Bit of a longer post, sorry bout that, but I felt it was time, perhaps once again, to point out the flaws and limitations in the CDC’s stats on sexual violence, specifically as they relate to the National Intimate Partner Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS), which is the source of all the fun stats on sexual violence that get thrown around by the 451 percenters. Who are the 451 percenters? Those the folks who believe and spread the lies bout sexual violence being endemic to society. Everyone’s a sexual predator! All 451 percent of women are violated, and all 451 percent of men are violators.
TL;DR: An analysis and rebuttal to the CDC and NISVS’s statistics on sexual violence. The CDC uses NISVS to generate the stats on punny sexual violence that make wild claims, like one third of all women, etc… the 451 percenters’ claims bout punny sexual violence. They use a ‘yes means yes’ method of determining what counts as punny sexual violence, which is aesthetics based. Elevating aesthetical concerns to ethically obligatory concerns is fascistic, and a grave moral fallacy. ‘Yes means yes’ is also puritanical, meaning it overly moralizes sexuality. Putting puritanical fascists in charge of determining how many punny sexual offenses are happening is like putting the KKK in charge of determining how many jews are sexual predators. “All 451 percent of them, obviously!”
Body Of The Post
‘Yes means yes’ is an aesthetical ethical concern, ‘Do I want it or not’. This is what the National Intimate Partner Violence Survey (NISVS) and the CDC use and reflect in their stats on sexual violence. Vibes. They are the ‘emmitt till got what he deserved’ crowd. Whistling at a lady is a criminalizable offense to these folks, a ‘punny sexual violence’.
‘No means no’ is an ethically obligatory concern, ‘Did I refuse it or not’. This is what the criminal stats on sexual violence use and reflect in their stats on sexual violence. Hard data. They are the ‘emmit till did nothing wrong’ crowd. Whistling at a lady is at most tasteless, emmitt till could do far better.
‘Wanting’ or ‘Not Wanting’ something does not consent make. I can want to fuck someone, but not consent to do so. I could not want to fuck someone, but nonetheless consent to do so. The former perhaps because I think it is a bad idea to fuck ‘em even tho I want to. The latter, perhaps because I think it is a good idea to fuck ‘em even tho I don’t want to.
The ‘yes means yes’ folks, the CDC & NISVS stats on sexual violence all mistake ‘wanting’ and ‘not wanting’ for ‘consenting’ and ‘not consenting’; these are not the same things. This is deliberate on their part too. They believe that ‘yes means yes’ is what ought to constitute a determination of sexual violence. Regardless of how y’all view that, it is a deeply controversial notion, and not necessarily reflective of what most people think of when they think of sexual violence.
‘Unwanted’ essentially means ‘I don’t like it’. It is a complaint bout the aesthetical qualities of the sexual encounter, not its consensualism. If this is at all unclear, the simplest method to understand why this is so is to note two unrelated aspects.
One is racism. People regularly ‘feel fearful’ of men for no reason at all, but they also feel fearful of men because of racism all the time. That fear factor ™ is what makes the encounter ‘coercion’ or ‘unwanted’. The person literally does nothing wrong, *just exists* and the other person freaks out.
Note in the quoted sections at the end of this post how much of the stats rely on fear and feelings to generate their numbers.
Two is the person came on too strong or in an undesirable way. The person flirts in a normal and perfectly fine way, but the other person freaks out. Think bout it people, for the love of god think bout it. ‘Coming on too strong’ and ‘an undesirable flirtation’ are being counted as ‘punny sexual violence’ in these stats.
It’s entirely puritanical, and entirely a concern bout aesthetics.
There are other sorts of coercive methods, but the point here is that the terms ‘unwanted’ and ‘coercion’ only really cash out as ‘I don’t like it for some reason or another’ in the CDC’s and NISVS’s stats.
When you see that lady spouting off bout her fears of mexican rapists, she’s reflected in these stats folks. They’re just surveys. People who lock their car doors in ‘bad neighborhoods’ are reflected in those stats.
These all translate to ‘I felt threatened’ (big black boy vibes) or ‘felt pressured’ (scary white guy vibes), or ‘felt in danger’ (native american coming to get you vibes), or ‘felt uncertain if you wanted it’ (arab terrorist vibes) or 'felt like I was being manipulated' (angry asian martial artists vibes) . Doesn’t have to be racism at play here either, women can be irrationally fearful of any man. Vibes.
The actions themselves are not criminalizable.
Non p-hacked stats try to avoid these kinds of obvious ambiguities in the language used to generate the 451 percenters’ stats. These folks however lean into the lies and deceptions, and deliberately use language designed to deceive people reading the stats into thinking that people have been harmed. They take language that means literally ‘I like or don’t like it’ and translate that to mean ‘I was sexually harassed, sexually assaulted, or even raped’.
This is how they inflate the numbers, so we get to the 451 percenters’ wacky ass beliefs; ‘451 percent of women will suffer egregious sexual violence to them at least fifty times in their lives’. All this means is vibes. 451 percent of women get some bad vibes bout some dudes.
You can hear it echoed in the bear or man discourse. Why do women choose the bear? Vibes and irrational fears. ‘We choose the bear because we don’t feel safe!’ translates directly to ‘Emmitt till whistled at me, and he’s a big black boy, that’s scary’ and ‘the mexican rapists are swarming over the border to get me’.
These are the stats that people point to when they try to justify their misandristic hot ass takes. They are self-referential to that same fear based aesthetic the stats are. The stats are reflective of peoples’ irrational fears, and people use those stats to justify their irrational fears, and people spread those fear based stats thereby spreading their unjustified fears. It’s a circle rub.
To criminalize these kinds of things is to be fascistic (treating aesthetics as if they were of obligatory concern), to believe that they are morally reprehensible is to be a puritan (overly moralizing sexuality).
The folks deriving these stats translate ‘unwanted’ (aesthetical ethics) to ‘sexual assault’, ‘sexual harassment’, or ‘rape’ (obligatory ethics), then lump everything together as ‘punny sexual violence’ to get the big numbers used to scare people and terrorize men. That’s called fascism.
“[T]here remains a likelihood of underreporting due to the sensitive nature of SV”.
This justification means that they do not trust people to report SV, ‘don’t believe women when they say they haven’t suffered any SV, manipulate the questions so they say yes to something they don’t think is SV, or which simply isn’t SV, and we’ll just call it SV of this or that sort. Later we’ll propagandize people so they too come to believe our puritanical misandristic hot ass takes.’
There is no lie nor hyperbole in what I am saying here. That is the rationale and the method. If you bone up on your academic lit in the topic, this is, well not verbatim what they say, I am lambasting them here, but this is the crux of what their argument and justifications are, and they explicitly hold that they ought be propagandizing people to their puritanical beliefs.
They push the fascistic (aesthetical ethical) and puritanical (overly moralized sexual ethics) discourse into the public by presenting stats that merely reflect fears and pretend that they are reflective of sexual violence. People then come to believe that those kinds of fear based concerns are actually sexual violence. An ‘unwanted flirtation’ becomes in their minds and only in their minds a sexual violence.
Emmitt till got lynched for whistling at a lady. They only disagree bout the racism, but he definitely deserved to be punished in some way like all men do for whistling at someone they think is hot af. Puritanism.
All just vibes, all but aesthetics, and all fascistically raised to a level of ethically obligatory concern.
“Just as SV is not limited to physically forced penetration, its perpetrators are not limited to strangers. Indeed, perpetrators of SV are more likely to be someone known to the victim. Sexual violence is a problem embedded in our society and includes unwanted acts perpetrated by persons very well known (e.g., family members, intimate partners, and friends), generally known (e.g., acquaintances), not known well or just known by sight (e.g., someone in your neighborhood, person just met) and unknown to the victim (e.g., strangers). “
Be afraid of everyone, any man out there could be your next rapist! That’s right ladies and gents, you’ve been raped several times already, you just didn’t know it. But don’t worry, the statisticians know better. They asked you an unrelated question you said yes to since you were too dumb to know that you were raped, and counted it as rape. Then they informed you that you ought be afraid of everyone in your community, lest they also rape you, unbeknownst to you of course. But again, don’t worry, the statistician will count those too.
As a measure of fear the 451 percenters capture, well or worse who knows, all the racism, sexism, bigotry, and various phobias in the society, and how those fears are transferred onto masculine bodies as imaginary perpetrators of punny sexual offenses. None of it is real, there are not 451 percent of sexual violences happening, 451 percent of men are not sexual predators, and 451 percent of women are not victims of sexual violence.
‘Safety culture’ mostly reflects irrational fears.
Ask the kkk how many black people are rapists, you’re gonna get a high number. Ask puritans how many people are punny sexual offenders, you’re going to get a very high number. Such is the most tame interpretation of what is going on. The 451 percenters are puritans, they’ve overly moralized sexuality, counting offenses to their sensibility rather than criminal actions.
Puritans informing you how ‘vile and wicked’ your sexual ways are; advocating to make their puritanical beliefs bout punny sexual offenses into legally enforceable laws. These are the same kinds of concerns bout a someone dressing too provocatively, such is a ‘punny sexual violation’ to the sensibilities of others.
The less tame version of this is that it is exactly what fascists do. Lie to people especially bout punny sexual offenses in order to ratchet up the fear levels in the population, so they run to them to solve the ‘problem’.
Could be both tho.
Either way, their misandry murders little boys. They celebrate terrorizing men, and rejoice in lynching folks. They’re despicable people.
Solutions?
Ruthlessly love them. Write them love poems, show them kindness and generosity of spirit, but give them not a dime in money, nor ever relent to their irrational fears. Extol their beauty and virtues, make love with them, utterly ruthlessly. Be overtly sexual bout it, in this give them no quarter, bring to an end their puritanism by giving them no plausible cause to be thus. No one under the duress of loves’ enticements and sexual pleasures be puritans. Be relentless, show them masculine sexuality; give them nothing to complain bout, but give them masculine sexuality. Don’t fall for their puritanism, be the boys of summer.
Respect a ‘no means no’ ethic as a code of obligatory actions. Use aesthetical ethics towards good sex with mutual respect given; don’t ever take that as a one way thing. Do not conflate the aesthetics of good sex, 'enthusiastic yeses’ with those of the ethics of obligation ‘no means no’. Don’t be puritans, don’t be fascists, be sex positivists.
Call out the stats when folks bring them up, refer people to these points, feel free to refer people to this post and/or the attached video. ‘But the CDC said’ is not a valid argument; they have put puritans in charge of determining punny sexual offenses. They find punny sexual offenses everywhere they look.
If you’re super coolio, start advocating against the CDC’s use of NISVS to determine what constitutes sexual violence. It doesn’t match with criminal data’s methods, it doesn’t utilize the metrics of ‘no means no’ which are the proper metrics to use, instead it utilizes what amounts to peculiar beliefs bout the aesthetics of sex as a means of measure for punny sexual offenses.
They are spreading a puritanical belief system bout punny sexual offenses, nothing more, and they are causing public health problems by spreading their lies. They are not counting sexual offenses, they are not a criminal justice system, they aren’t technically even in the business of understanding sexual violence. They are the Center For Disease Control, not the ‘center for social engineering sexual practices control’.
Original video on the topic, with some additional resources for understanding these issues in the description.
The Rest Of This Post Is References To The CDC, NISVS, And Crime Data Reports, Along With Some Quotes Thereof With Short Specific Retorts Highlighting The Relevant Info In The Quotes As It Pertains To The Post. This Is But A Small Sample Of How They Use Language Of Aesthetics To Make Their Ethical Claims, And How Their Language Is Misandristic.
sv_surveillance_definitionsl-2009-a.pdf (cdc.gov)
Fast Facts: Preventing Sexual Violence Violence Prevention Injury Center CDC
Key Terms & FAQs National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS)Funded
Programs Violence Prevention Injury Center CDC
Some key quotes from this, Bolded text hereafter are coded for ‘yes means yes’ methods of understanding sexual violence, and sometimes misandristic language. Italicized text are quotes from the sources:
“Rape is defined as any completed or attempted unwanted [unwanted is an aesthetic criteria, not a consent criteria which is ‘a no was stated’ attempted while a real thing allows for further insertion of scary vibes to pad the stats, e.g. the blackness of the lover] ...includes times when the victim was drunk, high*, drugged, or passed out and unable to consent.* [puritanical belief bout drinking and drugs, e.g. one cannot consent if drunk or high. Note that it is separate from being drugged or passed out and unable to consent, and that criminally speaking being drunk or high is not indicative of a lack of capacity to consent, also note this is de facto applied to women only].
“Sexual coercion is defined as unwanted sexual penetration that occurs after a person is pressured in a nonphysical way. In NISVS, sexual coercion refers to unwanted vaginal, oral, or anal sex after being pressured in ways that include being worn down by someone who repeatedly asked for sex or showed they were unhappy; feeling pressured by being lied to, being told promises that were untrue, having someone threaten to end a relationship or spread rumors; and sexual pressure due to someone using their influence or authority.”
Unwanted is an aesthetic category, not a consent category. ‘Sexual coercion’ is not a criminal offense either. It is a puritanical belief bout sexuality that is based on a sex negative view, e.g. that sex is a bad unless and until magical words are said to make it into a good. Calling it ‘sexual violence’ is just lying. Coercion is defined misandristically to only be bout penetration, which precludes all the ways that women use sex and sexuality to manipulate, use, abuse, and harm people; note that there are essentially zero surveys done that include some ‘feminine coded coercive behavior’ into these stats. That is by design. Including not incidentally the way that women have historically and currently used irrational fears over their sexuality to terrorize men and get people murdered.
“Unwanted sexual contact is defined as unwanted sexual experiences involving touch but not sexual penetration, such as being kissed in a sexual way, or having sexual body parts fondled, groped, or grabbed.”
Unwanted is aesthetics, not consent. Also this literally describes flirting. I know they want to try and capture some other sort of notion, grossy mcgrosser pinning someone down and groping them, but all this describes here, and all the stats can possibly reflect, is flirting.
“Non-contact unwanted sexual experiences is defined as those unwanted experiences that do not involve any touching or penetration, including someone exposing their sexual body parts, flashing, or masturbating in front of the victim, someone making a victim show his or her body parts, someone making a victim look at or participate in sexual photos or movies*, or* someone harassing the victim in a public place in a way that made the victim feel unsafe.”
This category is quite broad and puritanical in its disposition, as it assumes there is something wrong with seeing naked images unless and until expressed verbal consent is given, and undoubtedly ignores the en masse flood of naked images of women online to which basically every guy is exposed to. Compare again to people who claim that women ought not be allowed to show their ankles as it causes a ‘harm’ to those who are ‘forced’ to see it. Exact same shite. Aesthetical concerns of wanted or unwantedness, and also notice the expressly stated vibes check ‘victim feel unsafe’. Look out for the black boys, they make them feel unsafe!
Crime/Law Enforcement Stats (UCR Program) — FBI
Quick Facts on Sexual Abuse Offenses (ussc.gov)
It’s worth mentioning that statistically speaking, if one uses the stats derived from crime data as opposed to statisticians making numbers up, the percentages of men who do sexual violence, depending a bit on how you count it, are: 0.0516% or .478% or .0957%. Although the video goes over this all in pretty good depth, just do a little sniff test here; are .478% of the male population sexually violating a third of all women, 55.5 million women?

Councillor Vek stood on the observation deck of the cruiser Balexa, as she watched the blue planet below. Earth, as the inhabitants called it. Indigenous life had only just developed tools and weapons of metal and combustion, yet something about this world felt...different.
Vek's assistant, a young Dreth named Pylor, approached. "Councillor, our sensors have detected an unusual energy signature coming from that landmass." He pointed to a region on the planet's map.
Vek peered down at the indicated area. "Life signs?"
"Massive. Billions within that small area alone. And..." Pylor double checked the readings. "Their technology...it's exceeding all models for their stage of development."
Intrigued, Vek ordered the Balexa into a lower orbit to investigate directly. Below, sprawling cities dominated the landscape, towers of metal and glass thrusting towards the heavens. Ground vehicles filled roadways in great herds.
But it was what Vek saw in the skies that made her gasp. Dozens of giant space ships above the planet.
Vek urged the Balexa closer, honing in on the largest vessel. Over a kilometer long, it resembled an arrowhead piercing the clouds. Guiding it through flight tests, no doubt. But its capabilities went far beyond simple transport.
Her eyes analyzed the gleaming hull. Powerful weapons arrays, ultra-dense alloys, inertial dampeners—this was no mere explorer ship. It bore the armaments of a capital warship, yet wielded in the skies of a supposedly primitive world, according to 1000 year old reports.
"Scan it," Vek ordered. The results shocked even her aged sensibilities. Particle beam projectors, gravitic torque generators, ablative shield matrix far exceeding, any known galaxy-class defenses. She watched silent as the warship shrugged off simulated meteor bombardments, and energy lances that would have crippled a flagship.
"Are the sensors malfunctioning?" Pylor asked. "This...this shouldn't be possible."
Vek didn't respond, lost in thought. The colonization directive had brought her here expecting a standard uplifting, not...this. A new species on the cusp of space, yes, but with a military capability challenging the Grand Fleet itself. Her duties were clear, yet prudence demanded further observation before revealing her presence.
That evening, Vek witnessed lights illuminate the cities as perpetual twilight fell. Not the flickering fires of a primitive settlement, but vast geometric patterns flooding the night with steady radiance. Roadways became rivers of motion as noxious fumes belched from pipes. She watched holographic entertainments broadcast atop towering spires, their realism surpassing even the Dreamcast pleasure worlds.
It was all too much. This world had advanced beyond all projections, its technology perfectly integrated within human civilization. Yet had achieved spaceflight only yesterday. An impossibility...unless directed by an outside influence. But signatures showed no alien contamination, only the fingerprints of natural evolution.
"Councillor," Pylor interrupted her thoughts, "I'm detecting a new vessel launching from the underground test site."
Vek shifted her gaze and witnessed madness. Rising from its berth came a colossus the size of a hab-moon. Twenty kilometers of pitiless metal rising on pillars of blue inferno, a vast sphinx of iron. Its armored prow glinted cruel in the light of its world. No other word could apply but "leviathan."
She watched speechless as it performed basic maneuvers. Its motion sent ripples through the atmosphere itself, as entire mountain ranges would shake. Multispectral scans revealed engineering beyond rational thought, a work of art and horror, given form in girders and armour-plates. No known drive system could shift its bulk, yet it drifted with ethereal grace.
Vek collapsed into her command throne, as the giant ship vanished into the mottled sky. Only one thought echoed through her stunned mind.
This changes everything.
Councillor Vek's findings on the human home world of Earth, had rocked the Galactic Council to its core. A species possessing technological marvels far beyond their years of spaceflight, should not exist, yet Vek's evidence proved otherwise. As the leaders convened an emergency session, their debate centered around how to handle this unprecedented development.
"Negotiations must be made at once, to assess if these 'humans' pose a threat," stated Morax of the Androrian Conglomerate. "We cannot allow such advanced militaries to emerge unchecked in the galaxy."
Vek spoke up. "I caution haste. The humans integrate their technologies peacefully on Earth, and welcomed our observations from orbit. Forceful intervention risks destroying what could be a powerful new ally."
Others argued humanity should be contained for study and surveillance, to learn their intentions. Tempers flared until Councillor Porx silenced the chamber. "Further debate is pointless without understanding these beings. Vek, with your ship the Balexa being closest, you are tasked with open contact and assessment of the human condition."
Reluctantly agreeing, Vek set course for Earth with escort vessels. As the Balexa entered atmo, she watched the armada of human vessels fill the skies once more. Her mind raced with what to make of such a belligerent yet benign species. Perhaps hospitality ruled here while militarism emerged elsewhere, as with so many spacefaring civilizations.
The Balexa landed in an open field outside a sprawling metropolis. Vek and her delegation exited warily, the high oxygen air thick in their respiratory systems. Above, jet aircraft flew patrol routes. while curious onlookers documented the arrival on personal communicators.
Approaching vehicles emerged, this time carrying humans who exited with open hands. "Greetings, I'm Commander Jasmine Chen of the United Earth Space Command," said the apparent leader. "We welcome peaceful contact and welcome you to our world."
Her relaxed yet watchful presence put Vek at ease. "I am Councillor Vek of the Galactic Council. We come in friendship to learn of your people and capabilities."
Chen nodded. "Please, come with me and we’ll discuss how we might cooperate for mutual benefit.” She guided them into waiting transport vehicles towards a towering citadel. Along the route, Vek glimpsed, colossal fusion reactors, automated infrastructure, and most astonishing, families and children walking without fear amongst such technological wonders.
Arriving at the United Earth Space Command headquarters, Vek received a cultural download on human history. Only an eyeblink ago, they waged wars from the back of beasts and shattered each other with primitive explosives. Now they spanned the Solar System and bent physics to their will, yet retained community and empathy in their evolution.
Chen brought them to a viewing platform high above the city. "This is what 350 years of focused progress has achieved. Our advance began, when we discovered alien wrecks on the Moon containing lost knowledge. From there, our science boomed while social reforms fostered cooperation."
Vek struggled to process such rapid development. "And your military capabilities? Ones matching capital fleets already?"
Chen smiled knowingly. "A necessity of our past, yet now a guarantor of peace. We keep stride to ensure safe expansion, not conquest. See, all technologies serve life's betterment."
Her wise words allayed Vek's fears of some belligerent power. Indeed, humans bore responsibility for such marvels rather than recklessness. She thanked Chen, believing a new partnership had begun that could uplift the galaxy.
As the Balexa departed that day, Vek pondered all she now understood of humanity. A species arisen from war to wisdom, empowerment and care for others. Their defense of all requiring defense through strength guided safely by conscience. Truly an example to follow into a brighter future, if accepted.
But ominous clouds gathered where none before have been...
The Council chambers fell silent as reports of the Balexa's findings spread across the Galactic network. Councillor Vek recounted humanity's technological feats and philosophical underpinnings in great detail. While unsettled by Earth's military prowess, the consensus agreed their intentions seemed benevolent.
As debate resumed, an aide burst in with urgency. "Attack fleets have engaged at the Estron outposts. Casualty estimates are catastrophic."
Gasps filled the room. Estron, a core Council world renowned for compassion, laid defenseless against the ravaging warships. But how had the Anti Council faction pushed this deep so quickly?
Vek turned to the hologlobe, coordinating response forces to intervene quickly. But she knew conventional fleets, couldn't match the invader's new annihilating momentum. Unless...
An idea formed, She opened a channel to Commander Chen, as other leaders objected in shock. "Humanity proving themselves is unwarranted. We cannot condone--"
But Vek sensed Chen had come to the same conclusion. "Councillor, send us all you have on this threat. Our ships stand ready to aid in whatever way is needed."
The Council fell silent at her resolve. Vek transmitted Battle Assessment 716-C and tracked the human warship streaking into hyperdrive, escorted by two escort cruisers. She prayed this unprecedented response would succeed where fleets had failed.
As the human task force arrived at Estron, they beheld utter ruin. Planetoids bombarded into dust, settlements glassed from space. The last distress calls wept through static, as heat shimmered off molten continents.
Captain Sato of the Yamato grimaced at the carnage. "This ends today. Shields to maximum, charge main cannons. Helm take us in."
The faction armada appeared like demons bursting from an inferno, dozens of war beasts thirsting for more conquest. But they weren't prepared for the grey giant, punching through their formation's heart.
Blue lances of plasma speared the leading ship, overloading its shielding and armor in a microsecond. The massive ship erupted in a brilliant fireball that consumed several nearby fighter craft. Meanwhile, precision volleys from the Yamato's mass drivers sheared through the battlecruiser amidships. Secondary explosions ripped the cruiser to pieces, as it drifted lifeless.
The humans coordinated their attacks with flawless synchronization. Squads of escort gunships strafed and bombarded the swarm ships, attempting to flank the capital ships. Their advanced targeting systems, allowed multiple targets to be engaged simultaneously. Within minutes, over a dozen enemy vessels had been eliminated with surgical strikes.
The surviving faction forces regrouped and organized a desperate counterattack. A dozen assault frigates charged headlong at the Yamato, unleashing everything in their arsenals. Shields flared as energy lanced and missiles impacted across the human warship. But its shields held easily, dissipating each strike with efficiency.
Resuming its offensive, the Yamato activated its main cannons once more. Two gigawatt particle beams lashed out, melting through the foremost frigates in a pair of massive explosions. Shrapnel and debris pelted the remaining ships, crippling their systems. Bombardment from the escorts mopped up the drifting hulks.
With their main attack crushed, the rest of the fleet broke into a panic-fueled retreat. They scattered in all directions, pursued relentlessly by human forces. Within the hour, only broken ship fragments remained of what was once a formidable invader fleet.
Aboard the Yamato, Captain Sato surveyed the devastated aftermath with a heavy heart. So many lives lost unnecessarily, due to the faction's brutal conquests. But now, Estron could begin to heal thanks to humanity's intervention. As cleanup crews tended to survivors, Sato opened a channel to Earth and to Galactic Council to deliver their mission report.
Word of the battle's outcome would help forge new bonds of trust, and cooperation between humanity and the Galactic Council.
In the ruins of Estron's capital, Councillor Vek witnessed humanity's compassion firsthand. Survivors were rescued, and cared for without regard for species or faction. She knew in that moment that the Pax Terra had begun, and a new era of partnership had dawned with Earth.

Councillor Vek stood on the observation deck of the cruiser Balexa, as she watched the blue planet below. Earth, as the inhabitants called it. Indigenous life had only just developed tools and weapons of metal and combustion, yet something about this world felt...different.
Vek's assistant, a young Dreth named Pylor, approached. "Councillor, our sensors have detected an unusual energy signature coming from that landmass." He pointed to a region on the planet's map.
Vek peered down at the indicated area. "Life signs?"
"Massive. Billions within that small area alone. And..." Pylor double checked the readings. "Their technology...it's exceeding all models for their stage of development."
Intrigued, Vek ordered the Balexa into a lower orbit to investigate directly. Below, sprawling cities dominated the landscape, towers of metal and glass thrusting towards the heavens. Ground vehicles filled roadways in great herds.
But it was what Vek saw in the skies that made her gasp. Dozens of giant space ships above the planet.
Vek urged the Balexa closer, honing in on the largest vessel. Over a kilometer long, it resembled an arrowhead piercing the clouds. Guiding it through flight tests, no doubt. But its capabilities went far beyond simple transport.
Her eyes analyzed the gleaming hull. Powerful weapons arrays, ultra-dense alloys, inertial dampeners—this was no mere explorer ship. It bore the armaments of a capital warship, yet wielded in the skies of a supposedly primitive world, according to 1000 year old reports.
"Scan it," Vek ordered. The results shocked even her aged sensibilities. Particle beam projectors, gravitic torque generators, ablative shield matrix far exceeding, any known galaxy-class defenses. She watched silent as the warship shrugged off simulated meteor bombardments, and energy lances that would have crippled a flagship.
"Are the sensors malfunctioning?" Pylor asked. "This...this shouldn't be possible."
Vek didn't respond, lost in thought. The colonization directive had brought her here expecting a standard uplifting, not...this. A new species on the cusp of space, yes, but with a military capability challenging the Grand Fleet itself. Her duties were clear, yet prudence demanded further observation before revealing her presence.
That evening, Vek witnessed lights illuminate the cities as perpetual twilight fell. Not the flickering fires of a primitive settlement, but vast geometric patterns flooding the night with steady radiance. Roadways became rivers of motion as noxious fumes belched from pipes. She watched holographic entertainments broadcast atop towering spires, their realism surpassing even the Dreamcast pleasure worlds.
It was all too much. This world had advanced beyond all projections, its technology perfectly integrated within human civilization. Yet had achieved spaceflight only yesterday. An impossibility...unless directed by an outside influence. But signatures showed no alien contamination, only the fingerprints of natural evolution.
"Councillor," Pylor interrupted her thoughts, "I'm detecting a new vessel launching from the underground test site."
Vek shifted her gaze and witnessed madness. Rising from its berth came a colossus the size of a hab-moon. Twenty kilometers of pitiless metal rising on pillars of blue inferno, a vast sphinx of iron. Its armored prow glinted cruel in the light of its world. No other word could apply but "leviathan."
She watched speechless as it performed basic maneuvers. Its motion sent ripples through the atmosphere itself, as entire mountain ranges would shake. Multispectral scans revealed engineering beyond rational thought, a work of art and horror, given form in girders and armour-plates. No known drive system could shift its bulk, yet it drifted with ethereal grace.
Vek collapsed into her command throne, as the giant ship vanished into the mottled sky. Only one thought echoed through her stunned mind.
This changes everything.
Councillor Vek's findings on the human home world of Earth, had rocked the Galactic Council to its core. A species possessing technological marvels far beyond their years of spaceflight, should not exist, yet Vek's evidence proved otherwise. As the leaders convened an emergency session, their debate centered around how to handle this unprecedented development.
"Negotiations must be made at once, to assess if these 'humans' pose a threat," stated Morax of the Androrian Conglomerate. "We cannot allow such advanced militaries to emerge unchecked in the galaxy."
Vek spoke up. "I caution haste. The humans integrate their technologies peacefully on Earth, and welcomed our observations from orbit. Forceful intervention risks destroying what could be a powerful new ally."
Others argued humanity should be contained for study and surveillance, to learn their intentions. Tempers flared until Councillor Porx silenced the chamber. "Further debate is pointless without understanding these beings. Vek, with your ship the Balexa being closest, you are tasked with open contact and assessment of the human condition."
Reluctantly agreeing, Vek set course for Earth with escort vessels. As the Balexa entered atmo, she watched the armada of human vessels fill the skies once more. Her mind raced with what to make of such a belligerent yet benign species. Perhaps hospitality ruled here while militarism emerged elsewhere, as with so many spacefaring civilizations.
The Balexa landed in an open field outside a sprawling metropolis. Vek and her delegation exited warily, the high oxygen air thick in their respiratory systems. Above, jet aircraft flew patrol routes. while curious onlookers documented the arrival on personal communicators.
Approaching vehicles emerged, this time carrying humans who exited with open hands. "Greetings, I'm Commander Jasmine Chen of the United Earth Space Command," said the apparent leader. "We welcome peaceful contact and welcome you to our world."
Her relaxed yet watchful presence put Vek at ease. "I am Councillor Vek of the Galactic Council. We come in friendship to learn of your people and capabilities."
Chen nodded. "Please, come with me and we’ll discuss how we might cooperate for mutual benefit.” She guided them into waiting transport vehicles towards a towering citadel. Along the route, Vek glimpsed, colossal fusion reactors, automated infrastructure, and most astonishing, families and children walking without fear amongst such technological wonders.
Arriving at the United Earth Space Command headquarters, Vek received a cultural download on human history. Only an eyeblink ago, they waged wars from the back of beasts and shattered each other with primitive explosives. Now they spanned the Solar System and bent physics to their will, yet retained community and empathy in their evolution.
Chen brought them to a viewing platform high above the city. "This is what 350 years of focused progress has achieved. Our advance began, when we discovered alien wrecks on the Moon containing lost knowledge. From there, our science boomed while social reforms fostered cooperation."
Vek struggled to process such rapid development. "And your military capabilities? Ones matching capital fleets already?"
Chen smiled knowingly. "A necessity of our past, yet now a guarantor of peace. We keep stride to ensure safe expansion, not conquest. See, all technologies serve life's betterment."
Her wise words allayed Vek's fears of some belligerent power. Indeed, humans bore responsibility for such marvels rather than recklessness. She thanked Chen, believing a new partnership had begun that could uplift the galaxy.
As the Balexa departed that day, Vek pondered all she now understood of humanity. A species arisen from war to wisdom, empowerment and care for others. Their defense of all requiring defense through strength guided safely by conscience. Truly an example to follow into a brighter future, if accepted.
But ominous clouds gathered where none before have been...
The Council chambers fell silent as reports of the Balexa's findings spread across the Galactic network. Councillor Vek recounted humanity's technological feats and philosophical underpinnings in great detail. While unsettled by Earth's military prowess, the consensus agreed their intentions seemed benevolent.
As debate resumed, an aide burst in with urgency. "Attack fleets have engaged at the Estron outposts. Casualty estimates are catastrophic."
Gasps filled the room. Estron, a core Council world renowned for compassion, laid defenseless against the ravaging warships. But how had the Anti Council faction pushed this deep so quickly?
Vek turned to the hologlobe, coordinating response forces to intervene quickly. But she knew conventional fleets, couldn't match the invader's new annihilating momentum. Unless...
An idea formed, She opened a channel to Commander Chen, as other leaders objected in shock. "Humanity proving themselves is unwarranted. We cannot condone--"
But Vek sensed Chen had come to the same conclusion. "Councillor, send us all you have on this threat. Our ships stand ready to aid in whatever way is needed."
The Council fell silent at her resolve. Vek transmitted Battle Assessment 716-C and tracked the human warship streaking into hyperdrive, escorted by two escort cruisers. She prayed this unprecedented response would succeed where fleets had failed.
As the human task force arrived at Estron, they beheld utter ruin. Planetoids bombarded into dust, settlements glassed from space. The last distress calls wept through static, as heat shimmered off molten continents.
Captain Sato of the Yamato grimaced at the carnage. "This ends today. Shields to maximum, charge main cannons. Helm take us in."
The faction armada appeared like demons bursting from an inferno, dozens of war beasts thirsting for more conquest. But they weren't prepared for the grey giant, punching through their formation's heart.
Blue lances of plasma speared the leading ship, overloading its shielding and armor in a microsecond. The massive ship erupted in a brilliant fireball that consumed several nearby fighter craft. Meanwhile, precision volleys from the Yamato's mass drivers sheared through the battlecruiser amidships. Secondary explosions ripped the cruiser to pieces, as it drifted lifeless.
The humans coordinated their attacks with flawless synchronization. Squads of escort gunships strafed and bombarded the swarm ships, attempting to flank the capital ships. Their advanced targeting systems, allowed multiple targets to be engaged simultaneously. Within minutes, over a dozen enemy vessels had been eliminated with surgical strikes.
The surviving faction forces regrouped and organized a desperate counterattack. A dozen assault frigates charged headlong at the Yamato, unleashing everything in their arsenals. Shields flared as energy lanced and missiles impacted across the human warship. But its shields held easily, dissipating each strike with efficiency.
Resuming its offensive, the Yamato activated its main cannons once more. Two gigawatt particle beams lashed out, melting through the foremost frigates in a pair of massive explosions. Shrapnel and debris pelted the remaining ships, crippling their systems. Bombardment from the escorts mopped up the drifting hulks.
With their main attack crushed, the rest of the fleet broke into a panic-fueled retreat. They scattered in all directions, pursued relentlessly by human forces. Within the hour, only broken ship fragments remained of what was once a formidable invader fleet.
Aboard the Yamato, Captain Sato surveyed the devastated aftermath with a heavy heart. So many lives lost unnecessarily, due to the faction's brutal conquests. But now, Estron could begin to heal thanks to humanity's intervention. As cleanup crews tended to survivors, Sato opened a channel to Earth and to Galactic Council to deliver their mission report.
Word of the battle's outcome would help forge new bonds of trust, and cooperation between humanity and the Galactic Council.
In the ruins of Estron's capital, Councillor Vek witnessed humanity's compassion firsthand. Survivors were rescued, and cared for without regard for species or faction. She knew in that moment that the Pax Terra had begun, and a new era of partnership had dawned with Earth.

One of the fascinating aspects of outsider reports and analysis is what they see. Given that at this point (1992) the internet was not yet widely available/accessible, this sort of thing would have been difficult to find. And of course SGI wasn't ever going to tell us the truth!
This will show you that SGI-USA (then called "NSA") was failing in recruiting far earlier than perhaps most of us in the US realized. SGI in the USA was basically a flash in the pan; it fizzled fast; and now it's just that rank stale smoke smell that lingers long after the fire's been put out.
This comes from Cults and Nonconventional Religious Groups: A Collection of Outstanding Dissertations and Monographs, "Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism and the Soka Gakkai in America: The Ethos of a New Religious Movement", Jane Hurst, 1992, pp. 150-151. Jane Hurst has some interesting research out there; while she tends toward being uncritically supportive of SGI, anyone who is making statistics available is a big help.

NSA members in the 1960s and 1970s were young (52% below age 30), more than half female (59%), and from a variety of occupations and social classes.

The Baby Boom generation were at most age 19 in, say, 1965 and at most age 24 in 1970.
This youthfulness is largely reflected in the early organization's origins in the American servicemen who returned from being stationed in Japan with their Japanese war-brides - those servicemen tended to be young and from a variety of ethnicities and backgrounds, as the draft was still in effect during that time period (ended March 1975). In addition, the first General Director of the US organization, Masayasu Sadanaga, initially targeted college campuses for recruitment by offering lectures on Buddhism. Sadanaga changed his name to George M. Williams in 1972, in obedience to the (short-lived) direction back then of Japanese leaders adopting American-sounding names (first AND last) in order to appeal more broadly to non-Japanese Americans.

The percentage of Oriental members steadily decreased as more and more white and black Americans joined NSA as seen in Figure 10, above.

Figure 10 (I'll get to that line in another post.)
Ewps - Here's the REAL Figure 10.
Most of the original "Oriental members" were those Japanese war-brides, whose first efforts to recruit new SGI members were directed toward other Japanese individuals.

NSA members came from the major religious traditions of Protestantism (30%), Catholicism (30%), and Judaism (6%). At the time these 1971 statistics were compiled, all areas of American society. By 1983, the age span was even more broad, with 11% of the members age 50 and above, 62% ages 30-49, 24% ages 20-29, and 3% below age 19.

For reference, here are the age ranges for the existing generations in 1983:

• Greatest: Ages 59-82
• Silent: Ages 38-58
• Baby Boomers: Ages 19-37
• Generation X: Ages 4-18
• Generation Y (Millennials): Age 3 or younger.

While these 1983 statistics aren't broken down by generation, here's what is clear:

• 11% of the SGI-USA membership was MUCH OLDER than Baby Boomers
• 62% was either Baby Boom generation or older (though younger than that oldest group)
• 24% was Baby Boomers
• 3% was younger than Baby Boomers.

This means that 97% of the membership of SGI-USA was Baby Boom generation OR OLDER!

IN 1983!!

Notice how this affirms the demographic estimate from this other research: "Soka Gakkai in America": Little appeal/interest outside of Baby Boom generation

Take a look at Table 4.
Specifically, the Age cohort (%) category.
For the Converts, 26% are older than Baby Boomers; 61% are Baby Boomers. That makes 87% Boomer and older. Only 14% are younger than Boomers.
No wonder SGI-USA is aging and dying, with these kinds of numbers!
We are seeing, like, 90% Baby Boomers in the group photos we've looked at.
The pictures back this up.
Also, this comment by an SGI-USA leader a few years ago during Minoru Harada's visit (anyone know what year that was?):

They [top SGI-USA leaders] then went off on how when we create these big-ass meetings, we shouldn't have to look into the crowd and see, and I quote, "A bunch of old-ass motherfuckers" The words of my "superiors", not mine. I think this is when they brought up the idea of 50K to my co-leaders and me. Source

"Old-ass motherfuckers" is all they have. How 'bout showing a little of that appreciation and gratitude SGI bangs on about??
Worse, "old-ass motherfuckers" is all SGI-USA can get.
Further, again referring to Table 4, SGI-USA's membership is solidly 2/3 women. That means it's going to be very difficult for women in SGI-USA to find mates to marry, which means childlessness will be more of a norm than an exception. Child-free is a valid and respect-worthy decision, don't get me wrong, but a religion's most reliable source of younger members is its own membership's children. Since SGI-USA's female members don't feel any responsibility or obligation to bear multiple children (like those poor, stupid Mormon sheepwomen do), there won't be any next generation to take over.
There's a reason so many religions have traditionally exhorted their membership to have lots of babies, why they condemn birth control and abortion. A big part of it is to keep their own numbers up! Source

It's the same problem happening in Japan within the Soka Gakkai:

On the other hand, aging is relentless. In terms of the Soka Gakkai's membership demographics, the "volume zone" where most members fall is the baby boomer generation who joined by the 1960s. They are now late elderly. In the past, the management of centers in various places was handled by the "Gajokai" consisting of Young Men's Division members, but it is no longer possible to secure personnel. Instead, in 2009, the Soka Gakkai launched the "Ojokai'' consisting of "middle-aged divisions,'' scolding them as "young people in their 50s'' and rushing to mobilize them. Source

GOOD LUCK!

For perspective, note that SGI-USA was managing to recruit just "1,000 per YEAR" - including all ages - between 1991 and 1999. Eight years of only 1,000 members added per year, with no accounting for the deaths or defections. Were the years after that more successful, recruiting-wise? I doubt it.

[Then-SGI-USA's public-relations director for the East Coast Bill] Aiken says SGI-USA has attracted about 1000 new members per year for the past eight years. - from 1999. Only 1,000 new members - across the ENTIRE 360+ million-person strong USA - in an ENTIRE year. And this extremely low level of success for EIGHT YEARS IN A ROW!! Source

From 2018:

In recent years, the number of young Soka Gakkai members has been decreasing rapidly . Looking at the participants in the simultaneous broadcasts and roundtable discussions, the majority are of the grandparents' generation, with only a small number of young people in their 20s and 30s, and the number of teenage boys and girls is almost an endangered species .
Therefore, what I am interested in is the population of Soka Gakkai by age group. This time, I would like to estimate the current population of Soka Gakkai by age , based on information I have personally seen and heard and verification from others . Please note that this estimate is very rough.
First, the largest number of Soka Gakkai members are baby boomers (born between 1947 and 1949 [Japan's Baby Boom]). This seems almost certain considering the history of the development of Soka Gakkai .
Also, the total number of members has already been verified by many people, and is estimated to be around 3 to 5 million people. This time we assume about 4 million people .
And this is what I heard directly from a staff member at headquarters last year, who said , `` The number of activists decreases by about 1/3 with each generation.'' I think this is a reasonable rate of decline that can be felt by looking at participants in simultaneous broadcasts and roundtable discussions. It seems that members who have stopped being activists are less likely to have their children join, so this time we will use a value of 1/3 per generation as the member decline rate .
Also, regarding the number of years it takes for generational change, the average age for men and women to give birth to their first child is currently 30 years old. Considering that the average age of childbearing for both men and women when the baby boomer generation was born was 24 years old, and that there are cases where not only the first child but also the second and third children are born, the generational shift will take 30 years. Let's calculate it as if it would take a year . In that case, the annual membership attrition rate would be (1/3)^1/30 = 0.964, or 3.6% .
It is unclear when this trend of declining membership started, but this time we will assume that it started in the year following the baby boom generation (1950). Source

And "Soka Gakkai is like an old people's club":

Regarding the problem of a decline in Komeito votes, or in other words, a decline in active Soka Gakkai members, many people concerned point out that the primary cause is the aging of Soka Gakkai members. The enthusiastic members of the generation who supported the growth of the society along with charismatic Honorary President Daisaku Ikeda are now elderly across the board. Most of the current new members are second- or third-generation members who join because their parents are members of Soka Gakkai, and they are not very enthusiastic about Soka Gakkai's activities. Today, many of Soka Gakkai's daily events are even derided by insiders as "like an old people's party."

And a more recent report (this year):

Back about 20 years ago a good friend and good guy, now deceased, from ChiTown, was commissioned by SGI Central Command to survey every contactable member of SGI in every district in America. The number he came up with was 5% of the number of Gohonzon passed out since, I guess whenever Gohonzon started to be passed out. The total number was about a million give or take, 20 years ago. These were contactable people, not practicing members. I remember going through lists of people we had on the books and trying to see if they could be reached. So the number we came up with was reported. Hearing nothing about it, I happened to run into my friend at some event at Soka U. He mentioned that he did the survey, and gave me the results. I believe he told me the facts. (Not everyone who practiced was a lying asshole.) So about 20 years ago SGI had about 50,000 “contactable“ people who had received Gohonzon. My estimate that about half of that number had zero interest in SGI. Thus 20 years ago, SGI had about 25,000 members still interested in SGI in some capacity. I think it’s the same number today. (2500 districts x 10=25,000.) Like I said before I went to FNCC twice last year, and everyone, including me, were old zany seniors. Neither conference was for old people. Conclusion: SGI is a senior citizen support group. When I joined in1969, we were all hippie ish, rejecting all the old shit, looking for something new and hip. Now SGI looks like old shit. Source

And another (this year or last):

When I joined 50+ years ago the ratio of youth to MD and WD was about 80:20. Now it's the reverse. Our goal is to move steadily back to a youth focus again. Source

Except it's obvious that SGI-USA doesn't HAVE "20% youth":

Youth? They've got to be fooling themselves!!! When I was still with the SGI last February (2023), I went to the kosen-rufu gongyo meeting at the center in my area. Mind you, the state I live in closed its center in 2021 for undisclosed reasons. That aside, the one I went to was in another state, and at that meeting, they had no byakuren, Gajokai, or Soka Group in attendance. Additionally, the only youth at the meeting were a few small children. Source
I feel that SGI is out of touch with anyone who’s younger than 60. The leaders are retired, have a lot of time on their hands and completely disregard the fact that people may work or have families. For young people it’s the old people taking nonsense. Source

The PROBLEM was already evident in 1983 - and none of the SGI-USA's big "Recruit-Youth-A-Thons", like "Victory over Violence" and "Rock The Ego Era" and "50K Liars of Just-Us" (everybody wants to forget the epic fail that was the "Gandhi, King, Ikeda" exhibit), has made the slightest difference in this demographic disaster. In fact, preparing for the 2018 "50K" event, SGI-USA likely had only 2,451 members in the 12-35 (or perhaps 11-39) age group, just 9% of the most generous SGI-USA active membership total (~30,000).

Ikeda could have preserved a "youthful" Soka Gakkai by passing the Presidency to a younger candidate, but Ikeda refused, because Ikeda was too focused on and obsessed with HIMSELF - his power, his prestige, his wealth, his status, his fame, his renown, HIM becoming leader of the world, his PERMANENCY, and his legacy. He refused to let anyone else come anywhere CLOSE to the power and control - he greedily, selfishly clutched it all tightly to himself and refused to share.
THAT is why the Ikeda cult Soka Gakkai/SGI is aging and dying. It's ALL Ikeda's fault, Ikeda's responsibility. IKEDA DID THAT.
Some "mentor". Source

SGI-USA has never managed to recover from that demographic bottleneck that happened no later than 1983.

The next day finds the military part of the Bridger family waiting in one of the larger cargo bays. Paladin company and Shark Platoon are on hand, all in full power armor except for Makula, with the exception of Jaruna who's standing next to Jerry in a family uniform with her shotgun and sword slung over her back. Jerry had also elected for a dress uniform today, though he'd paired it with a 'ceremonial' curaiss that could still take a hit from a plasma cannon or two... and concealed a small shield generator. Mixed with his cloak and the Crimsonhewer war ax on his belt, Jerry thought he looked every bit the barbarian warlord... if a bit too clean cut for a Hollywood depiction of such.
The situation reminded Jerry of a similar reception back on Serbow... but this one was a bit less ceremonial and a bit more... dynamic. They didn't have any formal bonds with Clan Karchara, or their Khan, Komugai. So as a meeting of two new to each other factions, things could get... exciting. Which considering they were talking about Cannidor meant that things could potentially get very violent, very quickly.
They usually didn't. Not any more. Yet... it never helped to play it safe, even with a clan that had a decent reputation like the Karchara. More cut throat clans had been heard to disguise themselves for meetings like this for meetings so they could ambush their targets after all. Plus as always, there was tradition to observe and satisfy. Tradition which could be best summarized as 'Offer one hand, but arm the other.'. The Cannidor were ready to fight a war naked among any people but their own. They were beyond dangerous. So an armed society wasn't so much a polite society as the unarmed were likely mentally infirm, and to be politely left to their own devices.
A sharp whistle from the 1MC draws Jerry from his thoughts.
"Now hear this! The Clan Karchara envoy is arriving!"
The Karchara drop ship slides into view out of the black and makes it's way towards the docking day with all the leisurely grace of a terrestrial shark swimming towards a coral reef. Whoever's piloting it is clearly a hot hand on the stick because the ship moves as smooth as anything Jerry had ever seen out of Cruel Space, extending it's landing gear and coming to a halt with nary a hint of a bounce in it's suspension and shock absorbing gear.
"Hmmm. The Karchara..." Jaruna rumbles. "An interesting contact in Cannidor space to be sure. So to recap what we talked about, they're somewhat on and off again allies of my old clan. Decent types for the most part. No idea who the Khan is now, and a little searching online didn't turn anything up. Don't think the intelligence weasels had anything either. Save that they've been having some internal structural changes. Seized a new planet too, lighting raid, unconventional tactics, whatever that means. Gives them complete control of... ten decently populated and industrialized star systems I think. They're firmly in the middle of the power band for the Khans by that measurement, exact position depends on the number of warriors under arms they can bring to the Golden Khan's muster."
"Right. Well. Guess we'll have to see what Khan Karchara wants to chat about, and hear about this plan of hers."
The Karchara drop ship settles onto it's landing gear, and it's flight crew leaves the engines running. Tradition. You never knew if a reception was actually friendly after all, and it was also a mark of respect for the hosts. You might be asked to fuck off after all.
The forward assault ramp drops, and the honor guard warriors of the Khan march out, in power armor, but with their helmets off, fanning out to cover their leader. The lack of helmets was very much a declaration of intent, the human equivalent of open palms for a Cannidor in power armor.
Jaruna's brow instantly furrows as she scans the faces of the honor guard.
"...Wait. I know some of those girls. One of my aunts, Norkath is there on the left, and that's... but that."
Jerry can hear Jaruna's brain crunching that information.
"...Komugai. You said the Khan's name was Komugai? Not Jelvuna?"
"Definently Komugai."
"...Unless she changed her name... but then would Aunt Norkath join the Karchara proper without her...?"
Jaruna mutters to herself, clearly trying to puzzle whatever's eating at her out, when the sound of heavy boots on the assault ramp sound, and an utterly massive Cannidor woman starts to come into view. She cuts an imposing presence. Her uniform not too far off from Jerry's, a mix of barbarian warlord and modern dress uniform. The massive war ax over her shoulder tipping the scales on the barbarian - modern officer scale towards barbarian. It was easy to miss her other various weapons in the sheer scale of her. Her stark white fur, the three brutal scars across her muzzle, and another two over her left eye, which had a cybernetic replacement.
Khan Karchara stands for a moment, surveying the room silently... and before anyone can say anything, Jaruna breaks the silence;
"...Mom?"
Khan Karchara cuts loose with a booming laugh that reminds Jerry of Khan Isuras, and if this is indeed Jaruna's mother, he can immediately see exactly why the two women cut palms and swore sisterhood. He wouldn't be hard pressed to believe they were actual sisters.
"Heh. Glad to see all that time on Centris hasn't dulled your powers of observation! Always said you were a sharp one."
There's no sarcasm there, a little maternal teasing perhaps, but she's not mocking Jaruna. Anyone with eyes can tell Khan Karchara is damn proud of her child.
"And this'd be my son in law... bit small but hell just from your first date with my little girl I know you're a first class head kicker, plus you already gave me four grandbabies to spoil! Hahah. I suppose these bigguns here are the older girls? I... say. I thought there was three of you."
Karchara points at Makula.
"You're a bit old to be Hippolyta considering she was born a couple weeks ago. Who are you, girl?"
"Makula Sa'Bridger, I was adopted a few days ago. Honored Matron."
Karchara grins, her numerous teeth gleaming in the light of the hangar.
"Matron? Not Khan?"
"You are my mother's mother, standing in my family's clan hold. To refer to your title by right of blood is most appropriate."
Another bark of laughter.
"Well drilled and whip smart I see. You know the ways of our kind well, granddaughter." Karchara smirks, looking smug before turning to her honor guard.
"See girls? Five now! Haha! What a stud of a bull!"
Khan Karchara turns back to Jerry and Jaruna.
"Ah but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get the formal bit done so we can go jaw a bit and then hopefully I can visit with my eldest daughter, my son in law and these fine young ladies."
She quickly shifts her body a bit, drawing herself up to her full, imposing twelve foot height.
"I am Komugai, Khan of Karchara. I come to broker peace and fellowship between our clans, to join them in a bond of steel that will stand the sword storm for all time."
Jerry nods slowly. More than they'd expected actually. That was laying out intent to conduct some very, very serious negotiations.
"I, Jeremiah, Khan of Bridger, Admiral of this fleet, lord of these proud warriors before you, bid you welcome, Komugai of Karchara, bring your banner among ours, that they might rest together while we discuss the business of peace, and of wars yet to come."
"Well spoken indeed... and the steel in your eyes." Komugai nods slowly. "Yes, I see what you see in him, Jaruna, well past his considerable combat skills. All the better my dear son-in-law that you have already begun working on my grand design... but come, let us dismiss our warriors that they might go and eat, drink and enjoy themselves. We need only you, Jaruna, and perhaps my granddaughters for this business, so that they might learn the ways of leadership."
"I think we can accommodate that." Jerry says before turning and pulling the ax off of his belt and raising it high, an ancient Cannidor signal for attention from the leader of a warband to their warriors.
"Warriors, we walk with friends, show them to the promenade, that they might share our table while we discuss business."
Jerry and Jaruna guide Komugai to the conference room they'd prepared, while Joan and the girls quickly hustle to get their armor stowed and get their tails to the same spot. None of them wanted to miss a minute of this!
Still, the tension in the room's fairly heavy when the door closes, and Jaruna turns on her mother.
"Alright. We got a couple minutes till the girls get up here. What the hell, mom? You changed your name? Took over the Karchara? What the heck is going on?"
Komugai settles herself in a Cannidor scale chair, grinning all the while.
"You should be happier, daughter. This was inspired by you after all. When you left our band. Left the old clan... I knew you were right. We won't speak of that business, but we were obligated... and I should have been brave enough to refuse, but I lacked the standing... and perhaps the courage. So I did what any good Khan worth her blades would do and crammed it down their throats. Broke that clan, took them in, then subsumed the Karchara with my new band. They've got the older name, so I became Khan Karchara instead of remaining Khan Jormuntide. Your Aunt's got the title now. I'd offer it to you, but you've got your own clan now."
"So Jormuntide remains at least." Jaruna shuts her eyes for a second and lets out a slow breath. "You really did all this because of my idealistic and childish temper tantrum nearly a century ago?"
"Hardly childish. Idealistic? Absolutely. There's something to be said for actually trying to live up to our own ideals though. Especially as warriors. However, that is personal business, and we have business to discuss for the Undaunted first."
Komugai turns to face Jerry square on.
"Admiral Bridger, I'm prepared to offer two things to the Undaunted. One. I want to ally myself and my clan formally with the Undaunted. Second, I prepared to gift an entire star system to the same from my holdings. It is populated, but sparsely across three habitable worlds. Ripe for ongoing colonization and industrialization. To keep things fair, people within my clans will be given a chance to move to or from as they please if for some reason they don't wish for Undaunted citizenship. The Undaunted will then have the standing to select a Khan for your Cannidor population, both in Cannidor space, and Undaunted wide. A non voting position at first, but as the clan grows you will achieve that status quickly I believe."
Jerry stops dead. "...Did you just offer us a star system with three habitable worlds?"
"Yes."
"...Okay, I'm on board, but why?"
"Simply put, the worlds are marginal. They need investment. They need settlers. You need worlds. A strong alliance with humanity... and being the first Cannidor clan to extend that hand formally, even having your realm within my space... only benefits me. As I grow my own territory I might even cede another system to the Undaunted. If the Undaunted Khan helps me in those battles I damn sure will." Komugai chuckles. "We'll see how many Khans are stupid enough to try to fight me in the next few decades of course. The other thing I'm trading on is Undaunted naval power. As you just learned, we don't really do navies. I want a professional navy, the Undaunted have agreed to help me get it... and help secure my space once we secure them my end of the bargain, that, Admiral, is where you come in."
Jerry arches an eyebrow and gestures for Komugai to continue.
"Simply put, you need to do what you just did with that border bandit Khan Irgalas, but across Cannidor space. This isn't a done deal. It's up to the Grand Council and I'm but one vote. You already have an in with some of the other Khans, and the Undaunted are doing business with Cannid Solutions. That's an excellent start, and you just made a stellar formal introduction of yourself to Cannidor space. A flawless orbital and ground fight like that'll make sure word gets around that the Undaunted are here... and as dangerous as their rep says they are. I got a little list of the other movers and shakers you need to press the flesh with to win over key parts of the council. You make the rounds, and I'll be doing the same on my end. We meet on Canis Prime for the council meeting, and then we either have a huge brawl to make our point or toast victory with some top quality booze."
"You make it sound pretty simple." Jerry says, clearly not believing there's all there is to it.
Komugai shrugs. "It is simple in its concept. Pressing the flesh and winning the various Khans over won't be. They'll all have their little tests and challenges for you to get the measure of both humans and the Undaunted. We've seen a lot on the trivid as a species. A lot of us have heard stuff in the news or from kin. This is your chance to just straight up show people who you are and what you're about. Because now you're here, and therefore 'real'. If that makes any sense. Cannidor don't really care much about shit happening on the other half of the galactic disk. Undaunted, Humans, being here? Now? Now people will really start paying attention besides idly seeing if there's some interesting amateur porn or more combat footage available."
The Khan points over at Joan, Boudicca, Khutulun and Makula. "These four will likely be very critical to the warrior house's opinion of you... your next generation of warriors, your daughters. How are they treated? How are they trained? What's their mettle like? If they're strong, and worthy, you will impress the khans in a very good way. If my granddaughters are found wanting, they'd question a great many things... and could cause trouble when the Grand Council meets to discuss my little proposal, among other orders of business."
Jerry looks over at Joan and the girls, all four of them are suddenly looking very tense, especially Makula. "I have every confidence in all of my daughters to deal with anything the Khans can throw at them. Even Hippolyta if a trial suited for an infant is on hand."
That gets a chuckle from the girls, relaxing them a hair.
"Still. We'll burn that bridge when we get there. No sense borrowing trouble that hasn't come yet."
Komugai nods. "Wise words. Your diplomats have already approved this plan on their end, they'll send you the itinerary and all the fussy details shortly. Unless you have other questions for me?"
"I've heard there's a grand council of patriarchs too. Would getting in good with them help?"
That gets a full on shrug from the massive warrior woman. "Yes? I mean. Probably. No good way to arrange that though beyond asking my hubby, and I have. He said their council will handle things if it's deemed appropriate, and I don't need to fuss about it too much, and I know a polite way to be asked to fuck off when I hear one... so keep your head on a swivel on that one Jerry, I'm sure the patriarchs are well aware of the Undaunted... and are looking at a possible way to make warriors out of their sons without making their wives piss their frilly panties."
The khan's brilliant white teeth glitter in the room. "Back when we were the more traditional kind of savages back on our homeworld, the bulls did a lot of the leading and the fighting on an individual basis. Women however have always fought the wars. As we grew as a species, developed power armor, space travel, had our population bloom, a bull fighting another in single combat became less practical, and the other traditional male roles of shaman, guide, and brain trust came to the forefront. The council of patriarchs is an old body Jerry. Pre space flight. One of our first forms of international diplomacy between the khans. The matriarchs hold all the power... but when the council of patriarchs speaks, people know to shut up and pay attention."
Jerry nods slowly. Seemed like he'd just have to wait and see... and make sure he made a good impression when the opportunity presented itself.
"Well. I think that concludes everything we need to talk about professionally. Unless you have something else Khan Karchara?"
"Aww, just call me Mama like my big fuzz ball over here used to when we're not working! I've heard a bit about this little fortress of yours, could you all give me the tour? I'd like a chance to talk to all my new granddaughters after all."
Jerry shrugs. "Sure, we'll head up to the Den for a bit, then head down to the promenade to join the girls for some drinks and skewers. Our Cannidor eatery's got the best skewers in wild space whenever we're there."
"Don't I believe it, get to try some more Earth meats too! Bought a little sampler pack from a friend and good goddess, if you start exporting that bacon stuff in bulk, I'm going to invest in a chain of gyms, because there's going to be a lot of girls fighting to keep their girlish figures!"
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Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 13, 2160
The irritability coursing through my psyche was palpable. Every sound was dialed up to eleven, stabbing at the core of my sensory processing. Constant awareness grated on me after days without sleep, never having any break from the stream of information I needed to digest. There was no way to shut the world off and reset, and no reprieve from the unsettling reality of my physical experience. I was curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on like this.
Virnt scuttled over to me in the spaceship, jostling my shoulder. “Elias? Would you like to turn back from this mission?”
I remembered how I’d spent most of the trip, standing under the water in the shower. There was a special shampoo they’d provided for synthetic hair, like a wig. I held out my phony hand and emptied most of the bottle’s worth of goop, zoning out; I was trying to soak in the distant sensation of liquid running down my spine. Once upon a time, this had been the most relaxing time of my day—letting muscle tension fade away and cleansing grimy skin oils. Now, I knew neither of those two still existed in my day-to-day life to assuage.
Did it even matter to slap soap on some metal frame? There were no consequences of letting hygiene go by the wayside. I didn’t sweat in order to start to reek, and I couldn’t get skin conditions or be affected by bacteria. It could be that I was bathing out of habit, clinging to my old lifestyle, that I kept going to wash up. Perhaps the shower had become my favorite haunt because I felt disgusting in this body. Everything was a reminder that I was an inhuman scrap pile, and it was wearing on my sanity. It wasn’t like anyone related to what I was going through.
I used to spend so much time fussing over making my suits look crisp and perfect—immaculate ties, UN pins adjusted just right. The heavy jackets would trap my body heat in the summer; now, it no longer had that effect. I could bundle up as much as I wanted in 40 degree Celsius heat, unless there was some limit that would fry my circuits. Shit, I might not need a spacesuit in the vacuum of space—I couldn’t freeze or suffocate, after all. Being left out in the void for all eternity didn’t sound that much different from my present experience.
I hate what I’ve become. I hate what they’ve done to me; all I do is think, and every part of my new self lives in the uncanny valley. There’s nothing positive. Maybe it’s time to call it…death was better than this. I can’t bear another day of this hell.
“Hey, stay with me! Distractibility, depression, being unable to maintain concentration—these are natural consequences of sleep deprivation. I’m surprised it carries over without a physical mechanism to grow tired…but I’m working on a sleep suite, I promise,” Virnt said, glossy eyes staring at me.
I groaned. “I’m not tired, but it’s just nonstop. I…I’m having trouble remembering what I read.”
“Here, I’m going to try a temporary fix. You look like you need it. I don’t want you to suffer; just turning you off and on isn’t the same. I’m going to emulate GABA, uh, shut off your optic sensors, decrease the activity in your prefrontal cortex, and simulate delta waves for an hour. We can see if it somewhat fills the need for deep sleep, okay? Relaxation, no processing: worth a shot, right?”
I nodded mutely, staying in the fetal position. I didn’t have the will to move, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up that Virnt’s plan would be any mercy. The sensation of the Tilfish tinkering with my settings was strange, as if my brain was being overridden in the moment. There was no process of falling asleep to give it the air of naturalness. Suddenly, I was blind, trapped in darkness—and a modicum of drowsiness kicked in, limiting my movement. Thoughts died down, offering much-need relief; I faintly wished I could remain in this state.
When I came to, there was a sudden influx of information as the rest mode was switched off; it was hardly a seamless waking, but I’d take it. Peace in my own head was something I’d never take for granted again. I hadn’t thought myself to be a weak-minded individual, but I hadn’t realized how much it wore on you: feeling out of place in your own body every waking second, and not trusting your senses. Brain function had been restored enough that I could get a grip on myself, and rise in my disheveled state. A peek out the window revealed we’d completed our intra-atmosphere transit to the Duerten embassy.
I rubbed my eyes on reflex, but there were no gifts from the Sandman there. “Why couldn’t you have just added everything to start with, Virnt?”
“The humans I talked to said they wouldn’t want to sleep, unless they had to! I put the most focus on your emotional matrix and your facial expressiveness, since I thought that has the highest importance of what makes you human,” the Tilfish replied.
“You could’ve made it at least optional.”
“I sent the option to your holopad for the future, to trigger this program for as long as you’d like. This is a learning process, so I’m sorry for anything that’s off. All trial and error here, but it’s only going to get better! That’s the positive.”
“There are a lot of patches needed. For starters, you’re missing two of the senses: taste and smell. In spite of that, ever since I walked past the Terra Technologies staff eating tater tots, I’ve been craving them at random intervals. I’m not hungry—I can’t consume food!”
“Predator instincts,” Virnt teased. “The Federation was right.”
“I’m serious! Why on Earth would that be a thing? I literally can’t satisfy it, so it’s almost cruel.”
“It’s psychological, Elias. I looked into it after I saw it in your transcript. When humans are under a lot of stress or otherwise feeling down, you seek dopamine from food. It’s something familiar that activated your memories, and promised emotional comfort. That’s why you have the phrase ‘comfort food.’”
“I can already see how the Federation remnants would spin that. A predator’s so-called emotions are tied to food, and stimulate appetite to fulfill their whims.”
“You seem in better spirits. To add to your improved mood, we announced the success of your memory transplant to the world. The response was overwhelmingly positive—history looked back fondly on you. You got a lot of well-wishes, and I was able to get almost all of your social media re-activated. At least, the platforms that are still active.”
“I’m…allowed to share my honest experiences?”
Virnt eased me out of the shuttle, into the sunlight; cameras were waiting, causing me to stiffen. “Of course you can. I’m not here to muzzle you, my friend. Quite the opposite, in fact: I want your experiment documented as thoroughly as possible! You’re the spokesperson for—”
I shielded my face from the reporters, who were lobbing questions. “What is this? I don’t have a prepared statement. This is an ambush.”
“Terra Technologies has a mission of transparency, and improving sapients’ quality of life through digital means. We had to announce such a monumental breakthrough, but you’re under no obligation to speak with them.”
“Good,” a warm voice chimed in from next to me, making me jump. “The poor guy’s come back from the dead, Virnt. Give him a break. He’s here to speak with the Duerten Forum and their ambassador, for some semblance of his old life.”
I turned my head, beaming as I recognized her. “Erin? Oh, sorry: that’s Secretary-General Kuemper, isn’t it? You’ve moved up in the world. The United Nations is in good hands.”
“It’s good to see you, Elias. I bawled my eyes out at your funeral. You cared so much for peace and taking the high road; there isn’t a person out there who could’ve handled first contact with more grace. You inspired me, and an entire generation of future diplomats.”
I embraced Erin, who’d once been a passionate SETI researcher giving me all of the bad news about aliens. As we flailed about in the dark to save humanity and adjust to the galaxy, finally acquiring a few friends, she’d become my Secretary of Alien Affairs. I’d trusted her to do whatever it took to stabilize our extraterrestrial relations. It was a bit of a relief to see a positive reaction from someone I knew; I wasn’t sure how my friends would take my return, but I hadn’t been expecting a welcome with open arms. It brought me solace and comfort to know about the legacy I’d left behind, and the ripple effects my tenure had on the United Nations.
It is strange to see how much she’s aged. That’ll be the reality of anyone that used to be an acquaintance of mine.
The alarm bells pinging in my head faded into the backdrop, and I forgot that the wind gusting against my face only felt like a dull push. My mind slipped away from food cravings that failed to get my mouth to water, how there was no feeling of tightness from my dress shoes, and the stillness of my non-existent diaphragm. I was simply happy to see someone I cared about and enjoyed working with, in my old life. There was safety in having a person I trusted to be on my side. My brain snapped back into diplomat mode, falling into a familiar flow of conversation. If I had nothing else, I still had my social skills—an ability to navigate various cultures.
“So the Duerten Forum agreed to meet with the two of us. They know about the Sivkit attack, but not the full threat,” I spoke aloud, after breaking away from the rather soul-affirming embrace. “I read the strategy meetings for briefing them, and I’m on-board to appeal to nostalgia; humanity saving their homeworld was after my time, but close enough to it that I could serve as a reminder. A blast from the past.”
Erin nodded, her security forming a wall between us and the cameras as we walked toward the embassy. “I always wondered what you’d think of modern Vienna, Elias. All of the aliens willing to be here on our world, and to treat us like people. Friendship used to seem like a pipe dream; we were happy if they’d allow us to exist, tolerate us to that extent. Look at us now.”
“I almost gave up hoping that they could care about us, or stand beside us at all. We couldn’t do it alone then. It’s time we remember to stand together—to rise to the occasion once more. I can’t bear the thought of anything threatening our home, or our friends. I saw enough needless death twenty-four years ago.”
“That pain is a lot more recent to you. It’s completely okay to be wrestling with grief. A billion of ours died.”
“We didn’t become the monsters they thought we were, and we pulled through. We revealed their hatred and treachery, and have chosen a future set on rectifying every right they trampled. I’ll always mourn what we lost, but I’ve never been more proud of humanity in my life.”
Kuemper patted my shoulder. “You sound like yourself, my dear old friend. It’s very good to have you back; you were much better at smiling while they spit in your face than I ever was. Let’s do what’s necessary to get the ball rolling with the Shield.”
“I’m right behind you.”
The exterior of the Duerten embassy had a distinct construction style, with metal and concrete forming the bulk of the outside structure; on Kalqua, sturdiness was at the foremost of their priorities. Winds on a normal day could ratchet up to what we’d consider a tropical storm, according to my brief review of their culture. The door was evidently heightened to facilitate foot traffic from humans, despite the exit hatches on the upper floor which seemed frequented by the avian staff. Their personnel could literally fly away during an emergent situation. I tailed Kuemper into the lobby, and noted how much of the inside’s floor was concrete as well. It was resilient and easy to clean, a perfect surface to avoid being marred by talons.
Most of the gray avians used perches instead of chairs, with several staffers working on paperwork at their desks; in private areas, some met with any humans who had business with the Duerten Forum. The lack of reaction to a predator’s approach was new to me, but a welcome change. Kuemper confidently led the way to an elevator, which had the English and German words for “Welcome to the Duerten embassy!” written above the opening. The generic Shield logo was painted on both sides of the door, and emblazoned with a representation of Kalqua. There were no buttons inside, apart from an emergency exit; a camera surveyed us, before a watching staffer summoned the car upward. I felt a jolt as we reached the top floor.
“To be visited by two Secretary-Generals: one of whom is a ghost! Let me express the Duerten Forum’s honor and delight. Not, of course, that I don’t cherish Ambassador Hannah Marston’s visits.” A silver-feathered head poked out of a door at the end of the hallway, past a spacious lounge; his beak was the precise yellow of corn. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Kuemper shuffled forward, giving me a knowing look. “Water would be lovely for me. Thank you for the warm welcome, Ambassador Korajan.”
“I second that gratitude. Enchanted to meet you. I’m sure you know, but I’m Elias Meier.” Taking a gamble that the ambassador was more than acquainted with our customs, I extended a hand. Korajan strode forward with confidence, ensnaring my palm in his wingtip. “We appreciate you taking the time to sit with us, Ambassador.”
“Just Korajan,” the avian said, feeling my artificial hand with undeniable curiosity. He finally released my grip, and waited for us to get seated. “There’s no need for formalities, especially when I’m in such esteemed company. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve come to seek your assistance in the fight against the Sivkits’ assailants. The Sapient Coalition needs allies to back us against these menaces,” Kuemper stated. “Any help we can get would make a difference.”
“I see. I heard about your unfortunate defeat in your prior engagement, but I don’t see how it involves or concerns us. The Duerten, as you well know, aren’t in the position we used to be. We’ve turned our focus inward for years, shoring up our defenses to watch out for our beloved planet. The potential benefit it might offer you is so negligible that it’s hardly worth increasing our vulnerability. The risk far outweighs the rewards for any party.”
I studied the avian, careful to avoid a direct stare. “I understand that it’s a lot to ask. However, small bits of help from across the Shield can accumulate to be a massive difference maker. We want to stop this genocidal force from getting anywhere near Kalqua; if we play our cards right, you won’t need defenses.”
“Elias—sorry, may I call you Elias?” Korajan asked, continuing after I nodded. “We’re, of course, concerned to have a predatory species with such power and intentions, outside our known terrain. They bear a striking resemblance to the Arxur, and my government does appreciate the advance warning from the SC so we can make preparations. Yet the Forum is concerned by several of your recent initiatives, which would make us doubly unwilling to back your cause.”
“Go on. What initiatives have unsettled you?” I hope he doesn’t mean me, with resurrecting dead humans; that’d hit close to home, and I don’t know how to defend it. “Perhaps we can clear up our rationale and intentions, ensuring that there are no misunderstandings.”
“I hope I’m not impolite to point it out, but my government is beginning to see a pattern in your recent connections to carnivores. The Sapient Coalition is attempting an uplift on one race, despite what we all know happened on Wriss, and has brought them into your mix while they are at war with each other. We’re also aware of these Osirs—a race you are resurrecting to live among you, despite having no idea what they’re capable of. Present company excluded, species that need meat are not trustworthy types. These Osirs are weapons: look at the fangs.”
“Anything is a weapon in the wrong hands. Respectfully, we don’t feel that it’s right to judge a species for their diet. If I’m not mistaken, your own kind were once omnivores, Korajan.”
The Duerten fluttered his wings in acknowledgement. “The Federation changed us greatly—some things for the better, others to erase our intellect. We’re an individualist species, and they tried to make us…what do you humans call it? A ‘hive mind.’ Hive minds, of course, are fiction, yet they tried to make it real. Still, sometimes when you’re changed enough, it makes it impossible to go back to how things were.”
“I of all people grasp that sentiment,” I sighed, without moving an abdominal muscle, reflecting how my life would never be the same in this state. “We believe all sapients deserve a chance at life and happiness. Equality isn’t a principle we withhold based on any factor, and we don’t change species to fit our own whims.”
“This is why we’re content with our relations as is: separate, so we’re not connected to your disputes or obligated to get involved. The Duerten will always have differences between what are considered acceptable behaviors, and our guiding principles and overarching goals.”
Kuemper tapped her fingers on her knee. “Regardless, our choices with the Bissems and Osirs will have no impact or tangible effects on the Duerten. Nor is it a reason to shy away from protecting herbivores, the mandate that led you to stand up to the Federation in the past.”
“That cost us everything. Kalqua took a beating worse than Earth did. We don’t set out to attract the ire of powerful enemies these days.”
“We saved Kalqua. We were there when you needed our help to keep your innocents safe,” I reminded him, knitting my eyebrows with earnestness. “We answer when others call for our help to stay alive; the Duerten know what drives us to answer the bell. Isn’t that worth a smidge of reciprocation?”
“If Earth, or for that matter, Leirn were under siege, we would come. However, it appears to us that you entered their territory, not the other way around.”
“Think of the type of species…no, the kind of governments that would glass worlds. The old-school Arxur Dominion. The Kolshian shadow caste when they were defied. The Krakotl extermination fleet because they hated us. That’s what we see in the Osirs, and the gluttonous killing of Sivkit civilians while refusing to speak. We can’t turn a blind eye.”
“I’m sorry, Elias. Even if I wanted to help you, I don’t have the authority. I’m expressing my government’s position, and I’ve been told the Duerten Forum isn't going to war under any circumstances. I apologize that I can’t be of more use, and regret if you might feel your time has been squandered, leaving empty-handed.”
I shared a look with Kuemper, recognizing that we had been stonewalled; there was an implication in Korajan’s last statement that the discussion on this matter was over. The Forum hadn’t given him any negotiating room, so I didn’t get the sense I could do better than asking for him to take a message. If this was the most friendly party we’d be interacting with, I wasn’t off to a good start wrangling support for an alliance. There were a few other Shield races we could try, but an endorsement from the founders might’ve gotten the whole union on board. We had to find another angle—negotiating with the Fed remnants would be impossible without the Shield as an intermediary.
“Of course we don’t feel that way. The back-and-forth was enlightening, productive communication, as much as humanity would love to stand side-by-side in this endeavor,” I offered. “We appreciate you hearing us out, and do hope you’ll pass along our rationale to the Forum, for clarity.”
“I will,” the Duerten responded. “Your words, as always, deserve to be heard and treated with respect.”
Kuemper followed my lead, rising as I stood. “Korajan, I want you to know I deeply appreciate what you said about coming to Earth’s aid should we ever fall on hard times. That stood out to me, as a reason why our cooperation is so precious and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. I do wish you the best of luck in your future engagements; my people hope you emerge victorious.”
“Thank you. Our door will always be open if you have a change of heart.”
In my mind, I had already vacated the Duerten embassy, but it was necessary to retrace my steps to depart the ambassador’s office. Aliens were much more diplomatic in rebuffing us now than in my era, which was the proper way to express disagreements between nations. It wasn’t lost on me that the differences in “behaviors” and “principles” Korajan meant were things such as hunting, omnivory, accepting carnivores, exterminators, and predator disease facilities. The Forum still clung to much of their old lifestyle; the gray avian had stated that some Federation changes were “for the better.” That was telling about how much of their ideology they’d yet to shed.
“Forgive my impertinence, but before you go, Elias…may I ask a personal inquiry? It’s not on my behalf of my government,” Korajan called, as our shoes cleared the threshold of his office.
I turned around, giving him an encouraging smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“What…what was it like? To die…to be dead?”
“It wasn’t like anything. It was a singularity of all outcomes: all I ever was, and all I ever could be, condensed to nothing. There are no words to describe emptiness and infinite rest. It’s a peace that knows no equal.”
The Duerten dipped his head. “Thank you. It gives me some…personal solace, to know…to know my daughter is resting peacefully. She died in so much pain after only a short period of remission. Ahem…if you’ll excuse me, I…”
“We’ll leave you in peace,” Kuemper replied, softness in her voice.
I folded my hands behind my back, mulling over the choked-up ambassador’s words. How could I let a few days of mental suffering defeat me, when kids suffered through such terrible diseases—never getting to reach adulthood? This program could give children like Korajan’s daughter a chance to grow up, and be a kid, free from pain. As soon as I was alone, I knew I’d be cast back into a maddening state of consciousness, with my brain struggling to stay tethered to this reality. Where I’d been ready to give up before Virnt’s quick fix, the avian’s story made me want to remain in the fight.
The Tilfish had been right: there was the potential for the technology that had brought me back to do a lot of good, and save others a great deal of heartbreak and suffering. No personal sacrifice was too great to ensure that one day, no parent would ever have to bury their child.
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hello guys just want to ask about this job vacancy of DAR. Since they offers 30k for a position of Processor and this position involves of field works. This is just a project based and I’m just shock that they are offering 30k pesos job for 10 positions and when I look to the scope of responsibilities most of the tasks will be documentation so there is no technicalities in this job.
Here are the other functionalities of this position(Processor), Specific tasks and responsibilties include, but not limited to the following:
Ensures that all documents such as copy of CCLOA, list of co-owners, approved ARB masterlist, approved subdivision plan, lot allocation agreement, notice of meeting are complete prior and during to the conduct of the field validation by the FVT;
Prepares Individual Land Distribution Folders; Assist in the generation, registration and issuance of individual computerized title (e- Title);
Gather additional supporting documents needed in the parcelization of the CCLOA;
Assists in service and posting of notices to the ARBs including the arrangement for venues, transportation, etc;
As member of the team, assist the Licensed Engineer in the conduct of relocation survey;
Assist in encoding and uploading data gathered from the field validation; and
Perform other activities that the Provincial Project ManageProvincial Parcelization Component Coordinator may assign from time to time. ……………………
Im just suspicious if this 30k is an all in salary since it just too good to be true for me. Since there’s also another govt department or agency the also offers identical position but they only offer 19k+ even this two departments is are under in province so I’m not sure why this DAR position offer very high amount of salary. Please enlighten me.

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I’m working on my master’s program with WGU (almost finished!!), and as I work on my last project, I need guinea pigs research participants to help me out.
Basically, I need 10 active duty or veteran volunteers to complete a 1 hour-1 hour 15 minute long online course I designed on Generational Differences by the end of the week.
Why military volunteers? Because I have spent over 12 years with the Navy. Seven active, five reserve. My civilian job is for the military on a Navy base. This research will help inform me not only as I finish my last project for school, but in my work as well. The research group has to be a learning population, military is a learning population I’m very familiar with.
The research is not DoD or government affiliated. The results are shared with my school and no one else. It’s strict.
If you’d like to participate, you can self enroll at this link.
However, I ask that participants take the time to complete these items:
• pre-test
• course pre-survey
• course content
• course post-test
• course post-survey
I HAVE to have results for the surveys and tests, or else I don’t get the data I need.
Thank you for your help. And if I can assist in kind, please send me your stuff.

[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]

Chapter Two - Part One
Second Half
__________________
Beginning of Entry…
StarDate: Redacted
Perspective: Major Commander Michael Irons
Species: Human, Humanoid Mammalian Species, no tail.
Description: 5 feet 2 inches [1.6 meters] to 6 feet 9 inches [2.1 meters] average height. 185 lbs [84 kilograms] average weight.
Longevity: 70 to 500-year life expectancy with life extension medical tech.
Unique Trait: Resilience and Indomitable Will.
Place: New Paris (Capital City)
Location: New Eden Prime
In the early hours, as the dawn cast a pallid light over New Eden Prime, the situation unfolded with urgent clarity. Major Commander Michael Irons, alongside Captain Adam Richter, adjusted his Raider armor, his eyes scanning the horizon where the silhouettes of enemy ships began to materialize. Both men were seasoned veterans, their faces etched with the lines of many battles, their demeanor calm yet alert. They awaited instructions as they stood amid the bustling rally point filled with soldiers and militia.
Their focus shifted as Colonel Nick Estrada approached, his imposing figure cutting through the morning mist, the tension palpable in the air. The urgency of the situation had drawn commanders and soldiers alike, all responding to the blare of alarms that had roused the colony from sleep and into action. Colonel Nick Estrada approached, his presence commanding immediate attention. His frame was not just physically imposing but carried the authority of a man who had seen countless skirmishes and emerged victorious. The commanders snapped to attention, though the informality of the crisis allowed for a quicker exchange.
Colonel Estrada, known for his strategic acumen, surveyed the gathered officers before speaking. "Gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Major Commander Irons, Captain Richter, the enemy fleet is now visible. We're seeing a full spectrum—we're up against a formidable enemy. Reconnaissance has identified a significant fleet composition—strike craft, corvettes, frigates, and troop transports. They're not just probing our defenses; they're here for a full-scale invasion."
Major Commander Irons nodded solemnly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. The enemy's intentions were clear: to overwhelm and conquer. "Do we have any intel on their motivations, sir?" he asked, his mind racing through potential strategies.
Estrada's eyes narrowed as he reviewed the latest data on his tactical pad. "Current assessments suggest their primary objective could be resource acquisition or territory expansion. Given the organized nature of their fleet, we can't rule out the possibility of them establishing a forward operating base," he explained, his finger tracing possible invasion routes on the holographic display before them.
Irons' jaw tightened at the assessment. "Have we identified their point of origin or any specific markings that could tell us who we're dealing with?" he asked, his mind racing through the catalog of known hostile factions and their usual tactics.
Captain Richter, ever the tactician, chimed in, "If we can disrupt their landing operations and take out their troop transports, we might slow their advance and buy us some time to fortify positions."
"Not yet," Estrada replied, turning to gaze at the display screen that showed the advancing ships. "Their configurations are unfamiliar, which suggests they're not from any known hostile group within our usual conflict zones. This could be a new player or a proxy force from a rival colony. But it's clear they want New Eden, as the orbital forces were obliterated in minutes."
Estrada, after careful consideration, turned to face the digital map highlighting strategic points around the colony. 'That's a start, but we need a comprehensive plan,' he declared. 'Irons, your units will be crucial in the eastern sector, where their fleet appears most concentrated. Richter, your teams will be our shield in the orbital defenses; we cannot allow them to establish a foothold there."
Richter chimed in, his voice steady despite the escalating tension. "We need to assess their capabilities and intentions quickly. Are they aiming for strategic locations, or is this an outright attempt to overwhelm and occupy?"
Estrada nodded, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Our immediate objective is to hold them at bay and protect civilian areas. I've already ordered evacuations where necessary. Irons, I need your units to fortify the eastern sector. It's closest to their projected landing sites."
"And I'll take the western approach," Richter added quickly. "It has fewer natural barriers, so I'll set up mobile defenses there."
Estrada approved with a brisk nod. "Good. I'll coordinate the orbital defenses to cover your flanks. We can't let them gain a foothold. Whatever their motive, it ends here."
The officers acknowledged their orders, understanding the critical nature of their tasks. Estrada continued. "We'll use the tram system for rapid redeployment. Keep your communications lines open, and expect dynamic orders. We need to be as adaptable as they are aggressive."
As the meeting drew to a close, Major Commander Irons felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. The survival of New Eden Prime hinged not only on their military prowess but also on their ability to outmaneuver an enemy whose capabilities remained largely shrouded in mystery.
With a final nod from Estrada, Irons and Richter dispersed to relay orders to execute their assignments; Irons felt the weight of the imminent conflict pressing down. Each step they took was heavy with the resolve to protect their home, knowing the enemy loomed just beyond the horizon, ready to test the mettle of New Eden's defenders. This wasn't just another border skirmish or a pirate raid. The scale of the invasion suggested a well-planned offensive by a formidable enemy.
Returning to his command post, Irons pulled up the tactical displays, which showed live feeds from drones and satellites tracking the enemy's advance. Each ship was marked in red and moved steadily towards New Eden's defensive perimeter.
"Let's show them what New Eden is made of," he muttered to himself, a mix of resolve and anticipation coursing through his veins.
This was his colony, his home, where his family and millions of others lived and dreamed of a peaceful future among the stars. Today, the peace and survival of the colony depended on his actions and those of his comrades.
As the first enemy ships entered range, Irons gave the order. "All units, engage at will. Prioritize frigates and anything making landfall. We hold the line, no matter what."
Back at the rally point, as shells began to crisscross the morning sky and the first explosions blossomed in the distance, Estrada and Richter coordinated their sectors' defenses, adjusting to the flow of battle. Each report, each burst of static on the comms, added to the day's growing chorus—a chorus filled with the sounds of a colony defending its very existence.
Above them, the sky turned from morning gray to the dark of smoke and fire, the battle for New Eden truly underway. As the alien forces made their ground assault on New Paris, Major Commander Michael Irons quickly marshaled his defensive strategies. The invaders had exploited a slight weakness at the equator of the planet's shield, where the northern and southern fields met, allowing a fraction of their invasion force to penetrate. This strategic breach had permitted several enemy corvettes and frigates to support the ground troops as they marched toward the city.
The morning sky, once clear and promising, was now darkened by the presence of enemy ships. Their shadows cast an ominous pall over the city as their engines roared menacingly overhead. Irons, stationed at the command post just on the outskirts of New Paris, observed the advancing enemy through his binoculars, his heart racing with adrenaline and cold determination.
Despite the thinning of their numbers due to the shield's resistance, the invaders pushed forward with relentless determination. Their landing crafts, equipped to penetrate the weakened shield points by slowing their descent, deployed troops directly into the fray. This strategic insertion allowed them to bypass the stronger defenses and land a significant force just outside the protective barrier of New Paris.
Irons, stationed at the command post, monitored the unfolding chaos through live drone feeds. The images displayed a grim tableau: columns of alien soldiers advancing toward the city, their movements methodical and unhurried, supported by the ominous silhouettes of their air support. The enemy's tactical acumen was evident in every maneuver, challenging the defenders of New Eden to adapt swiftly.
"Prepare all air defense units and activate the aerial defense batteries," Irons commanded into the comm, his voice steady despite the escalating threat. The air around him buzzed with the hurried movements of soldiers and the crackling of radio communications. The colony's air defense force, though robust, was significantly outnumbered without the support of their orbital fleet, which had been decimated in earlier skirmishes. "Target their air support first. We cut off the head, and the body will falter."
Acknowledgments crackled through his earpiece as his orders were relayed down the chain of command. New Eden's air defense force, though robust, was not designed for such a multifaceted assault. The absence of fleet support from orbit, a disadvantage painfully felt by every soldier on the ground, meant that each shot from the aerial defense batteries had to count.
On the battlefield, the sounds of warfare escalated. Explosions rippled across the early morning sky, painting it with streaks of fire as the colony's defenses engaged the invading air units. Irons watched as each successful strike brought down an enemy craft, each plummeting vessel a small victory in the shadow of an overwhelming threat.
Yet, even as they held the line against the aerial assault, the ground forces braced for the inevitable confrontation. The alien troops, undeterred by the resistance from above, continued their steady march towards New Paris. Their ranks, though reduced, remained formidable—a sea of figures clad in armor that glinted under the rising sun, their weapons poised for battle.
"The shields are holding, but we can't let them gain any more ground," Irons muttered, analyzing the tactical map that glowed with indicators of enemy movement. The slight gap in the shield at the equator was a glaring risk, one that could not be ignored. "Reroute additional units to the southern sector," he instructed, pointing to the area where the shield's weakness was most pronounced. "Fortify our positions there. I don't want a single invader breaking through."
His focus then shifted to the city's defenses. New Paris, a symbol of human resilience and ingenuity on the frontier, was fortified with multiple layers of defenses designed to repel invaders and protect its citizens. But today, those defenses would face their greatest test.
"We're on our own," Irons acknowledged, his gaze sweeping across the room filled with operators and strategists. "Every soldier, every pilot—we're what stands between them and the city. We hold them here, at the edge, before they can reach the heart of our home."
As the enemy's ground forces drew closer, the clash became imminent. Irons could see the front lines through the drones—human soldiers taking positions, their bodies tense with anticipation, their weapons trained on the approaching threat. The air crackled with the energy of impending combat, a mixture of fear, determination, and the indomitable will to protect their planet.
"Engage at maximum range," Irons commanded. "Use the terrain to our advantage. Make them come to us through the kill zones."
The enemy's corvettes and frigates hovered menacingly, coordinating the ground troops as they continued their relentless march toward the city's defenses. Irons could see the troops adjusting their formations and a tactical maneuver meant to optimize their approach under cover of their aerial support.
"Focus fire on those corvettes flanking to the east," Irons directed, pointing to the screens displaying satellite imagery. The operators quickly relayed his commands, adjusting the colony's firepower towards the threatening vessels.
Despite the heavy onslaught, the morale among Irons' men was resolute. They were well-trained and prepared to defend their home against all odds. The sound of anti-aircraft fire filled the air, a relentless symphony of defiance against the invading forces. Explosions lit up the morning sky as some of the enemy crafts took hits, their debris raining down and igniting small fires upon the rugged terrain of New Eden Prime.
Irons turned his attention back to the ground troops, noting the enemy's attempt to regroup after each barrage. "They're testing our defenses, looking for weak points. Make sure all sectors are covered and reinforce any undermanned positions," he instructed his lieutenants.
The battle was fierce, with every moment critical. The enemy's numerical advantage was evident, but the defenders of New Paris were determined to make every shot count. The city's aerial defense batteries worked in overdrive, targeting the enemy's air support in an attempt to level the playing field. The city's shield generators protected the city from any aerial bombardment from the frigates. Only the ground forces were a threat as long as the city's shield generators held, but with every strike from those frigates, the shield became weaker.
As the enemy advanced, a sudden and intense firefight erupted at the southern barricade. Irons watched through surveillance feeds as his troops engaged the enemy, their laser rifles cutting through the morning mist. The ground shook with the impact of heavy artillery, a relentless exchange that tested the resolve of every soldier under his command.
"Keep the pressure on! Push them back!" Irons shouted over the radio, his voice a beacon of command amidst the chaos. The troops responded with renewed vigor, their shouts and gunfire merging into the cacophony of battle.
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So, it’s been suggested that we present a simplified overview of the recent essays (linked below) that I co-wrote with respected analyst Hanna Kahlert, of renowned London-based MIDiA Research, which covered so much territory of interconnected concepts that all affect the current and future viability of the music industry. This summary eschews the essays’ “$10 words,” (with the exception of using “eschews” here!) with which some have struggled, and is shared in the bite-sized, more digestible form of a survey and petition in combination with this summary/bullet point preface of some of the most salient points. The survey and petition presents the essence of our thesis in the uncomplicated context of a proactive social impact campaign format.
First, let me explain. I grew up in a Long Island suburb town (about thirty miles outside New York City) during the “English Invasion” of music. I’d first hear new releases on my FM clock radio tuned to stations that prided themselves on finding the “cool stuff” first. It was a time when we were met almost every day with another astounding, mind-blowing record and artist to discover, often with something worth thinking about and culturally significant. Sometimes these releases would even be life-changing. Many of these recordings would become iconic — classic evergreens with songs covered endlessly. Yes, like today, there were also dismissable records then. The difference would seem to be that there are more songs about nothing today, replete with de rigeur profanity that only further detracts and is anything but “cool." While there are some very imaginative productions and impressive singers, there are few records now that demand a cerebral, emotional response, and there is a dearth that will be remembered as moving the needle at all, so to speak. Even customary love themes are largely just recycled imitations of the greats.
Since I also relate to the sensitivity of empaths — someone attuned to the deep feelings of those around them at a personal level — I tend to gravitate to music with a message that connects with us viscerally, that which touches the soul. Especially in our currently fraught times, there clearly is a need for thought-provoking music and for more attention given to the evolution of this genre of what was once deemed “protest songs.” Socially poignant music is a category that disguises protest in metaphors and yet is just as potent. It will create community and superfans, lift spirits, and engender a large movement of positive social advocacy. I established Socially Driven Music to develop and market #Music4APurpose. The concept resonated with Hanna Kahlert and we set about to co-write what we envision.
While developing our conclusions towards offering actionable, viable value-propositions for the music industry, we took several months to sort our ideas, research, digest and assimilate the daily deluge of information about changes battering the music industry. While I wasn’t aware that Mark Mulligan, MIDiA’s Founder and Managing Director, was developing his “Bifurcation Theory,” it is validating to be in sync with his thinking and to be presenting what I consider to be the roadmap to implementing that theory. I am excited about offering takeaways that will hopefully propel many away from feelings of helpless, hopeless despair and towards optimism and positive activism through the enrapture we seek from our music and the communities built around it.
Socially driven music has traditionally been a powerful way to raise awareness about issues across the board, such as Discrimination, Climate, Democracy, Mental Health, Bullying, Substance Abuse, Antisemitism, Equality, Homelessness, Veterans, Suicide,Terrorism, Gun Control, Women’s Productive Rights, Food and Clean Water Insecurity, Cancer and other illnesses, Animal Rights/Protection, Environmental Justice, Oceans, LGBTQ+ rights, etc. Our mandate recognizes the crucial difference of a sustained campaign animated by a song.
Above all, we must always remember and honor “The Greatest Generation” (and all Veterans) who fought and died upholding ideals that they expected us to continue to respect. Political affiliation is most often indoctrinated and not questioned individually. Support traditional Republican philosophy if you must, but #MAGA is not the antidote to Democrats and is authoritarian and dangerous to our democracy!
All causes, including music rights, are affected by the influence of a common denominator — politics. Each social cause group is a large community which can be further grown and energized with the natural evolution of fans to music superfans. Compelling socially thematic music enraptures and beckons fans to demonstrate their proud commonality and membership in a next generation fan club that can actually impact society with its fervor and political influence.
Socially Driven Music, the #Music4APurpose consultancy brand, powers extraordinary reciprocal benefits for artists and songwriters when integrated with the community of fans, causes, supportive brands and empathetic politicians ! [info@sociallydrivenmusic.com](mailto:info@sociallydrivenmusic.com)
A list of many social impact causes can be found in the dropdown menu here.
We are thrilled and very appreciative to have been invited to talk with some of the most highly regarded podcast and webinar programs which will include delving into why major record labels discouraging artists espousing political views is anachronistic, irrelevant and no longer a barrier.
As you work through the survey and petition in this post, you’ll likely have an “aha moment.” We look forward to working with you and our fast growing interactive coaltion who share a passion for energizing positive changes in causes that matter to us all.

Join us. Democracy is a big issue in 2024 and one we can influence together! (The correct local and national choices will influence the rest.)

ONE:
The Survey
TWO:
The Petition
THREE:
Connect With Your Senators and Representatives
Identify your Senators and Congressional Representatives with this link and website tool, below, and let us know in the above survey for what purpose you’d like to collaborate with them. Socially Driven Music’s mandate is to facilitate a potent music-fan-cause-brand-political influencer consortium for positive social impact.
Raise your hand in the survey if you are an artist who might want to volunteer at a voting polling station or actually volunteer to help a campaign with calling voters (and meet some new fans).
PS: Although this piece is focused on how music can influence American politics and the fraught issues it impacts, this same template can be applied worldwide. Talk to us!
And here is the epitome example of what we aspire to create:
Paul Simon wrote the masterpiece “American Tune” in 1973 and it applies 51 years later even more to today’s troubled times. This is one of the best examples of the socially poignant music that we contend is so important to create again today, and a brilliant example of a copyright that will live on forever.
The first link is Rhiannon Giddens with Paul at the Grammy Salute evening for him. The second link is Paul’s original.
The song will bring the listener to tears as it describes a societal hopelessness and yet compels the listener to fight through the despair. It perfectly summarizes the emotion powering Socially Driven Music and I hope helps convey what this written summary is trying to articulate.
https://youtu.be/67pyIglP79U?si=ICl2pDKJgTMwcXTT&t=85
Democracy, #Election2024, #MAGA, #MusicIndustry, #MusicBusiness, #Music, #SocialImpact, #SocialGood, #Biden, #Trump, #Vote2024, #ActBlue, #Veterans, #JohnLennon, #YokoOno

0. High level summary

I propose that fault lines may play a significant and under documented role in what is happening with UFOs and specifically the impact of fault lines on some number of UFO related crashes. I suspect energetic effects from fault lines and gravity effects from mass variances in fault lines (especially while active) impact UFO/NHI navigational systems. They may do things like routing around, or via, fault lines.

1. A new leaker: Dijkstra's algorithm and Diablo Canyon.

On May 13th, 2024, a claimed leaker on UFO/NHI related programs posted on /Aliens with details on their history with the "Program".

• Link.
• Archive link.

It's a huge volume of data but one very particular passage instantly stuck out to me:

"The craft use a system that originally befuddled generations of researchers, but it's essentially a 3D dijkstra algorithm. It finds points around the craft, and chooses the most efficient possible route through space time to get to that point. Some of the parameters it uses to gauge efficiency are totally unknown to us and are a serious point of contention. It's not autonomy, but rather obstacle avoidance not unlike what you would see in a self-driving car. But, the self driving car could go through air, space and water without worrying about what medium its in. Additionally, the algo accounts for the crafts place in time."

And then this surprising sentence shortly after:

"Although the algo is extremely effective, Nuclear explosions and experiments somehow interfere with this navigation. Craft particularly avoid Diablo Canyon, even if we put something they really want there."

So, this Dijkstra's algorithm and Diablo Canyon.
I can find not one single prior reference to this anywhere, ever, in all of Ufology prior to that Reddit post.
I think this is entirely new, or new to the Internet for UFO topics.

• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dijkstra%27s_algorithm

In a 3D version of Dijkstra's algorithm, the algorithm extends from two-dimensional plane navigation to three-dimensional environments, making it suitable for applications such as drone flight paths, underwater vehicle navigation, or spacecraft trajectory planning. The algorithm begins at a starting node, exploring all neighboring nodes and continuously updating the shortest known distances from the start to each node, considering all possible paths. By repeating this process until the destination node is reached, the algorithm ensures that the path with the minimal total distance or cost is selected, taking into account the complexities of moving through 3D space. So, we have the introduction of a known means of navigation, that does 4D (by inclusion of a temporal parameter) mapping in this model.
Then we have the inclusion of Diablo Canyon -- but there are six of these in North America. Three of these are very close to government sites.

• Diablo Canyon Power Plant, California (nuclear)
  • Nearest government: Vandenburg AFB, 35 miles south.
• Diablo Canyon, New Mexico
  • Los Alamos National Laboratory, 20 miles north.
• Diablo Canyon, Washington
  • Naval Air Station Whidbey Island, 70 miles northwest.
• Diablo Canyon, British Columbia, Canada
• Diablo Canyon, Utah
• Canyon Diablo, Arizona

Which could the leaker be talking about? And why is it interesting in the context of UFOs?
Why would a UFO avoid a canyon?

2. Energy fields, UFO navigation and "fault lines" in gravity.

There are numerous reports and stories of things like claimed lasers, directed energy weapons/fields, and even allegedly things like RADAR having some manner of detectable impact on navigational capabilities of UFOs/NHI craft. The lore is full of this topic over time, and it aligns substantially with the scientific backgrounds of people known to be involved, like Sean M. Kirkpatrick.
This caught my eye as I've been doing a lot of reading on certain much lesser-known effects of fault lines, after I learned that the home and neighborhood I lived in as a child, where a group of us saw a "saucer", was literally sat atop a small land mass completely encircled like an island by fault lines. This is not unique--there are others. But this was a wild surprise to me, and especially when the flight path of the ship we saw... once I saw the fault lines path/heading...
It was the same route. The thing we saw, once I saw the fault line maps... it was like looking at a snippet of a Google Maps route that the UFO took, for the duration of our experience seeing it. I did not know this for decades.
For the curious, the bread crumb that led down this path was not this whistleblower, fault lines, or my own experience. It was studying Lagrange Points.
What's a Lagrange point?
Positions in space where the gravitational forces of two large bodies, like Earth and the Moon, balance out the centripetal force felt by a smaller object, allowing it to remain in a stable position relative to the two larger bodies. Think of it like the mid-way point between any two bodies with mass that impact gravity. Earth/Jupiter. JupiteSun. Earth moon/Neptune. You/your cat. It's not a 50/50 thing; if you are and your cat are 10 feet away, it's not 5-foot between you. It's also impacted by gravity from other bodies within range (and range is infinite because gravity is, no matter how infinitesimal at long distances).
There is even conceptually such a place, even if it's trivial in variation, between galaxies.
Keep in mind: there are specifically named 3D mapped always-moving (as Earth/moon for example) always-in-motion Lagrange points for the Earth and Moon. Five total--but those are just the optimal ones. There would be a relative band of space where overall the gravity between bodies is more balanced.
Almost like a fault line in gravity, huh?
That, the fault line discovery related to my experience, and my (then) unrelated fault line research which was pure curiosity unrelated to UFOs... at first.

3. Piezoelectrics, Electrokinetics, and Gravitational anomalies.

So we have a new claimed 4D mapping/navigational tool by NHI UFOs, and that they go out of their way to avoid some "Diablo canyon" no matter what we do. We know definitively there are places where gravity can have relative weak spots, due to the balancing of gravitational waves/forces/mass between bodies. All bodies with mass produce gravity... including tectonic plates.
But that's not all they produce in terms of energy.
Fault lines can generate three different distinct effects beyond seismic (shaking/motion) impacts on the world.
They are:
Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
Stress-induced piezoelectric effects refer to the generation of electrical charges in certain crystalline materials, such as quartz, when mechanical stress is applied. These effects are caused by tectonic stress and strain in the Earth's crust, which deforms the crystalline structures, generating electric fields. At the surface, these effects can disrupt local power grids, cause voltage fluctuations, and affect sensitive electronic equipment. In the atmosphere, piezoelectric effects can lead to changes in the ionosphere, affecting radio signal propagation and GPS accuracy up to altitudes of around 600 km. In space, the impacts are typically observed as changes in ionospheric electron density, detected by satellites in low Earth orbit (LEO), such as those at altitudes up to 1,200 km.
Additional reading:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piezoelectricity
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seismoelectrical_method

Electrokinetic Effects
Electrokinetic effects are electrical phenomena that occur when a fluid (such as groundwater) moves through a porous medium (like soil or rock) under the influence of a pressure gradient. These effects are caused by the movement of ionized fluids through the Earth's subsurface, which can be influenced by tectonic activity, fluid injection, or natural fluid migration. At the surface, electrokinetic effects can alter groundwater flow, impact water supply systems, and cause electrical disturbances in subsurface sensors. In the atmosphere, these effects are less direct but can influence humidity and ionization levels, which may affect weather radar and communication systems. In space, electrokinetic effects are typically not directly observed; however, related ionospheric disturbances from fluid movement in the Earth's crust can be detected by satellites at altitudes up to 1,200 km.
Additional reading:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnetotellurics
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electrokinetic_phenomena

Gravity Anomalies
Gravity anomalies are variations in the Earth's gravitational field caused by differences in the distribution of mass within the Earth. These anomalies are caused by subsurface geological structures such as mountains, valleys, fault lines, and varying rock densities. On the surface, gravity anomalies can affect precise geodetic measurements, influence surveying accuracy, and impact construction projects that rely on gravitational data. In the atmosphere, gravity anomalies can slightly influence the flight paths of aircraft and atmospheric satellites, but these effects are generally minimal. In space, gravity anomalies are detected by satellites like the GRACE mission at altitudes of around 500 km, affecting satellite orbit calculations and providing data on Earth's subsurface structures and water distribution.
Additional reading:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gravity_anomaly
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouguer_anomaly
3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free-air_gravity_anomaly

4. The impact of fault lines on UFOs.

Disturbances related to stress-induced piezoelectric effects, electrokinetic effects, and gravity anomalies have been observed and recorded at various altitudes. Here are some notable examples across different categories:
A) Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects

• High-altitude Observations: Piezoelectric effects typically influence ground-based systems such as power grids and sensors. There is limited data on their direct impact at high altitudes. However, atmospheric electrical phenomena, such as changes in the ionosphere related to seismic activity, have been noted up to several hundred kilometers above the Earth's surface. These are often detected by satellites in low Earth orbit.

B) Electrokinetic Effects

• High-altitude Observations: Electrokinetic effects primarily affect subsurface and near-surface fluid dynamics. There is no significant evidence of direct electrokinetic phenomena being observed at high altitudes. However, related atmospheric effects, such as changes in humidity or ionization, can indirectly influence atmospheric layers.

C) Gravity Anomalies

• High-altitude Observations: Gravity anomalies have been detected at high altitudes, including by aircraft and satellites. Gravity Recovery and Climate Experiment (GRACE) satellites, for example, operate at altitudes of approximately 500 km and have provided detailed maps of gravity anomalies across the Earth.

Specific High-altitude Observations

1. Ionospheric Disturbances Related to Seismic Activity:
   
   • Altitude: Up to 600 km.
   • Impact: Changes in electron density in the ionosphere, detected by satellites.
2. Gravity Anomalies Detected by GRACE Satellites:
   
   • Altitude: Approximately 500 km.
   • Impact: Detailed mapping of Earth's gravity field, revealing variations due to tectonic and other geological processes.

Summary

• Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects: Up to ionospheric altitudes (~600 km) via indirect atmospheric electrical phenomena.
• Electrokinetic Effects: Primarily near-surface, with no significant direct high-altitude observations.
• Gravity Anomalies: Up to satellite altitudes (~500 km), with significant observations by GRACE and similar missions.

Reports say that the navigational apparatus of UFOs can be impacted by energy fields, implying this plays a role in their crashing. Similar claims revolved around electromagnetic fields.

5. Why would UFOs avoid "Diablo Canyon"?

We need to know which one it is. The most likely based on the intersection of fault lines; fault lines with impacts; and near proximity to notable UFO-related locations--Vandenburg and Los Alamos--leaves us with New Mexico and the nuclear power planet.
Here are all nearby relevant fault lines for each.
This section took a substantial amount of digging/cross referencing over weeks. I had begun this for a fiction/story idea that didn't pan out, and did not save the litany of sources I read. This is a summary.

A) Diablo Canyon Power Plant, California

• Hosgri Fault Zone

  • Location: Offshore, running parallel to the coast near the power plant.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Documented near Avila Beach and Montaña de Oro State Park.
    • Relative Strength: Moderate compared to other equivalent faults in California, such as the San Andreas Fault. The presence of quartz in the fault gouge enhances the piezoelectric effect, making it comparable to effects observed in the Garlock Fault.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: Recorded near Diablo Canyon Power Plant and Morro Bay.
    • Relative Strength: Comparable to electrokinetic effects seen in the Hayward Fault in California due to similar fluid movement dynamics.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Detected offshore near Point Buchon and Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
    • Relative Strength: Significant compared to other coastal fault zones, with variations similar to those found in the Cascadia Subduction Zone.

• San Andreas Fault

  • Location: Approximately 10 miles inland from the power plant at its closest point.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Parkfield, California and Hollister, California.
    • Relative Strength: High, as the San Andreas Fault is one of the most studied and active fault lines globally. The piezoelectric effects are significant and comparable to those seen in other major fault systems worldwide.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: San Juan Bautista, California and Carrizo Plain National Monument.
    • Relative Strength: Significant, due to extensive fluid movement and high seismic activity. Comparable to effects observed in the Wasatch Fault Zone.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Palmdale, California and San Bernardino, California.
    • Relative Strength: Very high, with anomalies providing critical insights into fault mechanics. Similar to those in the New Madrid Seismic Zone.

• Shoreline Fault

  • Location: Discovered in 2008, runs very close to the plant, offshore and parallel to the coastline.
  • Length: Approximately 25 miles.
  • Within 5 miles: The Shoreline Fault comes within 5 miles of the Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Nearshore areas close to Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
    • Relative Strength: Potential effects are moderate, with less documentation compared to major faults.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: Offshore areas near the power plant.
    • Relative Strength: Comparable to minor faults in coastal regions.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Offshore near Diablo Cove.
    • Relative Strength: Minor, indicating subtle density changes.

• Los Osos Fault

  • Location: Within 10 miles of the power plant.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Los Osos Valley.
    • Relative Strength: Minor compared to major faults but notable within the local context.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: Areas with significant groundwater flow near Los Osos.
    • Relative Strength: Comparable to small, groundwater-rich fault zones.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Los Osos Valley.
    • Relative Strength: Minor anomalies detected.

B) Diablo Canyon, New Mexico

• Embudo Fault

  • Location: Within 20 miles of Diablo Canyon.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Near Dixon and Pilar, New Mexico.
    • Relative Strength: Moderate compared to other faults in the Rio Grande Rift. Similar effects to those observed in the East African Rift.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: Near Embudo, New Mexico.
    • Relative Strength: Moderate, consistent with other active rift zones with significant groundwater interaction.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Near the town of Española, New Mexico.
    • Relative Strength: Significant, providing insight into the rift's complex tectonic structure. Comparable to anomalies in the Basin and Range Province.

• Pajarito Fault

  • Location: Within 20 miles of Diablo Canyon.
  • Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
    • Specific Locations: Near Los Alamos, New Mexico.
    • Relative Strength: High, due to active seismicity and the presence of stress.
  • Electrokinetic Effects
    • Specific Locations: Near White Rock, New Mexico.
    • Relative Strength: Significant, due to active groundwater flow in the region.
  • Gravity Anomalies
    • Specific Locations: Near Los Alamos National Laboratory.
    • Relative Strength: Notable, with detailed mapping providing insights into fault mechanics.

6. Conclusion

Simply, some variables on the navigational systems of the UFO craft which rely on precise 4-dimensional mapping for their navigational system, with implied near real time adjustments across all parameters, are negatively impacted by unexpected or significant enough to not be able to compensate for impacts from native Earth effects generated by tectonic plate actions, in specific key locations.
I'd often suspected if there was something like this related to the handful of known crashes, and them seeming to be concentrated in certain areas. With this leaker, we see another few possible pieces of a puzzle filling.
Are they legitimate? We obviously can't tell, today. But this new data sure does align with:

1. Reports of the USA trying to "bait" UFOs.
2. Reports of the USA utilizing nuclear facilities to this end.
3. UFO engagement with nuclear sites.
4. UFOs reportedly avoiding certain areas, not limited to prior crash locations.
5. UFOs reportedly being seen over time in the same places or repeated routes/locations.
6. The USA getting big into gravity research along these lines (gravity scanners for military).
7. Elizondo references to LIGO.
8. And more beyond, that I'm sure more of you can recite from memory than I could.

Maybe this has some part of the genesis of the mythology of ley lines, because ancient humans couldn't possibly on their own know all these things. Were they just energetically charged fault lines that had some manner of intersection over time with UFOs?
If anyone wants to run with this or research equivalent sites in other parts of the world and their intersection with UFOs/UAPs, this may be a worthwhile rabbit hole for pursuit.

Pre-emptive TL;DR: Is joining the Air Force Reserves with the primary purpose of receiving tech school training that will land me a good full-time job a viable strategy, and if so, which AFSC's would be the best choices for me to achieve this goal?
I'm 36 years old, married, no kids, in the Atlanta, GA area.
I've been a cop for the last 12 years. I quit a few months ago because almost every time someone else quit or was fired, I was given their job to do in addition to my own, and I was on-call 24/7 and receiving an average of 19 calls per week, mostly during the middle of the night (for no pay)... I was covering 4 full-time different job roles at the time I quit. I covered a minimum of at least two separate full-time jobs my entire last year at that department.
I haven't been able to find a decent job since I quit. I'm making some money doing remote part-time work, but it's not enough, and I'm honestly extremely bored not having enough to do day-to-day. I've been a damn good house husband and my yard and property look great, but I need to get out of this house more often. I made almost $100k last year, and I'm routinely getting rejected for jobs even at $50k or lower. I have extensive experience leading and managing people and units, but it doesn't seem to matter since I don't have any private sector experience. I really don't want to return to law enforcement at all, because my experience, training, and skillset prevent me from being able to stay where I actually enjoy policing, which is patrolling on the streets. I'm not originally from the Atlanta area - I grew up 2 hours from here. I can get a job easily back in my hometown from all the connections I made over the years, but that's too far to commute and it would be financially irresponsible to sell my house here and buy a new one there due to the interest rate climb and all the remodeling I've done in my current home.
I'm considering the Air Force Reserves because 1. I literally have nothing else going on and could easily accommodate the time away at basic training and tech school and 2. I'm hoping if I choose the right AFSC that after tech school I could get hired for a full-time job based on the training from the tech school for that AFSC. I'm aware that there are also full-time roles for Air Force Reserves, but I'm assuming those are difficult to get, especially for someone without prior active-duty service. 3. I want to stay in my house in the Atlanta area for the long term, but I can't sit around applying to infinite jobs for an indefinite period of time. Being away for basic training and tech school is fine, as long as I'm not moving away for good.
My wife is on board with this idea, so there wouldn't be any conflict there. I'm in good shape and health, and have always considered the annual police PT to be a joke, so there are no issues there. I'd love to go active-duty if I hadn't bought a house here 2 years ago. My wife works remotely, so it would be feasible, but the biggest appeal that joining the Reserves offers is the fact that we could stay in our current house instead of moving every few years. We have discussed the possibility of me being activated and deployed, and that's something we can handle if it comes to it, but that's much better than the guaranteed moves that going active-duty would require. If I do join the Reserves, I would be signing up with every intention of doing at least 20 years. I do have a 4-year degree in Education, but from what I've read so far, getting a commissioned officer spot as a civilian seems highly unlikely, especially since I don't have any degree, let alone an advanced degree, in any of the appropriate fields, so I'm only looking at enlisted AFSC's.
Based on everyone's experience, do y'all think that I could use Air Force Reserves tech school to get a decent full-time job?
If so, what AFSC would you recommend as the best path toward a good job? I don't even care what I do at this point, I just want to work, preferably in a career field where I can start at $50k or more with room to grow towards $75-90k in the next five years. I'm interested in cyber security, and being close to the airport in Atlanta I feel like something regarding aircraft repair and maintenance might make sense for me to find a quick job, but I truly just want a new career and don't care what it is. I'm hoping some of you have enough experience with yourselves, friends, or people in your units to provide some insight on which AFSC choices yield the best results on the job market.
I'm considering the following AFSC's:
2T2X1 - Air Transportation - Could potentially land me a job at an airport.
1P0X1 - Aircrew Flight Equipment - Could potentially land me a job at an airport.
2T3X7 - Fleet Management - Could potentially help land me a job with a shipping or trucking company.
2T1X1 - Ground Transportation - Could potentially help land me a warehouse or mechanic job.
6C0X1 - Contracting - Could potentially help land me a job with a construction company.
3E5X1 - Engineering - Could potentially help land me a job with a construction or surveying company.
6F0X1 - Financial Management and Comptroller - Could potentially land me a job in HR for a number of companies or as an auditor or in a financing company.
3F0X1 - Personnel - Could potentially land me a job in HR.
1D7X1 - Cyber Security - Could potentially land me a job in Cyber Security or IT Helpdesk.
1B4X1 - Cyber Warfare Operations - Could potentially land me a job in Cyber Security or IT Helpdesk.
1N4X1 - Cyber Intelligence Analyst - Could potentially land me a job in Cyber Security or IT Helpdesk.
9S100 - Scientific Applications Specialist - Could potentially land me a job in a federal or state crime lab (I have extensive experience in forensic evidence collection and analysis from my law enforcement career, too, but mostly on-the-job training)
3E0X2 - Electrical Power Production - Could potentially land me a job as an electrician.
3E0X1 - Electrical Systems - Could potentially land me a job as an electrician.
3E1X1 - Heating, Ventilation, Air Conditioning, and Refrigeration - Could potentially land me a job in HVAC.
3E2X1 - Pavements and Construction Equipment - Could potentially land me a job with a construction or paving company.
3E3X1 - Structural - Could potentially land me a job with a construction company.
2T3X1 - Mission Generation Vehicular Equipment Maintenance - Could potentially land me a job as a mechanic.
2T3X7 - Vehicle Management - Could potentially land me a job as a mechanic.
2A6X6 - Aircraft Electrical and Environmental Systems - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A6X4 - Aircraft Fuel Systems - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A6X5 - Aircraft Hydraulic Systems - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A3X3 - Tactical Aircraft Maintenance - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A7X1 - Aircraft Metals Technology - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A7X3 - Aircraft Structural Maintenance - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
2A7X2 - Nondestructive Inspection - Could potentially land me a job at an airport or aircraft production/repair facility.
1C7X1 - Airfield Management - Could potentially land me a job at an airport.
4V0X1 - Optometry - Could potentially land me a job at an optometry office.
4P0X1 - Pharmacy Technician - Could potentially land me a job at a pharmacy.
5J0X1 - Paralegal - Could potentially land me a job at a law firm.
Clearly, I'm not being picky here. Just to reiterate, I would be staying in the Reserves for 20 years unless circumstances dictated otherwise. I'm more than happy to put in the monthly/annual training in addition to a full-time job. I'm aware that I'd likely be far older than most or all of the others in basic training and that I'd be measured by expectations geared towards me being a decade or more younger than I actually am. My parents talked me out of the military twice (after high school and after college), so I've always been interested. I've served my local communities for over a decade, and now I'm looking to serve my country while also leveraging that service into a new career.
I plan on talking to a recruiter soon, but I'd rather have a good understanding of how I want to proceed prior to doing so, and I'd also like to narrow the above list down. Are any of the above AFSC choices likely to lead to a decently paying full-time job soon after basic training/tech school? Thanks in advance to everyone for taking the time to read and respond.

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palm, pan, panel, panic, pant, paper, paragraph, parent, park, parking, part, participant, participate, participation, particle, particular, particularly, partly, partner, partnership, party, pass, passage, passenger, passion, past, patch, path, patient, pattern, pause, pay, payment, PC, peace, peak, peer, pen, penalty, people, pepper, per, perceive, percentage, perception, perfect, perfectly, perform, performance, perhaps, period, permanent, permission, permit, person, personal, personality, personally, personnel, perspective, persuade, pet, phase, phenomenon, philosophy, phone, photo, photographer, phrase, physical, physically, physician, piano, pick, picture, pie, piece, pile, pilot, pine, pink, pipe, pitch, place, plan, plane, planet, planning, plant, plastic, plate, platform, play, player, please, pleasure, plenty, plot, plus, PM, pocket, poem, poet, poetry, point, police, policy, political, politically, politician, politics, poll, pollution, pool, poor, pop, popular, population, porch, port, portion, portrait, portray, pose, position, positive, possess, possession, possibility, possible, possibly, post, pot, potato, potential, potentially, pound, pour, poverty, powder, power, powerful, practical, practice, prayer, preach, precisely, predict, prediction, prefer, preference, pregnancy, pregnant, preparation, prepare, prescription, presence, present, presentation, preserve, president, presidential, press, pressure, pretend, pretty, prevent, previous, previously, price, pride, priest, primarily, primary, prime, principal, principle, print, prior, priority, prison, prisoner, privacy, private, probably, problem, procedure, proceed, process, processing, processor, proclaim, produce, producer, product, production, profession, professional, professor, profile, profit, program, progress, progressive, project, prominent, promise, promote, prompt, proof, proper, properly, property, proportion, proposal, propose, prosecutor, prospect, protect, protection, protein, protest, proud, prove, provide, provider, province, provision, psychological, psychology, public, publication, publicity, publish, publisher, pull, punishment, purchase, pure, purpose, pursue, push, put, qualify, quality, quarter, quarterback, quarterly, queen, quest, question, quick, quickly, quiet, quietly, quit, quite, quote, race, racial, radiation, radical, radio, rail, rain, raise, range, rank, rapid, rapidly, rare, rarely, rate, rather, rating, ratio, raw, reach, react, reaction, reader, reading, ready, real, reality, realize, really, reason, reasonable, recall, receive, recent, recently, reception, recipe, recipient, recognition, recognize, recommend, recommendation, record, recording, recover, recovery, recruit, red, reduce, reduction, refer, reference, reflect, reflection, reform, refugee, refuse, regard, regarding, regardless, regime, region, regional, register, regular, regularly, regulate, regulation, regulator, reinforce, reject, relate, relation, relationship, relative, relatively, relax, release, relevant, relief, religion, religious, rely, remain, remaining, remarkable, remember, remind, remote, remove, repeat, repeatedly, replace, replacement, reply, report, reporter, represent, representation, representative, Republican, reputation, request, require, requirement, research, researcher, resemble, reservation, resident, residential, resign, resist, resistance, resolution, resolve, resort, resource, respect, respond, response, responsibility, responsible, rest, restaurant, restore, restriction, result, retain, retire, retirement, return, reveal, revenue, review, revolution, rhythm, rice, rich, rid, ride, rifle, right, ring, rise, risk, river, road, rock, role, roll, romantic, roof, room, root, rope, rose, rough, roughly, round, route, routine, row, rub, rubber, rude, ruin, rule, run, running, rural, rush, Russian, sacred, sad, safe, safety, sake, salad, salary, sale, sales, salt, same, sample, sanction, sand, satellite, satisfaction, satisfied, satisfy, sauce, save, saving, say, scale, scandal, scare, scatter, scenario, scene, schedule, scheme, scholar, scholarship, school, science, scientific, scientist, scope, score, scream, screen, script, sea, search, season, seat, second, secondary, secret, secretary, section, sector, secure, security, see, seed, seek, seem, segment, seize, select, selection, self, sell, Senate, senator, send, senior, sense, sensitive, sentence, separate, sequence, series, serious, seriously, servant, serve, service, session, set, setting, settle, settlement, seven, several, severe, sex, sexual, shade, shadow, shake, shall, shallow, shape, share, sharp, she, sheet, shelf, shell, shelter, shift, shine, ship, shirt, shock, shoe, shoot, shooting, shop, shopping, short, shortly, shot, should, shoulder, shout, show, shower, shrug, shut, shy, sibling, sick, side, sigh, sight, sign, signal, significant, significantly, silence, silent, silver, similar, similarly, simple, simply, sin, since, sing, singer, single, sink, sir, sister, sit, site, situation, six, size, ski, skill, skin, skirt, sky, slave, sleep, slice, slide, slight, slightly, slip, slow, slowly, small, smart, smell, smile, smoke, smooth, snap, snow, so, so-called, soccer, social, society, soft, software, soil, solar, soldier, sole, solid, solution, solve, some, somebody, somehow, someone, something, sometimes, somewhat, somewhere, son, song, soon, sophisticated, sorry, sort, soul, sound, soup, source, south, southern, Soviet, space, Spanish, speak, speaker, special, specialist, species, specific, specifically, specify, speech, speed, spend, spending, spin, spirit, spiritual, split, spoil, sponsor, sport, spot, spray, spread, spring, square, squeeze, stability, stable, staff, stage, stain, stair, stake, stand, standard, standing, star, stare, start, state, statement, station, statistical, status, stay, steady, steal, steel, steep, stem, step, stick, still, stimulate, stimulus, stir, stock, stomach, stone, stop, storage, store, storm, story, straight, strange, stranger, strategic, strategy, stream, street, strength, strengthen, stress, stretch, strike, string, strip, stroke, strong, strongly, structural, structure, struggle, student, studio, study, stuff, stupid, style, subject, submit, subsequent, substance, substantial, substitute, succeed, success, successful, successfully, such, sudden, suddenly, sue, suffer, sufficient, sugar, suggest, suggestion, suicide, suit, summer, summit, sun, super, supply, support, supporter, suppose, supposed, Supreme, sure, surely, surface, surgery, surprise, surprised, surprising, surprisingly, surround, survey, survival, survive, survivor, suspect, sustain, swear, sweep, sweet, swim, swing, switch, symbol, symptom, system, table, tactic, tail, take, tale, talent, talk, tall, tank, tap, tape, target, task, taste, tax, taxi, tea, teach, teacher, teaching, team, tear, technical, technique, technology, teen, teenager, telephone, telescope, television, tell, temperature, temporary, ten, tend, tendency, tennis, tension, tent, term, terms, terrible, territory, terror, terrorist, test, testimony, testing, text, than, thank, thanks, that, the, theater, their, them, theme, themselves, then, theory, therapy, there, therefore, these, they, thick, thin, thing, think, thinking, third, thirty, this, those, though, thought, thousand, threat, threaten, three, throat, through, throughout, throw, thus, ticket, tie, tight, time, tiny, tip, tire, tissue, title, to, tobacco, today, toe, together, toilet, token, tolerate, tomato, tomorrow, tone, tongue, tonight, too, tool, tooth, top, topic, toss, total, totally, touch, tough, tour, tourist, tournament, toward, towards, tower, town, toy, trace, track, trade, tradition, traditional, traffic, tragedy, trail, train, training, transfer, transform, transformation, transition, translate, translation, transmission, transmit, transport, transportation, travel, treat, treatment, treaty, tree, tremendous, trend, trial, tribe, trick, trip, troop, trouble, truck, true, truly, trust, truth, try, tube, tunnel, turn, TV, twelve, twenty, twice, twin, two, type, typical, typically, ugly, ultimate, ultimately, unable, uncle, undergo, understand, understanding, unfortunately, uniform, union, unique, unit, United, universal, universe, university, unknown, unless, unlike, until, unusual, up, upon, upper, urban, urge, us, use, used, useful, user, usual, usually, utility, utilize, vacation, valley, valuable, value, variable, variation, variety, various, vary, vast, vegetable, vehicle, venture, version, versus, very, vessel, veteran, via, victim, victory, video, view, viewer, village, violate, violation, violence, violent, virtually, virtue, virus, visibility, visible, vision, visit, visitor, visual, vital, voice, volume, voluntary, volunteer, vote, voter, voting, wage, wait, wake, walk, wall, wander, want, war, warm, warn, warning, wash, waste, watch, water, wave, way, we, weak, weakness, wealth, wealthy, weapon, wear, weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.

Hey everyone,
With the continuous growth of remote work, I wanted to share some of the best online work ideas for 2024. Whether you're looking to start a side hustle or transition to full-time online work, here are some opportunities to consider:

1. Freelance Writing and Editing: If you have a knack for words, freelance writing and editing can be a lucrative option. Websites like Upwork, Fiverr, and Freelancer offer numerous gigs in various niches.
   
2. Virtual Assistant: Many businesses and entrepreneurs need help with administrative tasks. As a virtual assistant, you can manage emails, schedule appointments, and handle other tasks remotely.
   
3. Online Tutoring and Teaching: With the rise of online education, platforms like VIPKid, Teachable, and Coursera offer opportunities to teach various subjects to students worldwide.
   
4. Social Media Management: Companies and individuals are always looking for help managing their social media presence. If you're good at creating engaging content and growing online communities, this might be for you.
   
5. Graphic Design: If you have a talent for design, you can offer services like logo creation, web design, and more on platforms like 99designs or Canva.
   
6. E-commerce: Starting an online store through platforms like Shopify, Etsy, or Amazon can be a great way to sell products, whether they are handmade crafts, vintage items, or dropshipping goods.
   
7. Content Creation: With platforms like YouTube, Twitch, and TikTok, content creation has become a viable career path. If you have a passion or expertise in a particular area, creating videos or streams can attract a large audience and generate income through ads and sponsorships.
   
8. Affiliate Marketing: By promoting products and earning a commission for every sale made through your referral links, you can make money through your blog, social media, or website.
   
9. Online Surveys and Market Research: While not the most lucrative option, participating in online surveys and market research studies can provide some extra income. Websites like Swagbucks and Survey Junkie are popular choices.
   
10. Software Development and IT Services: If you have skills in coding or IT, there are many remote job opportunities in software development, cybersecurity, and tech support.
    
11. Online Coaching and Consulting: If you have expertise in a particular field, offering coaching or consulting services online can be highly profitable. Platforms like Clarity.fm and Coach.me can help you get started.
    
12. Digital Marketing: Helping businesses grow their online presence through SEO, PPC, email marketing, and other digital strategies is in high demand. Many companies prefer hiring remote digital marketers.
    
13. Remote Customer Service: Companies are increasingly hiring remote customer service representatives. If you have good communication skills and enjoy helping people, this could be a good fit.
    
14. Stock Photography and Videography: If you enjoy photography or videography, selling your work on platforms like Shutterstock, Adobe Stock, and Getty Images can be a great way to earn passive income.
    

Reddit Account: u/Thenn_Applicant
Discord Tag: Garin
Name and House: Dorian Merryweather
Age: 49
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: Dorian's chestnut brown hair has been greying for quite a while, however is short beard retains more color, including a few stray red hairs peppered throughout it. While his features have softened and gained some pudge as he aged past his prime, he remains in overall good shape. This is partly due to his great love of gardening and crop cultivation, which have left his hands and nails rather rough.
Trait: Numerate
Skills: Avaricious (e), Architect, Administrator, Investor
Talents: Language (High Valyrian) Cooking, Gardening
Negative Trait: N/A
Starting Title: Lord of Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Biography:
It has been said; men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war. As such, it begs the question, what does a man have left when he finally tires of war? In pursuit of an answer, of any answer, one half of Dorian Merryweather’s life was spent. He was the second son of Lord Arthor Merryweather of Longtable. Like many others born in a place of natural abundance, he longed for more, for something greater than a mere provincial estate. The tourneys of Highgarden, the hunts of Horn Hill and the books of Oldtown all called to him, and so he could never ride past his father’s mild and verdant fields fast enough. Dorian counted himself lucky not to be the heir, for that meant he could pick where his future lay, unchained from the uninspiring home of his childhood. Instead it was his older brother, Bennard, who envied his free-flying lifestyle, contriving any excuse to join him on his escapades and agurk lessons and ceremonies he ought to have attended.
Lord Arthor was fairly permissive of this deriliction of duties, as the friendships forced on such journeys were worth more than lessons that could be repeated later, or tasks that could be handed off to lowborn stewards. The boys attended tourneys, balls, hunts and feasts, living the life the bards extolled as the height of reachman’s chivalry. The one time they did not shirk their duties was when their father had the honor of hosting King Mern and his court for a tourney on the Warrior’s day. The Merryweather sons would present the king and his family with silver bowls of dilligrout, a most exquisite stew of capons, white wine and almond milk. They had the joy of tasting it once the Gardeners had their fill, a taste they would never forget. On the tournament field three days later, Mern knighted them both, though Dorian was only sixteen at the time, green as a knight could ever be.
Five years later, as news of Aegon Targaryen and his early conquests spread, the lords of the Reach were summoned to Goldengrove, where they found a veritable forest of Westermen’s banners being planted beside their own. The fall of the Storm Kings had led to a whirlwind of diplomacy between the houses of Gardener and Lannister. The plan was presented to the lords with the two kings sitting beside one another on the dais as though they were brothers. They held up Aegon’s letter of demands, scornfully reading it aloud and then proceeded to tear it up to a roaring acclamation from the hall. Standing there before the hall, Mern could hardly be called the Warrior incarnate. There stood a man well past his prime, old enough to be a grandfather and with no great victories to his name, in battle or on the tourney field. All the same, this man, whom they called their king, always seemed to know exactly what to say to win someone over. If he’d declared war on hell itself that evening, the Merryweather brothers would probably still have marched off with him when the next morning dawned. Bennard and Dorian shouted as loud as anyone, death to the foreign upstart. That evening were betrothed to westerwomen they’d never met before, made plans for a real battle, which they had never fought in before, and drank, ate and sang as though the night would last forever. House Merryweather was not able to secure a command, yet King Mern remembered his stay at Longtable fondly. He gave Bennard and Dorian a place in the vanguard, and even adorned Bennard with a brooch of the order of the green hand the morning before the army Goldengrove, a momentous honor which Bennard would cherish for the remainder of his days. He did not have many left, as it turned out. The Field of Fire began like a dream, as the two brothers rode off at the break of dawn, two out of five thousand sets of gleaming armor atop proud warhorses. By the end of the day it had become a nightmare. Caught up in the maelstrom of battle, Dorian did not see the moment when their loss was assured, but the Gods know he could hear it, the creeping, hungry flames that descended on the reachmen like an army of its own. As hundreds were broiled inside their steel plate and thousands more choked on the inferno’s horrible vanguard of black smoke, Bennard and Dorian broke and fled. They were not far behind the retreating Loren Lannister in their escape, but half a minute made all the difference. The lines of fire fanned out, hunting more living things to devour, and engulfed the two brothers. Dorian could feel how the flames spread from his surcoat to his undershirt, all the way down to the hairs on his chest, beginning to sear his skin. In a desperate act he threw himself in the Blackwater, and would have perished if not for the shoddy work of his squire that morning, which left him able to tear off his plate before he could sink. With bloodied, burn-marked fingers, he clung to the roots of a tree by the riverside, water up to his chest. He was retrieved after some time, how long he could not say. For the next two moons his mind was adrift, distracted from his pains by milk of the poppy. The next two were far worse, as he grew more lucid and realized the extent of the damage. A burn-mark stretched from his right thigh, all the way up his chest and left bicep to the apple of his neck. Many times over, flakes of dead or dying skin had to be peeled off by the maester as the scabs kept bursting with blood and clear liquid. By the end of that year he was able to walk again, though the burn mark would leave a feverish red mark across the front of his body, his new skin settling into twisted lines.
Bennard was far worse for wear, alive yet burned all the way to his face and crippled from a fall off his horse. His nose and ear-lobes had to be cut off, too burned to save, and even his eyelids were permanently scarred, unable to sprout new lashes. The more lucid Bennard became, the deeper his sorrow. Eventually he began refusing food. The new lord of Longtable would not eat anything his cooks set in front of him. In spite of his ever present pains, Dorian began going to the kitchens, reprimanding the cooks for their failings. He knew his brother well and knew his palette, and began ordering them to make his brother’s favorites. When he felt they were making mistakes, he interrupted their work himself. He was a stranger to the kitchen, yet would criticize how things were cut too roughly, spiced too little or too much. He was a terror to the cooks, yet they could not refuse him.
His attempts to intervene were however hampered by a newfound aversion to heat. The sound of the hearth, of boiling and searing, the general sense of warmth around him made him nauseous and caused his movements to seize up. Still, he went to his brother’s bedside every day, and afterwards he forced himself back to the kitchens. His sister, Lydia, tried to stop him at first, but soon found her protes fell on deaf ears, and so joined him, if only to leash him in when he went too far. Finally, there was only one dish they hadn’t tried; the dilligrout they’d once served to the late King Mern. Every time it was made, it came out wrong. It soon turned out the cook who had served them that evening six years ago had since retired, and his exact method had never been recorded or taught to anyone else. Dorian would first invite the man to Longtable, then summon him with armed knights when invitations were refused.
Theomar, the man who appeared before him, was a sorry sight, looking frightened and confused as he was taken to his old workplace. It was explained by his sons that he’d been growing senile even six years ago, often snapping at the kitchen maids under him when his memory failed him. Since then he’d gotten worse, seldom eating, let alone cooking. Something in the old man’s eyes did seem to brighten for a moment when the sounds and smells of his old kitchen surrounded him, and Dorian ordered him to make dilligrout. Before long that faint spark had been drowned out by tears. He would start boiling capon or crushing almonds, only to leave the job half-done whenever he had to fetch something new. Serving maids were put at his disposal to bring him ingredients, yet an ingredient ordered would be met with a reprimand as he seemed to forget which dish he was making every few minutes. Finally Dorian snapped at the man, grabbing him by his collar and shouting accusations of treason against House Merryweather. By the time Lydia could restrain him and try to apologize, the man was a wreck on the floor. After watching it for a while, waiting for the man to get up and continue his work, even Dorian was overcome by pity and shame for what he’d done. The old cook was praying to the gods, begging forgiveness for his failings. Dorian began to realize he’d broken a great man down and would himself beg forgiveness. He offered the man his old cook’s quarters back for the rest of his life, and promised his sons that his maester would tend to the man in his old age, that he would be fed from Longtable’s stores.
At this point, he resolved to make the dilligrout himself. Through it all, Bennard was barely clinging to life, or rather being tethered to it by the will of others. He could only be fed when drugged down by the milk of the poppy, and the more often it was used, the less effective it became. Every day Dorian braved the kitchens, yet he could not recreate the flavor of that wonderful night. It was by the grace of the gods, perhaps with Theomar as their vessel, that Dorian would even come close. The old man could no longer cook, but over time he began to wander into the kitchens and sit down on a chair. At first Dorian thought the man only sought the warmth of the hearth for his weary bones, yet he discovered it to be more than that. Theomar’s eyes were like clouded glass, yet they brightened every now and then, hearing almonds being ground, smelling capons searing in fat, as though it was stirring the kitchenmaster of yore back to life. Eventually Dorian began to walk up to the old cook with his ingredients, bidding him to smell or taste small portions. Sometimes he got simple instructions out of it, ‘too coarse’, ‘too sour’, ‘underdone’. Som times a mere nod or frown was all Theomar managed. Over the course of a couple of days, Dorian put together one final attempt to get the dish made rightWhen he arrived in Bennard’s chamber, he was met with a look which brought forth discomfort that no flame could produce in Dorian. Plainly, raspingly, his brother asked him why he wouldn’t let him die. It was easy, Bennard reasoned. All Dorian needed to do was wait and become lord. The words almost made Dorian throw the dilligrout on the floor. Almost. He placed two bowls on Bennard’s table, the dilligrout and one brimming with milk of the poppy. Dorian told his brother to make his choice. If he sought death, Dorian would let him, but he would not hear that it was an easy thing, watching his brother die. That evening, the milk of the poppy was carried away by the maester, the empty bowl of stew taken to be washed in the kitchens. From then on, Bennard ate what his brother brought him without complaint. He lasted just into the new year, dying on its tenth day. In the predawn gloom of the twelfth, Theomar died in his sleep
Dorian took up his lordly task joylessly. His old wanderlust returned, spurred by the horrible memories that now stained Longtable and the reach itself in his mind. The final straw came when their new Tyrell overlords, insisted on him marrying a lady from a dornish house. His previous betrothal had fallen through, as the parents of his western bride had not wished to draw the ire of the Targaryens by maintaining an old alliance meant to oppose them. Instead of obliging, he boarded a ship from Oldtown going east. It stopped only briefly in Planky Town before going to Tyrosh. Noting him to be a nobleman, a few of the city’s wealthy men would host him for a while, though they quickly lost interest when his lack of knowledge of trade became apparent. After that, he spent time in the markets and squares where the common people lived. His old curiosity was piqued, and he decided to embark on a quest of learning, fashioning himself another Lomas Longstrider. He moved on to Myr, and the experience was much the same in broad strokes, a few rich men showed interest and quickly lost it. As he’d visited the dye markets he went to see the city’s famous artisans at work. One thing was notably different, he met a Tyroshi woman with green-dyed hair, going by the name Maryah. She was a trader, and the two had taken the same ship to Myr. She had been to Myr before and showed him many of its secrets. They spent an entire day in one of the vast delicacy markets so she could show him the many tastes of the city. Having no plans in advance, he asked where she was headed next.
Without a second thought he would join her on a journey to Lys. He soon understood it to be a test. It was not long before she teased him, speculating he’d only joined her for a chance to see the famous pleasure houses. Evening after evening they stayed in the city and Maryah would tease and test him over the matter. Finally he told her he’d renounce his betrothal for her, that there was no one else in his eye. She laughed, replying he would not have to. The next morning, Dorian awoke to find that she was already up, the green washed from her black curls. Maryah had in fact been Joanna Dayne, his dornish bride to be, having traveled the same route as him ever since his ship stopped at Planky Town to refill its food and water. She was already quite familiar with the three closest free cities, having served as a dornish envoy on behalf of its spice traders. As they planned their return to Westeros, Joanna asked him what else in the world he wanted to see. Within a few moons of being wed, they left Westeros, not to return for three years.The journey was what his mind needed, away from the Reach, its knights and tapestries, hunts and tourneys. Ultimately, the lords and knights of his homeland, for all their songs and poetry, lived every day in preparation for war, frivolous though the preparations were. Joanna showed him a different world, the remnants of Old Valyria. War was to be sure inescapable. Wherever they went, there were soldiers, tapestries, contests of arms, and yet the cities housed something else as well, a boundless potential for creation, commerce and growth.
Thanks to Joanna Dayne’s knowledge their stays became far better planned, and they could enjoy the hospitality of wealthy locals far longer. She knew how to talk about the spice trade and similar matters, and Dorian began to pick up on it. On their second stay in Myr, he procured a great deal of fine parchment and began taking notes, everything from negotiation tactics and the prices of cloves or red peppers to court customs, as well as more eclectic pieces of knowledge, details of running an eastern estate, descriptions of technological marvels he had never seen in Westeros, and ingredients in the local food. By the time they neared Qarth he had quite the list of recipes, among other things. There he was even able to learn a few all the way from Yi Ti, as some local cooks catered to merchants from the Golden Empire. On their journey home they’d end up taking the opportunity to see the newly made port of King’s Landing. By that time, a third member had joined their journey, their infant daughter Florys. Having left Longtable in the care of his sister and steward for three years, Dorian finally accepted the responsibility of running his ancestral home.
Longtable was considered to rule over some of the best lands in the Reach, ideally situated along the river with abundant soil which could provide two grain harvests in a year. Having seen the estates which supplied the great cities of the east, Dorian was all too aware of its comparative shortcomings. He found that the abundance of the land had a counterproductive effect, breeding complacency and carelessness. From his grandiose tour of the east, he went on a painstaking tour of his own lands, trying to get an overview of everything he ruled over. He paid the citadel a fee to send him half a dozen maesters in training for a season. These young men, literate and numerate, would serve his own maester in conducting a survey of the land, giving Dorian account of all resources at his disposal as lord. The results were quite varied.
Some peasants were found to have remarkable agricultural insights which they had no way of writing down, entirely reliant on passing the knowledge to their children. Knowing the risks of such a method of transferring knowledge, Dorian ordered such insights recorded. In other places there were farmers and communities who were unwittingly exhausting their soil. Instances of lack of fallow land, excessive grazing by cows and lack of crop rotation were also made note of, followed by edicts against such heedless practices. Septons, sheriffs and tax collectors were given written copies and were obliged to read them to the peasantry wherever it was deemed necessary. It also became part of the obligations of farmers to plant a set amount of clover in their fields and pastures, a practice some had taken up on their own but which had already become a standardized law among the estates belonging to Myr and Volantis. Irrigation was expanded and land inheritance was reformed to prevent the splitting of fields past a certain threshold.
Lord Dorian was not always successful. Some eastern ideas had been useful innovations which improved conditions across the board. In time he learned that the peculiarities of the westerosi system were sometimes necessary for the sake of stability, not merely the misshapen fruits of ignorance. His attempt to enclose part of the common lands proved abortive, as it nearly caused a peasant rebellion. A procession of aggrieved smallfolk headed for Longtable had to be dispersed by knights, armed with wooden clubs to prevent needless bloodshed.Two men were hanged and five sent to the wall, but the reform was thereafter abandoned, leading the populace to calm down. Dorian was not much of a military leader and had not wielded weapons since the Field of Fire. He became aware of his need to bolster his forces, a notion reinforced by the establishment of the Black Roses not long after his return, and again with the Kingswood Catastrophe
In the meantime, he and Joanna raised a family together. Three more daughters would be born healthy, with a couple of miscarriages and a stillbirth in between, also a daughter. Their travels did not entirely come to an end. In 13 AC they would tour the northern free cities of Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Braavos and Lorath, which they had missed on their original journey. The lion’s share of 17 AC was spent on a journey to the Summer Islands. At other times they would make shorter journeys around the Seven Kingdoms, where they felt more secure in bringing their older children along. Whether it was visiting Joanna’s family in Dorne, tourneys and feasts in the Reach and West or even one trip to see the wall, a nameday wish by Florys, they were often on the move. Like most of their peers, they frequented Oldtown and Highgarden
The growing rift between the two queens and their children was a situation Dorian would watch with dread in his heart, remembering keenly how a generation of young men had been brought to the field of fire. To his mind, the Targaryen rule ought not go to waste. Like Valyria of old, it had begun with fire and blood, yet similarly peace and prosperity had followed in its wake. If only the dragons could stand united, perhaps another long peace like the one the Freehold once enjoyed could again be established. If not, another century of blood was upon them. Under Dorian, Longtable became a place where he sought to bring together people from across the kingdoms and forge unity over the dinner table, an attitude which somewhat vexed and confounded his more militaristic daughter and heiress, Lady Florys. Even amid her questioning of the viability of his peaceful ways when surrounded by those who would make war, a terrible sight would steel his resolve, watching the Mander burning green, every bit as terrible as the flames from twenty one years prior. That night he made a simple vow, never again.
The League of the Cornucopia, he would name his little group, a gallery of lords and ladies whose acquaintances he’d made over the years. With these fellow gourmets he would share the culinary knowledge he’d gleaned from his journeys in the east and west. Most unusual for a lord of his rank, Dorian came to spend a great deal of time in his kitchens, testing out recipes himself. On occasion, the dishes he served to his guests for these small, intimate gatherings would be the work of his own hands. The membership did vary from time to time, both based on who could make it and who he sought to bring together. Rather than a fully closed circle, the League is more like a form of feasting, only it’s done for a much smaller crowd, without the public spectacle. Such occasions allowed for more refined foods which did not need to be served to hundreds and kept constantly warm over the course of hours like some common tavern stew. It also opened up an arena of more intimate diplomacy and negotiation for those who sought it, hosted on neutral ground by a lordly mediator, free from prying eyes.
Timeline:
25BC: Dorian is born, second in line to Longtable
24BC: His sister Lydia is born
9BC: House Merryweather hosts House Gardener for a tourney and feast. Dorian and his older brother Bennard serve the dish of honor to King Mern Gardener and his family. During the subsequent tourney, Mern knights both boys, despite their inexperience and lack of victory in the tourney
9BC-2BC: Dorian spends much time travelling the reach, attending events
1BC: Dorian and Bennard fight in the vanguard at the Field of Fire. Both are burned, Bennard far more severely than Dorian. Lord Merryweather is killed. Traumatized by the battle and his new maimed body, Bennard starts refusing food. Dorian desperately tries to re-create the dish they served King Mern eight years ago. The cook who made it has since gone senile, but eventually manages to help Dorian re-create it. He is given a place at court as apology for his mistreatment at Dorian's hands before this occurred.
1AC: Lord Bennard dies at the beginning of the year, leaving Dorian as lord of Longtable. His sister Lydia fulfills her betrothal to House Tarly, becoming lady of Horn Hill. At the prospect of marrying a Dornishwoman on the King's orders, Dorian decides to leave Westeros to put off his marriage. In Myr, he meets a woman calling herself Maryah, claiming to be a Tyroshi merchant. They fall in love and travel to Lys together. There Dorian promises to set aside his betrothal for her, whereupon she reveals herself as Joanna Dayne, his dornish betrothed.
1AC-4AC: Dorian and Joanna wed at Longtable, then depart on a new journey of the east. They reach as far as Qarth before turning back home. In 3AC, on the way back, their first child, Florys, is born while the couple are in Volantis, on the way home. They return via the newly built port of King's Landing.
4AC-8AC: Using knowledge from the east, Lord Dorian embarks on a project of rationalizing the agriculture of Longtable
5AC: Dorian and Joanna have their second child, a girl named Ellyn
8AC: Their third daughter, Desmera, is born
13AC: Dorian and Joanna spend a year travelling the northern free cities
14AC: Their fourth and final daughter, Gwin, is born
17AC: Dorian and Joanna undertake a journey to the Summer Islands with their children
23AC: The aftermath of the battle of Stonebridge brings back memories of the Field of Fire, as the Merryweathers watch burning slag run down the Mander
25AC: The Merryweathers travel to the celebration of the maturity of Aegon's sons
Family Tree:
Arthor Merryweather (father, d.1BC)
Cerelle Merryweather (pending family connection) (mother, d.20AC)
Rhea Merryweather (sister b.27BC)
Bennard Merryweather (brother, d.1AC)
Lydia Merryweather (sister, b.24BC)
Glendon Merryweather (uncle, d.1BC)
Myrcella Pommingham (aunt, d.22AC)
Leo Merryweather (cousin, b.13AC)
Joanna Dayne (wife, b.26AC)
Florys Merryweather (daughter, b.3AC)
Ellyn Merryweather (daughter, b.5AC)
Desmera Merryweather (daughter, b.8AC)
Gwin Merryweather (daughter, b.13AC)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Florys Merryweather
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [A short, muscular woman with wavy black hair, normally worn in a bun. She has high cheekbones and a proud demeanor. Her rigid strength stands in contrast to the more relaxed nature of the Merryweather court, one she finds overly lax and casual](0_0.png (896×1344) (discordapp.com))
Trait: Hale
Skills: Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster
Talents: Dancing, Fishing, Cooking
Negative Traits: N/A
Starting Title: Heir to Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Timeline:
3AC: Florys is born in Volantis, while her parents are on their way home from Essos
10AC: Florys starts training under Saathos Trevelyan, her father's Master at Arms
13 AC: She joins her parents on a tour of Pentos, Braavos, Norvos and Qohor
17AC: She travels with her parents to the Summer Islands
19AC-23AC: As she comes of age, Florys becomes more critical of her father's desire for peace, viewing it as increasingly far-fetched amid the increasingly controversial regency and the impending succession dispute. She resolves to make the kinds of connections her father seems unwilling to, in case of war
25AC: She accompanies her family to the celebrations
NPCS:
Ser Leo Merryweather (Age: 37, Archetype: Magnate) Lord Merryweather's first cousin, he has become an indispensable agent in the daily running of Longtable. Despite his foppish demeanor and aparent laziness, he is highly capable and loyal in his task of increasing his family's fortune. He remains happily unwed
Saathos Tevelyan: (Age:48, Archetype: Master at Arms) The son of a Lysene father and a Myrish mother, Saathos initially sought a career in amongst Myr's military officers, however his family's relatively low status proved an impediment to further promotion, later compounded by a dispute with a superior. He met Lord Merryweather in 3AC and eventually travelled West to offer his services five years later, finding his career progress stonewalled in his home city. Well into middle age, he still looks firm and imposing as profesisonal a soldier ought to

First off I want to say I have been one of the defenders of the game, and I'm glad I was, because it's an excellent game now, and it's only going to get better.
The main controversy is of course, exploration.
It's controversial only because people expect certain things from a Bethesda game, like a dedicated world map to explore. And in this game which is brand new IP - there is no world map.
Let's just state that again, because as far as I can tell, it is not sinking in for most people.
Starfield has no world map.
Todd gave an interview recently (Kinda Funny) and Bryan gave an interview near launch (MinMax) and in both those interviews if you listen carefully they said what effectively amounts to exploration not being the priority with Starfield.
Procgen is side content. You are not meant to explore these generic procgen tiles as a replacement for the Boston Commonwealth or Skyrim. It couldn't possibly be that...
If you literally click a random pixel on a planet, generate the procgen tile, then go and painstakingly study every rock on that tile, there is a very good chance (roughly 100%) that you will get bored. Bethesda could not possibly have intended you to do that. My opinion is they let people think it was an exploration game because of corporate pressure from above, it's bad PR if Todd had outright said "it's not an exloration game - stick with Fallout if you want that."
So, if Starfield can be called an exploration game at all (and it's debatable) then here is my (possibly eccentric) interpretation of how exploration is supposed to be done. At this point, I'm going to sound a bit patronizing but I want to be clear I am not insulting anyones intelligence, I also want this to be a mini guide for newbys to the game so they don't get confused and disillusioned like so many have. Bethesda probably made the game too open, but as Todd said in his last interview (Kinda Funny) they "want the game to say yes to you."
Ok, so the main exploration in Starfield is done from the cockpit - except - it's actually done through the menu...
Yeah, you go to the Star Map, click on a random star and jump to it. From there you have a look in your System Map (one level down from Star Map) and you are looking for these little encounter markers on the map. There is a ship, asteroids, sensor contact, hostile activity... Possibly others, and no doubt more will be added. You then fly to it and have the encounter.
Also, if you look at planets and moons, notice some have three dots (...) on them - that means there is a POI on that planet pre populated for you to investigate. Sometimes it is a civilian structure (fracking, outpost), sometimes it is a structure defended by a hostile faction (abondoned weapons lab, etc). You then land at it, take a good look around at the lovely planet tile (and that's it... not spend 16hrs exploring...) go to your POI, murder everyone and go...
So, from that, you can say that it is primarily about space exploration which then potentially advances into on-foot exploration. This approach requires you to self-moderate your gameplay...
Look at it another way. I am not very knowledgable about Sci Fi generally but one show I have watched a lot was Star Trek Next Generation. I think Starfield gameplay is meant to flow like Next Generation...
Picard says "warp to..." there is a cutscene of the ship warping - another of the ship reaching it's destination... The crew member says "sir, our scans show..." - Picard says "hmm... let's investiate - divert power to shields..." cutscene of the ship leaving destination - and of the ship arriving at it's new destination with the encounter in front of them...
If they go down to the surface it's "beam me down..." then when they arrive, you take in the vista of the alien world - but only for a moment - not for 20 hours... otherwise it'll get boring... After they scan or shoot stuff, they say "beam me up" and they are back on the ship drinking boba tea.
So the procgen tile serves the following purposes, in order:
-Visual background for the poi you spotted from space.
-Area for you to build your outpost on.
-Area for surveying.-
-Area for random exploration.
So in my opinion people exploring the tiles were basically "playing it wrong." Now you could come back and say "ahh but Bethesda are the developer, it's is their job to guide the player, etc" I won't argue with any of that. The fact that there was so much controversy certainly implies that Bethesda did something wrong.
But let's look at what they did right? If you like exploring the POI's, and I consider them among Bethesda's best work. Then you can do the above method or even better, take the radiant quests from the Mission Boards and it actually tells you which POI the enemy is occupying. I have a spreadsheet and I'm working my way through the POIs. I take the bounty only if it is situated at a POI that I haven't visited or feel like doing. The POIs are incredibly well designed, in my opinion.
So with all that said, how do I think this system can be improved upon? And as I said, I reject the idea of the game being fundamentally broken - that is just people who wish it was Fallout 4 or Skyrim. They wish they were playing a different type of game. Well, God did not command Bethesda to make pure open-world exploration games centred on a dedicated world map. They made a different type of game, perhaps it requires a different mental approach... I admit, in order to enjoy STarfield I have to self-moderate my play a bit...
Ok, here are my suggestions.
1. Have a fixed position for all the POI's, spread accross the galaxy. So you can definitely find them all.
2. Give all POI's and varients unique names (not simply "Civilian Outpost").
3. Have a compendium, captains log, library - something, to chronicle your exploration.
4. Make it possible to grav-jump without entering the menu, with a hotkey - and be notified if there are encounters.
5. Make ship modules like brig and infirmary work, and fuel costs (already available via mods).
tldr; Starfield is not Fallout. If you are playing it like Fallout - you ARE playing it wrong.

Republic 7^th Fleet, Centaurus Sector, 407 light years from Earth
RSS Vercingetorix, Independence-Class Carrier, 2174 A.D.
Vice-Admiral Mei Zhou had just finished making the final changes to the fleet’s reconnaissance patrol routes with her senior staff when the comm panel on her desk chirped, displaying an incoming comm request from Admiral Thompson. She quickly thumbed the pad being offered by her aide so that he could issue the orders they were just working on and turned to the rest of her staff. “Nice job, people. Let’s get to work. Dismissed.” As the staff filed out the door, she started entering the codes needed to decrypt the incoming comm channel and looked up to make sure the room was empty. She pressed the open channel icon, and Admiral Thompson’s holo image appeared in front of her desk, ending just below his waist and making it seem as if he was actually there, sitting.
“Mei, how’s your new ship treating you?” he asked, smiling. “She is an absolute beauty, Karl. I still can’t believe that she is mine.” She responded, returning his smile. “What can I do for you, Karl?” Thompson chuckled, and his holo image leaned back as he reclined in his chair. “Straight to business; I always liked that about you, Mei. Alright, here we go. We have received intelligence reports that the Commonwealth has begun evacuating one of their last remaining coreward periphery worlds that is now dangerously close to the expanded Insectoid border. We have also received an update from our spy drones in that same region that six Hive ships and almost four hundred cruisers that were patrolling their side of that border area have disappeared. This is too much of a coincidence, and I want you to detach a combat patrol and send them there.” Thompson finished speaking, and a flashing icon popped up on her comm panel, indicating that she had just received new orders. She tapped it and quickly scanned the new orders as the admiral waited. She looked up at his holo image. “Karl, I acknowledge receipt of the new orders and will implement them. Between me and you, why are we getting involved with this? The Commonwealth has a navy, and they should be fighting to protect their space. We can’t keep coming to the rescue and defending their members; we are already spread too thin as it is.”
Thompson nodded his head in agreement. “Mei, I agree with you in principle, but there are social and political considerations involved here. The near extinction of the V’rni has caused considerable turmoil among the citizens of the Republic. They know logically that we could not have stopped such an attack like that one, but the perceived failure to protect them or prevent the attack still weighs heavily on their souls. The Commonwealth is currently attempting to evacuate the Jaleen system, and they are one of the last surviving members that voted yes before our petition to join the Commonwealth was denied. It also doesn’t help that the Jaleeni are avowed pacifists and look like bipedal Newfoundland dogs. They are technically a bear-like species, but to humans, they look like humanoid dogs, and the government is unwilling to lose the popular support it currently enjoys by allowing the Jaleeni to be exterminated. I mean, look at these guys.”
Another flashing icon popped up on her screen a moment later, and she pressed it. It turned into a hologram depicting a typical Jaleeni family of a mother and father with a litter of six pups, and she couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the photo. They were wearing their traditional rough-spun linen clothes that made them look like dogs cosplaying as monks. They looked adorable, and she felt her heart melt while staring into their deep brown eyes, which looked sad. She understood the reasoning behind it, especially after the mass extinctions that occurred in Earth’s biosphere because of World War 3.
After the war, humanity had an awakening when they surveyed their destroyed world and came to terms with the disappearance of thousands of species and the near extinction of thousands of others. What followed were three generations of desperate measures to salvage what remained and a worldwide effort at habitat restoration and de-extinction efforts utilizing a wide array of methods such as back-breeding, cloning, and genome editing. Dogs were almost driven to extinction by the war as they were uniquely susceptible to the BioChem weapons that were developed and refined by the Eastern Coalition animal testing on poor innocent canine subjects. Between the Biochem weapons, owner deaths, abandonment, and starvation, almost 90% of the domesticated canine population and entire breeds were lost by the war’s end. Cats fared much better, but they still suffered a loss of almost half of their pre-war population, and a large percentage of the survivors reverted to a feral state. The result of all of this was an almost religious reverence for the preservation of sentient animal life on human worlds and a somewhat fanatical tendency of humans to take on the mantle of guardians for sapient alien species that resembled animals to them.
“Karl, I understand; I do. I just don’t like the fact that we are operating on so many fronts. Some of our fleets and task forces are patrolling areas far enough away that I worry about them getting reinforcements on time if they are attacked, and now my fleet is being partitioned to send a combat patrol almost three hundred light-years away from our current position. After the assault on the V’rn system, half of our combat power was recalled to Republic space to prevent the same thing from happening to us, and yet we are still being tasked with properly defending Eleani and Xenxin territory with half the ships we had before. Have they lost their damn minds at HQ?” She realized she was almost yelling at the admiral, and Mei took a deep breath, recognizing that her outburst was unbecoming of a Republic naval officer. She attempted to quickly apologize to Admiral Thompson. “Karl, I’m sorry that was uncalled for-“
The admiral raised a hand to stop her, an amused expression in his eyes. “Mei, I said the exact same thing to my boss as you did almost verbatim, and not as diplomatically as you, I might add. My concerns were addressed to my satisfaction, and I think yours will be when you get to your destination. There will be a task force joining you there, and I think you will be pleased. That is all I can say for now over the comms. You will lead the combat patrol to the coordinates listed in the orders you received, and the task force joining you there will fall under your command. I have a personal favor to ask of you. Please keep an open mind when you link up with the task force. You will rendezvous with Commodore Therax, and he is instrumental in our efforts to undermine the increasingly despotic Commonwealth government. More information about him and the Nekuli were added to your orders, make sure you review it. I took a big gamble on this, and I would be grateful if you did your best to make this collaboration work. That is all for now, and I wish you and your crews good fortune and godspeed, Mei. Take care of yourself.” The admiral finished speaking, and Mei noted the personal nature of his last few words, nodding an affirmative to his request.
“Admiral, I thank you for your words, and we won’t let you down. I need to issue the orders now to get there and link up with the task force on time. I’ll send a null space comm drone to the nearest relay to confirm our arrival and integration. Vice-admiral Zhou out.” As she leaned towards the comm panel to close the channel, she saw Admiral Thompson doing the same, and he gave her a wink and a mischievous smile before she pressed the icon, terminating the connection. She leaned back in her chair and blew out a deep breath. “Now what the hell was that all about?” She asked out loud to herself, as the confusing and secretive nature of her orders and the personal request of the admiral added to the uncertainty of what she was expected to do. She keyed her wrist pad and texted her aide to come back to her office for new orders. He was going to be livid that they just wasted half a day revising the patrol routes to maximize efficiency and increase their patrol range. A small smile crossed her lips as she waited. He had an obvious tell of his lower left eyelid spasming when he was mad despite displaying no emotions on his face, and she knew it drove him nuts that he couldn’t control it. Witnessing it was one of the small joys she had in her difficult job as vice-admiral, and she was looking forward to it.
Fifty-six hours later, her task force flashed out of null space at the designated coordinates and right on time. She felt a measure of pride as she watched her bridge crew go about confirming their location and verifying it with the navigational array and astrometric sensors. Once the navigator gave her confirmation that he verified their position, she turned towards the comms officer and ordered her to send a burst transmission with the pre-arranged code and waited for the response. A few seconds later, the comms officer raised her left hand and signaled receipt and confirmation of the code by the task force waiting in null space. An agonizingly long minute crawled along as she anxiously waited for her navigator to confirm the telemetry from his counterpart in the other task force as they verified their positions. The navigator activated the main viewscreen on the forward bulkhead as they waited. Suddenly, there were a multitude of exit flashes 200,000 kilometers from the bow of her carrier, and hundreds of warships appeared at a dead stop relative to her position.
Her jaw dropped as she took in the unexpected fleet in front of her. There were dozens of Commonwealth dreadnaughts, battleships, and heavy cruisers arrayed before her, as well as an additional one hundred and twenty light cruisers, destroyers, and missile frigates. On the flanks of the main formation, there were more exit flashes, and the bridge AI started categorizing them on the screen, and she saw that they were the new Eleani and Xenxin warships that she had been hearing about. They shared a design lineage with the Commonwealth ships, but there were definite differences that became obvious as they assumed their positions next to the Commonwealth navy ships. She was particularly intrigued by the Xenxin ships, as they seemed to be bristling with weapons, almost excessively so relative to their ship sizes. The Eleani ships seemed to have taken a different design philosophy, and they gave the impression of deadly speed and grace, and she was hard-pressed to spot any obvious weapons on their hulls despite the AI confirming that the ships were indeed well-armed.
There was another coded signal from null space that appeared on the comm station panel, and her comm officer turned to her. “Vice-admiral, we have received a coded message on the sigma frequency for your eyes only that requires biometric and voice verification to decrypt.” Zhou nodded and pressed a button on her arm panel, activating the privacy screen around her chair and feeling the pressure change as the bridge around her became opaque and silent. She pressed the biometric toggle on the panel, and a retinal scanner popped out of its alcove on the side. She leaned in and scanned her right eye first, then her left. An icon appeared on the screen, and she thumbed it as it flashed and confirmed the print. Finally, she spoke and addressed the bridge AI: “Suzy, please confirm the voice command for verification.” The AI answered immediately. -Of course, Vice-Admiral Zhou, please proceed.- “Zhou, one-red-seven-green-four-tango-alpha-zero. Execute.” -Voice command verified. Thank you, Vice-Admiral Zhou.-
A small holographic display popped up in front of her; the admiral appeared on the screen, and his pre-recorded message started playing. “Mei, I know all this cloak and dagger stuff seems excessive, but we couldn’t take any chances. The receipt of this message will activate a program in your bridge AI and allow it to take control of the new drone ships waiting for you in null space. They are a new class of upgraded null ships and are top secret. Your AI will anchor them to your task force, and they will follow you, remaining hidden in null space unless you absolutely need them.”
“There are also two troopships with them that are carrying a complement of two thousand Mark XII ATS Bio-Synths and an expeditionary brigade each of rangers and pathfinders in stasis. They are also to remain in null space unless circumstances require that you need them; they are an insurance policy for an ongoing mission in Insectoid space. The details of that are top secret as well and can be accessed with your AI. If the troopships are required for that mission, they are to be escorted by a detachment of null ships and sent there immediately. After you have met your task force counterpart, there are orders in this packet that are to be accessed by you both and executed. I have the utmost faith in you, Mei, and I can’t wait to take you out to dinner again when we can both coordinate our next leave together. Thompson out.”
The hologram message disappeared, and she waited a little longer to allow the blush from his last sentence to fade from her cheeks and suppress the smile that was trying to form on her face before she put on her command mask and lowered the privacy screen. The bridge crew was going about their usual tasks, trying hard not to seem interested in her top-secret message. “Comms, open a channel to the task force flagship, please.” The comm officer acknowledged the order, and a few seconds later, the Bridge of the Commonwealth flagship appeared on the viewscreen.
A Nekuli male was sitting in the command chair, resplendent in the uniform favored by Nekuli officers. He took a moment to look around her bridge before settling his eyes on her. He bowed his head slowly in a gesture of respect, which she returned in proper fashion. The proper courtesies having been observed, he raised his eyes to meet with hers and started speaking. “Vice-Admiral Zhou. May the ancestors grant you and your clan honor and good fortune. I am deeply honored to meet you, and I hope our integration is a successful endeavor. I now entrust the honor of myself and my crew to your safekeeping.” He remained stone still as he awaited her reply, and she tried to remember the proper return greeting that she had been studying during their trip here.
“Commodore Therax, the honor is mine, and I promise you that I shall never ask you or your crew to undertake any action that will bring dishonor to your clans and your ancestors. We are now joined as one; may our cause be just and pure.” She finished the response, and the gravity of what she just promised to someone she had never met before hit her hard; it felt almost sacred to her. Commodore Therax heard her proper reply, and he stood up, followed by the rest of his bridge crew. He addressed her again. “Our honor has been given, and we have received a promise to safeguard it in return. Our joining is now consecrated in the eyes of the ancestors, and you are now our clan leader. What are your orders?
She recovered from the ordeal of the emotionally charged exchange of vows and stood up to give her first order as clan leader to the Nekuli. “I request the presence of you and your senior staff aboard my ship tonight. I will prepare a feast to honor our new friendship and alliance. I have studied your cuisine, and I have found a selection of Earth cuisine that should suit your taste. It is called tartare and sashimi; I think you will like it.” Commodore Therax looked at her dubiously, and she had to stifle a laugh at his expression as she knew that he was imagining being forced to eat vegetables and overcooked meat out of politeness. She spoke quickly to assuage his fears. “Commodore, tartare, and sashimi are raw red meat and fish; I would never inflict vegetables and burnt meat on you or your crew; are we not friends?”
As his translator finished converting her words into his language, he smiled at her, baring all of his fangs in true happiness.