#inertial compensator

[sw5w]

Plunging into the Lower Levels of Coruscant

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:16:50

[scoobyrooster1]

She's Mine [Part 3]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: As Qimir’s newly sworn acolyte, you were supposed to be learning the ways of your master, far from prying eyes. But in a desperate attempt to escape the Jedi and Republic Space, you find yourself entangled in the dangerous mission of a mercenary crew. A hyperdrive malfunction forces the crew to land on a remote planet for repairs, leaving you stuck in the middle of a perilous scramble. With time running out and the mission to Canto Bight hanging in the balance, your loyalties—and your survival—are about to be tested like never before. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence, trigger warning!sexual harassment, very protective Qimir Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] 

She's Mine [Part 1] 

She's Mine [Part 2] 

She's Mine [Part 2.2]

-----------------------------------------------------

To your surprise, the ship actually made it to the small green planet in one piece. The journey had taken far longer than usual without the hyperdrive, but you were just grateful that the systems needed to fly the damn thing were still online. Otherwise, you'd have been left drifting in space, dead stick and helpless.

All of this meant more time in republic space with an item that people would kill for.

Great.

Looking to distract yourself from the unsettling dream that had left an insatiable itch in the back of your brain, you'd jumped into the engine compartment. The walls were lined with a maze of conduits and cables, all neatly bundled but seemingly endless, carrying power and data to every part of the ship. Scanning the machinery around you, all the correct lights were on and flashing. You flipped a few switches, listening to the ship’s steady hum in response. Your eyes fell to the compensator gauge... right there. You loosened a few bolts and opened the compartment, removing a singed piece. Shit. It was fried.

"Its the inertial dampener." You yelled up. "We're lucky we weren't blown half way to hell."

It was true. You all were very lucky.

Ians eyebrows plucked up.

You continued. "If we don't replace this servo." You waved the piece in the air. "Then it'll be our last hyperspace jump ever."

"Whatsssss a ssservo?" Kiro inquired.

"A servomotor?...its a part of the stabilizer... the stabilizer controls temporal displacement."

Kiro only stared at you. Nothing occurring in those reptilian eyes.

"The stabilizer is built into the dampener and turns the time it would normally take us to travel from point A to point B into what seems like an instant to us."

Still more silence. Shaun and Kiro just looked at eachother.

"So, what exactly do you two do again?" You questioned.

Ian practically burst out laughing. Kiro and Shaun exchanged amused glances.

"Kiro here," Ian began, "is my muscle. He goes where I go. And well, Shaun keeps an eye from above."

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to process the words. "Right... So you two were what—knitting while I was getting my ass beat by a Twi'lek?"

Ian’s face turned a violent shade of purple, laughing even harder. He wiped tears from his eyes, finally catching his breath and returning to grabbing his small satchel. "Thanks to them, the other thugs were intercepted."

"Other thugs?" you mumbled, confused.

Ian nodded, still chuckling. "Rod noted the guy that walked up to you, and there were others. We took care of it. Well, minus the Twi'lek... she actually knew what she was doing."

"And you forgot to mention all this?" you asked, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Hey, it didn’t seem pertinent at the time..., we’d all had one hell of a day."

"Right," you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

Ian just blinked and continued gathering his things. "So you know your way around a starship... luckily I know a guy who might have what we need just a few clicks from here. Kiro lets go."

"An inertial dampener isn't an easy fix."

"I know sweetheart... thats why were here."

"Where are you gonna find another servomotor."

You were met with silence and the opening of blast doors. Not paying you anymore mind, Ian treaded down, Kiro and Shaun trailing behind him.

You only sighed leaning against the circuits. Contemplating your next move. You had left your master errily sleeping on his cot. He was most likely still down and you would do anything to avoid any conversation... especially after that dream.

You hoisted yourself up and out of the engine compartment.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Ian eyes tracked you wandering behind them.

"You tagging along or something?"

You looked in the general direction of the ship. You almost expected Qimir to be there standing on the ramp. You could swear you sensed his presence or at least his shadow.

"I need some fresh air. And I don't trust you enough to not screw this up."

He shrugged. "The more the merrier I guess."

As you walked through the grassy horticultural fields of maker knows where, you swatted at the gnats buzzing near your face. The sky was darkening, and you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being too far from the ship. You eventually reached the edge of town, being far more urbanized than you expected.

"This way."

Ian led you to a small hut along the bustling main street, its exterior cluttered with old droids and rusted ship parts haphazardly strewn about. You could only hope that somewhere inside was the part you needed to fix the dampener.

A Quarren male stood behind the desk cluttered with tools and machine parts.

"Ian." He drawled through his beak like mouth.

"Heelim... my good friend."

"What trouble have you brought to my doorstep this time."

Ian only smiled in response.

----------

"An inertial dampener? Thats not an easy fix."

You gave Ian a look. He was obviously ignoring whatever I told you so face you were serving him.

"But if theres anyone who would have the part I know it'd be you."

"So. You just thought I'd have a servo lying around here?

"To be honest you were the closest option."

He chuckled in response.

"I am sorry my friend but I have no servos matching the one to your specific freighter."

Ian only bit his tongue and slapped Heelims arm in response.

"Thats quite alright. We'll figure it out my friend."

"Well if you need anything else feel free to look around."

Shaun had wandered outside already. Kiro tapped the machinery next to him with his claw, creating a sharp clang that rang through the store.

You toggled with some of merhandise around you, none of which could replace a servo.

"You work for Ian?" The Quarren questioned you.

"I owe him."

"Ahhhhhh... unfortunate."

You chuckled in response, looking around you realized you were the only one left in the store as Ian turned his heal.

"Thank you for your help."

The Quarren nodded his head.

-------

You found the three of them standing in a circle, deep in debate over your dwindling options.

Stepping up, you interjected, “So, he doesn’t have one. Maybe someone else does.” You tried to keep your tone hopeful, though you knew the answer.

“There aren’t any other sssellers who’ll have what he doesssn't," Kiro replied, his voice a cold hiss. "Heelim is the bessst.”

Ian shrugged, eyes on the ground but clearly working something out in his head. “Who said anything about buying one?”

You cut in quickly, already guessing where Ian was headed. “I saw a blue A-23 freighter in the yard. If I remember right, it should have similar parts to your ship.”

Without waiting for a response, you rushed back inside the shop.

“Do you know the owner of that light blue A-23 freighter outside?” you asked the shopkeeper.

He gave you a suspicious look, eyes narrowing, knowing exactly why you seeked the information.

You sighed, frustration creeping in. “Please.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you. Ten long seconds. You seized on whatever flicker of empathy might have passed across his face.

Finally, he relented. “That ship belongs to Laro Kiggs. He frequents the bar down the street. You never heard this from me”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, turning to leave.

Before you could make it out the door, his voice stopped you. “Traveling with Ian makes unsuspecting people accustomed to looking over their shoulders... but I see that’s already second nature to you.”

His words caught you off guard, hitting closer to home than you expected.

“I’ve had to be," you admitted quietly.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Finding real safety, real solace, in this system or the next... it's a rare gift. But it exists. I was lucky enough to find it. Understand—it’s out there."

You smiled faintly, understanding what he was implying and stepped out into the street.

-------

You rushed back outside, catching them mid-conversation.

Kiro hissed, “Getting onto a freighter here is easssssy enough.”

“I found the owner,” you interrupted, catching their attention. “He should be at the bar tonight.”

Ian finally looked up. “Alright. Shaun, you and y/n will keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t leave the bar. Kiro and I will handle the ship. I’ll signal Rod to expect another half-hour delay.”

Shaun frowned. “Are you sure about this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Ian shot back. “The nearest planet’s days away without a working dampener, and our buyer’s going to be on Corinth wondering where his precious book is.”

------------

Ian and Kiro took a speeder to the parked ships on the outskirts of the town. Ian would board the ship while Kiro stood guard and hopefully return with the servomotor you needed. You and Shaun stationed yourself at the local tavern.

The bar had a certain allure to it, bathed in warm, low lighting and filled with the sound of glasses clinking and conversations blending into a constant buzz. Then again it wasn't any different than any other bar in the galaxy.

You leaned over the bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention.

“Heyyy, I scratched a really nice blue freighter yesterday—parked by the market. Any chance you know the owner? I feel awful about it.”

The bartender didn’t even glance up. “Laro Kiggs. He’s right over there with his buddies. Black jacket.”

You followed his gaze and spotted him.

The bartender leaned in, giving you a knowing look. “If he hasn’t noticed yet, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Thanks a ton,” you replied, voice sugary sweet, but entirely fake.

Walking back to Shaun, you whispered discreetly, “Black jacket, at your 12 o’clock.”

Shaun nodded.

It had only been three minutes since Ian entered the ship when his voice crackled through your coms.

It’s locked.

“What?” You struggled to keep a straight face.

It’s fucking locked. The compartment’s locked.

“Shit.”

Yeah. Shit, Ian echoed, static in the background. Who the hell locks their hyperdrive compartment?

“Maybe someone who doesn’t want their shit stolen by criminals?” you shot back, trying to think fast.

The window was closing, and you had to act quickly.

“Okay… Plan B. Ian, stand by.”

You noticed Shaun standing up, heading directly toward Laro. Instinct kicked in, and you blocked his path with a hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“We need that key,” he said.

“And what? You’re just going to knock him out in the middle of the bar? Start a fight and get a mob chasing Ian and Kiro?”

He stared at you, unamused. “Got a better idea?”

“Actually, yes. Grab a speeder and stand by for the key.”

He shot you an incredulous look but headed for the door without another word.

What? Ian’s voice stammered in confusion through the coms.

You closed the channel.

You chugged your drink, steeling yourself as you walked up to the man. Adjusting your blouse, you reminded yourself that you could do this.

With a confident tap on his shoulder, you leaned in. "I—oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone I was looking for."

He turned, eyes sweeping over you with a lingering gaze. "I can be."

You laughed, taking a few steps closer, playing into his interest. "Well, are you gonna buy me a drink?"

A sinister smile tugged at his lips. "Why, of course."

It didn’t take long to get him another drink deep, his inhibitions loosening with each gulp. You used the opportunity to subtly feel for any sign of the key you were after, disguising your search with drunken leans and falls against him. Your hand brushed something square in his left jacket pocket.

"You know," he whispered, leaning closer, "we could always move this to my ship for more privacy." His hand slid across your thigh, the gesture bold and invasive.

You forced a playful smile, letting your right hand toy with his hair while your left hand moved towards his torso. He was too focused on your touch to notice your fingers slipping into his jacket pocket. You felt the cold metal of the key and smoothly withdrew it.

Too easy.

But before you could pull away, his hand moved higher up your thigh, edging dangerously close to your belt.

He went on. "Its only a few clicks away... if we are indeed two ships just passing in the night."

Before you could react, someone snatched your glass from the table.

It was Qimir.

Without a word, he downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, his eyes fixed on you.

"Looks like your drink's run out," he said coolly. "Let's get you another."

The guy beside you grumbled, glaring at Qimir. "Hey buddy, we were talking."

Qimir's eyes flicked to him, full of indifference. "And now you're done talking." He slammed the glass on the table. His voice was low, but it was enough to silence the man.

Qimir pulled you away, leading you toward another section of the bar.

You yanked your arm free and made a beeline for the exit.

Shaun waited on a speeder outside. You shoved the key into his hand beckoning him to get to Ian as quickly as possible.

"Here. Get this to Ian. We'll meet you back at the ship."

Shaun only nodded and revved the speeder, disappearing into the night.

Qimir had caught up to you outside.

Turning to face him your mouth ran away from you.

"What the hell was that?" you snapped.

"You were obviously uncomfortable," Qimir replied, not bothering to look at you.

You crossed your arms, huffing. "I can handle myself."

"He's a creep."

"So are most of the men in there," you shot back, shrugging off the situation.

Here’s a refined version of your scene, enhancing the emotional intensity and flow:

“This is exactly what I said would happen,” Qimir stated, his tone clipped.

“And how’s that exactly?” you shot back.

“You getting yourself into something I have to pull you out of.”

Fury surged through you, and you slammed your fists down, your face flushing with rage. “Don’t make excuses. I never asked to be pulled out of anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, next time a guy grabs my ass and I need your help, I’ll be sure to let you know first, Master.”

Qimir’s jaw tightened, clearly taken aback by your words.

You yelled, “If you had pulled me away just seconds earlier, you would have messed everything up!” Your body surged forward, hands outstretched.

In a burst of anger, you shoved him.

You actually shoved him.

He took it, standing firm, still caught up in whatever wave of misplaced duty he felt. His patronizing gaze made you want to slap him.

Screw this, you thought.

Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe you just needed more of it.

You stomped back inside waving your hand at the bartender. "One flameout please."

Your eyes scanned the bar for Laro making sure he was staying put. There he was already looking you up and down from a distance. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the bar.

The bartender caught your signal for another drink sliding a small shot of red liquid down the bar towards you. You gulped it down, throwing a few credits on the table. You could only hope that Ian had grabbed the servo by now and had gotten the hell out of there. But before you could enjoy the moment of solitude, Kiggs approached again, his drunken friends laughing and egging him on from a distance.

"Let’s pick up where we left off," he slurred.

"Let’s not," you replied flatly.

"C’mon, not interested anymore, I’m a great dancing partner," he said, stepping closer, his breath a noxious mix of alcohol and something far worse.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. His hands wandered, groping you in a way that made your skin crawl.

You shoved him hard... far harder than you had shoved Qimir earlier. The force of it sent him stumbling backward a few feet. But it only seemed to make him angrier. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he started to march toward you again.

Good.

You could use a fight to blow off some steam. You readied your hands to connect with his jaw, eager to pop a crack at this entitled prick.

Before you could react, Qimir appeared in front of you, faster than you’d ever seen him move. His arm shot out, his hand wrapping around the man’s throat with terrifying ease. The man gasped, his hands clawing at Qimir’s grip, but he was choking on more than just the pressure of Qimir’s hand—there was something more. The air seemed to be ripped from his lungs, as though Qimir was suffocating him without effort. Laro’s friends were all drunk, but not quite enough to miss the warning signs. They kept a safe distance, clearly sensing that Qimir wasn’t the type to be messed with.

Qimir leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, but you were close enough to hear. "You touch her again and I'll kill you."

He released the man, who dropped to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. Qimir didn’t spare him another glance, turning to face you, his eyes unreadable.

You stared at him, still catching your breath from the sudden surge of adrenaline.

"Unbelievable." You stormed past him exiting the bar speaking into your coms. "Ian you might wanna put a rush on that servo."

The bar around you seemed distant now, the noise fading into the background as you focused on the path ahead. The liquor warmed your skin making the cold air unnoticeable.

For a moment, you wanted to argue—wanted to tell him you didn’t need his protection. But the way he had reacted, the intensity in his eyes, told you something different. Something deeper.

You had made it back to the ship.

You walked into your room. He followed.

You paced around until you stopped to look at him.

He was... withholding himself.

"I need you to give me a reason" He said softly.

"What?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back there and put a hole through his skull."

You closed the distance between you, your face inches from his. "Because if anyone has the right to, it’s me... yet here I am." you almost spat the words at him.

His eyebrows, once furrowed in anger, relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied with your reason. But tension still radiated from him, his eyes blinking rapidly, betraying whatever calm facade he wished to portray.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you falter, but you gathered your resolve, summoning the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Why did you do that?” you demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“What?” he replied, feigning ignorance.

“Back at the bar. Why did you do that?”

“What are you talking about, y/n?”

You scoffed, disbelief washing over you. You were damned if you’d ever get a straight answer from him.

“Forget it... you should have just stayed at the ship.”

“That guy was harassing you,” he insisted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to threaten people.”

“I have a responsibility to you. You are my acolyte.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make me yours,” you emphasized, each syllable sharp.

He went still, as if the weight of your words hit him. But the understanding in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had come.

“You’re drunk,” he said, turning away to focus on the clutter around his cot.

“You would know,” you shot back, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I guess we both do stupid shit when we’re drunk.”

He spun around, eyes narrowed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone turned venomous, defensive.

“You know exactly what it means,” you bit back, refusing to back down.

Suddenly you heard the blast doors open and close.

"Time to go." Ian barely managed the words as he ran through the hallway passing your room.

You broke away from Qimirs space. Rushing after Ian.

"So I'm guessing Laro made it back to his ship."

"Yep." Was all that Ian revealed.

You caught up to him snatching the servo out of his hand.

"Get to the cockpit. Get us in the air. Rod and I will handle the drive."

Ian didn't have time to argue.

You got to the engine compartment to find Rod already prepping.

Jumping down, you almost landed on your arse.

Damn those drinks.

The ship started humming and rattling as you guessed you were now in the upper atmosphere.

You took the piece and fitted it to the stabilizer grabbing the wrench to bolt everything back in place.

"That damned thing better work." Ian yelled.

You secured the servo and closed the dampener.

"Punch it." You spoke through the coms.

You felt your hair rise as the hyperdrive kicked then lit up. A small energy surge knocked you back. A loud vroom sounded in your ears as you slouched against the wall.

You took another deep breath, steadying yourself and closing your eyes.

You were in hyperspace... safe. At least for now.

-----------------------------

Thats all folks! Let me know in the comments what you guys think! The next few chapters are going to get intense :)

[jpitha]

Drives like Crazy

So, humans have this thing where they underestimate risks that are long term, and overestimate risks that are short term. Since we come from such a dangerous world, it kind of makes sense. In the deep recesses of the past, if you were overly wary about that bear over there, you were more likely to survive. But eating healthy all life long to avoid heart disease? That's a problem for Tomorrow Me.

It could be that Xenos that come from less dangerous words have a different view of risk than we do, and would be... concerned by the things that we do all the time because we underestimate their risk.

****

"Set helm to manual, I have control." Jesse's voice was smooth and confident as she sat forward in the leatherette upholstered seat on the command deck. A joystick and a panel with buttons rose out of the floor as foot pedals rose up to meet her booted feet.

"Captain, I would like to register a concern." Unity said. They were the transport freighter that Jesse was now controlling, and they were clearly against this.

"Your concern is registered and noted" Jessie didn't stop setting up the controls. "But as you are aware, manual controls must be tested and verified working quarterly."

Mer'ally, the chief engineer, and unofficial voice of the K'laxi crew onboard Unity turned from her station and looked at Jesse. "I mean, Unity has a point. While we do have to test the manual control system, we don't have to test it while coming to dock at Hyacinth during one of the busiest times of the year."

Jesse's smile was thin and strained. "Once again, your concern has been noted." Jesse's eyes flicked up to the K'laxi staring at her. Mer'ally was unusually tall for a K'laxi, she was nearly Jesse's height. Her reddish orange fur complimented her large green eyes. With her large expressive ears flicking as she spoke her worries, Jesse couldn't help wonder why she was so distracted by her. She shook her head slightly. "Regardless. We have to test manual controls, and I want to practice docking with Hyacinth. We need to know how to pilot Unity in all situations, including docking."

Unity sighed. They weren't going to be able to talk her out of this. "As you wish, Captain, relinquishing control."

Jesse harumphed and got back to work. She ran the joystick in all directions, and everyone felt the ship wiggle in response. With a satisfied nod, Jesse adjusted the inertial compensators down a touch. She wanted to be able to feel the ship move, but not enough to get people motion sick. She nodded in satisfaction and looked up at the other people with her.

"Yen. Please request docking with Hyacinth."

"Aye Captain." Yen bustled at her station. Jesse wondered how she lucked out that all the officers on the command deck today were women, and once again had to push that thought out of her mind. She was on duty now.

After a moment Yen called out. "Docking approved. We're clear to dock on the lower ring, bay 33."

"Bay 33 aye." Jesse punched in the location on her control screen, and her vision was overlayed with the best path to the dock. She'll have to match rotation with Hyacinth, but since it's so large, they shouldn't have to go too fast. She goosed the thrusters and Unity started moving forward.

As they trundled towards bay 33, Jesse put Unity's controls through their paces. She gently rolled the ship to make sure the maneuvering thrusters worked correctly, she tumbled it end-over-end and she yawed it in place all the way around. It was actually a lot of fun. She could imagine the looks the other ships gave as Unity spun and pirouetted in place as it moved slowly towards their docking bay, but Jesse didn't care. Maybe she wanted to show off.

As the last maneuver finished, Jesse spun Unity such that with a few puffs from the main drive they'd match rotation with Hyacinth and being docking. Right before she fired the main drive, her console squawked.

"Collision imminent! Collision imminent! CHANGE DIRECTION NOW"

"What?" Jesse pulled hard on the joystick, and the front thrusters fired, sending the noise high while also stopping their forward momentum. With the compensators set low, everyone lurched forward in their seats. In the distance, Jesse heard a crash as something tipped over.

Unity called out. "Captain! There's a Starjumper that's thrusting away from Hyacinth without getting departure permission. Hyacinth is firing on it, and it's coming this way!"

"Why would they be shooting at a Starjumper?" Mer'ally's tail flicked. "Did they skip out on their docking fee?"

"Doesn't matter why right now." Yen didn't move her head from her console. "Comms are screaming with people yelling at them. They're not responding to anyone. They're on the run."

Jesse's screen was filled with the sight of one of the gigantic old interstellar starships bearing down on them. Orange lights of the tracers from the slug launchers oh Hyacinth were zipping past them. She felt ice in her veins as she realized that the Starjumper was going to hit them unless she did something drastic. An instant later, the collision alarm screamed loud again in the ship.

Jesse toggled ship-wide comms. "Juke charges! Brace for shock!" She fired the juke charges; small emergency explosives fired out of Unity and immediately exploded with their characteristic double boom. The area around the juke charge launchers were reinforced and bowl shaped to catch as much of the energy from the explosion as possible. The blast pushed the ship away with a lurch just as the Starjumper and slugs from Hyacinth passed where they were not a second ago.

"Hold tight everyone, I'm going get us away from here" Jesse's hands and feet danced over the panel as she increased power and started to thrust away. With the compensators still turned down, everyone felt the sickening drop as Unity dove and spun and turned as they were trying to get away from the attack.

"Jesse! You're too close to that ship!" Unity didn't even bother to call her Captain. Jesse saw the ship that Unity mentioned almost too late. She came hard on the portside thrusters and everyone held their breath as they glided by the ship.

"You were close enough to scorch their paint Jes-Captain." Mer'ally sighed in relief and grinned.

"The important thing is we missed, Mer." Jesse looked up and flashed a smile and a wink. Mer'ally quickly turned back to her station, but not before a ripple of fur went down her body, a K'laxi blush.

Unity sounded testy. "Captain. The danger has passed and you have more than proven your piloting ability as well as the function of the manual controls. Can I please have the helm?"

Jesse leaned back from her station and stretched. She was concentrating so hard it felt like no time at all had passed. "All right Unity. I release the helm. You have control."

"Aye Captain. Resuming docking with Hyacinth."

Now all Jesse had to do was wait for docking to complete and stress about whether she could ask Mer'ally out on a date. Unity was a civilian ship and they all worked for Houndstooth, one of the major Sol based corporations, so it wasn't like they had to worry about a higher ranked officer hitting on a lower ranked one, but Jesse still worried. She might say no. It was going to be a long wait to dock.

[mel-et-ses-histoires]

Pour le déficit de médecins il y a non seulement le fait qu'ils n'aient pas formé assez de médecins pour compenser les départs en retraite mais aussi que beaucoup de jeunes médecins sont à temps partiel (même si ça n'est parfois qu'une journée de pause par semaine ça fait des patients en moins).

Dans le cabinet médical où je vais, les 4 médecins généralistes partis en retraite ont la chance d'avoir trouvé des "successeurs" mais tous sont à mi-temps. Résultat ça revient à avoir pris 2 médecins à temps complet...

Ce n'est pas une critique, juste que les jeunes médecins n'ont pas envie du même rythme que leurs aînés. Mais c'est très rarement évoqué dans les causes de la pénurie... Et pas sûr qu'augmenter le numerus clausus suffise à compenser tout ça!!

Hello!

Alors tout à fait, pendant longtemps le nombre de médecins qui sortaient de l'école était inferieure au nombre de médecins qui partaient en retraite. Faire varier le numerus closus ça marche mais il y aura toujours une inertie de 10 ans.

Pour les jeunes médecins je ne sais pas si "beaucoup" sont en temps partiels (quand on regarde les stats sur les internes et les jeunes médecins on est plutôt sur du dépassement des horaires max de 48h/sem.

Mais par contre oui c'est très très très vrai que les jeunes médecins sont beaucoup plus attentifs à leurs conditions de vie, et c'est très bien ! Le discours "oui mais moi de mon temps blablabla" on l'entend encore beaucoup de la part de médecins "plus anciens" qui acceptent de faire des choses qui ne le sont pas par la "jeune génération" comme travailler jusqu'à 80h par semaine ou des trucs pas légaux comme ne pas prendre les repos de garde.

Donc du coup se dire "oui mais en fait j'ai aussi une vie en plus du travail" ben moi ça me parait assez normal. Les médecins généralistes se font arnaquer par la sécu pour ce qui est du tarif des consultations, à l'hopital on travaille avec du matos des années 60 donc heureusement que les jeunes se protègent.

[musing-lego-piece]

An Unfortunate Casino Job

@tapalslegacy

This is just another side gig, Silone told herself as she plucked the assignment chip from the broker. Just a way to get enough scrap to fix her ship. It’s difficult to do intergalactic merc jobs when your ships inertial compensator is cracked. Going past cruising speed sends the damn clunker into low power mode. Sil shouldn’t have gotten the ship anyways, it was a ruddy, cramped republic-era cruiser she’d gotten from a scrapyard. Giving it a name would be giving the thing too much credit. 

The job was local, with minimal danger on her end. The credit reward was arguably higher than it should be, but Sil had met her fair share of clients that would pay extra for discretion. Inserting the chip into her holopad, the details expanded in front of her. Go undercover, meet with an informant, drop the datachip at a drop site across town. Simple enough. Discretion was key, the brief mentioned this fact a total of eight times. 

Two days after accepting the gig, she’d been sent a dropbox with a uniform, and a name badge. Last, an employee chip, with instructions on how to inject it into the muscle of her palm. In most cases, this would be a limit for Sil. Even if it was ‘standard for the company’, and ‘has no combustible materials’, it just didn’t seem right. But the clunker needed its damn part, so she grits her teeth and injects the chip. The uniform was made of finer fabrics than she’d ever graced her frame with, such a shame the instructions called for her to burn it once the gig was complete. 

The day of the exchange, Silone waited three mind-numbing hours by the entrance door of Club Vertica, keeping a mental list of everyone who had entered and exited the exclusive casino. The modest uniform and visor that covered the upper half of her face didn’t keep belligerent patrons from offering their hotel room keys to her. 

“Still no sight of the target.” She mumbles under her breath, scanning the club once more. A Besalisk man bangs his fists against the Emperor’s Grace slot machine as it gives him another monotone ‘Better Luck Next Time!’ screen. The Hutt statue waves like a lucky cat figure, the same cold grin marking its features. Sil was struggling to keep her ears open for important conversations, deep bass notes and fluty vocals from the nearby speakers kept her on alert. 

Tan hood, blue pin on the side of his head. Easy enough, surely? Sil glanced down at her chronometer, she was about to pack up and head home at this rate. Maybe the informant had been intercepted. 

Then, as if appearing out of thin air–Sil spots the informant. They’re nursing a cocktail, eyes shifty, leaning on a slot machine. How did he get in here? She didn’t see him come through the door. 

Another patron slams their fist against a sleek durasteel table, doubling their earnings of the night. Sil signals to the other bodyguard that she’s going on break, then makes her way over to the informant. 

[forcesung]

There were times when it was a wonderful thing that Han knew the Falcon as well as he did—that he knew her well enough to handle every control, every instrument even if blind or disoriented. Without taking his gaze off Alema, he reached forward and disengaged the freighter’s inertial compensator and artificial gravity generator. In the same instant he hit the thrusters and hauled back on the control yoke.

—Legacy of the Force: Fury, Aaron Allston

[commanderversio]

@arc-77

Iden thumbed the safety catch on her TIE's control column. "Inferno One, weapons hot." Moments later, Del and Hask sounded off similar confirmations.

"Three, weapons hot." "Inferno Two - weapons hot."

Iden's laser-like focus shifted to the scrolling digits of the countdown displayed on her helmet's HUD. Any lingering thoughts about the crew of the assailed Impetuous had been long since pushed from her nascent reality. She was like a gamut-runner on the starting blocks. The unrelenting whine of her idling ion engine was punctuated only by the reassuring rhythm of her life-support assisted breaths.

It had all been carefully calculated. The exact second the Corvus dropped out of hyperspace, they'd erupt from the hangar like the fires of Mustafar. Full throttle. Their TIES would be in amongst the X-Wings before the Rebels had even realised that they’d entered the system. 

Not for the first time, the Rebel Alliance was about to get a taste of its own medicine. They weren’t the only ones who had mastered guerrilla starfighter tactics. Any rebel pilot out there who thought currently otherwise was about to have a rude awakening, bathed in the righteous green-fury of Imperial laserfire.

Adiana Canton’s usually gentle voice was replaced by an authoritative bark, that if Iden hadn’t known any better, could have come from Ysanne Isard herself. “Inferno, mark.” In the same heartbeat Iden checked that the countdown digits matched Canton’s declaration and shoved the throttle levers fully forward. She was thrown back into her seat, harnesses cutting into her shoulders, as the TIE fighter shot out into the black of the void, black-wings screaming an indomitable battlecry.

Their three TIEs sailed across the hull of the stricken corvette, hurtling past the bridge, the tips of their solar arrays close enough to scratch the paintwork. Iden thumbed the weapons release on her control column, and watched dot of the concussion missile’s warhead bury itself into the S-Foil of an X-Wing, before in a flash of light, it rendered the rebel starfighter into a cloud of twisted metal.

A smile traced across her features, as she thought of the reactions of those aboard the Impetuous. She banked her TIE fighter hard to the right, feeling her suit tighten around her as its liquid compression system tried to compensate for the inertial forces. Reaching for the overhead panel, she clicked the radio to emergency frequency that the Impetuous was sure to be monitoring. “Inferno One to Impetuous, on station, for you, we’ll even waive our fee.”

[my-timing-is-digital]

Starter for @quantumstarpaths

Inertial dampeners were rendered inoperative. Life support was partially inoperative. The starboard warp nacelle had been penetrated and was rapidly being depleted of plasma as they spiralled down the planet’s atmosphere at a disconcertingly high velocity. What had commenced as a simple routine check of a nearby relay station had eventuated in a hostile confrontation — with a potentially lethal conclusion. A scout ship, emanating from the mother ship of the Emerald Chain, had attacked them out of nowhere; a chase had ensued and subsequently both vessels had tumbled into a spatial anomaly — an unstable wormhole, he surmised.

‘Attempting to compensate,’ the android shouted over the signature cacophony of a shuttlecraft being subjugated to the planet’s relentless gravitational pull, ‘rerouting auxiliary power to optimise deflector shield.’

‘Dad, they’re still gaining,’ Soji’s voice was drowned out by the occurrence of an electric discharge in the aft section of the shuttlecraft, the explosion that followed sprayed a cascade of sparks down the aisle behind them and spilled poisonous chemicals into the cockpit.

Data’s hands soared over the console, operating the holographic control panels with commendable dexterity in order to isolate the malfunction and circumvent the premature annihilation of the vessel. He was steadfast in his endeavour to preserve the integrity of the shuttlecraft long enough to witness the destruction of the scout ship prior to the inevitable decimation of their own. In addition, he ran an expeditious decontamination program to expel the toxic fumes from the vessel.

‘Doctor Culber, please administer these hyposprays to Commander Stamets and yourself,’ he said urgently as he proffered two hyposprays containing an effective medicinal compound that would prevent the disintegration of their DNA due to radioactive exposure. ‘Soji, initiate evasive manouevres. Perhaps we can discontinue their pursuit by luring them into the alpine biome below,’ he added as the shuttlecraft promptly dropped out of the thick blanket of clouds.

Evasive manouevres were challenging to initiate when the majority of the systems were offline or relayed inconclusive data and he was cognisant of that. However, it was their only opportunity to rid themselves of the aggressors and to ascertain their position in relation to the Discovery, without their efforts continuously being impeded by the enemy. It was a risky strategy; one infinitesimal miscalculation and they could end up blown to smithereens atop one of the rugged mountain ridges. However, he had faith in Soji’s scrupulous abilities as a pilot, besides, he and the others were present to correct any defects that could jeopardise the success of the opted itinerary — statistically speaking, there was a 30% probability they could survive their next course of action.

Within mere seconds, the shuttlecraft was evading mountain peaks and descended rapidly to the planet’s surface, taking advantage of the failing propulsion systems to shake off their pursuers as they navigated their way through the hazardous and untamed congregation of solid rock and serrated glaciers...

[etymologyofmind]

The Hounds of Hell

The bridge of the Vellouwyn lurched as an energy discharge off the port side collapsed a pocket of subspace into a temporary antimatter void. The implosion wasn’t close enough to significantly damage the ship, but shields and ablative plating had taken a beating during their encounters over the past week, and the ship’s energy systems were having a hard time reconciling inertial dampeners to compensate as well as they could at full capacity. Durok sneered, knowing that the attack had been intentionally off the mark, and that while they were being hounded by their pursuers, they were also being toyed with, effectively helpless to counter the assault.

All throughout the ship at floor level, vents periodically gawped open as sensors tripped their mechanisms, and stray equipment and debris from structural damage was captured by the stow-ways, dragged out of the way by R4T units hiding in their conduits to police potentially harmful stray detritus. Around him on the bridge, various crew members had donned their station restraints, giving some stability and a moderate impression of safety as the ship jostled them around, and the captain worried for them all the same; others, unable to constrain themselves to a single operational area, were unbelted and reliant on their ‘sea legs’ to keep them from careening into consoles or other equipment as they went about their work.

“Bonn! Give me a damage report update. Lieutenant Simyarn, I could really use an effective evasive pattern if you’ve come up with anything fancy, something special, perhaps away from the anti-matter weapons?” Nearby at an unmanned science station, a lighting module overloaded, showering the area in distracting, but harmless sparks. Not for the first time, Durok lamented that the Federation’s lighting modules all reacted that way to fluctuations in power systems, at an exchange for effectively cost-free lumens, as the devices were efficient enough to be powered and controlled passively without requiring connection to energy systems of any sort, cultivating their charge from ambient energy sources. Unfortunately, those sources tended to be nearby ships systems which were connected to the grid, and tactical shifts in distribution and quick cycles of energy across different conduits and grids tended to trigger sensitive receptors in the equipment to overload. Three crewmen flinched or ducked at the sudden, distracting crackle of the bursting light, and Durok wondered if it were worth the exchange.

Lieutenant Raoul Simyarn’s hands flew across the Conn panel in a feverish dance, his eyes darting around the console to gather as much information as he could while he worked. The viewscreen, which he was ignoring, showed a pair of flanking vessels, much smaller than the Vellouwyn but significantly more maneuverable and dangerously over-armed, and as Durok watched, the closer of the pair launched another emerald-hued antimatter torpedo into their trajectory. Simyarn’s palm skidded along an edge of his console, and the whole ship veered alarmingly as lagging systems tried to catch up with the barrel roll that he set her spinning into. The torpedo cruised past the ship’s underbelly, and a subscreen on the viewer popped up to track it on one of the ventral sensor arrays. The missile came dangerously close to triggering in proximity, and Durok knew that if they wanted to, their pursuers could have remote detonated the device and crippled the ship. Instead, it twinkled off into the dark of space ahead of them for a distance before detonating into another hueless antimatter void which spun reactive forces into their wake, trigging more light units to overload and sending a menacing shudder throughout the vessel.

Junior Lieutenant Hubert Bonn grabbed the back of the captain’s chair as he lurched across the deck, thrusting a Padd with the most recent systems updates into Durok’s hands. The Tellarite looked queasy and unimpressed by their circumstances, and glared at the ships on the viewscreen. “Shields are holding at 74 percent, for now, up from the mid forties last time they pinned us down, but not quite the nineties I had them to this morning. This back and forth is overloading our emitters, and the crystal projectors won’t take the strain of it without maintenance much longer: we’ll start losing peak performance and it will slide from there. Ablative shielding is good in some places, seized in others, and gone at key points. We won’t be able to recover those without spacedock, so either way we need to report in after this. Phasers are good, but targeting is off: something they’ve got keeps us from getting a solid lock, so they are better used as sweeps, and it’s not particularly helpful if we’re not committed to the act and VERY lucky. Our rail guns are still offline because their disruptors overwhelmed their magnetic control systems, and our photon torpedoes and manual warheads will still work, if we can hit someone with them. We might be better off dropping them as dark mines, but that’s a last resort, as you know, since it’s bloody illegal.”

Durok growled. The enemy had been dogged in their pursuit of the Vellouwyn for days now, appearing and disappearing at seemingly random whims, pushing the ship off course at every encounter and herding her toward unknown goals. At their second encounter they’d decided to fight back, and while the ship’s weapons had proven capable of disabling, or at least severely deterring their pursuit, the next encounter had had more ships to worry at their heels, and the attacks began to come with more frequency. Repair crews had been unable to make meaningful work of addressing the ship’s systems, as their disruptors carried feedback signals which wreaked havoc with ships systems even as the shields dispersed them, making it dangerous to work on live grids while they were under attack. Worse still, several ship’s systems were under quarantine, as the same effect had a contagious impact on the Vellouwyn’s bio-porous network, and they had been forced to slough off several clonal nodes of insulation generation membranes, and sequester others deeper within the hull where they were less likely to suffer colony destabilization.

Bonn continued to list systems of note, cycling through the tactical, into the life support and operational management systems, stopping for a colourful epithet about the inertial dampeners as Simyarn veered to avoid another attack, and then down into the power and propulsion sets. Thorough and comprehensive while being very concise, Durok was quickly up to speed with the ship’s status, and appreciated his officer’s effectiveness in crisis. The outlook was poor, but the situation wasn’t yet over with. At the end of the report, Durok thumbed the Padd in confirmation and sent Bonn back to his stations. Jamming a black-nailed thumb on the communications panel he had queued up on his armrest, Durok barked out to one side: “Petty Officer Roundhouse, have you got a course for us? We may only have one shot at this idea of yours, we need to make it count.”

Several decks away in a lab behind the deflector and sensor arrays on the belly of the Vellouwyn, a Tiburonian crewman was busily manipulating a holographic model of their current sector of space by hand. Her brow was knit in concentration, making the severe swoop of her eyebrows into her hairline more profound. In real time, tactical data feeds to her station plotted the position of two of their pursuers, the last known trajectories of the other ships which had dogged them recently where they did not match the ship signatures of those who were currently engaged, and a number of other astronomically interesting objects in the region as reference points. A Barzan ensign, Tendan Omar, worked nearby, helping to keep the link between her simulation and the various feeder systems running at peak efficiency, while a striking Kiley, Pratt Denning, was working out formulas for a chain reaction. As Durok’s voice coughed out over a hidden speaker, she frowned and kept working. “Nearly, captain. It will work. It has to. Just be ready to vent our charged warp plasma as we skim the gas giant.”

Back on the bridge, Durok nodded, knowing the motion would not translate through the coms, and tapped the signal closed with a confirmation chime. Leveraging himself out of his chair, leaving the restraint to snake back into its concealment, he strode toward the forward operations console, bracing himself on the back of his flight controller’s seat, careful not to jostle Simyarn as he focused on flying. Tapping Junior Lieutenant Sim Wu on the shoulder encouragingly, he leaned in to review the outputs of the particle systems specialist’s weapon console, nodding at the tracing algorithms he had running on the sensor readouts. The man was smart when it came to event driven programming and had produced a spectral review of their previous engagements that was currently tracking a small spike chain in energy signatures before one of the alien ships fired an antimatter weapon. “If you see your shot, take it Mister Wu.”

The Human man nodded, and Durok looked up at the viewscreen. “Sato, Jendunn, get these bastards back up on my viewscreen. I need to see if I can’t buy us some time.” Behind him at the communications station on the upper bridge, an Aenar woman’s antennae swerved slightly, while the Trillish Human beside her cast a disapproving look of acknowledgement at the back of his head, over his partner Ensign’s shoulder. The two of them had been working at parsing the sparse communication they’d received from the enemy in the past week, or intercepted in subspace traffic, and were still trying to work out if the language was based more on a computational sequence or some biological derivative. Neither of them had made as much progress as they’d have liked, but the material was sparse, and contact more aggressive than communicative. The Sato Ear for Language was legendary in Star Fleet, literally, but the attackers barely used anything that might resemble it.

A long set of moments after his order, the viewscreen changed again; the ships previously on display collapsed into a corner, where the ventral sensor overlay had appeared for the passing torpedo, and the rest was filled with an aggressive, stark, metallic figure. Repeated analysis had told them these were not Breen; study of their language told them that, despite its sound, it was not Breen language, study of their ships and tactics, while aggressive like their Alpha Quadrant comparison, suggested they were not, in fact, Breen. The thing on screen, however, looked Breen, and had the same strange droning buzz when it vocalized, setting Durok’s hair on end. It looked Breen, with the visor hued in green, although the colour and configuration of the armour was slightly different, it was very close to Breen. Durok ran his tongue over his teeth and considered his play.

“We are of Star Fleet, from the United Federation of Planets. Likely you do not know of us yet,” he began, skipping all the pleasantries. “We tried speaking with you before, as it is the way of our coalition to entreat peacefully with new met civilizations. When that failed, we defended ourselves, and rather than engage with us, you escalated.” Still receiving no response from the unemotive entity on screen, he went on. “You have plagued us for a week, and we tire of patience. You may think you have us figured out, and that you can run us down for the kill, but I assure you that is not the case. I will give you one more warning: our ship is on a mission of peace, but our kind value our lives more than we value yours. Tell us what you want and we will consider your request. Otherwise, be on your way, or face the consequences.”

For a long moment there was nothing, and then there was a blast of garbled audio signal which made several of his crew wince before the audio filters kicked in, and dimmed the noise. Behind him, Sato’s eyes went wide, and he started tapping a new set of instructions into the computer, and the chaotic static sound played again, twice more in the background on the bridge. Durok turned around to face the communications station, and Jendunn passed her hands blindly, accurately over controls to help Sato with his effort, the two muttering back and forth for a moment, before suddenly the signal was split into a half dozen audible threads overlaying the background garble of data. A deeply artificial, almost metallic synthesized voice translated several languages simultaneously into one common message: “Run. Hide. Flee. Prey.”

Durok turned around, snarling defiantly, as the figure on screen began to convulse with a new message, which the captain did not need to have translated to know for laughter. Its face disappeared from the screen, and Wu sat up at attention as the two pursuing ships returned to take up the larger viewscreen. A moment later and with a flurry of commands, a fan of lower energy phaser spread burst from the aft canons in a colourful array, and a fraction of a moment later a green hued torpedo belched from a seamless port on the lead ship’s forward hull. As it crossed the thin phaser threshold, breaking a number of the feeble streams, Wu swiped his hands across the controls and the computer recalculated the trajectory based on emitter feedback. Suddenly the streams all converged on the antimatter weapon, linking together into a bright red point which breached the device’s hull and detonated it practically within the launch tube of the pursuing ship.

The result was instantaneously catastrophic for the alien vessel, and the implosion encompassed the entire vessel in a cascade reaction, sucking the normal matter in and annihilating it to produce a pulsar-esque compressed particle stream, ripping the vessel through an event horizon and rendering it into oblivion, before the reactive shockwave blew its remaining mass into a devastating cloud of shrapnel. The second vessel was flying close enough to get caught up in the explosion, and while it was not outright destroyed, it was disabled enough to knock it out of warp, leaving it behind on long distance sensors. A number of bridge crew cheered, save Wu, who was busily harvesting additional tactical data from the successful ploy, but most knew it was, if anything, a temporary reprieve.

“Excellent technique, Mister Wu.” Durok said, patting him on the shoulder again before returning to his chair. “Raoul, get us back on the course from Astrometrics. They’ll send more dogs to hound us before we make good on any escape, so the plan still stands. We have to reach that nebula, and the system on its edge is the perfect place to try their plan. Bonn, update the repair crews on their priorities, and take only who you need: they won’t get to finish the work in all likelihood, and the crew need rest. Take volunteers after you pick the essentials, but don’t ‘motivate’ them. Work with Chief Engineer Vantel, and check in with Shurel to see if the weapon is ready.”

The Tellarite nodded and set to his work, while Chief Conn Officer Simyarn set about coordinating course updates with the astrometrics lab. Durok decided to leave the language team to pore over their new epiphanies: he’d be briefed on their findings when they were ready, and instead stood to move to the aft turbolift corridor. “Durok to Ve Sudan;” he said, waiting for the computer to acknowledge his hail. “If you’re able, come take command of the bridge. Else send Adonnas. I’m going to check on Paine.” He commanded, knowing that the second and third shift bridge officers would be relatively fresh compared to the fourth rotation, which had retired barely two hours before, mid-battle. Some of their shift’s rotations were still on station, and he knew that, were Paine Thomas at her post, they’d have been mandatorily rotated by now, but Sudan could handle that just as well: the Betazoid Lieutenant Commander had a keen sense for fatigue among the crew, and knew when they were reaching, rather than riding, their limits. He got a simple ‘Affirmative’ from her, and stepped off the bridge with a last look at the ant hill of its crew compliment, smiling with concern before turning left to his preferred turbolift station, which had been prioritized for command needs in a crisis.

“Sick bay ICU,” he instructed as he stepped into the dimly lit can, feeling the throb of fatigue budding behind his eyes as he braced for what he always considered to be an awkward period of contemplation as the lift shuttled through maglev tunnels between bulkheads. He dreaded what he’d find when he arrived at his destination: Paine was his first officer, and in the year that they’d served together thus far, he’d come to respect and rely on her. She was as true and stalwart a warrior as he had ever encountered, at any time, anywhere, so to see her laid low by the disruptor infection which had impacted the crew stationed in the aft deuterium storage bays when the first attack had taken them unprepared was a demoralizing sensation. Many of the others had been treated and were recovering, as the Vellouwyn’s medical team was among the most brilliant he’d ever seen, but three of his crew were still unconscious and in various states of suffering, with Paine being by far the most overwhelmed.

Before he returned to his rotation, perhaps to get some rest, but more likely to revisit the plan with his strategic teams before they reached their next destination, he would spend some time at their sides, speaking quietly of what he knew of them, what was important to them, their motivation and inspirations. He did not know, and nor did Chief Medical Officer Barr, whether they could hear him or not, but he felt that if anything would motivate them to stave off death, it was the things of value found in their lives. It was the least he could do to remind them of their worth.

And now...

[night-dark-woods]

VD. A tiktok duet between users TheBretCrowShow and ElleCordova. The former plays an electric bassline while the latter speaks in rhythm. Text on the video says "Star Trek Technobabble" and a comment pops up at the end that reads, "and they called her 7 of Rhyme..." She is wearing a yellow shirt and gesturing with a laptop. What she says is:

Engineering here.

We got a subspace anomaly, a graviton pulse.

We got a catastrophic diagnostic cycle result.

Inertial dampeners just went offline,

And that's a 10 hour job, but we'll do it in 5.

I need a cryosensor hyperspanner neutrino probe,

And a phase compensator for the warp manifolds.

Cargo Bay 3's on the verge of collapse,

It's got more subspace flux than the Delphic Expanse.

I'm gonna temporarily reverse the polarity

Of this module, to monitor optronic disparities,

But we gotta find the source of that plasma leak,

Or we're looking at a possible warp core breach.

Man, I was gonna hit Ten Forward tonight,

I told Guinan I'd be by to try the Risan Delight,

But I'm stuck in engineering, and I can't be surprised-

'Cause it's just another day on the Enterprise.

End VD.

goes hard

[dynemechantivibration]

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[sw5w]

Obi-Wan Follows Close Behind

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:20:33 - 00:20:34

Senator Simon Greyshade's B69 Elektra airspeeder referenced here appeared in Star Wars Republic #47, where it had a very different appearance between the cover art and within the comic itself.

An outtake of this short is also the source of the infamous Obi-Wan happily joyriding meme!

[digitrenndsamr]

Oil and Gas Accumulator Market to Surge at a Robust Pace in Terms of Revenue Over 2030

The global oil and gas accumulator market is expected to possess high growth potential in the coming years. Bladder accumulator has excellent significant features, such as small inertial with quick response, easy charging, simple installation, compensation for pressure variation, and others, that make it suitable for a wide range of applications. Diaphragm accumulators possess excellent significant features, such as high gas compression ratios, small size, less maintenance, easy mounting options, and others, that make them suitable for applications such as mobile equipment, chemical industries, renewable energy, and others. This is predicted to offer lucrative growth opportunities in the future. However, the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic has had negative impacts on the global oil and gas accumulator market.

An oil and gas accumulator is a type of hydraulic accumulator that is used to store energy in the form of compressed gas. Bladder accumulators, piston accumulators, and diaphragm accumulators are the types of oil and gas accumulators that are available in the market.

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Rising industrial activities have led regulatory bodies, such as Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), Pressure Equipment Directive (PED), and others, to put more emphasis on equipment operating under extremely erratic pressure. Several hazards, such as well blowouts, explosions, oil spills, and others, occur due to high-pressure fluctuations during exploration and drilling activities. Oil and gas accumulators are widely used to handle high-pressure fluctuations and leakage compensation in oil wells by utilizing the compressible and incompressible nature of nitrogen gas for reducing the risk factors of hazards. These factors are predicted to notably contribute to the global market.

However, the prices of crude oil are controlled by oil traders, current oil supply, and future supply & demand. These factors make crude oil a highly volatile commodity. Natural and man-made disasters have a great influence on the price fluctuations of oil. For instance, attributed to the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, factories and manufacturing sites went on a complete shutdown that declined global oil demand.

Many plants were closed or either running at reduced rates, which may affect the demand for oil and gas accumulators. In addition, some of the worst affected countries, such as the U.S., India, Brazil, France, Russia, the UK, and others, have experienced very high price fluctuations of crude oil, and thus have reported considerably less demand for oil and gas accumulators amid the COVID-19 period. This factor is anticipated to hamper the oil and gas accumulator market growth.

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The oil and gas accumulator market is segmented on the basis of type, deployment location, application, and region.

By type, the market is segregated into bladder accumulators, piston accumulators, and diaphragm accumulators. The bladder accumulator type dominated the global market in terms of revenue in 2020, with over 52.6% of the total market share. The increasing global energy need has accelerated offshore oil production. The bladder accumulator being widely used for pressure holding and leakage compensation applications in offshore oil production may lead the oil and gas accumulators market to witness a significant increase in demand.

By deployment location, the global oil and gas accumulator market is classified into offshore and onshore. The offshore deployment segment dominated the global market in terms of revenue in 2020, with over 67.8% of the total market share. The rapid increase in global energy demand has made oil-producing countries put more emphasis on their oil production capacities. Thus, the use of oil and gas accumulators for pressure control, shock absorption, energy storage, and other applications in drilling and exploration activities may fuel the growth of the oil and gas accumulators in offshore locations.

By application, the market is fragmented into blow-out preventers, drilling rigs, mud pumps, and others. The blow-out prevents applications dominated the global market, with over 45.3% of the total market share in 2020. The utilization of oil and gas accumulators in drilling rigs for controlling, RAMS blow-out preventers (BOP), annular blowout preventers, hydraulically operated gate valves (HCR), and other hydraulic equipment is the major key market trend in the global market. The rising awareness of work safety rules has led key oil manufacturing companies to focus more on the safety of workers and equipment. This has increased the sales of oil and gas accumulators for preventing high-pressure blow-outs during emergencies.

Key players operating in the global oil and gas accumulator industry include Accumulators Inc., Airmo Inc., Bosch Rexroth AG, Eaton Corporation PLC (Eaton), HAWE Hydraulik SE, Hydac Verwaltung GmbH (Hydac), Hydroll, Nippon Accumulator Co., Ltd, NOK Corporation, and Parker Hannifin Corp.

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Key findings of the study

- The bladder accumulator segment is estimated to display the highest growth rate, in terms of revenue, registering a CAGR of 5.6% from 2021 to 2030. - The offshore deployment location type is anticipated to register the highest CAGR of 5.4% during the forecast period. - The blow-out application segment is estimated to display the highest growth rate, in terms of revenue, registering a CAGR of 5.3% from 2021 to 2030. - Asia-Pacific garnered the highest market share of 24.2% in 2020, in terms of revenue, growing at a CAGR of 6.4%

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[child-of-the-new-contagion]

asmr sutra 1/x

HANDS WARMedUP.

Judiciously stringing out beads of dram, creating an interference pattern with the tendency toward fear and guilt - trying for vigilance but succumbing to frustrating laziness - creating future periods of drowse and preparing for a long plateau of smooth surfaces overlapping in pleasing stratas, nothing too steep or jagged. Venting inertial damper exhaust to compensate for quantum fluctuation.

Careful staggered doses of dram will keep things delirious but sane. The fog of extra-thick sensation will soon pass, so I'm looking strategically well beyond this next couple hours to a good dozen of good vibes. Don't worry, be drowsy. We'll make it fine, somehow, see what we can get away with.

It'll be a sutra. It'll have floofy cats with curly fur walking across the desk. I can leave this in the hopper, indefinitely, to encourage honesty, if that's what's necessary... but I don't care, actually, I'll be indelicate and still honest-ishy.

What does that kitty want from me? Wish I could give it to her. If only I knew. If only I could trust anything I think cause I got no instinct. Some paranoid hallucinations. Some ability at the best of times to think of the universe as a conspiracy to help me [a subset of the big meta-theory that we're all playing an entertaining role in the cosmic opera, taking turns.] I guess hearing Alan Watt's articulation of the Maya theory did influence me a lot, just not in a brainwashing way, more in the way where I'm willing to become wishy washy about the distinctions between me and you, friend and enemy. Maybe I just wanna be sedated, better yet opiated. I'm not enough of either of those two things.

I don't know how I would contort this into something fit for squeezing through za medium of twitter. My writing is like ensure, force-fed to prisoners to break a hunger strike. That's a good emblem, at least, for the perverse banality of my writing, anyway, let's say, with imagery not worthy of such a medium, like cheapening the holocaust in a third-rate film adaptation of a second-rate stephen king novella.

Let it all flow as it's all disposed to around me. A prayer of thanks for what is, not yearning. Having modest needs taken care of. Modest. In this second, in enjoying the enabling of all this by a vast assemblage of toil from generations past to be here now.

I'll write about "them" all astounding me later.

*

Value inflates to the size of dream symbology, then restricts like a trap, all the air is sucked out, I'm naked, in a vacuum tube. A metaphor too outside your experience to get. 

Let it flow. Fake flow til it goes. 

Savouring the sucking out of nicotine laced propylene glycol from the vape, taking two long drags without a breath of air so I get winded yet vindicated from the dopamine hack I guess, pretending to be higher than I am. Willing it into existence cause I can play in the realm of magic like a lucid dream. 

Savouring the simple pleasures of this weird life circumstance is a good thing to do, often, and dispute how all the problems seem to be piling up on all sides. No problemo, take another puff, it's like quaker oats, the right thing to do. It's moral righteousness. You can shake and quake along with my supine slack if you want. Everyone has their own route to god if they're lucky enough to be able to find one. Alan Jensen found a direct route to God, but he found it profoundly disturbing, ultimately unbearable, so he sold his soul to his ego, bought back a functional life. No flashbacks. 

Savouring watching another failarmy compilation on YouTube with Erin is a good thing to do in these end times. It wouldn't be worth hardly anything doing it by myself, but it's a couch experience way more than the sum of its parts with her.

[forcesung]

“Don’t play stupid,” Luke snapped. “This isn’t about the academy. It’s about Ben.”

“Ben?” Caedus stopped at the corner of his desk, feigning shock. “Did something happen to him?”

“You tell me,” Luke said. “You’re the one who sent him.”

“Sent him where? I’ve hardly spoken to Ben since the funeral.”

In the next instant, Caedus found himself flying across the cabin toward his observation bubble. Luke had not gestured, had not flinched, had not even shifted his gaze; he had simply grabbed Caedus in the Force and hurled him five meters into his chair.

“Don’t lie.” Luke started across the cabin. “I’m getting tired of it.”

Caedus sprang out of the chair…or attempted to. Instead, he found himself struggling against an invisible weight. He felt as if he were accelerating to lightspeed with a faulty inertial compensator.

“Luke, you’ve gone mad.” Caedus reached for the controls on the arm of his chair and discovered he couldn’t even do that much. “You can’t do this. I know you’re having trouble dealing with Mara’s death, but—”

“This has nothing to do with Mara,” Luke said. “And you’re lucky it doesn’t. If she were here—if she had known what you were using Ben for—there’d be pieces of you scattered along the entire length of the Hydian Way.”

The irony of the statement was far from lost on Caedus, but he was too astonished—and too frightened—to take any pleasure in it. While it was true that Luke had taken him by surprise, it was equally true that he had done so with no visible effort—and that he was continuing to hold him with no apparent exertion.

Keenly aware that all that stood between him and a quick death was Luke Skywalker’s much-strained sense of decency, Caedus let a little of his very real fear seep into the Force, just enough to seem properly alarmed.

—Legacy of the Force: Inferno, Troy Denning

[technoamr]

The global oil and gas accumulator market is expected to possess high growth potential in the coming years. Bladder accumulator has excellent significant features, such as small inertial with quick response, easy charging, simple installation, compensation for pressure variation, and others, that make it suitable for a wide range of applications. Diaphragm accumulators possess excellent significant features, such as high gas compression ratios, small size, less maintenance, easy mounting options, and others, that make them suitable for applications such as mobile equipment, chemical industries, renewable energy, and others. This is predicted to offer lucrative growth opportunities in the future. However, the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic has had negative impacts on the global oil and gas accumulator market. The global oil and gas accumulator market was valued at $488.3 million in 2020 and is projected to reach $814.4 million by 2030, growing at a CAGR of 5.3% from 2021 to 2030.