My Own Private Universe

Sonya Newman, Part One

2011-09-07T12:46:00.002-05:00

Introduction

I've been fiddling about with writing a novel. One of the things I did in this process was to experiment with writing a character thread.

So here's three short scenes with Sonya Newman, a fictional reporter for Fox News:

I was once ambushed by a reporter in New Hampshire.

The video of the interview is still in the public record, but here’s how I saw it.

Governor John Andrew March of Minnesota had entered the New Hampshire primary election for the Republican nomination for the office of President. Susan, the rest of the campaign team, and myself were here to do the grunt work of political campaigning.

If you want to know what that involved, go find a copy in the archives of Take Back Your Government by Robert Anson Heinlein. At that time the originally printed copies of this manual on political campaigning being purchased by members of the Tea Party Movement for about fifty dollars each on the used book market. And no, I did not sell my copy to anyone at the time.

Apart from substituting laptop computers and ink jet printers for typewriters and mimeographs we basically followed the instructions within.

So I’m standing offstage while John is giving a speech at a local American Legion post when four people walked up to me.

The first was Sonya Newman of Fox News. In terms of appearance she came up to my eye level in high heels and had brown hair with a tendency to frizz. With her was a cameraman and a sound man, along with another young man bearing a laptop case and a clipboard, all of whom I would presume were also with Fox News.

“Miss Newman,” I said, “aren’t you supposed to be sitting behind a desk somewhere?”

“Mister Keller,” Newman responded, “I was wondering if we could ask you some questions?”

“You already are.” I said.

I could clearly see that the red light indicating that the camera was running was on. And my initial reply apparently didn’t stop Miss Newman.

“Multiple questions, sir.” She said.

“I don’t know why.” I said. “I’m really not at all comfortable doing a live interview. And by the way, I practiced that answer! And also I’m not the one running for president.”

That still didn’t stop Miss Newman.

“But you are expected to have a major role in a March Administration, sir.” She said with complete journalistic seriousness.

“Doing what?” I said. “Certainly not a cabinet post?” There’s no shortage of people who are qualified for those.”

At this point I was beginning to suspect that nothing short of the deliberate use of deadly force was going to stop Miss Newman.

“It is expected that you would serve as the White House Chief of Staff in a March Administration.” She said with continuing seriousness.

“Sonya,” I replied with a slight note of annoyance, “seeing to it that the I’s are properly dotted and the T’s are properly crossed isn’t really that big of a deal.”

And then Miss Newman said something with a slight journalistic smile.

“There are some people who say that you have undue influence on Governor March.”

“Name one.” I said.

“His sister Anne.” Miss Newman Replied.

Unlike John, his older sister Anne Elizabeth March had attended the University of Minnesota and had been successfully indoctrinated into becoming a lesbian and a Marxist agitator. The local television stations and the daily socialist rag of the Twin Cities, the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, would feature her in video or still photograph at the front of every leftist demonstration against the actions and policies of John March as the governor of the state of Minnesota.

And there was one other serious fault of character on her part.

“Sonya, are you aware of the fact that Anne March is a Truther?” I said.

“No.” She replied.

Truthers were a generally Leftist and completely insane cult that would blame any negative event, such as a terrorist attack, on a sitting Conservative administration, or any other ideological opponents in general, without any regard for the facts. To give an example, even though we were clearly and completely innocent of the act, the Cult of the Truthers were openly blaming John, Susan, and myself for the death of President Elect Sandra Chapman after the Final Election.

“Well you know,” I said, “Truthers will believe anything, except the truth.”

Sonya Newman knew dammed well that I was right. There was no way that She could use Anne March as an authority on this particular matter. I decided to go in for the kill.

“Seriously Sonya,” I said, “Governor John Andrew March is a well off and well educated gentleman, and he has a doctorate from one of those old and famous English universities, and they don’t give those things away in a box of Cracker Jacks you know.”

Newman had to nod on camera at that point.

“Now I’m just a working class slob from Nordeast Minneapolis,” I said, “and I just barely managed to finish high school.”

“Now really...” Said Miss Newman.

I interrupted her.

“Sonya,” I said, “I had to go to summer school to get the ONE credit I needed to meet the graduation requirement.”

“So you missed graduating with your class?” Said Miss Newman.

“The counselor for that class, a woman named Pomeroy, told me that I could take part in the ceremony and get a empty diploma holder.” I said. “But I decided not to do it.”

I think Miss Newman was a bit shocked to hear that.

“Why not?” She asked.

“Sonya, the choice was really simple.” I said. “I could either rent a silly costume, with money that I scarcely had, and stand outside on a hot summer day -- we had them in June in Minneapolis back then -- and listen to a member of the local socialist nomenklatura drone on and on and on about how wonderful it was to be a good socialist drone in the radiant socialist future, all in order to pretend to receive an certificate that I didn’t earn! Or, I could do menial labor for two hours at the minimum wage in air conditioned comfort.”

Miss Newman just stared at me.

“As I said,” I said, “it was an easy choice.”

The ladies at the candy shop that I worked at after school found it difficult to believe that I would make that choice.

Sonya Newman looked like I had just told her that the Virgin Mary was not really a virgin. I strongly suspect what she said next was actually spontaneous.

“You’re not running for president?” She said.

I tried to answer in the campaign mode.

“I would accept the nomination,” I said, “but John Andrew March is far better qualified than I ever will be for the office of President of the United States.”

Before Newman could say anything else I added another comment.

“And John’s family always wanted him to run for President,” I said, “they’re just really, really, really upset that he’s running as a Republican. Minnesota limousine liberals are funny that way.”

Actually they wanted their oldest son, Richard Charles March the Third, to eventually stand for that office. His premature death by a heroin overdose put a stop to that dream.

Miss Newman had recovered at this point and was back in the reporter mode.

“There are some questions about how you and Governor March became good friends for over three decades.” She said.

I immediately jumped to the conclusion that Sonya Newman was referring to the rumors of a long homosexual relationship that were running rampant in the otherwise empty heads of the Leftist Commentariat. Never mind the nice young English lady that John married in a nice English ceremony in a nice English church while he was working on his doctorate in history in England. And, of course, pay absolutely no attention to the three nice children that John and his nice English wife were raising with the assistance of their nice English governess.

But it would only take a single pinprick of truth to pop the giant bubble of falsehood.

“Sonya,” I said, “John and I met through our common hobby of war gaming.”

I was not about to mention Traveller, Dungeons and Dragons, or any other role playing game at that point.

“Seriously,” I said, “John had a small storeroom in the basement of the family home set aside for running Blitzkrieg by the Avalon Hill game company, and that was a really long and hard game to play.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that last part.

Apparently Miss Newman had not caught it or she decided not to run with it.

“So you’re saying that was it was a difficult game to play?”

“It took days to run a full game.” I replied. “And that was long before the first generation of personal computers hit the market.”

Another thing I wasn’t going to mention at that time was that John had to put a padlock on that room and restart a game after his older brother had made a mess in the room while shooting up a dose of heroin.

It was time to drop the rhetorical hammer on Newman.

“Sonya,” I said, “when an old friend offers you a job that you can do at significantly better salary than you’re already earning, you accept it. To refuse to do so is simply insane.”

“And let’s face it,” I added, “it really looks good on the resume.”

Then Newman got to her actual point.

“So what would you do if Governor Chapman receives the Republican nomination?” She said.

It was obvious that Newman was favoring Chapman at the time. During the taping of a previous interview with her Chapman had to tell Newman to stop “soft balling” her. Even though her comment was edited out of the broadcast version of the interview it somehow leaked out to a video file website. The self-styled comedians within the Leftist Commentariat were overdoing their response, with lesbian overtones, to this particular gaffe, as usual.

Since the rhetorical hammer I dropped on Newman didn’t work it was now time to drop the rhetorical sixteen-ton weight on her.

“Miss Newman,” I said, “if Governor Sandra Chapman of Alaska were to receive the Republican nomination for the office of President of the United States I would give her my full support and make every effort to see that she is elected.”

The Fox News camera did not catch the blank look that appeared on Newman’s face.

Time for the killer blow.

“And if Governor Chapman were elected I would graciously accept any position that she offered, or I would firmly recommend someone for the position who I believe is more qualified.”

I’m really sure that Miss Newman really didn’t expect that answer.

It was at this time that John had finished his speech and was shaking hands with supporters as he departed from the stage.

It was time to ditch Miss Newman.

“John!” I shouted to him. “I’ve got Sonya Newman from Fox News over here! Want to talk to her?”

John was too well practiced an actor to visibly show any sign that he really didn’t want to speak to her.

“Sure.” He said with a smile as he walked up to us.

“Seriously Sonya,” I said, “the idea that I’m the evil genius pulling the strings is simply ridiculous.”

I turned to walk away, after John took over the contact with the Fox News field team, and I saw Susan standing there.

I never noticed her listening to the conversation with Newman.

I walked up to her and gave her a really good kiss.

Any Truther watching this would, of course, openly declare that I was faking it and that I was really thinking of doing something sexual with John.

When we unlocked lips Susan asked me a question.

“You would really do that?” She said.

“Do what?” I said.

“Work for Chapman?” She said.

“Only if we had to go to Plan B.” I said.

Plan B was for John to accept the second spot on the national ballot, presumably with Governor Chapman on top.

And yes, we already got the inherent jokes from that concept out of our respective systems.

“Okay then.” She said. “So what class did you take?”

“Class?” I said.

“In summer school,” she said, “to get your diploma?”

“English.” I said. “I think I did a book report on The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, for something like the seventh time.”

I could swear that there was a deep metaphysical element to the groan that Susan gave out when I answered that question.

Sonya Newman, Part Two

2011-09-07T12:36:00.002-05:00

[ABOUT THREE MONTHS LATER]

Susan and I had been driving to work together at this point. It had been my turn to drive, Which left Susan free to be shocked and angry when we drove up to the house she shared with two other young women.

On the street in front of the house the Minneapolis Fire Department had put the fire that had been set on her Ford Escort. From the pattern of damage on the car I immediately guessed that the fire had been set with an old school Molotov cocktail.

The Minneapolis Police were already present and an uniformed officer had been posted at the open front door of Susan’s house. When Susan I walked up I got a good look at the door. It did not look like it had been forced open.

“I’m sorry,” said the officer at the door, “this is a crime scene.”

It was time to let this fellow know who the boss was.

“Officer,” I said, “I’m Al Keller, the Governor’s Chief of Staff.”

I then pointed to Susan with my right thumb and spoke again.

“And this is Susan Mercer, she’s the press secretary for Governor March’s presidential campaign.”

I then used the right thumb to point over my back at the burned up hulk of the car on the street.

“She is the owner of that car that’s about to towed away as evidence.” I continued. “I believe that she will need to speak to the detectives investigating this incident.”

The unpleasant fact of reality at the time was that the political administration of the city of Minneapolis had been solidly under the control of the local branch of the other party for over three decades.

Yes, the Democratic Farmer Labor Party of Minnesota is every bit as bad as it sounds.

John, in his capacity as governor, had found it necessary to tell the current mayor of Minneapolis that if municipal administration’s slack attitude toward acts of violence against Republicans in his city continued that he would send in a military police unit from the Minnesota National Guard to deal with the problem. It was now obvious that this incident could very well trigger that response.

And every cop in Minneapolis was fully well aware of this.

The cop at the front door nodded.

“Of course, sir.” He said. “If you would follow me ma’am.”

As the cop lead Susan into her own home I saw two more vehicles drive up to the crime scene. They were an uplink van and a minivan belonging to KMSP-TV, the local Fox Network affiliate.

In the minivan was one of the local reporters and Sonya Newman. Sonya had been assigned by Fox News to John’s campaign for president. Off the air everyone working on the campaign called her Sunny.

“Susan,” I said, “go in and talk to the cops, I’ll talk to Sunny and Tom.”

Susan nodded and went into the house with the front door cop. I turned to walk over to the reporters.

“Hi Sunny, hello Tom.” I said.

“Hi Al,” said Sunny. Tom just nodded.

“Tom,” I said, “Susan’s inside with the cops, why don’t you go in and talk to them.”

“Alright.” Said Tom sullenly. And he went inside the house.

“Al,” said Sunny, “what’s with you and Tom, apart from you being straight?”

“I recommended a book to him.” I said.

“Atlas Shrugged or Starship Troopers?” She said.

“The Pink Swastika,” I replied, “it’s about homosexual culture in the Weimar Republic and the subsequent Reich.”

“I know Ernst Rohm was gay.” She said.

“It goes further than that.” I said. “Apparently there was a big split back in the Weimar days with two completely antithetical groups in Germany, one group ultimately got sent to the camps, and the other group basically joined a certain party and ended up running the camps.”

Sunny frowned.

“Okay.” She said. “I can see why Tom would be upset to read that.”

Sunny then looked and pointed at the charred wreck of Susan’s car.

“So why did this happen?” She asked.

I saw that the rear bumper of the car, with it’s two bumper stickers, was still intact. I walked over and pointed to it.

“Well,” I said, “Susan has made no secret of the fact that she had worked on the election campaign of Little Larry Null.”

I then pointed to the stickers on the bumper. The first was a NULL sticker from the previous presidential election. The second was a MARCH sticker from the current campaign.

“In fact John brought her in the campaign the moment that she mentioned that fact.” I said.

Then I had a thought.

“Can we do this again with the camera running?”

“Yes.” Said Sunny.

She looked back at the cameraman, who then nodded in apparent agreement.

We started over again when Sonya Newman, the intrepid reporter for the Fox News Channel, asked me why this incident happened.

I repeated what I had said before and then continued on.

“Miss Mercer decided that the election of Laurence Null was a mistake and she wanted everyone on the road to know it, someone on the other side clearly has a problem with this.”

When camera switched off Sunny asked me another question.

“So what do you really think about this.” She said.

“I can’t really say.” I replied. “I want John to win this one.”

That wasn’t going to stop Sunny.

“If I say anything, it will be that its from an anonymous campaign official.” She said.

I stepped up and whispered in her ear.

“It involves duct tape, a set of headphones, and an old Yoko Ono record, one from the late Sixties on the Apple Records label.”

Sunny stepped back a bit.

“You know,” she said, “there is such a thing as water boarding.”

It was at the moment that Tom stepped out from the house and walked over to us. He walked up to me and spoke.

“Al,” he said, “you better go inside and talk to Susan.”

That was the longest sentence Tom had spoken to me off camera in almost a year.

I walked into the house and went straight to Susan’s room. It was very readily apparent that there was no damage to the door of the house or to anything not belonging to Susan.

When I entered Susan’s room I saw that practically everything was damaged in some way.

Including her pink teddy bear.

I had to jump to the conclusion that one or both the roommates were involved in this act of vandalism. But that was something for the Minneapolis Police to sort out.

If the Mayor and his crew didn’t get in the way.

Susan was sitting on the bed holding her teddy bear in her hands. I sat down next to her.

“Grandma gave her to me.” Susan said.

I took a closer look at the bear and saw a small white tag with three letters in the Cyrillic alphabet.

“Russian?” I asked.

Susan replied.

“Grandma bought her in Leningrad during one of those silly fraternal socialist tours of the old Soviet Union.”

I nodded.

I then had an idea.

“My mom has a sewing machine.” I said. “She could stitch her back together.”

Susan looked at me and nodded.

“And it’s time for you to meet her anyway.” I also said.

“Okay.” She replied.

Sonya Newman, Part Three

2011-09-07T12:32:00.001-05:00

[THE FIRST DAY OF THE FINAL WAR]

I remember the day the Final War began.

John had set up the headquarters of his administration in Omaha. We had hoped that this would be a temporary arrangement until former President Null could be persuaded to properly step down in Washington or was otherwise dealt with.

The actual office used by John, and myself as his chief of staff, were within the perimeter of Offutt Air Force Base. John and I actually shared a small office space in the Strategic Command’s underground bunker.

I had come into work early that morning and was in my little cubicle in the temporary presidential office catching up on the inevitable paperwork when an alarm sounded.

I ran down the hall, flashed my photo I.D. card to the Air Force sentry guarding the door, and entered the primary control center.

There was a flurry of activity in the control center as the primary display board, which dominated an entire wall of the room, showed some kind of activity in the Eastern Atlantic Ocean just off of Spain.

I caught my breath from my short run and stepped up to the watch officer, an Air Force Brigadier General, his name tag said “Curtis”, who was on watch in the underground command post.

“General,” I said, “what the Hell is going on?”

Brigadier General Curtis looked at me as if I was a Martian who just appeared in the command post by an act of teleportation. He then apparently remembered that I was actually supposed to be here and answered my question.

“Sir,” he said, “NORAD has reported the launch of three ballistic missiles from a submarine in the Atlantic off of Spain.”

NORAD was a combined American and Canadian military organization whose primary mission was to detect air and space borne attacks against our two respective nations and our allies. Their primary assets were a group of powerful radar stations and a constellation of satellites for detecting and tracking missile launches anywhere on the planet.

I asked the general a question.

“Any idea who launched them and where they’re going?”

“Not at this time, sir.” Curtis replied. “We still have the open line to NORAD, sir.”

I pointed to the nearest phone with a line button blinking.

“Line one, sir.” Said General Curtis.

I picked up the phone and punched the blinking line button.

“Hello.” I said. “This is Al Keller, Chief of Staff for President March, may I speak to the watch officer, please?”

“Yes sir!” Said the voice on the other end of the line.

The next voice on the line sounded French Canadian.

“This is Brigadier General Lambert.” He said.

“General,” I said, “any idea who launched those missiles and where they’re going?”

“We have no idea who launched them, yet.” He said. “As far as we can tell the target is the State of Israel.”

That’s insane. I thought.

No. I had not really thought that, I had emotionally felt it.

“General Lambert,” I said, “would you please notify the Israelis?”

“Mister Keller,” he said, “that would require a presidential order.”

Bullshit. I thought.

“Moot point, General.” I replied. “My next phone call will be to the Prime Minister of Israel.”

“Mister Keller,” he said, “you do not have the authority to do that.”

I looked over to General Curtis. He had been listening to the conversation with Lambert. He covered the lower part of the phone receiver with the palm of his right hand, turned to a staff officer, and spoke.

“Call the Israelis,” he said, “let them know what’s coming their way.”

“And while we’re at it,” I jumped in, “call the Navy and let them know where that missile boat is, I’m sure the president will want it forced to the surface or sent to the bottom.”

A Navy Commander, apparently representing our own ballistic missile submarine force in the command center, spoke up.

“I’m on it, sir!” He shouted.

General Curtis commented in a voice barely above the level of a whisper.

“I’ll settle for sunk.” He said.

“Yes.” I said in agreement.

General Curtis then barked out an order to another staff officer.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “call the NRO and see what they have on this attack.”

An Air Force Sergeant turned around at her station and spoke to me.

“Sir,” she said, “I have the Prime Minister’s office on line two.”

I didn’t bother to say anything to Canadian Brigadier General Lambert at NORAD as I switched over to the second line on my phone. The Prime Minister was actually on the line.

“Sir,” I said, “this is Al Keller in Omaha.”

“Al,” he said, “why are you calling? Where is President March?”

I had met the current Prime Minister when John had visited Israel during the primary campaign in order to obtain the equivalent of “street cred” in the area of foreign affairs.

“The president is boarding the airborne command post.” I replied.

Or John should be if we’re following the operational procedure that we rehearsed.

“Benny,” I said, “it is my duty to inform you that three ballistic missiles have been launched from a submarine toward the State of Israel.”

“Do you know who is responsible for this attack?” He replied.

“Not at this time, sir.” I said.

I then saw the Lieutenant who called the NRO coming up to me with a sheet of paper.

“Just a moment.” I said to the Prime Minister.

The Lieutenant gave me the sheet of paper with a note written on it.

It said:

NRO SAYS 3 FRENCH M51 WITH 18-30 110KT RV

I spoke again to the Prime Minister.

“Sir, the National Reconnaissance Office says that they’re French M-five-one missiles with a total of eighteen to thirty warheads of a hundred and ten kilotons yield each.”

I could hear the Israeli air raid warning sirens start up over the phone line.

“Benny,” I said, “if I wasn’t a goddamned atheist I would say a prayer for Israel.”

“I think you just did.” He replied.

I had to say something else.

“Benny, we’ll do everything we can for the survivors.” I said. “They’ll have a place here with us, you have my word on that.”

“Of course you will.” Said the Prime Minister.

I could hear someone speaking to the Prime Minister in the background over the phone line.

“I have to go.” He said. “May God be with you.”

The line went dead.

I was silent. I had to mentally pause for a moment.

“That was definitely a prayer.” Said Curtis. “You definitely expressed a desire for divine intervention, without the usual fluffery.”

I turned my head to look at Curtis.

“My Pop was very disappointed that I didn’t follow him into the ministry.” He said.

“What denomination?” I asked.

“Methodist.” He said.

“Okay.” I replied.

One of the sergeants in the control center stood up at his work station.

“General!” He shouted. “Fox News has someone reporting live from Jerusalem!”

“Put it on the big screen!” General Curtis commanded.

The image from Fox News appeared on the main screen to the right of the map showing the track of the three French missiles in flight.

It was midnight and Sonya Newman was reporting live from Jerusalem.

Sunny’s hair was a little more frizzed than usual and she clearly appeared to be afraid of something on the air. But she was trying to do her job.

After the election the management at Fox News had given her a choice of assignments outside of the United States. In part this was to allow her to get away from escalating level of violence being carried out by followers of former president Null against those who were perceived to be opponents of his continued and now illegal occupancy of the White House.

Sunny had no idea what was going on apart from the local civil defense sirens sounding off. She was saying that she and her camera crew were about to go down to a shelter when someone off camera shouted something. The camera shifted off of Sunny to something in the sky.

The display on the main part of the primary display in the command center showed that the warheads of the French missiles had reached Israel.

The view from the Fox News camera in Jerusalem showed three of the reentry vehicles dropping down on the city.

Sunny tried to describe what she saw. It was almost a play by play account as the locally based anti-missile battery tried to intercept the incoming warheads.

The first two warheads were killed on live television. The interceptor missiles failed to hit the third warhead.

Sonya Newman of Fox News made one final comment.

“One of the them got through.”

The was a very brief flash of light from the last warhead before the loss of the video signal from Jerusalem.

Everyone in the command center sat in stunned silence.

I had to say something.

“General?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I believe that the president will want to review any existing plans for action against the French.” I said. “There should be something on file.”

The fact that the French government, through their insistence on maintaining an independent foreign policy that was often antithetical to our interests, and by creating their own independent nuclear strike force, should have necessitated the creation of a separate plan for action against it.

And our field grade staff officers need to be kept busy in peacetime as well.

General Curtis sent the colonel standing next to him out to retrieve the relevant files.

When the airborne command post landed the general and I met the president on the ground. We all piled into one of the Chevy Suburban vehicles that our security group (the Secret Service was with former President Null) had scrounged up.

As we drove back to the headquarters General Curtis gave a brief summary of the existing options for dealing with the French. When he finished I spoke up.

“John,” I said to the President, “I made a promise to Benny that we would give their survivors sanctuary here in the States.”

John closed his eyes and nodded, and then thought for a moment.

“Al,” he said, “I think I’m going to have Susan fill in as chief of staff.”

I nodded.

John continued.

“This will be your project,” he said, “any asset you need, you got it. And anyone who doesn’t follow your orders goes straight to Leavenworth!”

“I’ll need a written executive order for that.” I replied.

“You got it!” Said President John Andrew March.

The driver of the Suburban dropped President March and General Curtis off at the command post. The driver then continued on to the field officer housing area of the air base where Susan and I were staying.

I found Susan sitting on the couch in the living room. The television set was showing the Fox News Channels continuing coverage of aftermath of the French attack on Israel. At the moment Fox News was showing internet video, apparently from the West Bank or Gaza area, of the glowing mushroom clouds rising above the cities of Israel. Some of the Palestinians were in the streets celebrating.

I was not consoled by the fact that those savages were now getting full exposure to some very dirty fallout from the attack.

I sat down next to Susan and gave her a hug. She held her teddy bear tightly and her face clearly showed signs that she had been crying.

“I saw Sunny.” She said.

“I know.” I replied.

Mr. Welch Is Still At It

2011-05-02T20:25:00.001-05:00

1929. Ayn Rand has no affect on my alignment.

It does on mine.
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Quote of the Day

2011-03-19T01:56:00.000-05:00

"A Bolo is what a Cylon wants to be when it grows up."

-- The Other Les

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The Truth About Penguins In The Traveller Universe. (A Repost)

2010-09-11T02:14:00.000-05:00

If anything, the apparently humble penguin is the central component to the mystery of why the Solomani, the Humans of Terra, were so slow to develop spaceflight and the jump drive.

The various species of penguin that we know of were Genetically Engineered by Yaskodray (a.k.a. Grandfather) as a means to suppress the growth and technological progress of Terrestrial Humans. The penguin brain while individually unimpressive, served as a component of a group mind which in turn functioned on Terra as a False Ruling Consciousness, an entity that the Solomani have commonly called "God."

The False Ruling Consciousness, being physically isolated on the Antarctic continent, would send psionic messages to various "prophets" who would in turn command their respective followers kill each other in progressively bloodier wars. This also had the unfortunate result of blackening the name of God in the minds of the Solomani as that the gods of most other races were more emotionally secure and far less prone to acting out.

It was when Claw and Beak disease was accidentally introduced to the primary penguin population by a British naval expedition ("Jenkins, STOP THAT!") that the False Ruling Consciousness became too weak to influence human affairs. Thus allowing the Solomani people to expand into deep space and attempt to take their rightful place in the Universe. ("Today, North Minehead...")
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A New Project

2010-06-29T19:37:00.001-05:00

[I'm writing a novel set in the Private Universe Mk 2.]

Frank reentered the room. He brought in a two page printout of something and a thick paper-bound book with a black-colored cover.

He stopped and looked at everyone.

“Did I miss something? He said.

Kira spoke up.

“The subject of Earth came up.” She said.

“Did you mention the lamp post?” He replied.

“What lamp post?” I said.

Andy sounded a little bit embarrassed when he answered.

“The lamp post that the senior senator from New York may have been hanged from.” He said.

“May have?” I said.

“Well we can’t be certain,” Andy replied, “the post in the recorded location may have been replaced one or more times since The Reformation.”

Alice jumped into the conversation.

“There was a lot of looting going on since the fall of the Earth.” She said. “We sent an expert team to the reported location of the artifact and recovered it, though technically it was an act of looting.”

“It’s called archaeology.” I said. “Where is it?”

Frank answered the question.

“We gave it a good home.” He said.

That answer sounded distressingly familiar. Unlike the fictional Captain Kirk I tried not to raise my voice in response.

“Where?”

Alice smiled when she replied.

“We put it in front of the new planetary government center in Landfall.” She said. “And we gave it a nice brass plaque to remind every member of the Senate and the Assembly to be on their best behavior.”

Quote of the Day

2009-09-11T01:12:00.001-05:00

"We usually short roped them. We wanted them to suffer."

-- Allen Keller, Memoirs.
_

Quote of the Day

2009-06-25T16:17:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking of doing another experimental chapter of Shadow of the Great Bear. The following lines came to mind during this process:

We're supposed to thank your god for an extinction event that killed off ten billion people? Why don't we rip out some beating hearts for him while we're at it?

-- First Lieutenant John Allen March, Ursa Major Confederation Marine Corps (2292)

News of the Day

2009-06-11T06:16:00.003-05:00

Mr. Welch is up to 1375.

I've found that using a glowing-hot false grail in the Monty Python and the Holy Grail adventure for Dungeons and Dragons did not score me any popularity points as a dungeon master.
_

It's Up To 1350

2009-05-27T19:12:00.002-05:00

Mr. Welch is up to 1350 things that he cannot do in a role playing game.

1329. The M203 is not for long range bocce ball.

1332. Even if silence is required for the entire adventure, we are not naming the Black Ops Operation: Mimecrime.

1333. I will tell the noob the game is about post nuclear Europe and not love struck vampires before we start.

1335. I can not filibuster in the middle of my dying speech to buy the cleric more time.

1336. Even if we are told to pick a manly name for the game, Genocidicles is a bit much.

1339. If unsure of what side of the road we drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

1341. Even if the rules allow it, I cannot become famous for not being famous.

1342. There is no god of Wombats, no matter how much I pray.

1344. No matter how cool it would be, we can’t use the time machine to loan Ike a few A-10 squadrons for D-Day.

1349. I will not program the medical droid for “aggressive dentistry.”

_

I've Just Updated My Flickr Page

2009-05-17T14:45:00.002-05:00

Hitting The Woodline

Something I did for the Minicon artshow.

The guy in the commander's hatch is more a Gallaci canine than a Traveller Vargr.

The Wild Turkeys

This is an incomplete strip I did for an incomplete project I did with Dave Semkow.

We see a bunch of Traveller mercenaries in a scene from Apocalypse Now calling on a character from Dave Sim's Cerebus The Ardvark. The Ranger Roach of course tends to externalize his internal dialogue.

I actually wrote two versions of the Roach's dialogue for the final panel.

Early Version of UncleDenny

Troops In The Field

The Freyan Armed Forces

Another early incarnation of Uncle Denny in a blatant rip-off of a work by Phil Foglio.

(I had more hair back then too.)

Quote of the Day

2009-04-18T07:34:00.002-05:00

"A copy of a Human Being is a Human Being. Period. To deny the Rights of Human Beings to a Human Clone is simply irrational and despicable. Those who created and voted for this appalling act of legislation are morally unfit to hold public office, and they should resign. Immediately."

-- President John Andrew March, Veto of the Clone Act.
_

A Fictional Person's Thought For The Day

2009-04-14T18:22:00.003-05:00

A sure sign that a civilized nation is in deep trouble is when a higher value is placed on the proper use of a salad fork than on the proper use of the weapons of a citizen-soldier.

-- Alice Keller March, The Path of Life

It came to me when I was working today.
_

Thought for the Day

2009-04-03T07:01:00.002-05:00

"When your primary instrument of policy is a fusion warhead your problems tend to end up looking like Moscow, Mecca, and Mexico City."

-- Captain J.M. Stark, Ursa Major Confederation Navy.

_

Statement of Policy

2009-01-31T21:31:00.005-06:00

Those individuals who believe that they have a right to use other people without their consent as subhuman livestock or as any kind of resource, whom I usually sarcastically refer to as Self-Appointed Superior Beings^TM, are by their own choice a clear hazard to human life and must be identified and dealt with as such. And because physical isolation does not prevent such individuals from acting to regain the power over other persons that they persist in believing is rightfully theirs, the only truly effective way to deal with such individuals is the eliminate them altogether.

That is, to kill them.

Such an act is no more an act of murder than putting down a rabid animal. (Of course the rabid animal had no choice in the matter.)

Those individuals, and their willing followers, who assign an inferior legal and moral status to their victims in order to use the victims as a resource for the achievement of their own goals are nothing less than Enemies of Human Kind. Is is not possible to reason with them. It is not possible to negotiate with them. And driving them off or isolating them is not a permanent solution. Such individuals and their willing followers can only be killed. Such an act must be performed in defense of ourselves as individuals and of Humanity in general.

Ayn Rand once said this in regard to one group of Self-Appointed Superior Beings^TM: Better see the Reds dead.

I wrote this statement in response to an anonymous idiot who refuses to see the difference between those who subjugate and murder human beings and those who exercise force in defense of Human Life and Human Liberty. Those who refuse to see this distinction are for all practical purposes a willing part of the problem and thus need to be included in the solution.

Furthermore, I will not tolerate their insults in the comments section of any of my blogs.

_

The Keller Memoirs

2009-01-25T12:16:00.001-06:00

December 9, 2059
March City, Mars

One thing an assassin should avoid is calling attention to himself before striking the target. I've actually broken this rule twice, but those were special cases.

I spent a good part of my 99th birthday giving a statement to the Federal Marshall in March City after some self-appointed superior being tried to stab me with a improvised plastic dagger. A badly made dagger at that.

Seriously, that idiot actually announced his intention to execute me for crimes against the People and the Earth while holding up the shank in the air with his right hand.

He apparently didn't think, or more likely, feel that I would actually fight back, let alone get in the first blow. I'm old and weak, but I'm not that old and weak.

I was in the process of rearranging the would be assailants face with my right fist when some good citizens of the Martian community pulled me off of him and others placed him under citizen's arrest. This did not stop the idiot from screaming out that I was a murderer.

Yes, I've personally performed a small number of homicides. And every one of them was a self-appointed superior being who looked upon and treated us mere mortals as nothing more than livestock. What I did was not murder, it was morally necessary.

Of course the assassination attempt is causing no end of consternation for the judicial system, both here and on Earth. No one has ever committed a capital crime here. Even though there is no shortage of personal weapons, including firearms. (This is, after all, a colony of the United States of Earth.) Which means no one has ever been executed here before.

And the investigation Earthside thus far has shown that the assailant could not have paid for the ticket to Mars and the repatriation bond on his own. He had a sponsor. The Director of CIS in Omaha has declared the search for that sponsor to be priority one.

Granted, anyone who would blow a major amount of money to knock off an old bastard like me, on another planet, is going to be a problem. But is he really, objectively speaking, that big of a problem?

If nothing else, I got some good exercise today.
_

The Keller Memoirs

2009-01-24T19:54:00.002-06:00

January 24, 2009
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Saturday was a bit busy. (You didn't think we'd take the weekend off, did you?)

On the day of the inauguration we formally took over the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building down by the airport. We evicted every agency that had gone over to The Zero and his crew. Which is to say all of them. We did give the individual local workers the chance to work for us. We didn't get anyone from the EPA. (Fucking Gaianists...)

At about 0900 on Saturday a Marine Corps KC-130 came into the airport from the east coast. We counted seven bullet holes on the aircraft. To no surprise to us the media drones supporting The Zero didn't report any fighting in the DC area.

On board were the Chief of Naval Operations, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, the Deputy Chiefs of Staff of the Army and the Air Force, their aides, and their immediate families. We set up new offices for them in the Whipple Building for the time being. We also told them that if they order pizza for delivery to NOT call it the Whipple Building. It confuses the delivery drivers. (We had to learn that one the hard way.)

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Chiefs of Staff of the Army and the Air Force went over to The Zero. Three nine-millimeter pistol rounds were duly set aside for them. (The nine-millimeter pistol is an acceptable weapon for (**COUGH**) administrative purposes, but anyone who reasonably expects to fight with a pistol prefers a .45.)

Around Noon a T-38 (that's a two seat supersonic trainer) came in from Offut Air Force Base.

In back seat was the governor of Nebraska, in the pilot's seat was the Commander of the what we used to call the Strategic Air Command. (Yes, I know general officers aren't supposed to fly airplanes by themselves.) They had an interesting proposition for us.

Oh, and we now own the U.S. nuclear arsenal too.

At about 1400 hours our time the United Nations Security Council voted to recognize The Zero and his crew as the legitimate government of the United States.

We expected that.

President March signed an executive order terminating our membership in the United Nations and repudiating all treaties sponsored by the U.N.

What we didn't expect was that the British Ambassador to the U.N. voted for the resolution.

The problem was that when FU died the Conservative Party didn't elevate his chosen successor to premiership, but instead voted in a very well polished dolt instead. Seriously, that idiot couldn't pass a mirror without preening himself in it.

John and I spent about an hour on the phone with his Aunt and FU's former chief henchman.

Things are going to get a bit hot for the Prime Minister in the next week or so.

And then Mom called.

My Mom. On the phone. She lives about a mile north of Wadena, Minnesota. So she's out of the way for now.

Unfortunately she still has a serious problem with the concept of lawful authority.

I spent the better part of an hour explaining to her that under the terms of the Twelfth Amendment that John Andrew March, that kid who used to give me a ride down to the Little Tin Soldier shop for Friday Night gaming in his Triumph TR-6 three decades ago, is the lawfully elected President of the United States. And that The Zero, the Speaker of the House and her clique, and the rest of The Other Party caucus in the House of Representatives, are now criminals with absolutely no legal authority whatsoever.

Oh, and the United Nations has no authority either.

After Mom hung up I ordered a pizza from Dulono's on Lake Street.

Yes, that's how I deal with stress. So how was your day?

_

Alternate History

2009-01-23T05:11:00.001-06:00

The Inaugural Address of President John Andrew March, given on the Twentieth day of January in the year of Our Lord 2009 in the City of Saint Paul, Minnesota.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Citizens and Soldiers of the United States, Honored Guests,

We as a nation face a crisis that is unprecedented, but was not entirely unpredictable.

It is with great sadness we find that the majority caucus in the House of Representatives of the United States has consciously rejected the will of the actual, living and breathing, citizens of our Republic, and has maliciously defied the ruling of the Supreme Court. Instead of acknowledging the will of the actual electorate through the Electoral College, the House of Representatives violated the supreme law to which it is subject and has elevated to the highest office an individual who is clearly unfit to hold any public office in any civilized nation.

Senator Laurence Null of Illinois, who wrongfully claims the Office of the President of the United States, is a long standing adherent of an ideology which openly denies the Value and Right of Human Life. An ideology which has repeatedly proven to have brought about the deaths of not less than a hundred million human beings throughout the last century. A fact that the ladies and gentlemen of the press, in willful dereliction of the duties assigned to them by the Founders of our Republic, have refused to report.

Instead of the Chief Executive lawfully elected by the actual living citizens of the American Republic, the apparatus of the United States federal government is now headed by an individual who is for all practical purposes a primitive stone-age god king. An individual who is now worshiped by a personality cult we not seen since the darkest days of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao.

In fact there is no federal government of the United States. There is now only an apparatus of violence which enforces the whims of what is for all practical purposes a barbarian chieftain.

The actual living and breathing citizens of the American Republic will now be denied their God-given right of Liberty and their Sovereign Authority. The working citizens and legal residents of the United States are now reduced to the legal and moral status of livestock, to now be used at the whim of a clique of self-appointed superior beings, or to be destroyed as if they were a diseased animal should they refuse to obey the self-appointed masters.

All Senator Null and his supporters have to offer the citizens of the United States are chains and death. This is an offer that we as Sovereign Citizens and as Human Beings must refuse by any and all means necessary.

We are now on the brink of a Second American Civil War, but there is still an opportunity to advert the coming storm.

To this end we call upon Senator Null and those who unlawfully elevated him to publicly acknowledge the fact that they are in violation of the Constitution. We furthermore call upon Senator Null and his supporters to resign from public office, and call upon them to leave this nation and go into exile.

Should Senator Null and his supporters choose instead to enforce their whims by violence then we will have no alternative but to reply in kind. In doing so we shall grant them no quarter and show them no mercy.

By rational persuasion or by open force we the sovereign citizens of the American Republic will take back our nation and we will restore the rule of law under the United States Constitution.

Thank you, and God bless the Republic.
_

From the Unpublished Memoirs of Allen Keller.

2009-01-21T16:57:00.006-06:00

Saint Paul, Minnesota
January 20, 2009

There were two inauguration ceremonies in the rotunda of the State Capital in Saint Paul.

The first was the elevation of the Lieutenant Governor to Governor of the state of Minnesota.

Then at eleven in the morning, local time, we did the president.

John Andrew March took the oath of office and then gave a short speech. It wasn't really inspirational, but there were definite Randian elements to it.

First, John never mentioned Socialism or Communism by name. He did mention Hitler, Stalin, and Mao, but that was in reference to the personality cult that emerged around The Zero.

Second, as Rand did throughout Atlas Shrugged and her later writings John described the actions of The Zero and his followers as manifestations of primitive or barbaric behavior.

The look on The Beast's face when John said all that was priceless.

Yes, the Junior Senator from New York was there. I'm sure virtually everyone there had the same thought I had

What. The. Fuck?

I had yet to talk to the Junior Senator or any of the staff people that came with her but I do have a theory.

The Junior Senator (I shall refrain from calling her The Beast or The Bitch for the time being) still wants to be president and I don't think that she wants to go down on the Speaker of the House to get the job.

That's my theory for the time being.

Minneapolis, Minnesota
January 23, 2009

The Hennepin County Jail was getting a bit crowded.

The Zero ordered the arrest of President March and everyone else actively involved with the Provisional Government. (Oddly enough, he didn't order the arrest of the Junior Senator from New York.)

Believe it or not, someone actually tried to carry out that order.

The first were a bunch of idiots from the local office of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms in their SWAT Team "cool guy" gear who tried to storm the March family residence in the Kenwood area of Minneapolis. They were stopped by Military Police from the Minnesota National Guard.

There were one hundred percent fatalities for the BATF agents. (I didn't bother to ask our guys about the nine millimeter holes in the backs of three of their heads.)

Then the Major of Minneapolis, a partisan of The Other Party, got into the act.

He called up the chief of police and ordered him to make the arrest. Prisoners were actually taken this time. His former Honor, the now former Major, the Chief of the Minneapolis Police, and five of the officers who were stupid enough to follow orders are now in the Hennepin County Jail. Three more police officers are in hospital under armed guard. Four officers are in the Hennepin County Morgue.

Everyone else in local law enforcement got the message. Don't fuck with us.

The Special Agent in Charge of the Minneapolis office of the FBI tried to put a call through to President March. I took the call. First, he pledged loyalty to President March and the Provisional Government. Not surprising given all of the National Guard and Army Reserve Humvees parked around the Federal Building and City Hall (they're across the street from each other) in downtown Minneapolis after the BATF and MPD incidents. Second, he passed on a couple of pieces of information from the Bureau's Chicago office.

Then there was the fun (I'm being sarcastic here) we had with the local media.

We called a meeting of the managements of the local newspapers, television, and radio stations at a convenient location. Not everyone we summoned showed up.

The folks from KLMN-TV, KLMN-AM and KLMN-FM, which were the local branch of the Lackland Media empire were one hundred percent with us. Everyone else was to one degree or another being a problem.

I had to stomp on them. Hard.

"Senator Null and the caucus of The Other Party in the House of Representatives have by their own actions repudiated the Constitution of the United States." I said. "Without the Constitution there is no First Amendment, and without the First Amendment you are all dead meat. And anyone who opposes the Constitution simply cannot claim protection under it. Have I made myself clear?"

There was still a lot of grumbling, especially from the editors of Minneapolis Star-Tribune, the local rag of The Other Party. I originally wanted to hang the entire reporting and editorial staff of the Star-Tribune, minus the token conservative columnist and that Lileks guy, from the Third Avenue bridge in Minneapolis, pour encourager l'autres. But we had to tread carefully at the
time as there were still too many people, especially in the armed forces, who were sitting on the political fence.

Then there was the fun we had with the two radio stations that didn't send anyone to the meeting.

One was the local FM-affiliate of the Pacifica network. The other was the AM-affiliate of the former Air America network.

On air personalities on both stations openly called for riots and the assassination of President March.

We didn't shut the stations down. We simply seized them and put some radio geeks from Our Party in charge and had them play "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?" By R.E.M. on continuous loop. The station staffs joined the other supporters of The Zero in the Hennepin County Jail.

The level of restraint we showed to the opposition lasted for about a total of ten days.

_

From the Unpublished Memoirs of Allen Keller.

2009-01-02T19:46:00.004-06:00

November 22, 2008

I had to do an Urquhartcide today.

Al Stein was by his own claim and the opinion of the morally and esthetically dysfunctional members of self-styled intellectual class a comedian. In fact he was a boring old socialist drone with delusions of talent. He was also a political commentator with delusions of credibility. His most recent misadventure prior to standing as a candidate for the U.S. Senate from Minnesota was as a talk show host on the Socialist talk radio network known as Air America.

I recall when Air America -- more properly labeled as Radio Pravda -- started up, the local affiliate put up posters at bus stops proclaiming that it was "talk radio without the lies." Something that could only be achieved by a Socialist radio station by the broadcast of dead silence.

So anyway Comrade Stein ran for the Senate against the incumbent Republican Norm Colman. Norm is a nice guy, but like most Republicans he's too nice. He won but the margin of victory was close enough under state law to mandate a recount.

This was where the problem really became apparent.

Local election officials, all Democrats of course, began reporting misplaced ballots or other forms of counting errors to the state election board. All of these so-called corrections favored Comrade Stein. It was very readily apparent that this senate seat was about to be stolen.

On top of this some of Comrade Stein's supporters were camped out on the front yard of his residence in Minneapolis. This had the effect of severely limiting our other options for solving the problem.

However an opportunity opened up when the owner of a new Italian restaurant, who wasn't terribly fond of Marxists, tipped us off that Comrade Stein had made reservations for Saturday night. I asked the owner to reserve a table for two on the same night.

My companion for the evening was a junior secretary from the local British consulate. She was in fact one of Corder's people, sent here to support JM and I in our plot to "dominate the world." I sat with my back to Comrade Stein and his party.

La Gondola, the new restaurant, had opened in the space formerly occupied by a Tex-Mex eatery on the southeast corner of Seventh Street and Hennepin Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. While waiting for the opportunity to solve the Stein problem I spoke to my dinner companion about the history of the building.

"Right over there," I pointed to the corner of the building on the intersection, "was one of the two Fanny Farmer candy shops I worked at after school."

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Light janitorial stuff." I said. "Two days a week here. Tuesday and I had the choice of working on either Thursday or Saturday. I picked Saturday."

"Well...why Saturday?" She was puzzled.

"I didn't want be dragged up to my family's lake place on the weekends... boring as Hell."

"I didn't know you were that well off?" She was surprised.

"We weren't" I replied.

She looked over to Comrade Stein's table.

"Some of those people are making obscene gestures at us," she said.

"Being a Superior Being means never having to behave like a civilized person." I said. "Marxists are funny that way."

She looked over there again.

"Stein's up. He's going to the rest room," she said.

"If you will excuse me." I said as I stood up.

I removed a stainless steel ball point pen from a pocket and placed it in my left hand as if it were an unlit cigar. Comrade Stein was alone and preening himself when I entered the rest room.

"Al," I said, "we need to talk."

"Fuck off!" He replied.

I ignored it.

"You know," I said, "FU could get pretty rough on his opponents, but there one thing he never did, and that was to fuck with the ballots."

Comrade Stein's image in the mirror glared at me.

"What part of 'Fuck off' did you NOT understand?" He growled.

"Nobody steals an election in this state." I said. "JM's going to appoint a special prosecutor after the inauguration. You will be removed from that seat and Lieutenant Governor Pawlenty will appoint Norm to finish out the term. You can walk away from this and save us all the fuss and bother. All you have to do is concede."

Comrade Stein turned towards me.

"We WILL take the White House!" He snapped. "And we WILL snuff out you FASCISTS once and for all!"

He was referring to the ongoing effort of his party to lawyer their way into the White House. And of course he also referred to the well documented homicidal tendencies of the Left toward those who refuse to submit to their will.

He returned to the image in the rest room mirror.

Of course the basic difference between Comrade Stein and a proper old-school Fascist was the silly uniform. But mentioning that would do no good at this point. I consciously decided to emulate JM's late uncle, Francis Urquhart.

"You may very well think that," I said, "but what you're moving towards is a civil war, and I seriously doubt that the United States Army will obey the orders of a Chicago Marxist who has obviously stolen the election, like the Big Zero. You will lose."

Comrade Stein snarled one more time.

"You're going to a supermax!" Which was the worst type of prison in the United States. "You're going to get raped and die of AIDS you piece of shit!"

It is simply not possible to reason with someone who believes that you have no right to live.

There was one thing that could only be done at this point. I switched the pen from left hand to the right and jabbed the point into Comrade Stein's back. I clicked the stud that would normally extend the ball point for writing but which instead extended a tiny needle into his back.

I pulled the pen out and put it back into my pocket.

Comrade Stein spun around.

"What was that?!" He yelled.

"A nonpersistent neurotoxin." I replied. "It won't show up in the autopsy."

Comrade Stein tried to leave the rest room. With my right arm I stopped him and shoved him back into the wall. The toxin was already weakening him.

"Comrade Lenin once said that the ends justify the means." I spoke softly. "You didn't really believe that we would be any less ruthless?"

Comrade Stein tried to speak one more time as I held him to the wall with my right hand.

"Mother...fuck..."

I replied.

"It's not personal Al, it's politics."

Comrade Stein collapsed to the floor and ceased breathing.

It was at this point that I stepped out of the rest room and raised my voice as if I were still a sergeant in the Army.

"Al Stein just collapsed on the floor, someone call nine-one-one!"

All of Comrade Stein's dinner companions, regardless of their gender, entered the Men's rest room while I returned to my table.

Our meal for the evening had not arrived at the table yet. I gestured to our waitress and pulled out a credit card.

"Is there a problem, sir?" She said.

"Apart from the commotion, no." I said as I handed her the credit card. "Could we have the check please?"

Two of Comrade Stein's companions, one of each gender, stumbled out of the Men's rest room. The female was moaning something about Stein being dead. The male stared at me for a moment and then began to look around for something. I placed my right hand on the Glock 36 that I carried concealed in a belt holster, ready to draw on the thug. He grabbed a wine bottle off of one of the tables when two Minneapolis officers entered the restaurant.

The waitress returned to the table with the check and my credit card just as the cops were placing the agitated Marxist goon in handcuffs. I wrote in a substantial tip and then handed the pen to my dinner companion.

"Your pen madame." I said as she accepted the pen and placed it in her purse.

With that gesture the instrument of my latest homicide was placed beyond the reach of the police.

I had to give a statement to the local cops. I said that Al Stein had collapsed when I told him that he would be prosecuted for election fraud.

"Some of his people are saying that you killed him." Said one of the cops.

I replied.

"Only if 'President-March' is a killing word."

I had to explain the reference.

###

From the Unpublished Memoirs of Allen Keller.

2008-12-30T13:18:00.002-06:00

January 2008

I hate ceremonies.

When I was in the Army I would find something that absolutely had to be done that very day so I wouldn't have to show up for the payday formation and any other ceremony that the C.O. would lay on for that day. Seriously, I would rather skip my own wedding if I could get away with it. (Fat chance on getting married).[1] And as a Randroid [2] you can only imagine how I feel about attending a Christian funeral service. Fortunately I really didn't have to. It wasn't my uncle who was being buried.

Most people have no idea how FU's [3] funeral service at Westminster Abbey came to being a total clusterfuck.

They had to bring in the vicar from FU's district [4] in Southampton to officiate. Most of the senior Anglican clergy, especially the Archbishop of Canterbury, who very thoroughly loathed FU wanted no part of the whole affair. My (lack of) God! What a fucking waste of mass and energy! The current Archbishop of Canterbury would rather quote from Marx and Engels than from Jesus Christ and he'd rather do a blowjob on an Ayatollah or a Soviet Commissar than say a kind word about Western Civilization.

I once asked Corder [5] if anything could be done about that idiot and he said that offing a member of the clergy was still considered to be bad form. Really?! That Becket mess was how long ago?! Sure, they can pop a pesky journalist, but lay hands on a turbulent priest? No way!

Of course as an atheist I really shouldn't care. But if someone is going to do something they should do to properly. The Universe is supposed to make sense. Where is General Loan [6] when we really need him?

The local anarchists and other trash were of course were planning to disrupt the funeral. The security services were working overtime to preemptively disrupt those assholes. No proper arrests. Just a few convenient drug overdoses, suicides, and one case of "revolutionary justice.'

I asked Corder if I could help out. He said no. Spoilsport.

JAM [7] got to sit with his Aunt Elizabeth and other family members, ahead of Dubya [8] and the other heads of state, and the cabinet ministers and, and the other MP's, and a bunch of Lords and Ladies. [9] There was no space in Westminster Abbey for a mere henchman like me. I ended up watching the whole thing on the TV with Lady Lackland at her place. So I can't say that the trip was a complete waste.

Did I mention the fact that I hate ceremonies?

1. Allen Keller would eventually marry Marlene Lackland in February of 2010.
2. The correct pejorative term for an Objectivist.
3. Sir Francis Urquhart, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and the uncle of President John
Andrew March of the United States.
4. Keller is using the American term for a parliamentary district.
5. A senior member of the British security services. In most conspiracy theories believed to be the head of Urquhart's goon squad.
6. South Vietnamese general officer who performed a summary execution of a illegal combatant and murderer in front of a newsreel camera during the Tet Offensive.
7. John Andrew March.
8. President George W. Bush of the United States.
9. Members of Parliament.

Quote of the Day

2008-12-21T12:22:00.002-06:00

When your primary instruments of policy are fusion bombs your problems end up looking like Moscow and Mecca.

-- Admiral Elizabeth Weymouth

Quotes of the Day

2008-11-22T18:38:00.002-06:00

"Ideology is the story that we tell ourselves... that what we are doing is right... and that it turn out well for us in the end."

-- John Andrew March, surveillance transcript, MI-5 Archive

"Politics is inherently violent, the best that we can do is limit the damage."

-- Ibid

_

Demeter

2008-10-27T20:06:00.003-05:00

Note: One of the problems with writing fan fiction is that sometimes one can come up with a better story. I'll have to incorporate stuff from THE WAY OF BEING into the background of this one.

Demeter

by Leslie Bates

Chapter One

The klaxon suddenly woke her up.

As she came to consciousness she could hear the voice of a slightly annoyed young man announcing something.

“GENERAL QUARTERS! GENERAL QUARTERS! ALL HAND TO BATTLE STATIONS! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!”

The ship’s klaxon sounded again.

It took her a moment to remember that her name was Joan Sherman, and that she was a Lieutenant (Junior Grade) in the Navy of the Republic of Freya.

Oh, and that she was also the captain of the Freya Navy Ship Reliable.

Joan donned and zipped up her gray shipboard jumpsuit. She didn’t bother to put on any shoes before punching the button that opened the door of her tiny cabin.

The first thing Joan noticed as she stepped onto the cramped bridge of the Reliable was that there were no stars, planets, or other bodies visible in the forward windows. There was only the unlit dull gray of Jumpspace.

There was no real emergency, only a randomly scheduled battle drill.

But as the captain Joan still had to play her role in the exercise.

There were three other people on the bridge when she entered it.

Sitting in the pilot’s seat was the executive officer, Ensign Hal Banning. At the fire control station running a simulation of the tactical scenario was the gunner, Petty Officer Third Class Jim Ripley. He was only wearing the tee shirt and boxer shorts that he normally slept in.

Standing on deck was the Chief of the Boat.

Normally a vessel such as the Reliable, an elderly Swift class multi-mission sloop, one of the smallest craft capable of transiting Jumpspace, would only rate a Petty Officer Third Class, or Second Class at best, as the senior noncommissioned officer on board.

The Republic of Freya Navy had very politely asked a retired Master Chief Petty Officer of the Freya Colonial Space Guard, the predecessor service to the Navy, to come out of retirement for one year. Dennis Compton wasn’t quite old enough to be Lieutenant Sherman’s grandfather, but he was fairly close to it.

It was time for the captain to speak.

“What’s the situation?”

Master Chief Petty Officer Compton replied.

“Captain, we have a Federation Tango class patrol ship on an intercept vector to us.” He said. “We are running evasive maneuvers.”

“What the hell do they want?” Said the Lieutenant.

“They want us to surrender.” Said the Master Chief.

Up until about five years ago the Federation was the coalition of English speaking nations and their allies who held political domination over the Earth. The eruption of the Yellowstone super volcano brought an abrupt end to it. With the Federation capital buried under several meters of volcanic ash and anyone who could not leave the planet dying of starvation or killed in the vast planetwide food riot the Federation as an effective political entity was dead.

But the vast fleet of starships paid for by ten billion no longer living taxpayers still existed. Some of those ships were still operated by the coalition of core colonies that claimed to be the continuation of the Federation. Some ships went to those worlds who put in the highest bid for their services. Others simply went pirate.

And some of those had already attacked the Freyani homeworld.

The Tango class patrol ship had four times the size, mass, and firepower of the Reliable and had twice the acceleration. In a fight with conventional weapons the Reliable would lose.

But it didn’t really matter who was in control of the attacking ship. Surrender was simply not an option.

“We are not going to surrender.” She said. “Load the Bird.”

It wasn’t a technically correct order but the gunner understood it clearly.

“Load Mark Two anti-ship weapon, aye, aye.” He replied.

The Reliable carried a single triple weapon turret fitted in what the Freyan Navy called the Bravo configuration. Two beam lasers rated at 750 megawatts each, and a single missile launcher. The missile launcher normally carried three of the Mark One anti-ship missiles in the ready rack.

A basic anti-ship missile such as the Freyan Navy Mark One was a kinetic energy kill system. The warhead was a segmented mass of steel with a bursting charge to scatter the fragments should the missile’s guidance system fail to achieve a direct dead-on impact on the target.

But it was understood by the political and military leaders of the Republic of Freya that not all of their patrol vessels would have the upper hand in every situation. Thus a “battery-round”, which was one weapon per launcher, of Mark Two anti-ship weapons would be issued to each patrol ship regardless of its size.

The Mark Two anti-ship weapon carried a five kiloton boosted fission nuclear warhead. In the parlance of the patrol forces of the Freyan Navy it was called The Bird or The Finger. It was simply the weapon of last resort.

In the aft section of the ship in the accessway to the single turret the rest of the crew practiced the loading procedure with blue painted inert practice rounds.

On the bridge Lieutenant Sherman turned to the Master Chief and gave him an order.

“Chief of the Boat, unlock the safe.” She said.

“Unlock the safe, aye, aye.” He replied.

On the aft end of the bridge a bright and shiny box was bolted to the bulkhead. The Master Chief dialed the combination of mechanical lock on the box. With the final click of the lock he opened the box, reached in and picked out one of the two manila
envelopes in the box. The first envelope was marked with a red stripe and sealed with red colored wax. The other envelope had no markings and was merely closed with the flap in.

The Master Chief picked out the second envelope and handed it to Lieutenant Sherman.

Joan opened the envelope and removed the practice arming key for the Mark Two anti-ship weapon. She turned to the ship’s gunner and spoke.

“Fire Control, what is the status of the Mark Two?”

“Captain,” he said, “I show the Mark Two loaded and ready to launch. Firing solution is laid in.”

“I am arming the weapon.” She replied.

Lieutenant Sherman turned and stepped towards the pilot’s station.

On top of the forward control panel between the pilot’s and co-pilot/navigator’s seats was bolted a small shiny box with two key slots and red and a yellow light. Joan inserted the key into the slot under the yellow light.

“I am arming the weapon.” She said.

She turned the key and the yellow light lit up.

“Captain.” Said the Gunner. “I show the weapon is armed.”

“Launch weapon.” Lieutenant Sherman ordered.

“Launch weapon, aye, aye!” The Gunner replied.

The Gunner pressed a button and watched the results on the fire control display.

“Weapon away!” he yelled.

Joan heard the click of a stopwatch being stopped. She turned to the Master Chief to see that he had pulled the stopwatch from a pocket in his shipboard jumpsuit.

“How did we do?” She asked the Master Chief.

“We passed, Ma’am.” He replied.

“And?” She said.

“We could do better, Ma’am.” Said the Master Chief.

Ensign Banning in the pilot’s seat failed to suppress his own groan.

_

Quote of the Day

2008-10-19T07:44:00.002-05:00

"There is no such thing as an Ubermensch. There are only deluded fools who believe that they are superior beings."

-- Patricia Weymouth-Clarke, President of the Ursa Major Confederation

_

Quote of the Day

2008-10-17T02:38:00.001-05:00

"When one makes a bloodcurdling statement one should not have to also say. 'and I mean it!'"

-- Ashleigh Dahl, The Path of Empire
_

Quotes of the Day

2008-10-06T08:41:00.004-05:00

The Universe doesn't care how neat your theory is.

-- Professor Simon Weymouth, on book tour for The End of Utopia, 2101.

Martians (colonists) take pride in their work, of course Martians actually do work.

-- Elizabeth Anderson, Chief Administrator, Hellas City, Mars. Quoted in the Report on the Failure of the Utopia Planitia Colony, 2095.

The Way Of Being, Chapter Two

2008-10-05T10:36:00.003-05:00

The Way of Being

By Leslie Bates

Chapter Two

“There are those who believe that they are superior intellects. They choose to believe things which are often contrary to good old common sense. And of course they believe that the rest of us would benefit from listening to them drone on and on about what they believe ... in the aftermath of the loss of the third Mars Direct mission these voices, which had largely been silent since the end of the Final War, rose up and spoke as one saying that we, the Human race, should not waste any further effort in exploring and colonizing other planets until all our problems on Earth were solved. This, given the usual ideology of the self-appointed superior intellects, was taken to mean the establishment of the global socialist collective ... My Uncle John’s* answer to them was that we will NEVER solve all of our actual problems on Earth. And not only should we NOT bet the future of Humanity on the Final Peace actually being final, we should also note that we live in a dynamic universe and that unstoppable extinction events are still possible. Therefore it is absolutely essential that we establish permanent self-sustaining Human communities off of the Earth. On other planets of the Solar System and ultimately on the planets of other stars in our galaxy.”

– Francis Harding, Fifth President of the Federation

Lieutenant Elizabeth Adams, the Captain (Gold Crew) of the Freya Colonial Space Guard Ship Reliable, finished her second set of fifty push-ups for the day and turned over to do her second set of fifty sit-ups, this in turn would be followed by a run on the ship’s treadmill. Doing two sets of exercises a day was not as much a matter of diligence on her part as it was more a means of relieving the inherent boredom of performing a patrol in space.

But it didn’t hurt her either.

The exercise routine also allowed Elizabeth to mentally focus on something other than the most recent message from her mother announcing the birth of a son to her youngest sister Hannah and the often repeated question of when she was going to leave the Space Guard and get married.

Elizabeth Adams was the third of five sisters. Colonial families, even well off upper class families like hers, were generally larger than the families who remained on Earth. But was it really necessary for her to marry and add her own brood to the new generation of colonists as well?

And who the hell was she going to marry anyway?

Lieutenant Adams was called to the bridge before she finished her run on the treadmill. She folded the treadmill back into its stowage slot, grabbed her towel, and wiped off the sweat as she walked to the bridge.

It wasn’t a long walk. The Reliable was a Swift Class multi-mission sloop that the Freya Project had purchased second hand from the Federation Space Force. At 1400 cubic meters in volume the Swift was smallest standard vessel that could generate a stable jump field. And of course the designers would try to stuff as many components as possible into the tiny flattened bottle shape of the hull.

Elizabeth stepped through the sliding hatch onto the bridge. Standing watch on the bridge was the Chief of the Boat. As a general rule he preferred to sit in the navigator’s seat on the right side of cramped control space of the Reliable.

“What do you got, Chief?” Said the Lieutenant.

“Emergence from jumpspace.” Said the Chief. “It’s a two-hundred tonner. Transponder signal says it’s a space force Ashland class.”

Elizabeth picked up the clipboard she kept by the pilot’s seat and searched through the collected notes on it.

“It should be one of the ships carrying the new Governor General of Loki and his party.” Said the Lieutenant. “Transmit the greeting as planned.”

“Should we mention what’s been going on dirtside?” Said the Chief.

“No.” Said Elizabeth. I think he will far more pissed off if it is a complete surprise.”

...

The Meridian appeared after only six hours and forty-five minutes.

The immense disk of the Meridian was the first to settle on it’s landing legs at the primitive landing facility on Loki. There wasn’t much to the facility, which by the standards of the Federation only qualified as Class E, the lowest rating for an actual starport.

The control tower was a tiny room jutting out of the small whitewashed concrete block building that served as the administration building and terminal with three picture windows that slanted inward. The landing pad was little more than a cleared area that was covered over with gravel. There were also three sheet steel structures constructed as warehouses but with no wares to house.

What passed for a refueling facility was a small pump and a pipe to the nearest small lake. A visiting ship’s onboard fuel purification plant would have to separate the hydrogen from the oxygen and other contaminants.

The barely streamlined brick of the Epping Forest circled the field before she made her landing. She was about one third the size of the Meridian.

The manager of the starport floated his air raft, a gravitic descendent of the Jeep, out to the debarkation ramp of the Meridian. He settled the air raft onto the gravel and jumped out and strode confidently over to the large and obvious authority figure in civilian clothes who was the first to debark from the Meridian.

“Good afternoon, Governor General,” said the starport manager, “I’m Lloyd Robertson, the starport manager. Welcome to Loki, sir!”

The large obvious authority figure went into a fit of booming laughter.

“Um...” the starport manager ummed.

“Sergeant Major Anatoly Stedenko.” The large man introduced himself with an obvious Russian accent. “Formerly of the 58th Security Police Battalion out of Smolensk.”

Lloyd the starport manager stared.

“The Old Man asked me to come along when he got the job. He’s over on the Epping Forest.” Said the retired Sergeant Major.

“If you run over to it now you should catch him before he disembarks.”

Stedenko laughed again as the hapless starport manager leapt back into his air raft to speed over to the Epping Forest.

* John Andrew March, Founder and First President of the Federation. He was not actually an uncle to Francis Harding, the son of British Prime Minister Sarah Harding, but there are some grounds to believe that John and Francis were actually biological cousins.

_
###

Quote of the Day

2008-10-04T08:37:00.002-05:00

"A Carthaginian Peace is better than no peace at all."

-- John Andrew March, Last President of the United States and First President of the Federation.
_

Yes/ I'm still working on it.

2008-09-27T09:57:00.002-05:00

From FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES, PART TWENTY:

Most entertainment programs that depicted battles in space, even in the early twelfth century of the Third Imperium, showed combat as a rapid-fire slugfest at ultra close range. In reality any ship’s captain who brought his ship close enough to be visible to the naked eye would be summarily removed from command and cashiered for incompetence. Assuming of course that he survived the battle.

Actual combat in space was about as interesting as watching paint dry. Except of course for the fact that the freshly applied coat of paint wasn’t desperately trying to locate and kill you.

And:

The problem with reconfigurable holographic control panels was that they had no knobs to twiddle. Ditzie liked to twiddle knobs on control panels. It was fun. Especially when there was an adult around to complain about her twiddling the knobs.

"Those are platinum coated knobs, miss!" One of them once said with a something resembling a Cockney accent. Ditzie had only a vague idea what planet that fellow was from.

It's Friday!

2008-09-19T18:17:00.002-05:00

It's also Talk Like an Ethically Challenged Merchant Day here on Terra.

Arrr.
_

Another Ship

2008-09-05T09:51:00.004-05:00

Ship: Epping Forest
Class: Ashland
Type: Free Trader/Light Transport
Architect: Lockheed Martin
Tech Level: 9

USP
A-2211111-020000-10000-0 MCr 76.238 200 Tons
Bat Bear 2 2 Crew: 6
Bat 2 2 TL: 9

Cargo: 60 Passengers: 7 Fuel: 44 EP: 2 Agility: 0
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops and On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 0.762 Cost in Quantity: MCr 60.990

Detailed Description

HULL: 200 tons standard, 2,800 cubic meters, Cone/Basic Streamlined Configuration

CREW: Pilot, Engineer, Steward, Medic, 2 Gunners
ENGINEERING: Jump-1, 1G Manuever, Power plant-1, 2 EP, Agility 0
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/1 Computer
ARMAMENT: 2 Triple Mixed Turrets each with: 1 Pulse Laser (Factor-1), 2 Sandcasters (Factor-2)
FUEL: 44 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 56 days endurance)
On Board Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 10 Staterooms, 20 Low Berths, 6 High Passengers, 60 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 77.000 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.762), MCr 60.990 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 57 Weeks Singly, 46 Weeks in Quantity
COMMENTS: Standard light utility transport of the Federation Space Force. Surplus Units have been sold into civilian operation as free traders.

_

Boycott Uncle Hugo's

2008-08-31T19:46:00.001-05:00

I will no longer do business with Uncle Hugo's Science Fiction Bookstore in Minneapolis.

I picked up the latest issue of the bookstore's newsletter at my P.O. box. After announcing that they were having a sale on used books someone inserted this charming paragraph:

We hope you can get here the first weekend, before the RNC begins, but who knows about the period while the RNC is in town. We suggest that you stop thinking of the RNC as the Republican National Convention and instead think of it as the Republican National Circus, with one team of clowns performing inside the convention center and a different team of clowns performing on the streets outside the convention center.

They have a right to their own opinion, regardless of how utterly distorted it is.

They do not have a right to my custom.

I've been doing business with them for three decades. Never again will I step into that store.

I would suggest a long term metaphysical destination for them but I have no reason to believe in the existence of Hell.

What are your questions on this block of instruction?
_

The Way Of Being, Chapter One

2008-08-24T20:21:00.002-05:00

The Way of Being

By Leslie Bates

Chapter One

March 5, 2150

10 Ursae Majoris System

The Federation Ship Epping Forest dropped into normal space off of Loki, the fourth planet of 10 Ursae Majoris A. Like most vessels in the service of the Federation Space Force she was armed. But she was not a proper warship, merely an armed transport. Even so she was not flying alone on this trip.

On the bridge of the Epping Forest the command pilot, Major Franz Bergmann, softly cursed in his native German. Like all citizens and officers of the Federation, Bergmann was fluent in Standard Anglic, he just didn’t want the curse to be understood.

The problem was that the other vessel in the two ship convoy, a chartered liner named Meridian had not yet reentered normal space with the Epping Forest.

Bergmann rechecked the status display, cursed again, and then turned to the young lady who was his executive officer.

“We will wait here until Meridian drops in.” He said. “Watch the shop.”

“Yes sir.” Said the Exec.

As Bergmann turned to exit the Bridge the communications panel chirped.

Bergmann turned back to see the Executive Officer reading the message from her station.

“It’s a Freyani patrol ship,” she said, “they’re asking if we require assistance.”

For a moment Major Bergmann contemplated the damage the tiny colonial patrol ship could do to a space going piece of junk like the Meridian.

“Tell them ‘no’”, said Bergmann. “But think them for the offer.”

Bergmann exited the bridge.

On the civilian version of the Ashland class transport the next compartment would be the forward passenger lounge, with the crew lounge in a separate compartment just forward of the engineering spaces. On the Space Force version there was no separation between the crew and passenger spaces as in most cases the few passengers who flew on military transports were members of the Federation Armed Forces.

Except on this trip they were carrying a V.I.P., the newly appointed Governor of the planet Loki.

Ian March Weymouth was a descendant of the founder of the Federation and as a child of privilege he would have been expected to travel out to Loki on the chartered liner Meridian. Instead he chose to take a cabin on the Epping Forest because he felt more comfortable on a military transport than on a civilian liner. But then Weymouth was not a normal child of privilege.

Unlike many members of upper class families, who would drink and otherwise party their way through elite universities, Ian Weymouth chose to enlist in the Regular Army of the Federation and served out the full twenty years to retirement. And though he retired from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel, Weymouth did not neglect his own education, earning a Doctorate in Political Science from the University of Minnesota.

So when the Federation President decided to appoint a Governor for the planet Loki, Ian Weymouth stood at the top of the list of candidates.

In the crew lounge Major Bergmann found the newly appointed Governor attacking a small pile of scrambled eggs with melted cheese sauce, hash brown potatoes, and toast.

Weymouth took a sip from his cup of coffee, and then spoke.

“Good morning Major,” he said. “I take it that we’ve arrived in the system?”

“Yes, sir.” Said Major Bergmann. “We are still waiting for the Meridian.”

“I’ll bet it’s going to be another sixteen hours.” Said Ian. “That would be a reasonable assumption, sir.” Bergmann replied, politely declining to cover the wager.

“Right.” Said Ian.

Before Major Bergmann could turn around the aft door to the lounge slid open and two Federation Marines entered the crew lounge and moved straight to the breakfast buffet line. First Lieutenant Otomo and Gunnery Sergeant Burnette headed up the Marine Security Detachment for the new Governor of Loki.

“Good morning, Skipper.” Said Lieutenant Otomo.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” Replied Major Bergmann as he picked up a tray and joined the two marines in the buffet line.

“We’re waiting for the Meridian again, sir?” Said the Gunnery Sergeant.

“Afraid so, Gunny.” Said Bergmann.

Major Bergmann watched as both marines heaped scrambled eggs, and other stuff on to the plates on their trays. Lieutenant Otomo piled on sausage patties and hash browns, and Gunnery Sergeant Burnette opted for bacon and grits.

“I’d bet that its going to be another sixteen hours before they drop out of jump, sir.” Said Lieutenant Otomo.

“That would be a reasonable assumption, Lieutenant.” Bergmann replied, again declining to cover the wager.

Major Bergmann picked up a plate and started piling his breakfast on it. Scrambled eggs, corned beef hash, and hash browns, all covered with melted cheese sauce.

The three officers sat down at the table with the Governor and proceeded to devour their morning meals.

“So was there anything else of note, Major?” Ian asked.

“The Freyani are still running an anti-piracy patrol, sir.”

Freya was the other inhabitable world in the 10 Ursae Majoris system. It orbited the G5 binary companion of 10 Uma.

The people who colonized Freya believed in Laissez Faire Capitalism and being armed to the teeth. And they had no love whatsoever for the small band of “Apostolic Socialists” who had settled on Loki.

“I don’t understand why the Freyans would run a patrol over Loki, sir.” Said Lieutenant Otomo. “Don’t they hate each other?”

“They do.” Said Ian. “That’s why the Freyani are running the anti-piracy patrol.”

“It means, sir,” said Gunnery Sergeant Burnette, “that we are going to have a very interesting deployment.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

###

A Patrol Ship

2008-08-23T13:03:00.002-05:00

I took a pencil sketch and fiddled with it in Photoshop.

This is the Freya Colonial Space Guard ship Reliable. The "S057" is her number in the Federation civil ships registry.

Here are the stats:

Ship: Reliable
Class: Type S-1A
Type: Scout/Courier
Architect: Lockheed Martin
Tech Level: 9

USP
S-11122R1-020000-10000-0 MCr 50.238 100 Tons
Bat Bear 1 1 Crew: 2
Bat 1 1 TL: 9

Cargo: 12 Fuel: 24 EP: 2 Agility: 1 Pulse Lasers
Craft: 1 x 4 Ton Air/Raft
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops and On Board Fuel Purification

Architects Fee: MCr 0.496 Cost in Quantity: MCr 40.310

Detailed Description

HULL: 100 tons standard, Needle/Wedge Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Gunner,
ENGINEERING: Jump-1, 2G Manuever, Power plant-2, 2 EP, Agility 1
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/1bis Computer
ARMAMENT: 1 Triple Mixed Turret with: 1 Pulse Laser (Factor-1).
DEFENCES: 1 Dual Sandcaster Turret organised into 1 Battery (Factor-2)
CRAFT: 1 x 4 ton Air/Raft (Cost of MCr 0.600)
FUEL: 24 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 56 days endurance)
On Board Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 4 Staterooms, 12 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 50.134 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.496), MCr 39.710 in Quantity, plus MCr 0.600 of Carried Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 38 Weeks Singly, 30 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: Reliable is one of four surplus Scout/Couriers in service with the Freya Colonial Space Guard. The others are Resolution, Resister, and Red-Shift.

REACH

2008-08-20T20:39:00.000-05:00

Just a reminder.
_

The Way Of Being, Prologue

2008-08-19T10:02:00.005-05:00

The Way of Being

By Leslie Bates

Prologue

[Author’s note: While I’ve borrowed characters from the Urquhart Trilogy certain events happened differently or did not happen at all. Obviously the conflict that drove TO PLAY THE KING didn’t happen and whatever financial mischief that occurred in THE FINAL CUT was rendered irrelevant by the so-called Final War. And of course LEGACY never happened. No, I can’t say what happened to the tape. –LB.]

It was cold in the ruins of Moscow.

Yes, Russian winters were a bitch. But Allen Keller had experienced colder days in his native state of Minnesota. He was dressed comfortably for the morning’s event. Of course not everyone was as sensibly prepared for the weather and there was no shortage of whining, moaning, and groaning about it.

Standing with a military honor guard at a gap in the rubble that was once the wall of the Kremlin, Allen Keller waited for the last official delegation to arrive. There was a time when he would have expected the Italians to be late to today’s event but the only word they seemed to use these days was “Avanti!” Of course after the Vatican and most of Rome had gone up in a cloud of radioactive smoke this should not have been a surprise.

It had been years since a main force unit of the alliance, now known as the Omaha Pact, clashed with any organized opposition. But there were still insurgents and bandits to deal with in the territories controlled by the Omaha Pact.

A lifetime ago, when he was a mere rifleman on a grass cutting detail in the United States Army, Keller had once joked that his role in the big NATO war plan was to cut the grass around Red Square for the great NATO victory parade. Of course back then the Soviet Union was something to be feared. And if it was possible to win in a global nuclear was it would be the Soviet Union that emerged as the victor.

In a way that old joke was somewhat prescient. Not that there was grass to be cut, certainly not in the middle of a Russian winter, but that Allen Keller was in charge of the event that would bring to an official end to the final global war on the planet Earth.

And it wasn’t really a ceremony, only a simple act of justice followed by a simple act of disposal.

The chill air efficiently carried the sound of the last motorcade to enter the vast plowed expanse of Red Square. The sergeant in charge the honor guard called his troops to attention as the line of Humvees approached the former gate of the Kremlin.

The sergeant called out the command to present arms as the motorcade came to a stop. The rear seat doors of two of the Humvees were opened and a man and woman emerged from each of the vehicles. Keller greeted them as they approached. He nodded his head in a barely perceivable manner to the former occupants of the first Humvee.

“Your Majesty, Madame Prime Minister.” Said Keller.

King William the Fifth had inherited the position of Monarch of the United Kingdom when his grandmother, the Queen, his father, The Prince of Wales, and both houses of Parliament were effectively vaporized on the first day of the Final War. His prime minister, Sarah Harding, had been the protegee of Conservative Prime Minister Francis Urquhart and had been in Oxford attempting to reconcile with her estranged husband on the day the war started. A task made more difficult by her visible state of pregnancy at that time. However this didn’t stop her from inheriting Urquhart’s political machine and thus effective control of the United Kingdom, and bringing it into the Omaha Pact.

Keller then turned to greet the occupants of the other Humvee.

“Lady Urquhart, Commander Corder.”

The wife of Prime Minister Urquhart and his chief hatchet man were at the Urquhart estate in Southampton on the day the war started. Keller had his own suspicions as to what they were doing but he sensibly kept those to himself.

“If you will follow me, please.” Said Keller.

He led the official British delegation and the honor guard through the charred and shattered ruins of the Kremlin to a large heated tent next to a cleared area. He let the official delegation in before he entered the tent himself.

Upon entering the tent Allen Keller walked over to his boss, the President of the United States and Chairman of the Council of the Omaha Pact, John Andrew March.

“Everything is ready, sir.” He said.

“Let’s do it.” The President and Chairman replied.

Outside of the tent a set of bleachers had been set up. In front of the bleachers was a pile of wood that had been salvaged from the ruins of Moscow, some soldiers, and a Ford van that had been painted in army green.

When the official delegations of all the members of the Omaha Pact had taken their place in the bleachers behind President March, Allen Keller stepped forward, turned to the soldiers by the van and spoke clearly.

“Proceed.”

The side door of the van was opened and the soldiers reached in. Out of the van they dragged a white haired man in the tattered remains of a tailored suit. He had been bound and gagged. There would be no final words for him. The old man was dragged over and dropped on his knees before Allen Keller.

Keller spoke.

“Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.”

Putin glared up at Keller.

“You have been identified as an Enemy of Mankind. You are to be dealt with as such.”

A soldier in a black mask stepped up behind Putin, drew a Soviet era Markarov pistol from a holster, aimed at the back of the head, and fired one round in the old Soviet style.

Putin fell forward. Dead.

Other soldiers now stepped forward. They lifted up the corpse of Putin and laid it out face down on the pile of wood. Upon the body they placed the blood-red banner of the Soviet Union and then piled more wood on top. At the bottom of the funeral pyre volumes of Marxist literature and ancient copies of Pravda pulled from libraries and museums were laid down as kindling. One of the soldiers brought out a lighter and set an ancient sheet of newsprint aflame. Shortly thereafter the entire pyre was on fire.

The official delegations returned to their Humvees and drove to the airport. There was one more stop to make, one more act to witness, before everyone could return home.

With the end of one age comes the beginning of the next era.

At Cape Canaveral a massive rocket lifted off from the newly constructed Launch Pad 39-D. Aboard it was the Earth Return Vehicle for the first manned mission to the planet Mars. On it’s side was painted not the flag of any nation, but a flag with a white star within a white wreath on a blue field. The banner of the Omaha Pact. In two years another spacecraft would go out, it’s four-person crew would place human footprints upon the Martian surface for the first time.

There would further missions to Mars and other planets. There would be bases and permanent settlements to ensure that Humanity would not be trapped on one world and condemned to extinction. There would be new technologies such as fusion power, anti-gravity, reactionless thrusters, and ultimately the jump drive, which would take Mankind to the stars.

On that cold day in the ruins of the Kremlin someone within earshot of President and Chairman John March had said that world peace had finally been achieved.

March turned around and said. “Oh? Really?”

###

Quote of the Day

2008-08-11T23:48:00.004-05:00

I've been putting this off for a while but I thought it would be a good time to do it now:

When the nations of the Omaha Pact came upon the smoking ruins of Moscow they decided to make an example that would be remembered through the ages.

The glassy ruins of the Kremlin were left intact. The forces of the Omaha Pact proceeded to demolish every whole structure or fragment of a structure within one hundred miles, not kilometers, miles of the Kremlin. Every brick was separated and smashed into small pieces, and every scrap of wood was burned to ashes. Every tree was cut down and uprooted and with every other form of plant life was also burned to ashes. When this task completed all the ground within one hundred miles of the ruins of the Kremlin was sown with salt.

While tourist groups are now brought across the Death Zone to view the ruins of the Kremlin, which remains as a monument to the evils of the Russian State, any unauthorized person, usually an ethnic Russian, found within the Death Zone is summarily executed and is covered with salt, lest the remains decay and renew the soil where he fell.

-- The History of the Omaha Pact, Joseph Douglas, University of Minnesota Press, 2150.

Definition

2008-08-06T22:47:00.004-05:00

"Peace does not mean submission in the Freyani dialect of English. Some people had to learn that the hard way."

-- Ashleigh Dahl, The Path of Empire
_

Earth in 2150

2008-08-02T20:46:00.002-05:00

I made up this map of the Earth in 2150.

As you can see the colors denote the political status of various states and territories.

I also redrew some borders.
_

The Flag of Our Forefathers

2008-07-19T08:43:00.003-05:00

As part of this private universe project I've designed a flag for the political entity that ruled Earth at the time of the Yellowstone Supervolcano eruption of 2189.

I'm also thinking of starting the campaign in Private Universe Mk II in the year 2150.

Comments?
_

So Anyway

2008-07-11T11:02:00.000-05:00

I finally started my own myspace page.

Whoopie!

_

Quote of the Day

2008-07-11T00:03:00.002-05:00

We don't want to nuke everyone, only our enemies.

-- Admiral Elizabeth Weymouth, UMC Navy.

Quote of the Day

2008-07-01T03:11:00.000-05:00

"The Freyani are really into that 'pour encourager les autres' thing."

-- Some Historian.

_

And Now...An Update

2008-06-18T21:14:00.002-05:00

From Things 1101 Through 1125 That Mr. Welch is not allowed to do in a roleplaying game:

1101. I will not cut the vault guards in on the haul instead of fighting them.

1103. Just because I was paid in advance doesn’t mean I can let the incompetent expedition leader die.

1104. There is a limit to how much innuendo I can fit into one combat round.

1107. I will not attempt to clear out the dungeon using only Bangalore torpedoes.

1108. Picking his pocket means more than just turning him upside down and shaking him vigorously.

1113. I will not shoot vampires in the chest with a large pistol just so they have to explain the embarrassing sucking chest wound.

1114. I will not take a phobia of anything that doesn’t exist in the game world.

1117. Can’t strangle a werewolf with a roll of Kodak film, no matter what we all know it’s made out of.

1118. In the middle of a black ops I will not use up all the claymores just because I don’t want to take them back with me.

1119. I cannot have my mercy surgically removed.

1120. Even if I’m in charge I can’t order the Assault Lance to perform West Side Story dance routines.

1123. In the middle of a black ops I can’t call my girlfriend to remind her to pick up some Chinese on her way home.

1124. I will leave out mating rituals when presenting a cultural exchange with diplomatic ambassadors.

1125. Letting the Red Shirt guard the plane is really frowned upon as it doesn’t leave anybody to sacrifice to the Shoggoths.

_

And Now For Something Completely Different

2008-05-31T08:38:00.000-05:00

Advice for the youth of The Far Future:

"Respect your parents, go to school, and stay out of trouble."

Motivation for the Day

2008-05-16T09:16:00.001-05:00

Someone Else's Thought For The Day

2008-04-20T17:33:00.002-05:00

Someone on an obscure forum had this thought:

Had a fun thought- if Monthy Python had been in charge at the (British) Admiralty, you might have seen BCs (battlecruisers) with names like Inadmissible, Inapplicable, Incontinent, Incurable, Indefinable, Indifferent and Wombat.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled reality.
_

Legacy

2008-04-12T21:25:00.002-05:00

Chapter Five

January 2008

Susan Korrel barely paid attention to the flat screen televison set playing in the office of her patroness the junior Senator from New York.

Until someone said, “who’s that?”

Susan looked up to see the image of an old nemesis shaking hands with the acting British Prime Minister. The television set was showing the Fox News Channel’s coverage of President Bush’s arrival in the United Kingdom.

“That’s Tom Makepeace,” said Susan, “he was Urquhart’s foreign secretary.”

“No,” the other staffer said with a tone of annoyance, “who the guy shaking hands with him.”

“Doctor John Andrew March.” Said Susan with a discernable tone of anger. “Formerly of the Collage of Saint Anthony, presently the Republican Governor of Minnesota. He’s Urquhart’s nephew.”

It was at this point that Hillary Rodham, the junior Senator from New York, interjected herself into the conversation.

“You’re angry at him.” She said. “Why?”

Susan decided to answer the question with a more level tone of voice.

“He’s the only teacher I had in my entire life who ever gave me the grade of F.”

“What for?” Said Hillary.

“For speaking the truth.” Susan replied. “For standing up for the helpless and underprivileged. But as far as he was concerned I was only a robot who was parroting ‘Marxist trash’ and that I should pull my head out of my ass!”

Hillary was shocked.

“He actually said that?” She asked.

“Yes.” Said Susan. “He also told me that the only way that I could undo the fail grade was to write a paper comparing the platform of our party with that of the Nazi Party.”

Eyebrows went up and jaws dropped throughout the room.

“That,” said Susan, “tells us what he really thinks of our party and progressives in general.”

Another staff member spoke up.

“How could he have been elected Governor... of Minnesota?”

“The God-squad and the other fascist filth love him.” Said Susan. “And I’m certain that he’s started his own American branch of the Urquhart Machine.”

Hillary leaned back in her chair. She was firmly convinced that the late Francis Urquhart was the initiator of the chair of events that forced her husband into a New York state mental hospital and caused her to drop her married name in order to continue her quest for the American Presidency. Nothing short of her own death would stop her from obtaining her ultimate goal. She had hoped that she would use her power as President to bring down Urquhart and his regime. Taking down Urquhart’s American nephew would be almost as satisfying.

“So.” Said Hillary. “What else do we know about him?”

Another staff member, Emily Redmond, spoke up.

“He’s hosting the Republican National Convention in Saint Paul.” She said. “And there’s rumors that some of their candidates are thinking of asking him to take the VP slot on the ticket. We’re certain that he will meet with Senator McCain after he returns from London.”

Hillary smiled.

Crushing them in the upcoming general election would just be the start. There was so much more that could be done once the Justice Department was back under her control.

It was once said that revenge was a dish that best served cold. This was sensible advice but Hillary, being a proper Democrat, would insist on ignoring it to her peril.

_

Quote of the Day

2008-04-05T00:50:00.002-05:00

"Zhodani, you person with severe oedipal issues, do you speak it?"

-- Unknown Zhodani agent. 023-1107.

__

Legacy

2008-04-04T18:12:00.003-05:00

Chapter Four

June 1994

Corder was listening through a set of headphones to the private discussion that Francis and Elizabeth had in the late hours after the funeral of Tim Stamper. After all, the Urquhart’s private residence in London as well as the Prime Minister’s official residence at 10 Downing Street were fully wired for internal surveillance.

Elizabeth was gravely concerned that her nephew would reveal the contents of the Storin Tape.

“He’s one of us, Elizabeth.” Said Francis. “There’s no question that he would betray us. He practically confessed to the murder of his own father right there in the office.”

Francis then recounted the conversation verbatim.

“But can you really be certain?” She replied. “Can we really be safe?”

“He forced the issue out of concern for his own safety.” Said Francis. “Of course it wouldn’t hurt for us to be absolutely certain.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“There are after all,” said Francis, “no shortage of minor pests on that side of the Atlantic that could be disposed of. But we’ll have Corder look into that.”

Corder grunted when he heard that through his headphones. He would of course wait to formally summoned to receive his orders before he would begin to work on the problem.

Elizabeth continued the conversation.

“Is he really serious about becoming President?”

“Well, yes.” Said Francis. “He has the right family background and there’s no question that he has the will to do it.”

Francis decided at the moment to tell his side of the story.

“Twelve years ago. Right before his father died John and I had a rather interesting talk on the telephone. It appeared that our dear brother in law Richard had decided to embark on a political career of his own and had forbidden John to enlist in the
American Army, even going as far to promise to pull strings to prevent it from happening as it would make him look bad to the leaders and the other ranks in the DFL party.”

“DFL, Francis?” Said Elizabeth.

“Democratic Farmer Labor Party of Minnesota.” Said Francis. “John says its every bit as bad as it sounds.”

Francis continued the story.

“I offered to use my influence as a junior whip to enroll John in my old regiment and he politely declined. He said that the last American President who served under the Crown was George Washington and that he didn’t believe that enlisting in the Scots
Guards was a really viable option for him.“

“Of course not.” Said Elizabeth.

Francis had to continue.

“I was aware of Richard’s bad habits but I couldn’t directly suggest that John put poison in his father’s cocaine over the telephone. So I asked John if he could find a tin of a particular kind of rat poison. He said that he would look into it. Three
days later Richard March was found dead in his office and a week later a slightly used tin of rat poison arrived at our Southampton manor by a parcel service.”

“What did you do with the rat poison?” Said Elizabeth.

“I used it on Roger O’Neill. Elizabeth.”

For Corder, the first task after receiving his orders from the Prime Minister was to perform a background check on John Andrew March. He was appalled to discover that the British security services had virtually nothing on the Prime Minister’s nephew apart from a note that John was keeping company at Oxford with Marlene Landless, an undergraduate student and the heiress of the Landless Media empire. Corder wrote a note to himself to also do a background check on Miss Landless.

There was a quick and dirty way of obtaining information on John March. Corder placed a call to the American Embassy in London. Two hours later Corder bought a pint for the FBI’s Diplomatic Liaison to the United Kingdom in a public house in Whitechapel.

The black haired Liaison Agent came straight to the point.

“So Corder,” he said, “what do you want?”

Corder thought that question was a bit abrupt but decided to play it nice.

“The P.M. wants to do a favor for his nephew, John Andrew March, he wants to arrange for someone to set up an endowed chair for John at an American university. We just need to know if there are any problems that we need to be aware of.”

“You need to see his FBI file?” Said the Liaison Agent.

“Yes.” Said Corder.

“Well, apart from being illegal,” said the Liaison Agent, “it might be a bit difficult.”

“Really?” Said Corder.

“F. U. is close to the top of the Hilary’s personal shit list.”

“I thought Bill was supposed to be in charge?” Said Corder.

“He’s the public face of the administration. He gets to make the speeches and sign the bills.” Said the Liaison Agent. ”Hillary is in charge of everything else. Nothing happens in the White House without her permission. Except of course, the trouser failures.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Said Corder.

“Believe it.” Said the Liaison Agent. “If Hillary could find a way to take down F. U., like through that nephew of his, she’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“I’ll certainly pass on your warning.” Corder said.

“Pass this on too,” said the Liaison Agent as he leaned closer to Corder, “Hillary has made no secret of her desire to take the top job in her own right. If F. U. ever decides that she needs to be taken out, don’t piss around with the indirect approach, do it directly, a wood stake straight through the heart.”

“Right.” Corder replied.
_

Legacy

2008-04-01T22:27:00.001-05:00

Chapter Three

January 2008

John's private moment of introspection was interrupted by his own Chief of Staff.

Allen Keller was a bespeckled, overweight and balding former solder who had recently refused to celebrate his own forty-seventh birthday. Even though he wore a suit and tie as his daily uniform he often gave the impression that he would be more comfortable in old camouflage trousers and a tee shirt.

As the Governor's Chief of Staff Al Keller kept a small office in the basement of the Minnesota State Capitol building. Over the course of the last year it had become known as the Dungeon. And woe betide the staff member who was summoned to it. When one of the local socialist newspapers started to call him the Dungeonmaster he simply shrugged and admitted that he still owned a complete set of rule books for the First Edition of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.

Al had two small bottles of chocolate milk with him. He handed one down to John and sat down in the adjoining seat.

"Here," Al said, "this should help you sleep."

Al opened his bottle and started chugging it down.

"You know," said John, "there are flight attendants on Air Force One."

"Some of the best in the world." Al replied. "But none of them are up to their eyebrows in your plot to dominate the world."

"I only want to be President." Said John.

Al Keller chose this moment to preach to his pope.

"The United States of America is the dominant nation on this planet. For example, nothing moves on the surface on our oceans without the permission of the United States Navy. And you know, I would like it to stay that way."

"I'm sure Senator McCain would love to hear that when I meet with him." Said John.

"Go ahead," said Al "use it."

"Thank you." John said.

Al finished his bottle of chocolate milk.

"Do you think Corder will be there?" Al had to ask.

"Of course." said John. "He and Aunt Elizabeth are practically inseparable now."

Al softly grunted. He always had the quiet suspicion that Corder wouldn't mind putting one round into Al's head in the old Soviet style.

There was a commotion at the front of the cabin, Al leaned over into the aisle to look.

"It's Dubya" Said Al, referring to President Bush. "Why the Hell does he have to come back here now?"

"He's just being a good Christian gentleman." Said John as he stood up to chat with the President.

"That," Al replied, "is a big part of our problem."

In Al Keller's view the people who led the Republican Party were simply too nice.
_

Legacy, Chapter Two

2008-03-31T09:45:00.002-05:00

June 1994

John March ignored the twitch of pain in his left arm as he down shifted on the approach to Downing Street. He really did not want to drive his own car, a Triumph TR-6, from Oxford to Westminster, not after the deaths by bombing of Tim Stamper and Sarah Harding, but certain appearances had to be maintained. Though his uncle would often offer to send a car to pick him up John preferred to drive himself around. Even if it was on the wrong side of the road.

Security around the Prime Minister's official residence had been beefed up. There was a new guy at the police checkpoint. He had never seen a Minnesota driver's license before, nor was he aware of the fact that the Prime Minister had an American nephew. A police sergeant had to come over to clear things up. As he drove away from the checkpoint John caught a glimpse in him rear view mirror of the sergeant chewing the new guy a new one.

John drove past a visibly disappointed valet to the parking area normally used by cabinet ministers and bureaucrats. He parked in the late party chairman's space. It was a bit disrespectful, but who was going to complain?

John was dressed to attend Stamper's funeral. He put on his serious academic face as he entered 10 Downing Street. Corder was waiting just inside the door.

"Commander Corder." Said John.

"Doctor March." Corder replied.

"We're... not quite there yet." Said John. "May I ask of favor of you?"

"Yes?"

"Could you see to it that no one plants a bomb in my car while I'm parked here?"

For a very brief moment Corder had the deer in the headlights look on his face, but he quickly recovered.

_Gotcha!_ John thought without changing the expression on his face.

"Yes... of course." Said Corder. "The P.M. is expecting you."

John charged up the stairs and entered the Prime Minister's office. His uncle, Francis Urquhart, also dressed to attend the funeral, had been dictating a letter to a stenographer when he entered the room.

"John!" said the Prime Minister. "It is good to see you again. Even under the circumstances."

"Yes." John replied. "It is a sad thing to lose two close friends to those barbarians."

"Of course." Said Francis. "And congratulations on being awarded your doctorate!"

"Thank you Uncle Francis." Said John."I do hope you and Aunt Elizabeth could attend the ceremony."

"We'll see." He replied. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, Uncle Francis," Said John. "There is a matter that I need to speak to you about, in private."

The Prime Minister nodded to the stenographer and sat down. The stenographer closed the door as she left the room.

"Well?" Said Francis. "What is it?"

John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tape cassette. He laid it on the Prime Minister's desk and said. "This."

On the label of the cassette was written the name, "MATTIE STORIN".

Francis Urquhart looked up at his nephew in shock.

"Tim Stamper gave it to me before he died." Said John. "He acted as if I were some sort of naive and idealistic child. As if I didn't already have blood on my own hands."

"Did you play the tape?"

"Of course I played the tape!" John replied. "That's why I brought it down here, I can't just toss it out into the trash!"

Francis looked back down at the cassette.

"No." He said. "Of course not."

John March continued to speak.

"Bringing down this government is simply not an option and if it were to get out that you put rat poison in someone's cocaine that might cause the Minneapolis Police to reopen the investigation into my father's death."

Francis looked back up at his nephew. "I thought that matter was settled?"

John chose this moment to sit down before replying.

"Certain evidence was suppressed twelve years ago because it would have been embarrassing to the local branch of the Democratic Party for it to get out that one of their biggest donors and an announced candidate for state governor was a cokehead."

Francis silently pondered for a moment.

John continued. "Of course, given what I've heard about the current administration in
Washington, being a cokehead may not be such a liability."

From some of the reports that the Prime Minister had read it would appear that the interior of the White House was a virtual snowstorm.

"There is another issue." Said John. "As you may recall I have certain long range plans. These plans do not include being blown up in my own car or being shot in the head and dumped in a vacant lot by so-called Irish terrorists."

Francis looked up with a shocked stare.

"How do I assure that this won't happen?" Said John. "Do I have to kill someone? Or should I talk to Corder about that?"

"No." Said Francis. "You shouldn't have to speak to Corder."

Francis Urquhart took this moment to lean back in his chair. He placed his elbows firmly on the armrests and clasped his hands together.

"So," he said in a voice the verged on the reptilian, "do you really believe that you can do it? Become the President of the United States?"

Very calmly, John March replied. "Yes."

"It's a long term project," he continued, "but it is doable."

Someone knocked on the door to the Prime Minister's private office. It was Corder.

"The car is ready Prime Minister." He said.

"Thank you Corder." Said the Prime Minister.

Francis Urquhart and John March both stood up.

"I have to do the eulogy for Stamper," said Urquhart.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss that for anything." replied March.
_

Legacy, Chapter One

2008-03-31T09:41:00.002-05:00

January 2008

Nothing lasts forever. Even the longest, the most glittering reign must come to an end someday.

Some people mourned the passing of British Prime Minister Sir Francis Urquhart.. Others, of a less civilized frame of mind, saw his death as a cause for celebration.

Air Force One lifted off from runway 12L of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport and turned left onto the great circle route towards London. It was the usual practice of American Presidents to fly directly to the capital of a foreign nation whenever he would attend the funeral of that nation's leader. But in this case President George W. Bush, being a good Christian gentleman, had decided to offer a lift to the sister and other American relatives of the late Prime Minister.

Mary Urquhart March was one of the small number of the sons and daughters of the British aristocratic class who continued to marry members of wealthy American families. In her case a Richard Charles March II of Minnesota.

The March family fortune began in the industries of lumber, mining, and local railroads but shifted to other endeavors over the course of time. When Mary Urquhart met and married Richard, who was named for the legendary creator of the family fortune, he was a charming gentleman who showed no hint of the character flaws that would ultimately bring about his early demise. Richard was now interred in the family crypt in Lakewood Cemetery in Minneapolis.

Mary Urquhart March had borne three children for her husband.

The first, Richard Charles March III, had upon entering the University of Minnesota immersed himself in the local drug culture and ultimately discovered Heroin. He was subsequently interred next to his father in the family crypt.

The second, Anne Elizabeth March, had left the University as a Marxist agitator and a lesbian. It was no surprise to anyone that she had joined the ruffians who celebrated her uncle's death.

The last, John Andrew March, had skipped entering the University and instead enlisted in the United States Army as an infantryman. He had night-schooled his way to Bachelor's degree and was selected for Officer Candidate School. It was after being wounded in a fratricide incident during Operation Desert Storm and receiving a medical discharge that he, with his uncle's influence as a newly minted Prime Minister, he went to Oxford to continue his postgraduate studies and earn a doctorate in history. John would use that "piled higher and deeper" degree and his subsequent writings as a ticket to a political career.

John Andrew March was now entering his second year as the Republican Governor of the State of Minnesota. Even without that he was still the dutiful son who would accompany his mother to her older brother's funeral. But John wanted to be elected to a higher office. And a photo opportunity was a photo opportunity, even if it was literally over his uncle's dead body.

John sat at a window seat on Air Force One, contemplating the path he had taken to reach this point, and the path he must follow to reach his ultimate goal.
_

Filk Me!

2008-01-09T10:25:00.000-06:00

Quote of the Day

2007-12-25T15:07:00.000-06:00

The Imperium will not be coerced. Any attempt to bend the Imperium to any will other than its own, by any means violent or non-violent, will be answered with deadly force.

-- Captain Sir John March Sterling, 1st Baron Windhaven, Imperial Navy, Retired. 110-624 (Third Imperium)

A Really Evil Idea, Updated, Reposted

2007-12-21T10:41:00.000-06:00

THIS WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED ON THE TRAVELLER MAINING LIST:

A Really Evil Idea For A Traveller Campaign

by Leslie Bates, age 42

Over 10,000 years ago, a species called the An or the Anu discovered the jump drive. Over a period of about two centuries they explored and colonized twelve uninhabited worlds in nearby systems. They also discovered and colonized the planet Earth, which they called Ki. The native intelligent species, the Humans, were genetically modified and used as laborers on Ki and on the other Anu colonies.

Then something happened. A disaster, a civil war started by a dissident faction, or an invasion by a hostile species, called the Hunters of the Dawn, destroyed the Anu civilization. On Ki, a remnant of the Anu called the Anunnaki continued to dominate the natives until about 2000 to 3000 BC.

On Suhurmash, one of the Anu colony worlds, the surviving Humans have developed a high-tech civilization. By reverse engineering Anu relics they have begun to build their own jump ships.

The player characters are the crew of the first ship to reach the planet "Ki." While attempting to land at the site of the last known Anu colony on Ki, their TL-9 ship is fired on by two F-15's of the United States Air Force. After landing and meeting the locals, the crew is brought to the local leader. (You know, the guy with the mustache.) Who will be happy to help repair the ship in exchange for help against the attackers.

The date on the local calender is March 15, 2003.

Have a nice day.

More fun:

The PC's ship is a 40 year old type unarmed M subsidized merchant operating under an academic or corporate charter, their government didn't know and certainly wouldn't have sanctioned the expedition to Earth.

Suhurmash, the PC's homeworld, was politically unified before it hit TL 4 and only has about a dozen 100 ton armed couriers for use in SAR/courier missions.

Borrowing a page from the Glen Larson SF universe construction handbook, the 12 other Anu colonies were named for the 12 signs of the zodiac, in Sumerian.

Then today I had these thoughts:

Even more fun:

Your group of PC's could be a special op's unit that breaks into what the spooks believe is a WMD facility. What you actually find is a disk shaped starship (100 to 400 d-tons) with clear signs of missile damage. The surviving guards tell you that the crew was taken away.

You now have to go out and find the crew.

Good Luck.

Since we are borrowing a page from the Glen Larson SF universe construction handbook. We are naming the 12 other Anu colonies for the 12 signs of the zodiac in Sumerian. Here is the list of names as given by Zacharia Sitchin.

Guanna = Taurus
Mashtabba = Gemini
Dub = Cancer
Urgula = Leo
Absin = Virgo
Zibaanna = Libra
Girtab = Scorpio
Pabil = Sagittarius
Suhurmash = Capricorn
Gu = Aquarius
Simmah = Pisces
Kumal = Aries

Shamelessly stealing from Glen Larson again, we note that during the destruction of the Twelve Colonies that the Capricans were the least incompetent of all the humans, therefore we shall say that a high tech human civilization arose on the Anu colony world of Suhurmash. I originally favored Procyon as the location of this world, but I'm beginning to think that Tau Ceti may be better.

The dominant power on the planet during the TL4 period was the Adaman Empire, which was named for its founder, a humble herdsman who was called upon to lead his people out of...well...you get the idea.

Through a process of warfare and dynastic marriage, the Adamans had effectively unified their world before the development of the TL 5 military technology that made the First World War on Terra such a fun time for all. It also meant that the occasional re- equipping of "The Warriors" tended to be an exercise in keeping up with the civilians. As a result, Caprican...er...Adaman ironmongery is strictly LB Book One, nothing from Mercenary or later works.

As the Adamans ranged far and wide over their world they found smashed cities and fossilized remains of Anu as well as of humans. Adamans who built telescopes would see visible ruins of domed cities on the moon of Suhurmash. Needless to say, as soon as it was possible the Adamans sent several expeditions (with essentially Soviet level technology) to explore those ruins.
In the 100th year of the Unified Empire the first explorers found well preserved (by archaeological standards) examples of Anu technology, which the Adamans proceeded to reverse engineer.

With their first starships they began to explore and colonize the systems around them. Usually they found more ruins, sometimes with primitive Humans or Anu in or near them. They also found the Anu home world. Which had taken so much damage in the final cataclysm that the atmosphere had reverted to Type A-Exotic.

In 167th year of the Unified Empire, the first Adaman ship had reached the world listed on the ancient Anu charts as "Ki." To their horror they found the major nations of Ki fighting a planetary scale war with weapons that the Adamans had never even dreamed of. (Most of the army of the starfaring Adaman Empire at the time was still using lever action black-powder rifles and muzzle loading cannon.) The Adaman government immediately interdicted Ki and began a surveillance program.

Two bases were established in the system. The primary base was on the fourth planet. The forward surveillance post was set up on the satellite of Ki, which on the ancient Anu charts was called Kingu. This post with its supporting spacecraft was called the watch unit.

In 169th year of the Unified Empire, the watch unit observed the detonation of a nuclear explosive device in the desert of the minor northern continent. Shortly thereafter two more nuclear weapons were detonated over cities in a chain of islands off the eastern coast of the main northern continent.

As the nation on the minor northern continent began further atmospheric testing of nuclear bombs, the watch unit began to carry out a more aggressive surveillance program.

In 171th year of the Unified Empire, a 20 d-ton launch crashed in the desert outside of a nuclear bomber base on the minor northern continent. The Imperial leadership basically freaked out and forbade the use of such aggressive watch tactics in the future.
It was now feared that the inhabitants of Ki would reverse engineer Adaman technology and turn their attention to the skies of their world.

In 193th year of the Unified Empire, an expedition from the minor northern continent of Ki landed on a relatively flat area of Kingu. The commander of the watch unit at the time, who was named for the founder of the Empire, made contact with the Kian astronauts and basically read them the riot act.

The Kians would be permitted to send five more expeditions to Kingu, those expeditions were forbidden to land anywhere near the forward watch unit base or any Anu ruins on Kingu. Furthermore the Kians were forbidden to send manned expeditions to any other planet of their own system. Having heard the ruling of the watch unit commander, the two Kian astronauts were permitted to return to a water landing on Ki. The junior member of the Kian landing party was later compelled to seek psychiatric help.

Much to the annoyance of the watch unit the two dominant nations on Ki proceeded to launch manned orbital stations and send robot probes to the other planets. One robot from the North-Main continent came too close to a Adaman ship near the inner moon of the fourth planet and had to be destroyed. Another robot probe entered orbit around the largest gas giant in the system and effectively prevented its use as a refueling site.

During this time there was a great amount of acrimony on Suhurmash concerning the re-equipping of the armed forces to a higher tech level. The Warrior class by this time had taken the view that warfare was essentially an exercise in studliness. Even though the conversion of the army to TL 6 self-loading rifles and general purpose machineguns, which were basically copies of Kian weaponry, had gone relatively smoothly in spite of the usual griping about ammunition wastage and girly calibers. The army had virtually blocked the adoption of such "cowardly" weapons as grenades, mortars, and indirect firing artillery.

When the high command attempted to introduce the assault rifle, even those officers who were aware of the military technology situation on Ki refused to go along with the adoption of "kiddie- caliber" guns. Basically believing that the Kian adoption of such infantry weapons was an exploitable mistake.

As for combat uniforms, the prevailing belief in the armed forces was that a warrior could not be too flashy in appearance.

The one bright spot in the military picture was that the Cavalry arm was happy to trade in their riding beasts for the newfangled fighter spacecraft. Which were basically a beefed up version of the standard pilot trainer that was fitted with a pulse laser.

In 226th year of the Unified Empire, a privately owned Adaman ship broke the interdiction and attempted to land near the site of the last known Anu colony on Ki.

I'm finished droning now.

Thought for the Day

2007-11-19T03:16:00.000-06:00

"I've run into no small number of so-called Christian pacifists during my years as a naval attache. They've invariably hit me with the verse, 'he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.' At which point I ask them, 'who's holding the other sword?' Not one of them has ever answered that question."

-- Admiral Elizabeth Weymouth. Ursa Major Confederation Navy.

_

Motivational Poster of the Day

2007-10-08T11:04:00.000-05:00

Not the Thought of the Day

2007-10-02T06:09:00.001-05:00

Marine Motivation

2007-09-10T17:00:00.001-05:00

It not an either/or proposition.

And yes, it's a bit hard on the Lefties.

(Cue diabolical laughter.)
_

This Is Motivated

2007-09-10T10:09:00.001-05:00

Even More Motivation

2007-09-06T01:29:00.000-05:00

More Motivation

2007-09-05T13:12:00.001-05:00

It's a long story.
_

More Motivation

2007-09-01T10:05:00.001-05:00

Motivational Poster

2007-08-31T02:34:00.000-05:00

Trivia

2007-08-08T23:24:00.000-05:00

The words "ULTIMA RATIO CIVITUM" is engraved on every personal weapon, crew served weapon, and on a special plate installed on all military vehicles and spacecraft of the Freyan armed forces and the armed forces of the Confederation of Ursa Major.

Yes, I know (Ayn) Rand said that a gun is not an argument two centuries ago...

My grandfather once told me that were it not for the distance and the vacuum of space (between Eos and Freya) it would have been possible to hear the Eosians sneering at us for that particular practice.

Of course that sneering ended after their world was invaded and occupied by the Neomarxists.

-- Admiral Elizabeth Weymouth, Lectures on History and Moral Philosophy.

Now some people think it is a bit silly of us to engrave a phrase in ancient Latin on our weapons, vehicles, and spacecraft.

But consider this, all of our g-carriers, tanks, and other military vehicles are designed to carried aboard standard commercial starships. The dimensions of the cargo holds are in turn determined by the dimensions of the old Terran ISO-cargo containers which are still in common use. The dimensions of the standard cargo containers were originally determined by the requirement that they be carried on a standard railroad flatcar. The dimensions of the railroad flatcar was in turn determined by width of the wheels and tracks. This standard was adopted in imitation of the standard width of carts and wagons built in the British Isles, which used wagon trails first marked out in the time of the Roman Empire. Which in turn used a standard width chosen by a wagon builder in Ancient Rome.

Now, given the influence that a unnamed Ancient Roman wheelwright had on the design and deployment of military technology in the twenty-third century, is it really that silly of us to adopt an Ancient Latin slogan for our own use?

-- Ibid.

A Message From Rob Devenport

2007-08-06T00:16:00.000-05:00

Hello,

Yes, the TML and all of TravellerCentral.com are down. I'm using an
old subscriber list to notify everyone, so if you've unsubscribed in
the last several months, I apologize for sending this to you. And if
I've missed anyone that you know of, please let them know the status.

A couple days ago, a cracker penetrated the TravellerCentral.com
server and deleted all files, possibly in retaliation for Tod stopping
an attack a month ago where someone tried to usurp the server and set
up their own rogue mail server. The recent backups are lost (and Tod
had been within a week of putting a new backup system online too).
He's going to go back to an older backup and rebuild the system (with
tightened security measures).

Since he doesn't believe the attacker overwrote files but just mucked
up the inodes, he's hopeful that much of the user data can be
recovered - it will just take a good deal of time.
The plan is to get the server and basic services (mail server) back up
as soon as practical, I think maybe within a few days, then get user's
data back if possible, which may take a few weeks.

I'll send more details as they become available, or if you have
questions, let me know. With luck you won't hear from me, but from the
list when it's up again.

And as for that cracker miscreant, I just hope they get within range
of my FGMP...

Rob Davenport
TML listmom2
_

Quote of the Day

2007-08-04T12:08:00.000-05:00

More intellectual background stuff.

As a rule when all other factors are equal it is the numerically larger military unit that will prevail. Therefore it is the task of those who raise, train, and deploy the armed forces of a nation to see to it that all other factors are never equal.

-- E.N. Keller, The Concept of War

Quote of the Day

2007-08-02T07:28:00.000-05:00

In literature and cinema there is a concept, the idiot plot, a scenario that only occurs because one or more characters behaved like idiots.

Of all the worlds of the Human Union one world had the industrial might, and thus the potential to create military power, to stop the Freyani.

March¹, the oldest and most populous of the Human colonies, the capital of Humanity in the post-Yellowstone² era, did nothing.

Nothing was done when the Freyani secretly build a navy and cut loose from Humanity.

Nothing was done when the Freyani and their Objectivist allies hunted down and murdered the Progressive activists and the Gordonian³ warriors who liberated the planets Konkin and Eos from capitalist oppression.⁴

Nothing was done when the Freyani sent the fleet carrier Victorious across Human Union space -- unimpeded -- to commit the Gordonian Holocaust.⁵

Nothing was done when the Freyani mercilessly crushed the Republic of Aurore.

When Oliver Richard Kaiser, and the last and greatest leader of Humanity, tried to rouse the people to resist the Freyani, it was too late.

Because the leaders of the planet March and Humanity in General refused to act a new dark age has descended upon us as we now live under the grinding oppression of the Freyan Empire.⁶

-- Anthony Ellsworth, The Empire of Greed

Sounds like the fellow is a bit biased...

1. Alpha Centauri A-Three. Named for President John March, the successor to President Dick Cheney and founder of the Omaha Pact.

2. Extinction event. The super volcano in Yellowstone National Park erupted on September 4, 2182, burying most of North America in ash, and effectively terminating agriculture on the planet for at least five years. Roughly 99 percent of the Human Race died in the subsequent disorders.

3. A morally darker version of the Dorsai.

4. Needless to say the folks on Eos and Schwartz (the renamed planet Konkin) have a different view of the relevant events.

In the decades following the Yellowstone Event a practice had evolved where if a resource extraction firm could not obtain a sufficiently favorable deal from a local government they would invent a "liberation front" -- usually a handful of crackpots in the back room of a leather bar -- and hire a Gordonian military contractor to put the liberation front into power.

Armand Marteau, the owner of Spinward Mining, wanted control of lanthanum deposits on Eos, a planet settled by descendants of the Peikoff Faction of the Objectivist Movement. Because his agents could not create a front on Eos, they instead created one on the planet Konkin, a Libertarian Anarchist colony named after Libertarian Anarchist author Samuel Edward Konkin III. The new "sovereign" state then staged a "liberation" of Eos.

The first Freya Pact, an alliance of three worlds -- Freya, Galtswelt, and New Texas -- carried out the liberation of Eos. The red stooges were hunted down and given no quarter. On the other hand the Gordonian mercenaries immediately surrendered and attempted to redeem their repatriation bonds.

The Interim Committee that governed Eos refused to the honor the bonds. In their view the mercenaries were not soldiers of a legitimate state but were instead paid members of a homicidal conspiracy. In other words, they were willing capital criminals.

The ground troops from Freya and Galtswelt carried out the order to execute the mercenaries. The contingent from New Texas refused to carry out the execution of mercenaries in their custody. The New Texas forces and their prisoners were then ordered off the planet Eos. Thus breaking the first Freya Pact.

To this day the Eosians see the government of New Texas as accessories after the fact of the mass murder of Eosian citizens.

The remnant of the pact forces went on to liberate the planet Konkin.

5. The Gordonian private military contractors and their corporate sponsors carried out a vendetta against Eos and the remaining members of the first Freya Pact through legal and other means.

It was after the judicially staged murder of two members of the Eos Interim Committee, who were on a diplomatic mission to March, that drastic action was taken.

A chain of fuel caches was secretly created which allowed a task force centered on the newly built light fleet carrier Victorious to make on unimpeded transit to Gordonia and carry out a high yield nuclear bombardment of the planet's industrial and population centers.

This effectively terminated the vendetta.

6. Riiiiigt. The Society of Consent is sooooo oppressive to some people...
_

UMCS VALLEY FORGE

2007-07-30T18:55:00.000-05:00

Yes, I've seen the film SILENT RUNNING... No, we don't allow lunatic greenies aboard our ships.

-- Commodore John Weymouth, Commander of Valley Forge Task Force.

Although the Poor Richard class escort carrier could do a fairly good job of supporting their big sisters, the Victorious class light fleet carriers, they still had the tactical disadvantage of being two-gee ships in an otherwise four-gee fleet. The Navy Department decided to replace the Poor Richard with a vessel that could carry the same fighter-group and accelerate at four gees in a thousand displacement-ton hull. Thus was born the Valley Forge class support carrier.

A dispute arose within the Navy Department and the Confederation Senate over the number of Valley Forge support carriers (which some wags referred to as an ultra-light carrier) that were to be built. Four or six? A compromise was eventually reached where the navy would build eight support carriers.

Part of the reason for building eight support carriers was the reorganization of the Main Force or Battle fleets.

The Main Force of the Ursa Major Confederation Navy was originally divided into three battle fleets: The Coreward Fleet based at Eos; The Central Fleet based at Galtswelt; And the Rimward Fleet based at Freya. Each battle fleet was originally centered on a Victorious class light fleet carrier and its group of escorts.

Under the reorganization, the Rimward Fleet at Freya which was closest to the most likely potential belligerent, the Auroran Empire, would have two Victorious class and two Valley Forge class carriers. The Coreward Fleet at Eos, facing the potentially hostile Republic of New Texas, would get one Victorious class and two Valley Forge class carriers. The Central Fleet at Galtswelt would receive the four remaining Valley Forge class carriers. The old Poor Richard class escort carriers would be independently based, one at Freya, two at Galtswelt, and one at Eos, in support of convoy escort or Marine landing forces as required.

Valley Forge-Class Support Carrier

Ship: Valley Forge
Class: Valley Forge
Type: Support Carrier
Architect: UMCN Bureau of Ships
Tech Level: 11

USP
CVS-A7244E2-050000-30000-0 MCr 717.593 1 KTons
Bat Bear 4 2 Crew: 60
Bat 4 2 TL: 11

Cargo: 28, Fuel: 270, EP: 40, Agility: 3
Craft: 1 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Fuel Module, 8 x 15T Kurnass Fighter-Interceptor, 12 x 6T Dagger Attack Fighter
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 6.856 Cost in Quantity: MCr 580.474

Detailed Description

HULL: 1,000 tons standard, 14,000 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Navigator, 8 Engineers, Medic, 6 Gunners, 29 Flight Crew, 14 Other Crew
ENGINEERING: Jump-2, 4G Manuever, Power plant-4, 40 EP, Agility 3
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/5fib Computer
ARMAMENT: 2 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 2 Batteries (Factor-3)
DEFENCES: 8 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 4 Batteries (Factor-5)
CRAFT: 50 ton Modular Cutter (Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 30 ton Fuel Module (Cost of MCr 2), 8 x 15 ton Kurnass Fighter-Interceptors (Crew of 2, Sold Separately), 12 x 6 ton Dagger Attack Fighters (Crew of 1, Sold Separately)
FUEL: 270 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 30 tons of additional fuel), No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 30 Staterooms, 28 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 692.448 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 6.856), MCr 548.474 in Quantity, plus MCr 32.000 of Carried Support Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 120 Weeks Singly, 96 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: The Valley Forge class support carrier (sometimes called an ultra-light carrier) was constructed to replace the Poor Richard class escort carrier in the role of supporting main fleet operations. There is additional accomodation for a task force commander and 13 support staff

A total of eight units were constructed. Valley Forge, Ticonderoga, Cowpens, and Bunker Hill were built at Galtswelt. Waterloo, Blenheim, Salamanca, and Agincourt were built at Freya.
_

UMCS BONHOMME POOR RICHARD

2007-07-25T17:09:00.000-05:00

Poor Richard-Class Escort Carrier

Ship: Poor Richard
Class: Poor Richard
Type: Escort Carrier
Architect: Galtswelt Shipbulding
Tech Level: 11

CVE-6722222-050000-30000-0 MCr 293.268 600 Tons
Bat Bear 2 2 Crew: 35
Bat 2 2 TL: 11

Cargo: 11, Fuel: 158, EP: 12, Agility: 1
Craft: 50T Modular Cutter, 30T Fuel Module, 6 x 15T Kurnass Fighter-Interceptor, 12 x 6T Dagger Attack Fighter
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 2.613 Cost in Quantity: MCr 241.014

Detailed Description

HULL: 600 tons standard, 8,400 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Navigator, 3 Engineers, Medic, 4 Gunners, 25 Flight Crew
ENGINEERING: Jump-2, 2G Manuever, Power plant-2, 12 EP, Agility 1
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 2 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 2 Batteries (Factor-3)
DEFENCES: 4 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 2 Batteries (Factor-5)
CRAFT: 50 ton Modular Cutter (Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 30 ton Fuel Module (MCr 2.000), 6 x 15 ton Kurnass Fighter-Interceptors (Crew of 2, Sold Separately), 12 x 6 ton Dagger Attack Fighters (Crew of 1, Sold Separately)
FUEL: 158 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 26 tons of additional fuel), No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 17.5 Staterooms, 11 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 263.881 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 2.613), MCr 209.014 in Quantity, plus MCr 32.000 of Carried Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 99 Weeks Singly, 79 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: Even with the construction of the Victorious class fleet carriers there was still a perceived need in the UMCN for ships to replace the ageing and less than ideal units of the Ranger class in the escort carrier role.

All four units of the Poor Richard class ("Bonhomme" was considered to be a bit too Froggish) were built at Galtswelt and were named for old American or British aircraft carriers.

The four units of the class were:

Poor Richard
Warrior
Enterprise
Hornet

UMCS VICTORIOUS

2007-07-25T00:49:00.000-05:00

Victorious-Class Light Fleet Carrier

Ship: Victorious
Class: Victorious
Type: Light Fleet Carrier
Architect: Freyaspace Corporation
Tech Level: 11

USP
CVL-B7244E3-050000-32000-0 MCr 1,655.287 2.4 KTons
Bat Bear 8 62 Crew: 175
Bat 8 62 TL: 11

Cargo: 47, Fuel: 676, EP: 96, Agility: 3 Shipboard Security Detail: 2
Craft: 3 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T General Purpose Module, 15 x 15T Kurnass Fighter-Interceptor, 30 x 6T Dagger Attack Fighter
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 15.633 Cost in Quantity: MCr 1,342.629

Detailed Description

HULL: 2,400 tons standard, 33,600 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: 12 Officers, 163 Ratings
ENGINEERING: Jump-2, 4G Manuever, Power plant-4, 96 EP, Agility 3
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/5fib Computer
ARMAMENT: 6 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 6 Batteries (Factor-3), 2 Single Plasma Gun Turrets organised into 2 Batteries (Factor-2)
DEFENCES: 16 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 8 Batteries (Factor-5)
CRAFT: 3 x 50 ton Modular Cutters with Fuel Modules(Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 30 ton General Purpose Module (Cost of MCr 2), 15 x 15 ton Kurnass Fighter-Interceptors (Crew of 2, Sold Separately), 30 x 6 ton Dagger Attack Fighters (Crew of 1, Sold Separately)
FUEL: 676 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 100 tons of additional fuel), No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 90 Staterooms, 47 Tons Cargo (Includes 20 additional berths for the Task Force commander and staff.)
COST: MCr 1,578.919 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 15.633), MCr 1,250.629 in Quantity, plus MCr 92 of Carried Support Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 135 Weeks Singly, 108 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: The Victorious class light fleet carrier was the first effort by the navy of the newly formed Confederation of Ursa Major (a.k.a the Freya Pact) to build a true multi-role carrier that could keep up with its own escorts.

There were some critics who believed that the embarked fighter group of 45 fighters was too small to be truly effective. This lead to calls to build a larger ship that could carry 75 fighters in three "full" squadrons, or to trade off maneuver drive and power plant capacity in order to carry a larger force.

The problem with building a larger ship was that the existing design for the Victorious class had already come close to the upper allowable size, -- fifty-percent of shipyard capacity -- for construction in the yards on Freya and Galtswelt at that time in the early years of the Confederation. The navy, especially its Freyani cadre, also had extensive experiece with the slow merchant vessels that had been converted to "escort" carriers and had strongly objected to building any new ships that were slower than the escorting frigates and destroyers. This objection was reinforced by the inclusion of twenty additional personnel berths on board in order to allow Victorious class ships to used as the flagships of the carrier task forces.

Of the three units of the class, Victorious and Intrepid were built at Freya, and Glorious was built at Galtswelt.
_

Before And After

2007-07-24T20:30:00.000-05:00

Starjammer Procyon-Class Bulk Cargo Carrier

Ship: Starjammer Procyon
Class: Starjammer Procyon
Type: Bulk Cargo Carrier
Architect: Eurospace
Tech Level: 11

USP
MH-A711121-000000-00000-0 MCr 306.099 1 KTons
Bat Bear Crew: 7
Bat TL: 11

Cargo: 540, Passengers: 8, Fuel: 212, EP: 10, Agility: 1
Craft:, 1 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Fuel Module
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 2.741 Cost in Quantity: MCr 251.279

Detailed Description

HULL: 1,000 tons standard, 14,000 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Navigator, 2 Engineers, Steward, Medic, 1 Flight Crew
ENGINEERING: Jump-1, 1G Manuever, Power plant-1, 10 EP, Agility 1
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: None
CRAFT: 1 x 50 ton Modular Cutter (Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30.000), 1 x 30 ton Fuel Module (Cost of MCr 2.000)
FUEL: 212 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 2 tons of additional fuel), No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 15.0 Staterooms, 16 Low Berths, 8 High Passengers, 540 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 276.840 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 2.741), MCr 219.279 in Quantity, plus MCr 32.000 of Carried Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 120 Weeks Singly, 96 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: The Starjammer Procyon was designed and constructed by Eurospace Industries as a replacement for the Procyon Conveyer class bulk cargo carrier.

Ranger-Class Escort Carrier

Ship: Ranger (ex-Freyaspace Starjammer Dubhe)
Class: Ranger
Type: Escort Carrier
Architect: Eurospace Industries - Converted by the Freyaspace Yards on Freya
Tech Level: 11

USP
CVE-A711122-050000-40000-0 MCr 325.965 1 KTons
Bat Bear 4 1 Crew: 67
Bat 4 1 TL: 11

Cargo: 24, Fuel: 270, EP: 10, Agility: 0
Craft: 1 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Fuel Module, 14 x 15T Kurnass Fighter-Interceptor, 28 x 6T Dagger Attack Fighter
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 2.940 Cost in Quantity: MCr 267.172

Detailed Description

HULL: 1,000 tons standard, 14,000 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Navigator, 2 Engineers, Medic, 5 Gunners, 57 Flight Crew
ENGINEERING: Jump-1, 1G Manuever, Power plant-1, 10 EP, Agility 0
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 2 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 1 Battery (Factor-4)
DEFENCES: 8 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 4 Batteries (Factor-5)
CRAFT: , 50 ton Modular Cutter Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 30 ton Fuel Module (Cost of MCr 2), 14 x 15 ton Kurnass Fighter-Interceptors (Crew of 2, Sold Separately), 28 x 6 ton Dagger Attack Fighters (Crew of 1, Sold Separately)
FUEL: 270 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 60 tons of additional fuel), No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 34 Staterooms, 24 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 296.904 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 2.940), MCr 235.172 in Quantity, plus MCr 32.000 of Carried Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 120 Weeks Singly, 96 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: The Starjammer Procyon was designed and constructed by Eurospace Industries as a replacement for the Procyon Conveyer class bulk cargo carrier.

The Starjammer Dubhe and the Starjammer Alkaid were the only two members of the class owned by Freyaspace. both ships were turned over to the Freyan Navy for conversion to escort carriers and were renamed FNS Ranger and FNS Goddard.

Both ships participated in the campaign to liberate the planets Eos and Konkin.

Two More Ships

2007-07-24T16:52:00.000-05:00

Procyon Lifter-class bulk carrier

Ship: Procyon Lifter
Class: Procyon Lifter
Type: Bulk Carrier
Architect: Eurospace Industries
Tech Level: 11

USP
MH-B721232-000000-00000-0 MCr 868.838 2 KTons
Bat Bear Crew: 26
Bat TL: 11

Cargo: 1,000, Passengers: 8, Fuel: 450, EP: 40, Agility: 1 Shipboard Security Detail: 2
Craft: 2 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Basic Module
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 8.068 Cost in Quantity: MCr 707.470

Detailed Description

HULL: 2,000 tons standard, 28,000 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: 10 Officers, 16 Ratings
ENGINEERING: Jump-2, 1G Manuever, Power plant-2, 40 EP, Agility 1
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/3 Computer
ARMAMENT: None
CRAFT: 2 x 50 ton Modular Cutters (Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 1 x 30 ton Basic Module (Cost of MCr 2.000)
FUEL: 450 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 10 tons of additional fuel) No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 34 Staterooms, 10 Low Berths, 8 High Passengers, 1,000 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 814.906 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 8.068), MCr 645.470 in Quantity, plus MCr 62 of Carried Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 132 Weeks Singly, 106 Weeks in Quantity
COMMENTS: Jump-2 commercial bulk cargo carrier.

Merak-Class Missile Boat Carrier

Ship: Merak (ex-Freyaspace Merak Lifter)
Class: Merak
Type: Missile Boat Carrier
Architect: Built by Eurospace Industries/ Rebuilt by Freyaspace Yards on Freya
Tech Level: 11

USP
AVB-B721232-090000-40000-0 MCr 907.243 2 KTons
Bat Bear 1 5 Crew: 65
Bat 1 5 TL: 11

Cargo: 10, Fuel: 470, EP: 40, Agility: 0, Shipboard Security Detail: 2
Craft: 2 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Basic Module, 2 x 400T Missile Boat, 10 x 15T Kurnass Fighter-Interceptor
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 8.452 Cost in Quantity: MCr 738.194

Detailed Description

HULL: 2,000 tons standard, 28,000 cubic meters, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: 11 Officers, 54 Ratings
ENGINEERING: Jump-2, 1G Manuever, Power plant-2, 40 EP, Agility 0
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/3 Computer
ARMAMENT: 10 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 5 Batteries (Factor-4)
DEFENCES: 10 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 1 Battery (Factor-9)
CRAFT: 2 x 50 ton Modular Cutters (Crew of 1, Cost of MCr 30), 1 x 30 ton Basic Module (Cost of MCr 2.000), 2 x 400 ton Missile Boats (Crew Embarked On Boats, Sold Separately), 10 x 15 ton Kurnass Fighter-Interceptors (Crew of 2, Sold Separately)
FUEL: 470 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 28 days endurance, plus 30 tons of additional fuel) No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 30 Staterooms, 10 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 853.695 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 8.452), MCr 676.194 in Quantity, plus MCr 62 of Carried Support Craft
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 132 Weeks Singly, 106 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: A Terran built Jump-2 bulk carrier which was converted by the Freyan Navy to carry two of its standard 400-dton missile boats and ten of its 15-dton Kurnass class fighter-interceptors for self defense.

Merak Lifter, Alioth Lifter, and Mizar Lifter were part of a group of seven ships named for the stars of the Big Dipper owned by Freyaspace Lines. Four of the ships were seized by the Terran authorities for use in the "Great Evacuation" from Earth of politicians and other important or needed people after the eruption of the Yellowstone Supervolcano. The other three ships sucessfully returned to Freya and were transferred to the newly formed Freyan Navy for conversion to missile boat carriers.

After conversion the ships were renamed FNS Merak, FNS Alioth, and FNS Mizar. All three ships and their boats and fighters took part in the campaign to liberate the planets Eos and Konkin from Neomarxist control.

_

Not Quite A Repost

2007-07-24T10:30:00.000-05:00

Dagger-Class Attack Fighter

Ship: FA-6 Dagger
Class: FA-6 Dagger
Type: Attack Fighter
Architect: Freyaspace Corporation
Tech Level: 9

USP
FA-0106611-000000-00002-0 MCr 15.745 6 Tons
Bat Bear 1 Crew: 1
Bat 1 TL: 9

Cargo: 0.040, Fuel: 0.360, EP: 0.360, Agility: 6
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops
Architects Fee: MCr 0.157 Cost in Quantity: MCr 12.596

Detailed Description

HULL: 6 tons standard, 84 cubic meters, Needle/Wedge Configuration
CREW: Pilot
ENGINEERING: 6G Manuever, Power plant-6, 0.360 EP, Agility 6
AVIONICS: No Bridge Installed, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 1 Triple Missile Turret organised into 1 Battery (Factor-2)
FUEL: 0.360 Tons Fuel (28 days endurance), On Board Fuel Scoops, No Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 1 Acceleration Couch, 0.040 Ton Cargo
COST: MCr 15.902 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.157), MCr 12.596 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 2 Weeks Singly, 2 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: A very light weight missile armed fighter simular to the EADS F-9 Gnat. Some critics go as far as to accuse the Freyani of ripping off the basic design of the Gnat for their own use.

The Dagger is carried as the primary anti-ship and ground support fighter aboard the fleet and assault carriers of the Confederation of Ursa Major (Freya Pact) Navy.
_

Usually A Nice Thing To Have In Your Sky.

2007-07-24T09:15:00.000-05:00

Kurnass-Class Fighter-Interceptor

Ship: FI-15 Kurnass
Class: FI-15 Kurnass
Type: Fighter Interceptor
Architect: Freyaspace Corporation
Tech Level: 9

USP
FI-0106D11-000000-10001-0 MCr 31.425 15 Tons
Bat Bear 1 1 Crew: 2
Bat 1 1 TL: 9

Cargo: 0.650, Fuel: 1.950, EP: 1.950, Agility: 6, Pulse Lasers
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops

Architects Fee: MCr 0.314 Cost in Quantity: MCr 25.140

Detailed Description

HULL: 15 tons standard, 210 cubic meters, Needle/Wedge Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Gunner
ENGINEERING: 6G Manuever, Power plant-13, 1.950 EP, Agility 6
AVIONICS: No Bridge Installed, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 1 Pulse Laser (Factor-1), 1 Missile Rack (Factor-1).
FUEL: 1.950 Tons Fuel (28 days endurance), On Board Fuel Scoops, No Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 2 Acceleration Couches, 0.650 Ton Cargo
COST: MCr 31.739 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.314), MCr 25.140 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 8 Weeks Singly, 7 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: Freyani heavy fighter interceptor. Originally developed by the Freyaspace Corporation as a planetary defense fighter-interceptor under the designation of Project J-15 (Jäger, 15 tons). The Kurnass was deployed as the primary heavy fighter aboard fleet carriers of the Confederation of Ursa Major (Freya Pact) Navy and as a planetary defense interceptor for all member worlds of the Confederation. The Kurnass saw action in all three of the space battles over Freya.

The latest version in service is built to the Tech Level 11 standard.

A slightly lighter laser-only version was built as a prototype, but was rejected for service.

Kurnass (Hammer) was the Israeli designation of the McDonnell Douglas F-4E fighter-bomber in Israeli service.
_

Something You Don't Want To See In Your Sky.

2007-07-24T00:52:00.001-05:00

Viking-Class Assault Shuttle

Ship: Viking
Class: Viking
Type: Landing Craft Assault (LCA)
Architect: Freyaspace Corporation
Tech Level: 10

USP
LCA-0104421-000000-30000-0 MCr 63.650 95 Tons
Bat Bear 1 Crew: 2
Bat 1 TL: 10

Cargo: 0.350, Fuel: 3.8, EP: 3.8 Agility: 0
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops

Architects Fee: MCr 0.637 Cost in Quantity: MCr 50.920

Detailed Description

HULL: 95 tons standard, 1,330 cubic meters, Needle/Wedge Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Gunner
ENGINEERING: Jump-0, 4G Maneuver, Power plant-4, 3.8 EP, Agility 0
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 1 Triple Beam Laser Turret organized into 1 Battery (Factor-3)
FUEL: 3.8 Tons Fuel (28 days endurance), On Board Fuel Scoops, No Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 16 Acceleration Couches, 0.350 Ton Cargo
USER DEFINED COMPONENTS: 1 Assault Module (40 tons, Sold Separately)
COST: MCr 64.287 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.637), MCr 50.920 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 37 Weeks Singly, 29 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS:

A rapid interface craft designed for use by the Marine Corps and Navy of the Confederation of Ursa Major (a.k.a. the Freya Pact).

The Viking-class assault shuttle (LCA) carries a 40-dton rapid deployment module (RDM) in its cargo hold which carries a "stick" of four standard (8-ton) G-Carriers or similar sized military grav-vehicles. The dorsal cargo compartment hatch opens to release the stick of G-Carriers. The RDM is often dropped in space for later recovery while the Viking picks up the next RDM for the next wave of the planetary assault.

The Viking may also carry a 40-dton bulk cargo module or a combination of standard military shipping containers up to 40-dtons which may be loaded through the rear cargo hatch.

The military standard bulk cargo module is a 40-dton pressurized box which is manufactured in quantity for the Freyani armed forces for MCr 1.6 each. The standard Freyani military 5 and 10 ton shipping containers are also designed to fit together in the place of the bulk cargo module. One of the odd consequences of this is that Freyani merchant vessels are now designed to carry the Freyani military standard shipping containers, much to the annoyance of non-Freyani port masters and ground crews.

A 40-dton fuel tank container for refueling operations by the Viking is also available for MCr 0.4 each.

Postscriptual Comment

Actually, it would have made more sense to bundle together a bunch of standard cargo containers to form a 40-dton block and then design the G-Carriers so that 4 of them could fit inside the block with enough room for tactical embarkation and deployment.

Perhaps the Freyani aren't always right...
_

An Intellectual Foundation

2007-07-20T08:56:00.000-05:00

Many of the colonies that were settled in the Private Universe Mark II were established by philosophical groups seeking to follow their own distinct way of life.

The planet Freya in the 10 Ursae Majoris system was discovered and settled by members of a group called the Wayfarer Society. The Wayfarers followed an ethical and political philosophy laid out in The Way Of Being and other works by American author Evelyn Keller.

Keller, who was heavily influenced the the works of Ayn Rand and Robert A. Heinlein, was originally a blogger who gained an audience in the political chaos after the events of September 4, 2008 and the civil and global wars that followed.

During his lifetime Keller wrote extensively on many topics.

The words liberty, security, and order are in a civilized society simply three ways to describe the same condition, a state where the ordinary individual is free to live his own life in accordance to his best rational judgment.

-- On Government

Democracy doesn't work if everyone else wants a piece of you.

-- Ibid

It really helps when the enemy is being stupid.

-- The Concept Of War

The term "creative nonviolence" is a typical example of the abuse of language that is normally practiced by the parasite mentality. In reality it is a form of coercion. It is in practical effect a mode of combat.

-- Moral Decisions In Warfare

And so on...
_

Quote of the Day

2007-07-12T08:48:00.000-05:00

One thing that we've noticed is that in most cases the politicians who are dumb enough to pick a fight with us are also dumb enough to systematically oppress the most rational and productive part of their own planetary population. This allows us to carry out an operation in the Liberation Paradigm and adding that world to the Pact, instead of merely carrying out a reprisal in the "bomb them back into the stone age" mode.

-- Admiral Elizabeth Weymouth, Combined Fleet of the Freya Pact.

Another Ship

2007-07-08T11:17:00.000-05:00

People's Navy Ship Ward Churchill

Ship: Ward Churchill
Class: Procyon Conveyor
Type: Escort Carrier
Architect: Eurospace Industries
Tech Level: 10

CVE-A711122-050000-40000-2 MCr 326.934 1 KTons
Bat Bear 4 1 Crew: 71
Bat 4 1 TL: 10

Cargo: 20 Fuel: 344 EP: 10 Agility: 0
Craft: 60 x 6T Fighter, 1 x 50T Modular Cutter, 1 x 30T Fuel
Module
Fuel Treatment: On Board Fuel Purification
Architects Fee: MCr 2.949 Cost in Quantity: MCr 267.947

Detailed Description

HULL: 1,000 tons standard, Dispersed Structure Configuration
CREW: Pilot, Navigator, 2 Engineers, Medic, 5 Gunners, 61 Flight
Crew
ENGINEERING: Jump-1, 1G Manuever, Power plant-1, 10 EP, Agility 0
AVIONICS: Bridge, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 2 Triple Beam Laser Turrets organised into 1 Battery
(Factor-4)
DEFENCES: 8 Triple Sandcaster Turrets organised into 4 Batteries
(Factor-5)
CRAFT: 60 x 6 ton Fighters (Crew of 1, Cost not accounted for in
this design), 1 x 50 ton Modular Cutter (Crew of 1, MCr 30), 1 x
30 ton Fuel Module (MCr 2.000)
FUEL: 292 Tons Fuel (2 parsecs jump and 56 days endurance, plus
62 tons of additional fuel) No Fuel Scoops, On Board Fuel
Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 36 Staterooms, 20 Tons Cargo
COST: MCr 297.883 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 2.949),
MCr 235.947 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 120 Weeks Singly, 96 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: The PNS Ward Churchill was originally constructed by Eurospace Industries as a Procyon Conveyor class bulk cargo carrier, the Cygnus Conveyor.

In the chaos following the Yellowstone Extinction Event on Earth the Cygnus Conveyor was taken over by the authorities on Aurore and converted to an interim fighter carrier, the Aurore. After the completion of Auroran navy's first purpose built fleet carrier, the Emperor Napoleon I, the Aurore was declared surplus and put up for sale. "Somehow" the Aurore ended up in the hands of the People's Democratic State of Konkin under the new designation of PNS Ward Churchill. Named after a famous socialist academic who was executed in the early days of the Omaha Pact.

The PNS Ward Churchill was used in the invasion of the Objectivist colony world of Eos. It was destroyed off of Eos by a Freyani Stormbringer class missile boat, the Vassar's Bane.

Ship: F-9
Class: F-9
Type: Fighter
Architect: European Aerospace Defence Systems
Tech Level: 9

F-0106611-000000-00002-0 MCr 15.745 6 Tons
Bat Bear 1 Crew: 1
Bat 1 TL: 9

Fuel: 0.360 EP: 0.360 Agility: 6
Fuel Treatment: Fuel Scoops
Architects Fee: MCr 0.157 Cost in Quantity: MCr 12.596

Detailed Description

HULL: 6 tons standard, 84 cubic meters, Needle/Wedge
Configuration
CREW: Pilot
ENGINEERING: Jump-0, 6G Manuever, Power plant-6, 0.360 EP,
Agility 6
AVIONICS: No Bridge Installed, Model/2 Computer
ARMAMENT: 1 Triple Missile Turret organised into 1 Battery
(Factor-2)
FUEL: 0.360 Tons Fuel (28 days endurance)
On Board Fuel Scoops, No Fuel Purification Plant
MISCELLANEOUS: 1 Acceleration Couch, 0.040 Ton Cargo
COST: MCr 15.902 Singly (incl. Architects fees of MCr 0.157), MCr
12.596 in Quantity
CONSTRUCTION TIME: 2 Weeks Singly, 2 Weeks in Quantity

COMMENTS: A basic fighter that was designed for construction and maintenance in colonial facilities.

_

Quote of the Day

2007-07-03T09:46:00.000-05:00

If anything the forces of the Freya Pact have proven one thing, you don't find atheists in foxholes, you find them in orbit bombing your home planet back into the stone age.

-- Former Captain George Dubya Smith, Republic of New Texas Navy.

And Now...

2007-06-11T21:59:00.000-05:00

An addition to the Traveller Imperial Tarot deck:

Basically, I fiddled around with Photoshop to make this card.
_

This Is Interesting

2007-06-09T02:48:00.000-05:00

Monty Python Day at Doune Castle. One of the primary locations for the filming of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

It's a special event with only 500 (not three) tickets available.

Apparently it also features an appearance by the Spanish Inquisition. (And don't tell me you didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition.)
_

Behold!

2007-05-22T23:12:00.000-05:00

The cutting edge in Soviet transportation technology!

From the 1930's...

_

Thought for the Day

2007-05-11T22:39:00.000-05:00

Never piss off someone who buys rocket fuel by the teraton.

This message is brought to you by Imperial Navy Intelligence - Section Six. "We don't exist."
_

And Now For Something Completely Different

2007-05-07T20:31:00.000-05:00

A theme song for Uncle Dennie:

If you don't know who Uncle Denny is he's the fellow with the cap here:

Or you can read about him in Friends In High Places.

_

An Idea

2007-04-30T20:09:00.000-05:00

So over the weekend I started to think about writing another script. I haven't even finished the first script and already I'm thinking of starting another.

It would be an organized crime thing set in present day Minneapolis under the working title of MURDERAPOLIS.

While in the process of disposing of two bodies (I'm thinking dumping them in Lake Superior here) the local boss says, "if the mayor knew what the real murder rate was he would shit like a dead man."

I think I have a cool idea for the ending too.
_

So Anyway

2007-04-16T20:38:00.000-05:00

I had a bit of a bitch of a time trying to get past the new Google Login-Mode for Blogger.

It sucked.
_

A Personal Vision

2007-03-24T11:07:00.000-05:00

I'm also going to use this blog to write about my cinematic project. A film set in the Official Traveller Universe which presently has the working title of THE BOUNDARY.

This scene does not exist, it is a conceptual drawing.

At the moment the screenplay is at 56 pages. I had originally set a goal of 90 pages but the way things were going with the script it would appear that 100 to 110 pages is a more reasonable objective. I'm also thinking of going back and rewriting some of the villain's scenes in order to illuminate his background and goals.

_

Groan!

2007-02-20T18:25:00.000-06:00

Mr. Welch continues to add to his list of things he cannot do during a role playing game:

975. There is something wrong with a 2nd level Kamikaze.

Yes. I can see the problem with that.
_

Quote of the Day

2007-02-11T04:34:00.000-06:00

The stolen plans were not found aboard the ship, but I believe they may have been smuggled in the company of droids down to the surface below. I have no explanation for the sudden and acute idiocy of the officer who let the escape pod go, but I have confidence that his sudden and acute death has inspired a new level of diligence on the part of his colleagues.

-- Darth Vader, Sith Lord.

I'm Who?

2007-02-07T08:28:00.000-06:00

I am:

Robert A. Heinlein

Beginning with technological action stories and progressing to epics with religious overtones, this take-no-prisoners writer racked up some huge sales numbers.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Gosh, what a surprise.
_

Need to do more on this blog.

2007-01-30T09:06:00.000-06:00

This week I had a nightmare that I was kidnapped by a group led by someone claiming to be L. Ron Hubbard. But he didn't sound like LRH.
_

Some More Things One Must or Must Not Do During Role Playing Games

2006-12-18T21:55:00.000-06:00

Thus sayeth Mr. Welch:

851. When plumbing the depths of depravity, I must remember to come up for air.

856. A funeral is not a proper place for setting new fashion trends.

860. Under religion I cannot put Born Again Klingon.

861. I will not use undocumented zombie workers to help build my castle.

865. I do not put the cad in decadent, nor the rave in depraved.

867. We all play bards just to relive our favorite Spinal Tap moments.

868. I cannot have a gun with an area of affect larger than it's range.

872. Any gun that sets off the metal detector before I even pass through it is vetoed.

Um. Okay.
_

These Dreams

2006-12-12T08:43:00.000-06:00

Had a weird dream involving a woman who looked and sounded a lot like Emma Thompson, a grand hotel with an antagonistic staff, and a chief antagonist (Solomani Texan) who would not respond properly when I pull out an ID card and say things like "I am an Imperial Lord", "I have an Imperial Warrant", and "SHUT THE F**K UP!"

That's where I woke up.
_

And Now...

2006-11-29T00:48:00.000-06:00

The number of things that Mr. Welch cannot do in a role playing game is now up to 850:

827. My battlemech does not play Dixie every time I hit the jump jets.

829. Despite the song's claim, a pelvic thrust does not cause Sanity loss.

833. Overrunning a larger army is not a glorious victory if it happened at 3AM and they were still in bed.

Except in Texas when you overrun the Mexican Army at siesta time.

To continue:

837. Even if the rules allow it, I can't take the 1st Armored Division as an ally.

839. In the middle of a black ops no inserting a memo into the target's computer mandating 'clothing optional Mondays'.

842. When handed Dieties and Demigods and told to pick a god for my druid, I will skip right by the Cthulhu Mythos.

845. It's not a good idea to taunt Greek heroes with "Who's your daddy?"

Don't do this to Uncle Dennie, either...

To continue:

849. The FBI tends to notice when people buy several miles of hamster tubing at once.

850. Doesn't matter how practical, we aren't reanimating the dead dragon and having him haul that horde back for us.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled reality.
_

And Now...

2006-11-15T23:22:00.000-06:00

The number of things that Mr. Welch cannot do has increased from 800 to 825:

803. If my personal carried firepower exceeds that of the Battleship Texas, there's a problem.

808. Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

813. Taking the orc warlord's skull as a trophy is acceptable. Not as a hand puppet.

816. The adventure wrap up is the epilogue. Not Miller Time.

822. If everybody in the room is in black leather, we're in the thieves' guild. Not a fetish club.

Um, okay...

We now return you to your regularly scheduled reality.
_

Ship Names

2006-10-22T08:36:00.000-05:00

I was going through some files and found a list of
warship names that I was going to use for a Tech Level-12
pocket empire:

Imperial Navy (Freya)

Resolution Class Missile Frigate (24 units)

Resolution, Resister, Revenge, Res-Publica, Realist,
Red-Giant, Retribution, Retaliation,
Revolution, Renegade, Red-Dwarf, Reaction, Rectifier,
Rent-Asunder, Red-Shift, Restorer,
Redeemer, Renderer, Remnant, Remainder. Renown,
Repulse, Restitution. Renaissance.

Nemesis Class Cruiser (8 units)

Nemesis, Corisande, Scourge, Lamia, Black-Star,
Victrix, Grendelsbane, Sungoddess

Freya Class Fleet Carrier (4 units)

Freya, Eos, Magenta, Columbia.

Ranger Class Light Carrier (6 units)

Ranger, Bonhomme Richard, Guerriere, Essex,
Enterprise, Hornet.

Aristotle Class Battleship (2 units)

Aristotle, Ayn Rand.

Audacity Class Destroyer (40 units)

Audacity, Adamant, Animosity, Enmity, Antagonist,
Adversary, Assailant, Contender, Aversion,
Antipathy, Aversion, Anger, Annoyance, Agitate,
Aggravate, Arrogance, Insolence, Flippant,
Sassy, Audacious, Brazen, Hussy, Annoyance, Tart.
Aspire, Ambition, Objective, Rancor, Venom,
Indignant, Bitter, Irate, Furious, Incensed,
Indignant, Inflamed, Aroused, Impassioned, Incited,
Fervent.

I haven't named any SDB's yet.