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weerd1 · 5 years ago

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Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1909.24: Missions Reviewed, “Chimera,” “Badda Bing Badda Boom,” and “Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges.”

Odo and O’Brien are returning from a conference when their Runabout is rammed by a space whale. It suddenly disappears and their ship is infiltrated by a changeling. Initially, they think it might be a Founder, but Odo quickly understands this is a Changeling like him, one of the 100 sent out into the galaxy to explore. This one, called Laas, has found Odo, the only other shapeshifter he has encountered. Laas immediately shows a disdain for “monoforms,” and particularly after linking with Odo feels the two of them should leave to find other Changelings. He cites the fact Odo knows there is a virus killing the Founders, and together with the other 100, they could form a new Great Link. Also, after having linked Laas knows that Odo stays for one reason only: Kira. Odo tries to get Laas to socialize with his friends but it doesn’t go well, with Laas increasingly taunting Odo for bending to the monoforms’ sense of normal rather than being himself.

When Laas is antagonized by two Klingons on the Promenade, the altercation runs deadly with Laas stabbing a Klingon. When Sisko agrees to extradite Laas to the Empire, Odo believes it would not have happened if Laas were not a Changeling. Quark tells Odo that “solids” are programmed on a genetic level to distrust things that are different. When Odo confronts Kira on this, she realizes how torn he is. She released Laas and tells Odo what planet he can go to in order to find him and start their quest to find the other 100. Odo does go, but tells Laas that he—and Quark—are wrong about humanoids, and Kira is the example that proves it, putting Odo’s desires above her own. Odo bids Laas farewell and returns to Kira. She regrets that they cannot link, but Odo becomes a shimmering mist and surrounds her, encompassing her in the most intimate way he can be with a humanoid.

An interesting look at xenophobia, and how it seems to work both ways with the humans (or humanoids) being distrustful, but Laas himself also refusing to consider them as anything more than savage. It’s an important step for the Odo/Kira relationship, but with knowledge of where the show is going, also is setting the stage for Odo’s eventual exit from the Alpha Quadrant, and making Kira who he leaves behind. That’s a few episodes off though, and right now we can wallow in and wrap the warmth that is their love for one another around ourselves like a cozy blanket. (Before it is ripped away from us.) It would be interesting to see what ever became of Laas and if he found others. Laas Is played by JG Hertzler, who usually plays General Martok the Klingon. His performance and the makeup here come together well enough to make you forget it’s the same man. Also, when Laas first appears as a bit of cosmozoa I would describe as a space whale, it seems to me to be very similar to a gormagander which we will see later (earlier?) on “Discovery.” Memory Alpha, the Star Trek wiki, does not make that connection however, so maybe it’s just me.

Vic Fontaine’s casino is in trouble in “Badda Bing Badda Bang.” The program is suddenly taken over by a holographic mobster known as Frankie Eyes. They can’t just restart the program as it will wipe Vic’s memory. Bashir contacts “Felix” who programmed it in the first place and finds out the takeover is a “Jack-in-the-Box”: an effort to keep the game fresh.

To restore the program (and keep Vic safe) Julian and Miles have to find away to get rid of Frankie Eyes that doesn’t get Vic killed. Much of the rest of the staff want to help, owing a debt to Vic in one form or another. Kassidy Yates also argues for Vic being more than a hologram, but Sisko does not want to participate because he feels the inclusivity of the program ignores the true history of the period, and the struggle African-Americans would have existing in 1962 Las Vegas. Kassidy argues that you don’t have to forget your past to enjoy a version that demonstrates how it SHOULD have been, provided you know the truth. Sisko ponders that while the crew come up with a heist plan to take the casino’s money, preventing Frankie Eyes from passing the cut on to his higher benefactors in the mob. The plan is sound except they need one more role in the heist filled. Sisko unexpectedly appears in order to fill it.

They prep, but of course there are snags along the way and the plan has to adapt to other little unexpected moments built into the program. They do manage to pull it off, ruining Frankie Eyes and restoring Vic’s casino. To celebrate, Ben actually joins Vic on stage to sing “The Best is Yet to Come.”

The last fun episode of the show, period, they still manage to get in some interesting commentary. The argument we may have over a film like “The Patriot” that idealizes a character who would most likely have been a slave owner is demonstrated well here, and Sisko, particularly after his experience as Benny Russell in “Far Beyond the Stars” and “Shadows and Symbols” is the right character to point it out. This is in the end a heist episode, completely in the spirit of “Ocean’s 11” and it never falls into the Trek Trope of “Oh no, the holodeck is going to kill us.” They want to help Vic because the change is real for HIS world, in he has, whether sentient or not, helped them all in their own world (Nog in particular who is well used here). Again, there’s a larger issue here whether or not holograms are life forms, but for the most part, this is a chance to catch your breath, because the next one is back to the big questions.

“Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges” begins with the return of Sloan from Section 31. He knows Bashir is going to attend a medical conference on Romulus with Admiral Ross and Senator Cretak (who, despite being a different actress, we last saw having a stand off with Kira over a heavily armed Romulan hospital in the season opener). Sloan wants Bashir to collect information on the health of the head of a Romulan Tal Shiar (their equivalent of Section 31 and the Obsidian Order). Bashir goes on the trip and finds to his surprise that Sloan is himself there.

When Koval of the Tal Shiar hopes Bashir can show him how to introduce the Dominion “Quickening” virus into a population, he tells Sloan they have to stop him. Sloan however just wants a medical diagnosis as it turns out Koval suffers from a rare Romulan disease. Bashir realizes Sloan plans to kill Koval and make it look like his illness, and that Sloan to know about this must have a mole in the Romulan government. He goes to Ross, who plans to act but mysteriously suffers and aneurysm, leaving Julian on his own. He goes to the one person he trusts, Senator Cretak, to get information that could save Koval. Soon after Koval arrests and interrogates Bashir, soon bringing him before the Romulan ruling council, lead by the Praetor himself (last seen as a proconsul WAYYYYYYYY back in the TNG 5thseason episode “Unification” which had Spock trying to repair Vulcan and Romulan relations). Also there is Cretak, who was caught gathering her information. Koval also brings in Sloan, who he reveals to be a simple intelligence officer looking for revenge for Romulans killing his mentor. Section 31 is a fiction. Koval believes however that Cretak is actually conspiring with Starfleet to kill him, and the council decides to strip her of status, and possibly execute her. In her place on the council, they appoint Koval.

They plan to release Bashir, but Sloan is to be kept. He tries to escape, but is disintegrated by Koval. Back on the way home, Bashir is deep in thought, and he goes to confront the recovered Ross. Bashir demands to know where Sloan is, as Bashir has realized that the plot all along was to get Koval, the ACTUAL Section 31 mole onto the council, while sacrificing Ross’ friend Cretak. Bashir has been outmaneuvered by Sloan and Section 31, getting them exactly what they wanted…and Ross must have known. Ross tells Bashir “Inter arma enim silent leges,” a quote from Cicero that means “in war, the law falls silent.” Bashir is appalled, asking if the Federation is to become a new Roman (or perhaps Romulan?) Empire. Ross dismisses him, and sure enough back on DS9 Sloan reappears, thanking for being a good man who could be counted on to do the right thing so Section 31 could exploit it. Bashir considers calling security, but knows it will do no good.

This one is deep, and Section 31 digs its place in Trek history a little deeper. I really liked Megan Cole as Senator Cretak, eating a jumja stick and winning over Kira before proving to be crafty at the beginning of the season, but she was unavailable for this one. Casting Adrianne Barbeau, no stranger to the genre (Escape from New York, Creepshow, Swamp Thing, being married to John Carpenter) is a bit of a delight though, and her Cretak is a bit more sympathetic than Cole’s which fits this story well. Also look for John Fleck as Koval, who among other roles will play the Suliban Silik on “Enterprise.” The episode though is another unflinching look at what even the best of nations may have to do in war, and what our soldiers may lose of our souls and values to protect the souls and values of the people and nation.

NEXT VOYAGE: The epic NINE PART finale of Deep Space Nine begins with Sisko about to marry Kassidy Yates and Worf back in Dominion hands in “Penumbra��!

#Star Trek #star trek: Deep Space Nine #DS9 Rewatch

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chachacorner · 6 years ago

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ograndebatata · 6 years ago

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Daria headcanons

So... like the previous post, this one is meant to somewhat ‘cushion’ the blow inherent to the darkness in my post of headcanons about Shuriki.

Admittedly, it’s a somewhat poor attempt, because while it does not feature anywhere near the level of darkness of the headcanons about Shuriki, it still includes dark elements such as abuse and trauma and a character being tortured.

As such, reader discretion would be advised when reading these.

A special credit note here: the idea of Daria’s parents being killed in a human attack comes from @cartoonfangirl1218, although it happens under different circunstances in her headcanons than in mine.

For those of who still interested, please click below for my headcanons on the reef commander of Coronado, along with some tidbits on her octopus friend.

Daria

Early scars

Both among humans and sirenas, suffering is said by some to strengthen the soul and to build character. Thoughts on whether such a statement is true vary a great depending on one’s personal opinion, but in Daria’s case, much of her life seemed to want to make her a constant test subject of that experiment.

Like every other sirena during the hostilities against humans, young Daria would often have to deal with one or even both of her parents being called away for battles against human vessels which crossed their waters. While they were not formally part of the sirenean army, they had had military training like every sirena was expected to, and were called away for battles against humans if the need was deemed to arise.

Outside of battle, neither her father, Isaías, nor her mother, Prisca, were particularly combative by any means; her father repaired sirenean structures, her mother farmed kelp, and they were quiet rule-followers both wished for the day battles against humans would end.

Daria took after her parents when it came to rule-following, but not in terms of quiet personality. Even at a young age, she was a combative sort who held firm to her opinions, and her games as a child would involve wrestling with other sirenean kids and racing them around the ocean, although within the limits of rule-following. But the one she liked the most, like many sirenean children, was ‘sink the ship’, which involved the children pretending they were adult sirenean soldiers fighting humans.

While many sirenean parents did not mind such a mentality, as they viewed it as a continuation of their legacy of wiping the source of the seas off the living world, Daria’s parents were more bothered by it. To them, fighting humans was a horror, and both Isaías and Prisca tried their best to explain that to Daria. Unfortunately, there were only so many explanations they could give without resorting to words or scenarios too potentially disturbing for a young child, even one as brave as Daria. In the end, Isaías and Daria decided to let it slide for the most part and pray she would understand on her own how bad fighting humans was, ideally before she would get any practical experience.

She did understand, but it was the harshest lesson Daria was ever taught.

It happened one day, when Daria was eleven, and the three of them were out having a ‘fun day’ at a coral reef. They were just getting ready to have fresh kelp for lunch, when out of nowhere, a group of seven humans who were magically breathing underwater burst out of nowhere with harpoons and swords at the ready. Neither Isaías nor Prsica managed to avoid the first stab, and the one who aimed at Daria barely missed. Daria smacked him aside with her tail, but then saw her parents getting overwhelmed by the remaining humans. She managed to scatter the humans by charging toward them at high speed, but she failed to halt her momentum and crashed into a bed of corals.

As she put herself together, one of the humans slashed at her with his sword, and though she managed to dodge the brunt of the attack, the blade still cut through her tail.

Though mortally wounded, her father and mother approached the human and threw him into the others, and then shouted at Daria to get away from there. Daria tried to object, but the forceful way in which they insisted at her afterwards made her obey, and she swam as fast as she could without looking back.

But even with her back turned, she could see the red cloud exploding through the water as the humans kept attacking her parents.

Times of sadness

Fleeing a battle site with an injured tail was no easy feat, and it was made all the worse by the fact that the harder she swam, the worst her injury seemed to get. And to make things even worse, the humans who killed her parents then managed to track her down, thanks to a shark they were mind-controlling (apparently, the whole reason they could breathe underwater was that one of the humans was a wizard).

Daria tried to get further away, but by that point her tail hurt far too much, and the most she could go was to glare at the humans in defiance as they got ready to strike her down.

But then several blurs swan in and most of the humans were run through by harpoons on the spot, including the wizard of the group. Most of them quickly followed, and then a group of soldiers with concerned looks on their faces surrounded her. They set her tail the best they could on the spot, and then took her to a healing center where they properly healed her.

It was a long process, and a scar remained on her tail by the end of it, but at least there was no permanent physical damage when her healing was done. Her psychology was a different story entirely - her already hostile sentiments to humans grew like a tsunami, and though she had seen the horrors of what fighting them really was like, Daria had never been the sort to turn away from difficulties, and maintained her vow that once she was old enough, she would join the royal army.

Making it there, however, seemed to suddenly become much tougher than she had imagined, as her parents had been killed, and neither of them had any relatives that Daria knew of, which lead to her ending up in an orphanage.

Things were not easy to her there. She was much bigger and stronger than any of the kids her age, and the mix between the bitterness she had welled up against the humans and the violent nightmares that even now she still sometimes had made most of the other kids stay away from her.

Daria tried not to mind too much at first, as a few of her older friends still sometimes came by to visit her, but over time such visits grew rarer until they ended. By that point, however, it was difficult for her to settle int. While most of the other orphans did have compassion toward her (as many of them also had lost their parents to human attacks) she had taken so long enough to settle in that it was difficult to make friends. The younger orphans liked her, due to her defending them from bullies, but said bullies were popular enough that Daria’s status was as low as it could get. And the orphanage’s staff had enough problems keeping it and everyone in it alive and minimally healthy to devote proper attention to inter-orphan relations.

Daria’s absolutely lowest points came during the adoption days, when the orphans were displayed like shiny pearls before prospective parents who came to look for children to adopt. None of them even gave her a second glance, and a few even seemed to get somewhat afraid of her upon seeing the scar on her tail and general tough look.

Until one day, when she was thirteen, and another couple visited the orphanage looking for children to adopt. Both the sirenean man, Nahor, and the sirenean woman, Orpah, took an interest in her upon surveying the children waiting to be adopted. Daria was puzzled as to why. As hurt as she was about the fact no one wanted to adopt her, she also did not care to make herself appealing to potential adoptive parents.

But whatever their reasons, they genuinely seemed interested in her. They were kind and friendly, they took the time to talk to her, and they showed her more support than anyone had in years.

After a few months, Daria wanted to go with them, and as their investigations seemed to suggest this couple was trustworthy, the orphanage people were all too glad to send her away, as staffing was limited due to the war against humans still going on.

Daria was too old and remembered her parents too well to feel she had earned replacement parents, but she was hopeful all the same. Nahor and Orpah had been so kind to her that she was hoping to like her life much better than the one at the orphanage.

And her hopes were shattered within hours.

Within hours of catching themselves alone with Daria, they told her the truth: they actually were criminals, and the reason they had picked Daria was because they and their boss needed someone to help in performing certain tasks, and Daria fit the profile. She was strong enough to pack a punch if the need arose, young enough to be beneath suspicion, and clever enough to understand what she was told.

And, though they did not voice that particular part, she also was the kind of sirena no one would be likely to believe if she tried to tell anyone the truth, not to mention that her affection for the younger orphans made her liable to stay in line if she was reminded of the kinds of harm that could come to them.

Daria could not believe it. She thought she had been leaving a bad place behind, but she had fallen into one that was even worse.

But while the bad surprise hardened her further, it did not break her. She would not let these two ruin her, and would not be their toy forever.

Help from a friend

For the most part, Daria stayed in line over the next years, doing what her new caretakers told her to and bearing what they threw at her, all the while making her way through the criminal side of Coronado.

But she meant what she said when she vowed they would not ruin her, and as bitter as she sounded to anyone she met, she kept hating the evil things she ended up being forced to do and tried to do as many good things as possible to compensate.

One of them almost ended up putting her in a spot of trouble, when she was fifteen, and found a trio of teenage sirenos having fun by pulling off a tiny octopus’ tentacles. While the itty bitty mollusc tried to sound defiant and intimidating, Daria could tell he was in a great deal of pain, as he had already lost three two tentacles by the time she found the teens bullying him, and told them to back off. None of them was impressed, but Daria tried to make her point once again: either they’d leave the octopus alone, or she would teach them a lesson.

She ended up teaching them a lesson. And it was one they never forgot.

After they fled, Daria asked the octopus, whose name was Ocho, if he was alright. He claimed to be at first, but after Daria’s pointed look, he fessed up that yes, he was in pain, even as he maintained it was not a problem because he was tough and his tentacles would grow back anyway. On an impulse, Daria remarked wistfully how she wished it was that easy for her kind… and then Ocho saw the scar on her tail. At that, he instantly softened and said he was sorry. Daria told him not to be; it wouldn’t make a difference.

Ocho respected that, even as he remained sorry, and he and Daria ended up spending the rest of the day together talking about their many woes, which for Ocho came from his runtiness, and for Daria from her adopted family.

By the end of the day, Ocho decided to follow Daria home, and although neither Nahor nor Orpah were very glad about it (if only because the bullies were some of their colleagues’ children), Daria told them he was her friend now, and the deal was that none of her friends would get hurt as long as she behaved, and Ocho was her friend now. And what was more, she had done the gang a favor by not having those three draw attention by being jerks in broad daylight.

Both ended up relenting, though they made it a point to thrash Daria for her insolence.

She took it, but she decided that would be the last one. She knew she was bound not to be eligible to join the royal army at this point (even as a lowly crook, she probably already had some kind of criminal record that made it impossible) but at fifteen, she was old enough to survive on her own as far as she was concerned. And now, with Ocho’s help, she had the means to be rid of those bastards.

It took some time, some careful planning, and even a bit of good luck, but by whispering the right words to the right people and being clever enough to find undercover royal soldiers, Daria was able to get her so-called adopted parents and the whole gang they were associated with captured and tried. Of course, she was captured as well, but that was of little consequence to her. She was sure enough she wouldn’t spend all that long in jail anyway, and it was a small price to pay to be rid of those two.

She ended up being more right than she thought. When the time came for her to be interrogated, and she was the most eager witness that king Pescoro had interrogated, she ended up having her chance to tell her story. She was met with utter disbelief, and a few more skeptical jury members thought she was making it up. There was no way she could not even be sixteen given her looks, and surely those running an orphanage would be thorough enough to make sure no child they sheltered would be adopted by two criminals. But as Daria pointed out more and more evidence, and even managed to find a few of the soldiers who had rescued her on the day her parents were killed, even they had to accept it was the truth.

In the end, thanks to that and her own lack of particularly egregious evil deeds, Daria was spared from any severe punishment. She had to do some community service at first, but she avoided jail time, and was even promised by the king herself that, the day after her sixteenth birthday, she could start training to be a soldier, if she still wanted it.

She could scarcely believe it. The sheer joy of being free was so surreal to her that, for the first time in years, she burst into sobs and tears that thankfully could not be easily detected underwater anyway.

All the same, Ocho made it a point to wipe them off her eyes with his tentacles, even as he defiantly glared at all those he felt were taking too close a look at Daria’s crying.

Military purposes

Like King Pescoro had promised, Daria could start her basic training to be a soldier the day after her sixteenth birthday.

Daria had to admit it was harsher than she had expected. Even at basic training only, there was a strict schedule, a scrupulously-followed routine, many things to learn, and demanding physical training.

But nevertheless, she thrived in it, and while she did not look forward to the horrors she now knew she was bound to find once she actually became a soldier, she was still determined to make the ocean better. For her parents, for all the parents that still lived, and for all the children who could become orphans if any human attacks were not stopped.

She ended up having quite a surprise.

Around the same time she finished her military training, the attacks against humans suddenly met with a sharp drop, for reasons no one could figure out. Daria was one of the many who were curious about such a thing, and made everything she could to find out why. She didn’t get any closer to success than anyone else who made the attempt, although that could perhaps be attributed to the fact that, even disregarding the human attacks, there were many things to protect the sirenas from in the ocean, and Daria’s superiors were proud of the job she kept doing on those fronts. Daria herself couldn’t help but be somewhat thankful that their own initiatives against humans seemed to be met with a sharp drop in pre-emptive attacks from the humans themselves, although those would still happen on occasion.

Daria, however, was not proud of or thankful to her king in the least that the whole reason behind less hostilities against humans was that he had fallen in love with a human woman, and one he had ended up turning into a sirena to keep her from drowning. To Daria, this ‘abomination’ (though she kept from using that word in front of the king) was something that should have been left to die. Now that she was alive, she would only feed everything she knew about sirenas and Coronado to her kind, and they would come with overwhelming battle means to destroy them all.

To her shock, many did not share her opinion. It was a shock, for sure, but the king’s suitor, named Camila (the fact humans even had individual names like sirenas was a shock to many) seemed to be a perfectly kind and loving ruler. And Pescoro had been a good king. The fact he had found it in himself to feel pity for a human only showed the kind of heart he had. Surely he would not be intentionally putting them all in danger if he believed there was a chance Camila was a liar.

In an effort to see what it was all about, Daria ended up joining some of the human observation programs that King Pescoro conducted… and saw that indeed, they at least had feelings. They might still be overwhelmingly evil, and nothing would ever persuade her otherwise, but they had feelings. And as far as Camila herself was concerned, she was actually good-hearted, although whether that had been part of her as a human or was because of her being turned into a sirena, Daria could not say. At any rate, she couldn’t argue that at least the humans were largely leaving them alone now. So, when the day came for the symbolic laydown of their weapons, Daria joined them, torn between relief and disgust.

But despite the end of her primary purpose to join the army, she stayed in the armed forces, and over time, her efforts were very important toward making Coronado safer than it had ever been, thanks to her relative experience in dealing with the criminal side of town. Her biggest feat was her campaign which lead in the malandros’ capture and later banishment from her kingdom, which earned her the promotion to general.

All in all, Daria could say she was as happy as she figured she would ever be. The only thing threatening that were the attacks on sirenas that some humans still launched on occasion.

They did something much more astonishing, however, when the Princess of Avalor ended up in her kingdom thanks to Princess Marisa’s kindness (far too much like her father’s and mother’s, in Daria’s opinion) and asked them for help in defeating an evil sorceress. They ultimately had to help when Princess Marisa herself ended up in danger, but Daria still believed it was part of a plot to destroy the sirenas.

Her desperation was such that she sought out the malandros and asked them for help in ruining the peace treaty… and paid the price when she almost allowed her kingdom to be ruined by another.

It was her lowest point in years.

But to her astonishment, the humans helped her out, and the malandros were driven away. And Daria got to live to see the world her parents had wished for.

#elena of avalor #headcanons #headcanon #daria #ocho #tw: abuse #tw: torture #tw: trauma

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pravanaspectehniku · 2 years ago

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listing-to-port · 7 years ago

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Seven dread infrastructures

1. In order to keep a handle on That Which Must Not Be Named it is necessary to list it somewhere; otherwise, we might go about naming it all the time without realising. This is the function of the Library of the Unnameable. It contains a number of Catalogues That Must Not Be Read, an underground repository for Books that Must Not Be Opened and a small cafe where one may purchase a Bun That Must Not Be Eaten. In recent years, an ongoing dispute between management and Those Librarians Who Must Not Be Paid has led to the library being unstaffed much of the time, and as a consequence several surreptitious naming incidents are thought to have occurred.

2. If you have ever been in a building whose very angles sent a shiver through your innocent soul and whose geometry was not readily comprehensible to the sane, you will have realised that non-traditional construction techniques must have been used. In fact, there is a thriving eldritch construction business which caters to such locations. Aspriring owners of disturbing buildings must first submit a remit to a suitable non-Euclidian architect, before contracting one of several specialised building entities. If it is necessary to use weirdly glowing stone from another dimension, you may also need to make use of an inter-dimensional transshipment agent as well.

3. Similarly, much-haunted locations can rarely generate all their own ectoplasm. Instead, a piping system is usually installed. Ectoplasm harvested from net-generating places (for example, graveyards, sunken ships, sinister temples and the like) is stored in a regional reservoir, usually beneath interstitial places such as traffic intersections or service stations. From there, pumps transport it as required to where it is needed (for example, old houses up on the moors). Once used, ectoplasm needs to be fully filtered before it can be recycled. This is handled by a second system of pipes, broadly the equivalent of a mystical sewage system. Used ectoplasm should never be dumped as it can have unintended consequences on local weather systems.

4. How are locality-based dark secrets maintained in the face of an increasingly global world? The answer, as it turns out, is to compartmentalise your dark secrets: in many cases quite literally, using devices similar to a pill organiser. For example, consider the case of a town that carries out a mysterious sacrifice at Midsummer, half of whose inhabitants commute daily to another town that is overrun by batrachian gallivants on the night of the new moon. By separating out your secrets into an attractive moulded plastic container, you can make sure that you are only subject to one at once and no overlaps occur.

5. Then there is that other system, with its cables and its buzzing and its complex topologies; but I cannot divulge further information on it, for the horror of its revelation has been known to burn pixels out of screens, necessitating the settlement of a large lawsuit on repair costs.

6. Reaching one's vast tentacles forth from the depths of the ocean can be rough on the skin. The combination of dry air, low atmospheric pressure and ineffective missiles from national defence systems can cause painful cracks and blisters; in a recent survey, three quarters of inhabitants of the deep had cancelled or postponed their awful trips to the surface because of skincare concerns. Fortunately, an innovative system to distribute kelp-enriched barrier creams upon the hulls of cultist cruise liners has recently been implemented. As a result, we should expect more pain-free cultural exchange with the deep in future.

7. The terror of the void would be trivial were it not for the teaching and licensing efforts of the abyss training school. Abysses in training spend their days in a calm, monastic environment where they may stare into each other for up to twelve hours a day, perfecting the uncompromising dread of their gaze and learning not to yawn. If you encounter a yawning void, you have probably stumbled on a junior or unqualified abyss and you may be entitled to a refund.

#lists #infrastructure #eldritch #unsettling #systems

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spookyspaghettisundae · 7 years ago

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This Is No Mercy

The vast blackness of space swallowed almost all sound.

The cacophony of screeching metal, combusting pipes, and pulse rifle fire was muted and distant. The alarm signal beeping inside the helmet of Dirk’s powered armor drowned out most remaining noise. The suit’s built-in computer adjusted to the changing situation and illustrated its operations with an orchestra of flashing lights and diagrams projected on the inside of his visor via the head-up display.

The former jump-trooper felt the drift and lightness that came with full immersion into zero gravity. The space vessel he had been in just seconds ago had been split apart in the middle, and he watched both ends hurtling away in different directions. Rapid-firing high-energy shots from one of the crew’s rifles whizzed past him and illuminated the debris and fragments of the destroyed ship circling around him in an almost hypnotic pattern.

He triggered his suit’s jump-jets to create a curved trajectory and fly for cover behind a large portion of broken ship hull. The sounds of his armor’s hydraulics and gyros accompanied every one of his movements. Dirk broke out in sweat within the compact battle suit.

“Divert energy from pulse dampers to armaments,” he growled into his inter-com.

“Exo-suit armaments are 96.8% damaged. I cannot proceed with this operation,” a computerized female voice replied.

He saw a pulse rifle shot melt a hole through his cover. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the wall and clutched a shredded piece of a blast door that spun towards him. The metal squealed under pressure when the exo-suit’s claws dug into it and bent its edges under the super-human force.

He shouted, “Then what good are you, you over-engineered pile of trash?”

“Please repeat query,” the computer said.

A familiar face projected itself onto his visor’s overlay. It was Vayne, cramped inside an exo-suit himself, judging by the red glow from the HUD on his end of the transmission.

“I trusted you,” Vayne said. Then his face wrinkled and contorted into an expression of unbridled rage. “You betrayed us! Scum!”

Dirk paused and let the words sink in. He believed that he deserved every single one of them. Here he was, having escaped death a few days ago on some godless planet, having turned on all the people he used to serve with. Quite a few of them had been killed in the process of assaulting Avidya Prime first, and now infiltrating the IGDD Resolute. Too many.

A series of shots sprayed across the opposite side of the blast door he was holding on to, and their impact sent him flying towards a jagged edge of the destroyed ship’s aft. No time to think. Seeing the twisted metal pointing towards him like sharp teeth in a monstrous maw reminded him of what he had committed himself to.

Dirk was perfectly willing to burn everything down to the ground now.

He screamed into the inter-com and engaged the jump-jets on his exo-suit, allowing him to sacrifice his cover by spinning the blast door around and getting it in between him and immediate death by impalement. The metal crunched and groaned as the blast door bent upon the shipwreck’s edge.

Blips on his HUD’s radar prompted him to look back over his shoulder and spot the other black exo-suit with the yellow logo of the Golden Knights flying at him with its jump-jets flaring brightly on its back and joints.

Still on his intercom’s display, Vayne yelled at him, “Yes, scream, you wretch! Die screaming!”

Firing wildly as he approached, several shots hit Dirk’s exo-suit and the overlay screen went on overdrive, displaying even more blinking lights and a damage assessment warning him that the battle armor had sustained critical damage.

“Intercom, off. Now,” Dirk shouted at the computer, struggling to find the words.

Vayne’s face disappeared from the HUD but their helmets crashed into each other. He saw his former colleague’s face screaming through the transparent parts of their helmet visors. The other man’s rage was completely inaudible to him.

“Divert all self-repair nanites to maintain hull integrity,” Dirk then said with a sound of resignation in his voice.

The pulse rifle in the hands of Vayne’s exo-suit moved to shoot Dirk in the head, but Dirk wrestled with Vayne, pushing the muzzle of the weapon away. They jerked each other around until Dirk head-butted Vayne’s suit, causing both of their visors to crack without completely shattering. The rifle went off, discharging more shots into the nothingness of space.

Their struggle had sent them hurtling farther and farther away from the ship’s wreckage, but neither Vayne nor Dirk paid any attention to that. People thus locked in a struggle to the death rarely do.

Dirk willfully ignored it when Vayne broke free from his right hand and ripped a piece of electronic wiring and metal shards out of Dirk’s armor. Instead, his own clawed suit’s hand clamped down on Vayne’s helmet. He let the pulse rifle rear around. This time, Vayne shot him squarely in the belly region.

The armor absorbed much of the shock that would have normally killed a human being in one shot. Nevertheless, he felt like there was pure fire spreading underneath his skin, like some of his insides had been cooked. The universe spun around him in one direction, and his senses spiraled out the other way. Dirk threw up into his helmet and sprayed the visor, muddying his view of Vayne’s face.

Maybe it was better that way, because between coughing and sputtering, he poured all his wrath and thirst for vengeance into letting his hand crush Vayne’s helmet. Through a red haze of blind rage and the merciless void of space, he continued to exert force and distantly heard the plate of Vayne’s head-gear cracking and bursting open.

Blood dispersed and drifted away in all directions while the pulse rifle discharged more shots, though all of them flew off into space without hitting Dirk this time—the dying moments of Vayne’s dead finger locked over the weapon’s trigger even though his head had been turned into a mushy pulp of bone, brain mass, blood, and armor fragments.

Then the firing stopped.

Dirk’s armored hand that had held on to Vayne’s rifle let go, and he pressed his hand down onto the hole in his armor that had been blown out by the pulse shots. Not that it would help, but it was just his instinct to try to cover it like any other human being would. Through the mess of vomit and the spiderweb-shaped cracks on his visor, he watched the headless body of Vayne slowly drift away from him.

The overlay screen flickered in and out of existence. Dirk saw that it was attempting self-repairs, but he did not hold on to much hope that it could save his own life. He registered that he only really heard his own breathing and the blood rushing through his ears. The computerized voice and its signal beeps sounded so distant now. The pain in his abdomen continued to burn, and he did not dare to look at the damage caused by Vayne’s rifle, neither tilting his head to peer down at himself nor allowing himself to stare at the display that measured his vital signs in percentages and idiotic bar graphs. The inside of his mouth tasted like acid, and he fought the urge to vomit again.

Oxygen still pumped through the interior of his suit. The wrecked ship drifted farther away. Or was it him who was drifting farther away? It did not matter. They had been in the middle of nowhere. Kjalla and Morgan had still been on that prison ship before it broke apart, but he saw no escape pods or docked smaller vessels escaping from the wreckage. Everybody on board must have died. After all, when things had gone south, nobody but him and Vayne had been suited up, he thought.

Every breath he took grew more shallow and labored. At first, he resisted the temptation to close his eyes. The burning sensation in his torso pulsated with each breath, and he felt a numbness in the tips of his extremities spreading out and creeping down his limbs. Then his resistance waned. Maybe if he made it back to the wreckage he could—no, finally, he blacked out.

When he came to again, the wreckage appeared more distant. The HUD still flickered inside his helmet, and Dirk could not feel his hands or legs anymore. Even though he saw a time counter on his display at one point, he had not had the luxury of checking it earlier and was left with no sense of the progression of time. He tried to activate the jump-jets on his powered armor, but the only response he got was a flickering display protesting against their use due to excessive damage to the exo-suit. He blacked out again.

The destroyed dreadnought still flashed with fires consuming its interior in the distance, even farther away now, almost just another bright speck in the sea of stars he drifted in.

The display flickered on again, and he glimpsed that the nanite self-repair systems had restored most the hull’s critical integrity. However, he also noted that the oxygen reserves were at 0.008%, blinking with a warning symbol next to the number.

What mistakes had he made? Had he been wrong about everything?

The Golden King did not deserve to get away with what he had done to Dirk’s family, to countless others, and the the Star Kingdom as a whole. But how many people had Dirk dragged into the abyss with himself since he had trodden on his path for vengeance? People he used to serve in the Knights with—people like Vayne.

Somewhere in the distance, he could still see the shiny black dot that was Vayne’s beheaded and mutilated powered armor, drifting lifelessly in a different direction.

Maybe he had been wrong all along. Maybe it was meant to be, and the Golden King’s actions were truly justified in the greater scheme of things. Dirk—like the countless other people in the Star Kingdom—was a little speck of nothingness in this vast ocean of suns and planets that spun through the infinite darkness of space.

Sacrifices in a larger plan. That was what the king’s cult preached. Dirk had always refused to believe it, to truly acknowledge it. It always seemed so callous. But now, at the brink of death, it all looked so clear.

Had he made a mistake by freeing that witch from her prison? By helping her free one of her lackeys from this dreadnought? Even if she had survived the ship breaking apart, how many billions of people would she continue to kill in her quest to end the Golden King’s life?

She had caused the breach in the dreadnought herself. That ship had harbored a crew of several hundred people and multiple times that amount in helpless prisoners. All dead or in the process of dying horribly now.

The only thing Dirk still felt was his head. He clenched his jaw till it hurt, reminding him that he was alive, though his mind drifted in the haze of delirium. Drenched in sweat, with each breath feeling weaker than the last. He swam in the helplessness and realized that he had blacked out many more times since the last. The display’s numbers jumped too erratically to lower values to indicate anything else.

By abandoning his past, he had been set free. But by pursuing his vendetta, the freedom of this vast open space around him had become a prison of its own. His cold rage had led him here, locked inside this humanoid-shaped coffin. He even went back and forth between considerations to open the armor and instantly die, or quietly float away into the sleep of unconsciousness and death. He loathed the prospect of arguing with the computer to override safety measures just to kill himself.

He must have blacked out again, because—out of nowhere—a transport vessel glided to a halt near him. Although one of the smaller interstellar ships of this generation, it loomed over him like a giant, menacing monolith. Shining lights on its bow swept their rays over him and blinded him, causing him to cringe and black out again.

He awoke again in the cargo bay of the transporter. He still could not feel anything from the neck down. Instead of the vast nothingness of space, he was engulfed in the bright artificial light of the ship’s interior, drawing the silhouette of a feminine, short-haired figure standing over him. She crouched down next to him, and he heard her familiar voice.

“Here I go and let you escape death yet again,” Kjalla said. Although Dirk could not see it because her countenance was a mere shadow in the light, he sensed that her lips had curled into one of her cruel smiles again.

He drifted in and out of consciousness. Someone had unsealed his exo-suit and removed the helmet. Breathable air—it burned in his lungs, but felt so good. Even stale, yet it tasted fresh.

When he felt a tingle in his fingertips, he thought they might have twitched in response to his brain sending signals to move them. He felt that he had been stripped completely out of the exo-suit. Underneath him was a cold, hard steel floor. He sputtered, “W-why?”

His eyes regained some focus, allowing him to see hints of her scarred, pale face and light blue lips as they formed a question, “Why what?”

“You don’t need me anymore. Why save me? Why show mercy?”

Either a long pause followed, or Dirk blacked out yet again. His eyes fluttered open and shut every now and then, trying to block out the brightness of the harsh lights, because his eyes hurt even more than his lungs.

“This is no mercy,” she finally said. “You gave me the opportunity to set King Shahan’s kingdom ablaze and make him watch. I will make him suffer. For that, I intend to repay you. You will bear witness to his suffering so you know that it was not in vain. But everything in this universe has its price, so along the way, you, too, will suffer.”

She reached out over him, and his vision began to recover more clarity. He saw the paleness and scars all over the skin of her arm as it crept closer. Her fingers glided through the skin of his stomach and into it without resistance, like someone sticking their hand into the surface of a pool of water. Her hairless brow furrowed and Kjalla’s demeanor showed strained concentration.

“Hold still. This is going to hurt,” she muttered through her teeth.

Before he was healed by her sorcery, his screams echoed throughout the bowels of the ship. Screams of pain, mingling with screams of realization. Death would not come easy to him on this path.

Death would not be a sweet release from the prison he had chosen for himself.

—Submitted by Wratts

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gulf-career-hunt · 4 years ago

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Chief Executive Dubai UAE

Position: Chief Executive Date posted: 2021-02-13 Industry: Shipbuilding and ship repair Employment type: Full Time Experience: minimum 20 year Qualification: Bachelor’s Degree Holder Salary: AED 10000 to 20000 Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates Company: Confidential Description: Hiring Chief Executive Shipbuilding and ship repair Inter ocean ship engineering service a newly…

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#Chief Executive

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juanpablotapia-blog · 4 years ago

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Inter Ocean Ship Repair LLC (IOSR) Job Vacancies | Dubai https://tinyurl.com/yxn6o7pj #dubai #inter #iosr #job #llc #ocean #repair #ship #vacancies

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mischievouscourtfae · 8 years ago

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Rosaline’s Long History

The Wild Boy Hellion (Ros/Rossie)

Born in the late 1500s

Raised in a pirate seaside town

Spent youth hunting “mighty beasts”

Always brought back his trophies to show dad

Always barefoot

The Pirate King (Ros/Rossie)

Teen and young adult years

Late 1600s through 1750s

First mate to father Rottenbeard then got own ship

Barefoot and shirtless and dressed in layered skirts

Covered in gold, pearls, and slowly gaining tattoos

Would hunt Kraken and other Monsters

Epic Quests for glory and adoration

Drink hard, Gamble freely, Fight everything

First true love, Mermaid Zeesy

Favored weapon a large barbed fishing spear

1703 Rottenbeard settles down and founds LazyTown

The Autumn Lady (Rossie/Rosaline)

Late 1700s through 1900

Spent time learning from the Dryads and singing with them

Took the Dryad Bláth Óg as a lover

Spent more and more time from the ocean

Learned patience and long planning

Had first child, Ronnie

Took up the Mantle of Autumn Lady and began duties

Left the Dryads

Meets Gladiel who was fleeing Winter and takes him as a vessel

Spent time among the humans (late victorian era)

(Fidget born? Unknown, taken to Autumn Town)

Had last child Robbie with a businessman

1903 the War begins with LazyTown Massacre

War Time ~100 years (Rossie/Rosaline)

The Queens of Summer and Winter are slowly taken over by corruption

Rossie teams up with Spring to oppose both Summer and Winter

Keeps the young Robbie and Ronnie by her side and tries to train them

Takes Gaspara as her protege

She’d had little time to herself during the war

What time she did have was spent at gambling halls

She fell in love with Flapper Culture

Autumn Queen falls and Rossie becomes Queen

Gaspara becomes Rossie’s Lady and they become closer

Final battle, Rossie helps to kill her old friend Summer Queen Dey

The long and painful clean up begins

The Autumn Queen (Rossie/Rosaline)

Early 2000s and beyond

Appoints Ronald to the new Autumn Knight

Appoints Gladiel to Autumn Lord

Spends Robbie to reclaim LazyTown from the ruins

Discovers missing child, Fidget

Begins the process or repairing the land and Court

Rebuilding population and inter Court relationships

Begins increased relations rebuilding with Summer and Winter

Convincing long-held grudges to dissipate is hard work

#rosaline #rossie's timeline #fae history #from pirate to queen

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revpanikbedlam · 8 years ago

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The stars did not twinkle or shimmer as they did on Earth, and for that reason they seemed infinitely more distant and unreachable. The ship's atmosphere was not nearly as dense as it was on that small blue planet, so those impossible to hold gems did not flicker as they did when seen in far off observatories. That nebulous glow made the stars seem friendly and especially close when viewed through the fractal-convergence telescopes built into the tall castle spires of the Somek At'Grallah, but here in the void of sub-etheral space they seemed like aliens.

But however distant, these stars became slightly more obtainable as Queen Iste-Hulwa moved ever closer towards those distant points of light in her crystal ship. Thus the stellar frigate roared through space on its heading, leaving a glowing trail of rainbows in the dark which dissolved slowly into the infinite depths of the intergalactic ocean.

Iste surveyed the sky, looking for any constellations she might recognize, but having traveled so far from her terrestrial home all the sky was distorted from this far off point of reference. She looked perplexed at the glowing altar at the top of the steep step pyramid that served as the helm, then looked back into the ornate gazebo that stood behind her. Focusing her attention on the huge chunk of polished amber that sat glowing on a hallowed pedestal at its center, she spoke to it directly.

“Pom, I can't tell if we're still on the correct heading. The console is giving me mixed readings and I never had much of an eye for Oneiromantic Astrogation. The sub-ether of the Dream-Zone might be a faster way of traveling between distant galaxies but the math to understand it is lost on me.”

A small humanoid silhouette shifted inside the resinous gem before a larger, shadowy simulacrum was projected from it, which then responded with an astute but echoing sing-song.

“And not much of a mind for hyper-spacial sacred geometry either. I'm sure the scholars of Atlantis would be disappointed that you've forgotten all your elementary lessons, but luckily you have other talents to compensate.” The form moved close to Iste and playfully added, “As well as friends to crunch the numbers for you.”

Iste smiled at the shadow of the dryad with whom she had shared a long friendship. She preferred when Pom would manifest her form, for it made the trip seem a little less lonely. She also had to admit that her ghostly visage was a beautiful work of art that always filled her heart with joy no matter how many times she looked upon it. With her lithe pointed features of astral umbra and smoky white vines of hair, the illusion that was Pom's body appeared as an alluring fascination with its slight translucence that was yet opaquely impenetrable.

Pom's true body was the seed of life bound in the fossilized heart of a once potent magical tree in her homeland, but Iste had always thought the astral-projection of Pom's own self-image was the truer form. It was a mystery of darkness within darkness, a mien of obsidian glass in which she was shrouded. And although the dryad was perhaps only a shade darker than the Atlantean's own more physical flesh, as most Atlanteans were, the fey's hologram lacked living warmth. This sheen of undeath lent Pom a spectral coolness that was fearful to some but was beheld by Iste as supernal wonder.

“I'm sure the High Philosophers are rolling in their watery graves, but that hardly answers my question,” Iste shot back at the elfin shade. “I do have a quest to attend to and it would be nice to know if we're on course.”

Pom-Hymenaea sighed cheerfully and moved in position before the helm, drawing up an array of stars and grids projected in lights over the altar console. She studied them for a moment and said, “As best as I can determine we are on course. Unfortunately, your old friend didn't leave us much to follow when he sailed off beyond the sunset.”

Indeed it was true that wondrous scientist and Grand Master, Ji Qi-Miao, had abandoned his throne almost two hundred years ago. He had left to seek the dreams of distant alien worlds with little hint of where his intended destination would be. An appropriate retirement adventure for someone of his power and intelligence, but he had taken with him the Chart, an ancient mapping device made with the most advanced of crystal magic.

It had been something of a gift, for Iste understood the difficulty of navigating the void without a guide, so Qi-Miao accepted it gratefully as he tripped off into the light fantastic. However, the Chart had also been an important tool in determining the placement of the one hundred Crystal Resonators, which mapped their hidden locations. Thus, without the Chart, the whereabouts of these magic transmitters was unknown to Iste and all of the sacred knights of the Somek At'Grallah.

This lack of knowledge put their order in a difficult position. The Crystal Resonators had been a collaborative work of divided labor, and with Qi retired beyond the stars the protection of the resonators fell on Iste. Yet it had been Qi-Miao alone who had been trusted to hide these devices through the terrestrial cosmos. Iste was quick to admit that the eccentric inventor was a cunning trickster, and she could not even begin to guess where the devices might have been interred.

Qi-Miao had derived the divine clockwork that caused the resonators to chime at the correct mystical frequency, and Iste had cut the crystals to hold the quality of perfect psychic harmony. Up to this point, they had successfully served as “spirit granaries” to store and distribute positive energies and draw off and cleanse negative powers. The crystals would absorb bad vibes, converting them into benevolent psychic forces that the dreamers of the world could unconsciously tap. But recently problems with the system had arisen.

They had been hidden specifically so they would not be tampered with, and as they were self-maintaining it should have been a simple matter, placing them and leaving them without thought of finding them again. Qi-Miao had modified the function of the Chart to track them, but Iste herself had insisted that he take it with him as she thought the loss of it wasn't of any hazard.

And for the last two hundred years, it hadn't been a loss of any consequence. However, when it was discovered that the demonic beings of the Diablo-Infernum had found a small number of the Crystal Resonators and manipulated them to serve their goals, the unfortunate repercussions of Iste's present to Qi-Miao became apparent. The demons quickly began to corrupt the resonators which infected the entire energy network with malicious vibrations. This served to exaggerate the nightmare side of humanity.

The mystic-scientists of Somek At'Grallah detected the change in cosmic vibrations, but only after this plot had been put into motion. By the time it was discovered, they calculated that no less than three of the hidden resonators had been rededicated towards the intent of psychotic malice. Iste-Hulwa had taken this terrorist attack personally, and immediately sought out the parties responsible. Although not acting alone, it was determined that the Demon Lord of the Fourteenth Hell, Messier Filbaskist, had used his understanding of the “in-between places” to put a number of the devices under the Infernum's control.

Iste engaged the Devil in combat and though he escaped into the dark of the bottomless pit at the lowest point of Hell, she was able to discover the nature of their plot which the 22 Demon Lords had dubbed the “Lethe Gambit.” With the Crystal Resonators still hidden from the Somek At'Grallah, and thus sitting out of reach and beyond repair, Iste-Hulwa determined that seeking out Ji Qi-Miao and recovering the Chart was the only possibility for salvation.

“We've now passed out of psychic communication range, we are now in the true Deep-Aether,” Pom reported, as Iste repeated the details of her mission in her head for the hundredth time.

“Oh, excellent,” Iste replied, pulled back to the present. “Please check atmospheric and life support systems.”

Pom drifted down the stairs at the fore of the temple-helm and danced over the grass that grew on the surface of their floating island. From above the 'deck' of their ship, its shape appeared like a teardrop, with the temple in the aft centered between a semi-circle of standing stones. Pale and titanic, the rough-hewn monuments exuded a lovely rolling fog like giant shards of dry ice. She examined the stones, then returned to the base of the stairs where a three-tiered marble fountain sprayed misty torrents of water into dripping basins. She gazed into the pools with intense scrutiny paying particular attention to the roll of bubbles churning within.

Satisfied with her inspection, she returned to the helm and reported. “The Quartz-Menhir are successfully generating an artificial dream-synthesis field providing full environmental containment, and external shields are at 98%. The fountain is producing viable terrestrial atmosphere, although it appears that the greenhouse on level 3 of the temple structure is not receiving enough light; so I'll be redistributing additional energy to the lamps. Final report: all life and psychic support systems functioning at full.”

Iste took a deep breath and took one last look over the console. “Excellent. However, do a physical examination of the lamps in greenhouse three. It would be difficult to re-establish any crops if they were lost, and they're vital for the long term life support of a trip like this. Once you've done that if there is nothing else to report, fix the heading and dismiss yourself. If I need anything else I'll call you.”

“Very well Captain,” Pom said with a chuckle before vanishing in an ethereal inkblot splatter.

Iste walked down the temple stairs and past the fountain, looking back and once again noting how much the temples of Atlantis resembled those of the later Aztec. She supposed that it was not technically an Atlantean temple as it was built by the Somek At'Grallah in the Higher Realm many millennia after The Fall. However, the “Earth” beneath her feet was, in fact, one of the last shards of the island of Atlantis.

It was a relatively small slab of geode recovered from when that island shattered and sank so long ago, and its huge crystal tetragons and natural points that clustered at its ventral aft radiated with metaphysical tornadoes of prismatic light. These energized crystals not only projected the hull through space and naturally generated the ship's power, but also served to illuminate the verdant deck of The Axis Mundi. Thus this last Atlantean Starship was brilliantly lit from about its rim by way of rippling waves of aurora borealis.

She gazed into these electromagnetic pulses of color and realized it was not the northern lights that she was reminded of, but the strange sky over the city of her youth. Iste recalled how those purple clouds of the dream-zone could be visually seen, rife with rainbow lightning surges that filled the air with the smell of sweet orchids. It had been a very long time since the people of Earth had so directly and collectively viewed the dreaming tempest while waking, and for the first time in a long time, she felt homesick for the land of her birth.

She navigated between the small knolls formed by the sacred burial mounds that had been placed in honor of that island's fallen. They framed a small winding path which terminated in a pointed overhanging cliff that served as the ship's bow. On this ledge sat a large, round, basalt sculpture which she had placed there long ago, providing the maidenhead for the ship when it was built. It resembled those stone heads produced by the Olmec, though its creation had preceded that culture somewhat and its face was more feminine. With a sudden bound, she gracefully jumped twelve feet into the air and landed delicately on the center of the fifty-ton monument, settling into a relaxed, seated position upon the crown of the head and stared wistfully into space.

“Why come out this far Qi?” she asked of her absent friend. “Was the beauty of our Earth and its heavenly realms not enough for you to focus your genius upon?”

With a sigh of lament, she continued. “And how do I even know that we are on the right path? All you did was point to the sky at a bright white star on the southern horizon, and like Peter Pan, told me 'straight on til morning' was your destination. So long ago you made that gesture, I was lucky to have remembered the astrological house to which you pointed and narrowed the possibilities from there. If only I had a hint or horoscope to tell me if I was on the right track.”

Closing her eyes and reaching out with her mind, she wished for a sign. She knew such simple enchantments were a somewhat childish bit of knavery, but just as the lesser mortals pray to keep heart, it was a spelling cast without air of expectation; nothing more than a purely expressed desire to see her friend again.

As she opened her eyes she saw the answer to her request just in time to react to it, touching the activation gems on the ornate disks that covered her ears. From those large earrings, her tall crowned battle helm instantly unfolded about her head just as a metal sphere about a full foot in diameter erupted through the ship's glowing force field and struck her armored brow with incredible force.

The impact rang against her helm like the grandest bells upon the highest mountain monasteries, and with an explosion of sound, sent Iste flying backwards over the twisting mounds where she landed in the ship's fountain with a splash. For all her abilities, if not for the powers held in her armor, she would have been knocked unconscious or even killed from the unexpected strike but instead, she was only momentarily dazed. Shaking off the staggering hit, she climbed out of the fountain and began searching for the orb that had laid the blow.

Pom appeared suddenly. “Queen Iste! Are you all right?! Long distance scans had detected no foreign objects prior to the impact breech. Do you require medical attention?”

“It's okay Pom, I'm fine. Just a tad disoriented, but not hurt,” Iste said a little out of breath, but still scanning for the object. “I thought you said our shields were functioning at capacity.”

Sheepishly, the spectral dryad admitted, “Technically I stated that shields were at 98%, which is technically functioning capacity, statistically speaking. Technically.”

As Pom spoke, Iste discovered the rogue projectile, which seemed to be made out of a brass-like metal with several seams dividing the sphere into a number of irregularly shaped segments. Although there was a slight scuff indented into the orb where it had struck her, it seemed generally unharmed and was cold to the touch.

“Well this looks like a technical two percent shield failure if I ever saw one,” she joked, hoping that Pom would not take the mishap personally. “Besides, I have something of a suspicion that I may have accidentally 'asked' for this. Although please check the system records to see if we can prevent future problems of this type.”

With a smile, a salute, and an “Aye, Captain,” Pom vanished again, leaving Iste to examine the Orb.

Iste removed her helm which folded back into her earrings, and she carried the metal artifact to the bottom of the temple stairs. Standing on the stone platform at its base, she stated, “Open Private Quarters.” Upon hearing the command, a circle of stone descended downward like a lift from the point where she stood. Reaching the inside of the ship, she traveled through a short hall adorned with strange electric bulbs that erratically sparked, dimly lighting the ancient hieroglyphs that colored the walls.

Her room was large and imperial with fine sweeping curtains, huge velvet cushions, and glorious tapestries. She walked past these comforts and instead approached a long stone workbench placed in the corner. It was covered with both conventional and more eldrich tools so she took a moment to select a few that she would need out of the clutter and cleared a spot to work.

She set the sphere on the bench and proceeded to her wardrobe. Although her ornate battle suit was environmentally sealed, keeping her dry from the neck down, her hair had gotten wet in the water of the fountain. Thus she decided a little bit of comfort provided by more relaxed clothes would offer help sharpening her mind before pursuing the object's secrets.

When removed and folded, the armor took on the vague look of a green eagle statuette as that was the outfit's prime motif with its sweeping metallic arm draperies and wing designs that spiraled about the skirt. She was happy to remove the piles of heavy gemstone beads that were wrapped in strings over top of a hidden electrified scarf which flowed into a white shawl about her shoulders. This tall, necklace-adorned gaiter stretched all the way up her long thin neck reaching just below her chin and was mildly uncomfortable. However, its discomfort was not only for the sake of serving as a beautiful adornment but, like the Quartz-Menhir that provided the ship's life support systems, this gaiter provided her a degree of localized atmosphere and protection from psychic attack.

Her hair was tied up in a forward sloping bun which sat over top her long, deep auburn bangs. She always felt the style, common to the women of the native Seminole, was still a becoming and modern look. She pulled the rings at the ends of her bejeweled hairpins which held the twist of braids in place, and it took some time to brush out the large volume of textured locks, but once free they hung down straight, glistening darkly. Once it was sufficiently dry she took a long green scarf from her dresser and wrapped her hair in the manner of a simple but elegant tignon.

She took a moment to admire her body in a long mirror. Although many uncounted centuries had washed over her countenance, her form was preserved in an appearance of a becomingly voluptuous thirty-something by way of her people's mystic sciences. Not a true immortal, she was still more than merely mortal; ageless and incredibly healthy. She smiled at the curve of her magnificent wide hips and drew her hands down the lines of her contour.

Exhibitionism was a common practice of her ancient people, as well as the people of Somek At'Grallah. Thus it was a regular sight in her culture to go partially or even fully nude, expressing the airs of both bodily pride and personal liberation. Yet Iste had always felt that fine clothes had added a tone of nobility to one's presence, and even if alone in her room, she decided that her matching green tunic and casual purple toga gave a sense of personal decorum.

While her regal lack of modesty caused her to hazard one more adoring glance into the mirror to admire her backside before dressing, she felt that she had indulged her vanity long enough. Even in private, she felt too much of that behavior led to the type of aristocratic arrogance she found unbecoming of true nobility.

It was better to simply let the ritual dressing be the period of self-idolization to laud oneself with fine fabrics and perfumes. She cloaked the toga about her, anointed her head with scented oils, powdered the pink of her hands and feet with fine talc, and then proceeded to her task at the work bench, where the peculiar bronzed rondure waited for her.

Iste looked it over first with a magnifying glass and then a jeweler's loupe before tapping it imploringly with a tuning fork and listening closely. She poked and prodded it carefully for a little over an hour before she sat back and looked at it perplexed and grumbled, “What are you?”

As if responding to her question the metallic ball whirred into life, rolling about the work bench before Iste could stop it and with a series of sudden clicks, the surface of the orb began to undulate and crack like an egg before the shell twisted and turned into a new shape. And from out of this egg unfurled a tiny clockwork man of humorous proportion; having a head the size of its body with large, round, inquisitive eyes and stubby little arms and legs which seemed to flail about uncontrollably at first until it found its footing.

It was by far not the most astounding thing she had ever seen, but it was endearing in its minor wonderfulness and she looked at it with a gleeful smile. The automation quickly noticed her watching him and shouted at her with a tiny metal voice.

“What am I? What art you? Questions, questions! That I'm not a difference engine makes no difference! Questions, questions! What lack of courtesy! Questions, questions right from the start! Not even a greeting! No hello's or how are ye's, but questions, questions from the start!”

Even though the mechanical man was obviously quite slighted, Iste found herself grinning all the more in spite of herself. However, she didn't want to offend the tiny automaton and she stood to give a slight and respectful bow as she stated, “I am Queen Iste-Hulwa, First of the knights of Somek At'Grallah, Northern Faction of the Higher Realms of the Terrestrial Space. I greet you and welcome you to my ship, the Axis-Mundi. Please, my dear sir, tell me who you are and how you came to be floating through the depths of the Deep-Aether.”

The metal man paused but the sound of spinning gears whined from within him, and then with a curtsy, he began to tick in a manner that reminded Iste of a purring cat.

“My name is Tattler, and I was a servant of the Former Grand Master, Ji Qi-Miao. He constructed me as he sailed this space upon the back of his magnificent clockwork whale. I was made to act as his journal, alarm clock, and secretary; but when he encountered a school of transcendental-krakens, I fell overboard in the battle. He must have believed me destroyed, for he never came back for me. With no means of propulsion, I went into sleep mode and have thus slept until you awoke me.”

This information pleased Iste and she said, “It is a delight to meet you, Tattler. I was a friend of your master, Ji Qi-Miao, and it is he who I am seeking now. If you are willing to help me, perhaps we can find him together.”

Tattler stopped ticking and his gears whirred for a moment as he said, “Calculating, calculating, calculating...” Until finally, he said, “Indeed, I will help you. Although I would appreciate a full oiling before any difficult questions are asked, my gears have grown stiff in my slumber.”

With a smile, Iste agreed, and after looking through her tools found some machine oil and got Tattler feeling a bit more limber. She even found some polish and did her best to brush out the scuff that their first meeting had left on the back of his head, although a small dent still remained. Minor indentation aside, it became obvious that Tattler felt instantly better to be oiled and polished, as he bounced around happily for the basic maintenance.

“So, Tattler,” Iste began. “You said that Qi had designed you to be his journal, does that mean you know where he was trying to go?”

Tattler scurried about as if he was ignoring her to look for something. “Oh yes, I know where he wanted to go. We were almost there in fact when we were attacked, but then he fled the beasts when it became apparent he was outnumbered and he vanished from my long range visual scanners.”

“You have long range visual scanners?” Iste asked politely, suddenly curious what powers the petite android possessed.

In a moment of pride, the metal man pranced about and chimed, “Why yes I do! I do! I do! I am fully capable of 500 times magnification, deep field observation, independent focus, and direct to point survey! Behold!” Reaching up as far as his tiny arms would reach, he pressed two rose colored buttons on his cheeks and with a sudden clapping sound, his huge crystal eyes suddenly protruded almost two feet from out of his head on a set of tubes.

The sudden unfolding gave the somewhat cartoon impression that he had seen something startling, and the force of their projection pushed Tattler back causing him to fall into a seated position. The eyes seemed to rotate in opposition as if they were both fighting to look in different directions, which required Iste to stifle a giggle as the lenses googled wildly at her.

Iste wasn't sure how to react and was confused by what he was showing her until she realized his eyes were actually a set of high powered, telescoping spyglasses. Iste stared for a moment without saying a word but could suddenly sense the little man was feeling a bit exposed and embarrassed by her lack of response so she quickly exclaimed, “Wow!” as sincerely as possible and then added, “Oh my, that is very impressive. So you're a lookout too? Does that mean you saw where Qi-Miao went even after you had been lost?”

Tattler's chest swelled with a sudden puff of steam and he cheerfully touched his cheeks to retract his eyes before responding. “Yes, I saw. For it seemed that he was drawn into a distant cosmic vortex just short of his goal, for Levee his whale was injured and unable to fight the current. Where it drew him off to I cannot say, but I could likely direct you to it so long as you took on the same heading. He was attempting to reach a certain star in the Carina constellation ofArgo Navis, in hopes of discovering a particular theoretical planet in orbit around the star Canopus, which was also called Ariki to some who gave it spiritual significance. This star was considered to be the southern polar star by the Ming Astrologer, Xu Guanggi, who noted it to be the most important star in the configuration of The Vermilion Bird of the South. But in secret star-maps of Xu Guanggi, acquired by Master Qi-Miao, there were also implications that within this system was a great source of magnetic consciousness which...”

As Tattler tried to finish what he was saying, he was interrupted by a sudden lurch of the ship. Before either of them could react a huge crashing noise accompanied a tremendous shaking that knocked them both onto the floor. The lights hummed and undulated as a loud series of blasting zaps roared out above them.

“Pom! Status? Report!” Iste shouted with calm authority as she got to her feet.

Pom immediately appeared although she was obviously still occupied simultaneously on the bridge, for her form was translucent and not all together there. “I'm not sure Captain! We seem to be under attack by invisible forces. Shields seem to be slowing down whatever it is but not holding them off and basic countermeasures seem ineffective. Weapon systems cannot lock in on an exact target. I've begun open barrage, but whatever it is it seems immune to our lasers.”

Iste grimaced. “Very well Pom, proceed with evasive maneuvers and full barrage. Attempt to overpower shields between volleys and see if that will push whatever it is off.”

Tattler scuttled across the floor, diving into the pile of cushions. “Not again! Not again! It is the Transcendental Space Krakens! Not again! I only just got out of the void, I do not want to be cast back into it so soon! Not again! Not again!”

Iste shouted at the pile of pillows. “Tattler! Pom said lasers aren't effective. If these are the Space-Krakens you faced before, did they show any weakness that you can recall?”

“They seemed immune to almost all attacks, only Levee's psychic sonar scream seemed to scare them off. It was just enough for the Master and her to get away.”

“Only vulnerable to direct psychic attack?” She chuckled confidently and grinned wide in spite of herself. “I suppose I'll just take care of this myself, then.”

With a swift, extravagant twirl, Iste unveiled herself in a singular motion. The folds of her garments floated down around her like autumn leaves, and Tattler's eyes shot out again as he watched Iste's form appear before him, nude and impeccable.

Falling into a short and distinct kata of elegantly choreographed dance, her movements were accented by the singing of a ghostly song that possessed an antediluvian quality. The ship shook and tilted and the artificial gravity failed sporadically. Various objects bounced across the room, falling and floating erratically. However, Istemoved gracefully by maintaining her own sense of reference, detached from space as the Axis-Mundi spun about her.

As her dance ended, she thrust her arms out to her sides and the green eagle statuette unfurled its wings and flew to her. Unfolding itself and then wrapping around her as it met her touch, she was again adorned in her ornate suit of mystical armor. Tapping her earrings, her head was encased in her heavy battle helm. Armed and armored she ran down the hall to the stone lift, shouting back over her shoulder, “Stay here and try to be safe, Tattler!”

The tiny automation remained buried deep in his pile of pillows but chirped loud in response. “Will do! Will do!” as he tried to shove his eyes back into his head.

As Iste rode the lift to the deck of her ship, she gripped in her right hand what appeared to be a large crystal point approximately a foot long. The points themselves were exposed and glistening prisms, but the center of the crystal appeared to be wrapped in leather held in place by twists of gold wire. This gold was braided at the ends, creating a series of thick, ornate cables which formed an elegant basket hilt like that of a saber.

She drew an electronic gun-shaped device out of a holster on her hip. Its barrel was a long pipe with several metallic bulbs near the end which terminated with a setting like that of an oversized wedding ring. In that setting was placed a red diamond larger than a fist, and it glowed with an energy that flickered across Iste's bright tan eyes as she exited from the ship's cabin.

Set in vivid darkness against the ship's blaze of northern lights were obvious yet unseen tendrils of nothingness, each wrapping themselves about the vessel. Iste glanced up the temple stairs where Pom drifted between several manifestations in order to operate the helm's console from several angles at once. She sensed that the limbs of this ethereal beast were seeking to strike at the ship's controls, but the outward push of the dryad's aura seemed to drive the unseen menace from its goal.

Iste knew that Pom's amber crystal radiated a raw telepsychic field as she projected her image, and although it was typically harmless to most beings she noted that the monster recoiled from the gem. Seeing this, she grinned as she realized that this confirmed Tattler's guess; that these Deep-Aether squids were susceptible to heightened mental energies.

Her heart pounded hard in a slow rhythm as she asked herself how long it had been since she had last been in the fray. Too long had she been trapped in the halls of power amid naught but pomp and circumstance. The diplomacy and politics of the aristocratic life had been her charge in hopes of maintaining the order of the higher realms. Yet she was now far and away from that place, and her body sang as the joy of battle gripped her; a warrior's hymn from elder lands long lost tasted like honey on her lips as she leapt into the sky.

The segmented metallic draperies that ran from the center of her back to the bracers of her gloved gauntlets erupted in a pink field of energy. This field was as solid as her armor and unfurled from her limbs as a set of rose colored wings. On these, she soared into the air like an angel to meet her foe. Realizing the beast was not to be seen by the light of mortal eyes, she closed her lids gently as she continued to ascend, singing boldly. Looking within, she saw the thing: gargantuan, bulbous, and lurid.

At first it appeared to be three monstrous cephalopods, each with a singular bulging red eye and several toothy beaked maws. But then she saw that the creature was a sort of hydra, one horror with three heads awkwardly bound together in grizzly folds of gathering mantle. From this macabre swell of fetid flesh, scores of maliciously spiked tentacles emanated, each dripping with acrid ectoplasm. Those tendrils not entangled about her ship were now reaching to halt her ascent, yet at the summit of her flight she sang the verse of victory in her ancient song and from the crystal handle of her blade-less sword flared a brilliant crackle of lightning.

From that minor storm, a rainbow brand rippling with a surging current of eldrich force erupted from that crystal hilt. Singing still, she spun in the air like the most masterful dancer and cut free a number of the creature's reaching pseudopod. The Kraken thrashed in pain bludgeoning the ship which careened wildly out of control despite Pom's vigilant efforts. The Axis Mundi filled the void with a vivid display of lights as batteries of lasers pulsed wildly into the distance with a thick ozone smell.

Iste dove down hard and fast in pursuit of the dreadful squid, driving her sword into the eye of the central head. As she punched through the membrane, it exploded in a wretched splatter that filled Iste's mind with awful visions, and her ears rang with the lingering psychic screams of the creature's past victims. Iste was caught off guard by the hallucinogenic images inspired by the being's spiritual gore spilled on her in melee, and the two remaining heads took the opening to strike.

It hit her in the center of the chest, driving her down into the stairs of the temple with a cracking of stone. Her head swam, but she fought off unconsciousness. She lifted her blaster to take aim but discovered the crystal had insufficient charge from the long period of disuse. She sought to sing but her diaphragm cramped in a pain that seized her breath, failing to notice that the wind had been knocked out of her in the heat of combat. combat. Iste gasped for her words as the pistol clicked uselessly in her hand.

The creature roared in a shrill whine just beyond her ability to hear, but in the lag of its scream, she could hear its bellowing shout in a deep residual hum that made the whole of the ship vibrate violently. For a brief moment, Iste felt a shock of fear as she could hear loud crackling sounds as the crystals that composed her ship began to shake themselves apart. The adrenaline that coursed through her veins finally drew her abdominal muscles back under her command and her chest once again filled with air.

She cried out with a sudden and beauteous crescendo, singing forcefully from her diaphragm, and the singular perfect note filled her blaster with energy. With a small tornado of glowing rings circling about the gun's diamond barrel, a brilliant torrent of radiant plasma ripped into the creature tearing the left head from its body. The creature itself was now gripped quite obviously with fear of its opponent, and let go of the ship. But this left the ship in free fall as it tumbled through the void. The creature attempted to descend with full force into Iste as she stood poised on the steps of the temple-helm.

Again the warrior of Atlantis and First Knight of Somek At'Grallah stood firm, shouting out with a loud kia followed by a glorious trill of song. From this melody she fueled a barrage of blaster fire, and amidst the flurry of prismatic strikes from her sword, the Transcendental-Kraken made a last effort to drive its immense bulk into her.

The stone stairs below her feet began to shatter and sent broken shards up about her. But her aura blazed bright as the sun and the strength of her mettle became a psychic shield of willpower, a perfect barrier set about her through which the monster could not pass.

With a last shrieking knell, the Kraken fell into a writhing death-roll which it used to fall into her with all its might, but in vain. In this last moment, the integrity of its body failed and in a sickeningly abhorrent mass, the creature discorporated. As it spontaneously turned into a viscous fluid it rained down onto the ship, smearing it with an ethereal slime that spattered across the deck and trailed behind them.

For a moment, Iste was overwhelmed by the hallucinogenic ectoplasm and fell faint into nightmare visions of remembrance. She was forced to recall other violent battles, wars with foes that had once been her friends. Exaggerated horrors created from her personal failings that swelled up from her long lived past, and the heart of all her fears: memories of her sinking homeland as the crystals below her feet shattered and the sky as she knew it vanished from her sight above.

“Iste! Iste! Wake up! By all the Animal Masters, Iste wake up!” The voice cut through the fog of miserable memories. “Iste! The ship is holding together but just barely. Many of the power crystals cracked and some of them even shattered. We're having trouble maintaining atmosphere and life support!”

Looking into the translucent umbra of the dryad's face, Iste remembered where she was. “All right, let me gather myself. The systems are damaged but not knocked out, so we just have to remain calm and start regeneration protocols. What about navigation, where are we? Where are we going?”

Pom looked pensive and with a deep frown said, “The engines are completely out. We're in full speed drift without steering.”

Iste tried to maintain composure, but she had to admit the situation was dire. As she tried to decide as to the next course of action, she noticed Tattler exiting the lift and climbing the stairs to join her, although the steepness of the steps provided him extreme difficulty. His awkward ascent made her smile despite circumstance, but she moved down the stairs to help him.

But it only took a few steps before she realized that she had to struggle herself. Her armor was resilient, but the nigh-physical power of the beast had managed to exceed its endurance. She seemed to have broken a rib or two in the fight, thus found herself sitting on the steps again trying to catch her breath.

The clockwork companion reached her, climbed into her lap and asked, “Is the danger over?”

Iste nodded to him with a light smile. “It is, but our ship is so damaged that our expedition is probably going to have to be halted until we are able to make appropriate repairs. Searching for Ji Qi-Miao will have to wait.”

Extending his telescoping eyes outward, he glanced off in the direction that the ship seemed to be drifting before retracting them again. In a happy tone, Tattler gave a chiming report. “Oh no, oh no, don't you worry about that. Damaged or not our ship is still in pursuit of my master. If you look you'll see, we approach the same cosmic vortex into which he and Levee fell!”

Watching as Tattler pointed off into space, Iste shot a worried glance at Pom who vanished to the ship's helm and returned in a flash.

“He's right,” the dryad somberly reported. “We're being drawn towards an unidentifiable spacial anomaly. Advanced analysis indicates no conclusions about the nature of the aberration, but early readings do suggest that it may be a cosmic vortex.”

Although a mild sense of dread lingered, Iste found herself amused more than fearful. "Wonderful,” she said with a reassuring grin. “At least we're on the right track.”

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courtneytincher · 5 years ago

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U.S. Navy’s largest shipbuilder gets $136 million submarine contract modification

The U.S. Navy’s largest shipbuilder, Huntington Ingalls, has been awarded a $136 million contract modification to exercise options for a variety of services on the USS Columbus (SSN 762), according to a statement issued Thursday by the Department of Defense.

The modification to the cost-plus-fixed-fee contract involves the performance of the repair, maintenance, upgrades and modernization efforts on the USS Columbus (SSN 762) Engineered Overhaul.

“Work will be performed in Newport News, Virginia, and is expected to be complete by November 2020,” the Department of Defense message states.

USS Columbus is the 51st Los Angeles-class submarine and the 12th improved version of this class, which includes a vertical launch system for Tomahawk cruise missiles and an improved hull design for under-ice operations. In June 1994, she completed a post-shipyard maintenance availability in Groton, Conn., after initial construction and shakedown operations. In September 1994, the ship conducted an inter-fleet transfer to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and joined the U.S. Pacific Fleet Submarine Force.

The USS Columbus is a flexible, multi-mission platform designed to carry out the seven core competencies of the submarine force: anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface warfare, irregular warfare, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and mine warfare. It is 377 feet long, 34 feet wide, and weighs nearly 7,800 tons. It is powered by a nuclear reactor to push the boat through the water at speeds of more than 25 knots while submerged.

As the most modern and sophisticated attack submarine in the world, the Columbus can operate in both littoral and deep ocean environments and presents combatant commanders with a broad and unique range of operational capabilities.

from Defence Blog

The modification to the cost-plus-fixed-fee contract involves the performance of the repair, maintenance, upgrades and modernization efforts on the USS Columbus (SSN 762) Engineered Overhaul.

“Work will be performed in Newport News, Virginia, and is expected to be complete by November 2020,” the Department of Defense message states.

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jobdxb · 6 years ago

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Apply to Junior Engineer (Ship Repair) jobs in Inter Ocean Ship Repair, Dubai - United Arab Emirates, 4 to 5 years of experience. Find similar ...

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maritimemanual · 6 years ago

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The Exxon Valdez Oil Spill Incident

Exxon Valdez oil spill was one of the worst accidents involving ocean oil spill. Today, we will uncover the true story behind it.

The indispensability of oil in our day to day lives is unquestionable. The number of industries that are heavily reliant on oil as its source of fuel is vast. But what comes as a blessing, if not handled properly this blessing can turn into a bane.

Over the years with its increased usage it has become a threat to the environment. This is especially due to the improper and careless handling of oil over waterways and accidental spillage. This causes severe distress to the marine life of the region and its nearby areas.

It is important to know that every ecosystem is interconnected. So, when one is disturbed, consequentially the balance in the other ecosystems is disturbed too.

It has been calculated that as much as a few million gallons of oil has been spilled into the oceans, over a period of two centuries, owing to careless handling of oil tankers and rigs. If we take into account the last fifty years or so, the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill is one of the most notorious incidents in the history of oil spillage accidents. Thousands of species were killed when 11 million gallons of oil was released into the Gulf of Alaska. Because of the type of oil that was spilled, it is estimated that the residue of the Exxon Valdez oil spill would be visible on the coast for thirty years.

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What actually happened?

Various investigations were carried out to finally uncover the whole truth of the incident. On March 4, 1989, the oil tanker Exxon Valdez struck the Bligh Reef in the Prince William Sound region of Alaska. The tanker was under the command of Captain Joseph Hazelwood, who was allegedly drunk and was fast asleep in his bunk when the accident occurred. The tanker, loaded with roughly 54 million gallons oil, slammed into the reef at around 12 am local time. In the process, 10.8 million gallons of oil was released into the waters of Prince William Sound. The captain had handed over the ship’s control to the ship’s Third Mate who, unfortunately, failed to maneuver the vessel properly. The tanker collided with the reef causing the hull of the vessel to be torn open.

We cannot fully blame the Third Man for this tragedy. Exxon Valdez, then owned by Exxon Shipping Company, was en route to Long Beach, California from the Valdez Marine Terminal. The route was being taken was known to cause a navigational hazard. Hazelwood, in an attempt to avoid icebergs, had altered the ship’s course. The radar was broken and had been so for more than a year. Hence the Third Mate was unable to control the vessel and ended up colliding with the reef.

Moreover, he was sleep deprived and unqualified for the job. So, it was not the most intelligent thing to do on the captain’s part to give him the job, not that he could have done any better himself, knowing the condition he was in.

There were several other factors that somehow played a part in this tragic incident, which happens to be the second major oil spill in the US territory after the Deepwater Horizon Oil spill. Like many other shipping companies, Exxon too was not following the correct measures as well as taking a route that was not recommended, because of the danger that lay in the path.

Several investigations were carried on and after a year of trial, Hazelwood was finally convicted. He was charged with misdemeanor negligence and the allegations of being drunk during the voyage were removed. He had to pay a fine of $50,000 and serve 1000 hours of community service.

Exon Mobil too charted out a clause in order to prevent further marine accidents like the Exxon Valdez. Strict orders regarding the prescribed shipping routes and lanes were given that were to be followed then onwards. Iceberg monitoring devices were also installed.

Exxon Valdez Cleanup

Impact of Exxon Valdez Oil Spill

As if carelessness in operating the ship and mishandling of the cargo was not enough, there are reports that suggest that there was a delay in the initiation of the clean-up process as well. As a result, despite the accident occurring in the non-continuous coast of Alaska, the impact was much more than what it should have been. 10.8 million gallons of oil was released into the waters of Prince William Sound as 8 of the 11 cargo tanks ruptured when the ship collided with the reef. 250,000 crude oil barrels spread over 1,300 miles of coastline leading to large-scale contamination. Within days the oil spread so fast that it was no longer containable.

As it is global warming was causing problems to the different species across the world, especially those in the cold regions, the oil spill only made things worse. As we already know the disturbance caused to one ecosystem disrupts the balance in all other ecosystems as well because they are all inter-dependent. 2,800 sea otters, up to 300 harbor seals, 250 bald eagles, and at least 22 killer whales died due to human negligence in this major accident.

A countless number of herrings and salmon were also killed. Along with that 250,000 sea birds died. To bring the situation under control, a ban on commercial fishing of some variety of shrimp and salmon was imposed.

The fisheries for crab, herring, rockfish, salmon, and shrimp etc. were also closed in the area. Though this caused the fishing industry and the lives of people associated with it were affected drastically, this was a price that had to be paid.

Recreational fishing was a popular thing in the adjacent areas of Prince William Sound. The entire business was hampered because of the oil spill and its penetration into the waters. This caused the industry to take a hit that summed up to $580 million. Tourism too was also affected, resulting in a record low for almost a year. 26,000 jobs were lost. In short, the oil spill burned $2.4 billion dollars’ worth of business.

All this was just the immediate consequence. The impact that the incident left was long-term. The ecosystem once having been disturbed never got back to the previous state. Exxon Mobil, the owner of the Exxon Valdez was responsible enough to contribute a great deal in the clean-up process along the US Coast Guard, but the damage that it had already caused was not easily repairable. In spite of the fact that years have passed since the incident took place the region has not yet fully recovered from the impact of the oil spill.

The beaches in Alaska are still clogged by the oil discharge of the Exxon Valdez. Since the incident caused a total collapse of the fishing industry the people whose lives were dependent on fishing totally changed. Unemployment led to trauma and broken families that they are yet to recover from. They have succumbed to depression and consequentially alcoholism.

The Clean-up Process

It is a relief to know that the clean-up operation that was carried out was a great success. This is largely due to the fact that the US government acted promptly and so did the owner of the tanker, Exxon Mobil. A total sum of more than $3.8 billion was spent for the clean-up operations as well as for the compensation of the families, especially fishermen whose livelihood was affected by this incident. Over 11,000 personnel were employed, and 58 air crafts and 1,400 vessels were used to clear the contaminated region. The entire operation took around three years (1989-1992). Even now the process has not fully stopped as the coastlines are still continuously monitored in case it showed some late side effects.

The entire clean-up process was a complicated one that involved the relocation of many of the marine species to safeguard them until the waters were clean enough to be inhabitable. They were returned once the waters were thought to be safe for them. Other methods included oil burning, mechanical cleaning, and the use of chemical dispersant to mitigate the impact of the oil spill.

Despite all the effort total decontamination has not been possible largely owing to the fact that the oil had penetrated deep into the waters and clearing such an enormous amount is practically impossible. The surface oil has been cleaned up as much as possible. But the sub-surface oil still remains. Though it is said that the sub-surface oil is inert in terms of harming the marine life that is far from the truth. The poisonous content can prove to be lethal to the underwater flora and fauna. Currently, about 20 acres of the Alaskan coastline is still contaminated by this sub-surface oil.

The accident caused the company to get involved in a number of legal battles with not just the federal government but also the fishermen’s union of Alaska. A demand of $5 billion was made to the company as compensation because of the damages that had been caused. However, that amount was reduced to $507 million by the U.S. Supreme Court after several appeals.

We are still suffering the consequences of human negligence that caused an accident decade ago and there is no guarantee that this will change in the near future. Still, the efforts put into the righting the wrong by the concerned parties are commendable. Had they not acted the way they did the oil spill could have caused far more dangerous and devastating consequences. We can only hope that a lesson has been learned and that the ship companies would be more careful and alert now on so as to prevent a repetition of the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill in the future.

The post The Exxon Valdez Oil Spill Incident appeared first on Maritime Manual.

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