Salon doré, Palais de l’Élysée, Paris, France, 12 July, 18:43 hrs +1 GMT
The President stood in front of the wall sized map. The front lines ran from the Swiss border to the east in a great arc all through Centre and down to the southwest on where the Spanish border. Enemy forces where a scant one hundred and thirty kilometers from the capital. France’s armed forces have traded territory for time.
And time was running out.
Eurocorp was spread thin. In the east German with forces from Norway, Denmark with volunteers from Sweden and Finland held the Alpine line that ran through the old Swiss/Austrian/Italian border. Estimates put the enemy field strength at over one hundred thousand. In the Balkans, the enemy besieged Zagreb, Sarajevo and Belgrade, while the bulk of their forces swept away Macedonian and Albanian resistance. Russian paratroopers held Belgrade against repeated attacks, while the Polish, Check and Russian Federation air forces supplied the beleaguered capitals from the air.
An attack on Greece was expected at any moment.
The Spanish Legion fought side by side with their French counterparts in the region of the Pyrénées-Orientales. The strong presence of allied navies in the western Mediterranean protected their flank, but not without loses to midget submarines, hordes of torpedo attack boats and the occasional dragon strike.
Back in France, French forces were fully committed, along side the forces of the Low Countries. If France fell, they would surely follow. They exacted a heavy price on the enemy. For every dead allied soldier, ten fell on the other side.
Five thousand on one side, fifty thousand on the other.
France did not stand alone, but could it stand for much longer?
Hope lay in the north and east. Thousands civilians trained to become soldiers, factories built armaments and countries from Australia to Brazil promised aid.
Would they arrive in time?
Would they march to liberate France or stomp over acid washed ruins and dunes of ash?
The President put those thoughts aside. He sat on ornate desk, faced the cameras and shuffled a stack of papers. From the outset he set out to calm his fellow citizens. He promised he would tell them the truth, every day, the best way he could. No lies, no jingoism, the unvarnished truth. The opposition labeled him “The Mayor” for acting like a village politician instead of a national leader. But France embraced chats. No embellishments would drive away the dark clouds over their heads or the hunger in their bellies.
Another apology post of sorts. I’m still very busy with other projects, including my take on the Xbox One reveal and the coming Techno-Apocalypse (should be posted on Nerd Trek tonight or early tomorrow morning). I did manage to post the last part of my Mass Effect fan fic, at least in its current iteration. It was fun, but looking back at it felt sort of flat. I will pick it up again in the fall. In the mean time, expect much article writing, more updates on Wizards’ World War (need to finish Season 3) and finally putting my WiP to rest and ready for queriying in the Fall/Winter of this year.
Until then I leave you with this hurricane of bad puns:
Command Center, SSV Daedalus, Near Imir’s Mass Relay, Eagle Nebula, May 28, 2196
The command center buzzed with activity. Reports filed in from all units.
-Task Force Cork in position-
-ETA of Task Force Scythe to Korlus, two minutes-
-Cruisers Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax and Herakles standing by-
-Pegasus and Prometheus fighter wings ready for launch-
I hated the feeling of detachment that came with being part of events but not in them. I had no finger on a trigger, no button to push, no enemy fire to dodge, only orders to give. The zone did not materialize. No calm took over me. The filter turned into a wall. Others would fight this battle in my stead.
-Task Force Scythe is one minute from target area-
The systems monitored the enemy’s comm traffic. It was the only way to track their movements at this distance. The estimate of enemy numbers held at just over twenty armed merchantmen. Task Force Scythe, composed of two elements of three turian cruisers each, would jump on the flanks of the enemy fleet. Caught in a classic pincer the enemy would either scatter or be destroyed.
That was the plan.
-Task Force Scythe on target. Engaging-
On holo six turian cruisers appeared on each side of the enemy fleet. But the enemy did not scatter. Instead the ships on the flanks concentrated their fire on a cruiser from each element, while the bulk of the force jumped clear.
-Revising target estimate. Total numbers now at forty-five ships-
-Analyzing jump vector. Jump vector confirmed. Enemy enemy force en route to the mass relay. ETA five minutes-
“How many?” I asked.
“Twenty five, sir,” said Galeena
The batarians had hidden their numbers by the simple expedient of emission control. The bulk of the fleet orbited Korlus with thrusters cold and no active radio signals.Their emissions disciplined robbed passive sensors of crucial data.
Clever bastards!
“Tell Pegasus and Prometheus to launch fighters,” I said.
“Aye Sir,” said Pasha.
-Incoming transmission from Major Rentola over the QEC-
“Patch him through,” I said.
Rentola’s voice came through the intercom, “Colonel, we discovered what the batarians were up. Transmitting data to you now.”
An image of a huge laboratory appeared on holo. Hundreds of stasis tubes lined the walls, all filled with human bodies. More images appeared: a double helix and and a sphere covered in spikes.
“This is a new form of a batarian biological weapon used on a assassination attempt on the Council in 2183. This one,” the graphic changed to show the interior of a vein, “attacks human red blood cells, blocking their ability to carry oxygen and nutrients. As they cell die, the clomp together, blocking circulation and causing massive internal hemorrhaging . The spores have a tough outer shell resistant to radiation and temperature extremes. It only peals away when in contact with key enzymes in the blood stream. According to the files we retrieved, it can lay dormant on most surfaces for well over a century.”
I gripped the edge of the projector until my knuckles turned white, “Is that what they shipped to Korlus?”
“Yes, inside modified disruptor torpedoes,” said Rentola.
-Enemy ETA to mass relay three minutes-
“I need numbers Major,” I said.
“Each warhead carries enough material to blanket over one hundred square kilometers. We estimate that they produced and shipped several thousands torpedoes, enough to render entire colonies uninhabitable,” said Rentola.
-Task Force Scythe still engaged-
I took a deep breath, “Lethality?”
“Estimated ninety-seven percent lethality for age groups under five years old or over eighty within seventy-two hours from exposure. All other age groups are rated at seventy-seven percent lethality with death occurring within a week of exposure,” he said.
“Anything else?”
“We alerted the Council of the current situation and they are mobilizing the fleets,” said Rentola.
But we both knew that there was simply too many targets to defend. It was the reason why my team spent the last decade training planetary militias and fortifying colonies all over the Traverse and the Terminus. But none of our plans covered a massive biological attack. A successful attack would kill hundreds of thousands if not millions of colonist and cut off Earth’s food supply. An Earth that hovered on the brink from the Reaper invasion ten years ago.
“Thank you Major,” I said.
“Good luck,” he replied.
All eyes were on me.
“Pass the data to the rest of the task force,” I said.
No need for fancy speeches, the facts spoke for themselves. The cruisers formed a box around the enemy’s approach vector. Their crews maneuvered so as to engage the enemy with their ship’s spinal mounts and broadsides where ever possible. I ordered the fighters to concentrate on the enemy ship’s main thrusters.
“Considered done, sir,” said Rodan over the comm.
-Two turian cruisers disengaging-
The enemy jumped in. Long range fire from the cruisers tore four, then eight merchantmen to pieces. The fleet charged toward the relay, heedless of losses. Fighters came from all directions. They fired volley after volley of torpedoes. GARDIAN lasers ripped the squadrons apart.
-Twelve targets destroyed. Four disabled-
The enemy returned fire on Ajax and Achilles. The sheer number of broadsides overwhelmed their kinetic barriers.
-Achilles reports an imminent eezo core meltdown-
The cruiser blinked out of existence. Ajax‘s captain ordered her crews to the life pods. Within seconds it joined her sister ship in a fiery oblivion.
-Agamemnon‘s main battery and thrusters are off line. Switching to broadsides and maneuvering thrusters-
Herakles, Agamemnon and the fighters stopped three more enemy ships but six still remained.
“Launch all shuttles and gunships. Have them target the enemy main thrusters. The carriers will close to weapons range,” I said.
Galeena nodded. Orders were given to close to with the enemy. The point defense system were designed to stop fighters or missiles not go toe to toe with warships. Only three carriers stood between the enemy and the mass relay.
-Enemy within weapons range-
The ship shuddered under enemy fire.
-GARDIAN systems overheating-
-Prometheus and Pegasus lost kinetic barriers. Reporting multiple hull breaches-
At that moment the zone returned. My mind processed all the relevant data: damage reports, loss updates, range to targets and time estimates. I knew the score. I accept my fate.
Miranda…may you live a long and happy life.
Two new objects appeared on holo.
“Sorry for the delay, Colonel. We were a bit tied up back there,” said Captain D’arqui over the comm.
The combined fire of turians and our ships obliterated the batarians. I shook from head to toe. I sat down, drenched in sweat. Galeena put a hand on my shoulders.
“Casualties?” I asked.
“Three cruisers lost, two of ours, one turian. Nineteen fighters lost along with three gunships and two shuttles. Recovering lifepods now,” said Pasha from his station.
This trope is about doing the deed before the deed is done.
In other words, it’s about sex.
It is a nice way to tie the romantic subplot just before the story ends. But it does have two problems. The first, it might come off as too neat if the subplot has not reached its own…climax. The second comes when you want to write a sequel and find yourself with a couple fueled by UST no longer has the spark to go on. Do you summon God of Status Quo to reset the relationship? Can you avoid it becoming stale or worst, consuming the main plot?
Like so many other tropes, it is tempting to simply use it to wrap up things, but as always, misuse can lead to disaster.
Main Conference Room, TRS HQ, Bekenstein, Boltzmann, Serpent Nebula, May 24, 2196
Rodan walked into the conference room with a Turian female. Her facial markings were a fierce neon red that clashed with her cream colored scales and short fringe. She wore the dark uniform of the Turian Fleet.
“Colonel, this is Captain Valena D’arqui, she the Hierarchy’s rep,” said Rodan. We shook hands. The name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it.
“It is an honor to meet you Colonel, Rodan speaks highly of you,” she said. The way she said Rodan’s name, with a mixture of confidence and familiarity made me even more curious but the others were waiting.
I pointed at chair by the conference table, “Right this way.”
Rodan pulled the chair for her then took the one next to hers. She batted her eyes at him but he didn’t seem to notice. Whatever the connection between the two would have to wait. I nodded to Galeena.
“Our intel suggests that the terrorist are massing a fleet,” the image of a planet appeared over the table,”in geostationary orbit over Korlus. Former batarian members of the Blue Suns landed on the planet eighteen months ago and engaged other ex-Blue Suns troopers, mostly humans and turians, as well as a large number of tank born krogan. According to reports they raid an area for starship parts, hold it until they extract whatever they are looking for, then retreat back to the fleet.”
“Nothing but pirate gangs fighting each other for scraps,” said Sovik, a salarian diplomat and Council representative. Major Rentola, from STG, stared at him in disgust.
“Mr. Jatak?” I said
Jatak K’adar, Galeena’s contact with the abolitionist, and the man that escaped the slaver ship in a pod back on Arborea, stepped up, “We tracked multiple shipments of weapons, eezo and other materials to the same fleet in the last twelve months. Shipments that fit with the money transfers from Dah’tan Manufacturing in Camala. A large amount of eezo for an unknown purpose.”
“Plus, these very same pirates have attacked dozens of colonies in the last decade, raided hundreds of ships and enslaved thousands. And there is this,” I played a vid from the Alliance interrogation of Had’dah.
Your time is at an end humans. Soon, the Gods will rise from the Deep and cleanse the galaxy clean of your filth!
“These pirates are led by mad men like this. Men willing to commit mass murder of Alliance and Citadel citizens in broad daylight I may add,” I said.
“Well, yes, but, Korlus is in the the Terminus Systems,” said Sovik.
“We can always wait until the launch a major raid on a human, turian or even salarian colony. That is if Alliance and Turian forces were not already stretched thin across Citadel space. After who knows how many lives are lost I’m sure we could scrape up a force to hunt them down in their hiding places across the Terminus. Or we can take them down before they mobilize the fleet,” I said.
“How many?” asked Captain D’arqui.
“Twenty plus heavy transports converted into war frigates. Heavy barriers, sizable broadside batteries and GARDIAN point defense systems, but no armor or spinal mounts to speak off,” said Rodan.
“My cruiser task force is on standby. Just six cruisers, but more than a match for these raiders. But I don’t have enough ships to engage the fleet of that size and cover the local relay if they make a run for it,” said Captain D’arqui.
“We have four cruisers and two escort carriers available, plus a command ship. The fighters and cruisers can cover the relay for any runners and we can coordinate from the Daedalus,” I said.
“Meanwhile,” Sovik opened his mouth to interrupt Major Rentola but the Major stared him down, “our teams can raid those base areas and cut off their supplies, plus get more intel on their intentions and capabilities.”
“Then we are ready to go. Any more questions?” I asked.
“Yes, just one,” quipped Sovik, “What happens after this little operation of yours?”
I cracked a smile. The admiral warned me about this, “Then we go on to support Mr. Jatak’s people. The abolitionist have scarified much to hamper the rise of a new Hegemony. I think it is time to give them a chance to built an alternative, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course. A friendly batarian government would go a long way to stabilize the region,” said Sovik.
“Yes it would, Mr. Sovik.”
“Very well. I leave this in your capable hands, Colonel Thompson-Ramos, Good luck,” said Soovik. He left with Major Rentola in tow.
“I have to go and coordinate with the task force. It was good to see you again, Rodan,” said Captain D’arqui.
I walked over to him as the door closed behind her, “What was that all about?”
“Oh, that, nothing…just an old friend, well more than a friend. She is my ex,” said Rodan.
“Ex as in ex-wife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This won’t be a problem, I hope?” I asked.
“Of course not Colonel. She is a professional,” he said.
“Good answer. Prep the shuttle, we leave ten,” I said.
We exchanged a quick salute, “Yes sir.”
Mr. Jatak tapped me in the shoulder,” Colonel?”
“Yes?”
“I never had the chance to properly thank you for saving my life back in Arborea. Someone else would have simply turned me over to the local authorities,” he said.
“Captain Galeena made a convincing argument on your behalf, Mr. Jatak. Besides, the intel you provided saved a lot lives and may save many more,” I said.
“I hope so, Colonel. Perhaps one day humans and batarians might even call each other friends,” he said.
This trope…well this trope goes something like this:
“Oh, a new religion. How nice! Let’s see what we can do with it. Okay it has a Sky God, father figure to the other gods and mortals, lays down the law, and is the Lord of Creation. Cool. He has Son, who is kinda of shiny, and for some reason he died, but wait…he came back, somehow, okay, that’s cool. And there are some winged messengers, lets thrown them in too. And there is this other god of fire, or not him, yeah the guy who dwells in the Underworld, with the dead and stuff. Seems kinda of gloomy in there, not a very nice place. Maybe a place of punishment? I’m cool with that, which means that where the Sky Daddy hangs out must be a swell place….”
In other words, a writer when confronted with another non-Christian (or at least Judeo-Christian) religion (fictional or otherwise) tends to emphasize those aspects that are similar to Judeo-Christian tradition, or at least generally associated with them. In real life this phenomenon is know by two terms: syncretism and demonization.
Syncretism adapts like elements of other religions into another. Christianity did this with Judaism, Judaism did it with ancient Sumerian/Babylonian/Assyrian myths (from Garden of Eden to the Flood). The late C.S. Lewis followed the well worn path of the Cristian Apologist, who among other things claimed that the deities of other religions were simply imperfect representations of the true faith, i.e. Christianity. Even genius loci, that is patron deities and spirits who dwell in special places transform into patron saints of cities/nations and versions of the Mary/Saint of X.
Demonization is the process of subsuming other religions as demonic figures to be shunned or fought against in the current dominant religion. Ironically, while reviled, they become an important part of the religion as figures of evil and temptation.
Nor is it limited to Christianity. The Greeks and Romans used analogs of their own pantheons to describe deities of other peoples, be they Celt, Germanic or Egyptian and each other. Take for example Ares/Mars. Both are deities of war, but Ares is seen by the Greeks as a force of destructive passion, warfare for warfare sake that leads to nothing but blood letting and destruction. Mars, whom the Romans equated with Ares (as in they saw Ares as analogous with Mars) was a war deity, but one who was master of martial endeavors, the army and discipline/glory in battle. Fearsome, yes, but not a force of unrestrained destruction.
While it is natural to sort of fill in the blanks by appealing to this trope, as the page points out it can lead to a multitude of unfortunate implications such as the writers didn’t care, didn’t bother with research or simply think their viewers are morons (all bad tropes in their right).
I haven’t done one of these in ages, so I decided to fill a pleasant Sunday morning with a video from none other than Terry Jones. the first in a series produced by the BBC that tackles the Middle Ages and uncovers some fun, unusual and extremely interesting facts about that period of history. Made more fun by the antics of this Welsh Python.
