#diplomacy ship discretion

[teaandinanity]

I'm not even sure which October Make Stuff thing I'm doing (possibly I'm doing like five of them, just, badly?) but I had three prompts at the top of this document while I was writing:

7KPP Promptober: Obfuscate | Inktober: Dream | Fictober: "It's not too late [...]"

Here's Calanthia, in my possibly-an-AU where she goes home after the Summit and pines for Jasper for 7 years while Fixing The World for a distraction from her pining.

–

Seven years ago, she fought for a spot as a member of the delegation; competition was ferocious for those seven spots. Particularly given only five were really up for grabs. An eligible prince and princess, after all, would hardly be allowed to remain in Revaire during a Summit year.

Eligibility as a chaperone is, thankfully, a less fraught affair, for all there is only one spot available. When the younger generation have begun jockying for the seven delegate spots, she makes it known that she wishes to go. The queen nods to her and says, with the ghost of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth,

“That can, I think, be arranged.”

There might be other candidates; if there are, they never truly contend with her for the position. After seven years being spoken of as Katyia’s successor, she has many friends, more allies, and all manor of favors she could call in. She hears a whisper that she has requested the place, and no other whispers materialize to counter it.

Most people seem pleased at the prospect, even if as a chaperone she will be tasked more with watching over the delegates rather than truly taking part. The consensus seems to be that her mere presence will encourage this Summit in a similar direction to her own. All but the most strident war hawks optimistically look forward to increased trade and stronger diplomatic ties, a rising tide that raises all ships.

Revaire’s position is worlds away from what it was when she attended her Summit; the disposition of her people, too, is wholly different.

She looks over the children, amazed at how young they all seem. It is not only in years; they seem less weighed-down, less weary, less wary than her own cohort. They’re largely respectful of her, but not intimidated.

When she was in their shoes, she was at least a little afraid of almost everyone with power. But then, the Revaire that saw her to adulthood was a very different place. In her homeland, caution was a prerequisite to continued existence. Care is still wise, but carelessness is no longer liable to get one killed.

Some of Revaire’s young delegates, in fact, could do with a little cowing; one boy, who does not have half Zarad’s charm with it, tries to flirt with her when the ship is scarcely out of port. She gives him her most unamused look, borne of being the second-eldest daughter of a large family, further honed by years of making a career of diplomacy and overseeing a sea of nieces and nephews. 

He looks less abashed than he ought. Well; at least he has the nerve to try to brazen it out. Courage won’t be enough on its own, and alone it’s no advantage at all, but it’s not a terrible beginning.

“You will,” she informs him, “need significantly more charm to be able to carry off that level of shamelessness with any degree of success.”

The other younglings have all gone still in a way that suggests listening for possible advantage, so she projects well enough to be heard rather than keeping her rebuke quiet and continues,

“Corvali would largely condemn you on the grounds of gracelessness, the Arlish and Wellish on lack of discretion and manners, Jiyelians on the breech of well-known and generally accepted social mores. The Hiseans often appreciate a little playful effrontery, but no one else is likely to be amused.”

“What about Skalt?” one girl asks, with a grin and a glint in her eye that says she, for one, would very much appreciate tips on how to flirt with a lady who could heft her over one shoulder.

“Don’t flirt with anyone from Skalt unless you mean it and you don’t mind being up to your elbows in snow for three months. The ladies are not inclined to marry out and they seldom send male delegates.”

She considers the group and then addresses the girl and the other young ladies.

“Do consider making friends, though; they’re generally very happy to teach other young ladies how to use knives.”

Several more look intrigued at that. The original young man looks nervous, now.

“They are not permitted weapons on the Isle any more than the rest of us are, but in my own year a Wellish Lord did have to be rescued from stabbing by fork after causing offense. Best avoid being in his shoes, mm?”

–

It’s a short voyage - only two days. Enough time for introductions amongst themselves, but not enough for anyone to really begin forming cliques that might hamper the Summit’s overall aims. 

A few of the children - and they are children - apply to her for bits of advice. Some of them want advice on deportment or conduct, and here she can only tell them what she told herself during her own year;

Be yourself, but be the best possible version. Be polite. Look for things to like in the people around you, because the point of this is to make connections. Express gratitude. Extend grace. Know your goals, and bear them in mind.

They do not ask what her goals were. All the world believes it knows; believes that she went to make a name for herself, the way ladies of middling birth are seldom permitted to do.

And they are not wholly wrong; she did want that, as far as it goes.

But she’d intended to do it in part with a marriage. A duke or a prince seemed achievable, if she could reach the Summit itself. Among the best of all seven nations, she felt confident she could find a partner to help her change the world for the better, or at least a friend to stand beside her and lend weight to her voice.

She tried to keep that goal in mind.

But she found a different dream, on the isle.

Everyone knows, now, that she, like Katyia, did not marry.

They generally assume this is because she, like Katyia, did not lose her heart.

It is the easiest lie she has ever told, because she never had to say a word.

[eloquenceandemphasis]

Stranded (Shoot for the Moon)

All in all, Brooke had gotten out of worse situations than this.

Granted, she had had her old crew with her then, along with an AI who would let her do things that were probably illegal, but she had done it.

The flight crew was long gone. Whether they had escape podded out, been abducted, or had died, she wasn’t sure, but they were gone.

“Don’t panic!” she shouted to the diplomats, who were looking around desperately. “I’ve got it under control.” She forced her way into the empty control room.

“My name is Brooke Miller,” she told the AI. “Anthropologist and IT specialist.” The AI beeped.

“You’re not authorized to access this control panel.” Brooke sighed.

“Look, it’s an emergency. No one left on the ship is authorized to access the control panel.”

“Shutting down.” The AI cut itself off, leaving the control panel unusable. Brooke pulled the USB stick containing Edward out of her pocket and stuck it into the ship, booting him up using voice commands.

“Hello!” he chirped. “Welcome aboard the-- this isn’t the RS Pathfinder.”

“This is the DS Discretion, Ed,” she replied. “I booted you up because I need your help. Can you grant me access to the control panel?” Edward sighed.

“I suppose.” The control panel glowed to life. Brooke’s fingers flew over the keys.

“Warning-- this program is not supported by the Discretion,” the original AI chimed in. “Please cease running program E.D-ware 7.0.0.4.”

“My name is Edward!” Edward yelped indignantly, force-closing the other AI. “I don’t know why you brought me here; I’m clearly not respected here.” He went to boot off.

“Edward, no,” Brooke ordered. “I need your help. We’re stuck in space, and I need your help to fix the engine.”

“Get Miles to do it.” Brooke shook her head.

“Miles isn’t here, Edward. I need you. Run a diagnostic on the engine room. Tell me what’s wrong.” There was a moment of silence as Edward decided whether or not he was going to listen to her.

“Running diagnostic…” he said after a moment. “Done. Warp Drive Accelerator is fried. The engine seems okay, but the battery has been overcharged.”

“Great! How do I fix it?”

“You can’t. If you continue running that battery, you may cause it to explode.” Brooke rubbed her temples, trying to figure out her next move.

“Connect me to someone at mission control. Anyone. If they won’t pick up, try someone else. Don’t stop until someone takes my call. In the meantime, get me over the intercom.” A microphone came out of the panel.

“Excuse me? Anyone left aboard the DS Discretion, this is Brooke Miller. You may know me as one of the former members of the RS Pathfinder. I’ve figured out what’s wrong with the ship. Can anyone try to find a battery?” She severed the connection to the intercom and sat there for a second, taking deep breaths.

“Brooke, I connected you to the code-breaking division of mission control.” She took one last deep breath, allowing it to come out in a sigh.

“This is Brooke Miller aboard the DS Discretion. We were attacked at an unknown location, and in trying to escape, our battery was overcharged and our Warp Drive Accelerator is fried, so we have no means of getting elsewhere. Our location is GN-z11 35, 54, 3.”

“Brooke!” Artemis’s voice called in greeting. “It’s so good to hear from you.” Brooke couldn’t help but smile. “Your profile reads MIA.”

“Yeah. We’re stranded quite a way from where we’re supposed to be with no way to get back. Could you get a read on our location and send a rescue? We need an accelerator and a battery.”

“On it. I’ll transmit your information to Emerson. He’s the only one who reads my emails. Can I get your ID? Protocol, and all that.”

“B-dash-4-5-Alpha.” Brooke put her head down on the console.

“Did you hear about Miles?” Artemis asked. Brooke could hear their fingers tapping on the keyboard.

“What about Miles?” Brooke thought she knew most everything about her friend.

“He’s missing. The Battlecruiser Ares was shot down recently.” Brooke paled, worrying for the astrochemist. “I was on his profile and got the alert. No one has managed to locate him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Brooke replied, feeling her voice shake. “Miles is resilient.”

“Emerson’s sent a rescue ship. It’s on the way.”

“Thanks, Artemis. I’ve missed you so much.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve missed everyone so much. Miles. Harper. Thalia.”

“Did you miss me?” Edward chimed in. Brooke heard Artemis laugh over the transmitter.

“Yes, Ed, I missed you. The standard AI isn’t nearly as personable as you.” Edward beeped happily. “So, Art, how’s Earth treating you?”

“Not well. No one even talks to me most days. I know that they’re just trying to keep me contained so I don’t have a chance to “turn” on them, but it’s boring. The most exciting thing I do every day is secretary for some of my co-workers when they remember I exist.” Brooke tsked,

“They’re missing out on one of the coolest people in the code-breaking division, then.” She could practically feel the happiness radiating off of Artemis. “I got accused of starting a war. I’m considering throwing them off the ship.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, Brooke.” Brooke sighed and put her head back down.

“You’re probably right.”

“Alright. You should be good now, so I’ll leave you be. Good luck, Brooke.” Artemis signed off.

Brooke was alone on her ship, floating in space.

[melestasflight]

Finwë & Maedhros headcanon (rambling)

So, I’ve been thinking about Maedhros’ decision to swear the Oath and I’m now convinced that it has to do majorly with the shock of Finwë’s death. These ruminations came after reading some responses on @outofangband blog but are not directly related. In my HC Maitimo is a proper, diplomatic, mild-character prince and the jump to the Oath seems a bit radical. So this is my attempt to rationalize him swearing the Oath initially.

Would love to know what people think about Finwë & Maitimo's relationship and these possible explanations:

· Maitimo was 100% Finwë’s favorite grandkid, being the first, most diplomatic, a scholar and most involved at court.

· Maitimo is Finwë’s right hand at court – they both love administration, governance, tax and trade management, and probably nerd out heavily on linguistics and Noldo history. They are basically the origin of Social Sciences and Humanities.

· Finwë knows that he will eventually retire as High King to spend more time with family and because he is tired. He also knows that Fëanor will get fed up being High King quickly (too much diplomacy and no time for crafting) and Maitimo will assume this task. So Finwë does his best to prepare his grandson for leadership.

· Finwë and Maitimo are both the glue of Noldorin court society and the tie between the houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin.

· Maitimo and Findekano’s friendship develops mostly because Finwë supports it and in time Finwë is aware of their romantic involvement. He is not entirely happy about it (mainly because he doesn’t want his grandsons to suffer judgment) but he loves them fiercely and supports them. Finwë still holds hope that this relationship will save his house and remedy what he has failed to do. He demands high discretion but defends them, nonetheless.

· More often than not, Maitimo disagrees with Fëanor on political and ethical questions (though never publicly) and agrees more with Finwë. But he manages this diplomatically. He thinks it unwise that his father draws a weapon on Fingolgfin but goes to Formenos upon Finwë’s suggestion and the two manage to keep Fëanor and his supporters from escalating things. They also educate the younger Feanorians (especially Ambarussa and Tyelpe) in Nerdanel’s absence. This is why the three have more mild characters and a different ethical compass, particularly Tyelpe.

· Finwë’s death is an absolute shock to Maitimo. He is the one to find his dead body and lead the preparations of his funeral while Fëanor is away. After that, Maitimo's world falls apart – having lost a King, a grandfather, and his life mentor. He also loses the most ardent supporter of his relationship with Findekano. Paired with the Darkening, he is not sure of anything anymore after Finwë’s death and loses direction in his grief momentarily.

· Maitimo feels the weight of responsibility to keep things from escalating but he also loves his father fiercely and cannot stand Feanor’s pain at losing both parents. He also feels guilty for the times he has contradicted his father. This sentiment will not disappear until the burning of the ships.

· He swears the Oath for two reasons: 1) Anger at Finwë’s death and the Valar’s reluctance to do anything about it (here he finally understands Feanor) and 2) his commitment to his family and Fëanor after all, he knows now he must keep unity even to his own detriment.

· All throughout Angband, Sauron tortures Maitimo psychologically by assuming Finwë’s form and trying to instill guilt and remove self-worth.

· After the rescue, Maedhros feels he is no longer an adequate heir to Finwë for many reasons and he does what he thinks his grandfather would do in abdicating to Fingolfin. Also, he knows Fingolfin's capacity for leadership given that they have worked at court together for many years and still respect each other.

This got too long, sorry. But I am open to hearing opinions and opening any of these ideas.

[kaelio]

If I like DS9 but also agree with a lot of your issues with it, sell me on Babylon 5? How does it do things better than DS9. I think DS9 kinda shat the bed on its big ideas but I do love its characters and how gay a lot of them are

This would require a longer answer than I have energy for, but basically imagine DS9 but all the plot threads pay off.

Babylon 5 is also pretty pragmatic. The characters also overwhelmingly have pretty healthy relationships. They're not all totally functional, and in fact I'd say the cast is substantively flawed as people, but they're deep, pervasive character flaws that you're expected to understand will dog them.

It's also quite ambitious in that its main theme is like... moderation and responsibility and diplomacy. Understanding the stakes of independent stakeholders. Watching people change and considering why they're changing. Also, not a lot of skipping around on 'ships' like on other shows; who dates who and when is tied into the actual Plot, which I appreciate. The professional and personal are not discrete. People rise and fall not because they “have to” to serve the plot, but because those people would rise and fall under those conditions.

I don't talk about B5 as much as DS9 because I don't really have any complaints about it. DS9 captures my attention really well in large part because of its catastrophic but fascinating flaws.

[synnefo-nefeli]

Hi! I noticed that you’re reblogging a lot of KKM stuff and that you do head cannons. Do you have any for this wonderful show? I’ve been watching since 2005 and it’s good to see the fandom is still alive!

Ommiigod! Hi Anon! I too am a fellow fandom KKM Old- these boys have been living rent free in my brain since 2006!

Before I get into the hcs, my pairings are: Yuuram, Yorad, and Gwenter. Sometimes Yorata happens but I love me some Conrart and Yozak lovin.

Here are my HCS in no particular order or theme:

1. Ppl like to say that the thing the Three Brothers have in common, are their smiles. However, the other thing they have in common is that they’re all pretty jealous/possessive over their significant others.

Majority of people only have observed Wolfram’s more dramatic outbursts and assume it’s him being a spoiled prince. But once Gwendal and Conrart become more open with their relationships at court, people definitely see the commonality.

Wolf’s will always be the more dramatic outbursts, but doesn’t hold a candle to the very real threat that Gwendal and Conrart can muster when they’re finally pushed over the edge.

It’s because of this, that Yozak and Günter are still not sure if being open with their relations was a good decision after many years of being discreet and in an open relationships.

Because on one hand, the Duke of a small township outside of the Human Kingdom, now knows not to flirt with Günter at the diplomat’s ball lest the Duke wants to get into a skirmish with von Walde. On the other hand Yozak doesn’t mind Conrart fucking up a mark who got a little too rough with Yozak (not to mention ruining one of his favorite dresses) during an intel gathering mission. Also, 49% of the time, Günter fawns over Yuuri just to make Gwendal jealous/get back at his grumpy lover for not paying enough attention to him.

Conrart and Gwen are generally better behaved than Wolf, but every now and then the jealousy simmers over in a bad way.

2. Speaking of Cheri’s eldest sons, they’ve kept their relationships discreet because they don’t want to have her fussing over them about marriage, weddings, grandchildren and the like. Gwendal and Conrart aren’t really interested in the big romantic ceremonies and are more into the idea of “love freedom” than their mother. After seeing their mother forced into unhappy relationships at the Maoh’s behest, and the judgement she received about her partners and the pomp and circumstance / inevitable fallout if those relationships, Gwen and Conrart prefer privacy and discretion. Besides, Wolfram is going to give Cheri the big wedding she’s always dreamed of for her children.

3. Günter’s house has a history of bad blood with Gwendal’s ancestors. Kleist and Wald have always held each other as rivals and the previous von Walds have held mistrust of the ruling family of Kleist. Günter’s family is known for their ethereal beauty and were often spymasters / traded in information as their members were skilled diplomats in and out of the sheets, and grew their power in this way.

The Walds have a very prudish view of the Kleists, even though their “scandalous” origins are more a thing of legend. This makes Gwendal and Günter’s relationship a bit rocky- Gwendal’s extended family are angry over the relationship, Günter’s family believe that Gwendal will use Günter in a way that is beneath him to control the Crown’s espionage network.

4. When Günter came to court as an adviser to Cheri during the war, it was at Gwendal’s behest as he was impressed with Conrart’s swords master/teacher...and because he was nursing (as best as one with Gwen’s emotional constipation could) a slight crush. Günter was honored because it was the first time his martial and diplomacy skills were going to be letigimized . He was not going to be seen as a “pretty face” or a member of an infamous famil with shady origins.

Unfortunately, Stofel was all about utilizing Günter in a manner “that his family is known for”. He used Giesella as a threat to force Günter into selling himself for information/resources for the crown.

Fortunately, Gwendal intercepted Günter before he could go through with it, and moved Günter to his current role at court. It took them a while to actually move into a casual relationship, they became more serious during Yuuri’s reign.

5. It takes them a while, but Yuuri and Wolfram eventually become Shin Makoku’s power couple. While Wolfram loved Yurri truly and passionately, once Yuuri matured and realized his feelings for Wolfram- their bond deepened into one of the land’s greatest love stories. Wolfram becomes an amazing Prince-Consort and Yuuri’s most trusted partner during his long reign

6. Wolfram has been learning Japanese in secret with Murata teaching him; he’s also learning how to cook Yuuri’s mother’s curry.

7. Wolfram is terrible at baseball and was dismayed that he couldn’t really connect with Yuuri in this regard. Murata told Wolfram that he’s also really bad at baseball but he enjoys it in different ways (like him managing the baseball team instead of being an active player like Yuuri). So Wolfram studies the baseball books Murata has translated and eventually presents Yuuri with plans and designs right down to the team’s uniforms, for the Demon Kingdom’s baseball league.

8. The Crown’s team is called the “Bearbees”. Wolfram is the team owner and the second chairman of the league after Murata. Yuuri and Conrart are honestly impressed.

9. Yuuri and Wolfram will often escape to Yuuri’s world for a “date weekend”. Wolfram has gotten really good at pachinko and UFO games

10. Günter maintains his contacts at the modeling agency...and will appear for special collaborations. He’s gotten Gwendal to model once. And only once.

11. Anissina was the only person to know about Gwenter and it was because she barged in on them right in the middle of the act. Gwendal threatened that if she told anyone, he would ship her back to her brother’s castle in a carriage full of roosters. It was the only time in all of Gwendal and Anissina’s friendship that she didn’t try to push her luck.

Luckily for her, the maids caught Gwenter kissing in the stables and their gossip spread like wildfire. Gwendal was too busy hiding from his mother’s jubilant fussing about her first baby being in love (“I was afraid you’d die a virgin, Gwen!!!” I don’t care if you’re with someone who is only a few years younger than me!!GÜNTER LET’S VISIT YOUR COUSIN TO PLAN THE MARRIAGE- since you’re the older one, you must take responsibility for Gwen’s honor!”) to even suspect her.

No one noticed Conrart and Yozak slipping out the side gate to head for the northern border. It was only a matter of time before they too were found out and they figured they’d enjoy these last few quiet days before Cheri tracked them down.

Yuuri and Wolf enjoyed their week off from being the center of castle gossip and drama.

[caracalfeather]

WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

7

Rose looked over and smiled "Hey. You wanna go dancing tonight? There's a club that just opened downtown." She walked over and hugged his arm "I...I wanna go out on a normal date tonight."

“That sounds like fun!” He smiled, “what’s the name of the club, I’ll try and swindle is some VIP access if you’d like” he winked at her and kissed her cheek.

"White Feather, I think." She blushed and smiled, nuzzling his chest "It's supposed to be a truce spot for many mobs."

“So it’s in The Gray Zone?” He looked at her curiously. Knowing that it used to be his territory, but many other mobs had their eyes on it. Everyone was just holding their breath, seeing which family would claim it first.

"I think so. It's perfect for a night of peace for Just us." She purred and kissed his neck.

“Perfect.” He smirked,”a night of peace would be lovely. Let’s go get drunk off our asses.” He laughed wrapping his arms around her.

"Actually… I just wanted a night were we don't get black out drunk… like...a normal date?" She blushed and fidgeted with her shirt slightly, like she was embarrassed.

Julian nodded, “we can also do that. Let me just get my coat and we’ll go” he kissed her cheek.

She walked to her room to change, pocketing a revolver just in case as she slipped into a short red dress that hugged her curves, humming softly.

Julian entered her room, dressed and looking fine. “Ah! There she is! You look beautiful.” He purred.

Rose smiled and blushed “Nadia gave me the dress. Can you zip me up?” She turned around and bit her lip.

He nodded and took hold of the zipper. It was stuck for just a moment as he started to pull, but it sailed smoothly up her back the rest of the way. Julian squeezed her ass and walked towards the door.

She squealed and swatted his hand with a laugh “Ilya devorak! You perv!” Rose teased and followed him out to the car.

Julian chuckled, he didn’t regret his decision. “You want to drive? Or do I have the honor?” He asked with a smile rubbing a stray bullet hole in the car’s side.

“I'll let you, it's always fun when you drive.” Rose smiled and kissed his neck, getting in the passenger’s side.

“As you wish!” He shook the keys that jangled around his long fingers, he started the car up and pulled out of the garage. “Now where exactly is the ‘White Feather’?”

“Nix street by the Old theater downtown.” She smiled and looked out the window, plenty of families were enjoying the evening air. She smiled at the sight of couples with their children and pets.

Julian made sure not to cause any trouble. Although he did run a few red lights. He watched the names of the street carefully and turned to the right one, the tall theater welcoming crowds. Not far from it, the club was electric! Lines of people hearing to get in and drown their sorrows. Julian parked the car and got out. He opened the door for Rose, “this must be the place. The lines are packed!”

“It is brand new!” She smiled, fixing her hair and taking his arm “Shall we show off for the cameras?” She nodded to the line of paparazzi near the door, roped off from the crowd.

“You can show off to your heart’s content my love!” Julian chuckled, “however I can’t go with you. I’m technically not supposed to even be in The Gray Zone. But you can go on ahead.” He pulled a pair of shades from his pocket and put them on. He looked ridiculous, shades on top of the eyepatch. Luckily his hair covered his bad eye enough.

Rose snorted and kissed his cheek “I'll meet you inside. Grab a booth for us?” She walked over and was immediately crowded with cameras and questions. She put on a flirtatious attitude and made the media swoon.

Julian did as he was told, he even swindled a group of young women to surrender their VIP accesses. Julian found them a booth in the reserved lounge, the live band in the lounge played softly as the “sophisticated” guests drank. While the real party happened out in the club’s main room. The faint bop of a bass could still be heard.

After a few minutes, rose entered the club, swaying her hips as she walked. A few men, probably from upper hollywood by the look of their clothes, trailed her, cat calling and whistling as she winked at them.

He saw Rose and waved her over, with a cocky grin. “I told you I could swindle us a good spot”

“How the hell did you get VIP tickets?” She looked at him, slightly shocked and sat down, glancing at the men.

“I have my ways.” He winked, the band starting to play a little louder as a smooth love song filled the room.

Rose swayed softly to the music, humming as the ordered drinks and watched the band “This is so nice.”

He nodded, “it reminds me of the lounge I used to have.” He leaned out of his seat looking around at the dark interior.

“You used to have a lounge?” She smiled, waving at a few guys as they passed and looked at ilya.

He leaned in close to her, “I used to be just like you. The Grey Area? It used to be mine.”

“Woah? No shit?!’ She smiled “I knew the Morganason’s had their eyes on this place but I didn't ever know someone already had this place once!”

“Didn’t we meet at the Peace Gala?” He boggled his mind, everyone was wearing masks, but if anyone was underneath a cat mask looking powerful then it had to have been Rose. “I provided the….entertainment. I brought my best jazz band and singers.”

“Right! I remember some very pretty singers. But i'll admit i was a little drunk that night while pulme handled the diplomacy shit.” She giggled and sipped her margherita.

Julian changed the subject, “well….now you know where all of my ‘experience’ came from” he sipped his whiskey glass averting his gaze until the memory fled his mind.

Rose glanced at him and stood, offering her hand “Come on darling. We don't need to think about the past when the present is perfect.” She smiled, her eyes sweet.

He took it with a smile, “right.”

She led him into the crowd, swaying against his chest as the music got louder. She was getting looks from different guys.

Julian growled at the onlookers, dipping Rose and kissing her softly.

She groaned into the kiss, pausing as the band began to play ‘La vie en Rose’, shifting the mood to smoothing a little more romantic.

He chuckled and started to softly sing the words in fluent French. His eyes full of love as they continued to sway.

“I forget that you speak french.” She blushed, leaning her head on his shoulder “It's very sexy.”

Julian smirked, “I know a lot of languages ma amour.” He twirled her and pulled her against his chest, “Even I think that’s sexy, I could say the nastiest thing to you and you wouldn’t even know it.”

She blushed and nuzzled his neck “Querida eres tan escandalosa~” next to them a young man was walking by. He looked like the definition of a spoiled child. He gave rose’s ass a squeeze as he walked away from them, making her gasp and squeak.

“Darling” Julian growled, “you brought your gun right?” He pressed his head against her ear, watching the punk. How dare he.

She nodded, shifting slightly and putting the gun into his hand and hid her face against him. She felt extremely uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back.” He breathed into her ear. Watching the best as he slipped into a back exit. He followed the kid outside and was ready to teach the punk a lesson when he discovered that there were several other men waiting for him. Julian fired the revolver in the air as a warning and pointed it back at the men.

The men ducked, looking back at him in shock. The punk pulled out his own gun and cocked an eyebrow “AYE? YOU GOT A PROBLEM RAT?”

“Actually I do! And your dirty hands were all over MY WOMAN.” He spat, “so back off.”

“What? Are you protective over a slut?” He laughed and shrugged “Judging by that dress you paid pretty well for her.” Looking at him now, a gold ram’s head was on his jacket, he was one of Antonio’s goons. Clearly his dumbest.

“That ‘SLUT’ can cut you to pieces with the mere flick of her wrist.” Seeing the emblem, Julian rolled his eyes, “what are you jack asses doing all the way down here?”

“Scouting the king’s new terf. He’s decided to expand his terf.” One of them scoffed. The punk laughed “Go back to your whore old bird. Before you start a war down here.”

Julian spat at their feet. “Last chance boys. Before the Cat comes and rips you to shreds.” He completely ignored their comment. Trying to hold on to the lie that he wasn’t The Black Raven, “the Raven died 3 years ago, and this is a Gray Area.”

“You think that’ll stop Antonio?” The biggest laughed as the punk turned to go back inside “THe terf’s been free game for years now.”

“Not if I have a say in it.” He muttered under his breath, “why don’t you boys run home and tell your boss that if he wants the turf so bad then he should come here himself and claim it.”

The punk slipped back into the door as one of the men grumbled “Why do you care? You ain't a cop. And clearly not important to the mob families.” He growled and cocked his gun “You have something to do with the Raven?”

“No, I just know he died.” He sneered, looking at the door. He hopped Rose had heard his warning, he could use some back up. “You all know this, he was shot in your next of kin families.”

“Yeah i remember. Had no girl, no kids. Have no idea how the hell he managed here.” The guy huffed, inside the club a gunshot was fired, muted under the music. Rose stepped outside, throwing a dead punk onto the ground and cleaning her gun with a huff.

“Ah just in time.” Julian smirked, “a little help here Kitty Kat.” His gaze was sharp and he looked between the men.

“Sorry I'm late doll. Had a pest groping me again.” She kissed his cheek and looked at the men “What's this?”

“Looks like Antonio wants to take The Gray Area.” Julian scoffed, slinging an arm around her waist.

“Oh well that just won't do.” Rose looked at the men and aimed her gun “Shall we reduce the pest problem?”

Julian smirked and cocked his gun, “with pleasure my dear.”

8

The night echoed with Gunshots, and when they went quiet, Rose walked back to the car, cleaning her gun.

“Well….so much for 3 years without an instance.” Julian sighed, he opened the door for her. “And so much for a peaceful night.”

Rose shrugged and sighed “It's fine. It was interesting.” On the way home she put her hand on his thigh, squeezing softly as he drove.

Julian eyed her with a smirk, “I forgot how much danger turns you on.” He chuckled, “should I be afraid when we get home?”

“Depends on how much you fight for dominance tonight.” She pawed his crotch and purred, kissing his neck.

He flinched, “ohhh….so that’s how it’s going to be is it now?”

She didn't answer, simply working marks into his neck as they pulled into the garage. As they stopped she smiled “Maybe you can do what you were dreaming about the other day.”

Julian blushed, “ah ha…..well….in that case…” he was about to finish his thought, but he just couldn't. He just grabbed Rose’s jaw roughly and kissed her.

She moaned, pushing him against the wall and tearing his shirt open slightly.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her down biting her neck.

Growling, she slipped a knee between his legs, rubbing his bulge.

Julian moaned, his grip loosening for a moment as he trailed kisses up her neck before kissing her deeply.

She groaned, yanking his hair back before growling “Let's take this to one of our rooms.”

“Mine or yours?” He purred, squeezing her breast.

“Yours is closer.” she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, marking his collar bone.

Julian carried her to his room and shut the door tossing her onto the bed as he scrambled to free himself from his shirt.

She stripped from her dress then helped him strip. Moaning at the sight of him, she flipped him under her legs.

He ran his hands down her body, his eyes memorizing every curve.

Rose pushed him down, grinding against his cock and moaning “I-Ilya~” Her voice was sweet, almost a little higher than usual.

His vision blurred as he closed his eyes, his hands gripping her hips, it was all too familiar. As he was caught in the heat of passion he felt himself remembering a different time. And soon Rose’s skin was porcelain white and she had returned to him. His hands trailed up her back waiting for the same shiver, the same whimper.

Rose did shiver, slipping him inside of her with a loud moan. She threw her head back, adjusting to him.

“Mmmmph…..you’re always so tight darling…~” he moaned his hips bucking into her. Hoping to make her jump or squeal. She didn’t take over often, but he was allowing her to this time. She had been so good when he left to take care of some other thugs.

She gasped, starting to slam her hips down as she rode him, clawing his chest “Ilya! Gods!”

Julian was snapped back into reality, a loud purr in his throat. I guess getting rid of her wasn’t working. He was running out of options. He laced his fingers in Rose’s hair and pulled.

She whined, rutting her hips against him. Her voice was starting to blend with a familiar memory as she gasped, eyes tearing up.

“Fuck...my star…” he moaned, he was close, which meant she wasn’t far from coming herself.

Rose gulped at the new nickname, quickly finishing herself off with a sharp buck, moaning.

Julian filled her with his cum. Sloppily thrusting into her as he rode out his orgasm. His mind was as confused and clouded as it was a week ago.

Rose dropped next to him, passing out with a shiver as she didn't even bother to clean herself up.

He ran his hands through his hair. He was in trouble if he couldn’t find a new way to get rid of the past. The barking started up again outside and Julian groaned rolling over and cuddling against Rose.

[teresa-madrigal]

Character Profile

FULL NAME: Ines Teresa Madrigal DOB: 14 Scion 1303 RESIDENCE: Lion’s Arch & Divinity’s Reach CLASS: Hemomancer PERSONALITY: INTP ETHNICITY: Krytan, Ascalonian & Luxon HEIGHT: 5’6” WEIGHT: 120 lbs. HAIR: Brown EYES: Hazel FACECLAIM: Ana de Armas

Appearance

Even at the rather average height of five-and-a-half feet, Teresa’s figure is decidedly petite. Her frame is narrow throughout, bestowed with modest feminine curves that only find emphasis in the most generous outfits and postures. Nevertheless, her thin form carries an acceptably healthy weight, with limbs just dense enough to suggest an active lifestyle. Her skin, too, reveals a penchant for the outdoors: her naturally fair palette sports a tan year-round, obscuring the few faint freckles on her face.

All of Teresa’s most remarkable features are concentrated above the neck, confined to a square-shaped head with a strong jawline and a defined, angular chin. Her full lips – narrow like her waist but warm like her skin – are almost as prominent as her eyes. Smoky hazel hues fill in round sockets that rest beneath arched brows, easily perceived as any color from light green to bright brown. Teresa’s distinctive facial features are crowned by long hair that is often deceptively dyed, either in a sandy shade of dirty blonde or a deep chestnut brown.

Her wardrobe is better defined by variety and versatility than any particular aesthetic sensibilities. Though confident in any attire, she makes a conscious effort to dress for every occasion: sleek, modest jackets in solid colors for business; loose, flowing and revealing material for leisurely nights in Lion’s Arch; and elaborate, elegant garments for the dignified functions of Divinity’s Reach.

Personality

Though her tongue is not made of silver, Teresa’s intuition and empathy are enough to lend a quietly charismatic presence. She has an unassuming confidence about her, carried by unanimated motions; her body language is inviting despite her air of dignified reserve. Indeed, Teresa’s patrician demeanor is tempered by an adventurous spirit and a keen awareness of her contradictory social status. Her awkwardly formal manner of speaking is not a product of pretension so much as a genuine reflection of her privileged upbringing. Years of such practice have molded Teresa – an introvert at heart – into an effective negotiator.

In fact, Teresa can be remarkably gregarious with the right company. In purely social situations, she exudes a more candid, authentic charm. Blunt observations are given with the most sympathetic intent – and humbly recanted when the intent is misconstrued. Her humor tends toward the sarcastic and sardonic, deliberately delivered in a nonchalance that can almost be mistaken for sincerity. Never clinging too tightly to an opinion, she always takes interest in the diverging perspectives of others, occasionally culminating in intrusive lines of curious questioning.

She prides herself in her open mind; what she lacks in intellectual rigor is more than compensated by her intellectual curiosity. Though she can be swiftly decisive in the face of urgency, her openness to novelty is integral to her ‘creative pursuits’ – and her unpredictable work ethic. Whereas most in her line of work thrive with consistent routines, Teresa accomplishes more through energetic bursts of efficiency incited by spontaneous flashes of inspiration.

Though her decisions in business and other practical pursuits typically stem from utilitarian considerations, Teresa prefers to trust in her powerful intuition. She often fixates on the abstract and formulates intangible ideas inexpressible by words; she then filters these bold impulses through a practiced sense of caution. Close acquaintances may know Teresa for her philosophical musings – particularly regarding fate. Cynical instincts are counterbalanced by a belief that everyone has an important part to play – grand or small – in the arc of human history.

History

The Madrigal line descends from a mysterious Luxon sailor who arrived in Lion’s Arch shortly before the Rising of Orr. Within two generations, the family’s successful shipbuilding enterprise elevated them to the upper crust of the free city’s society; Teresa’s grandfather distinguished himself enough to earn a term on the Captain’s Council.  Though proud of their common status and cosmopolitan home, the Madrigals developed a reputation for pomp and propriety, perceived as pretentious even by the other patricians of Lion’s Arch.

One of several children, Teresa seldom seized the full potential of her permissive upbringing. She was quiet and contemplative, more often compelled by fables and experiments than childish games. Her earliest years were characterized by a frail constitution, leaving her vulnerable to a bout of pneumonia that would later prove pivotal: her mother’s hiring of an unorthodox healer incited a lifelong fascination with blood magic.

Teresa’s adolescence was defined by dramatic personal growth, shaping an explorative and gregarious spirit that she has carried ever since. A year of travel with her diplomat father inspired her to pursue a similar career, and she began privately dabbling in the study of hemomancy. At the dawn of her adulthood, she took up clerical work for the Lion’s Arch bureaucracy; in her free time she regularly paid discrete visits to dilapidated infirmaries, where she volunteered her burgeoning medical talents to the aid of the ill and destitute.

Scarlet Briar’s siege of Lion’s Arch inalterably changed the course of Teresa’s life: the sudden loss of half her family rendered her the unlikely heir to the Madrigal business empire, and she alone faced the burden of revitalizing its fortunes. She soon proved surprisingly adequate for the task – giving her the confidence to supplement this work with a career in diplomacy. Today, she strives to maintain these twin paths while still making time for her more creatively fulfilling magical pursuits.

Potential Connections

As a diplomat, Teresa represents the interests of Lion’s Arch before the Krytan Ministry. Citizens of Lion’s Arch with any concerns regarding Krytan policy may be able voice them through her.

The Madrigal Company is focused on construction, shipbuilding and ship repairs, and anyone interested in those services may be able to negotiate a favorable deal with Teresa. However, she has also begun to dabble in a diversified array of investments – and promising entrepreneurs may be able to secure her financial support.

Blood magic remains one of Teresa’s principal interests, and she is always eager to exchange ideas with likeminded practitioners.  Though she has no ill intent for her magic, she will gladly study with more sinister students, so long as they leave their schemes out of it. Her knowledge and interest in other schools of necromancy are minimal, but she recognizes her need to further her study of those fields as well.

Something of an ambivert, Teresa enjoys making new acquaintances. She frequents the streets and taverns of the Reach and the Arch, where she will gladly indulge strangers in casual conversation, even those with whom she has little in common.

[dulcidyne]

Experiments in Diplomacy: Troubleshooting [7/?]

There’s nothing in the Interspecies Diplomacy subsection of the Initiative handbook that covers sharing a tech lab with an angara who can kill her in her sleep. She knows, she’s read every page. Twice. (A collection of in-between vignettes from the Tempest tech lab) 

//Jaal x Ryder // Humor. Romance. SFW // Previous chapters: [1][2][3][4][5][6] or read on Ao3

“I’ve got it.”

Exhaustion scuffs her smile down to expose the wiry, frenetic energy she scraped up from the bitter dregs of her last coffee. Jaal tilts his chin to angle a skeptical glance and a wry smile her way. Both say he’s expecting her new idea to be highly impractical. Neither are wrong. 89 consecutive power draw trials and three hours of sleep mean her ideas are starting to get a little...eccentric.

“I’ll just wear more power cells.” Se-ah slumps her weight onto her forearms, letting Mags do most of the work of keeping her upright. “Problem solved.”

“Pathfinder, by my calculations the number of additional power cells required exceed the free surface area of your hardsuit.”

For an AI living in her head, SAM can be surprisingly gullible. She finds it delightful. Tapping her raw, bitten-down fingernails against Maggie’s carbon glass, she pretends to give his objection serious thought.  While she’s at it, she also pretends not to hear the dull staccato thump on the tech lab door. It’ll go away soon. At least, she hopes. The other side of the door is the last thing she has the mental capacity for right now.

“So we stack them.”

“Pathfinder—”

“Or I’ll just bring a portable generator, plug in for battle. We could make a harness for Drack.”

“Limitations in combat mobility render this solution highly impractical.”

SAM isn’t programmed with state-of-the-art emotional inflections—conveying emotion wasn’t ever high on her father’s list of priorities, clearly he didn’t think it should be high on SAM’s either—but there’s a jarring fluctuation in his modulated voice akin to alarm.

Jaal hears it too and works a thread of reproof into his smile, which, along with the majority of his attention, returns to the kett bioconverter he’s in the process of ripping apart for the sake of his own curiosity. ��“Ryder…”

“There are no bad ideas,” she intones defensively, grabbing the jumper wires Jaal sets down by her hand and getting back to work. They’ve developed a good rhythm together in the lab, much like the one they have in the field. It’s a dance of increasing familiarity, steps formed out of subtle gestures, reflex, and split-second instinct. She gets the shields while he lines up the shot. Static crackle and rifle report ringing out a background duple meter. The tempo in the lab is slower, less frantic without projectiles and wild animals trying to rip through her armor, but it still thrums in her bones like a reverberating pulse straight out of the Vortex subwoofers.

“Is that a common human expression?” Jaal asks her in a way that tells her he doesn’t care for it. “I’ve had several experiences that prove the opposite.”

Se-ah clips the connectors into place and grins, wide and slow. “Yeah? Would any of them involve teaming up with a ragtag group of Milky Way aliens?”

Before he can reach over for it, she slides a tube of thermal paste his way. Her fingers pause on the rolled-over top, waiting for him to ask for an explanation of the phrase ‘ragtag’ even as she opens her mouth to launch into it.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he huffs a low laugh, drawing closer. “No...but I suspect you only ask because you are already sure of my answer.”

Distracted by his proximity, she studies the variegated violet freckling over his cheekbones, awash in rippling blue light. Are they the angaran equivalent of freckles? Do angaran biochromophores react the same way to sunlight as melanin does? Does the scientific curiosity explain the urge to trace her hand across them and map an array of constellations all for herself? Distantly, she notes that the thumping on the door has stopped.

“Maybe I’m just making sure we’re on the same page?” The words gust out of her, soft and too breathy. She can’t spare a moment to be embarrassed over how blatantly romance-vid her reaction to him is. There’s nothing critical in his soft chuckle except a hint of exasperation over one too many idioms.

His hand cups the back of her own—still perched on the tube of thermal paste—engulfing it in half the span of his fingers. Warmth grips her through the material of his glove and palms a hot, shivering caress up her arm and into her chest. Before she can think, her palm impulsively twists to catch it, pressing up against his and slip her five fingers between his three.

The pad of his thumb traces over the line of her own, slow and soft as a sigh. “I think that whatever is on your page is on mine as well . ”

“Good, that’s good. About that. We should probably talk about exactly what’s on that page—besides your email, I mean, and with this whole. Fraternizing . Thing. ”

Her heartbeat thuds against her sternum. Not because he’s pulling her closer, well that too, but because her carefully-planned response to his email is garbling up in her head as if his nearness is so much interference turning her carefully planned words to static. She’s never been good at these types of conversations. Good at avoiding them? Absolutely. But she’s tired of living in the liminal spaces of relationships where nothing is concrete or defined and everything is vague half-hopes and swallowed desires. That might be good enough for the person she used to be but not anymore. She wants this. Wants to tell him.

“If you’re sure she just forgot…” comes a voice from the other side of the door—Scottish brogue muffled but distinct. Se-ah barely has time to pull free and step away from him before the hydraulic system hisses metal panels open to reveal Peebee and Suvi, who at least has the good sense to look very apologetic.

“Sorry Ryder, but she kept insisting there was some mistake.”

Se-ah exhales long and slow. Then she bows her head back down in the guise of surveying the connectors scattered across Maggie’s top while silently cursing her merciful decision not to throw a certain asari out the airlock.

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ hard against her lower lip. “Not a mistake.”

“So what’s with the tension in here?” Peebee scans between them, then flicks a commiserating half-grin in Jaal’s direction. “Mad at you too huh?”

Se-ah bites down on her retort, hard, and her lip smarts for it. The imprint of his hand against hers is a phantom warmth transmuted into an insistent ache. All the words she couldn’t say are still buzzing in her head, too loud. She unclips all the connectors that she just put in. They’re all wrong. What was she thinking?

Jaal has no response but Peebee never has a problem filling up other people’s side of the conversation--a trait Se-ah finds either exasperating or charming, depending on the situation.  “Well at least she can’t revoke your access to your own room, right?”

“Is there something you want Peebee?” Se-ah flexes her hand, willing the wistful ache out of her skin.

“Why do you assume I’m here because I want something?” Peebee does a convincing enough job of sounded wounded. “I can have altruistic motives too, you know. I came because I was worried.”

Confusion has Se-ah glancing up from the bench just in time to see Suvi wisely edge out of the lab and make a discrete escape. “Worried?” she asks, “About what?”

“About you , obviously. You know, the whole amnesia thing you clearly have going on.”

Well, that’s on her, she should’ve known better than to engage. Se-ah heaves a sigh up towards the deckhead panels for her own naivete and goes back to reclipping the connectors, hoping silence will be enough of a hint to be left alone.

It is not. Because nothing in Andromeda goes the way she wants it to, especially not when a certain asari is involved. Instead of leaving, Peebee crosses the room to stand on the other side of the tech bench, ducking her head low enough to press her cheek against the glossy top.

“Ryder,” she says, voice full of concern. “Do you remember who I am?”

“Peebee…”

“Good! Good, that’s a relief. Now, do you remember telling me you weren’t mad about the whole borrowing the ozone scrubbers and that I could have my access to the lab back?”

“What I remember telling you is that there are consequences for putting other people on this ship in danger and that your access to the lab will be contingent on supervision until--”

Peebee scrunches up her face as if this is the first she’s heard of all this. “Nooo, I’m pretty sure you said I had my access back, no babysitting required. SAM?”

“Leave SAM out of this. You took them. Without permission. You almost destroyed Ma--the machine. Do you think I should trust you to be in here alone after that? ”

“Trust has nothing to do with this. I was obviously going to put them back as soon as possible. You know that. How was I supposed to know you’d be up all night using the damn thing? It’s called sleep , Ryder. Ever heard of it? Look, just admit you’re still mad at me. Then we can hug or something, Jaal will probably cry, knowing him--it’ll be better than a drama vid.”

Jaal clearly agrees with either the idea or the prediction that he’d be left in tears. Possibly both. He nods sagely. “That’s an excellent idea. Once you acknowledge your feelings, you can work towards resolving the issue.” Se-ah drops all pretense of working and scrubs her hand over her face. “I’m not mad. This has nothing to do with my feelings and everything to do with a totally reasonable punishment.”

“If you’re not mad, we can just skip to the hug part then—”

Peebee makes to circle around the tech bench, proving it is no empty threat. Her unique brand of emotional distance is oddly physical in nature; pinching, prodding, jumping on, squeezing, all while holding everyone at an arm’s length. She’d do it, the madwoman , she’d hug her. Se-ah startles back, hands coming up defensively to ward it off.

“Calm down Ryder, it’s a hug, not a bomb. Why so tense?” Peebee snorts, delighted over this new development. Her eyes are bright and glittering in a mad-scientist way. A woman afraid of hugs is an oddity and Peebee happens to specialize in unraveling oddities. Se-Ah would much prefer to stay tightly raveled.

She clears her throat in a bid for composure but can’t bring herself to lower her hands. “You can’t just flirt your way out of everything Peebee.”

“Oh yeah?” A dozen different flavors of innuendo squeeze into the smooth drop of her voice and the slow, satisfied curl of her lips. Glittering eyes shift into something beguiling, beckoning her. “Can’t you let me try though?” “I’m--a little busy at the moment,” Se-ah stutters, flushing all the way down to her shirt collar. Fabric scratches  her rapidly warming throat. She tugs it away impatiently. Damnit Peebee . She’ll take disarming a bomb any day over Peebee’s determined seduction technique. At least she knows how to handle a bomb.

White teeth flash into a triumphant grin. Whatever game Peebee is playing, she’s winning and she knows it. She moves closer, in for the kill. “Which is exactly why you should let me work out some of that tension.”

All at once, Se-ah is done. It’s so Peebee to derail conflict with a come-on; not even a come-on she’s actually invested in. Probably.

“Which is exactly why I can’t supervise you right now.” she snaps, imbuing her voice with every gram of authority she can muster. “The conversation about access reinstatement will have to wait for another time.”

Peebee’s smile dims and hurt slumps her shoulders before she squares them up for a shrug that tells Se-ah the wounded act from before was only partially put on. Being on the outs bothers her; which explains a lot. Peebee is at her Peebee -ist when she’s trying to hide the fact that she cares. It’s almost enough for Se-ah to forget how irritated she is and start feeling guilty over it.

“Have SAM make a note of it before the amnesia kicks in again,” Peebee quips over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Almost . Se-ah bites down on her very juvenile, very unprofessional retort. Snatching up a pair of needle nose pliers, she flays open an insulated wire with a focused viciousness normally reserved for Kett. Once the copper threads are stripped bare she realizes Jaal has been watching her intently the whole time. “Peebee is right,” he concludes. Traitor. Se-ah scowls, feeling hopelessly wrong-footed. She shouldn’t have snapped. A good leader shouldn’t ever let it get that personal. It’s just that Peebee...she clenches her jaw against a fresh wave of irritation. Peebee can be impossible sometimes. Flustered, she flings the wire away and watches it skid across the bench top.

“I am not mad. I’m just being reasonable. It was entirely professional.”

There’s a voice in the back of her head that says her claim to professionalism rings hollow . It sounds like a dead woman. She would never be this close with her crew, letting it undermine her leadership. She took Alliance regulations about fraternization seriously, didn’t see the point in risking her career over messy personal entanglements. She wouldn’t be on any page with Jaal, not with a diplomatic relationship with an alien species on the line regardless of if it went well or poorly. Something painful grinds in her chest, a raw fuse of broken emotion she’s still not ready to deal with. It feels like empty chairs at recitals, graduations, commendation ceremonies--like unanswered vid calls and unsigned cards and Scott’s accusatory, ‘You never get mad because you’re just like him’ . Career first. Personal entanglements later...she wonders what Jaal would think about that. What her--

Jaal’s palm settles over her shoulder and she glances up, startled. “She was right about the hug. You do need one, you’re very tense.”

His touch is a warm, reassuring weight that anchors her to the floor and she relaxes into it despite the objectively horrifying suggestion.

“Ryders don’t hug,” she says without much mirth. It’s an inside joke that isn’t actually a joke. One of Scott’s. He liked to pull a stern expression, looking eerily like their dad when he said it. Or, he used to. Once they realized the truth at the heart of it, after mom’s death, it was less a joke and more of an observation told with the cadence of one.

All of this is lost on Jaal. In her entire arsenal of idioms, she’s never seen him so baffled. A stomach-churning emotion props a stilted smile up at the corner of her mouth. It feels like it will topple off her lips at any moment. Beneath his hand, her shoulder bunches up as she shifts back to squeeze a couple extra centimeters between them without breaking contact.  

“We’re just not very good at it. We only inflict them on others on very rare occasions.”

Occasions she can count out on one hand: saying goodbye to halmeoni in the hospital, her and Scott’s 8th and worst birthday, Aunt Eldora crushing her lungs at mom’s funeral, the handful she shared with Iraenya, including the one signifying their tidy breakup after she signed on for the Andromedra Initiative. Even then, privately, she thinks the word ‘hug’ is far off the mark for all those situations.

There isn’t a single word that would be on the mark. All she can think of are the plastic dolls she played with as a kid and their serene, frozen-faced smiles (although her Matriarch Dilinaga was partially melted from her last expedition into the ‘Attican Traverse’, so it was more of a grimace) as she clacked them together into rough approximations of an embrace, their arms extended out and rigid.

Realization strikes him and Jaal chuckles, squeezing her tense shoulder. “Ah, you’re... ‘pulling my foot’.”

“Uh...no.” Her frozen-faced grimace is a near exact replica of her Dilinaga doll. “I’m not. I am really bad at them.I get...tense and awkward. It’s like hugging a bundle of sticks but with less capacity for warmth.”

“Oh.” The word drops between them like a stone. As the echoes clatter around them something strange happens to his face. It’s been weeks, so it takes her a moment to realize he’s schooling his expression to mask his emotions. Poorly. He manages to banish some of the slow-dawning horror drawing his brow into a rictus of concern and plaster up a tremulous smile as he gently releases her shoulder. The loss gusts cold beneath the thin edge of her shirt.

“I didn’t...I didn’t think that was possible…” She watches him choose his words with care, discarding a dozen alternatives before settling on one free of judgement. Considering his vehement pronouncements on emotionally stunted humans, it’s absence is...unexpected. “I don’t entirely understand. Is that...healthy for humans?”

“For some it is. For some people, the physical contact can be overwhelming. Painful, even. But  I don’t think it’s something you can generalize with us.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands and finally settles for crossing his arms over his chest, folding them away. “I see.”

It would be nothing to reach out and pull his hand back into hers. A dozen centimeters, maybe less. Her fingers ache with possibility but that dozen centimeters is a 2.5 million light-year wide gap between them, full to the brim with mores and customs and her own personal hang-ups piled on for good measure. She sucks in a breath and squares her shoulders, her muscles drawing tighter, her hands clenching in on themselves.  

“Then,” he asks, “for you, specifically?”

“Uh…”

Blunt but disarming. Her shoulders fall and her hands uncurl in synchrony—as if he’s hit a reset button and restored her back to original factory settings. Factory-setting Se-Ah is not eloquent. All she does is gape while her brain finishes the laborious process of starting back up again.

“I don’t actually know? It’s not an easy question to answer.”

“It isn’t?”

“No!” Se-ah cries, an improbable laugh hiccuping through the word. “I mean, maybe it should be but it just isn’t for me. It’s been over 600 years since I’ve really touched anyone, much less hugged anyone and only part of that is because of the cryogenic coma.”

“That sounds...so painful.” Naked distress flashes through his face, to raw to hide, and his hand crosses between them to thumb a line from the point of her jaw to her ear. His fingers skim the curve of her ear before he can collect himself again and draw back. She doesn’t let him. Her palm traps his hand against her neck, over her pulse point.

“It’s just what I’m used to. I’ve never even thought about it until recently.”

His gloved thumb rubs a reassuring circle against her skin. “And now that you’ve thought about it?”

Fitting her fingers  into the spaces between his, she smiles. His hand on her feels better than anything and she wants...she wants more.

“ I think the problem is that I don’t have enough data. I’ll need to run some tests if you wouldn’t mind...helping?”

Jaal’s laugh rumbles against her ear, his arms enfolding her. It’s awkward. Her cheek bumps against the alien ridge of his chest, her hands and arms don’t quite know what to do and her muscles lock up against him.

“I told you I was bad at this,” she says, glad that he can’t see her mortified blush. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Jaal’s arms loosen around her. “No, but this can’t be comfortable for you.”

Still cupping the curve of her neck, he pulls her closer into the embrace with the arm banding across her back. Another laugh reverberates, deep, all the way down to her toes. “I think you’re doing very well. Just...try to relax.”

Tentative, her free hand slips beneath the fluttering line of his rofjinn  towards his back. He’s so warm. Her arms tighten against him and with a bit of settling, her cheek finds a nice hollow. Seconds pass, an interminable amount of time for a hug before, but now her whole body is tingling. It’s as if she’s fallen asleep on the workbench and woken up with her arm numb below the elbow before going to pins and needles--except all over. It’s like waking up in a cryogenic chamber. Coming alive all at once, overwhelmed with something where there was once so much nothing.

The miniature star in her chest expands, rises, and spills out of her lips as a gasping sob.

[dreamingcellardoor]

Crossovers are my jam

A HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS AGO (I'm joking, it was more like 2 or 3), when I was first starting out I went around filling a lot of AC Kink Meme stuff and wrote a crossover with Bokura no Kiseki where Malik Al-Sayf marries Princess Veronica of Zerestria as part of an arranged marriage for no other reason than because it amused me to pit Eternally Prickly Grump Malik against Eteranl Ray of Sunshine Veronica. Not for actual shipping reasons because I feel like a platonic, sibling relationship developping between these two would be adorable.

Due to recent revelations about the possible purpose of Rainesburg and because I just can't seem to finish this story I've decided to give it up as a lost cause.

But here are some favourites:

(NOTE: This is all pretty self-indulgent so. Proceed at your own discretion.

In both Zerestria and its neighbour Moswick, it was customary for each member of the royal family to receive a one of a kind earring with a single stone on the end to wear on the left ear. Those who served them, would be given an earring that matched their lord or lady's to wear. It was a show of loyalty and servitude.

They had one prepared for Malik.

Malik wasn't even surprised.... What surprised him, was the disgust and anger that welled within him, rising like a tide after so long of feeling nothing.

He was an assassin, his only loyalty was to the Order, to their Creed. He was not some dog to be collared and put on display to stroke some foreign royalty's ego.

His hand (singular) curled into a fist and he felt his nails biting into his palm. He could not fight it, this was for the good of the Order, he had accepted this. This too, was out of loyalty for the Order (to which he had already sacrificed blood and limb).

But something within him still fought against this. Maybe it was pride. It was probably the only thing from his previous life he had left.

The priest walked closer, the earring, a round stone that was a rich red dangling from a short chain of gold, sitting in the middle of a velvet pillow and Malik fought down the urge to slap it out of his hands.

"I would like to see it."

The princess's voice, soft and calm, called out and suddenly, everything stopped. Even Malik slowly turned his attention to where the princess was sitting.

...

Eventually, the priest turned and held the pillow out for the princess. No one stopped her when she reached out to take the earring in her hand.... She looked up then, blue eyes staring right at Malik and held his gaze for a moment. Her expression was grim, but determined. ...

...Princess Veronica of Zerestria pushed the window open, pulled her arm back and threw the earring out the window. Dimly, Malik remembered reading that the materials used to make those earrings are rare and incredibly hard to come by. Replacements cannot be easily made and requests for them were often denied.

I feel like afterwards she must have been like GLEN I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN IT TO YOU INSTEAD.

He breathed in deeply, before letting his bag drop to the ground. Then he walked accross the room to look out the window. It had snowed recently, so when he looked out, the world was covered in white. The world outside was foreign and Malik did not recognize it.

He felt his chest constrict (in his mind could still see the map, could still see the line he had drawn on it from Masyaf to Rainesburg but it felt even further now than ever before) and he was unprepared for the ache and longing for <I>home</I> that suddenly took him now, when he was finally where he needed to be.’

Malik is homesick and the next morning rearranges the furniture in his room to create a makeshift training space. Veronica sees the space and thinks up another use:

Then they had a picnic. In Malik's room.

He had protested, because there was only so much ridiculousness he was willing to put up with on any given day and an indoor picnic went far beyond that.

Regardless, it ended up happening, much to Malik's irritation and dismay.

And Rainesburg’s library:

The first time he'd stepped foot into it, he had been unimpressed. It was fairly small and, more importantly, it was quite empty. There weren't even any of those fake books some nobles were so keen to fill their shelves with so it would not appear so empty.

(There actually had been, once upon a time, but they had annoyed Veronica when she first arrived, increasingly so when she pulled book after book off the shelves only to realize they weren't books at all. She had them removed and put to better use as over-sized door stops, paperweights or other miscellaneous jobs. One was famously being used as a chopping block.)

And then Veronica steals Malik’;s clothes because Malik was being stubborn:

At some point, Malik had needed more clothes made in addition to the few he had brought with him. He had put it off, unwilling to give up on any piece of home, until he chided himself for being so foolish and impractical. Especially seeing as he only brought winter clothes with him. It was all moot, however, when he realized that, at some point, Veronica had commandeered a set of his clothes and seen if something similar could be made.

Veronica finds herself someone to teach her to make maps and speak Arabic. Malik finds himself a student that wants to learn literally everything:

"Oh." She said, doesn't even mind that he'd rapped her over the head (and perhaps feeling a bit happy about it because no one has ever done that before), "Do you know how?" When he dropped his hand, she snatched it up, as quickly as any accomplished thief, and gently holds it between her two. "Will you teach me if you do?"

He stares at his hand in hers and tries to sound put-upon when he answers.

"You would only pester me to teach you if I refused."

He does not return her grip or her smile, but he doesn't pull away either, and her smile widens, apparently considering that more important than his gruff words. She draws his hand closer to herself as she says warmly, "Thank you, Malik."

A brief interlude where Altair figures out Rashid had Plans in Zerestria that required sending a man in to marry the princess, that Robert De Sable probably ratted out the assassin who will likely be executed and that Malik is alive (but may not be very soon). All at once.

And he thought, this had to be wrong. The words could not be true, because <I>he</I> was dead. (But then again, what better man to send for something that must be kept a secret from everyone than a dead one?)

You know, right before he goes to save Malik though I could not work around the scenes I’d already written because it was based on the set up that Altair doesn’t speak the language but why send someone who cannot understand the language to stage a rescue that may possibly involve diplomacy?

Also, Malik goes to be executed for the Good of the Brotherhood. Veronica is Not Amused.

Anger was not a feeling Veronica was familiar with, but it filled her chest these days and it was incandescent like a flame spreading through a forest.

Malik took one look at the stormy expression on her face and sighed, "don't look like that."

Her fingers were white with how tightly she was holding the bars. "Why will you not fight them? Why do you offer your life so easily?" Because Malik hadn't fought them and Veronica didn't understand why.

He sighed again and stood up from where he had been sitting against the cell wall to walk over to her.

...

She reached between the bars and Malik took her hand in his. Her hand was so small compared to his, so soft and breakable, but her grip was <I>strong</I> and unfaltering.

Malik shook his head, "Masyaf is too far for your brothers to attack without good reason and it is too far for our Order to retaliate against. Killing me would be enough of a demonstration to smooth things over and I am not so important it would move my brothers to attack."

"You <I>are</I> important, Malik." Her other hand joined her first one through the bars, "please. You should not give in so easily."

But maybe my favourite is: 

Some days, when he can't take how stagnant this place was, he takes his horse out, leaves through the gates and rides, hard and fast with no particular destination in mind. Climbing was a balm as well, but there is no city to fly over the roof tops of, nowhere to become truly lost in within the walls surrounding the castle. So he goes out into the flat areas surrounding the castle instead. Goes far enough sometimes that it's dark before he returns.

(Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he thinks about what would happen if he didn't return, if he just kept riding and riding until he could out-run the past and the present. But that's a fool's solution and, every time, Malik would find himself drawn back by the lamp they light outside when they know he's out, a flickering, guiding light for him.)

And its sister-scene later on:

"I wonder what it is like to have a relationship like that with one's brother?" Veronica looks up suddenly, when it occurs to her that she didn't know if Malik had any siblings, but the question dies on her tongue when she sees the way he was looking off to the side, mouth tight. His eyes are far away, as if he was staring at some point beyond the landscape outside the window, to some haunted, awful thing that existed neither in this place or time.

(It was the look that sometimes precluded him riding out into the night as if he inteded to flee, when Veronica would ask the servants to please make sure the lamps remained lit so that he would not become lost in the darkness.)

In case it’s no obvious, I love stories where two unrelated people find each other and developed a sibling like relationship.

[eloquenceandemphasis]

Diplomacy Ship Discretion (Shoot for the Moon)

Brooke was crowded into a room with too many people. She shared a bunk with a man that smelled like onions constantly. She missed Artemis and the Pathfinder but tried not to let it show.

“Who are you?” a girl asked her, smiling. They shook hands.

“Brooke Miller,” she replied. “I came from the RS Pathfinder.” The girl raised her eyebrows but didn’t react.

“Ah. I heard about what you did. Excellent job thrusting us into a war.” Brooke glared at her.

“Ellen, be nice,” chided an older looking man. “Brooke, I heard about what you did. I think that took a remarkable amount of bravery.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

The ship suddenly spun about, dodging something.

“Take cover!” shouted the AI. Brooke resolved to hack the AI and replace it with Edward as soon as possible; she missed him quite a lot. The various diplomats flattened themselves against the ground.

“Prepare for warp.” The warp drive whirred to life, sending the ship flying through space for a few moments then stopped.

“Ship is too damaged to continue warping.” The diplomats shot each other looks of panic. Brooke stood up, wincing at the bruise on her arm.

“Don’t be afraid,” she told the entire room. “Sure, things look bad, but we’re a diplomacy ship. They’ll come for us.” The ship rumbled and the lights shut off. The generator powered on the emergency lights, but the engine did not turn back on.

The DS Discretion was lost in space.

[just-arsene-around-blog]

👀 + Akira/Haru *wink*

send me 👀 + a ship ( platonic / romantic / hate ) & i’ll give you 3 headcanons [Accepting]

1.> Akira has told Haru to feel free to ask him anything without any need for permission on his part, no matter how awkward or personal the question. This has sometimes caused hilarity to ensue when Haru bluntly asks him something rather sensitive, though he does answer to the best of his ability. In exchange, she in turn has granted him similar permission, though he Kindly does his utmost to use diplomacy and discretion with his own inquiries.

2.> Sometimes when the two of them get together, they simply decide to sit on the couch or bed in Akira’s room and just snuggle quietly for hours at a time. They don’t talk or perform any other kind of activity during this time, simply relishing each other’s presence and comfort. Sessions include hair-stroking, back scratching, and even back and shoulder massages (gardening and heart-thievery can be very hard work).

3.> Akira likes to take Haru to less expensive restaurants where she can enjoy ‘typical teenage cuisine.’ She has expressed a fascination with ramen bowls in particular, and has expressed intense curiosity regarding their creation and nutritional value, even going so far as to consider what other vegetables might be added. She also eats her ramen in a very cute way, wrinkling her nose whenever she accidentally slurps the noodles, which is especially endearing to Akira.

[theoriginalkidwithapen]

Principia – De Motu Corporum VII

CW:  ableist language, foul language, death, murder, poisoning, colonialism, government surveillance, divorce, infidelity, coronavirus mention

“The spaces which a body describes by any finite force urging it, whether that force is determined and immutable, or is continually augmented or continually diminished, are in the very beginning of the motion one to the other in the duplicate ratio of the times.”

– Sir Issac Newton, “Philosophae Naturalis Principia Mathematica”

It took Peregrine about an hour to arrive at Grimaldi Station from the remains of Fasal under the power of her Orbital Maneuvering System.  These engines, among the latest in a long line of auxiliary propulsion systems dating back to the dawn of manned spaceflight, were used to reorient and propel spacecraft when it would be inappropriate to use the main engines.  Unlike its distant ancestors, Peregrine’s OMS didn’t use hideously toxic and corrosive hypergolic fuels, but was instead propelled by superheating purified water with high-energy microwaves.  Peregrine was equipped with 931 of these little thrusters, each the size of a steel drum and arranged in clusters of 133 to allow translation along all three spatial axes, with an additional cluster at the rear to expedite forward acceleration, and as they had no electrodes or moving parts, and used an easily stored propellant, Microwave Electrothermal Thrusters made for ideal reaction control units for large spacecraft. From the outside, Grimaldi Station resembled a spider dropping down from the Moon on a filament of its silk – its legs splayed out in all directions.  However, this description betrays a geocentric view, as in actuality Grimaldi Station was standing atop a 61,350-kilometer-tall tower, held in place by its position at EML-1, which allowed the station to hover motionlessly above Sinus Medii exactly at the Moon’s 0º latitude and right ascension coordinates.  The tower contained dozens of elevator rails to easily transport people and freight between Grimaldi Station and Surveyor City below on the lunar surface – it was a vital, delicate lifeline for the lunar colonies, which were buried under the surface to protect their inhabitants from the deadly radiation aboveground.

Peregrine gently coasted into a berth on the northwestern “leg” of the station, which stuck out from it like the hairs on a tarantula’s exoskeleton.  There were hundreds of these gantries, many of them with spacecraft docked.  Peregrine pointed her nose at the blue Earth as she docked, so that her decks ran parallel to the lunar surface.  After Peregrine’s hull touched the gantry, large arms with powerful clamps unfolded to fasten the ship in place. “And that, gentlesophs, is how we do that,” Jon bragged after everyone heard the dull thud and felt the light shake of the clamps locking. “You docked 0.32 meters per second too fast,” Peregrine commented bemusedly, “and your alignment was off by 0.7 centimeters.” “Considering that I was eyeballing it for the last 15 seconds, I think it went well,” Jon replied. “If you say so, dear,” Peregrine dismissed. “Anyways,” Jon concluded as he stood up and made his way to the below decks ladder, “Make sure those hydrocarbon tanks get removed, and that we get paid for bringing them here.” “Roger, love!” Peregrine confirmed as Jon climbed down to the accommodations deck.  He got to the bottom just in time for Sara to trip over her own two feet and bowl straight into him. “Ow!  Goddammit!” Sara yelled in frustration. “Easy there, Earther,” Jon said as he helped Sara to her feet, “You’re not used to 1/6th g and the lack of Coriolis motion.  It’s a lot to take in all at once.” “I fucking hate space,” Sara grumbled, “Everywhere I go, I have to learn to walk all over again.” “Well, with any luck you won’t have to anymore,” Jon said, “Once we’ve got you situated on Luna, you’ll have the rest of your life to adapt.” “Hold up,” Sara protested, “Ain’t I part of your crew?” “Look, I only told the good captain that so I could keep them from locking you away in an Earth Forces black site forever,” Jon dismissed as he made his way over to the next below decks ladder, “I never said you were hired.  In fact, I don’t even know how you could possibly be helpful to this crew.” “I’m strong,” Sara argued desperately as she followed him down the ladder, “maybe stronger than you, even!  I can help carry stuff around!” “So is Tallen,” Jon countered impatiently, “Look, it’s not your body I doubt, it’s your mind and your education that I find wanting.” “Why?  ‘Cause I’m an Earther!?” “Frankly, yes!” Jon snapped, “Even the smartest and best educated Earthers score an average of 47 points lower across the board than your typical Martian in a 7-Factor Intelligence Assessment – that’s about equal to a difference of 50 IQ points.  Earthers require a stupendous amount of time, effort, and resources to be uplifted to the point where they can even function in Martian society, and to be perfectly candid, even with all the best remedial education and wetware upgrades that Mars can provide, you’ll never truly be accepted by society because you’ll stand out as a salvage job!  You got it!?” Sara was stunned into silence by Jon’s tirade.  Even Martians thought that she was a waste of resources. “That said,” Jon concluded, “there may be a place for you here in the Lunar colonies.  While we’re here in Surveyor City, I’ll talk to some people I know about finding you work and a place to stay, as well as resources to continue your education.” They finally made their way into the airlock, which had both doors open and leading to the pressure gantry which connected the ship to Grimaldi Station.  Misty, Tallen, and Ayane were waiting for them.  Misty looked upset. “Well, “Jon ordered, “let’s get going.  Next stop:  Surveyor City.”

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The main concourse of Grimaldi Station was located in the cephalothorax region of the spider, where all of the legs branched out from.  Its design was grandiose, overstated, and cavernous – typical of Earther architecture.  While it was doubtless comfortable to Earthers, most Selenites found the wide open spaces and the day/night cycle complete with natural sounds from Earth played in the background unsettling – a natural consequence of spending one’s entire lifetime living in tunnels and furnished lava tubes. Inspector Finchley exited the hall to the eastern leg of the station and tumbled into the outer court of the main concourse, his stride hampered by his unfamiliarity with the low gravity.  He looked up quickly enough to see one of the Selenite clerks stifle her giggle at his clumsiness.  Finchley glared at her before picking himself up and continuing on his way, bruised ego and all. There were thousands of people in the concourse, all going about their business in a manner befitting one of the largest spaceports in the Earth Sphere.  The bustle of human activity was dizzying – Finchley could hear at least 11 different languages being spoken all at once in this slice of the concourse alone.  Looking out across the rotunda, he could see the bright lights and color of the commercial sector, and six levels down, the mirrored enclosure concealing the interior of the discom – short for “discretion compartment.” The discom was an essential part of life in space, he was told:  an officially demarcated sector of a colony where surveillance by the government or station security was prohibited.  No records existed of what went on inside – indeed, the only circumstance under which law enforcement was permitted entry was if they had been summoned there by someone within in the event of an emergency.  While not its primary function, most of the station’s brothels, gambling halls, fight clubs, and drug dens were located there, and the Organization’s agents operated openly within.  Despite being a fertile breeding ground for criminal activity, it was also an important place for informal diplomacy – it was in that very location in 2109 that the 15th Dalai Lama secretly negotiated with the prime minister of India for the right to establish an autonomous Tibetan colony under Tenzing Montes on Pluto in defiance of the Chinese government’s resettlement ban on its non-Han Chinese subjects. Still, it was a bloody nuisance when it came to keeping law and order in the colonies.  Bloody Loonies and their cultural peculiarities. Finchley felt his handset vibrate in his pocket.  “Finchley,” he said as he answered the call. “Ewan, this is Anh Lihn Nguyen,” the caller said, “Could you please come to the Governor’s Residence right away?  There’s been an incident that requires the attention of the Ministry of Inquiry, and I’m told that you’re in the neighborhood.” “What sort of incident?” Finchley asked. “Governor Najjar is dead,” Nguyen replied, “and I believe he may have been murdered.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Even racing down toward Surveyor City at an acceleration rate of 11.6 kilometers per hour, it still took the Grimaldi Space Elevator 1 hour, 37 minutes, and 24 seconds to make the trip.  That’s not to say that it wasn’t fast – it was, after all, an express train to the surface with no stops along the way. The station at the base of the elevator was yet another bustling thoroughfare, divided into two passenger terminals on opposite sides of the tether, each with a cyclopean loading dock on either side for freight.  While the cargo elevator trains could be seen ascending and descending from the banks of large plate windows in the passenger foyer, the actual process of longshoremanship was deliberately concealed by armored airlock doors so that the throngs of terrestrial tourists wouldn’t have to witness the Selenite stevedores serving the Sisyphean scutwork of logistical labor – after all, it wouldn’t do for vacationing Earthers to have their Lunar holiday ruined by the sight of those menial Morlocks laboring long hours, greasing the gears of civilization. Misty hadn’t spoken the entire trip, and showed no signs of starting after they exited the train.  While she was never particularly loquacious to begin with, Jon knew her well enough to be concerned whenever she got dead silent.  However, she wordlessly rebuffed him every time he tried to bring it up on the trip down, so he decided to leave it alone.  She’ll talk about what’s bothering her when she’s ready. They exited the boarding tower along with the hundreds of tourists, government officials, businesspeople, soldiers, spacers, and others flowing out of the gates to the duty-free commercial zone on the way to the subway terminals which served as the largest arrival and departure hub on the Moon.  The loop line that made the round trip to Surveyor City, located 114 kilometers north underneath the southern wall of Murchison Crater, was the only one that ran frequently enough to not require a schedule. If there’s one place that’s even more of a shithole than Earth, Jon thought as he tried to ignore the scene of spaceport commerce that threatened to engulf him, it’s Luna.  It’s run by clueless Earther who don’t even have to set foot on this dust ball.  They neither understand nor care about the reality of living in space, while the poor Selenites who have to actually live here are left to frantically mailbox neglected infrastructure because they’re not afforded the resources they need to maintain them right.  Hell, about the only part of Lunar colonies that are maintained properly are the tourism amenities.  Plus, everyone’s in a hurry, either to keep the ailing systems running or to appease visiting Earthers, so there’s little opportunity for pleasantries.  The fact that the natives have to live in tunnels while they’re forced to wait hand and foot on Earthers who get to live in the lap of luxury has been a constant source of unrest here for generations. Tallen stopped briefly at a gift kiosk and purchased a little scale model of the Surveyor 6 space probe, which was clearly printed from aluminum powder bonded by epoxy.  Jon noticed that when the clerk rang him up, the register automatically raised the price by 30% for his low credit score. The thing I can’t stand the most is the micromanagement, Jon grumbled internally, I don’t mind a panopticon surveillance system – anyone who’s not from Earth is used to being monitored by some authority or another – but this ridiculous social credit system that’s been imposed upon them by their terrestrial overlords dictates what services you’re entitled to, right down to the price you pay in stores.  I’ve lost count of the number of times Peregrine has been preempted for docking by a lunar ferry full of big-noise Earthers because they can afford to buy a better social rating.  If I had my way, I’d never come back here again, but it can’t be helped. “Where are we going first?” Ayane asked Jon surreptitiously. “I think we’ll go see our mutual acquaintance first,” Jon mulled, “Hopefully that meets with your approval.” “You’re the captain,” she replied, “You don’t need my approval.” “But it is your mission,” Jon countered, “Don’t you want to grab a bite first or something?” “You’re not trying to hit on me, are you?” Ayane asked low-key playfully, “Because I’m afraid that Martian tramp freighter captains really aren’t my type.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jon answered, “The woman I’m married with is right behind us, after all.” “Are you saying that marriage prevents men from seeking affairs?” Ayane asked coyly. “No,” Jon replied, “I literally wouldn’t dream of it.  It’s not in my nature.” “Is that so?” Ayane asked with feigned disappointment, “You’ll never know what you missed.” They continued down the crowded concourse for a full minute before the realization struck Jon like a meteorite. “Wait,” he asked in disbelief, “were you hitting on me?”  Ayane smirked.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The Lunar Governor’s residence was conveniently located in Grimaldi Station’s abdomen, between the tether and the rest of the spider.  The campus was inside an expansive enclosure which was large enough to accommodate a mansion which rivaled the manors of Gilded Age industrialists in size and grandeur, as well as grounds half a hectare in area.  The bulkheads displayed a soothing grassland landscape, complete with simulated sunlight and cloud cover against a sky a shade of blue not seen on Earth in 400 years. Finchley thought that the wrought-iron fence in granite masonry was a little much, although it complemented the property’s fortifications nicely.  The layer of ballistic glass discreetly mounted behind the barricade further drove home the fact that visitors would spend their entire stay under a microscope. Coming up to the baroque front gate, Finchley presented his credentials to the soldiers standing guard in full tactical gear.  After finding his paperwork satisfactory, the gate unlocked and swung open.  He was ushered inside, where he was met by two agents of the campus security force.  They escorted him down the cobblestone path to the mansion. Finchley noted the two MCV-92A1 Jianyings barely concealed behind the meticulously trimmed hedgerows flanking the path.  These Mechanized Combat Vehicles, while descended from the main battle tanks in use in the 21st century, had about as much in common with them as a tank did with a horse-drawn chariot.  They stood on four articulated, insectoid legs, each terminating in an armored caterpillar tread.  Their hulls resembled those of battle tanks, complete with sloped armor and a turret mounting a main cannon, with a light machine gun and an automatic grenade launcher on pintle mounts outside the commander and comms operator hatches.  Underneath, they had four rocket motors for limited flight capability. As they approached the front door, Finchley saw an armored car parked out front emblazoned with the eye-within-a-shield insignia of the Ministry of Public Safety’s Department of Vigilance.  The main entrance to the mansion opened, and four operatives wearing the blue armbands of the Department of Vigilance exited, guiding a young Selenite woman wearing the uniform of a maid employed at the Governor’s residence out in irons, her mouth gagged by a stainless steel bridle fastened by a chain.  Finchley’s eyes met hers for an instant, and he could see the defeated resignation to whatever fate awaited her in her eyes.  Their moment of eye contact was broken when the agents dragged her off to the car. Finchley’s escort only followed him as far as the main entrance, where they turned around and marched back to the front gate.  He was met by the butler, who wordlessly led him inside.  The two entered the main atrium, climbed the grand staircase, and turned down several corridors to an ostentatious dining hall with a polished marble tile floor.  Apart from the campus security guards, there were four people in the room.  Three of them were wearing Lunar Security Solutions uniforms, busy examining the scene. The fourth person was the governor himself, a fat Sudanese man with his face buried in his meal, his skin mottled blue and white.  There was a wet patch on the table near his right hand, and the broken remains of a shattered drinking glass lay scattered on the floor nearby. One of the LSS investigators, a muscular Vietnamese woman with short black hair, looked up from her tablet at Finchley, and after dismissing her colleague she walked over to him. “Inspector Finchley,” she said, offering her hand. “Detective Nguyen,” Finchley reciprocated, shaking her hand, “I believe I was summoned?” “I asked them to send their best,” Nguyen said playfully, “Farouk Al-Amir Najjar, the United Earth Governor-General of the Lunar Colonies, is dead.  We’re running the bloodwork now, but given that he died suddenly at the dinner table, we’re assuming foul play.” “Is that Selenite woman I saw being escorted off of the premises your prime suspect?” he asked. “Yes, security logs show that she was attending to the victim when he died,” Nguyen confirmed, sending Finchley the case files with a flick from her tablet, “but to summarize:  She poured him a glass of water, he drank from it, and minutes later he began convulsing and had trouble breathing, and then he collapsed, his skin started to turn blue from lack of oxygen.  From the moment he took the first sip, he was dead within five minutes.” “It sounds like he died from heart failure,” Finchley guessed. “Heart failure?” Nguyen asked incredulously, “On the moon?  Retirees come up here because the low gravity is easier on the bodies of the elderly.  More people here die of tropical diseases than heart problems.” “Well,” Finchley declared, “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” “I know a good Mexican restaurant in the western concourse,” Nguyen offered, “I’ll buy.”

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“How exactly does one contract a tropical disease ” Finchley asked before spooning a forkful of barbacoa from his bowl into his mouth.

“You’d be amazed what gets past the bioscans at Turrim Asia,” Nguyen sighed, “I hear that Heaven’s Pillar had a coronavirus outbreak just last month.”

“Sounds like the Department of Space Elevator Operations fouled up again,” Finchley complained.

“No chance the coming transition in government will shuffle the cabinet enough to solve that problem?”  Nguyen asked, “The last thing the colonies need right now is a pandemic caused by a traveler forgetting to wash their hands.”  She took a hearty bite out of her burrito, which was large enough to require both hands to hold.

“I should hope not,” Finchley mulled through a mouthful of Mexican-grilled barbecue, “Widespread reform could make things worse, especially for Section 5.”

“I suppose,” Nguyen considered, “especially since the Pan-American Federation is up for appointing the next Prime Minister.  I hear that they’ve chosen someone from the United States to head the coming government, if you can believe that!”

“An American?” Finchley exclaimed in astonishment, “Bloody hell, this’ll be a disaster!  Couldn’t they have picked someone from a civilised country, like Haiti or Venezuela?”

“I’d be more optimistic about this whole thing if it weren’t for how calamitously the last time they ruled the world went,” Nguyen munched in agreement, “but maybe the Americans have learned their lesson and won’t try to be the world’s policeman again.”

“I doubt it,” Finchley observed, “The Americans never really saw themselves as conquerors, not even at the height of their empire.  They always managed to delude themselves into believing that they were liberating their subjects from oppressive regimes somehow.”

Nguyen glanced at the wedding ring on Finchley’s hand.  “Speaking of oppressive regimes,” she began cautiously, “I take it that you’re still married to that hag?”

“No,” Finchley said, “Sinead filed for divorce six months ago.  She was absolutely livid when she found out about us.”

“What tipped her off?” Nguyen asked, “She didn’t strike me as the brightest star in the sky.”

“I was on Ceres working on a case when our tax preparer called about some unusual charges to our joint credit account,” Finchley confessed, “Because of the 25-minute time lag, she got back to him first.  The rest is history.”  He punctuated his last sentence by knocking back a finger of scotch.  He flipped the glass over with practiced dexterity and slapped it onto one of the hedgehog’s springy aluminum spines along with the other two glasses he had already finished.

“It’s not like you to leave a data trail like that,” Nguyen commented before taking another voluminous bite out of her burrito.

“You’re right about that,” Finchley agreed, “Maybe I wanted her to find out so it would be over, but I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”

He ate another forkful of spicy barbacoa and barely chewed it before swallowing.

“It’s not as if she was at all surprised by it,” Finchley continued with a bitterness rivaled only by Nguyen’s beer, “just angry that it actually happened.  When she finally gave notice that she wanted to separate, I was struck most by what a quiet affair it was.”

He knocked back his fourth scotch before continuing.  “I suppose that after all of the arguments have been had, the recriminations made, and harsh language inflicted, there’s really nothing left to say.”

[jwslw]

d20 Modern Metal Slug Part 3 Mars People

Martians/Mars People (From the MetalSlug Wiki)

Species Traits

Ability Modifiers: +2dex, -2con, +2int, -2cha.  Mars People are agile and clever but, they are not hardy creatures and their alien minds make relating to other creatures difficult  

Aberration traits (Ex): Mars People have all traits common to aberrations.

Natural Armor

Medium Size:  Mars people receive no special bonuses or penalties based on size.

Darkvision: Mars People have Darkvision out to a range of 60ft

Base Land Speed: 30ft, Mars people ignore the normal penalties for moving across rough terrain.

Skills : Mars People receive a +4 Species bonus to Jump and Tumble checks

Multiple Limbs (Ex):  Mars People have dozens of tentacles, granting the the Mars people a +4 species bonus to Grapple attempts, Climb checks, and checks to resist trip and over run attempts.  A Mars person may use upto 4 tentacles to manipulate equipment when moving or all of its tentacles for manipulating controls in their vehicles.

Grace (Ex): Mars People suffer half as much fall damage as normal on a failed reflex save or no damage on a successful save.

Limited Telepathy (Su): A Mars Person can communicate telepathically with any creature within 100ft that has a language.

Free Language: All Mars People begin play with the ability to read, write and speak their own language (Mars People).  

Level Adjustment:+1.

Progress Level: Base line Human +1

Typical Mars Person CR4. Medium Aberration Fast Hero2/Smart Hero2 HD:2d8-2 plus 2d6-2. HP17. Mas8. Init:+3. Spd 30ft. Defense:18,Touch18, FF15(+3dex,+5Class). Bab+2. Grapl+7. Atk: +5ranged (2d10 RI; 40ft Plasma Pistol). Full Atk: -2melee(1d3+1 non lethal 4 tentacle slaps). FS:5ftx5ft. R:5ft. SQ: Aberration traits, Darkvision 60ft, Multiple limbs, Grace, Limited Telepathy. AL:Mars People Empire or Invader Empire. Sv Frt-1, Ref+5, Wil+3. AP:4. Rep+1. Str13, Dex16, Con8, Int18 Wis12, Cha6.

Occupation: Adventurer (Survival, Treat Injury)

Skills: Climb+5, Computer Use+13, Demolitions+9, Disable Device+9, Drive+8, Hide+10, Jump+5, Move Silently+10, Pilot+8, Profession+6, Read/Write/Speak (Mars People), Repair+11, Ride+8, Treat Injury+6, Tumble+7

Feats: Aircraft Operation (Space craft), Gear Head, Mecha Operation, Personal Firearms Proficiency, Simple Weapons Proficiency, Stealthy

Talents: Evasion, Savant (Computer Use)

Possessions: Plasma Pistol (3lb) w/1d4+1 power cells, various gear and personal possessions.

Monoeye

Species Traits

Outsider Type (Su): Monoeyes have all traits common to outsiders.

Darkvision: Monoeyes have Darkvision out to a range of 240ft

Bonus Feats: Monoeyes receive Archaic weapons proficiency as a bonus feat

Telepathy (Su): Monoeyes can communicate telepathically with any creature within 1 mile that has a language

Levitation (Su): Monoeyes are constantly surrounded in a field psionic energy, this field allows the Monoeye to fly at a base speed of 50ft with perfect maneuverability.  A Monoeye can perform run actions while flying.

Telekinetics (Su): A Monoeye can manipulate all  unattended objects of upto 50lb within 100ft.

Energy Barrage (Su):  Monoeyes can conjure 5ft diameter orbs of energy, these orbs deal 6d6 points of damage half the damage is Electricity the other half is Fire.  A Monoeye can throw bolts individually (As a normal ranged attack), in “bursts” (-6 attack +3d6 damage) or in volleys into a 10ft by 10ft square (Def 10, -4 Attack, Reflex save 15 negates), the orbs have a range of 120ft with no increments

Natural Psionics (Su): Once every 1d4 rounds a Monoeye may manifest the following powers as a 10th level Psionic Agent; Burst, Combat Precognition, Levitate, Dimension Slide, Dimension Door, Immovable Object.

Monoeye CR16. Gargantuan Outsider HD:16d8+16. HP88. Mas13. Init:-2. Spd 10ft, fly 50ft (Perfect). Defense: 16,Touch4, FF16(-4size, -2dex,+12Nat). Bab+16. Grapl+38. Atk:+22melee(2d6+10 claw) or +11ranged (6d6 energy orb). Full Atk:+18melee(2 claws 2d6+10) or +11/+6/+1/-4ranged (6d6 energy orb) or +7/+2/-3/-8ranged (6d6 Ref 15 negates energy orb volley) or +5/+0/-5/-10ranged (9d6 energy orb burst). FS:30ftx30ft. R:15ft. SQ: Outsider traits, Darkvision 240ft, Levitation, Telepathy, Telekinetics, Energy Barrage, Natural Psionics. AL: Mars People Empire. Sv Frt+11,Ref+8,Wil+10. AP: N/A. Rep+0. Str31, Dex6, Con13, Int30, Wis11, Cha6.

Skills: Computer Use+29, Craft (Any three)+29, Demolitions+29, Diplomacy+1, Disable Device+29, Drive+17, Hide-14, Intimidate+17, Knowledge (Any three)+29, Listen+21, Move Silently+17, Pilot+17, Repair+29, Spot+21

Feats: Alertness, Simple Weapons Proficiency, Star ship Gunnery, Star ship Operation (Any one), Two weapon fighting, Weapon Focus (Energy Orb)

Advancement: None

Monoeye UFO

D20rules: The Monoeye UFO is considered a Huge Object (Def8, Hardness 25, HP110)

The Monoeye UFO has the following powers

---Animate Dead; Upon initial activation, every creature with 4 or fewer Hit Dice within 2 miles must pass a DC 25 Fortitude save or be converted into a random Undead (GM discretion, typically Zombies, d20 Modern Ghouls or Viral Deathspawn)

---Summon Monoeyes; At time of creation, a Monoeye UFO is bonded to 2d4+2 Monoeyes, once it is activated the UFO can summon these Monoeyes at anytime as a Full Round Action

---Homing Beacon; Once activated, the Monoeye UFO grants a +10 circumstance bonus to Navigation checks for friendly starships and aircraft.

---Summon Monoliths; The Monoeye UFO can create massive stone slabs that it will drop on to any potential hostile creatures.  The falling slabs hit everything within a 10ftx10ft square dealing 6d6 points of bludgeoning damage (Ref 15 negates), a Moneye UFO may summon upto 6 monoliths in a single round, but, it must recharge for 1d4+3 rounds between uses.

Hopper Mecha (PL6)

Hopper Mecha CR1/4. Construct. HD: 1/2d10+5. HP:7. Mas---. Init:+1. speed: 30ft. Defense:15, Touch12, FF14 (+1size, +1dex, +3equip). BaB:+0. Grapl:-4. Atk/Full Attack: +1melee(Slam 1d4). FS:5ftx5ft. R:5ft. SQ: Construct Traits, Self-Destruct (1d6). AL: Mars People empire. SV: Fort+0, Ref+1, Will+0. AP: N/A. Rep+0. Str11, Dex12, Con---, Int--, Wis10, Cha1. Skills: Listen+2, Spot+4 Feats: None Equipment: None Purchase DC: 23($4,870) Restriction: Mil+3. Frame: Armature. Locomotion: Legs (4). Manipulators: None Armor: Duraplastic. Sensors: Class V. Skill Software: None Feat Software: None Accessories: Self-Destruct System

Big Eyes (PL7)

Big Eye CR1/4. Construct. HD: 1/2d10+5. HP:7. Mas---. Init:+1. Speed: fly 30ft (Poor). Defense:15, Touch12, FF14 (+1size, +1dex, +3equip). BaB:+0. Grapl:-4. Atk/Full Attack:  +ranged (2d10 RI; 40ft Plasma Pistol) and (d). FS:5ftx5ft. R:5ft. SQ: Construct Traits. AL: Mars People empire. SV: Fort+0, Ref+1, Will+0. AP:N/A. Rep+0. Str11, Dex12, Con---, Int---, Wis10, Cha1. Skills: Listen+2, Spot+4 Feats: Personal Firearms Proficiency Equipment: Integrated Plasma pistol w/auto-loader gadget, 1d4+1 power cells Purchase DC: 24($6,410) Restriction: Mil+3. Frame: Armature. Locomotion: thrusters (basic). Manipulators: None Armor: Duraplastic. Sensors: Class V. Skill Software: None Feat Software: Feat Progit (Personal Firearms Proficiency) Accessories:  Weapon Mount

Ring Laser Mecha (リングレーザーメカ)

Species Traits

Construct Traits (Ex): Ring Laser Mecha have all traits common to constructs.

Advanced Sensors (Ex):  The visual and audio sensors on a Ring Laser Mecha grant it Low-light vision and 60ft Darkvision

Skills: Ring Laser Mecha receive skill points as an aberration.

Ring Beam (Ex): The Mecha can fire a Ring shaped Line of energy 160ft long by 10ft wide, the beam deals 12d6 points of Electricity damage (Ref15 negates)

Limited Telepathy (Su):  Ring Laser Mecha can communicate telepathically with any creature within 100ft that has a language

Ring Laser Mecha CR4. Large Construct HD:4d10+20. HP:42. Mas---. Init:-2. Spd 20ft. Defense:18, Touch8, FF18(-2dex,+10Nat). Bab+3. Grapl+11. Atk:+6melee(1d4+4 pincer). Full Atk:+melee(2 pincers 1d4+4) . FS:10ftx10ft. R:10ft. SQ: Construct traits, Advanced Sensors, Ring Beam, Limited Telepathy. AL:.Sv Frt+1,Ref-1,Wil+1. AP: N/A. Rep+0. Str19, Dex6, Con---, Int6, Wis11, Cha6.

Skills: Computer Use+3, Listen+4, Read/Write/Speak (Mars People), Spot+4

Feats: None

Advancement: 5-7HD (Large)

Mars Mecha (マーズメカ) (PL7)

Size: Huge, Quadrupedal (-2size) HP: 200 Super Structure: Duralloy Hardness:  15 Armor: Alumisteel Defense:+5 Penalty: -6 Reach: 10feet Strength:+16 Dexterity: --- Speed: 35feet Purchase DC: 45 ($2,114,500) Equipment Package: Crew: Cock Pit (Torso+Back), Integrated AI (Helmet), Class III Sensor System (Visor), Comm System

Defenses: Space Skin (Belt), 24 hours Life support (Shoulders)

Weapons: Bubble Launcher (Left arm+Right arm)

Bubble Launcher (PL6)

Creates bouncing spheres of energy to attack targets.

Damage: 4d6 Bludgeoning

Weight: 175lb

RoF: S

Slots: 2

Activation: Attack

Range Increment: 20ft

Target: Special

Duration: 1d4+2 rounds per bubble

Saving Throw: Ref 15 negates

Purchase DC:  30

Restriction: Mil+3

d20 rules:  Releases a bubble of force in the direction the Mecha is currently facing (No attack roll required), the bubble of force will move 20ft per round dealing the listed damage to anything in its path (Ref 15 negates), upon striking a target the bubble will ricochet off in a random direction.  A bubble will continue to bounce around the area until its duration has expired.  A Single Bubble launcher can maintain upto 3 bubbles at one time

Rootmars

Species Traits

Construct Traits (Ex):  Rootmars has all traits common to constructs.

Keen Senses (Ex): Rootmars has Darkvision out to a range of 120ft and low-light vision

Bonus Feats:  Rootmars receives Aircraft Operation (Spacecraft), Gearhead, Star ship Battle Run, Star ship Dodge, Star ship Feint, Star ship Gunnery, Star ship Mobility, Star ship Operation (Ultralight, Light, Medium-weight, Heavy, Super Heavy), Star ship Strafe, Vehicle Dodge and Vehicle Expert as Bonus feats

Skills: Rootmars receives Skill points as an Outsider

Acid (Ex): Rootmars can spit blobs of acid, it may spit as many globs per round as it has attacks, acid globs have a 30ft range increment and a max range of five increments.

Energy Barrage (Su):  once every 1d6 rounds, Rootmars can conjure 5ft diameter orbs of energy, these orbs deal 6d6 points of damage half the damage is Electricity the other half is Fire.  Rootmars can throw bolts individually (As a normal ranged attack), in “bursts” (-6 attack +3d6 damage) or in volleys into a 10ft by 10ft square (Def 10, -4 Attack, Reflex save 15 negates), the orbs have a range of 120ft with no increments.

Electronic Powers (Su):  Once every 1d4 rounds Rootmars may cast or manifest one of the following spells or psionics as a 10th level caster.  Degauss, Electromagnetic Pulse, Lightning Bolt, Electric Charge, Lightning Strike.

Ship Integration (Ex):  As long as a star ship has at least 200 tons of cargo space, Rootmars may be integrated into that ship's system, allowing it to control the ship completely on its own.  The process of integrating Rootmars into the ship's control system take 2d12+8 hours, safely removing Rootmars takes another 2d12+8 hours.  If Rootmars is reduced to 0hp while controlling the ship or if it is forced to quickly extract itself from the control network, the ship automatically drops to -1hp and begins breaking up as detailed in the star ship rules for d20 Future

Telepathy (Su):  Rootmars can communicate telepathically with ant creature within 1 mile that has a language

Rootmars CR24. Colossal Construct HD:32d10+120. HP296. Mas---. Init:+1. Spd fly 80ft (Average). Defense:15, Touch3, FF14(-8size, +1dex,+12nat). Bab+24. Grapl+50. Atk:+26melee(4d6+10 Slam) or +17ranged (4d4 acid spit). Full Atk:+21melee(2 slams 4d6+10) or +17/+12/+7/+2ranged (4d4 acid spit) +17/+12/+7/+2ranged (6d6 energy orb) or +11/+8/+3/-2ranged (6d6 Ref 15 negates energy orb volley) or +9/+6/+1/-4ranged (9d6 energy orb burst). FS:60ftx60ft. R:30ft. SQ:. AL: Mars People Empire or Regular Army. Sv Frt+10, Ref+11, Wil+10. AP: N/A. Rep+0. Str31, Dex13, Con---, Int10 Wis11, Cha8.

Skills: Bluff+16, Computer Use+19, Concentration+17, Demolitions+17, Diplomacy+16, Disable Device+17, Drive+20, Hide-16, Intimidate+16, Listen+17, Navigate+17, Pilot+20, Repair+19, Sense Motive+17, Spot+17, Survival+17.

Feats: Aircraft Operation (Spacecraft), Gearhead, Star ship Battle Run, Star ship Dodge, Star ship Feint, Star ship Gunnery, Star ship Mobility, Star ship Operation (Ultralight, Light, Medium-weight, Heavy, Super Heavy), Star ship Strafe, Vehicle Dodge, Vehicle Expert

Flying Machines

Mini UFO, Black Mini UFO (プチUFO·黒プチUFO) (Requires Aircraft Operation: Spacecraft) (PL6)

Crew: 1 Pass: 0 Cargo: 600lb Init: +1 Maneuver: +2 Top Speed: 250 (25). Defense: 9 Hard: 10  HP: 35 Size: L PDC: 47 Res: Res (+2) Face: 2/2 Armament: Turreted Laser Sniper Rifle. Bonuses: None. Equipment: -Laser Sniper Rifle: Damage: 3d8 Damage Type: Fire. Critical: 20. Range Increment:  120feet. Rate of Fire: S. Magazine: Infinite (attached to ship's power supply). Size: L. Weight:14lb. Purchase DC: 21 Restriction: Res+2 -Tractor Beam: Allows the pilot of the mini UFO to make grapple attempts against a single target within 100ft.  The Grapple check uses the pilots BaB, but, the UFO's size modifier and is considered to have a Strength Score of 20 (+5) for purposes of the check. -Comm System: Allows the Mini UFO to communicate with its mother ship when out of range of the crew's telepathic abilities.  Comm range 200miles

-Experimental Jump Drive: Allows the UFO to instantly travel upto 5 lightyears away from current position 1 per day as a Full Round Action or cast Dimension Door twice per day as a 10th level mage (can not perform both actions in the same day)

UFO (Requires Aircraft Operation; Spacecraft) (PL6)

Crew: 4 Pass: 0 Cargo: 2500lb Init: - Maneuver: - Top Speed:  (). Defense: Hard: 15  HP: 55  Size: H PDC:  Res: Mil (+3) Face: 4/4 Armament: Turreted Heavy Laser. Bonuses: Mil+3. Equipment: -Heavy Laser: Damage: 3d10 Damage Type: Fire. Critical: 20. Range Increment: 240feet. Rate of Fire: Single . Magazine: Infinite (attached to ship's power supply). Size: H. Weight: 100lb. Purchase DC: 27 Restriction: Mil+3 -Comm System: Allows the Mini UFO to communicate with its mother ship when out of range of the crew's telepathic abilities.  Comm range 200miles

-Remote control system: Allows the UFO to be operated from the relative safety of a mothership, range 100miles

Dai-Manji:

Dai-Manji (PL8)

Type: Ultra-light Size: Colossal (-8size)

Subtype: System Patrol Craft Tactical Speed: 3,500 Ft ( 7Sq)

Defense: 7                     Length: 140ft

   Flat Footed Def: 5 Weight  800Tons

   Autopilot Def: 5 Targeting Bonus +5

Hardness: 20 Crew:  4 Trained(+4)

Hit Dice: 15d20 (300hp) Passengers: 8

Initiative Mod +2 Cargo:  18,000lb

Pilot’s Class bonus +3 Grapple: +16

Pilot’s Dex Mod +2 PDC:   57

Gunner’s Atk +2 Restriction:  Restriction (+2)

Attacks:

EMP Cannon +1ranged(8d8 [36], RI; 4000ft)

Plasma Cannon +1ranged (14d8 [63] RI; 3000ft)

Attack of Opportunity:

N/A

Standard Design Specs: Power Plant: Anti-matter Reactor

Engines: Induction Engine, Thrusters

FTL Drive/After burners: None Super Structure/Armor: Alloy Plating Defenses:  Power-link, Auto Pilot Sensors: Class V Sensor Array, Improved Targeting System Communications: Drivesat Comm array, Mass Transceiver Weapons: Power-link, EMP Cannon,

Grapplers: Tractor Beam

Hangar: 8 Mini UFOs, can deploy upto 2 per round as a move action

Power-link (PL6)

A special Coupling system that allows larger vessels to boost the fire power of a smaller one.  As a Full Round Action an Ultralight vessel with a Power-link may dock with a Light size or larger star ship that also has a Power-link (Each ship must pass a DC 15 Pilot check) while connected, the larger vessel receives a +500ft bonus to its movement speed per attached Ultra-light, and the Ultra-light receives a substantial power boost to its energy based weapons (+4 Attack bonus, +1 Step Critical threat increase, +25% damage bonus [rounded down]). A Power-link takes up 1 weapon slot and 1 Defense slot, a Light or Larger vessel may have multiple Power-links each link can only support one Power-linked Ultra-light at a time.

Purchase DC 5+1/4 base purchase DC

Rugname:

Rugname (PL 6)

Type: Light Size: Colossal (-8size)

Subtype: Destroyer Tactical Speed: 3,000 Ft ( 6 Sq)

Defense: 3                     Length: 500ft

   Flat Footed Def:  2 Weight:  8000Tons

   Autopilot Def: 5 Targeting Bonus +3

Hardness: 30 Crew: 1  (Rootmars+20)

Hit Dice: 80d20 (1,600hp) Passengers: 88

Initiative Mod +2 Cargo:  120Tons

Pilot’s Class bonus +0 Grapple: +16

Pilot’s Dex Mod +1 PDC:   61

Gunner’s Atk +24 Restriction: Mil (+3)

Attacks:

            N/A  

Attack of Opportunity:

N/A

Standard PL Design Specs: Power Plant: Fission Reactor

Engines: Fusion Torch, Thrusters

FTL Drive/After burners:  N/A Super Structure/Armor: Vandium Defenses: 4x Power-links, improved autopilot system, improved damage control (3d10), radiation shielding, self-destruct system Sensors: Class II Sensor system, Targeting system Communications: Laser Transceiver, Radio Transceiver Weapons: 4x Power-links

Grapplers: None

Hangar: 16x Mini-UFO's, can deploy upto 4 at a time as a move action, 4 Dai-Manji attached to Power-links, 24+ Big Eyes

Ground Vehicles:   1d4 Mars Mecha.

[bountyofbeads]

Pompeo in Mideast talks on building a coalition against Iran

https://apnews.com/cf67b367c4164d4885ce14a3126eaa2d

Pompeo in Mideast talks on building a coalition against Iran

By AYA BATRAWY | Published June 24, 2019, 1:01 PM ET | AP | Posted June 24, 2019 |

DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) — U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo held talks Monday with the Saudi king and crown prince about countering the military threat from Iran by building a broad, global coalition that includes Asian and European countries.

Pompeo is likely to face a tough sell in Europe and Asia, particularly from those nations still committed to the 2015 nuclear deal with Iran that President Donald Trump repudiated last year.

With tensions running high in the region after Iran shot down a U.S. surveillance drone on June 20 and Trump said he aborted a retaliatory strike, Iran's naval commander warned that his forces won't hesitate to down more U.S. drones that violate its airspace. The U.S. has been building up its military presence in the Persian Gulf.

The U.S. announced additional sanctions Monday on Iran aimed at pressuring the Iranian leadership into talks. The sanctions, re-imposed after Trump withdrew from the nuclear deal, have crippled the Iranian economy and pushed up the cost of living. Iran has decried U.S. sanctions, which essentially bar it from selling its oil internationally, as "economic terrorism."

Pompeo, considered a hard-liner in Washington, referred to Iran as "the world's largest state sponsor of terror" before he embarked on the hastily arranged Middle East stops on his way to India, Japan and South Korea.

He said he'd be speaking with leaders in Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates "about how to make sure that we are all strategically aligned, and how we can build out a global coalition ... not only throughout the Gulf states, but in Asia and in Europe" that is prepared to push back against Iran.

But Germany, France and Britain, as well as Russia and China, remain part of the nuclear accord that lifted sanctions on Iran in exchange for set limits on its uranium enrichment levels. Trump pulled the U.S. out of the deal last year.

Germany, Britain and France have sent envoys to Tehran recently, signaling they remain committed to diplomacy and dialogue. They cautioned against moves that can lead to conflict between the U.S. and Iran.

Berlin appears cool toward U.S. talk of a global coalition against Iran as it tries to salvage the nuclear deal. German media have drawn parallels between Pompeo's talk of a coalition and President George W. Bush's "coalition of the willing" against Iraq in 2003, which Germany and France opposed.

German Foreign Ministry spokesman Christofer Burger said his country had "taken note via the media" of Pompeo's comments and that Germany's "top aim is and remains a de-escalation of the serious situation."

On Monday, Trump tweeted that China and Japan depend on the security of the Persian Gulf waterways for the bulk of their oil imports, and he asked why the U.S. is protecting the shipping lanes for other countries "for zero compensation."

"All of these countries should be protecting their own ships on what has always been a dangerous journey." He said the U.S. doesn't "even need to be there" because it produces much of its own energy needs.

Brian Hook, the U.S. special envoy for Iran, said one option could be to "enhance" an existing multinational maritime force of about 30 countries that currently fights drug and arms smuggling in the region.

Alternatively, he said allied nations with commercial interests in the oil-rich region could launch an all-new maritime security initiative.

Another option could be military ships patrolling the Gulf waters and equipped with surveillance equipment to keep watch on Iran.

The narrow Strait of Hormuz, which lies between Iran and Oman and opens to the Persian Gulf, is paramount for Asian oil importers. An estimated 18 million to 20 million barrels of oil — much of it crude — pass through the strait every day.

The U.S. Navy, which has its 5th Fleet based in Bahrain to protect the strait, escorted oil tankers to ensure American energy supplies in the 1980s when Iran and Iraq were targeting each other's exports, but the U.S. is no longer as reliant on Arabian producers.

Today, any conflict that threatens tankers would badly disrupt crude supplies for energy-hungry countries like China, Japan, South Korea, Singapore and Indonesia, which are among the top five importers of Arabian oil.

After his meetings in Saudi Arabia with King Salman and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, Pompeo tweeted that he had a "productive meeting" with the monarch and discussed "heightened tensions in the region and the need to promote maritime security" in the Strait of Hormuz.

Pompeo then traveled to neighboring Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates, another close U.S. ally.

The regional stops may be aimed at reassuring Washington's Sunni Gulf Arab allies that the White House remains committed to keeping pressure on Shiite Iran following Trump's decision against retaliation, which likely raised questions about U.S. willingness to use force against the Islamic Republic. On a visit to Israel on Sunday, U.S. National Security Adviser John Bolton, also considered a U.S. hard-liner, said Iran should not "mistake U.S. prudence and discretion for weakness."

Iran's naval commander, Rear Adm. Hossein Khanzadi, declared that Tehran is capable of shooting down other American spy drones that violate its airspace, saying "the crushing response can always be repeated." He spoke during a meeting of defense officials in Iran.

Trump has wavered between bellicose language and actions toward Iran and a more accommodating tone, including an offer for negotiations. Iran has said it is not interested in a dialogue with Trump.

Saudi Arabia and the U.S. accused Iran of being behind attacks on tankers near the Persian Gulf in recent weeks, while the UAE has been urging diplomacy to avert a wider conflict.

On the eve of Pompeo's visit to the kingdom, Yemen's Iranian-allied rebels attacked a Saudi airport near the Saudi-Yemen border, killing a Syrian resident and wounding 21 other civilians, the Saudi military said.

The Houthi rebels claimed they used bomb-laden drones to attack the Abha airport, the second in less than two weeks. Drones were also used against a Saudi oil pipeline last month.

In a statement, Pompeo condemned the Abha airport attack and said the war in Yemen is not an isolated conflict. He accused Iran of funneling cash, weapons, and armed support to the Houthis, which Iran denies.

Saudi Arabia has been at war with the rebel Houthis in Yemen for more than four years. The Houthis say the attacks are a response to relentless Saudi airstrikes on Yemen that have killed thousands.

___

Associated Press writers Jon Gambrell in Dubai; Nasser Karimi in Tehran, Iran; Geir Moulson in Berlin; and Darlene Superville in Washington contributed.

[justsimplylovely]

The United States launched cyber attacks against Iranian missile control systems and a spy network after Tehran downed an American surveillance drone, according to US media reports. US president Donald Trump secretly authorized US Cyber Command to carry out a retaliatory attack on Iran, The Washington Post reported Saturday, shortly after the US president pledged to hit the Islamic republic with major new sanctions. The attack crippled computers used to control rocket and missile launches, according to the Post, while Yahoo News said a spying group responsible for tracking ships in the Gulf was also targeted. Tehran is yet to react to the reports, Iran's Fars news agency said Sunday. It added that it was "still not clear whether the attacks were effective or not," and suggested the US media reports were a "bluff meant to affect public opinion and regain lost reputation for the White House" following the downing of its drone. Mr Trump called off a planned retaliatory military strike Friday, saying the response wouldn't be "proportionate", with Tehran warning Washington that any attack would see its interests across the Middle East go up in flames. On Sunday US National Security Adviser John Bolton warned Tehran against misinterpreting the last-minute cancellation. "Neither Iran nor any other hostile actor should mistake US prudence and discretion for weakness," he said ahead of a meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Jerusalem. At a glance | Key players in Tehran The downing of the US drone came after a series of attacks on tankers in the congested shipping lanes of the Gulf, that Washington has blamed on Iran, exacerbated already-tense relations between the two countries. Iran has denied responsibility for those attacks. Mr Trump, who spent Saturday huddling with his advisors at Camp David, initially told reporters that he was keen to be Iran's "best friend" - if the country agreed to renounce nuclear weapons. "When they agree to that, they're going to have a wealthy country. They're going to be so happy, and I'm going to be their best friend," he told reporters. Iran has denied seeking a nuclear weapon, and says its program is for civilian purposes. A multinational accord reached by Tehran and world powers in 2015 sought to curb Iran's nuclear ambitions in exchange for sanctions relief. But Trump left that agreement more than a year ago and has imposed a robust slate of punitive economic sanctions designed to choke off Iranian oil sales and cripple its economy - one he now plans to expand. "We are putting major additional Sanctions on Iran on Monday," tweeted Mr Trump, who has also deployed additional troops to the Middle East. "I look forward to the day that Sanctions come off Iran, and they become a productive and prosperous nation again - The sooner the better!" Iran’s ballistic missile range Secretary of State Mike Pompeo added: "When the Iranian regime decides to forgo violence and meet our diplomacy with diplomacy, it knows how to reach us. Until then, our diplomatic isolation and economic pressure campaign against the regime will intensify." But lest anyone think he was entirely ruling out military action, Trump tweeted Saturday evening that "I never called the strike against Iran 'BACK,' as people are incorrectly reporting, I just stopped it from going forward at this time!" A top Iranian military official warned Washington against any strikes. "Firing one bullet towards Iran will set fire to the interests of America and its allies" in the region, armed forces general staff spokesman Brigadier General Abolfazl Shekarchi told the Tasnim news agency. "If the enemy - especially America and its allies in the region - make the military mistake of shooting the powder keg on which America's interests lie, the region will be set on fire," Mr Shekarchi warned. Following his comments, Iran said it had executed a contractor for the defense ministry's aerospace organization who had been convicted of spying for the United States. After the downing Thursday of the Global Hawk surveillance aircraft, Trump said the United States had been "cocked & loaded" to strike Iran. Tehran insists that the drone violated its airspace - something Washington denies - but a commander of the elite Revolutionary Guards, Brigadier General Amir Ali Hajizadeh, told state news agency IRNA that the violation could have been an accident. "Nonetheless, this was an act of trampling international aviation laws by a spy aircraft," Mr Hajizadeh added. The Pentagon released a map of the drone's flight path, indicating it avoided Iranian waters, but Iranian Foreign Minister Mohammad Javad Zarif on Saturday published maps showing the aircraft inside Iranian territory. "There can be no doubt about where the vessel was when it was brought down," he wrote on Twitter. The US Federal Aviation Administration has barred American civilian aircraft from the area "until further notice," and several major non-US airlines were altering flight paths to avoid the sensitive Strait of Hormuz.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://yhoo.it/2J2DwLg

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The United States launched cyber attacks against Iranian missile control systems and a spy network after Tehran downed an American surveillance drone, according to US media reports. US president Donald Trump secretly authorized US Cyber Command to carry out a retaliatory attack on Iran, The Washington Post reported Saturday, shortly after the US president pledged to hit the Islamic republic with major new sanctions. The attack crippled computers used to control rocket and missile launches, according to the Post, while Yahoo News said a spying group responsible for tracking ships in the Gulf was also targeted. Tehran is yet to react to the reports, Iran's Fars news agency said Sunday. It added that it was "still not clear whether the attacks were effective or not," and suggested the US media reports were a "bluff meant to affect public opinion and regain lost reputation for the White House" following the downing of its drone. Mr Trump called off a planned retaliatory military strike Friday, saying the response wouldn't be "proportionate", with Tehran warning Washington that any attack would see its interests across the Middle East go up in flames. On Sunday US National Security Adviser John Bolton warned Tehran against misinterpreting the last-minute cancellation. "Neither Iran nor any other hostile actor should mistake US prudence and discretion for weakness," he said ahead of a meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Jerusalem. At a glance | Key players in Tehran The downing of the US drone came after a series of attacks on tankers in the congested shipping lanes of the Gulf, that Washington has blamed on Iran, exacerbated already-tense relations between the two countries. Iran has denied responsibility for those attacks. Mr Trump, who spent Saturday huddling with his advisors at Camp David, initially told reporters that he was keen to be Iran's "best friend" - if the country agreed to renounce nuclear weapons. "When they agree to that, they're going to have a wealthy country. They're going to be so happy, and I'm going to be their best friend," he told reporters. Iran has denied seeking a nuclear weapon, and says its program is for civilian purposes. A multinational accord reached by Tehran and world powers in 2015 sought to curb Iran's nuclear ambitions in exchange for sanctions relief. But Trump left that agreement more than a year ago and has imposed a robust slate of punitive economic sanctions designed to choke off Iranian oil sales and cripple its economy - one he now plans to expand. "We are putting major additional Sanctions on Iran on Monday," tweeted Mr Trump, who has also deployed additional troops to the Middle East. "I look forward to the day that Sanctions come off Iran, and they become a productive and prosperous nation again - The sooner the better!" Iran’s ballistic missile range Secretary of State Mike Pompeo added: "When the Iranian regime decides to forgo violence and meet our diplomacy with diplomacy, it knows how to reach us. Until then, our diplomatic isolation and economic pressure campaign against the regime will intensify." But lest anyone think he was entirely ruling out military action, Trump tweeted Saturday evening that "I never called the strike against Iran 'BACK,' as people are incorrectly reporting, I just stopped it from going forward at this time!" A top Iranian military official warned Washington against any strikes. "Firing one bullet towards Iran will set fire to the interests of America and its allies" in the region, armed forces general staff spokesman Brigadier General Abolfazl Shekarchi told the Tasnim news agency. "If the enemy - especially America and its allies in the region - make the military mistake of shooting the powder keg on which America's interests lie, the region will be set on fire," Mr Shekarchi warned. Following his comments, Iran said it had executed a contractor for the defense ministry's aerospace organization who had been convicted of spying for the United States. After the downing Thursday of the Global Hawk surveillance aircraft, Trump said the United States had been "cocked & loaded" to strike Iran. Tehran insists that the drone violated its airspace - something Washington denies - but a commander of the elite Revolutionary Guards, Brigadier General Amir Ali Hajizadeh, told state news agency IRNA that the violation could have been an accident. "Nonetheless, this was an act of trampling international aviation laws by a spy aircraft," Mr Hajizadeh added. The Pentagon released a map of the drone's flight path, indicating it avoided Iranian waters, but Iranian Foreign Minister Mohammad Javad Zarif on Saturday published maps showing the aircraft inside Iranian territory. "There can be no doubt about where the vessel was when it was brought down," he wrote on Twitter. The US Federal Aviation Administration has barred American civilian aircraft from the area "until further notice," and several major non-US airlines were altering flight paths to avoid the sensitive Strait of Hormuz.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://yhoo.it/2J2DwLg