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Author Topic: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu  (Read 49252 times)

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Bradshaw

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #30 on: January 28, 2021, 04:15:51 PM »
Quote from: namar13766 on January 28, 2021, 03:37:38 PM
Perhaps they'll revamp older technologies, like Aerospace Fighter Turrets?

Always wondered why you couldn't recreate the equivalent of old Flying Fortress bombers with their turrets.
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namar13766

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #31 on: January 28, 2021, 04:33:43 PM »
Quote from: Bradshaw on January 28, 2021, 04:15:51 PM
Quote from: namar13766 on January 28, 2021, 03:37:38 PM
Perhaps they'll revamp older technologies, like Aerospace Fighter Turrets?

Always wondered why you couldn't recreate the equivalent of old Flying Fortress bombers with their turrets.

I suspect it would break the BT design rules, by making ASFs and Conventional Fighters capable of making oblique slashing attacks instead of just Front and Rear arcs. OTOH, the rules for designing starfighters in Renegade Legion do permit turrets, even multiple turrets.
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #32 on: January 28, 2021, 04:55:22 PM »
Well...  I considered something like it for my FighterShips, but thought it too munchie at the time.  I suppose it could reappear, the slayer and Leopard had one, right?

And yes, 'old tech's is about to come back.  I just have to draw it out a bit.  Mind you I'm going to skip the boring parts as much as possible or I'm going to die before he gets a Gray hair. 
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namar13766

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #33 on: January 28, 2021, 05:30:18 PM »
Quote from: Red Pins on January 28, 2021, 04:55:22 PM
Well...  I considered something like it for my FighterShips, but thought it too munchie at the time.  I suppose it could reappear, the slayer and Leopard had one, right?

And yes, 'old tech's is about to come back.  I just have to draw it out a bit.  Mind you I'm going to skip the boring parts as much as possible or I'm going to die before he gets a Gray hair.

Aerospace Turrets and Sponsons could be justified in being made by the New Clans because they work as a team unlike the DezClans.
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #34 on: January 28, 2021, 11:36:04 PM »
Quote from: namar13766 on January 28, 2021, 05:30:18 PM
Quote from: Red Pins on January 28, 2021, 04:55:22 PM
Well...  I considered something like it for my FighterShips, but thought it too munchie at the time.  I suppose it could reappear, the slayer and Leopard had one, right?

And yes, 'old tech's is about to come back.  I just have to draw it out a bit.  Mind you I'm going to skip the boring parts as much as possible or I'm going to die before he gets a Gray hair.

Aerospace Turrets and Sponsons could be justified in being made by the New Clans because they work as a team unlike the DezClans.

My headcanon has FighterShips (100-200 ton twin-engine Small Craft) flying in groups of three for protection during torpedo runs (Underslung Megaton-range Capital Missiles on anti-WarShip runs) and pairs for air-superiority variants.

I can see MAYBE one turret on the dorsal side, probably a flush or nearly flush ball turret.  If there's fluff, I'm going to mention that the turret doesn't alter the airflow with extruding muzzles no matter what the orientation is.
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #35 on: January 29, 2021, 12:21:19 AM »
^^^^^^^^^^^^

  It took almost as long to travel the last few kilometers as it did to inspect the facility, and despite the interest he felt in both the station and the different processes and materials being experimented on, he was aware they were basically once again going over data pioneered hundreds of years ago.  The concept continued to bother him during and after the fact, leading him to be cautious discussing future operations and funding with the station administrator, and it kept nagging at him after they had returned to the DropShip and gravity returned as crewmen assisted with the removal of their suits.

  In fact, the station, although competently operated and maintained, was limited to the slow pace of Kraken shipbuilding; although the Cluster as a whole was churning out Aquilla IIs as quickly as possible, there was enough duplication of effort to make the continued existence of the station a foregone conclusion if the Khan hadn’t insisted on maintaining its existence to create an independent shipbuilding industry purely from Clan resources.

  Seeing nothing that needed the Caste’s support to develop, he made the decision to explore removing the facility from the list of Scientist-supported projects, and returned to his cabin where he formally notified the station’s administrator of his decision and began writing the preliminary report to the Clan Council to transfer the station to control of the Technician Caste.  Day-to-day operation was more in the tradition of the Technicians, anyway, and as the Fortitude began the longer trip to their second stop, he belatedly called the station administrator to ask him to forward the names of Scientist Caste personnel, their roles and reason for working on the station.

  Bingo.  Every one of the technical specialists were members of the Caste who developed the process and were never replaced due to the ‘military requirement’ of production for the Kraken Touman.  Taking time to draft a quick note for the Clan Council and administrator, he pointed out enough time had passed for a reasonable turnover to Technician control, and Scientist resources would be reassigned shortly.

  Glad I’m out here after all, he thought resignedly.  I wonder how many more situations like this are out there?  More work for Bob and Mrs. Moseby, I guess.

  Ending the first day of his escape to space with more turmoil for the other Castes hadn’t been the plan, but it wasn’t like he could just ignore the situation.  He was developing a real urge to hunt down the former Chief Scientist and shake him down to find out what else was waiting to ambush him like this.

  At least the return of gravity to the Fortitude had left him with an appetite, and he closed the small workspace to go in search of the head to freshen up before heading to the mess.  The short trips back and forth across the system meant there would probably be enough fresh fruits and vegetables to ensure the crew were grateful enough for the presence of the VIPs to provide a welcome change in the fairly monotonous diet they put up with on longer trips, and he meant to take advantage of that to try and weasel his way onto the bridge to watch during the week-long trip.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

  The rest of the Wake facilities were almost a let-down; well established bases on hazardous atmospheric inner planets and the Warrior Caste’s crown jewel of the Wake system, the Anchor Yard, building the cargo ships the Clan’s economy desperately needed.  None of them were properly able to function without Scientist Caste support; rather than step further into the minefield of Clan politics, he made a formal appeal for teaching materials to the Council, reasoning growing their own Scientists would benefit all the Castes as it would reliably expand the pool of educated workers rather than hoping to attract qualified refugees, the supply of which was over-extended among the Clans and Civil Government as a whole.

  Ironically the Clan was lukewarm in their relations with the Frost Apes; a middling economic and military power, their homeworld of Da Vinci was the home of the Cluster’s sole University and their major source of income.  Becoming indebted to the ‘Flakey Apes’ on an ongoing basis wasn’t something he looked forward to arguing in front of the Council, but he didn’t see a better idea on the horizon.

  Saying goodbye to their new friends on the Fortitude took only a few minutes, although presenting the Captain with the care package sent up by Mrs. Moseby while the passengers moved awkwardly towards the hatch in microgravity brought a few smiles to the faces of the crew who were shipping out with the Fortitude on a tour of ‘tender duty’, ferrying raw materials from surface to orbit out on the Edge.  No doubt the fresh coffee and chocolates would be appreciated, but he had to wonder how much of it would be traded along the way.

  The single moon of Wake, Anchor was home to both a growing community of lunar-dwelling support staff for the Anchor Yards in orbit above it and a small boneyard of ships awaiting recycling.  The voyage to the Cluster was generally hard on the JumpShips found working in the Periphery of the Inner Sphere, most of them already in poor repair, and although the New Clans were willing to provide temporary repairs in exchange for crews and ships willing to ‘immigrate’, they were unable to do the kind of major repairs Yards in the Inner Sphere were able to provide.

  Those ships found themselves bought out as salvage, waiting on Yards like this one to crush and re-process its K-F core for one of the new Aquilla IIs.  At least most of the crews of those ships found themselves in high demand, able to trade shares of the value of their old ship for a stake in the new one, keeping them out of the gravity well with the rest of the groundlings.  Kraken was back from a tour of the Cluster’s Faction Worlds on schedule, Jumping in from Wake’s L2 point and beginning to boost back to Wake, where she would swing by for fresh supplies and passengers on her way back out, passengers included, and this time he had better things to do than try to write fiction again.

  Memories of his last trip on the flagship of the Kraken naval fleet made him shudder, but at least he should be able to have a private discussion about the bootleg alcohol with the pretty Engineer in private.  Perhaps on a tour of the military aspects of the ship; not being interested at the time he had skipped following the Khan about the ship looking at the bits that killed people and broke things, but if he had to win budget discussions to stir moribund Scientists from researching better materials to manufacture Jump sails from it might be easier if there was a gun on one end to interest the Khan.

  Which says how much of a challenge its going to be to do any planning for anything other than what they need right now.  I swear, this’ no way to run an interstellar civilization.  I wonder if anybody else worries about that?

  Still, the Anchor Yards beckoned, and the small craft to bring them to the station was on a schedule, too.  Bidding farewell to the Captain and crew remaining, he allowed the crew to assist him floating to the hatch where he joined the boarding line, being the last to board and securing himself in the seat next to Bob.  Bob was already secured and sealed, no surprise there, so rather than bother trying to talk to him he simply closed his suit’s faceplate and waited.

  Soon enough one of the crew of the small craft closed the hatch and moved along the aisle, holding a thumb up and waiting to receive a confirming gesture back until the rows of passengers confirmed they were secured and sealed.  Disappearing into the nose of the craft it took a moment before the familiar red warning strobe of the decompression warning began to light the interior, the lighting changing to the steady red and the now-familiar ‘thump’ of the shuttle released from its docking point in the bay marked the beginning of their little trip to the moon’s surface.

  The ovoid small craft made the trip in less than an hour as the faint gravity – About .4G, if I remember rightly – gradually took hold and the Pilot dropped them gently to the surface.  Familiar with the routine now, the rows of passengers waited for the ‘bus’ to be rolled out to pick them up.  As the lighting switched back to the steady white and the strobe began to flash, the crewman reversed his trip to stand by at the hatch until the gentle ‘thunk’ once again sounded.  Checking indicators and the sliding door of the check valve to physically check the air pressure on the other side of the hatch, the hatch was opened and he returned the thumbs up of the crewman to unstrap and gently push himself out of the seat until the magnetic boots landed on the deck with a gentle click and he approached the hatch and ladder waiting for him.

  Guided by the crewman, he came down the ladder easily to meet another waiting at the bottom who directed him to the front of the vehicle where a second waited to ensure he attached himself to a pole running from floor to ceiling and took ahold of the hand grip he was offered tightly.  Bob and the Security team joined him a few minutes later, and they began to talk about the experience on a separate channel from the rest of the passengers, all of whom moved quickly to their places with the assurance of experienced travelers.

  In minutes, the crew had returned to the controls in front of him, and the bus began moving across the lunar surface to pull alongside one of the large domes that slowly came into his field of vision from his place.  The familiar noises announced the final transfer to the base proper, and he concentrated on not flailing around when the hatch to his side opened to reveal a short walk to the airlock.  Taking six at a time, their party was met on the inside of the other hatch and hand signals confirmed they could open their face plates or helmets before being told to climb aboard the small electric vehicle waiting to take them deeper into the base.
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #36 on: January 29, 2021, 08:26:00 PM »
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #37 on: January 30, 2021, 10:24:55 AM »

^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Dr. Chu.  Nice to see you outside of a Council meeting.  So, what brings you to my corner of the sky?”  Chief Technician Marcus Shea, Commander of Anchor Base, the short, balding man was seated in the small briefing room in one of the custom skinsuits he had begun seeing among the permanent staff of the base.  Only middling height, he made up for it with a distinctive waxed van dyke mustache and bristly chin with more grey than brown.  Looking past him through large ports to the rows of seated technicians behind him keeping up a steady murmur as the business of the base continued, until one of the Security team closed the hatch behind Bob as the two of them entered the room.

  “Part familiarization tour, and part fact-finding mission, Mr. Shea.”  Carefully seating themselves at the square plain metal table with identical steel chairs, he leaned back in the light gravity as the chair came up to meet him.

  “As Chief Scientist, it comes as a shock to me that most of the Caste I’m responsible for aren’t actually doing anything to advance the state-of-the-art here in the Cluster.  It seems that despite having the smallest, least well-funded group in the Clan, most of the people that look to my office are scattered across facilities and occupied in trades relating to their academic credentials, but aren’t actually able to do anything about the situation.  I’m assuming the fraction of Scientists assigned to work are in the same boat.”

  “Correct.” Marcus admitted.  “Mind you, it seems to have been the Founder’s only choice to kickstart the industrial base that built all this,” he said as he twisted in his seat to wave at the port and the activity behind it.

  “I understand you’re a recent immigrant – how much do you know about the Cluster’s history?”

  “Not much,” he admitted.  “It’s becoming clear just how strapped for qualified - anything, practically – the Clans must have been after they were founded.  Just how bad is the situation?”

  Marcus leaned back in his own seat, grimacing under the mustache and beard.

  “Well,” he began.  “It’s not good, but it’s better than it was.  Originally, educated academics in major fields were mostly limited to agriculture, medicine, and what engineering specialties were considered essential for the original colonizing expedition.  The refugees from the Wolverine Annihilation had mostly military specialties before they followed the colonizing mission from the Periphery of the Federated Suns to head deeper into the Periphery to escape pirates.”

  “The generations of refugees herded towards the Cluster by scouts pretending to be pirates have helped to widen the educational base so we aren’t completely helpless, but the military-industrial complex is voracious.  Almost everything, in one way or another, supports the military.  And because the military gets the best toys, the military has most of the educated people in areas important to it.”

  Jeremy could see where that was headed.  “And so,” he interrupted.  “The Scientist Caste is going to remain independent in name only until something changes.  I’ve already sent requests for teaching materials and assistance from the Apes, but I’ll bet they’re in the same boat, too, aren’t they?”

  “Well,” Marcus began fiddling with the ends of his mustache.  “Yes, and no, of course.  They seem to have foreseen at least part of the conditions behind the lack of education in the Cluster and tried early on to minimize that problem.  Unfortunately, they’re now in the position to wag the dog.  They’re successful because they’re known to be successful, if you catch my drift.”

  Silence fell for a moment as Jeremy grappled with that for a moment before speaking again.

  “But the Prometheus Database?  What about that?”

  Marcus snorted.  “Tell me, have you heard the joke about Kerensky taking the Database and the SLDF with him, but forgetting the manual explaining how to build an industrial society from scratch?  No?  It’s not a joke, Dr. Chu.  Somehow, in all the confusion, no one realized they didn’t have everything.  There’s no index.”

  Marcus suddenly looked a little furtive, glancing at the two of them.  “Don’t spread that around.  Most people have no idea, they think it’s the Cluster’s ace-in-the-hole.”

  Suddenly, he felt a little queasy at the news.

  “No index…”  Pieces began to fall into place.  Good grief.  “Your WarShips-”

  “Clay pigeons, for the most part,” Marcus interrupted him, his voice grim.  “Fragile drives, short range Jumps, although the Jump Capacitor is new – adapted from SLN research just before the Amaris Coup.  Good freighters, though.”

  “You stripped the computers along with everything else?”

  Marcus nodded, his face expressionless.

  “Inner Sphere civilian merchant Jump controllers, electronics and software.  With armor and weapons slathered on like frosting.”

  “All of them have heavy fighter complements,” Marcus began.

  Jeremy interrupted him, waving his hand vigorously. I get the idea, already.  “Because they’re cheaper to make and upgrade, and fighters are attrition units already.”

  He felt like Sisyphus watching the rock roll downhill.  “Is there any point visiting the Heartforge facility?”

  Marcus pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side, clearly considering it.

  “Sure.  The Clan representatives there are some of the best-educated people in the Cluster.  It’s essentially what they used to call a ‘Think Tank’ though.  Just be very, very careful getting there.”

  He could feel his eyebrows furrow, and Marcus must have been expecting the puzzled look because he smiled.

  “The ‘Raptors and Cave Frogs are fighting over it, and you know it’s serious when both sides start bringing in front-line SLDF-era equipment.  Make sure you have both sides clear your approach, or else.”

  Suddenly, it was all too much, and he started to get up, only to accidentally jump into the air.  I need a drink.

  He must have at least mumbled that aloud, because Marcus kept smiling as he came slowly out of his own chair.

  “I hear the Kraken has the best Screech in the whole fleet.  Try asking the Chief Engineer.”
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #38 on: February 01, 2021, 08:12:11 PM »
<Chapter 3>

  He ended up taking the tour anyway, sitting on one of the small electric jitneys seemingly everywhere in the facility, mostly lost in thought as Bob and the Security men watched the salvaged equipment get pieced back together and reassembled into larger components before being packed into shipping containers and taken to be loaded into DropShips for delivery to the actual Yards in orbit above them.

  The overnight stay in the base’s temporary accommodations left him with nothing else to do but wallow in misery for the next twelve hours, waiting for the shuttle for the short flight to the station and transfer to the Kraken as she Jumped out of the system.  Now that he knew what to look for, he could piece together the reasoning behind some of the – unique – circumstances he had dismissed as somehow normal for a growing colony.

  Finally going to bed late in the ‘Day’ cycle, he had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he had first thought, but there were definitely going to be changes made when he got back to the office, and he found himself pacing his quarters like a caged animal.  The New Clans and Civil Government had survived Annihilation and civil war, had resources and advantages other Periphery nations would have killed for – but were they using those benefits to the fullest extent?

  Their guide had confirmed Anchor Base had been originally a cluster of decommissioned dropships, and that they were still in use for various purposes that weren’t part of the VIP tour, but the remainder of the base had been slowly assembled in pre-fabricated pieces in the Yard.  The hit-or-miss quality of the earlier portions made suits mandatory outside of the double- and triple-checked residential areas of the base, where the families of the workers were almost held hostage to the airless environment.

  Bob was at once grim and proud when he explained the efforts to provide secure shelters, decent food and a living wage to the workers struggling to house and feed their dependents in exchange for the sometimes back-breaking and dangerous work to help the Clan succeed despite the way the military absorbed the largest portion of the pie.  The way he described the living and working conditions of Citizens of the Civil Government was enough to explain the attitude of the normally taciturn aide, and he was absolutely sure it was because at some point Bob had escaped with his family to join one of the New Clans.

  Jeremy had been taken aback, realizing his academic credentials were the only thing about him that had kept him from being dropped into the soup lines and migrant labor he had never known were the common lot of immigrants not snapped up by the competing Clans.  It had made him look at the other man and realize it wasn’t ambition and jealousy that tortured the older man, but the burning desire to end the wretched conditions the Citizens found themselves in as quickly as possible.

  He hadn’t clawed his way to the top of the Caste Administration out of a sense of self-importance, ego or pride, he had altruistic motives that needed the kinds of influence and authority he could gather from the support of a senior member of the Clan.  Like the Chief Scientist, who had waltzed into one of the senior positions of the government after being in the Cluster for less than a week.

  Well, it explains Bob’s attitude, he thought as he finally decided to get ready for bed.  I wonder how much Mrs. Moseby’s formality is a reflection of that as well?

^^^^^^^^^^^^

  “Dr. Chu, are you awake?”

  Waking in the morning was a confused blend of hotel room and low-G, finding himself suddenly awake to Bob’s banging on the hatch and voice.  Somehow, he had lost the pillow during the night and forgotten to set an alarm.  Looking around the room and jackknifing upright in bed had the unfortunate side effect of pulling him out from under the covers and propelling him off the bed to land on the floor in a flailing heap.  Not exactly a good start to the day, he thought.

  “I’m up!  Thanks, Bob.” 

  Carefully getting to his feet and grabbing yesterday’s jumpsuit he quickly stripped the bed and started to empty it for the next occupant, opening the hatch and nearly colliding with Bob who was standing motionless in the hall with a pair of bulbs in his hands.  Recoiling from the near collision, Bob held out one of the bulbs, saying, “Can we take that for you, Dr.?”

  Hesitating for a second, Jeremy reached out for the bulb and helped transfer the wad of bedding to Gary, already dressed in his suit and ready for the trip to the Station.  Left in private for a moment, Jeremy seized the moment to speak privately with the man.

  “Bob, I need to talk to you for a minute,” he began.  “I think we’ve gotten off on a bit of the wrong foot.  The situation is more, well – deeper, than I thought.  Things are going to have to change, and I’m going to need your help.”

  Bob’s response was a non-committal, “Of course, Dr. Chu.”

  Jeremy knew it wasn’t going to be enough.  Willing servitude, the professor had said, was a poor substitute for eager subordinates to act on their own initiative.  Right again, Professor.  Turning to walk slowly down the hall, he continued talking.

  “Call me ‘Jimmy’, Bob.”  He drifted to a stop, sipping from the warm bulb, eyeing the other man.  The older man’s close-cut brown hair was beginning to thin on top, but the reasonably strong face was back in his habitual non-committal, blank face.  Lanky arms and legs without the belly he had found common among most of the senior administrators of the Caste, Bob was notably unassuming.

  “Eight weeks ago, I understood I was being inaugurated as a head of state, Bob.  That lasted a week or so.  Then, I thought I was actually a scientific advisor and government official for the next couple.  I kept making assumptions, making an ass out of both of us, while I thought I was acting head of some kind of government project or something, and yesterday I was told I’m essentially a union organizer, and about as popular.”

  “I’m willing to eat crow.  I’ve eaten crow before, and I have little doubt there will be heaping plates in the future, Bob.  Some of this is your fault, too.  You could see my head was as swollen as a balloon.”
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #39 on: February 03, 2021, 01:12:46 AM »
I'm having to re-write another couple days worth of writing - I didn't like the conspiracy-theory direction.  Should have another update tomorrow.
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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #40 on: February 03, 2021, 09:36:07 PM »
  Finished, he started drifting toward the end of the hall.  “I’m going to get the Caste organized and productive again but if you’re going to stay on we need to be able to work together, and if you can’t, then maybe you should retire, too.”

  Jeremy took a sip of coffee, trying to give him a moment to collect his wits.  When the silence started to drag on awkwardly, he reached out and took Bob by the elbow to begin walking down the hall at a brisk pace.  “The Cluster has had over two hundred years to develop an industrial base and contact with the Clans and Inner Sphere besides.  There should be enough educated, talented and creative people to take advantage of that.”   

  Bob seemed to be thinking now, at least, brushing off his hand and walking on his own. Good.  We are so going to have a long talk on a short trip, right after breakfast, Bob.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

  The wait to don their borrowed suits and be shuttled to the Station seemed to take forever but eventually, the chance came for them to discuss the situation.  Strapping in and pulling a communication plug from the small reel mounted in the chest of his suit, he plugged it into a socket next to a similar reel on Bob’s suit.  Taking care to push the correct channel indicator on Bob’s chest - the symbol on the button was either partially covered with grime or faded with use – he gave Bob a thumbs up and leaned back in the seat for Bob to repeat the process

  “Bob?”

  “Here.”

  Jeremy could feel himself scowling, as he tried to keep his voice low.  “Bob, we have nineteen minutes.  Don’t make me play Twenty Questions.  What do we do to get the Caste off their duffs, and why haven’t I seen more proposals and requests cross my desk?”

    Bob was silent for a few seconds before answering.  Hoping he was just gathering his thoughts, Jeremy waited impatiently.  “Most of the Caste is taking advantage of the Star League Database.  Just – data-mining, confirming hypotheses.  There’s no need to risk developing something new with the Star League’s example in front of them.”

  Bob seemed to recover some of his nerve, because his voice steadied and became more intense.  “There were only a couple of proposals I saw trying to explore new concepts in the last decade, Dr. Szech preferred to leave them to the Frost Apes and DVU or the IlKhan’s JDP rather than risk trying to develop them ourselves.”

  Jeremy was quiet for a moment.  “So.  Most of the Caste isn’t trying, and hasn’t needed to.  How are they able to do that without an Index?”

  “Keyword and image searches.”

  Jeremy scowled again.  “Delightful.”  A few minutes passed, as he began considering the situation, and the shuttle began the docking procedure as time ran out.

  “All right.  We’re out of time for now, but I want Mrs. Moseby and the rest of the staff to go over the refused proposals and requests going back for at least two decades and maybe more.  I want a focus on economic benefit first, then scientific discovery and military concerns last.  We’ll go over this again tonight on the Station, and I want to hear if you remember anything noteworthy.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Anchor Station lived up on the hype, Jeremy thought.  The unpressurized, open scaffolding of the Yard framed a nearly completed Aquilla II, what the guide called a Tycoon-Class JumpShip – an upgraded and modernized version of the Hegemony’s Liberator-class JumpShip, the first design utilizing exterior mounts for DropShips – and a pair of pressurized DropShip slips with Mule-Class DropShips about half-way built.  The remainder of the station was just as impressive, as three pairs of counter-rotating grav decks provided the housing for the large workforce.  Seen from space against the backdrop of Anchor and the lights of the Base, it was an inspiring – and a little frightening – example of what the billions of dollars invested in the yards over the years and a single-minded effort to create a space-going civilization could do.

  The guide proudly informed them the design had been chosen as the Cluster standard for shipyards still under construction by Clans who had chosen to delay their own construction until a proven design became available.  In the meantime, the Yard continued to pump out a single upgraded variant of the Aquilla II every eighteen months, about a quarter of which were intended for the Kraken Touman.  He was surprised the Yards were still building the design, but their guide pointed out that the IlKhan and his Wolverine supporters had blocked ‘small’ Yards like the Kraken’s from building modern vessels, reserving them for federal forces.  Still, he supposed keeping an armed freighter capable of dealing with trouble in the Edge and the helpless JumpShips on the major freight lanes where charging stations and escorts kept them safe made sense.

  It also keeps word of the Cluster from traveling too far, too fast for pursuit to catch them, he noted. People on top of the heap in the Cluster naturally had the most to lose if the Inner Sphere became aware of them, to say nothing of the Annihilation Kerensky’s ‘dezClans’ might try and enforce. 

  Eventually, the tour and their time in suits came to an end behind the double hulls of the habitation rings, and as tired as any of their group was Jeremy insisted on finishing what he had started that morning.  Which meant taking advantage of Bob’s organizational skills to convene a meeting of the immediate staff from the Yallow office to put things in motion before the staff moved back to the Wake compound and travel time made it impossible to coordinate without inconvenient delays.  Despite isolating himself from the center of the Scientist Caste’s administration, he had not been ignoring it, and the time spent figuring out which levers to pull began to pay off.

  Satisfied, he had Bob cancel the next day’s events, and ordered the rest of the party to stand down and get some rest – Kraken was due at the L2 point to take on the last of the cargo and passengers going out-system and until they arrived at Motte and the Heartforge facility, it was likely they would be trying to acclimatize to zero-G for most of the next two months, sending and receiving reports through the Cluster’s hidden network of FTL comms.
« Last Edit: February 06, 2021, 01:56:16 AM by Red Pins »
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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #41 on: February 06, 2021, 01:42:13 AM »
^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Welcome aboard, sir.”

  Jeremy nodded back to the Captain, going in for the handshake and following the man with Gary in tow to observe whatever species of formality his rank required under the circumstances, now that the bulky suits were removed with the crew’s help while Bob made arrangements to have their luggage brought to their quarters.  Listening to the clicking of the magnetic boots on the deck, he idly noted the Captain wore another of the custom skinsuits, despite the time in the ship’s day and how unlikely it seemed he would need it.  Commenting about it as the Captain guided him through the companionways and hatches to his quarters brought an interesting reason for the seeming incongruous dress aboard ship; military readiness.

  “The Aquilla isn’t a modern WarShip, sir.  We can fake it well enough to get along and a Squadron could offer resistance to anything smaller than a Heavy Cruiser, but these ships are meant to go into the Edge and bully freighters and DropShips.  In case Pirates or explorers somehow make it this far out of the Inner Sphere, we should be able to keep them from escaping before the federal forces can assemble and sail to try and capture them using the FTL Comms and sensor net to cut them off.”

  “But Squadrons are rare, meaning it’s far more likely that an individual ship could be overwhelmed, and what with each ship carrying enough nukes and ranged weapons to batter through their own armor several times over..”

  The Captain turned and paused in the companionway as he returned the salute of one of the ship’s engineers, who handed Jeremy a piece of paper with the code for the alpha-numeric keypad to open and secure the hatch.  Familiar with the procedure to secure his quarters, he accepted the code and entered it to open the hatch.  The waiting technician saluted again and turned to return to whatever task had been interrupted by the little ritual, and the Captain began to speak again as Jeremy took a first look at the quarters he’d be using for the next few weeks, then closed and the hatch as Gary and Jeff took up positions beside it.

  “At least some of the crew needs to be able to respond in case of an ambush capable of cracking the hull, and the armored suits issued for the Marines really aren’t suitable for long-duration use – they’re too large and unwieldy for most duties, and too expensive for standard issue across the Clans.  Crews receive subsidies to buy and maintain them and are encouraged to wear them on duty in case of ambush and explosive decompression.  They aren’t bad once you get used to them.”

  “I see,” Jeremy said, standing at the hatch.

  “Plus, they keep you alive.  Clan regulations call for either venting or pumping down the atmosphere at battlestations, to reduce the damage of enemy weapons fire, but pumping down every time you Jump into a new star system puts too much wear on the ship and crew.  Enough crew to fight the ship are kept on standby during transit, and crew and passengers are safe in sealed compartments for Jump.  If the worst case happens, they might be able to trigger the K-F Capacitor fast enough to save the ship, otherwise all that happens is a fifteen-minute lockdown on both sides of the Jump.”

  “I’ll see you for supper tonight in the Wardroom after we jump out, sir.  I understand the new AR-15’s have been authorized for development, I’m sure my officers will be keen to hear more about them then.”

  “Of course, Captain.  Thanks for the invitation, and I’ll see you after Jump.”

  Closing the hatch he settled down to wait for Bob and the rest of the group to deliver the luggage to their quarters and wait for the jump alarm before trying to go for lunch.  Hopefully, Mrs. Moseby would come through with at least some information on the failed proposals before they jumped out.

^^^^^^^^^^^^
  The VIP lounge was still open, but subtly different from the last time he was aboard; he was the big fish in the pond this time, and while he had no complaints about the way the Khan and his entourage had run things, he quickly took Bob and the team aside and made sure they understood that they represented the Caste and not to screw up like he had.

  Which reminds me, I need to talk to the Engineer about her Screech tonight.

  Mrs. Moseby and her coworkers had come through; data files with information on what Jeremy considered, ‘the shakers’ had arrived before Kraken had jumped out and as the ship accelerated at a steady 1G towards the single inhabitable planet on the other side of the hyper limit, he and Bob had taken the files and begun to probe deeper into things like cost/benefit analysis, technology, and risk assessment to try and determine why they had been refused.  It had always struck him that risk meant different things to different people; Dr. Szech seemed to have considered it mostly as something to avoid.

  Bob had been a little abashed, seeing the pattern of conservative gambles over his mentor’s administration spread out over the same conference table they had worked on the last time they had been aboard, whereas Jeremy had little illusion that his own would be any better, having been forced to watch and listen as Professor Andrew’s successor belittled two decades of academic achievement before his own firing.  Still, Bob’s organization skills made it clear that most of the failed proposals had concerned materials, theoretical research, and refinement of late star League-era technology, all of which would have required more funds and lead time for any benefits to the Clan than the former Chief Scientist had been willing to consider.

  On reflection, he could see the reasoning behind it as Chief Scientist.  However…  Mrs. Moseby had included the information on the recently accepted and denied proposals he himself had gone over, and Bob’s blank face was a polite indictment. I'm already guilty of the same thing, he realized, putting aside an intriguing experiment due to cost. 

  Easy enough to fix, he thought resignedly.  Not.

  “Bob, I’m walking to the Lounge for coffee and a snack.  Want anything?”

  Taking orders from the rest of the team and Gary for an extra pair of hands, he trudged back to the familiar Lounge for bulbs of coffee and a treat for himself.

Might be time to cut down on the treats, he noted.  Academics normally led happily sedentary lives, but healthy Academics led longer, more miserable ones.  Shrugging, he took one of the pastries from the container beside the coffee and with hands full of bulbs and snacks turned back to lead the way back to work.  The ship was a bad place to start a diet or exercise program, but he could always start when he got back to the office.
« Last Edit: February 06, 2021, 01:43:19 AM by Red Pins »
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Red Pins

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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #42 on: February 07, 2021, 01:44:10 AM »
  “Having a hard time choosing, Dr. Chu?”

  Surprised at the familiar voice, he turned to see the smiling face of the Chief Engineer in a jumpsuit similar to his own walking into the Lounge.

  “Commander!  Ah, sorry, Commander…?”

  “Ciara Murphy.”

  “Thank you.  No,” he said as he grimaced, “Just coming to the awkward realization that pant sizes aren’t simply suggestions.  How are you today?  I would have thought you’d be busy.”

  The engineer rolled her eyes and shrugged.  “TDS.  With some sickbags and the right meds I’m only cranky and inconvenienced for a few hours, but with enough warning I make sure to alter my schedule to spend them in my quarters rather than on duty.”

  Jeremy nodded.  “Weren’t you raised on a JumpShip?  I’d think that would have been crippling growing up.”

  “It was a side effect of a rather nasty encounter with pirates when I was sixteen.  My sister and I were left on the hull, inside the Hyperspace fields when the ship Jumped.”

  “I see.  Well,” he said, “I have to get back to work, sorry.  Oh, I need to talk to you about something later, too.”

  “Oh,” Ciara said brightly.  “Did my proposal get approved?”

  “Was yours the Jump experiment?”

  “Yes!”

  “Kind of,” Jeremy hedged.  “But what I really wanted to find out about was that illegal liquor aboard ship.”

  “Oh,” she said, the disappointment evident in her voice.  “Well, since your bulbs are getting cold, we can talk on the way, and maybe I can change your mind.”

  “Of course, thank you,” he said turning to Greg, already waiting at the hatch.  “Go ahead, Greg, I’ll catch up, thanks.”

  Seeing the guard turn and walk ahead, he started ambling toward the hatch.  “So.  Isn’t it illegal to distill alcohol aboard ship in the Navy?  What’s going on?”

  “Yes and no, sir,” she said.  “Yes, there is a prohibition on illegal alcohol in most military organizations.  But, the Navy has no regulation forbidding it if no concerns are raised by the Captain and no injuries are proven by Navy investigators.”

  “Really?  It seems a dangerous tightrope to be walking, if you don’t mind my saying so.  What reward is there in it for you?”

Ciara shrugged.  “According to tradition, the survivors of the Annihilation were overwhelmed by the death and destruction they’d witnessed, and the drugs and alcohol available ran out quickly.  Illegal stills, labs and the black market were everywhere, and their quality was every bit as bad as you might expect.  The Captain ordered his Chief Engineer to do something about the problem, and since the Captain was the final authority aboard the ship, nobody could do anything about it.”

  Turning to close the hatch, she looked up at him as he waited patiently for her to finish before continuing to walk slowly down the companionway.

  “The Chief Engineer produced enough to shut out the competitors, regulated it, checked it for toxins and rationed it in small doses to survivors under voluntary lockdown with the few mental health experts available to work through the trauma.  When I reported aboard, I was ordered to follow tradition and produce a small amount on a weekly basis for the crew.”

  Stopping and turning to look up at him, she continued.  “They even have a yearly competition between ships, judged by some of the producers here in the Cluster.  So far, I’ve been able to satisfy tradition and keep us in first place, but some of the aficionados of the stuff in the fleet are always trying to up their game.”

Gah.  “What proof are we talking about here?”

  She shrugged, again.  “About 90% alcohol.  It’s the lowest I can go and still produce the ‘Real Thing’.”

  “Why is it called ‘Screech’?”

  “Tradition,” she admitted with a sheepish smile as she dropped her eyes to the deck.  “My family has always been sailors, and then spacers after the First Exodus.  One of my ancestors married a Canadian, and ‘Screech’ was family slang for anything high proof or illegal.  So, when I had my first drinkable batch, I called it ‘Screech’.

  “Tradition,” Jeremy murmured.  “Jesus.  No wonder I didn’t remember much the night before.  Hang on.”

  Coming into sight of Gary and the conference room, he took the opportunity to divest himself of the rest of the coffee bulbs and waved her into the room with him.

  “So,” he began.  “Your proposal was one of nearly thirty original proposals Bob and I are looking at here.  None of these were chosen for funding and further investigation despite their potential.”

  “It wasn’t approved?”

  Lowering himself into one of the chairs at the midpoint of the table, he shook his head as Ciara came up beside him. 

  “No, and it may have been the first – certainly the second – major mistake of my administration.  You see, it concerns risk.  Risk of failure, expense, time, materials – and standing.  Reputation.  Because rivals in academic circles are just as unforgiving as the thugs with guns in the Warrior Caste, albeit with fewer explosions.”
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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #43 on: February 07, 2021, 02:33:25 PM »
  Turning to wave a hand at Bob, he took the data pad the man had been holding.

  “For example…  This proposal suggested exploring a new method of JumpShip manufacture, exploring fluid dynamics and…  Molds and forms.  Essentially, to ‘pour’ or ‘inject’ a structure, taking advantage here of the lack of stress on structural integrity to speed construction.”  Getting up and passing the pad back to Bob, he continued as the other man made a note on the pad and put it back into place on the table.

  “This end of the table,” he said, waving to his right, “Involves things like new battery design and composition, Hyperspace ‘band’ research – all speculative theory that requires funding and investment to disprove.”

  “This end,” he said with his voice lowered into a growl, “Are proposals to investigate known issues in all kinds of fields to find solutions not found in the Prometheus Database, like your own proposal to quantify variables involved in the calculations behind ‘bad’ Hyperspace Jumps.”

  “The problem,” he said disgustedly and falling back into his chair again, “is to pick one – or several – that might be feasible with the limited technological expertise in the Cluster, using limited materials and sacrificing production at some facilities in high demand to risk my reputation and budget in the hope something good might come of it besides just getting me out from under the foot of the Khan and his Merchant lackey.  I need a win, something to prove the Scientist Caste is worth the expense of keeping us in our labs rather than the production lines.”

  Ciara cocked her head as he leaned back and took a sip of the hot coffee.  “How are you selecting these files?”, she asked, her voice thoughtful.

  “Twenty years of refused proposals and grant requests.  It turns out the Scientist Caste has been cherry picking which questions to ask based on the availability of Star league historical research in the database,” he said gloomily.  “Proposals like yours, with real-world applications but no ‘road map’ to solutions have been seen as too high a risk.  Reading your proposal, I wanted to approve it, but the cost – political and economic – was too high.”

  Silence fell as Bob kept making notes on the pads, and Jeremy took a longer pull on his coffee.

  “So,” said Ciara, drawing the word out, looking at the ‘practical’ side of the table.  “You’ve found what questions to ask.  You’re trying to lower the political and economic cost of asking those questions.”

  She stated unpacking the chair next to him, then sat and leaned back beside him.  “Have you designed and compared the methods involved?  I tried suggesting the use of existing assets that weren’t economic to repair to try and reduce cost.  How did the Star League try to do it?”

  “They threw money at it,” he said sourly.  Ciara’s giggle brought a smirk to Bob’s face.

  Traitor.

  “Alright, how did everybody else deal with it?”

  Looking up, Bob interjected, “They threw the Star League at it?”

  Traitors.

  Rolling his eyes at the laughter and getting up to walk over to the room’s recycling bin for the empty bulbs, he had a thought.  As a theoretical physicist he knew the history involved in the Deimos Project, humanity’s first attempt to create a working FTL drive and the political upheaval that surrounded it.

  A trillion-dollar gambit.  Jeremy looked at the bulb in his hand.  They didn’t scale it up immediately.  They used the bare-bones required to prove the concept.  What happened to those plans?

  “Bob.  The original probe from the Deimos Project.  What do we know about it?”

  Taking the bulb with him as he crossed the room, he slipped the anchor off a sliding wall panel to reveal a stark whiteboard underneath for presentations, taking one of the colored markers.

  Busying himself for a moment with his pad, Bob answered.  “Nothing in the ship’s computer.”
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Re: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu
« Reply #44 on: February 09, 2021, 01:08:37 AM »
  Of course not.  “Go through the office and get Mrs. Moseby to add it to the list.  If possible, have the data ready for us at the Heartforge facility when we arrive.”

  Staring at the white board, Jeremy started with a large oval, drawing slashes through it as he talked.  “It was small, a K-F drive, battery and minimal computer support in a box to hold it together.  We can’t design the drive ourselves, but we can make copies.  Computer support…”  He trailed off.

  “I imagine we can take something from the salvage line.  Boxes…  Depends on whether or not the equipment can operate in vacuum.”

  “What else is in those files?”, asked Ciara.

  “Sorry,” Jeremy said.  “For now, we have to start looking for the authors to confirm they’re still interested, ask them to re-submit or get their approval to do it ourselves, start the investigation process, then follow-up with peer review and budget analysis.  Somewhere along the way, we’ll have to send a request to check the PD for relevant information, but that won’t happen soon.”

  “Wow.  How long-?”

  “If everything goes right?  We should see results in a few years.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^

  “How long will the new launcher be in development, then?”, asked the Captain.

  Jeremy put down his knife and fork on the empty plate in front of him and leaned back.  “Rough estimate, given that the plans are in our hands but nothing else?  Five years minimum, probably ten for the production version.”

The Captain frowned.  “That seems a long time for something so simple.”

  “Not really,” Jeremy replied.  “The AR-10 is a proven design, but it’s designed for missiles much larger than the ones the AR-15 is supposed to use.  Scaling down the design works for us in some ways, but the feed system won’t be the same.  How do you merge the two?  What will probably happen, is that the original plans will be used as a guide for Scientists and Technicians to begin designing the new system from scratch.  There are ways to cut that down, of course, but that costs money, time and production all along the line.  That seems unlikely to happen, so…”

  “You don’t seem to be in favor of it, is that it?

  “No,” Jeremy replied evenly.  “This is the normal procedure and timeline you might expect from any large administration.”

  “We aren’t used to being put on the back burner,” the First Officer said in the same even tones.  Captain replied in the same even tones.

  “You aren’t.  But besides making sure the design team has the funds and authority to do their jobs there isn’t much I can do.”

  “What can you do to fix this, then?”, pressed the officer.

  Jeremy could feel his face getting flushed under the silent stares of the rest of the table.  “I can suggest you send a message to the Khan, complaining that Scientist Caste funds and personnel are being redirected from research roles that might have shortened development time to build components for the Technician and Warrior Castes.”

  Silence greeted the last answer, so Jeremy expanded on it.

  “The previous administration conceded to the demands of the Clan to take a more active role in the defense of the Cluster, and we have.  Those chickens are coming home to roost as people with the qualifications needed are rotated out of the production lines and sent back to their offices, to spend their first six months re-familiarizing themselves with their academic skills before trying to design Naval equipment that isn’t going to break down so badly they have to go back and redesign it.

  “In which case, this system, the Caste and the Clan will become the new laughingstock of the Cluster.”

  Clearly trying to defuse the situation, the Captain took a moment to sample the wine untouched in front of him.  “We aren’t used to waiting for what we want.”

  Jeremy held up his hands placatingly.  “You’ll get what you want, but it seems unlikely you’ll get it as fast as you want.  I’ve already sent a request to the Khan that we offer to share the finished designs with the IlKhan’s Joint Development Program to speed things up and share the cost, but it’s up to the Khan.  That’s all I can tell you.”

  Leaning back in the chair with his own wineglass after the intense conversation, Jeremy tried to seem nonchalant, but felt a little concerned.  These crybabies…  Words fail me.  Morons.

  “How did an entire Caste manage to be so unprepared?  Who was in charge of oversight?”, asked another officer.

  Jeremy put the wineglass carefully back on the table.  “My predecessor, a Dr. Szech.”

  “What are you doing to fix this,” demanded the Captain.

  Jeremy could feel his face tighten as his hosts continued to harangue him.  “Among other things, I’ve asked for my personnel back.  I’ve also taken steps to encourage Scientists to submit new proposals and grant requests rather than rely on data searches from the PD to blindly follow the Star League’s development path-“

  “How is that going to fix the problem?  Why not just tell them to do it, and light a fire under them to make them work harder on it?”, the Captain demanded.

  Jeremy paused, staring steadily at the Captain for a few seconds before answering.

  “Because, Captain, Scientists are not green recruits learning how to march.”
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