#one side was fine with colonizing occupied planets and the other side was not

[lord-squiggletits]

Absolutely zero offence to jariktig, I'm just using their outsider perspective as an example to jump off of, but I feel like the fanon idea that "Autobots get praised for the same things Decepticons get villified for" is SO FUCKING WEIRD because I don't understand how you could possibly think this unless you either haven't read phase 2 of IDW1 or just??? Didn't fucking pay attention to the story whatsoever?????

[ianworthy]

Israel vs Palestine

What is really happening? And the bloody solution…

First off, I'm from a small town on the other side of the planet so I don't have any kind of agenda.  If you want that B.S. there's lots of options.  I realized more than ever over the last year that we are being lied to and manipulated on the daily, which led me down many rabbit holes. I've been "re-educating" myself and started writing in an effort to make some sense of the craziness.

History made shorter…

We should start around when the Ottoman Empire ended for some context, which was in the early 1920s in case you slept through History.  If you rely on the ‘news’ you'd think this started a couple of weeks ago.  Reality, if you go back far enough no one "owned" anyone, nor the land they occupied or any of the land you’re on right now. Humanity and its entire existence has involved one tribe/country trying to annihilate the other.   It never works out, but here we are 200000 years later, give or take 194000 years, depending on whether your belief in Science transcends beyond vaccines and masks.  In case you didn't catch that I’m referring to the 6000 year timeline outlined in the Bible.  Breaking this down to the core revolves around religion used to create unnecessary animosity, so a relatively small proportion of a population can benefit.  Isn't that every war ever?

After the Ottoman collapse, the land that's in dispute aka Israel and Palestine was given to the British.  Interesting fact, if you look at all the atrocities and wars currently going on in the world, they are all countries that were "occupied" some way or another by the British or to a lesser extent, the French.  Aren't we all curious for Harry's hot take on how he's the product of ruthless colonization of his great grandparents that its impact on global society is ever present? These former colonies are humanitarian disasters enslaved by whichever military coup at the time provides corporations with the most resources.  But hey, as long as the Old B of England got the right biscuits to accompany her afternoon Tea that's all that matters, right?        

When the British, or most powerful Army at the time called the shots, there was a movement referred to as Zionism that began to gain support from the Jewish people throughout Europe.  Zionism basically means the nationalist movement to create a state for the Jews, not the jam by Damien Marley, which is my first exposure to the word Zion.  I'm sure this rise was foreshadowing of what was to come.  Not to get all conspiracy theory on you but none other than the Rothschilds (wealthiest family in history that created the global money supply that are apparently no longer wealthy) created a proposal that involved divvying up the land for a state in the future, which was after the war.  Google the ‘Balfour Declaration’ if you don't believe me.  From that point the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians has steadily decreased, according to the last map I checked it was looking pretty bleak.  The land was divided not because they are physiologically different but because one group of parents parents parents were raised to believe in Abraham and the other a linkage to Abraham.

Up to the current point… 

I'm sure that Jared Kusher's involvement in recognizing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and the Trump peace plan of supplying the middle east with more missiles played a supporting role, but more current, Ramadan.  The Israelis like all of the World Leaders during the last year have been flexing too much during the lockdowns of COVID, which carried over to yet another Ramadan and evicted some families for further settlements.  In addition to the evictions the Israelis broke up a Mosque gathering on Eid, Antifa style.  Eid for Muslims is like Christmas for Christians, but instead of getting toys and gifts from Jesus swap, Santa Claus, you get to eat during daylight after a month of starving yourself.  This Mosque is Islam's third holiest site, conveniently Jerusalem is Judaism and Christianity holiest site as well, coincidence?  To relate, for Christians, if Jerusalem is the holiest, and the Vatican is the Second then probably a Church like Notre Dame would be third, or up there at least.  I feel that the MSM coverage of the Notre Dame burning was little different than the burning of the Al-Aqsa Mosque. 

In retaliation to the Israeli raids, Hamas, the awful military leadership of Palestine launched missiles that had no real threat of reaching their target, being shot down half way by the Rafael Advanced Defense System (Iron Dome) that the US taxpayer supplied batteries for under Obama.  In response to a “potential” desert storm attack from Palestine a bunch of USA made Lockheed Martin F-16s equipped with M61 Vulcans and Raytheon AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles launched an Airstrike killing a bunch of innocent civilians, including kids.  According to the death toll I just looked at, it was 241 dead Palestinians, including 5 top Hamas commanders, the media and a bunch of kids to 12 Israelis, no executives, consultants, shareholders or politicians were killed.               

The Solution Is…

Two solid states, and no longer decreasing the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians and increasing of Jewish settlements.  Palestinians and Jews both have the right to a home.  With the help of the greedy boomers (worst leadership class in history) and the media making the next couple of generations hate each other, the rift is super deep.  Every war is sustained by the industrial military complex.  Lockheed Martin Raptors or Raytheon Heat Seeking Missiles do not magically appear in the Israeli Air Force.  The corporations that run the United States are in the business of making money at all costs, in this case innocent lives mostly Palestinians.  Humans need to stop providing the means to commit such acts of horror.     

It also seems pretty convenient that Benjamin Netanyahu was recently unable to form a new government and is facing criminal corruption charges.  Party leaders are always guilty of something, it’s just a matter of if they follow the most profitable line or not.  He's obviously not the right person to run Israel, taking it in the extreme right position that’s trendy right now in politics.  Extreme either way is no solution to anything, and the sooner Netanyahu goes the better.  His father was an Ivy League Professor active in the Zionist movement, who's father was also a Zionists.  Point here is people that grow up entitled with an unwavering ideology and no life experience make for horrible leaders.  That applies to a lot of world "leaders", even the countries that don't have nonsensical inbred Royals in charge.  Any peaceful long-term resolution involves leadership that recognizes that Jews and Palestinians have a right to a home.  There also needs to be more fair coverage.  I guess it doesn't help that the people running Sony Pictures, Twentieth Century Fox, Lionsgate, Universal, NBC, The New York Times, The Tribune, Discovery, CNN, Google and Facebook are all Jewish.  In Palestine, the Israeli Air Force blew up one of the main media buildings that housed Al Jazeera News and the Associated Press.  No press or opinion vs all the colluding press and opinions. 

As for Hamas, or any of these military coups that emerge are the result of instability and no leadership for its people, present more of a challenge.  Israel can and hopefully soon, will function just fine with new leadership.  My entire adult life, the Industrial Military Complex has been at war with the Middle East.  The defense contractors that have been defending America from an “evasion” always seem to find some action. It's purely about Oil(Money) and strategic power, but we can leave that for another time. From the West perspective Hamas is a terrorist organization, which they are, but if you're living in Palestine having dinner with your family and a Raytheon heat seeker comes through the window and blows up your family into pieces. Wouldn’t that be a terrorist act? In order to have any kind of sustainable solutions the counties and corporations that pillage these places killing innocent people need to find a way to structure these de facto coups into a legit military that can serve as a National Army. At the end of the day these kids are just fighting for what they think or are forced to think is right. Given the option, and right identity, kids can redirect their frustration and hatred towards a national unity that respects and values its citizens. Not that I have much faith in non-secular rule, but I think as a starting point a country that can be run more or less by its people is better than this apartheid situation that’s going on now.

The ceasefire has been called, which is the necessary short-term solution, however not going to change much going forward.  This game is being played with a zero-sum, and I think that they were premeditated targets that were going to be fired at some point in the future regardless of what the spark was. My position at the end of the day is that a handful of countries produce all the weapons used to blow everyone up, so it should start at the source and those who benefit the most.  Which obviously isn't the everyday people of Palestine or Israel. The upside, with the media fighting for relevance the corporate narrative is being challenged.  We just haven't figured out the right way. I have some thoughts, subscribe or follow please.

[engineeredfiction]

Solace Among the Stars Ch. 2 “Manifest Destiny

Rating: PG-13

What: Crossover fanfiction comprising of themes and elements from: The Expanse, Blade Runner, Prospect(2018)

Characters: All original characters except for Ezra and Murtry. OC are based on actors I like such as Tobias Menzies (Greer) and Adele Haenel (Allard).

Plot: A group of banned Earthers attempt to improve their life beyond their home system, but come up against a powerful enemy.

Mood board is here. You can also check out the ‘sol mood’ tag

And if you would like to listen to music to put you in the mood then check out the playlist. I’ll be adding to it as time goes on.

Special thanks: @tom-riddleston-me and @yourpalmoony for being beta readers! I appreciate the time and effort!

NOTE: The format is a bit off, I will fix that later, I just don’t have the patience now. But if anyone knows how I can preserve formatting from google docs to a tumblr post please let me know!

More Notes: We finally meet Ezra! Well he’s awake and talking in this one.

Chapter 1 ‘The Stranger’

The lift sped up to the ninth level of Arcadia carrying Greer and his mysterious escort. A metallic ding signalled their stop, and the lift doors opened to a sprawling view of two nearby moons through floor-to-ceiling windows. The moon Helada, ammonia ice streaked the blue rock, and in the distance was Bosque, or colloquially known as ‘The Green’, due to its poisonous green atmosphere and lush forests. The gas giant Bakhroma was off in the distance behind the moon.

   “This way,” the escort called motioning for Greer to follow him through the door behind the receptionist’s desk. 

   Greer pulled away from the view and glimpsed at the receptionist. There was an unnatural glow behind the young man’s eyes; he wasn’t human, but a replicant. Replicants always caught Greer off guard due to their ability to blend in with humans. He always thought their short lifespan was a necessary reassurance. 

   The hallway behind the door led to an expansive room with a flurry of activity. Desks were occupied with relaxed chattering people in well-tailored clothing. A young woman paraded around the office floor in a skintight latex unitard with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Greer spotted a bowl of black caviar on her tray. More food and bottles of wine were brought in by caterers.

   “Is there a party?” asked Greer.

   His escort gave him a sideways glance, “A celebration.”

   “Celebrating what?”

   His question was ignored. The escort pressed a bell by a door near the back. After a few seconds the door slid open to reveal Wallis’ secretary.

   “He’s been expecting you,” he cooly stated, “follow me.”

   Greer followed the secretary while the escort disappeared behind him. The office was large, smokey, and dark except for low gold lighting around the perimeter of the room and the light coming from the expansive windows behind his desk. Wallis was surrounded by a few members of Terra Corp’s managing staff, each carrying full-to-the-brim champagne glasses. A freshly-lit cigar dangled from Wallis’ mouth. He immediately turned to his new guest with a wide grin, gave Greer a once-over while he took a drag from his cigar, and strode across the black flooring to greet Greer. 

   “You must be Captain James Greer?” Wallis affirmed with an equally firm handshake. 

   “Yes.”

   “I’m Jaxtom Wallis. COO of Terra Corp.”

   “I know you who are.”

   Wallis took another puff of his cigar with a raised eyebrow and set it down on the desk.

   “Let me introduce you to some of the bigwigs of Terra Corp on this side of the galaxy,” he announced. He slapped a firm hand on Greer’s shoulder and guided him through the introductions, “This is Callista head of sales, Zarina head of engineering and sciences, and Dexton our lawyer, well one of many, and this brilliant man is Xavix. He’s the Director of Colonization for the United World Systems.”

   Pleasantries were exchanged and Wallis’s secretary handed Greer a half full glass of champagne.

   “What do you need to speak to me about?” Greer asked.

   “Straight to business? Take some time to admire my new cassowary! Here let me show you,” Wallis herded Greer with another firm hand on the shoulder. “I just got this beauty a few days ago.”

  The large mechanical bird turned its head towards the pair, two amber glowing eyes stared back at them. The beak opened and a tinny squawk forced its way out. It took a few steps ahead, stretched out the wings, and flapped a few times.

   “Isn’t it stunning?” inquired Wallis.

   “Wonderful,” Greer deadpanned. Greer furrowed his brow at the bird, “What is it again?”

   “A cassowary. The real ones on Earth are aggressive and can kill a person with its claws.”

“It adds comfort to the place.”

   “More of a touch of elegance I think,” Wallis either ignored or missed Greer’s dry sarcasm. “Listen,” he turned Greer back towards the staff and leaned into him, “We had a situation where a Terra Corp employee mistook one of your employees as a raider…pirate…marauder…and fired at them.”

   “She nearly died when the bullet tore her suit and exposed her to vacuum.”

“One I humbly apologise for.”

“And lost a hand.”

“I heard she had a limb regrowth procedure?”

“She did.”

“Well she’s good as new if not better! You see this mishap between her and one of my men has weighed heavily on me. I would like to make it up to you and your crew.” Wallis pushed a button on his desk and the hologram of a four planet system appeared. He continued, “Have you heard of the Basilicus System?”

“In passing.”

“The UWS has been in the Basilicus System for the past seventy years and has just announced that it is ready for colonization. Terra Corp has been given the first permit to begin working the grounds of Basilicus!”

Greer read the eagerly waiting faces of the staff, “And?”

“Terra Corp is a bit under financial strain-”

“I couldn’t tell,” Greer recalled his early sight of the celebration outside. 

Wallis chuckled sheepishly and continued, “we just can’t take a whole fleet out that far without getting a lay of the lands and resource samples and showing those refined resources to our board and investors.”

“How far out?”

Xavix butted in, “Two parsecs from Arcadia. Sixty three years each way if you go there straight from here. Sixty years if you go back through The Ring Network. ”

“A hundred twenty-six years!” Greer choked.

“But we can reduce that to fifty seven years both ways if we give you a new state-of-the-art ship,” Wallis persuaded.

“For a twelve year difference, we are not giving up the Sleipnir.”

Wallis picked up the champagne glass and balanced it between his fingers. He studied Greer’s face for a few seconds. Wallis teased, “There are five million credits on the table for this mission. Five million credits for each crew member. Imagine what you could do with five million credits. You could buy a penthouse on Mars, or Titan, or a house with acres of land on the lush green planets of Andromeda or Rhea with more than enough left over for the end of your days; buy fine things for your wife…or husband! Maybe for your future children? And out of this you get a new space transportation system, which includes the new model of suspended animation pods, Generation Nine nuclear pulse engine, and other luxuries for a long trip…”

Greer swallowed the rest of his champagne, “I need to discuss this with my crew and see what they say.”

“Of course. But we need an answer tomorrow. Time is ticking and we are eager to get this to work for the long term goal of Terra Corp.”

“What’s the long term goal? “Expansion. On Earth 19th century Americans believed in Manifest Destiny. The virtue, mission, and destiny of the United States was to spread its way of life across the country. We aim to do the same for the betterment of our people…of all people. We still have the desire; the need; the want to explore and go further than ever before. And Basilicus has four planets, and their moons, with an abundance of wealth waiting to be plucked from its virgin lands.”

A lump grew in Greer’s throat, “I’ll talk to them.”

“Persuade them.”

Xavix stepped forward, “Do any of them have mining or harvesting experience?”

“No,” Greer responded.

“I can add one of my employees to your crew. I’ll see to it personally you’ll get the best and provide training for you and your crew. Paid by me.”

“And what exactly will we be doing-”

“-I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more until you and your crew agree to the mission.”

The staff appeared to salviate as they silently waited for Greer’s answer, their fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of the champagne glasses. Their breaths trapped in their lungs and lips pursed.

“If the answer is yes,” Wallis asserted,, “bring your crew tomorrow morning.” 

****************************************************

“How long?” Murtry inquired as he crossed his arms. 

“Fifty-seven to sixty-three years. So a total of a hundred fourteen to hundred twenty six Earth years. Plus however long it takes us to get these ‘resources’,” Greer replied.

A collective groan came from the crew.

“We’re already twenty years out from when most of us left Earth,” Keane stated. She jolted out of her chair in the mess room of their ship, Sleipnir, to the cabinet that stored the libations.

“What’s adding a hundred to it?” Allard sighed, “Perhaps they’ve already forgotten about us on Earth and we can go back?”

“Not likely with the UN in charge. They keep permanent records,” Murtry interjected. “I may not be able to go back to Earth, but I don’t plan on being a star sailor for the rest of my life.”

“Born and bred ground pounder?” Greer asked Murtry as he followed Keane to grab glasses and she pulled out the whiskey.

“Exactly! I would like to settle on some bountiful rock, and five million credits will get that for me.”

“Five million credits from a corporation that has built its empire on blood and exploitation? All they ever were fines, freeze orders, and strikes, ” Keane complained. 

“Why not? They’ll be out of twenty million dollars with us on board!” Murtry retorted.

“But what did the UWS find out there that’s worthy of investing twenty million dollars, a pulse engine ship, and then the time it’ll take to get there and back? Must be something highly valuable.”

“And we would have to have one of their employees with us,” Allard added.

“I’m not comfortable with that and I want our own AI installed on the ship. If we’re going,” Keane insisted. 

“I agree, I don’t want one of their employees with us,” Greer moved to the table with three glasses of whiskey for each and sat beside Murtry leaving Keane the only one standing sipping the liquor.

Murtry gulped down the whiskey, “So what we do? Hire a floater? Unsavoury characters.”

“Kettle calling the pot,” Allard hummed.

“It’s pot calling the kettle.”

“Are you sure?”

The three nodded their heads towards Allard.

“It may seem strange to hear this from me, but Terra Corp is a double-edge sword. They’re a necessary evil. I know evil, I’m well acquainted with it. I’m slowly coming around from what I’ve done. And…I…it’s been more than twenty years since I’ve last set foot on Earth. The people I care about are either dead, dying, or don’t want to talk to me anymore. Or a combination of the latter. So why not travel the parsecs to the farthest reaches humans have gone and see worlds that haven’t been seen in person?” Murtry reasoned.

Keane stared at her boots; the soles were worn and on the edge of tearing, the original laces snapped ages ago and replaced with new ones.  

“What do you think?” Greer asked Keane. “Are you in?”

Keane clenched her jaw before looking up at him, “Let me sleep on it.”

“That’s okay. We can finish discussing this over breakfast and a plan on recruiting a fifth.”

Allard finished her whiskey. “You know what they want us to get?”

“Wallis wouldn’t tell me until we accepted the offer.”

“That’s dubious and not surprising,” Keane stated. She looked down at her boots again and thought how nice it would be to have a new pair that weren’t bought with tainted credits.

Trees, dirt, sand, metal, and blood, all at once. The sun was warm and the wind gentle. Keane tried to convinced herself  the desert in the middle of mountains was a dream and not an actual experience.

******************************************************************************

She was up first, waiting by the entrance of the docking arm to their ship. Her arms were wrapped around her trying to stay warm despite having a wool jumper on. Murtry greeted her with a cursory glance.

“I don’t want a ten minute story in a five minute bag. Too early and no coffee for that shit. Are you onboard for this? Honestly,” Murtry yawned and propped himself up on the wall.

She looked down at her worn boots, “It’s money. Which we all need,” 

“Yes.”

She shrugged, “It’ll be exciting to go to a new star system. One of the first to really see these planets and get into their dirt.”

“You should have been a scientist.”

“I was an engineer.”

Murtry lowered his tone, “Soon enough people will accept your kind and you won’t have to hide.”

Keane gave a shy smile, “You mean that?”

“I may have the face of an arsehole, the walk of an arsehole, and sound like an arsehole,” they both chuckled, “but I am sincere in what I’ve said. If it wasn’t for your…modification you would have died on that rock.”

Keane’s breath deepened. “I’m still human,” she smiled and part of her fringe fell over her face.

Without thinking, Murtry gently swept the ginger hairs aside, “Of course.”

The sound of footsteps approached. 

“Waffles! Pancakes! Sausage! Mimosas!” Allard cheered as she made her way through the docking arm. Greer dragged feet behind her, he pulled a polar over his head .

“No alcohol,” yawned Greer as he tried to smooth down his short brown hair.

“How are you so cheerful every morning?” groaned Murtry as he turned away headed for the mess halls.

Allard ran to meet Murtry’s pace, “Because each time I wake up, I’m so happy to be alive. Arrête d’être grincheux!” 

Smörgåsbord dining hall was quiet this early phase, or morning as ground pounders called it. A few tables were occupied but the chatter was low and infrequent. Kitchen workers filled the buffet with an assortment of breakfast foods. Allard swiped her credit card first and dashed to the buffet without waiting for the rest of the crew.

“The coffee smells so delightful!” Murtry moaned out in near ecstasy. 

Keane paced in front of him and smiled in agreement. She eyed the coffee station with hungry eyes and was thinking about a large cup of black coffee, but a patron caught her attention. It was the man who was in the bed beside her hyperbaric chamber. His new arm was completed and he was massaging it softly.

Good for him, she thought. His face wasn’t shaven, clothing showed their age, and dirt clung to his boots. He must be a floater, an unusually attractive floater. She looked behind to get another glance and their eyes met. I’ve seen him somewhere before. Before the incident. Keane snapped her head around and poured her first cup of coffee.

Allard placed her plate down a few tables over from the man by the wall. Her mouth was already full with food when Keane set down a cup of coffee for Allard.

“Je t’adore!” Blow kisses were exchanged.

Food was being shovelled into mouths and condiments were passed around. “I’m in,” Keane traced a flower in the maple syrup on the plate in front of her.

Greer patted her back, “Good, good. I’m glad you decided to stick with us.”

“Someone has to save your asses. Arses.” They shared a laugh. Keane continued in a whisper, “Who knows, maybe Terra Corp will go under by the time we get back?”

“Cheers to that,” Murtry raised his mug, “so, what are we going to do about finding a harvester?”

The man’s ears perked up and looked over at their table, Keane caught his movement in her peripheral. 

“Suppose we’ll go down to the docks and see if there’s any contractors or floaters. Plenty of decent Belters,” Greer thought out loud.

“There’s a job agency here yes?” Allard asked as she leaned back with her cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I suppose that would be the first place. We can’t just get anyone. We need someone trustworthy who’s not going to murder. Someone who can do the job…whatever it is exactly. And…not murder us and or steal from us,” Greer trailed off. 

“You’re really worried about someone murdering us?”, Keane laughed, “I guess we have to vet them first.”

“I can get a background check on someone quickly,” Greer reasoned.

“No, no. I know what you mean. But if we are required to hire this harvester, then at least we go the contractor route. Anyone who won’t sign a contract can’t be trusted.”

“Right,” Murtry agreed, “it’s why we avoid the floaters. Possibly avoid Belters, they-”

“-Why won’t those people do contracts anyways? The floaters I mean,” Keane wondered. 

“I think it has something to do with the legal fees. And maybe principles,” Murtry rolled his eyes.   

“It’s mainly the legal fees,” a voice boomed to the group. In unison the crew turned towards the man who approached them with a stride of confidence that cut the air he moved through. 

“Legal fees shouldn’t scare anyone in need of work.”

“Well some folks are in rough situations that don’t allow them the comfort of throwing credits to lawyers,” the man’s voice was accented with a drawl, “and so they turn to the honour of word and hard work.”

“So we just rely on the word on some floater to uphold their end of the bargain?”

“What’s a contract going to do for you out in The Empty when you’re faced with someone stronger than you?”

Murtry glared at him.

“Clearly you have an interest,” Greer chided, “since you’ve listened to our conversation.”

“My apologies, but I do good sir,” the man claimed. He sat down at the table next to Greer, “I’m Ezra.” He extended his arm towards Greer.

Hesitantly, Greer accepted the handshake, “I’m Greer. These here are Allard, Keane, and Murtry.”

“Surname basis I see.”

“It’s standard. What’s yours?”

“That’s a tale and a half,” Ezra advised as Murtry rolled his eyes, “but I go by my mother’s name Reyes.”

“Ezra Reyes?” questioned Keane.

“It’s a strange combination for sure. My mother and father came from two very different backgrounds, but fell in love regardless.”

“So what can you offer us?” Greer returned to the point of this meeting.

“I am a floater, yes, but I may have the skills you desire for this fifth wheel.” 

Greer looked over Ezra’s shoulders as more people filtered into the dining hall. “How long have you been doing what you’ve been doing? What do you do?”

Ezra took in a breath. “I have been harvesting all over the inhabited systems since I was a spry teenager. Plants, gems, a variety of metals and foul smelling liquids to keep structures like Arcadia spinning and our ships flying. And I am willing to sign a contract.”

“You are?” Murtry blurted.

“I am. I am a man of my word. Now what is that you’ll have me do and where are we going?”

The group collective drew a breath and it was Greer who spoke, “We are going somewhere far to harvest samples of some material.” Greer carefully described.

“Well that is nebulous.”

“It’s for Terra Corp.”

Ezra gave pause upon Terra Corp being mentioned. “I suppose I am sitting in front of some well-accomplished team to have caught the eyes of one of the most powerful companies in the occupied Universe.”

“It’s basically an adventure of a lifetime and good money,” Keane cracked her neck.

“Yeah and far away to the outer edges of the travelled galaxy,” Murtry huffed.

Ezra’s curiosity peaked, “How far is the travel and how much are they offering?” He was met with apprehensive glances, “It’s a large sum of money?”

Greer ran a hand through his hair. “Two parsecs away and payment is in the millions.”

Ezra’s eyes widened, “Oh. I’ll be honest that caught me off guard,” he gave a weary smile, “My math isn’t the greatest, but I do believe that’s over a century of travel is it not?”

Keane finished her coffee, “Correct. A hundred and-”

“-twenty six years,” the crew said in unison. 

“That’s an awfully long time. What do your loved ones say?” Ezra said as he flexed his new right arm and shook it a few times. 

The crew found themselves in another round of meaningful silence which Keane broke, “we don’t have anyone but ourselves. We’re loners, we’re rebels.” She smiled to lighten the mood and Ezra smiled back.

“I like you,” he pointed at her. “I find that hard to believe that not one person in this part of the galaxy wants to be around any of you, except for this curmudgeon,” he nodded towards Murtry. 

“Like I said, we’re rebels.”

“And what are you rebelling against?”

Keane sighed and gathered her thoughts for a second, she looked to her crew but none of them were interested in talking to a stranger about where they were from and why they were out this far from home. “Join us and maybe we’ll tell you.”

Murtry scrunched his eyes closed, Allard nudged Keane with a flirtatious smile, and Greer couldn’t help but grin.

“I have been known to go great lengths for a good story, but I will admit a century of travel is intimidating.”

“You’re willing to spend that century with strangers? You don’t have anyone?”

“No I don’t,” Ezra lied, “I’m a floater. For now.”

Greer looked Ezra over, “We’re meeting with Terra soon. You have more presentable clothing?”

“Why yes I do own interview clothes,” joked Ezra.

Tag list. If you do not want to be on this please message me. I have tagged people who requested it and those who I think may be interested.

@opheliaelysia @a-carnie-and-a-cop @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @tarrevizslas  @dindjarindiaries @pedropascalisadilf @pedropascalito @maiden-of-asgard @rzrcrst @lizanotfromaroundhere @aint-that-a-mcfreakin-bitch @spacegayofficial @opheliaelysia

[inquisitorhotpants]

Hey, I am late to the Pub vs Imp argument, but I had a thought I'd like your opinion on. Before SWTOR, I heard the Rep did commit targeted genocide against the Sith resulting in them fleeing and their homeworlds occupied. I'd imagine most of their "potential" to change only comes from rebuilding and reclaiming/dealing with their history without an Emperor. Both sides have to make changes (Imps arguably more), but it seems to me that the Imps are the only in-game who can choose that option?

The Republic - and the Jedi - have something of a history of attempting genocide or just trying to “neatly” kill people they don’t want to deal with. 

After the Second Great Schism, the “solution” to the Dark Jedi was to shoot them off into Unknown Space, unarmed, fully aware that at the time they had no idea what was out there, so they could “learn the error of their ways”. (Of course, the exiles were colonizing rapey assholes, but that plays into Star Wars’ whole other issue with racist tropes (not that they’re the only ones - see also WoW - but I digress).)

Then the Republic decided “hey, let’s just straight up murder all of them!” in the wake of the Great Hyperspace War. The Jedi went along with it, and thus the Sith Empire was born. 

Then you have Revan, who outright tells you he’s planning on murdering something like 98.7% of all of the Empire (and yet, Revan is a Good Guy Hero, go figure). 

(Trending toward more “recent” Star Wars history, I did find this article about shitty things the Jedi have done, which I personally agree with though I’m sure folks would quibble about some of these.)

All of these somewhat understandably serve, in my opinion, to make the Empire very much like a bitey dog that is more than ready to Fuck You Up 24/7. (Funny enough, having played a number of light side Sith, I can think of no Jedi besides Timmns who will actually just TALK to you, they all immediately leap to SITH BAD YOU DIE NOW, which ... well. That’s funny coming from the side that proclaims - without us seeing it in game - that the Empire is full of nothing but murderhoboes.)

And then on top of that, you get Nihilus 2.0 Vitiate, who disappears and shows up just to murder a whole planet of his own people? 

So after Ziost, I was actually really excited to see what they were going to do with the Empire. You had part of a Council, you had Darth Marr - arguably the closest thing the Empire gets to a paladin in the main characters that we see, which is another reason chapter 12 is just so entirely shitty but again i digress - running three of the main branches of the Council (all of the military spheres) while being friendly with the guy controlling the purse strings ... and they could have done SO MUCH with the Empire struggling to find a footing that wasn’t so emperor-worship centric, and that was actually moving toward diplomacy instead of domination (mentioned on Vowrawn’s wiki page). 

Instead we got the shit that was KotFE, and then when that and KotET apparently went over like the Hindenburg, now we’re back to “the Republic and Empire totally hate each other!” in this next expansion. /sigh

Which is why my fic went “fine, fuck it, if you won’t give me nuance and something interesting for the Empire, I’ll write it myself.”  xD

I do appreciate that at least on Imp side,  you can talk about how you want to make things better. Pub side doesn’t even seem overly interested in acknowledging maybe they do some shady shit, lmao. 

[nb-in-sf]

The Cage of Zeus by Sayuri Ueda

So this one is really quite Good. The main storyline is a pretty standard thriller, but it's a well-executed one. All the characters have understandable and sympathetic motives, even while violently disagreeing with each other, which is a significant plus for me.

The story revolves around a community of genetically-engineered hermaphroditic humans, called bigenders or Rounds (for "roundtrip gender -- a being constantly moving between masculinity and femininity"). Binary-sexed humans are called "Monaurals", a word whose etymology beyond the "mon-" part is not clear to me. This is an English translation of a Japanese book, so I'm not sure how closely the gender-related vocabulary used here resembles that in the original Japanese. At the very least, a translator's note at the beginning of the book informs us that the use of Spivak pronouns for the bigender characters is a translational convention since in Japanese it's relatively easy to avoid gendered pronouns in regular speech. One character also observes that "Them is fine. Just don't get calling them him or her. They'll call you out for using that language."

The Rounds have been engineered in other ways besides sex to be maximally fit for the task of exploring and colonizing space, which is the main goal of the project (though it's still in its early stages).

Mainstream human society is squicked out by the idea of bigenderism and the Rounds are stuck on a space station orbiting Jupiter and forbidden from traveling to Earth or Mars (the other human-occupied planet in this era) unless they submit to a surgical operation to render them female or male.

Rounds have a "double-I" chromosome in place of Xs and Ys, and their genitalia are described thus --

Outwardly, eir genital area looked much like a woman's. [...] the Round copulatory organ was not external. The penis was stored in a urogenital slit. Like the male genitalia of many whales and dolphins, it became enlarged and protruded from the slit when blood rushed to it upon sexual arousal. [...] So the penis and vagina aren't arranged front to back but side by side. The penis on the right and the vagina on the left. [...] The urethral orifice was located toward the anterior and the anus located toward the posterior in relation to the reproductive organs.

They apparently have smallish breasts and appear generally androgynous. Curiously it's observed that Monaural women usually perceive Rounds as male, while men perceive them as female.

On Round reproduction:

A Round couple can love as a man and be loved as a woman in a single act of intercourse. Not every act leads to pregnancy, of course, but repeated intercourse eventually stimulates the pituitary gland to secrete gonadotropic hormones. [...] as we continue to have sex with a compatible partner, both Rounds experience synchronous ovulation, making possible dual pregnancy. That's why children are always born in pairs. [...] Everything from the efficient insemination method, the short gestation period, to the swift maturation rate is expressly engineered so we can adapt quickly to any nonplanetary environment. Adaptation is our lifestyle.

Apparently the Rounds enjoy having casual sex with each other as "a means of social interaction", but most of them settle down into pair-bonds in which they produce children.

As usual, in a few places the translator fucks up the pronouns, in this case calling Round characters by she/her pronouns. Someone had corrected one of them in the library copy that I read.

It always interests me when a writer (or in this case, translator) using neopronouns for some characters messes up occasionally and forgets to use them, because it kind of lets you know on some level what gender the writer “really” thinks of the characters as instinctively or unconsciously. This is the first time I’ve seen a pronoun slip using “she” rather than “he”, which is maybe not surprising since the author and translator are both women. In some ways though the Rounds do come across to me as rather more "feminine" than "masculine" psychologically. Mainly I think in the fear and disgust they express toward the sexual interest shown in them by (typically male) Monaurals -- they come across as people who are used to fearing men as potential sexual predators. At one point we're told that

Tei was amazed by the Monaurals' unflagging fixation with sex. In certain cases, they couldn't help violating the objects of their affection. Just how were they driven to such madness? [...] On the other hand, at times Tei found emself envying them. That they operated under a gender binary system seemed to intensify their romantic feelings. The passion with which Monaurals lusted after what they lacked was a quality that a sexually uniform race like the Rounds did not have.

This apparently ignores the fact that the occurrence of sex acts between Rounds that aren't "entirely consensual" has been mentioned earlier in the book. Not to mention what we're told of the relationship between Veritas and Harding, a Round and a Monaural man who became sexually involved at some point -- Harding refused to ever take on the "female" role in sex but Veritas wasn't satisfied with only half of eir sexual nature fulfilled, so ey got really pushy about it until Harding publicly called em a freak and a pervert and told em to fuck off. (Strangely Harding is portrayed as the only one really in the wrong in this situation, despite Veritas’ sexually predatory behavior.) This incident resulted in a strict segregation between Rounds and Monaurals being instituted on the station itself, to prevent such situations from recurring.

The Round characters have various feelings about their current separation from human society, with some embracing the opportunity to form their own culture in isolation from Monaural influence and others rejecting it.

All the scientists did was eliminate sexual distinctions. But that change alone can transform human society -- our lifestyles, value systems, our sense of humanity.

At the end of the story, the Rounds are all infected with a virus that forcibly shuts down one of their reproductive systems, rendering them all physically female or male. Nonetheless, the Rounds assert that they are still psychologically bigender and that the unique culture they've formed will survive.

"I am male. But that doesn't mean I self-identify as male. The Monaurals don't suddenly become something else when they lose their sexual function, do they? That goes for us too. We were raised in a society where being bigender is a natural fact of life. My generation has matured inherently identifying as both male and female. Even though we have lost one of our sexual functions, we remain bigender. Karina may have destroyed the Round physiology, but she hasn't destroyed our souls. [...]"

So in the end gender does come down to personal identity and choice, a theme perhaps emphasized even moreso in the translation -- earlier the book introduced a character who was born a Round but hated being confined to the special district and chose to surgically become male in order to live an independent life, and this character is consistently referred to as "he"; but the Rounds at the end of the story who have been made female and male by force yet continue to identify with Round culture are still "ey".

There's also a thread dealing with a minority within the minority: Tei is a Round born with the positions of eir genitals reversed (the penis on the left and the vagina on the right). Ey has significant Angst about this, and eir existence is used to call into question the notion that Round society truly is, or should be, without sexual distinctions.

Naive as Tei was in her [sic] adolescence, ey had been assailed with unbearable doubt and feelings of inferiority. Why am I different from the others? I am not a Monaural. But I'm also not a Round. Then what am I?

"You're wrong," Tei answered with as much conviction as ey could muster. "It happens every once in a while. It's a simple genetic aberration -- not an abnormality."

"Then why didn't you choose surgery? It's a simple reconstructive procedure, yet you chose not to go under the knife. I don't understand it."

"Because people like me are necessary," Tei said. "If there is no one with such differences, nothing to regard as a mark of one's individuality, Round society will become homogenized and eventually stagnate."

"So what you're telling me is that Round society will eventually develop a binary system like the gender distinctions separating Monaurals," Karina said. "If a Round majority and minority were born of physiological differences, you're going to have the same disagreements that exist among Monaurals, regardless of your elimination of gender distinctions. In time, these differences will be the standard by which you discriminate against others."

"If we don't dwell on the numbers, that these differences exist at all will be rendered meaningless."

"I wonder," Karina mused. "Do you really believe you can achieve in three generations what we could not in thousands of years, and overcome such a deeply entrenched way of thinking?"

There is also frequent mention in the book of the other forms of gender nonconformity which exist in the future human society (trans people, intersex people, etc) -- and in particular the phenomenon of "fluid transgenders" who transition from one sex to the other and back again multiple times over the course of their lives.

[teratoscope]

A dangerous predator, descended from an earthly animal, that hunts in orbit, or interplanetary space?

Grootslang

The ride upwell out of a massdriver is apocalyptic. It rattles your teeth even sealed tight in a crash podwrapped in inertial dampeners wrapped in layer after layer of armor andinsulation from the outer shell.But then you break out of theatmosphere and the universe stops shaking—falls utterly still, in fact—and youhear the launch shell separate, laying your shuttlecraft bare to space. Thehull cameras come to life and their feeds crackle into your heads-up-display;the curve of the earth bends out in front of you.You fuckin’ did it. Survived yourfirst tour. Nothing Provisional about your citizenship anymore. You’re an officer now. You get your own room, your own bed, a pledge in the clone vats.Offers from senior officers to follow up on. A vote.But before all of that can getsorted out, you’ll have to cool your heels at the Luna outpost for a while. Youcame up on the opposite side of the planet from home, and it’s less fuss tojust wait for the moon to swing around under the station’s shadow.Which is fine. You’ve waded throughso much worse; you can stand being a little bored with the accommodations.And then you hear the comms squawkat you, an ear-splitting blast of coarse-textured noise. You catch a glimpse ofthe pilot’s face reflected in the main screen, eyes practically popping fromtheir sockets and all the blood gone from his face.You blink, and when you open youreyes again the front half of the shuttle is gone. Your half wheels backward,end over end. For a brief stretch in each revolution you catch sight of amassive form, too huge to fully illuminate from this distance. You can only putit together in parts. It is roughly cylindrical. One end bristles with bulbousdrupes that glimmer faintly with millions of inner lights and throw off animpossible heat haze in the vacuum; the other is ragged, like a hollowed,lightning-scarred stump, and a cloud of waving flagellae erupts from itsdepths, gathering the pieces of wreckage strewn around it and drawing themdown, down.

HD 18 MV 300’ EVA AC 15 AT harpoon tendrils (300’ cone, 2d6 damage, Dex check for half. Ona Dex check that fails by 4 or more, target is snared and drawn to a waitingsphincter-airlock, requiring a Strength check at disadvantage to break looseeach round or take 4d6 acid damage as the chamber fills with aerosolizeddigestive agents) or focused reactor discharge (1,200’ line, 5d6 heat damage,2d6 Rads; roll 1d6 at the top of each round after firing—can only fire again ona 6) or ram (5d20 kinetic damage)Special Alcubierre organ, dauntingtarget

Alcubierre organ—the Grootslang can induce alocalized spacetime distortion that allows it to move at translight speeds atgreat caloric cost. In combat, this allows the Grootslang to retreat from anencounter to elsewhere in the solar system by using a full round to warm up itsbioreactors and sacrificing a quarter of its maximum hp. Hypothetically, usingmethods not currently available with Freestar One’s tech, you could project itsroute and give chase. If the Grootslang would drop to 0 because of its use ofits organ, it enters meltdown and aims its body at the nearest high-valuetarget.

Daunting target—the Grootslang is the size of asmall city and heavily armored. If struck from the outside, it ignores damagefrom any weapon that deals damage that is not either in d12s or higher or usesthree or more dice. Weapons that can damageits exoskeleton deal ½ damage until it is brought to half hp or less.

 TheForward Escape project was planned and funded with the intent to field fiveFreestar-class stations, each meant to maintain a stable position at one of theEarth-system Lagrange points and serve a vital function in the preservation ofhuman civilization.

FreestarOne began as the designated military position, and the closest to Earth’sexosphere, situated just outside the moon’s orbit. It has since grown andmutated under the pressures of history.

FreestarsTwo, Four, and Five were meant to serve as civilian habitation platforms andindustrial depots. Of these, only Freestar Two went into position; it waspulverized by enemy mass drivers six months in, forming a cloud of space debristhat still encircles much of the planet. By the time Four and Five were up forlaunch there weren’t enough accounted-for civilians left to send up; thestations were mothballed and stripped down for critical equipment to field toFreestar One. Somewhere earthside, in a heavily shielded geofront whoselocation has been lost to bit rot, user error, and radiation-corrupted drives,the skeletons of these stations still sit and gather dust.

FreestarThree was meant to occupy the Lagrange point opposite Earth’s position in itsorbital path. It was built smaller to minimize its profile and, hopefully,avoid detection in-flight. All of these measures were taken to ensure that itspayload—a comprehensive, redundant vault of biological materials vital to thepotential reconstruction of Earth’s ecosystems, as well as a digitized recordof handpicked cultural artifacts—would go unscathed.

Thestation arrived at its destination in pristine condition. Unfortunately,several specimens had been contaminated by an enemy bioweapon before they wereever loaded on board. The security breach was never traced, and by the timeanybody noticed it was too late.

Thebioweapon incubated for two and a half years. When it matured, it acted fastenough that Prithvi, the onboard AI, was only able to release an incompleteradio-burst warning before the station disappeared from its position in a burstof waste gases.

Eversince, Freestar One has mercilessly tracked the position of the F3organism—what all available footage suggests is an invasive, quasi-cancerousmass inimical to the very notion of taxonomic category. It has colonized the framework of the station and atleast partially integrated into its electronics. Thus far it has never left thesolar system, but it appears to be capable of some kind of non-relativistictravel, given that it has managed several dozen pitstops in the orbit of everyplanet in the system, as well as multiple planetoids.

Observationsuggests that it has been steadily grazing the system for raw material,skimming atmospheres, eating comets and small asteroids, and seeding majorgravity wells with organic “probes” that return by the same means that the F3organism uses to traverse the distances between worlds. Between theseexcursions it suns itself, lounging just inside Mercury’s orbit.

Thepurpose of the F3 organism is unclear. At present it is one of the most directthreats to Freestar One’s existence; the threat of orbital bombardment hasdeterred any further direct exchanges of fire from enemy mass driversearthside, and the Freestar One Highguard maintains human dominance of thebattlefield in orbit, but the F3 organism has human forces beat in space formobility and resilience. It only needs to get in one good hit to screw us, andif we bloody its nose it has the option to run away; we do not.

In spiteof its obvious combat superiority, it has given the station a wide berth,though it does harass Highguard vehicles, Sepian dens, and Iron Saints when itbuzzes the Earth’s atmosphere or makes “pit stops” at the moon, sometimesresulting in confrontations between its spawn and the Luna mining colonyinterns. It just never hangs around in the same hemisphere as the station. Thishas led many to speculate that its purpose is logistical—that it is not only sustaining itself with its grazingpatterns but building a material stockpile to eventually be shared with itsparent species. Certain elements within this camp also point to the steadilydiminishing body of Post-Contact Exotic Artifact signatures detected throughoutlocal space, arguing that the F3 organism was designed specifically toclaim-jump the largest uncontested concentration of the resource that has thusfar driven the second phase of the Contact War.

A lesspopular but significant camp maintain the hypothesis that the F3 organism is a weapon—just a weapon with apowerful and unanticipated safety mechanism. Every time that the F3 organismenters the operating distance of human craft, its presence is announced by aburst of incoherent radio chatter. Those who have spent an inordinate amount oftime studying its output in human comms bands seem uniformly convinced thatPrithvi is still operational aboard the contaminated station, and has justenough control of certain critical systems to deter direct action against thestation and warn aligned targets in the hopes of allowing escape.

If so, theAI is up for consideration for multiple decorations, assuming it is everrecovered.

TheCounter-Xenological Study Committee has assigned the F3 organism the code name“Grootslang.” Standard procedure upon contact is to Retrieve critical mobileassets from the field of operations, Deter Grootslang’s engagement with fixedassets, and Retreat to the nearest safe distance. Direct confrontation is notadvised.

[ganymedesclock]

I’m biting the bullet and posting my generals’ backstory headcanons before s6 because I can’t lose, either s6 has a bunch of juicy backstory details that contradict me or there’s not much backstory and my headcanons are fine.

Acxa

Sibling theory, she’s older than Keith so she got to have a good childhood growing up close to both her parents, thinks of herself as a human and a galra, doesn’t talk about the non-galra side of her heritage much so this strong-held perception can be a bit of a surprise. After all barely anyone in the empire even knows what a human is and lately they’ve mostly been brought up in terms of “those rebel people who are most of Voltron” so this hasn’t been encouraging her to open up to, say, Haggar. 

Most people pretty much don’t care about what else she is besides “not pure galra”. Even Lotor and the other Generals don’t know she’s human- not that she didn’t trust them, she just doesn’t talk about it. 

There’s a standing draft on galra, including mixed race galra as long as you’re “galra enough”, to go to military academy. It’s somewhat loosely enforced- more or less the discretion of individual commanders who will often use it specifically as a punishment for “tax evasion”, I.E. having kids you don’t tell the government about. Acxa was more or less kidnapped and declared a ward of the state and there wasn’t much Krolia could do about it.

That wound her up in military academy- she started off incredibly scrappy / picked fights with anybody who so much as looked at her crosswise because she didn’t want to be here and everybody was gonna hear about it, but given her mixed race status she was disproportionately punished.

She effectively came out the other side as a perfectionist- buckle down and keep everything under wraps, perfect grades, perfect grooming, perfect record of behavior. The idea of “I’m a disliked minority but if I’m literally perfect, no one can hold it against me.” Which... predictably didn’t work out quite as hoped but it did get her considered for a higher position than a mixed race galra would normally be allowed for with a commander planning on snapping her up as a lieutenant as soon as she graduated.

Incidentally Lotor was sniffing around the academy at that point- he’d gotten himself nicely established resource-wise and had an opening for skilled manpower. As much as Acxa had “cleaned up” in the empire’s eyes, she was still raised by a Blade and Krolia’s rebel sentiment and Acxa’s love for her father, plus the harsh reception she had at the hands of the empire were basically all kindling for a pretty intense revolutionary sentiment- she hated what the empire stood for.

Lotor hit it off with her very strongly in terms of ideals, and his selling point to her heavily was the opportunity to change the empire, this bright future he believed in. Acxa was pretty starstruck by what he proposed and came out of that kind of... considering herself closer to Lotor because she felt like she had a keener sense of what he believed in.

The commander that had wanted her as a lieutenant gave her a relatively intimidating talk about how disappointing it was that she’d “settle for less” but she wasn’t about to be deterred.

Zethrid

Galra soldier mom, kythran dad. They met under... not ideal circumstances, he was technically breaking the law as a smuggler but she had sympathy for his cause (he was trying to protect people back home by getting needed resources to them) and pulled what strings she could to cover him / became his contact within the empire. That partnership became love, they had Zethrid, and kept her hidden.

Zethrid wasn’t found- her mom wasn’t suspected, being a “good soldier”, but her father was caught and executed by the empire, and mom couldn’t save them. That was a pretty hard blow to her emotionally, leaving her feeling like she couldn’t take care of Zethrid and that Zethrid was better off as far away from the empire as possible. She left Zethrid on Kythra with her partner’s relatives and then went back to the empire, cutting off contact entirely.

Zethrid grew up on Kythra raised by her paternal grandmother. She was pretty immersed in Kythran culture- “Zethrid” is a galra anglicization of a kythran name. Huge kythran pride- her granny was a tribal leader and a sweet-faced, stoop-backed woman who uses a cane to get around. The cane is actually a pretty high-powered rifle, as a couple of would-be bandits have found out the hard way. Everybody loves Am-Hal. Nobody messes with Am-Hal. Zethrid metamorphoses into the most well-mannered young lady you have ever seen around Am-Hal because she loves her gran. On the flipside she has high standards for respecting anybody else because if you’re in her esteem, you have to share that category with her gran and not just anybody gets to be mentioned in the same breath as gran.

Of the generals, Zethrid actually had a pretty happy childhood. Learned to shoot on Kythra, thanks to her galra genes she grew tall quickly and got pretty darn strong which in a closed community where the chores are everybody’s problem that was more of an asset than a liability. Really not too cut up about the separation from her mother- doesn’t hold the woman any enmity, but she kinda precluded having a relationship and Zethrid doesn’t really care to go hunting for that. 

Kythra had a history of being a “problem child” for the colonizing empire- they actually did a darn good job fighting back and their lack of permanent settlements and ability to navigate the environment / guerrilla warfare meant the local commander had resorted to different tactics and basically was trying to starve them out with a heavy embargo on resources. This was what had motivated Zethrid’s dad to become a smuggler.

This was what gave Zethrid the idea of going to military academy and becoming a soldier- it’d be good pay and if she could get a position in the occupying fleet she could open up more ways for resources to get to Kythra. In her wildest dreams maybe she could even take out the commander, give ‘em what’s coming to ‘em.

She basically had to pay out of pocket to get to the military academy, and quickly established herself as not somebody to be crossed but if you left her alone she’d do the same. (Most galra cadets think twice about crossing a large intimidating girl who’s very proud of her Kythran heritage and will drop you in the next hand-to-hand drill without hesitation). Easily the most disappointing thing for her was that compared to the ancestral craft of kythran gunsmiths, the standard imperial rifle did not measure up. “Where’s the kick? It feels like I’m shooting a piece of driftwood, not a gun.”

She and Acxa were classmates but didn’t know each other that well. Lotor was interested in securing a potential alliance with Kythra- since it’s technically an imperial colony that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows but they’d proved pretty darn willing to mess the empire up. Between the offer to disrupt the embargo / play some politics around Kythra, and the potential resources he had to offer, he was bidding significantly higher than any other job offer Zethrid had, so she took him up on it.

Ezor

Grew up on a crowded metropolitan planet with a similar population to the Space Mall, so not only was her non-galra heritage one of multiple races present, but she was hardly the only mixed race galra. As a result, she doesn’t have a super strong tie to either her father or her mother’s people- she characterizes herself more as “I’m just some punk kid from Talor.”

Her galra father was technically AWOL who ran away from the fleet to be with his sweetheart, but since there was a price on his head as a deserter, he was limited in the work he could take and with mostly mom supporting the family, it was a struggle to make ends meet. Ezor was the oldest of five children, and pretty early on, got involved doing whatever she could to make money and support her family. Grade school Ezor was a pretty good pickpocket.

Once she got old enough, she held down a lot of different jobs- largely service and hospitality. She developed her particular saccharine attitude holding those jobs, in particular being overlooked and underappreciated- on the surface she acted very conciliatory and eager-to-please because she needed this job but she started assembling a lot of resentment under the surface.

Things got worse when her father was caught by bounty hunters and chose to go quietly rather than potentially draw their attention back to his family. Ezor’s mom wasn’t quite... the same, after that, and started going through the motions for her kid’s benefit but broke down big time. Ezor basically became head of the household, especially when her mother not taking good care of herself led to her getting pretty sick.

At some point, quietly behind Ezor’s back, her mom took out a life insurance policy, so that when she died, the family suddenly received more money than they were expecting. While it wouldn’t last, it would be enough to put Ezor through military school- even grunt soldier pay was a lot better than anything she could get on the civilian side, so she went with it.

Military academy was basically just another job she hated but she was versed in jobs she hated, especially when she could find some common ground and vent her frustrations with Zethrid.

Lotor recruiting her went pretty much like this:

(It wasn’t exclusively about money, like... if you take someone who did customer service for years and offer them assassin training and a position where they can threaten people for talking badly to them, the “and I can easily outbid anyone else offering you a job at this point” was just icing)

Narti

Narti’s the only one of the generals who didn’t go to military school and is, in fact, not recognized as a legal citizen of the empire. She’s also the only general who’s less than half galra. Effectively she was a lab-grown chimera synthesized from multiple donors in an attempt to create a biological superweapon that was funded by a commander who’d formerly been in Haggar’s circle but had gotten kicked to the fringes and was bitter about it and trying to show them all!

Which, not that he had bad ideas, per se, but he was effectively trying to keep this base hidden by putting it in orbit around an unstable star... and there’s a reason nobody would want to go near that real estate. The base started collapsing before the project was, in his opinion, viable, so he abandoned the research and its one living specimen to be destroyed by the sun.

That didn’t happen, because Lotor caught wind of the base being abandoned and some research that its commander didn’t want getting into the wrong hands, and rallied his three new generals for a salvage operation.

Finding a someone, rather than a something, was not what they were expected, but none of them in good conscience really wanted to leave her there- she was mistaken for a prisoner rather than a specimen and rescued. She wasn’t about to clarify otherwise, not really used to the idea of being spoken to and expected to carry a conversation, or acknowledged as a person even. Ezor was the one who gave her the name “Narti”.

The revelation afterwards that she was very strong and had a host of powerful abilities was not one they were all prepared for, and Lotor in particular was deeply uneasy around her for a long time.

Their relationship kind of progressed from “the more I know about you the less easily I sleep at night” to “I, for one, am very glad she’s on our side because I’ve seen what happens to her enemies” to by the time we see them in s3 Lotor’s near-totally numb to it. Just. “Lotor, what the hell is your fourth general” “an associate of mine who does excellent work.”

She was pretty used to operating blind before Kova became her personal helper / eye buddy, but that made her able to read and learn to be a pilot. The more time she spent with the team the more she was developing... some inclination to voice her opinions one way or another, but for the most part she just enjoyed being acknowledged and feeling part of the conversation, even without speaking.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (52/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous Chapters conveniently available here

[9 June, 236 Before Age.  Luffasworld.]

Just as moons orbited planets and planets orbited stars, the galaxy was a system of at least a hundred billion stars all orbiting around a supermassive black hole at the center.  Surrounding the black hole was an accretion disk of matter.  This matter was close enough to the black hole to be pulled into its event horizon, and the gravitational forces compressed the matter enough to increase its temperature, causing the entire disk to emit electromagnetic radiation.  Among other reasons, this was why the very innermost part of the galaxy was completely uninhabitable by any mortal life forms.  

Consequently, when sapient beings spoke of the "center of the galaxy", they usually meant the region that lay safely beyond the accretion disk.   In that part of the galactic interior, there lay a dense stellar population of globular clusters, which contained the galaxy's oldest stars.  Navigation in this region of space was problematic, though not impossible.  Many of the stars in the galactic core had planets and moons, and a number of them were capable of supporting life.  But these older stars were formed with lower quantities of heavier elements, and so their planets and moons were born with little in the way of exploitable mineral resources.  So while travel and colonization were possible, there was little economic incentive, leaving many of these so-called "Core Worlds" untouched by intelligent life.  

Still, there was a market for just about anything in the universe, and the Core Worlds were no exception.  Among the galaxy's idle rich, there were those who liked the idea of owning their own planet, even if it was in an inconvenient location.  A handful of these actually visited their holdings from time to time, using them as personal retreats.  

Luffasworld was such a place, although its owner had no interest in recreation.  Indeed, the planet was less than ideal as a vacation getaway.  Its orbit around an orange dwarf star was situated in just a way to make the climate habitable, but not enjoyable.  There was a temperate zone around the equator, but no one bought an entire planet for just a thin strip of paradise.  A hardy band of colonists might have relished the challenge of making a life on the rest of the planet, growing crops in the tough sod of its plains, trapping furs in the taiga forests, or whatever else needed to be done.  But such colonists would have gone to a much more accessible planet in the outer rim.    

"It's perfect," Luffa said as she stepped off the ramp from her star-yacht.  She took a deep breath and started rubbing her hands together excitedly.  

"What's so great about this place, anyway?" Keda asked.  

"Everything," Luffa said.  "There's no moon to worry about, and there's plenty of different environments.  Jungles, deserts, mountains, tundra, you name it.  The surveyors only did an orbital scan of the planet, but they checked it for potential settlement.  The fresh water is potable, and the plants and animals are edible.  Everything you could want from a planet."

"Except people," Keda said.  "The nearest hospital is twenty light years away.  Bad place to have an accident, if you asked me."

"Nah, the whole point of this place is that I can finally cut loose without anyone getting in my way," Luffa said.  "Why do you think I spent so much time out in the wilderness back on Dorlu Prime?"

"Because you didn't have your own spaceship back then?" Keda suggested.

"First thing I want to do is set up the shelter," Luffa said.  That way you can take the ship on supply runs or whatever else you guys want to do."

"You want us to just leave you here?" Keda asked.  The young Dorlun was visibly concerned.  

"I'll be fine," Luffa said.  "Look, I've got a lot of work to do here, but there's no reason for the rest of you to sit around on a deserted planet waiting on me."

"Yeah, but..."

Luffa snapped her fingers.  "No, scratch that, the shelter can wait.  First thing I want to do is have a look around.  Back in about an hour, okay?"

She leaped into the air and flew off into the horizon.  Keda watched her go, then shrugged and went back aboard.

*******

[12 June 236 Before Age.  Shafulb.]

Tik-Tak was the Archduke of planet Kopey.  It was the title bestowed upon him following the Monarchist Restoration Crisis on his world.  His father had been "First Citizen" of Kopey, a title that better suited the Egalitarian Revolution of that period.  Before that, Tik-Tak's grandmother had reigned as the Undisputed Sun-Empress.  Each of them had held the same basic authority, but the title changed to reflect shifts in the political climate, which were frequent on Kopey.  A dynasty like Tik-Tak's had learned to survive by being flexible.  

This tradition of flexibility was why he joined Luffa's grand alliance of worlds, which eventually became the Federation.  Though he was privately skeptical of the proposal, he couldn't deny the benefits of the alliance, nor could he argue against Luffa's ability to enforce the agreement.  And for a time, the Federation had been a successful venture.

But things had changed, as they always did.  And so he found himself on Planet Shafulb, a theocratic world which had once been a rival power to Kopey before they had joined together as Federation members.  There, he hoped to determine his next move.  It might have disturbed his father and grandmother to see him plotting alongside the Vicar of Shafulb, but Tik-Tak knew they would understand.  

"Nervous, dearie?" Drang Dedruhn asked.  She was a large creature with smooth, shiny skin, black on the back and white on the front.  Her blue raiment represented the holy office she served, but her broad smile full of peg-like teeth suggests a more cynical attitude to leadership.  

"How can I not be nervous, Vicar?" Tik-Tak asked.  "Marshall Booth consolidates his power with each passing day.  How long before we must call him 'Federator Booth'?"

"Nonsense!" Drang said with a wave of her flipper-like hand.  "Booth has more sense than to usurp Luffa's position so blatantly."

"He has the tact perhaps," Tik-Tak countered.  "But I see no reason why he couldn't assume full control of the Council.  In a year, he may well rule over us all like an emperor, even if he insists on keeping the title of 'Marshall'."

Drang took a handful of morsels from a bowl on her desk and stuffed them into her mouth.  She nudged the bowl towards Tik-Tak, who politely declined.  "You should eat more, Tik-Tak," she said.  "Your exoskeleton looks a little paler than when I saw you last."

"Ever since Luffa disappeared, Booth has exerted more and more control," Tik-Tak muttered.  "He was already in command of the military, but now he no longer takes direction from the Council.  Luffa was the only direct check on his authority, and she's gone into exile, which only emboldens him to seize even more power!"

"Booth is incorrigible, isn't he?" Drang chortled.  "Worse, he's actually popular for once.  He came out of the war looking like a hero, so when he claims more authority, no one seems to mind."

"No one except you, Vicar," Tik-Tak said.  "You've defied him rather brazenly, albeit quietly."

She chuckled.  "Oh, I merely do as the Holy Tide bids, dearie," Drang said.  "I truly wanted to cooperate with Booth's proposal--for the good of the Federation, you understand--but after much consultation and prayer, I simply had to refuse him."

"He could send troops to occupy your moon," Tik-Tak said.  "Then build the installation without your permission."

"But he hasn't, Archduke."

"Why not?  What do you have over him?"

She smiled insincerely and held out her hands.  "I serve a higher power, Tik-Tak.  I suppose a heathen such as yourself wouldn't be able to understand that."

"Oh, enough of that," Tik-Tak grumbled.  "I will respect your religious office to a point, but my family has crossed swords with you long enough to know better than to underestimate you, Vicar.  You know something, don't you?  Either you have information that would compromise Booth's power grab, or you've been in contact with Luffa.  That must be it.  Unless... unless you've entered into secret negotiations with Wist...!"

Drang cackled with relish at this suggestion.  "Let's say any of those are true," she replied.  "Skies above!  Let's say they're all true, why don't we?  If I had that kind of inside knowledge, why would I share any of it with you?"

"Fine.  Perhaps I have been a bit presumptuous, Vicar," Tik-Tak said, backing down.  He clacked his claws together in a apologetic gesture, although he wasn't sure the Shafulbian would recognize this.  "But you won't deny that you know something.  Something important."

"Oh my," Drang said.  "I do believe I see it now.  After I turned down Booth's generous proposal to built a military base in my system, he went to you, didn't he?"

"No," Tik-Tak grumbled.  "He went to Penticede IV, and my sources tell me they plan to accept.  You see?  The worlds of the Federation are choosing sides, and if a power like Penticede IV is siding with Booth, then it's only a matter of time before I must choose a well.  The choice should be obvious, and yet..."

"And yet I would seem to have made the foolish choice," Drang chuckled.  "Only I'm no fool, am I, Tik-Tak?  Your grandmother found that out the hard way during the Eight Years War, didn't she?"

Tik-Tak nodded.  

"Oh, your grandmother.   There are days when I actually miss that old harlot," Drang said wistfully.  "Tell you what, why don't we talk again in a few weeks?  I'll visit Kopey and we can tour the spot where the Sun-Empress and I signed the treaty.  And if you haven't found your answer by then, I'll share it with you."

*******

[26 June 236 Before Age.  Luffasworld]

There had been sensor sweeps and geological surveys of Luffasworld, but these had all been conducted years ago, and from orbit.  None of the planet's features had ever been named or even catalogued, and so the honor fell upon the world's new owner, who didn't especially care.  Upon visiting the three largest deserts on the planet, she eventually named them "Easy", "Medium" and "Hard" in order of the severity of their climate.  To keep from getting lost, she preferred to make her own landmarks, like the fifty-foot wide trenches she had made in Hard Desert.  

She had fallen into a routine as of late.   By the end of her day, after drilling various ki techniques in Hard Desert, she would fly west to Target Practice Mountain, mostly to blow off steam.  Then she would take the long way back to Campsite Forest, and admire the sunset along one of the shorelines.  If anyone had asked her to name it, she might have called it "Pretty Coast".  

In the center of Campsite Forest was a dome-shaped building atop a mound of earth.  She had built both herself, using clay and rock from other locations.  For a time, she had considered building more, since the first project had been a decent workout, but she had turned her attention to other regimens.  

"I'm home," she called as she walked through the archway entrance.  

"You're back early," Zatte said.  She was reading a computer pad and sitting in one of the deck chairs they had taken from the yacht.  Most of the furniture had come from the ship, which had been designed as a luxury pleasure craft, so while the house itself was primitive, the interior was oddly stylish.  

"Well, I had a pretty good day out there, so I figured I'd quit while I was ahead," Luffa said.  She crossed the room and inspected the slow cooker in the area they had designated as the kitchen.  "I think I'm gonna bake some of those tubers I found for dinner.  How many you want?"

"None," Zatte said.  "I'm still checking them."

Luffa turned to face her and crossed her arms.  "Zattie, they're fine."

"I know."

"The medical scanner cleared them.  No toxins, no pathogens.  Just plenty of starch and Vitamin B6."

"I know.  You showed me."

"Then why won't you eat them?"

"I did eat a piece of one," Zatte said.  "I rubbed a little on my arm and didn't get a rash, then I tasted it.  Nothing wrong there, so I ate it.  If I don't get sick in the next three days, it's fine."

"That's dumb," Luffa said.  

"No, it's the Universal Edibility Test," Zatte said.  "It's a Dorlun ritual on an unfamiliar planet.  Not everybody has a cast iron stomach like you Saiyans."

"Oh, come on," Luffa snorted.

"You should listen to me.  My species has tamed harsher environments than this with a lot less technology than what we've got," Zatte said, raising her index finger.   "What if there's toxins on this planet that aren't in the scanner's database?  What if the scanner breaks down for some reason?  We're a long way from a repair shop, you know.  You're lucky you've got an expert survivalist like me here to watch out for you."

"Yeah, but I still think you worry too much," Luffa said.

"Aw, you say the sweetest things sometimes," Zatte said.  "But I still don't want any tubers.  Ask me again in three days."

"Fine, more for me, I guess," Luffa said with a shrug.  She activated the portable stovetop and began poking holes in some tubers with a fork.   "At least you like my pot roast.  Anything going on around here?"

"Keda called.  She's on her way back from the Hobstot System.  Should be back at the landing site tomorrow night.  I thought we'd go over and see her."

"Sounds good.  I hope she found more of that cheese I liked.  It'd really go well with these tubers..."

"Oh, I think I finally straightened things out with the caterers."

"Good," Luffa said.  "What was their problem anyway?"

"Somebody got the order mixed up and thought you were a Sayvunn," Zatte explained.  "So they couldn't understand why we wanted so much food for such a small guest list."

"Sayvunn?" Luffa asked.  

"Yeah, I've never heard of them either, but apparently they only eat once a week."

"Poor bastards," Luffa said.  "Well, that's their problem.  So are we all set now or what?"

"I still need to clear up a few details on the license application, but yeah, I think we're on," Zatte said.  "You nervous?"

"Honestly?  Yeah."

"It's just a ceremony," Zatte said.  "We don't even have to do that part to make it official.  You're the one who wanted to get dressed up."

"I know," Luffa said.  "I just thought my first marriage was going to last forever, and... well you know how that turned out."

"Right."

"I mean I'm sure about this.  I want to do this, but I was so sure the last time, too.  I never expected to be doing it all over again, and you're an alien, and I've changed so much, and..."

"I know what you mean," Zatte said. "Well, I've never been married before, but everything else..."

Luffa finished wrapping the last tuber in aluminum foil, then sniffed at the air.  "Did you hear that?" she asked.  

"No," Zatte said.  She laid down her pad and rose from her seat.  "What is it?"

Luffa pointed to one of the round windows along the wall.  "Sounded like something rustling around outside the house.  Like an animal, but I can't pick up a scent."

"It'd better not be," Zatte said.  "I put enough sharpened stakes along the hillside to discourage just about anything."

"Could be something smaller, like a scavenger," Luffa said.  "Come on, we'd better take look."

*******

[26 June 236 Before Age.  Kopey.]

The Eight Years War between Shafulb and Kopey had formally ended with a treaty signing on Kopey, which at the time was viewed as a great step forward for the cause of galactic peace.  The site was dedicated as a monument, but that was one century and two revolutions ago, and eventually the entire area was rezoned for commercial use.  Drang and Tik-Tak sat at a corner table of a sports bar, which was as close as one could get to the original location of the treaty signing without smashing a wall and stepping halfway into the restroom on the other side.  

"Times have certainly changed," Drang chuckled as she dipped her appetizers into various sauces.   Tik-Tak thought she resembled a painter choosing a palette for a canvas.

"It must be difficult for you to see this area built up this way," Tik-Tak said.  

"Not at all, dearie," she replied.  "The food at the treaty signing was lousy.  They needed a good restaurant around here, and now they finally have one.  Better late than never, I always say."

For security purposes, the two heads of state had the entire establishment to themselves.  A crowd of armed guards stood at the entranceway and at least one stood on the opposite corner of the room, occasionally giving suspicious looks to the waitstaff.  Drang had asked that the video monitors in the room be changed to news feeds, and they had been watching the latest coverage for the past twenty minutes.  

"How did you know?" Tik-Tak finally asked.  She simply giggled and placed an appetizer into her mouth.

He was referring to recent developments in Federation politics.  Marshall Booth's planned construction on Penticede IV had backfired spectacularly.  The Pentiss legislature had tried to ramrod the approval against public outcry.  Eventually, the planet's prime executive vetoed the measure in an attempt to bolster sagging poll numbers.  At the same time, Booth's people had been trying to survey the construction site, figuring the arrangement was a certainty.  Protests erupted across the planet, and the next election cycle on Penicede IV was now being interpreted as a referendum on Booth's power grab.  

Today's top story was a new wrinkle: the protests had spread to other worlds across the Federation, including Booth's homeworld of Woshad.   One of the video screens showed dramatic footage of armed soldiers confronting civilians.  Most of the protestors had their hair dyed yellow, or they wore yellow wigs.  Many of them held out their hands and curled in their fingers, as though daring the troops to come and get them.  

"Normally, I despise the idea of a free press," Drang said between bites.  "But I have to admit that it has its advantages."

"My sources tell me that Booth is already backing down," Tik-Tak said.  "He had come here looking to set up another military installation on my world, but he revoked the proposal the day after all of... this got started."

"He'd better work fast," Drang said with an amused snort.  "Or he'll be worse off than when he started this little power play."

"But these are just... protests," Tik-Tak exclaimed.  "He has the power..."

"They're not just protests, Archduke.  They're a reminder," Drang said.  "Booth never had the power for any of this.  Otherwise, he would have conquered both our planets and every other Federation world years before Luffa arrived on the scene.  He's only as powerful as he is now because Luffa formed the Federation, and because Luffa convinced the member worlds agreed to pool their military forces under his command."

"But Luffa is gone!" Tik-Tak said.  "And she was defeated..."

"She'll be back," Drang said.  "That's the message those little heathens are sending to Booth.  He can have his way for now, but if he steps too far out of line..." She trailed off and began to laugh at the thought of that reckoning.  

"But you don't know that!" Tik-Tak argued.  "No one does!"

"You're right," Drang said.  "For all we know she's already faced the Shockmaster again and he killed her.  Or she's abandoned the Federation once and for all.  But the people believe otherwise, and even if they're wrong, that belief has left an indelible impression.  They'll never be as powerful as a Super Saiyan, but she's shown them how to be just as stubborn and defiant.  Booth might be rid of her, but he won't do away with her legacy quite so easily."

He clicked his claws for a moment and stared at the footage on the screen. Most of the protesters looked somewhat foolish in their homemade Luffa costumes, but  there was a humanoid woman in the crowd who looked just enough like a Saiyan that he almost thought it was the real thing.  He was startled for a moment, and then he realized that if Booth saw this same footage, the Marshall would probably be even more startled.  

"But it's all based on nothing but speculation," he mumbled.  "A gamble."

"No, not a gamble, Tik-Tak," Drang said with a smug grin.  "It's faith.  The same thing that's kept me in power for over a century.  Whether you believe it or not, the people on Shafulb believe I'm their rightful leader, and I do try not to dissuade them.  I'd prefer that these sinful rabble put their trust in something less secular, but the principle is the same.  Luffa's no saint, but she's fought for the Federation before, and asked for very little in return.  Small wonder she would become this kind of inspiration."

She looked down at her appetizers and smiled at the site of them.  "Hmmph, all this over a little Saiyan.  Amazing, really.  You know, you really should have something to eat, Tik-Tak.  You're no good to your people if you're malnourished."

He looked at the video screens again, and then down at the plate laid before him.  He hadn't even touched his share of the meal.  For the first time in weeks, he found he had an appetite again.  

"You know, Vicar," he said, glancing back at the protest footage one more time.  "I believe I will."

*******

[26 June 236 Before Age.  Kopey.]

Well after sunset, Luffa sat on the ground outside of the house, covered in wet towels.  Behind her, Zatte was scrubbing her hair and trying not to laugh.  

"It's not funny," Luffa fumed.  

"Why did you try to grab it in the first place?" Zatte asked.  She dipped a towel into a bucket, wrung it, then went back to work.  

"I thought it looked tasty, all right?" Luffa said.  "How was I supposed to know it could spray that awful smell out of its butt?"

"At least the stench is almost gone," Zatte said.  "Lucky for you we had enough baking soda and hydrogen peroxide to mix up this antidote.  Otherwise you might have had to sleep out here tonight."

"Shut up!" Luffa growled.  "If you think it stinks, just imagine how bad it is for me."

"I know," Zatte said patiently.  "You're very sensitive that way."

"If the little creep hadn't sprayed me and burned out my nostrils, I bet I could track him from a mile away," Luffa muttered.  Then she started shaking her fist as she shouted into the forest: "And I will, too, you hear me?!  This isn't over!  I'll eat your entire race!"

Zatte gave up on trying not to laugh.  

"Don't you dare mention any of this to Keda," Luffa warned.  

"Why would I--?"

"I mean it, Zattie.  Not one word..."

"Fine.  If she asks what we’ve been up to lately, I'll tell her you read love poetry to me all night."

"For an 'expert survivalist', you sure like living dangerously,"  Luffa growled.

"I'd better wash your tail, just to be on the safe side." Zatte said.  

Luffa crossed her arms and pouted.  

"So did the last Super Saiyan ever get married?" Zatte asked.  

"Huh?"

"I was just thinking about it before," Zatte said as she soaked another towel in the bucket.  

"Well, you're kind of putting me on the spot," Luffa said, her tone growing more relaxed as she gathered her thoughts.  "All the old stories say Chanisp had a harem.  Consorts, concubines, servant girls, 'advisors', you name it.  Some of those might have been full-on spouses, but there's no way to know."

"Doesn't sound much like any Saiyan I ever heard of," Zatte observed.  

"You’re right, come to think of it, but he was a big shot," Luffa said.  "He saved the entire Saiyan race from extinction, and then he went off looking for even bigger battles to fight.  They say he conquered so many planets that he had to conquer a whole other planet just to store all the spoils."

"And all the women," Zatte added.

"Yeah, he had an entire castle for them," Luffa said.  "Anyway, he could do anything he pleased, so maybe he didn't feel so inhibited about... you know.  He had about two-hundred children, and those were just the full-blooded Saiyans.  No telling how many half-breeds he sired.  I don't know how you'd keep track of a family that big..."

"Compared to all that, a second marriage doesn't sound so difficult," Zatte said.  

"Heh.  When you put it that way, I guess not."  

Luffa looked up at the night sky.  Being so close to the galactic center meant that there were far more stars to see, and the sky was much brighter than she was used to  on a planet like this.   Zatte dumped out the bucket and started putting the towels away.  

"So do I get to sleep inside?" Luffa asked.  

"I think you're back to tolerable levels," Zatte said.  "So you can come back in the house.  The harem took a vote and it was unanimous."

Luffa made a sigh of mock relief, and they went back into the house, arm in arm.  

NEXT: Long Shadows.

[shirlleycoyle]

Death and Other Gentrifying Neighborhoods

What you’re about to read—a deft, darkly provocative vision of a near-future that encompasses climate change, sexuality, and the politics of gentrification, to note just a few themes here—is one of the richest, most densely idea-packed speculations you’re ever likely to get your eyeballs on. And it could only have come from the mind of Sam J. Miller, SF writer, community organizer, and author of the Nebula-nominated Blackfish City. I won’t spoil this electrifying piece any further—enjoy. -the Ed.

People say you can’t tell the difference when they aren’t wearing their armbands, but that’s bullshit. Anyone with eyes and even a shred of insight can identify a reboot. Especially when one is fucking you. Especially when they aren’t wearing a condom.

“Sorry,” Ejj said, pulling out. “I got carried away.” “It’s cool,” I said. “If I was worried I would have told you to stop.”

I was super worried. Supposedly reboot syphilis was fucking nuts, having evolved to survive the nano-lymph that kept reboots from rotting. I told myself that was propaganda, more bullshit about reboots being sick, evil, dangerous, crazy. But I did not completely convince myself.

Ejj sat. Lit a cigarette. Air horns sounded, outside. Stalled boats on the Biscayne Boulevard canal. Miami mid-afternoon; just another coastal city abandoned by almost everyone, reclaimed by reboots. I hated my job, but it did allow for moments like this one.

His body was beautiful. I let my fingers trace his jawline, the stubble that would never grow longer than it was. Shame leaked into my arteries ( corpse-fucker) but the sensation was not completely unpleasant. A spatter of raised flesh lumps lay across his stomach. Posthumous grafting. “Is that where it happened?” I asked.

“It’s rude to ask that,” he said. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know.”

I did know. But he’d just ejaculated inside me, so I figured we had reached a higher level of intimacy. Apparently Ejj agreed, because he laughed and said, “Yeah, that’s it—ICE camp perimeter bomb shrapnel. He bled out on the way back to his cell.”

This surprised me. Most reboots didn’t want to know about the people who had occupied their bodies before. “Do you remember it?” I whispered, almost against my will.

He shook his head sadly, but only after a very slight pause. Like maybe he did, but didn’t care to share something so personal and painful. That’s what had caught my eye, when I’d seen him on the sex app. The thumbnail was all brute scowling studliness, but then I’d clicked in and the full-screen version showed me something else in the eyes. Something fragile.

“I know why you’re here,” he said, and put a hand on my thigh. “Of course you do,” I said, grinning. “No,” he said, abruptly. “I know why you’re in Miami.”

I held tight to the smile on my face, so he wouldn’t see the sudden fear.

“You’re here working on the server farms. Aren’t you?” “Yeah,” I said.

There was no sense lying about it. Telecom employees were flooding the flooded cities. The ones that hadn’t prepared for the rising seas, and died, and been revived by the reboots. Where better to build the new solar-powered water-cooled server banks, than the cities that had nothing left but sunlight and seawater? The fact that doing so would cause massive disruptions to the people who lived there didn’t seem to bother anyone. Because the people who lived there were dead.

Death is just another country to colonize, my supervisor Mitchell had told me, before my boat went east from New Orleans. The afterlife is one more neighborhood to gentrify. He paid me shit and he thought he was a poet. He was also a fellow reboot fetishist, and thought that made us kindred souls. Of course he swore it wasn’t a fetish. So did I. Fetish sounded bad. Just a preference, our profiles said.

But, yeah, it sort of was a fetish. I could see that, now, with Ejj’s sad eyes on mine. He was a person. My fantasies of being held down and ravaged by a corpse hadn’t taken that into account. I felt bad enough about it that when he said, “Come with me? I want to show you something,” I said yes, even though I knew better.

One on one they’re harmless, Mitchell had said, wiping wet egg from his mouth, mostly. Sometimes you get one that’s, I dunno, glitchy, crazy, but mostly they know better. When they get together, that’s when you need to worry. We’ve been hearing about these reboot resistance cells… who knows when they might start acting crazy. You don’t wanna be in the wrong place at the wrong time, end up as That Guy who gets kidnapped and decapitated on camera.

Mitchell disgusted me, and he worked me too hard, but that didn’t make him wrong. Miami was hot and wet, when we walked out into it. I blinked in the bright light. Ejj did not. I wondered if he’d overclocked his eyes. We stepped onto the pontoon walkway and headed west.

“So your” (don’t say ‘predecessor,’ they hate that) “body… it was a refugee in an ICE camp,” I said, trying to sound unafraid. “What about your mind? Who was he? Or she.”

“The dichotomy is a false one,” he said. “Thinking like that—body versus brain—is exactly why pre-corpses like you got us into this mess.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not flinching at the slur. “I’m the product of an ignorant and biased system. Enlighten me. Deconstruct that dichotomy.”

Ejj held eye contact, scanning my face for sincerity. “Fine,” he said. “So, sixty years ago, we develop the tech to do brain uploads. Man’s triumph over death, right? Live forever, if you can afford it. The developing world has too many young corpses and the developed one has too many old minds. Two birds, one stone. Reboot the corpses, slot them full of nano-lymph so they never rot or age, wipe the brain, upload a new one. Except, surprise. The mind is only half of who you are. The body is the other half. Put an old brain into a fresh body and you don’t get to start over—you get a completely new person.”

Wind hit me. Colder than I’d been expecting. Soon the sun would set. We were leaving the heart of the reboot settlement, approaching the server farms that already existed.

“A woman’s new body goes into full PTSD fight response when her husband of forty years touches her. A famous concert pianist’s new hands can’t make chords. And a thousand other tiny differences. Are you really so ignorant you’ve never heard any of this?”

“No,” I said. I’d read all the best reboot authors. Memorized all their music. But I wasn’t about to say that to Ejj. Some folks got touchy about pre-corpses laying claim to their culture. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m my own person,” he said. “I’m not Ellicent Troff, senior vice president of communications at Smeerp!, or Jagajeet Bahawalanzai, Bangladeshi mason who died outside of Trenton. I’m me.”

The intensity of his gaze unsettled me. I remembered his picture on the app. What if it wasn’t fragility I’d seen in his eyes? What if it was crazy? Like any enlightened person, I knew it was mostly lies, when the media said reboots were dangerous. The news stories about assaults and murders and drug trafficking by reboots—I figured these were statistical anomalies, repeated only to sow fear and support for pro-incarceration politicians. But here, now, in the dying sunlight, alone with a beautiful man who had already ejaculated inside me and could murder me effortlessly, I was not so confident.

“People paid millions to bring their loved ones back, but what they got were strangers. And these strangers started walking out on them. Forming reboot settlements, far away from the pre-corpses who didn’t understand them. Suddenly no one was in a hurry to triumph over death anymore.”

We’d reached the servers. Great flippered pods, rotating too slowly to be seen by the naked eye. Bored people in canoes paddled slowly up and down the expanse of them, shotguns sleeping in their laps. Already, they were too closely packed on the side streets. Soon the pods would spread east, right down the center of the boulevard canal, disrupting the reboot thoroughfare.

“Until these new server farms. Suddenly you could upload into the cloud and live forever that way. Pay poor people shit to take care of you. Pre-corpses and reboots alike. And if it wasn’t really you that got uploaded, who gave a shit? You were just data. You wouldn’t be making your loved ones’ lives miserable until they died and joined you. You’re a tertiary security analyst, right?”

“How did you know that?” I asked. “We’re blowing this server strip up next week,” he said, unsmilingly. “Wait—what?” “Our Opa-Locka fish farm has been diverting waste for explosives. We’ve got enough to take out almost half of it.”

I stammered, “You know that’s crazy, right? This is barely a tenth of the total servers in Miami alone. To say nothing of the state, the eastern seaboard, the fucking planet…” “We know all that.” “And… the system has massive redundancies built in. At any given moment the files on this server are stored on 499 others, scattered around the globe. Blowing this one up will have no impact on the people stored here.” “Won’t it, though? There’s a psychological value, to an attack like that. Lets them know we’re not so weak they can keep fucking us raw.”

I winced, at the implied insult. “But they won’t—” “They’ll be forced to increase security. Not just here—at all their server farms. That’ll exponentially increase the cost of operations.”

The protests died in my mouth. It would not shut.

“Why do you think I picked you?” he asked. “You… picked me? I’m the one who hit you up.” “You hit up ten of us this morning, didn’t you? I know you did. Half of us were sitting together at the time.”

Fear had frozen my whole body. I couldn’t make myself nod, but I did not need to.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I finally found the strength to ask. Ejj laughed. “What, you think we’re going to kill you?” “Or kidnap me,” I said. “Maybe cut my head off on the air, later.” Ejj’s laugh cut out abruptly. “You people are seriously sick.” He kept walking. I followed, too frightened not to. Who might be watching, from the big broken-glass towers that surrounded us?

“You could run tell your superiors,” he said. “Maybe they could avert this attack. But we’d strike elsewhere. And they’d be forced to beef up security all the same. That, too, would increase the cost of operations. A very acceptable outcome, as far as we’re concerned. But there’s another option here. One where you pretend this whole conversation never happened.”

“Why would I…”—but my voice trailed off, thinking of Mitchell, cheerfully fucking the dead boys he’d made homeless.

“We’ve been watching you for a while,” Ejj said. “I’ve seen your posts. I know your heart’s in the right place. But I also know you haven’t fully understood the consequences of your actions. You think because you scold someone for calling us zombies online your conscience is clear, but then you help the people destroying our homes. Between getting called names and having my community dismantled, I’d much rather you call me names.”

A bell clanged, on a buoy somewhere. Dogs barked. Chickens squabbled. This wasn’t just where people lived. This was someone’s home. Was Mitchell what I wanted to be?

“Let me guess,” Ejj said. “They told you that loyal service to the company would be rewarded. That they’d upload you, once you got to a certain level of corporate investiture. Didn’t they?”

I didn’t answer. He knew it was true.

“Did you ever stop to think about how stupid that is?”

I shook my head. I really hadn’t.

“There’s fifty thousand tertiary security analysts at your company alone. To say nothing of primary, secondary… at all the other telecoms… Server capacity is, what, an additional five thousand uploads a year?” “If we keep growing…” “I know that’s what you tell yourself. Why you do what you do, for them. When you know, on some level, that it’s wrong. And you have to see that the math doesn’t track.” The pity in Ejj’s eyes opened up a tiny crack inside me. “Whether they’ll find a way to fire you before your investiture, or just fucking lie and say they uploaded you, or something else entirely, I don’t know.”

A septic smell wafted south.

“You could help us out a hell of a lot, Connor.” His hand was warm on my arm. Ejj sat. Called hello to a woman in a passing skiff. Her smile was magnificent. Between Mitchell and Ejj, there was really no question.

I sat. My bare feet slid into the cold salty water. Several stories above us, a child’s scream collapsed into laughter.

“Hypothetically,” I whispered. “What would you want me to do?”

Sam J. Miller is a writer and a community organizer. His debut novel The Art of Starving (HarperTeen) was one of NPR’s Best Books of 2017, and won the Andre Norton Award for Best Young Adult Science Fiction Novel. His current novel, Blackfish City (Ecco Press; Orbit) was a “Best Book of the Year” according to Publishers Weekly and Kirkus Reviews, and was called ” an action-packed science fiction thriller” and “surprisingly heartwarming” by the Washington Post. His stories have appeared in over a dozen “year’s best” anthologies. He’s a graduate of the Clarion Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Workshop, and a winner of the Shirley Jackson Award. He lives in New York City, and at samjmiller.com.

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