The Orion Project - [Sci-Fi] [DED. SORRY :( ]

[Mirage_GSM]

Other than the names, the language itself hasn't mangled much.

The point was: Why should the names be mangled if the rest of the language isn't?
Did only the interiors of all the copies of those books survive and none of the covers?
Very unlikely even today, when a lot of books are available electronically and the covers are a part of the same file.

While Brayeele was the oldest alphabets used today, older even than Japanglish, due to the way it appealed to the blind

It still doesn't make any sense.
For one thing, the way you've written it now, "Japanglish" is also an alphabet.

For another in your story, Braille is the only alphabet in the world that will survive the next 120 years because it appeals to a small minority of people. Being only useful to a small number of people is not usually a good indication that something will survive...

I understand you want to add small details in which the world you're writing about is different from the present, but make sure those changes make sense.
Otherwise you'll end up with a story like Demolition Man, where Pizza Hut is the most posh restaurant in town. It's okay if you want to go for laughs, but I assume you don't want that.

[ParagonTerminus]

Obviously, some of it is for laughs (Rolex), but I see what you mean. For now I've cut out the offending sentence entirely.

Also, minor heads-up: I might publish one more chapter tommorow, but then I'll be gone a few days with no guarantee of internet.

[ParagonTerminus]

*Short chapter today because I'm attending an event some considerable distance away. If I have internet, I'll see if I can get another short chapter up tommorow*

[CHAPTER 7]
[HISAO THE STINGY]

Hours had passed since my meeting with the girls, and the Terrion Engines were almost charged. Knowing full well how the engines on the IPCN medium vessels were much better than the Ronin's, I elected to try and Catalyse out of the area as soon as possible. I had a bit of a plan for that, and that's why I was sitting up at my captain's station and calling up the security station on the nearby moon.

"Yes?" The operator on the other end asked, his grizzly face coming into being on the comms screen.

"Can I ask a quick favour?" I asked.

"Sure thing, kid, whacha need?"

I brushed off the insult. "Are you friends of the IPCN?"

He looked through the camera on his end, seeming to pierce me with his gaze. I was wondering if I should arm the weapons and brace for the worst when he replied,

"You're out of your mind if you think we'd help you goddamn Collies, and I-"

I cut him off, "Good that we're on the same side. I stole this ship from the IPCN and they're currently tracking me."

The operator stared for a second. "You want us to distract them?"

I was amazed that he had guessed my exact thoughts. "Yes, please. As long as you can without endangering yourself. I have vital resistance cargo to deliver."

The operator nodded with a grin. "Anything to overthrow the Collies. Godspeed, kid."

I gave a brief salute and shut off the communication. I had stated the vital cargo part as a lie, but could I be wrong? About the girl, that is.

I dismissed the thought to a low-priority section of my brain. I needed to focus on getting the Ronin combat capable.

The only real issue was power. Given enough power, a small systemlocked carrier fighter could easily destroy all five of the IPCN's Flagships after a while. With just electricity, weapons fired, Horizon Fields blocked, and engines blasted. While the Ronin didn't have the capacity to power itself as much as a flagship, many nonessential things were constantly draining power: laundry machines, food synthesizers, lamps in all the uninhabited crew quarters, etc., all draining valuable electricity. It was thus that I elected to have Lilly rewire the "battle stations" alarm switch on my captain's station. When pressed, not only did it turn on the alarm, it also activated a sort of Battle Mode: every single one of these irrelevant systems, plus primary lighting (secondary lighting was left alone) would be powered off, and power diverted to the battery cells. Another small section of levers Lilly installed allowed me to control how much of the surplus went to each of the vital systems: guns, Horizon Field, and engines. With power sorted to the best of my capacity, just one thing was left.

The Catalysation.

I sent a quick farewell hail to the security station, hoping they'd live up to their promise, and then started firing up the engines. Go time. Pushing the bright red and flashing button, a familiar process began.

First came the whining: servos and pistons rotating, the reactor being kicked into overdrive. Then came the dull rumble: the nuclear reactions in the reactor being made thousands of times faster than usual. And finally, the scream of energy as the nuclear power was released in raw form alongside vast fields of Terrions, the former sending the latter into a maddened frenzy.

And finally, the shockwave.

When the shockwave came, all was fine. No accidents had ever been reported after the shockwave of breaking the light barrier smashed home.

After that, it was only a matter of seconds before you reappeared magically in a new location. There was nothing magical about Feurel, however.

Feurel was a very urban planet, with cities dotted all around it. The only places that were uninhabited were either unsuited to human life and not worth the cost of terraformation, or were inhabited by the vicious Sckarr, a violent race of flying monsters that had somehow survived practically every form of weapon tried on them; they just kept reproducing. Much like humans, I thought with a tinge of philosophy, but there was no place for philosophy right now.

Hovering about 18 kilometres away was a small fleet of ships. The largest of these, which I distinctly recognized to be an old
Nomiya-class mining carrier, seemed to have a swarm of small shapes flying about it. A mercenary carrier, then, and instead of mining ships it carried fighters.

Almost immediately, a hail arrived on screen. I accepted it and a grimy obese captain with a dirty grey beard appeared on screen. He gave a smile with yellowed teeth.

"Well well, if it ain't Nukky!" He roared with laughter. I scowled. Nukky was how Rolex's mercenaries reffered to me.

"I don't want any trouble," I told him. I doubted diplomacy would work, but maybe it could be attempted?

The carrier captain's laughter grew cacophonous. He recovered seconds later.

"Nukky, you owe the big man a helluva lotta Ferrians, and most a' that's for lateness!" He cackled at his own silly idea of a joke.

I didn't have time for this.

I slammed my hand on the Battle Stations alarm and the same old low droning began, as well as a new power surge appearing on my analytics screen. Screwing around with the levers, I decided to pump all the extra surplus to the magnetic railgun tracks for now.

Taking first shot, I scored three hits on some small mercenary fighters; only the best of the Clubmen ships got Horizon Fields.

The carrier began swinging around to attack, and the fighters began flying towards me. I counted maybe seventeen little fighters, all designed for attacking small ships, not IPCN corvettes. I had a good while before I needed to worry about them.

I set the guns on autofire and watched the fireworks. After scoring repeated hits and tearing off many chunks of the Clubman carrier, the carrier frantically hailed me, probably begging for mercy.

But no.

I was going to send Rolex a message.

And suddenly, a message arrived for me, and a very bad message indeed.

The proximity alarm blared.

Behind the Ronin, an IPCN cruiser had Catalysed into the sector.

[Mirage_GSM]

Two more reality checks:
Firstly, redirecting power from "nonessential systems" is fine, but did you have to specify laundry machines and lighting? Neither uses more than a few Watts with today's technology, so either they build them extremely inefficient in the future, or they won't even make a dent in the power requirements of a battleship running on nuclear power.
Secondly:

After scoring repeated hits and tearing off many chunks of the Clubman carrier, the carrier frantically hailed me, probably begging for mercy.
But no. I was going to send Rolex a message.

He waltzes into the home system of a guy (or gal) who supposedly has enough of a fleet to temporarily fight the "Collies" to a standstill, and he is going to send him a message. Is that message "please come and kill me"?
If you just owe them money, most people will be inclined to negotiate as long as they have hope to get some of it back later. If you off some of their henchmen that inclination will quickly be gone...

[ParagonTerminus]

Two more reality checks:
Firstly, redirecting power from "nonessential systems" is fine, but did you have to specify laundry machines and lighting? Neither uses more than a few Watts with today's technology, so either they build them extremely inefficient in the future, or they won't even make a dent in the power requirements of a battleship running on nuclear power.
Secondly:

After scoring repeated hits and tearing off many chunks of the Clubman carrier, the carrier frantically hailed me, probably begging for mercy.
But no. I was going to send Rolex a message.

He waltzes into the home system of a guy (or gal) who supposedly has enough of a fleet to temporarily fight the "Collies" to a standstill, and he is going to send him a message. Is that message "please come and kill me"?
If you just owe them money, most people will be inclined to negotiate as long as they have hope to get some of it back later. If you off some of their henchmen that inclination will quickly be gone...

I don't believe I said Feurel was Rolex's home system, just under his dominion.

Also, any amount of redirected power helps. Futuristic elctromagnets respond extremely well to any amount of extra power.

[Mirage_GSM]

Also, any amount of redirected power helps. Futuristic elctromagnets respond extremely well to any amount of extra power.

You know, you don't have to write "hard" SciFi. You can just as well write bubbly little stories where laserswords can cut through anything, relativity is nonexistant and spaceships run on a mixture of cola and mentos pills. Such stories can be entertaining as well.
However if you DO intend to write hard SciFi, don't try to bullshit around the laws of physics everytime you're called out on them.

Lightbulbs use a miniscule amount of energy. That is a fact. So if the lightbulbs make up a significant part of the ship's energy consumption there is only one possibility: The engine also uses very little energy - but in that case there shouldn't be any problem at all.
There is no way to feed a few watts into an electromagnet - no matter how futuristic - and get out MORE energy. If there was, you could power your spaceship with a hamster treadmill.

[brythain]

Also, any amount of redirected power helps. Futuristic electromagnets respond extremely well to any amount of extra power.

It was at this point that I checked to see if I had misread your fic's title—was it The Onion Project? was it The Orlon Project?
On a more constructive note, the main thing (I suspect) about KS fanficdom is that people are more interested in the characters than the tech. So you can even shove the tech into the distant background without needing to build coherent detail except where it is going to interfere with suspension of disbelief. (Yeah, yeah, I'm guilty of serious de-suspension of disbelief myself, I confess.)

[ParagonTerminus]

@Brythain: Character development is coming! After the next chapter, the next 3-4 chapters are gonna be solid character development. You'll see.

@Mirage: Okay, fine, I guess I was just trying to add a hint of desperation to the story and got rather carried away. I would prefer to write hard Sci-Fi, but with some gimmicks thrown in, like Terrion Catalysation and Horizon Fields and such.

[Silentcook]

Wherein I blather about some of the problems that you seem to be experiencing in spades.

[ParagonTerminus]

Wherein I blather about some of the problems that you seem to be experiencing in spades.

This isn't a direct crossover. The only thing I'm borrowing is the very basic concept Firefly created: generally happy universe with all the poor people suffering. I don't think that could be called a crossover because it's far too vague.

[Mirage_GSM]

SC has a personal definition of "crossover" which he explains in the thread he linked to.
Besides:

generally happy universe with all the poor people suffering.

I'm having trouble rconciling the first part of that statement with the second part...

[ParagonTerminus]

SC has a personal definition of "crossover" which he explains in the thread he linked to.
Besides:

generally happy universe with all the poor people suffering.

I'm having trouble rconciling the first part of that statement with the second part...

Well, about half of the population (52%) lives on one of the IPC's Coreworlds or Midworlds and are anything from middle class to rich-enough-to-buy-planets, 26% live rather badly on one of the Rimworlds or a Pastworld (planets that have, for one reason or another, fallen back very far technologically, ranging from the stone age to today's world), and the rest are dirt-poor and really pissed.

A slight majority is happy. The rest is very dissatisfied.

[brythain]

I shall quote Mirage_GSM at this point, from the very wise words he and Silentcook hit me with when I was starting 'After the Dream':

If the annotations are longer than the story there's something wrong with the story.

Although I do think that eventually, when the story grows beyond the annotations, things may work out.

[ParagonTerminus]

I shall quote Mirage_GSM at this point, from the very wise words he and Silentcook hit me with when I was starting 'After the Dream':

If the annotations are longer than the story there's something wrong with the story.

Although I do think that eventually, when the story grows beyond the annotations, things may work out.

I have a few days ahead of me with little to no internet. I'm going to use that time to make the next chapter a long and hopefully worthwhile experiment in integrating all the advice I've been given. All or nothing.

[ParagonTerminus]

*I will soon begin polishing the thread a little and adding the external material I promised.*

[CHAPTER 8]
[ALL OR NOTHING]

I quickly cursed my original bravado. I had thought that, by the time Rolex's men had scrambled their entire orbital fleet, I would be able to swoop down and land. The orbital garrison at Feurel was strong, but they had little control over the dealings of the populace. I should have instead tried to lay low, lose myself in a nearby nebula; but no. I had underestimated the Catalysation range of these cruisers.

IPCN cruisers were their elite operational force. Equipped with multiple large guns, a myriad of medium guns, and even a small hangar bay hosting 50 systemlocked interceptor fighters, the joint American-Russian-Chinese Excalibur-class was death to any unprepared ship. The Ronin was desperately unprepared.

I was equally unprepared when, ignoring me completely, the cruiser flew dangerously close by on the starboard side and unleashed the full force of its plasma lances. Needless to say, the mercenary carrier suffered a quick yet painful death.

The cruiser turned around, the engine modules arrays deflecting massive chunks of debris now drifting around. I recieved a hail, and I had no choice but to answer.

A face appeared on the screen. He was tall, gaunt, and could almost be called handsome, with a light stubble building at his chin. What shocked me, however, were his eyes.

Or rather, not eyes. The unblinking red lights glaring back at me were definitely not eyes; they were military ProsthiOptics. Not only did they replace normal or damaged eyes, they enhanced them, granting additional visibility in a number of spectrums not seen by the naked eye; most of the IPCN's very best Hybrid Marines were equipped with them.

So the man I was dealing with was either a former Hybrid Marine, incredibly rich, or incredibly powerful. Either way, I didn't like it.

"Captain Hisao Nakai, unlike the captain of the craft you encountered two sectors ago, I am willing to negotiate. We are aware that you are transporting cargo vital to the IPC's future." At first I wondered what he was referring to, but then I realised the little fib I had told the security operator in the last system was actually the truth.

"If, Captain," the cruiser captain resumed, "You dock with us and unload this cargo, we will allow you to live. If not, we have alternative means of securing it that don't allow your survival into the equation."

I shook my head. "I'm not stupid. The minute the airlocks open I'll have the IPCN's very best storming my ship and tearing it apart. Not happening."

The cruiser captain thought for a moment. "Fine. You are not a common idiot, Nakai, and that is good. Jettison the cargo in an escape pod, and we will collect her. You will be transferred enough Ferrians to buy a replacement, plus a little extra for your own uses."

Well, certainly a better idea than being melted by a plasma lance or filled with bullets.

"Give us 20 minutes to collect her," I replied in answer.

The captain nodded. "Very well; I wouldn't be surprised if she resisted. Be aware, however, that we are monitoring your ship's systems. If we detect the slightest power surge to any system, your ship will be disabled and we will be a little less friendly in our negotiations." The captain's skill with passive-aggressiveness was amazing.

I waved a hand. "I'm not suicidal, sir. I know an Excalibur will easily defeat my ship."

He nodded. "The Oni is a fine ship, is it not? Now stop stalling. Go." For effect he shut off the transmission and percieved two of the plasma lance batteries rotating to face the Ronin. I could barely conceal a gulp as I hoisted myself off the chair and started walking out of the bridge.

Upon reentering the crew lounge, I found no one there. Assuming Lilly had backed down to Engineering in lieu of the Battle Stations alarm, and possibly taken Hanako with her, I elected that was the best possible destination and thus began yet another venture through the Ronin's halls. The door, labelled "Engineering Bay," soon presented itself, and opening it led to a ladder down into the bowels of the ship. Climbing down, the stench of grease hit with a nauseating shock, and the throbbing of the reactor, heart of the Ronin, became deafening. Beyond that soundproof door lay the domain of Lilly, blind engineer of the American-controlled New Scotland, born of the same throbbing and stench she lived in today. She had told me weeks ago that she had been born in the engine room of a mining ship to one of the slaves there. Her father had been a wealthy bureacrat, Hideki Satou, who had raped one of the slaves on his own ship, causing Lilly to be born. While her mother had dissapeared, presumably due to her post-maternal weakness, Mr. Satou had been a legitimately loving and caring father, and Lilly had apparently reciprocated appropriately until one day she discovered the truth. She didn't want to talk about what happened after.

When I reached the bottom of the ladder, I saw that Hanako was sitting on a small plastic chair, book in hand and earmuffs over ears. Lilly was checking some readouts on a screen, not wearing any earmuffs; not only did they hinder her most vital sense, but it also seemed like the absence of the Engineering Bay's constant mechanical cacophony hurt her more than the sounds themselves.

Lilly, her acute hearing easily picking up my heavy footfalls among the rest of the devil's orchestra, turned around, her face slightly bent inquisitively.

I sighed, "It's worse than I expected. An entire fucking IPCN cruiser Catalysed in a few minutes ago. As you can see, it didn't much care for apprehending us, but..."

I gave another sigh, this one carrying more despair than exasperation. "They want Hanako."

Lilly let out a small surprised gasp and Hanako turned towards me, her face full of shock, so exxagerated it seemed almost like one of the masks at one of those old Griekke Tragedies, except this was very real. How the hell had she heard me?

"Hisao, I..." Lilly was truly lost for words. Hanako stayed silent.

"The good news is that their captain was gentlemanly enough to give us 20 minutes to decide. That was about 3 minutes ago," I interjected hopefully.

"We can't just... hand her over..." Lilly replied slowly, "Now that I think about it, Hanako says a cruiser attacked the ship she was on. Why do they want her so badly?"

I shook my head, even though I knew it was a futile gesture. "The Ronin can't take on a whole Excalibur-class, Lilly. We really don't have many options."

She bristled visibly. "I'm not going to hand her over."

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid. They'll blast us to bits as soon as they have her. Their captain is honourable, but not stupid either."

Lilly relaxed when she heard this. "Fine, so we have a bit of time. We could try to escape planetside... A cruiser can't chase us there."

"It's an option, but the Clubmen will be on alert."

"Fine, so that's one choice. The engines won't be charged for Catalysation in time, so that's off the list."

I stood for a moment, thinking.

"Lilly... We can charge for an in-sector Catalysation, right?"

Her eyes widened. "What are you suggesting?"

"Simple. Just trust me and make sure the engines are charged."

---

On the Oni, Kenji was drumming his finger impatiently on the edge of his seat's armrest when the familiar beeping sound started emanating from Wakawa's console. Wakawa, now familiar with how Kenji wanted to deal with Nakai, routed it through to his terminal. When Captain Nakai appeared on screen, Kenji beamed a fake smile. He hadn't practiced in years.

"Ah, Nakai! We haven't detected an escape pod yet. Anything the matter?"

"Yes, in fact, there has been a change of plans," he said while giving a smug grin.

Suddenly, Bridge Sergeant Clivery, an American Section scanning officer, gave a cry of surprise. "Sir, the Catalysation signatures, they're...!" He started spluttering.

Kenji looked at his screen. It seemed as if hundreds of ships had Catalysed away sim-

"Fuck, fuck FUCK!" Kenji shouted, catching on, seeing only a brief glimpse of Captain Nakai smiling like a lunatic before the communication cut out. Suddenly, his ship was gone, and the Catalysation signature lost within the Terrion Cloud.

Kenji fell back into his chair, the usual boiling anger being replaced by calm despair and helplesness. He had lost his prey, and for a good while too.

"Kodai," he said slowly, each syllable very pronounced, "I need... some tea... if you would... please."

Kodai jumped up and sprinted off the bridge. Maximum speed was necessary with appeasing Captain Kenji Setou, scourge of New Alexandria, demoted and shamed yet lusting for revenge. All knew that he had lost his rank as Fleet Admiral only days after that
fateful battle, but everyone also knew that he had lost something deeper, something less pronounced.

And as Captain Setou sat musing in his chair, he had a memory.

---

The Ronin emerged on the dark side of Feurel unscathed. The Catalysation Calculator had brought the ship around the planet while keeping it hidden in the Terrion Cloud, but only time would tell if the distraction had worked.

For now, the Ronin's crew needed to lay low on the planet, perhaps get some shopping done. As I brought the ship on a slow course to land on a slightly lighter part of the planet, I was smiling joyfully. I truly think my little maneuver worked, and it didn't kill anyone in the process. While the ship glided down to a landing in one of the multiple hangars, I leaned back in my chair and decided, for a change, that not all would be so bad after all.