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batsplat · 7 months ago

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pecco rant please please

*spins wheel on possible topics* absurdly underrated but in a dumb way. you'd think you can stumble your way into two premier class titles. I don't care he's on the best bike - let's be honest, how often this century have the title winners not been on the best bike? 2004 and to a lesser extent 2005 you can say clearly weaker bike, 2007 late 2010s 2021 there's a clear enough disparity with anyone else riding the bike that you can say clearly the rider is making the difference/it's an unrideable wreck one guy is making respectable, then there's a few seasons where it's at least very close whose machinery is best or they're fighting with people on equal equipment, which pecco has done! but generally speaking, good/promising riders end up on good bikes and then they win. that's how the game works!

the thing about 2022 is that it had such a massive mid-season swing that overhauling a ninety something point margin cannot come down to any single factor. is it fair to say fabio lost that title? on balance, it's a bit harsh - yes, there were a few too many errors post-sachsenring, yes, some were driven by desperation, but also you can't really expect anyone to ride a flawless season. but pecco did win that title as much as yamaha lost it. I don't care if you're riding a literal rocketship with two wheels, you can't win four races in a row if you're not extremely good at what you do! if we're saying that title was worth less because the yamaha turned to shit in the second half of the season, then let's keep going. let's put an asterisk next to 2013 because jorge and dani both got injured (let's not even get into the 'if marc hadn't been injured' asterisks because that's where you get into truly silly territory). is 2006 not a legit title because of all the bad luck valentino faced that year? let's say all titles between 2007 to 2015 were worth less because at any one time only 4-6 bikes had a realistic chance of winning races. throw out any title before 2009 because they were constantly fucking about with the tyres and there wasn't a level playing field. if you're motivated enough, you can play this game with basically anything, but it's dumb and pointless because that's not how sports works! you can only win against whoever you're facing. it has always been thus and it will always be thus

it's narratively fun and juicy that pecco has these insecurities himself - but within the context of everyone else doing discourse over it, the whole thing is massively overblown! linked to some of the worst sports discourse about how much people love to disparage late bloomers, because they need every single successful athlete to fit the same mould of the ultra-talented wunderkind, apparently. it's more interesting when it's not always the most 'talented' (whatever tf that means), naturally gifted, *fast the second he touches a bike* bloke who wins. sometimes they have to work hard for it, sometimes they have to improve themselves year on year and be smart about how they do it, sometimes they have to be in the right place and right time, sometimes they have to be very lucky. sports is all about competition, and competition is all about contrast. it's a contrast that can be generated in a whole lot of ways, and in fairness to motogp they have come up with a bunch of interesting narratively tense contests that don't rely on a massive fundamental 'talent' differential - but at the end of the day, that's one of the best ones you can have! the more ways you can have to win in any given sport, the better, both in the literal sense of how you go about the actual process of winning and how you even become a winner. none of this means that pecco isn't very very good, it means he got there in a different way than every other multiple champ this century has. it fundamentally flattens the sport if you want every top-level competitor to be an alien-level talent... one of the best things about this current era is that it has given us something new and exciting in that regard, where you well and truly believe some very different blokes might have what it takes to eventually be champion

anyway, pecco is absurdly adept at digging himself into holes and absurdly adept at digging himself out of them. he's one of the worst frontrunners imaginable in every sense, biologically incapable of dominating without at least a perpetual hint of jeopardy, both in the context of a race and a season. but when his back is against the wall, somehow he keeps finding performances you never imagined he was capable of. his mixed up and slightly odd skillset, his strengths and weaknesses, how he's better and worse than he has any right to be... all of it lends itself to perpetual momentum shifts and thrilling seasons - because you never quite know what you're going to get. love him or hate him, he's a gift to the overall competitive landscape! god knows the racing hasn't been much to write home about these last few years (though, yes, we did have a good little run this season), but somehow he's managed to get himself involved in two out of the six title deciders this century back-to-back. is that not the dream for the viewer, to have a bloke at the top of the sport with a little self-combust chip in his head every time he builds too much of an advantage? build a hundred of those guys! throw a marc marquez at him and see what he does! I can't wait to see what he'll come up with next

#this is a rant in the truest sense of the word that i didn't structure or edit this and wrote it in one go #to be clear this is ZERO comment on people vibing or not vibing with him as a human being. idc!! this is about competition!!#i've accidentally ended up in a place with this sport where i HAPPEN to like some absurdly talented freaks #who were disgustingly dominant. which means i have now stumbled into a fan space filled with people who are really into dominance #not my vibe!! at all!! two of my favourite valentino seasons are 2006 and 2015. 2015 is also one of my fave marc seasons #not gonna say what my fave casey seasons are bc it feels a bit like kicking a puppy when it's down but well it's not the title winning ones #want marc to suffer a normal amount!! it's all about putting these guys in situations... if you're just talented and successful who CAREEES #i loveeeeeee athletes who self sabotage..... love how for pecco building confidence is really a Project like it isn't natural!!#and good lord don't get me about team orders discourse. you'd think he had seven ducati riders holding his hands #a little bit of corruption is good sometimes... adds narrative spice #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #'loves 2006 and heart rate easily clears 100 every time marc marquez does anything in a race' perhaps the world's worst rossi fan?#reverse is true too tbf but at least that contradiction feels fundamental to the full marc marquez experience #current tag

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sphnyspinspin · 7 months ago

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OMG, I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SHARE THIS AU FOR A MINUTE—

Meet my Magnificence Reforged AU Connie!

Though Scorponok only ever referred to her as Experiment: A9-2416 (usually in Decepticon dialect).

Her story is that Scorponok created her as an experiment to see what would happen if an organic was able to produce a set of chemicals that are deemed somewhat powerful, yet common, by organic standards but emphasized to a certain degree with the help of Cybertronian technology. Entirely inspired by the mere Earth-Human conceptual myth known as the—

Indomitable Human Spirit.

What Scorponok was able to take away from eight years of properly caring for the experiment is that these chemicals that fuel basic organic functioning can be utilized exponentially to a degree where a full grown one of these things could even rival some of Cybertron’s strongest warriors. Maybe even the galaxy’s toughest warriors wouldn’t be able to stand a chance.

It became labeled as Adrenalineregon.

(dope naming skills I know)

It turned out to be some crazy-powerful stuff once injected into a strong enough specimen.

Now why would Scorponok need to make something like this? Power? Recognition? Fun? All of the above honestly. But it’s also because in this Alternate Universe the Decepticons won the war for Cybertron, and Megatron has already built his perfect Decepticon Army to conquer the rest of the known universe, and he and the Grand Architect thought their Army of Tarn clones needed a little more pep-in-their-step.

You heard me. TARN. CLONE. ARMY.

(this isn’t a specifically cyberverse based timeline I just took the tarn army as inspo)

But what they didn’t expect was for the Tarn clones to go insane and turn on each other when being on mere drops of Adrenalineregon. Resulting in a mass extinction of Tarn Clones, with too many bodies to count, therefore being dropped on top of Scorpnok’s planet sized lab to remind him of the consequences of his actions.

EX: A9-2416 was, at the time, forever curious about the outside world, since she’s never been above the expansive laboratory planet’s surface. It always felt as if some unseen beings were trying to lead her to her escape every day since as long as she can remember. Small sign after small sign, guiding her to even bigger signs that kept getting her closer and closer to the way out. Of course, Scorponok always stopped her from getting too close.

A9-2416 always hated the amount of gruesome tests she had to do afterwards as punishment for misbehaving.

Until on her ninth birthday, A9-2416 finally made it to the exit, and Scorponok got exceptionally pissed off so much that in self-defense A9-2416 grabbed the nearest cannon she knew how to operate and blasted it through his spark. She cried a lot that day.

BUT HEY! Her life didn’t stay too depressing for long, because soon after she committed her very first act of murder, she became good buddies with the little voices in the walls that have been apparently guiding her throughout her life!

THE LOSTBOT BOTBOTS!!

(lol I’m nowhere near finished with every Lost Bot design, I just wanted to finish these couple few and make this post for the AU)

MEET THE LOST BOTS CLAN OF THE BOTBOTS!

They’ve been trapped on Scorponok’s Lab-planet-tory (im so funny) for decades along with the other Botbots who remained in hiding. But this clan was the only one brave enough to get anywhere near Scorponok’s main stomping grounds. What they didn’t expect to find was some weird sentient purple meat-potato in a makeshift industrial cradle. Turns out it was just a baby. And that baby turned out to be A9-2416. Who soon became known as Connie.

After A9-2416 escaped the inner dwellings of the lab and joined the Lost Bots on their little side quests up on the surface, she later changed her name to Constance, hence her more well-known nickname being Connie. The name change was suggested by her Botbot friends who knew a bit about Earth human culture and used their knowledge to help Connie have the most happy and carefree life that she could ask for.

Also the TEG Lost Light crew is there because I’m still obsessed with that fic 👍✨

@deepfriedhopesanddreams @viewer-of-many @celestite-caroline @asmoteeth @novafire-is-thinking @dragonsgirl572 @autistic-fool-with-ideas @mysticfoxdesigns @hyp3rfixation-h3ll

#this was honestly a cute side-project for me since I wanted a more angsty / wholesome take on the tf mpreg timeline #also I just liked the world building in TEG while tfp soundwave was there and I thought themes of this and that would fit well together #I also really liked the parallels of the lost bots being semi organic since their transformations were reversed and how their experiences #+ can be implemented into Connie’s newfound understanding of her mind body and soul / spark #and btw they can actually FUSE together like magical girls and precures #the idea that I had to inspire this was what if I combined precure logic into the lost light and that’s it #transformers #maccadam #maccadams #sphny alternates universe (𖦹ㅁ𖦹)•*°⊹#transformers more than meets the eye #transformers botbots #the echo garden #<-small mention #the firstborn #connie firstborn #lostbots #lore dump #infodump

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superbeans89 · 21 days ago

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So the ‘stories’ in PZ have gotten pretty grim, it seems.

Fuckin love it

#gaming #project zomboid #build 42 #the words on the wall say #‘I won’t become one of them’#also that world building

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cozycryptidcorner · 23 days ago

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Lullaby and Lambs Gender Norms Lore Dump

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theology101 · 2 months ago

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A Simple Financial Decision HFY - 1/3

Aboard the Command Ship Mother of Invention

>>> FTL JUMP SUCCESS

>>> BEGINNING SYSTEM SURVEY

>>> ERROR; INTERFERENCE

>>> ANALYZING INTERFERENCE

>>> CHEMICAL AND FISSION EMISSIONS DETECTED

>>> ERROR. PARAMETER ‘uninhabited’ NOT MET

Junior Commander Wa’l Hildnid was not having a good first night on duty. Despite serving on the bridge crew several times, tonight - or what passed for it in the carefully controlled light system meant to match their circadian rhythm - was the first night that Hildnid had command of the bridge. Which of course meant that the first (and hopefully only) unexpected problem came up on his shift. Although perhaps the Celestials were playing a joke on him - after all, the fierce and ruthless Foreman Wa’l Sonogth in charge of this operation, was his uncle.

After a firm rapt on the door and announcing his presence, the door was opened from the other side. Already - or perhaps still - awake, he was hunched over with one of his three eye stalks on a different display. “Report,” he said simply.

“Capt-“ He cringed, reminding himself he was no longer in the Navy, “Master Foreman, - one of our long range probes has encountered an error.”

The question hung for a moment - Sonogth turned one eye towards his nephew. “And?” he asked dryly.

“Oh! Apologies uncl- sir. The system-“

“Which system, Junior Captain?” Foreman Sonogth interrupted, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and foremen’s pin. “Our charter is to strip mine any system within a hundred square parsec region. So far, we have sent out four hundred drones and most have already reached their secondary target.”

“Of course, sir, sorry sir.”

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again - which system?”

Grimacing at failing to answer with his apology, Hildnid was pleased the correct screen was ready. “The star has been codenamed as ZN0-52081, sir, and the error was unexpected life form contact.” Songoth’s eyestalk returned to its central monitor at that.

“Two ice giants and gas giants, an asteroid belt, a habitable planet, and a deathworld, on top of a few dozen barren moons…” his uncle thought aloud, his voice sonorous as he dropped into a contemplative tone. “Too remote for pirates, too much work for colonizers, and not near anyone who could’ve taken it…”

The eyestalk came back up. “Were the life signature Bioforms?”

“No, no sir.” He knew that one, at the very least. There were several ways to tell if one of the Old One’s children was lurking, and none had been present. “What little evidence we have at the moment suggests the usage of traditional, albeit old, spacecraft. No psionic resonance or evidence of interstellar gas manipulation.”

The eyestalk bobbed a nod. “Good, at least we won’t need to deal with any damned Citay.” Wa’l Sonogth sighed, leaning back in his chair and finally turning all three of his eyes to his nephew. “They’re either smugglers or political dissidents illegally occupying our territory. If it’s smugglers, we can pay them off and give them one of our empty systems, if they’re rebellious colonists…”

Wa’l Hildnid swallowed so hard that it seemed to travel through his neck and into his shoulders and chest.

At that, his uncle laughed. “Don’t get squeamish on me, boy! Your mother told me about what a brave military man you are, don’t tell me you never killed before?” The black of his sclera seemed to grow even darker, “if it’s easier on your soul, I’ll make it an order. It’s a simple financial decision.”

“Yes, Master Foreman.”

“Good. Send the probe to its next target, and…” The left eye moved back towards its screen, “order ED-3 to move in. Clan Gis also were a gang of firebreathers…”

“If that will be all, sir?”

“That will be all”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

Captain Ghis Halnfur was looking forward to an extremely profitable day.

In charge of “ED-3” - Excavation and Demolitions Team 3 - and the seven ships that made up that command. Two of them were traditional deep space mining ships, barely a hundred meters long, three more were of the wide bowed transport ships that would carry full loads for processing, two hundred and twenty meters long and capable of safely transporting its precious cargo without additional protection. And of course, his flagship, half again the size of the transports and the most heavily armed, was to act as the command and operations hub for the mining operation, as well as transporting any workers or engineers to ground-based projects - in this case, a legion of Galfrei-class combat units and a platoon of enhanced mining equipment retrofitted into combat-ready suits. And of course, the final ship, and Halnfur’s personal addition to ED-3 - the screening ship.

Taken from his days in the Navy, the idea of point defense protection against fightercrafts and gunships would also work when it came to asteroid mining. Halnfur himself captained the first one deployed, and saw to his immense delight that it could cut through those asteroid fields like air… it simply made it harder to collect them afterward - so instead his poor Lii’lya had been reduced to operations like this, where collateral damage was expected.

Blinking out the white that always came from leaving faster than light, he kept his eyes on the stellar horizon while his communications officer began a survey. “Near distance, clear. Middle distance, clear. Far distance… occupied.”

“Occupied?” Ghis Halnfur’s second in command, Ak’no Jel, asked as he moved to take a better look at the display.

“Yes ma’am,” comms responded. “By… a battle, it looks like,” she paused, another bright flash of light from the viewport, this time significantly smaller and at range. “Yes, it’s a battle, ma’am. The fission signature we just picked up was equivalent to one of our class-4 explosives.”

“Who’s fighting?” Halnfur felt obligated to ask, if no one else would.

“It’s hard to tell from this range, sir, but I’m seeing two distinct ship design styles, maybe three.”

“Are you ready to go in, Captain?” Jel asked, back behind his command chair.

He surveyed the scene for a moment longer, tapping his chin dramatically. “Yes… I believe we shall. Navigations, plot me a skip-jump, pull back a hundred fifty kilometers from the plotted edge of the battle. I want them to know we’re there, but don’t fire yet.” He’d never believed Sonogth’s predictions - and he knew who was behind this whole damn thing - the Citayans. If he could get proof, solid evidentiary proof, that they had not only moved into the Celestia Republica Castelleum, and that they fired first, it would be the airtight justification they needed to finally wipe the Citayans off the galactic map, then their unevolved Citay vermin, and then all the other Bioforms. At least the Citayans didn’t use bloody animals for space-craft.

The flash was proportionally weaker this time - but the battle was not what he expected.

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

Aleksandrya Sokolov-Meyer of the United Nations of Terra and Venus Navy, and captain of the Zeus-class Antioch, was having a terrible day. “Status!” she barked, leaning over the massive command table and wincing at each new red mark on her ships. And they weren’t even supposed to be her ships! “I need those torpedo tubes unjammed!” she yelled to no one in particular.

“Torpedos still down, ma’am, repairs underway!”

“Rio’s Pride is requesting additional firing support!”

“Acknowledged, patch me over to the captain.” It wasn’t looking good for Rio’s Pride. The only destroyer she still had on her left flank, Rio was built for capital ship combat, and the swarm of Jovian Stinger and Biter drones that had just polished off her support ship. “Captain Holt,” Meyer said when she saw a flicker in her periphery.

“Damn, Meyer, its a bloody mess that Gilly left us, isn’t it?” Despite herself, she let out a low chuckle, glancing up through the loose strands of red hair to look at her friend’s face on the screen. He wasn’t looking good, behind him the devastation of his ship was obvious, lights flickering and a disturbingly loud shudder. She was tempted to pretend that this was a simulation again, that this wasn’t real and she had enough time for a clever comeback.

But it was real this time. And with the death of Commodore Gilroy Faux and High Captain Tsoss, Aleksandrya was in command.

And she was about to kill a friend.

��Holt, we can’t send anyone to rescue you,” she said solemnly, turning back to her display and drawing her intentions. “If you yaw fifty degrees starboard and a few clicks further out-“

“I can hit the damn nest.”

“We’ll cover you for as long as we can.”

“Yes ma’am, over and out.” And just like that, exposing itself to more fire and making the battered destroyer even more of a target, Rio’s Pride followed orders. The swarm of drones saw that and gave chase, their hive programming convincing their fellows of better prey than the main battle group. No doubt some kid would notice and correct the mistake eventually, but it wouldn’t be immediate and every second counted.

“Comms Officer Henri, order picket group one to chase those fuckers, then patch me into the rest of the fleet.” The situation had already changed radically from the last time she checked - the enemy formation, surrounding them in a rough U, had begun to collapse inward on the port side as they moved in for the kill, while the automated Jovian ships - primarily their smaller ships though there were two cruisers in there. The Caliphate of Mars was stubbornly holding the rear line as a firing position, uncharacteristically cautious - especially compared to the Jovian Brillenschlangen, of all people - and the ship they were chasing, the only damn reason they were here, the Samel-Class Man of War Big Tex which should’ve been on death’s door, had yet to make an appearance. The only benefit to the situation was that another Jovian carrier had gotten speared through by a CAT-7 coilgun.

Again, the flicker in her periphery, again she began to speak. “Tighten up, those drones are going brainless in a few minutes and I don’t want any of them flying blind in between my ships, you hear? Good - keep your CAT-1s well-oiled, I want you all to coordinate on deflecting incoming projectiles” She glanced up, looking at the faces on her screen. Only thirty-three of the seventy-four ships that came out to Jupiter were still active, and soon it would be thirty-two. “Let’s see Rio be proud one last time and on my mark, I want complete offensive saturation on these targets,” Meyer selected them on her display for them.

Holt’s face popped up, his ship even more damaged with only the emergency lights active and a nasty gash on the side of Holt’s face. Meyer wondered how he got it - she figured that she’d never know. “On your orders, Admiral.”

Despite herself, she smirked. If she could manage to salvage this… but now was not the time to think of her career. Not when she was staring at the one who would give it to her. “Give ‘em hell.” And with a triumphant final firing of its massive primary canon, Rio’s Pride unleashed a two-hundred-ton rod of tungsten-depleted uranium alloy shell at a low, but not insignificant, percentage of the speed of light. The Nest - the hangar and control point for all the drones in the ether - was there one moment. The next, there was a blinding streak of white-yellow fire cutting straight through the thing, and then it began a cascade of errors as things meant to be held securely were suddenly and violently released.

Even knowing it was coming, she braced herself for the violent jerk of the main cannon. “Fire!” a second streak of light emerged, then another and another as dozens of missiles and high-category coil guns were launched at once - not targetting the battleships closest to them, but the undamaged secondary line. Expecting the luxury of a near-endless supply of drones the Jovians had programmed to make suicide rushes to intercept traditional and nuclear ordinance, the Martians were caught off guard by this sudden weakness in their defenses. Already, Aleksandrya could see their CAT-1s and teslogats ready for dealing with this, but not all at once and not nearly fast enough. And every second mattered.

And then, emerging off her starboard side, was a fleet of seven, massive ships. She had a moment of absolute shock and surprise. What? How did they move like that? But that quickly faded when the lead ship, a massive thing as long as her Zeus but much, much larger and heavier, rammed directly into Rio’s Pride.

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

“Blasted!” Captain Ghis Halnfur shouted, standing to his full two-meter height, his eyestalks pulled in tight to the skull. “Jel, I want to know what the hell is going on, Comms, tell the flotilla to open fire.”

“Captain-“

“They set a trap for us, Jel. I don’t know how, but they knew we were there...”

“Captain…”

“A damn trap, and Sonogth sent us-“

“Captain!” Jel said it forcefully enough that others stared - only for a moment before they risked one of her eyestalks finding them. “None of those ships exist in our records.”

“What?”

“They’re unknown configuration,” Jel repeated.

“I know what unknown configuration means, commander, what I meant was-“ One of the five ships closest, and turned directly to face Halnfur’s force, exploded as a few shots lanced from one of his transports. And at that, he grinned. “Ah, nevermind. We seem more familiar with their configuration now. No shields? How did they even make it through FTL?”

The Captain and Commander watched the battle for a moment, before Halnfur finally sat down in his chair, watching as the ships - and there were indeed three distinct designs, began to create a new line of battle. Clearly, whatever battle they had been fighting seemed to be forgotten against a superior enemy. A feral smile colored his face before Jel said something that made his heart stop.

“What if this is their home system and we made first contact?”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

“I don’t care what you say, but that arschloch on this line, now!” Aleksandrya looked up just in time to see another CAT-9 shot get mostly disintegrated before whatever melted slag could be reformed in the coldness of space. “Come on you martian bastard, come on…”

“I assure you, ma’am, that Jamil MacCready is not here!” High General Sakira Morrison of the Jovian Coalition said. At least the fotze had picked up, which was more than could be said for that Martian Coward. “But the Martian troops have been placed under my temporary command while they recieve humanitarian repairs, as-"

“Humanitarian? He’s a murderer!”

“As we were given the right to by treaty. It was your forces under Commodore Faux that an illegal-“

“Halst den Mund! - Euphrates, Flaming Sword,” the two captains flickered on screen and this time, she did look at them. One clearly favored more of the Arab side of the “TexArab” people of Mars, while the other was more ambiguous - both were men, and oh what she wouldn’t give to hear them complain about being subordinate to two women. “One of those energy balls is coming at you both, nadir-starboard. I want to see how big of a coil shot it takes to defuse. General Morrison, are your crews in formation ready for a massed volley?”

“The battleships, yes, but it’ll take the drones-“

“Comms, patch me into all ships,” Aleksandrya said with certainty she didn’t have. Removing her officer’s cap to fix her hair, she instead tossed the damn thing away, pulled out her pins, and shook out her hair. If she was gonna die fighting an unknown evil from beyond God knows what, she wasn’t going to do it by regulation. “This is acting Admiral Aleksandrya Solokov-Meyer of the Antioch - on my first mark, coordinate Coil fire onto this target,” she tapped it on her display, “Upon my second mark, fire traditional ordinance - third fire nuclear. Ready… mark.”

There was the familiar lunge backward as the gun fired, joined in a loose arrowhead formation with the broken hulk of the Nest acting as their anchoring point. While not all ships could fire given the angle, the effect was all that she could’ve hoped for. As the first rounds made contact, they began to superheat, melt, and vaporize as before… but then the second, third, and fourth were all landing in the same spot too. And then, that etheric blue bubble that surrounded those ships began to bend inwards with a burning red fury… until it couldn’t bend anymore. The rounds hadn’t even all made their target before she called “Mark!”

This motion was more subdued, as the still working torpedo bays launched too - straight into the hole they had just created in the shield, and not just the shield - somehow in that stream of light, they’d cracked the hull. Meyer imagined that the follow up missiles didn’t do much for the ship’s internals either, and this wouldn’t be much better. “Mark!” The barrier was already starting to close up, the cruiser was still opening fire… and then the nuclear missiles got inside the ship. Several dozen missiles exploded on the exterior of the shield in massive shows of light, but the dozen or two that made it underneath the shields before detonating?

For a brief moment, Jupiter had its own sun. And then the shield burst like an overfilled balloon.

“I want confirmation the second your guns are ready for another volley, we’re hitting him next.” She looked back at her display of Captains… having more faces with proportionally even more empty spots didn’t thrill her, but she knew the bastards could die. And that was good enough. “High General, I want an update on those drones, and for the love of God, someone get Jamil MacCready - or at least his ship!”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

His flotilla was sent to pacify the whole system, Ghis Halfnur thought ruefully as he watched his last transport ship get destroyed. It was just him and the Screener left. “Jel?”

The woman had been trying to help coordinate fire with the weapon’s commander but came at his command. “Captain?”

“We never managed to do our full recon,” he said moreosely. It was his own fault, his own overconfidence. Removing his captain’s lapel from his uniform, he handed it to Jel. “Take one of our shuttles, take as much non essential personnel as possible, and then complete a survey of this system before reporting to your commanding officer.”

“Sir- that’s-“

“Foreman Wa’l Sonogth will want to know about this. And if you’re right about this being their native system…” Halfnur shook his head. They were doomed. No way about it now. Even if he could still win this fight - and given the numbers against him, he didn’t like those odds - as the commander on the scene who had belligerently initiated contact with a pre-uplift species, his life was forfeit. The Celestial Tribunal would ring him dry, probably most of his crew and commanding officer. “In your logs, write how you argued against my course of action, and wanted to file a report to the Castelleum and I countermanded you. Now go!”

Always a good sailor, Ak’no Jel did as she was told. He had confirmation that she and the evacuees made it on the ship, and waited another five minutes to make sure they were gone before he gave what would be his last, most bitter order. “We’re going in.”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

The battlecruiser and spindly ships were the only two left - and for a moment, Aleksandrya had thought she had won. Or at the very least, was winning. For that act of pride, God decided that the placid, so far only supporting ships with its long-range fire. That seemed to be over now, now it was going to be a broadside.

“Admira Meyer, the drones are online,” a both familiar and unfamiliar voice said over comms, the signal shakey and broken.

“I want them running picket, sofort! If any fucking plasma gets through, it’s your ass!” Meyer was already turning to the weapons board, seeing that it was only at 90% charge… and the battlecruiser was getting closer with only missiles harmlessly bouncing off to show for it. But her secondary weapons… “Lower caliber until your main gun is fully charged, he’s not getting an inch without steel,” she ended that call, already having Comms initiating her second, “Admiral Meyer, do you read me Virgo I?”

“Loud and clear ma’am,” the voice sounded winded on the other side, the tight confines of a cockpit not allowing a view. “What can me and my jockeys do for you today?”

“That smaller ship, I want you to poke at it. Bring two squadrons with you…” she paused, thinking. With only teslogats and missiles, the hundreds of fighters wouldn’t do anything to the big ship. Short of just ramming it, she couldn’t see what the rest of the fighters would be doing. “Take as many as want to come.”

“Yes ma’am - think your Comms get can get me over to their jockeys?”

“She’s already on it - Henriette is very skilled.”

“Why thank you, Commander Henriette, over and out!”

Meyer looked back at the display of the field - already she was down two of her bigger ships (a part of her wanted to add ‘thankfully, Martians’ but she restrained herself) and a dozen smaller ones. And her firing predictions still had it a click out from its maximum range. If those drones didn’t show up -

“Fighters pull back! Repeat, pull back!” It was a laser show over there. While having never taken a shot at any other vessels so far, it became abundantly clear why - it didn't have the range. The powerful plasma jets burned through any fighter unfortunate enough to get too close. “General, where are my drones? Fuck it, drones, this is your new primary target. Are all cannons ready? Good, on my mark - mark!”

Only this time, this time the brilliant display of light didn’t end with a hole. When the light cleared, it was the imposing blue of the shield bursting out through the debris cloud with only a few minor red spots, its impish friend chasing after her fighters untouched. “Prepare a second volley! Reroute power, shut down gravity for all I care, just get those damn guns ready or we’re all dead!”

“Don’t be so certain of it, Admiral,” the same voice from before, only far, far clearer now. And without the static and fuzz… she knew that voice. Thousands of drone ships came rushing by the viewport, creating a cloud of grey and blinking lights that covered the horizon before passing. “I apologize for arriving late but, my father always did teach me ladies first.”

“MacCready,” she snarled under her breath.

“Ah, so you remember me? As you can tell, my ship doesn’t remember either of ours from our most recent or first dance.”

“Ma’am, a new signature just appeared as… leaving Jupiter’s upper atmosphere,” Henriette said hesitantly. “Samael-Class, and moving quickly. Designation-“

“Big Tex.”

“If you hadn’t done such a wonderful job damaging her, I might’ve been able to help from the beginning,” the man’s cocky voice echoed in the bridge speakers, Meyer’s face turning as red as her hair as his ship quickly advanced towards the enemy. She was going to kill that man. For his crimes, for the Moscow and her old crew, and for stealing her fucking victory! Already, she was watching as the drones broke against the enemy ship like the sea, dozens dying but always being just a few too many to get them all. And the shield was turning red. “Ganymede Spaceworks also added something new, I was hoping to surprise you at our next dance but… well, a Prince must make sacrifices for the good of the people, even if it scorns his lady love.”

All it took was a glance, and Henriette had cut off his comm. “Fucking prick,” she added for good measure.

Drifting into formation above the battered and broken Hive was a Samael-Class Man Of War. Over a kilometer long and with more than enough firepower to match three Zeus classes, the massive primary gun was its primary characteristic… only now it was even more massive, with two isosceles triangles coming from what should’ve been the barrel. And then, in a single shot, a massive round moved in an instant - she barely had time to see it before it had punched straight through the shield, the ship, and then out the other side of the shield.

Not wanting him to get the last laugh, “Main gun on the spindly.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A rod of Tungsten later and Aleksandrya was mollified enough to call her query. The man she and all of Task Force Chancellor had been sent to capture in the first fucking place. “Jamil MacCready.”

“It’s customary to use my title when greeting me.”

“What was that?”

“Ah, you like my new tachyon-enhanced coilgun? It’s brand new! Honestly worked better then I could’ve-“ Aleksandrya ended the call herself.

“Helm, take us to Venus Blue Dock. We’re going home.” To fix my ship, reconstitute my numbers, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do next.

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