Our Space Opera Goes Rolling Along . . .
Apr. 2nd, 2019 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gridloreThe book I'm working on is a grand political space opera drawn heavily from the life of Charles-Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, Better known to history as Napoleon III. He's an interesting guy, in a tragically doomed sort of way, and his career arc is ripe for the plucking.
So I'm doing this book in bits and pieces. I'm setting up a Scrivener file, doing my research, and setting up my major plot points. I know it's a mess of cliches, but here's the thing. I want to write a novel. I will self-publish it through Amazon or something, and when I hold it in my hands I will treasure it. If I end selling 15 copies to friends and family, so be it. I'm doing this so I can stand up and say that I write science-fiction.
Behind the cut is a pivotal scene. Alois Rohr, nephew of the deposed (and now deceased) Terran Emperor, is trying to start a coup. His agents have been hard at work subverting the command structure of the 3rd Fleet, making sure Rohrists hold the major commands. Alois has hired a squadron of mercenary destroyers to carry him to where the bulk of the 3rd fleet is stationed . . .
“In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . exit!” There was the familiar lurch of exiting warpspace, the odd feeling of being pulled in all directions while simultaneously being crushed into a single point. I shook my head to clear the fuzziness of transition. Around me, in the cramped cylinder of the Sire du Coucy’s bridge, my far more experienced crew was already at work.
I tried to relax and look commanding. Which was hard to do when you were bundled into a borrowed vacuum suit and strapped hard into the command couch. Also, my small command team was ignoring me. I swallowed a sigh and tried to make sense of what was being fed to the displays in front of me.
It was clear at least that the astrogation had been spot-on. We had emerged a mere dozen or so light-seconds from Asmodeus, a hellish world that was nothing but mines and refineries. All of the Gliese 581 system was devoted to heavy industry, which is why I had selected it as a good starting point. All these vulnerable, vital industries needed protection. That protection was being provided by the Republican 3rd Fleet. And if my money had been well-spent and my agents were correct, those ships were ready to rally around my banner.
I let myself daydream for a minute. The 3rd Fleet would be the first, with more and more of the fleet declaring for me as I advanced to Earth and claimed the throne through the right of fleet control. I was startled from my dreams of coronation banquets by my executive officer clearing his throat.
Lieutenant Commander Alston was the Coucy’s usual commander, but part of the contract was that I had to be seen as the senior officer. These fictions are how you build factual power, I’ve learned.
“Just a quick status update, Captain. All eight ships are in realspace and have moved into diamond four formation.” He nodded towards one of my displays, where a model of local space showed our ships decelerating towards Asmodeus. “As for the welcoming committee, Kim?”
Further down the narrow bridge, the rather pretty chief petty officer at the tactical station didn’t even look up from her screens. “Looks like what we were told to expect, ser. I’m reading beacons from Cruiser Squadrons 31 and 58, plus three destroyer flotillas of eighteen hulls each. Also have the Jutland in sight. Damn, that’s one big bastard. No sign of her partner, the Lepanto.”
"Lepanto is at Tau Ceti undergoing a retrofit,” I interjected, suddenly feeling the need to be more than a passenger on what was supposed to be my mission.
“Answer for every question, I suppose,” Kim remarked. “Captain, Commander Alston, that is more firepower than I’ve encountered in a while. Are we sure there’s a friendly reception coming?”
“Chief,” I said in my most reassuring tone, “this is just the final step in a well laid-out plan.” But keep your eyes open, I didn’t say, because fate has a fine sense of humor. I was trying to keep those voices of doubt at bay when the communications officer spoke up.
“Captain Rohr? Our antenna set is fully deployed and we are ready for you to transmit.” He looked at Alston. “We’re also getting hails from Jutland demanding we identify ourselves.”
“Not to worry, Lieutenant, I’ll take care of that. The green icon to begin, correct?” I received a brief acknowledgment as comms went back to monitoring traffic. Everyone in the crowded space was focused, crackling with intense energy. My gloved thumb hovered over the transmit icon. I had considered pre-recording my message but I was worried about sounding too polished. So I had decided to let the moment speak through me. I took a deep breath and pressed the key.
“Men and women of the Third Fleet, Officers and ratings of the Republican Navy, please hear me out! I am Alois Rohr, nephew of Franz Rohr, and I come to you in the hour of the Republic’s greatest need.
“I need not tell you how the General Secretary and the Assembly have become self-serving pigs feeding on the hard work of the citizens. You more than most understand how the oversized corporate entities have corrupted the government. I ask, how many times have Republican Guard troops been used to suppress workers right here on Asmodeus for the crime of speaking out, a right protected by the Republic’s own charter?” I knew the answer, over 40 times in the last few years, each time with increasing bloodshed. My anger at the abuses of the government began infecting my speech. My words welled with my rising passion.
“It is time, my friends! Time for the sword and shield of the Republic to be lifted in defense of the people! I am a Rohr.” I was straining against the couch restraints, my words demanding that I jump to my feet. I channeled that energy into the rhythm of my words. “My uncle led us to war, but I am not him! Follow me to a restoration of true Republican values of liberty and equality! Follow me to a new golden age for Earth and her colonies, and for all of human space! Follow me, men and ships of the Third Fleet to Earth and a new dawn!”
Flushed, I sank back in my command couch, blushing a bit when Commander Alston had to lean in and stop my transmission. “Well, I’m convinced,” he said, straightening up. “Loop that and send it out until we start getting answers.” He grinned at me. “Well, Captain, in about an hour you’re either going to have a fleet or be a rapidly expanding ball of gas.”
--
The next minutes crawled like hours. The bridge had fallen silent but for the quiet whirring of the life support fans and the distant rumble of our drives, still decelerating the Sire into orbit around Asmodeus. It was almost impossible not to fidget, or scream in frustration.
Alston seemed to share my nervousness. He was seated at a workstation to my right and was flicking through reports so fast I couldn’t imagine that he was actually reading anything. I finally had to say something. Clearing my throat, I turned my head to address the comms station.
“Lieutenant Glaser, do you have anything?”
“Captain, we’re picking up a lot of backscatter. Looks like there’s a lot of tightbeam communications going on between ships. Nothing coming our way yet.”
I checked my panels. We were now five light-seconds from Asmodeus orbit. My nerves were screaming. What was taking so long? Nelson’s last message had been confident of our success. So what was going on? I was suddenly acutely aware of how pathetic eight aged destroyers were compared to the mass of this fleet. The main plot show in increasing detail the location of our squadron in relation to the ships of Third Fleet. We were flying directly into the lion’s den.
Suddenly Glaser jerked up. “Here we go!” he shouted as he toggled his controls so we could all hear what was happening.
“ . . . for Rohr and a restored Republic. Repeat. Cruiser Squadron 58 declares its support for Rohr and a restored Republic. We call on all fleet units to join us.”
The bridge erupted in cheers and on my screen the icons for CruRon 58’s ships were circled in green. I had gone from eight outdated destroyers to three Avalon-class heavy cruisers. It was happening!
Glaser cut off our cheers. “Hey! Another one coming through!”
The speakers crackled “RNS Pomeroy and Sutter share our support for Alois Rohr.”
I frowned. That was two-thirds of CruRon 31. RNS Noddin was evidently not willing to go over to my side. I pulled up the intelligence report Nelson’s agents had put together. Ah. Noddin was commanded by an officer with strong ties to an influential Assembly family.
While I was reading, two of the destroyer flotillas announced neutrality pending “legal orders from the fleet commander.” Which suited me fine. Admiral Hsu had served my uncle and had survived the purges solely by being a brilliant commander. He was my ace in the hole.
But I couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t broadcast yet. Was there a problem on the Jutland?
“Destroyer flotilla 98! Aspect change. All hulls are breaking orbit and heading outsystem.” The announcement from the tactical station had caught me by surprise. Dammit, Alois, focus! Your life depends on it! I scolded myself and studied the tactical display. Sure enough, all eighteen ships were boosting away from the planet. A projected course cone showed they were on a minimum-time course for the hyperlimit line.
Again, Glaser silenced us all. “Jutland just broadcast an all-ships warning. All units are to standby for orders from the fleet commander.” Finally! I thought. Hsu would bring things to a quick conclusion.
When I was a child, I broke a priceless crystal vase. It was an accident, but when I knocked it over, time seemed to slow down as I watched the vase fall, knowing with a sick stomach that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I hated that feeling then. When Jutland began broadcasting, I had the same feeling.
“All hands, this is Contre-Admiral Hawkings. All Third Fleet units are to stand down. I am ordering the arrest of all officers who committed mutiny against the Republic. Any ship that resists with be fired upon. Sire du Coucy, your squadron will continue to Asmodeus orbit. Any attempt to change course will result in your destruction. Ser Rohr. You are under arrest for sedition.”
I was terrified and furious. I mashed the transmit button. “Half your fleet has declared for me, Admiral. Do you want their blood on your hands? I demand to speak with Admiral Hsu, the true commander of this force!”
It took about eight seconds for my demand to reach the Jutland and Hawking’s reply to crawl back. Eight agonizing seconds.
“Fleet Admiral Hsu is in sickbay after suffering a stroke. I am the ‘true commander’ of this fleet, and you are ordered to continue to orbit or be destroyed. Make your choice, Captain.” The last was said with pure disdain that came through clearly. I was composing my reply when all the screens at my station went dark. I yelped in surprise.
“Nothing personal, Rohr, but this is business.” Alston briefly lifted his hands palms up, the vacuum suit sign for a shrug. He then turned his attention to his still-operating controls.
"Third Fleet, this is the Sire du Coucy, Lieutenant Commander Alston in command. We comply, I say again, we are complying with your orders. Alois Rohr is being detained. We are a part of Loren’s Free Squadron, our repatriation bonds are on file with Hortalez et Cie of New Israel. Sire du Coucy, out.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I began fumbling at the straps holding me to the now-dead command couch. I didn’t notice Alston leaving his station and taking the few steps needed to come up beside me.
“Stop.” I looked up to see the bore of a snub pistol pointed at my chest. “I’ve got a tranq round loaded, but it would tear up that suit of ours going in, and I don’t think you’ll be around to pay for the damages. So you are going to sit quietly until you are released by my crew, and then you are going to sit quietly in a cell until we turn you over.”
I was fighting back tears. How could have things gone so wrong? I lashed out at Alston. “You traitor! We had a contract, and you turn coward at the first sign of trouble!” My voice rose to a scream. “All of you, the whole lot of you, cowards and traitors!” That’s when Alston smashed the gun into my face. I felt something in my nose snap and a flare of pain. “Shut your useless mouth, Rohr. You violated your contract by failing to provide up to date intelligence. Specifically, you failed to tell us that fleet command had changed.”
“I was supposed to learn that Hsu had a stroke while we were underway? That’s impossible! You’re using a technicality to get out of your duty!”
“No, Alois, I was keeping my command from being slaughtered. We’re not like you. We do this for money. There’s no money in getting killed. This ship, this squadron, they’re my family. You? You were a client and now you’re a problem. One guess which way I go on that question. Now shut up, because we’re all going to be questioned by Naval Intelligence, and I want to honestly say you said nothing after I arrested you.”
I stayed silent. I stayed silent as I was unceremoniously removed from the bridge at gunpoint, and stayed silent as I sat in a featureless cell. Hours later, there was a series of thuds and clunks that reverberated through the hull as we docked with another ship.
Alston lead me to an airlock. A short tube connected the Sire to a much larger vessel. Two Republican Guardsmen were waiting for me. I stayed silent as they fitted handcuffs and a tracking bracelet on me. But as they started to lead me to my fate, I summon the spite to look at Alston.
“I’ll remember this, And you.”
Alston laughed. “Rohr, you never bothered to learn my given name. To hell with you and your meaningless threats.”
With that, I was lead into my life as a prisoner of the Terran Republic.
I really want honest feedback. Grammer, style, anyrthing you got; good or bad.
So I'm doing this book in bits and pieces. I'm setting up a Scrivener file, doing my research, and setting up my major plot points. I know it's a mess of cliches, but here's the thing. I want to write a novel. I will self-publish it through Amazon or something, and when I hold it in my hands I will treasure it. If I end selling 15 copies to friends and family, so be it. I'm doing this so I can stand up and say that I write science-fiction.
Behind the cut is a pivotal scene. Alois Rohr, nephew of the deposed (and now deceased) Terran Emperor, is trying to start a coup. His agents have been hard at work subverting the command structure of the 3rd Fleet, making sure Rohrists hold the major commands. Alois has hired a squadron of mercenary destroyers to carry him to where the bulk of the 3rd fleet is stationed . . .
“In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . exit!” There was the familiar lurch of exiting warpspace, the odd feeling of being pulled in all directions while simultaneously being crushed into a single point. I shook my head to clear the fuzziness of transition. Around me, in the cramped cylinder of the Sire du Coucy’s bridge, my far more experienced crew was already at work.
I tried to relax and look commanding. Which was hard to do when you were bundled into a borrowed vacuum suit and strapped hard into the command couch. Also, my small command team was ignoring me. I swallowed a sigh and tried to make sense of what was being fed to the displays in front of me.
It was clear at least that the astrogation had been spot-on. We had emerged a mere dozen or so light-seconds from Asmodeus, a hellish world that was nothing but mines and refineries. All of the Gliese 581 system was devoted to heavy industry, which is why I had selected it as a good starting point. All these vulnerable, vital industries needed protection. That protection was being provided by the Republican 3rd Fleet. And if my money had been well-spent and my agents were correct, those ships were ready to rally around my banner.
I let myself daydream for a minute. The 3rd Fleet would be the first, with more and more of the fleet declaring for me as I advanced to Earth and claimed the throne through the right of fleet control. I was startled from my dreams of coronation banquets by my executive officer clearing his throat.
Lieutenant Commander Alston was the Coucy’s usual commander, but part of the contract was that I had to be seen as the senior officer. These fictions are how you build factual power, I’ve learned.
“Just a quick status update, Captain. All eight ships are in realspace and have moved into diamond four formation.” He nodded towards one of my displays, where a model of local space showed our ships decelerating towards Asmodeus. “As for the welcoming committee, Kim?”
Further down the narrow bridge, the rather pretty chief petty officer at the tactical station didn’t even look up from her screens. “Looks like what we were told to expect, ser. I’m reading beacons from Cruiser Squadrons 31 and 58, plus three destroyer flotillas of eighteen hulls each. Also have the Jutland in sight. Damn, that’s one big bastard. No sign of her partner, the Lepanto.”
"Lepanto is at Tau Ceti undergoing a retrofit,” I interjected, suddenly feeling the need to be more than a passenger on what was supposed to be my mission.
“Answer for every question, I suppose,” Kim remarked. “Captain, Commander Alston, that is more firepower than I’ve encountered in a while. Are we sure there’s a friendly reception coming?”
“Chief,” I said in my most reassuring tone, “this is just the final step in a well laid-out plan.” But keep your eyes open, I didn’t say, because fate has a fine sense of humor. I was trying to keep those voices of doubt at bay when the communications officer spoke up.
“Captain Rohr? Our antenna set is fully deployed and we are ready for you to transmit.” He looked at Alston. “We’re also getting hails from Jutland demanding we identify ourselves.”
“Not to worry, Lieutenant, I’ll take care of that. The green icon to begin, correct?” I received a brief acknowledgment as comms went back to monitoring traffic. Everyone in the crowded space was focused, crackling with intense energy. My gloved thumb hovered over the transmit icon. I had considered pre-recording my message but I was worried about sounding too polished. So I had decided to let the moment speak through me. I took a deep breath and pressed the key.
“Men and women of the Third Fleet, Officers and ratings of the Republican Navy, please hear me out! I am Alois Rohr, nephew of Franz Rohr, and I come to you in the hour of the Republic’s greatest need.
“I need not tell you how the General Secretary and the Assembly have become self-serving pigs feeding on the hard work of the citizens. You more than most understand how the oversized corporate entities have corrupted the government. I ask, how many times have Republican Guard troops been used to suppress workers right here on Asmodeus for the crime of speaking out, a right protected by the Republic’s own charter?” I knew the answer, over 40 times in the last few years, each time with increasing bloodshed. My anger at the abuses of the government began infecting my speech. My words welled with my rising passion.
“It is time, my friends! Time for the sword and shield of the Republic to be lifted in defense of the people! I am a Rohr.” I was straining against the couch restraints, my words demanding that I jump to my feet. I channeled that energy into the rhythm of my words. “My uncle led us to war, but I am not him! Follow me to a restoration of true Republican values of liberty and equality! Follow me to a new golden age for Earth and her colonies, and for all of human space! Follow me, men and ships of the Third Fleet to Earth and a new dawn!”
Flushed, I sank back in my command couch, blushing a bit when Commander Alston had to lean in and stop my transmission. “Well, I’m convinced,” he said, straightening up. “Loop that and send it out until we start getting answers.” He grinned at me. “Well, Captain, in about an hour you’re either going to have a fleet or be a rapidly expanding ball of gas.”
--
The next minutes crawled like hours. The bridge had fallen silent but for the quiet whirring of the life support fans and the distant rumble of our drives, still decelerating the Sire into orbit around Asmodeus. It was almost impossible not to fidget, or scream in frustration.
Alston seemed to share my nervousness. He was seated at a workstation to my right and was flicking through reports so fast I couldn’t imagine that he was actually reading anything. I finally had to say something. Clearing my throat, I turned my head to address the comms station.
“Lieutenant Glaser, do you have anything?”
“Captain, we’re picking up a lot of backscatter. Looks like there’s a lot of tightbeam communications going on between ships. Nothing coming our way yet.”
I checked my panels. We were now five light-seconds from Asmodeus orbit. My nerves were screaming. What was taking so long? Nelson’s last message had been confident of our success. So what was going on? I was suddenly acutely aware of how pathetic eight aged destroyers were compared to the mass of this fleet. The main plot show in increasing detail the location of our squadron in relation to the ships of Third Fleet. We were flying directly into the lion’s den.
Suddenly Glaser jerked up. “Here we go!” he shouted as he toggled his controls so we could all hear what was happening.
“ . . . for Rohr and a restored Republic. Repeat. Cruiser Squadron 58 declares its support for Rohr and a restored Republic. We call on all fleet units to join us.”
The bridge erupted in cheers and on my screen the icons for CruRon 58’s ships were circled in green. I had gone from eight outdated destroyers to three Avalon-class heavy cruisers. It was happening!
Glaser cut off our cheers. “Hey! Another one coming through!”
The speakers crackled “RNS Pomeroy and Sutter share our support for Alois Rohr.”
I frowned. That was two-thirds of CruRon 31. RNS Noddin was evidently not willing to go over to my side. I pulled up the intelligence report Nelson’s agents had put together. Ah. Noddin was commanded by an officer with strong ties to an influential Assembly family.
While I was reading, two of the destroyer flotillas announced neutrality pending “legal orders from the fleet commander.” Which suited me fine. Admiral Hsu had served my uncle and had survived the purges solely by being a brilliant commander. He was my ace in the hole.
But I couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t broadcast yet. Was there a problem on the Jutland?
“Destroyer flotilla 98! Aspect change. All hulls are breaking orbit and heading outsystem.” The announcement from the tactical station had caught me by surprise. Dammit, Alois, focus! Your life depends on it! I scolded myself and studied the tactical display. Sure enough, all eighteen ships were boosting away from the planet. A projected course cone showed they were on a minimum-time course for the hyperlimit line.
Again, Glaser silenced us all. “Jutland just broadcast an all-ships warning. All units are to standby for orders from the fleet commander.” Finally! I thought. Hsu would bring things to a quick conclusion.
When I was a child, I broke a priceless crystal vase. It was an accident, but when I knocked it over, time seemed to slow down as I watched the vase fall, knowing with a sick stomach that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I hated that feeling then. When Jutland began broadcasting, I had the same feeling.
“All hands, this is Contre-Admiral Hawkings. All Third Fleet units are to stand down. I am ordering the arrest of all officers who committed mutiny against the Republic. Any ship that resists with be fired upon. Sire du Coucy, your squadron will continue to Asmodeus orbit. Any attempt to change course will result in your destruction. Ser Rohr. You are under arrest for sedition.”
I was terrified and furious. I mashed the transmit button. “Half your fleet has declared for me, Admiral. Do you want their blood on your hands? I demand to speak with Admiral Hsu, the true commander of this force!”
It took about eight seconds for my demand to reach the Jutland and Hawking’s reply to crawl back. Eight agonizing seconds.
“Fleet Admiral Hsu is in sickbay after suffering a stroke. I am the ‘true commander’ of this fleet, and you are ordered to continue to orbit or be destroyed. Make your choice, Captain.” The last was said with pure disdain that came through clearly. I was composing my reply when all the screens at my station went dark. I yelped in surprise.
“Nothing personal, Rohr, but this is business.” Alston briefly lifted his hands palms up, the vacuum suit sign for a shrug. He then turned his attention to his still-operating controls.
"Third Fleet, this is the Sire du Coucy, Lieutenant Commander Alston in command. We comply, I say again, we are complying with your orders. Alois Rohr is being detained. We are a part of Loren’s Free Squadron, our repatriation bonds are on file with Hortalez et Cie of New Israel. Sire du Coucy, out.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I began fumbling at the straps holding me to the now-dead command couch. I didn’t notice Alston leaving his station and taking the few steps needed to come up beside me.
“Stop.” I looked up to see the bore of a snub pistol pointed at my chest. “I’ve got a tranq round loaded, but it would tear up that suit of ours going in, and I don’t think you’ll be around to pay for the damages. So you are going to sit quietly until you are released by my crew, and then you are going to sit quietly in a cell until we turn you over.”
I was fighting back tears. How could have things gone so wrong? I lashed out at Alston. “You traitor! We had a contract, and you turn coward at the first sign of trouble!” My voice rose to a scream. “All of you, the whole lot of you, cowards and traitors!” That’s when Alston smashed the gun into my face. I felt something in my nose snap and a flare of pain. “Shut your useless mouth, Rohr. You violated your contract by failing to provide up to date intelligence. Specifically, you failed to tell us that fleet command had changed.”
“I was supposed to learn that Hsu had a stroke while we were underway? That’s impossible! You’re using a technicality to get out of your duty!”
“No, Alois, I was keeping my command from being slaughtered. We’re not like you. We do this for money. There’s no money in getting killed. This ship, this squadron, they’re my family. You? You were a client and now you’re a problem. One guess which way I go on that question. Now shut up, because we’re all going to be questioned by Naval Intelligence, and I want to honestly say you said nothing after I arrested you.”
I stayed silent. I stayed silent as I was unceremoniously removed from the bridge at gunpoint, and stayed silent as I sat in a featureless cell. Hours later, there was a series of thuds and clunks that reverberated through the hull as we docked with another ship.
Alston lead me to an airlock. A short tube connected the Sire to a much larger vessel. Two Republican Guardsmen were waiting for me. I stayed silent as they fitted handcuffs and a tracking bracelet on me. But as they started to lead me to my fate, I summon the spite to look at Alston.
“I’ll remember this, And you.”
Alston laughed. “Rohr, you never bothered to learn my given name. To hell with you and your meaningless threats.”
With that, I was lead into my life as a prisoner of the Terran Republic.
I really want honest feedback. Grammer, style, anyrthing you got; good or bad.
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Date: 3 Apr 2019 08:12 (UTC)