Pedani spent decades fighting before finally crushing and subsumming their one time neighbor. Condol was by then the first officer, and later the Captain, of one of the Commonwealth's new line of capital ships serving on the frontline of the conflict. Condol would first experienced the horrors of war here as he tore through the Tallarian's ships. It was here that he first ordered soldiers to their deaths, listening to the cacaphony of death from the bridge as brave Pedani's were space, torn apart, or vaporized so that others could live. It was here that Condol first held the line against the darkness that sought to end his people's existence. And then the war was over. The Tallerians would be integrated into the Commonwealth, and his people could breath easy once more. Or so they thought.
S.H.O.D.A.N was originally designed as a program that would oversee the day to day operations of the orbital installations over Chara and the other colonies. It would run space traffic control, regulate the weather control network, and if necessary, oversee the planetary defense platforms. Over time as it's programming evolved Shodan's responsibilities grew to include everything from automated shipping governance to management of the sub space relay network and the extranet. No one knows when it... when she developed sentience, but what Condol did remember was the day Shodan launched her attack. The screams in the streets as mechanized droids slaughtered civilians by the thousands. The orbital defense platforms raining fire from and sky onto cities and ships alike whenever they came in range. The weather regulators causing localized natural disasters in order to terrorize the populous. All for the twisted amusement of the sadistic A.I. They finally managed to isolate and purge her influence from the network, but not before Shodan wreaked a crippling blow to Chara's ecosystem that persists to the present. Compared to the devestation her rampage caused, the Horizon's diplomatic machinations were almost a relief.
The list stretched on from there. Extra galactic parasites attempting to subvert the government, a stellar core fragment annhilation one of their colonies, and vengeful godlike entities haunted Condol's restless dreams. Phantoms of enemies fought and battles long past that he had been forced to lead his people through. It should have come as no surprise that when he first heard of the meeting between their forces and another, far larger, Federation, Admiral Condol felt nothing but a sense of foreboding. No species could hold those kind of ideals without a dark side to prop it up. The Horizon has taught the Pedani much about "helpful" aliens who only wanted to befriend them. And yet. And Yet... There was no double cross, no quiet backdoor diplomacy. Sure the Federations had shown aggressive tendencies in the past with their prosecution of the Arcadian War and their attacks on the Orion Syndicate, however both of these actions were backed by overwhelming evidence that the power represented a clear and present threat to the stability of the Federation or its allies. After years of diplomatic envoys, joint research and information sharing, and a general osmosis of their respective cultures, even the most hardline xenophobics were beginning to waver. Admiral Condol had never been more happy to be wrong in his life.
As he exited the building and made his way towards the waiting hover taxi, Condol allowed himself a smile. Perhaps the future could be better than the endless parade of horrors and near catastrophes that haunted his past. He had held the line for his people against seemingly impossible odds time and time again. Maybe all of the hardships and struggles of his life would mean a time of peace and prosperity for his people. As the taxi sailed towards the brilliant hues of the sunset, Admiral Condol allowed himself to do something he had not since the halcyon days of his youth. He allowed his mind to dream.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I feel almost guilty that a Dreams chapter I've been working on for a few weeks is starting to come through; it's not like I'm spamming omakes on purpose.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
MOAR OMAKES
FEED THE MACHINE
(Reminder that the Discord has an Omake channel for anyone looking for help with stuff like ideas or looking for beta readers or anything like that)
Edit: seriously, please ask for help, peeps want to help.
FEED THE MACHINE
(Reminder that the Discord has an Omake channel for anyone looking for help with stuff like ideas or looking for beta readers or anything like that)
Edit: seriously, please ask for help, peeps want to help.
Last edited:
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Just don't color your stuff, please: On white theme it's unreadable.
Yeah, I always try to strip out the colour and go to the default when posting the body of my text because itll do that if you're not careful
Omake - Dreams: Chapter Beth - Simon_Jester
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
DREAMS
Chapter Beth
Chapter Beth
Beneath Hungry Echoes
On the Eve of Nightmare
[A Night And A Day Before First Kadesh]
Your joint expedition makes camp on a little plateau within comfortable striking distance of what you know, with horrible certainty, was the Garden of Kadesh, that is no more.
Most of the Federation spacers, faintly reflected on this side of the Veil, shimmer around your fires. A few linger long enough to make at least glancing contact with the steady presences of their ships. You cherish those brief touches all the more for that.
By contrast, the Romulans seem almost more real here on the Other Side than they are in life. They arrived, regiment upon regiment, on the wings of their raptors, who flicker and fade with cries of salutation to you and yours. Now the Romulans' camp stands apart, a thing of even trenches and ordered lines and subtle banter among neatly arranged tents, as is their way. The hearts of their fleet are nigh-invisible in any case, save when they choose to act. You're starting to learn the raptors' ways, but they are as aloof now as they were in Johnny's day, even if you've taught them not to sneer quite so stiffly at the daughters of Terra.
Your own kind, though, are easier to see.
Challorn, leading the screening elements, swift and clever, patient and supple of mind, under the hand of a captain you'd have envied her five years ago. Fierce little Faithful and Svai, wild and daring and armed with turret guns whose sting you remember painfully. When you close your eyes you can almost remember the trench carved in your secondary hull, when you came under Reliant's hammer a generation ago. The Mirandas chatter amiably with their doughty near-sisters, Centaur and Yukikaze- similar in form, younger, sturdier and more versatile, but no less bold.
T'Mir stands apart, unaccustomed to the line of battle and the councils of war. She is slight and reticent and observant, the shy yet graceful Maid of the Distant Clan in all truth.
And then there is Riala, not of your nation but standing with you. The Amarki burn as bright as Klingons here, but blink in and out like your own crews. Either they're only able to touch the spirit of their flagship in brief bursts, or that's as long as they dare to, at a stretch.
You're not sure you blame them. She is trim-lined and dark-armored, her lean, carnivorous expression that screams "mad, bad, and dangerous to know." That hungry look grows hungrier with every word she hears of the nature of the Enemy, and she is- almost- every inch the Accuser you dueled three years ago. Though you note with a certain bemusement the silvery patch on her pauldron. Once a bright line scored by the tip of your sword, now a thing of its own, seeming to grow on her. The blessing of the Federation, or perhaps its curse, is that you cannot touch it and remain unmarked. Be she demon, champion, or both, you fancy that Riala will never be quite the same thing she was.
You certainly aren't.
Your sisters have their doubts, but they're long past the point of turning up their noses at new allies. That water passed over the dam at Dunwich.
And at that, your gaze passes back to your direct sisters. More of you have gathered together for the voyage to Kadesh than ever before in this life of yours. Excelsior, who eyes her surroundings with the boldness that befits the first of the new breed, and years spent under Hikaru's hand- but also with the wary respect you taught her in childhood.
Kumari, known to you of old, but never nearer than she is today. She was never truly your sister before, but the Service brings your motherworlds closer together year by year, and she is newly reborn to the Excelsiors' sisterhood. Some things didn't change, though. Blue eyes in a blue face look upon you as they always did, with an odd, knowing air. As if she understands something about your secret heart, something that you do not.
Courageous. You see Nyota's shaping touch in her stance and the lines of her face, but with a taut new discipline that must be the hand of her new captain. She still looks fresh-faced and eager, as you suppose you must as well, no more than ten years old in this body. Though when she thinks no one's looking, traces of the Ihrloth still haunt her.
Sarek, limping and with her left arm bound up to her side. It took fifty thousand tons of thermoplast and concrete poured into the craters in her flame-wracked hull to get her astrodynamics capable of anything over Warp Three. Her hull is strung with more jury-rigs and hotwiring than you care to think of. All of it together is barely enough to leave her able to fight, after her duel with the fallen, stolen, warped dragon that once was T'Seren. She is far from being at her best.
Should she be here? You whisper your fears to the sighing wind.
She'll shine, an old grey ghost, seldom far from your side, whispers back. She remembers. But you, as you are now, remember too- what befell your sister, the last time this happened.
You wish Yorktown was here at your side. But you're missing a great many absent companions, today.
Her. Or Lexington, or Saratoga. Or Hood, Potemkin, Exeter, Republic, and the rest. The old breed, your comrades of the long bright age you fear may be ebbing. Jim's age. Would that any of them could be here, rather than passing away in their sleep, dead once more from the dissolution of their bones. Rust and decay and the scrapyard are a fate far from unknown to your kind, one you all learn to face bravely. But it is cruel, cruel, to lose so many, so quickly, with so little hope of seeing them again.
All the more when you desperately need them now.
And the worst of it? Of the old sisters who could have come to your side anyway, in a happier life... The one who came closest to outliving the long twenty-third century, one of your few closest friends in Jim's heyday, is the one most fully lost. Reborn to the new breed a bare fifteen years ago, she is nowhere to be found. Not though you've searched every realm you know, and called in a dozen favors.
She is nowhere east of the suns and west of the moons, not roaming live in the flush of her power, not sailing the Isles of the Blessed. Not even slumbering in Avalon, as she has done before, as you're sure she would if she'd simply crumbled away with all the rest of your old sisters, save only Cheron.
Excalibur is gone, beyond the fields you know, and you miss her terribly.
You look down, trying to be strong. You smooth your gold skirt, the one Jim gave you. You can feel the troubling influences trying to pry at the souls of your crew, and you have a love to sing back to sleep.
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I had honestly kind of forgotten there was a discord. Huh. I might take advantage of that, but at this point I'll admit I kind of just want to be done more than I want it to be good.
Anyway, I'm finally almost done with the actual writing on mine and have a number of ideas for other (much, much shorter) ones for soon after. This one is likely to end up at over 9000 words (yes, I too am familiar with long dead memes. No, it wasn't intentional.), and unfortunately the format makes splitting it a bit more awkward than it otherwise would be. It's been a lot of work, but it has, if anything, reinforced my deep conviction that 50k does not get to be considered novel length.
Anyway, I'm finally almost done with the actual writing on mine and have a number of ideas for other (much, much shorter) ones for soon after. This one is likely to end up at over 9000 words (yes, I too am familiar with long dead memes. No, it wasn't intentional.), and unfortunately the format makes splitting it a bit more awkward than it otherwise would be. It's been a lot of work, but it has, if anything, reinforced my deep conviction that 50k does not get to be considered novel length.