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<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 7968037" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p>By all accounts their wedding was very small and very cheap. Guo had no family and very few of Haylia’s kin could stomach the sight of him. What few mutual friends they had did their best to make it a festive affair, Dizzy being the best of them. Though he rarely spent much time outside his club since those days, Dizzy had a great memory and a talent for sharing stories. Keren learned more about her own parents from him than anyone else, including a few details about their early marriage. On the few occasions he described that period, before she and Sheren were born, Keren couldn’t help but notice he was usually itching to reach for bourbon. She also knew for a fact he wouldn’t dare speak about it if Guo was still here.</p><p></p><p>A warbling static sounded over speakers above the bar and elsewhere in the club followed by the haughty, imperious voice of <em>Executor</em>, the stations AI. <em><strong><span style="font-family: 'tahoma'"><span style="color: rgb(65, 168, 95)">…Attention, unclassified vessel approaching Ashkelon Station. Priority-Alpha docking status. Access to all decks.</span></span></strong></em> …and then the message repeated.</p><p></p><p>Executor only used the term, ‘unclassified’ to describe craft with confidential or classified registries. In the ICSC these could include any vessel carrying corporate executives, exceptionally high-value cargo haulers, survey and reconnaissance craft, expensive research vessels, prototype spacecraft, or any ship of their own military.</p><p></p><p>Whenever Executor pronounced arrivals as if rolling out a red carpet Keren visualized Elsie rolling her eyes back in spacedock. Executor’s aloof, matter-of-fact tone set the status-quo as clearly as its own programming. Executor was more than a mere functionary or facilitator; it was the gatekeeper to the whole station. It was even possible the announcement occurred before the station administrator was even aware of the arrival.</p><p></p><p>Straightening up in her posture Keren looked towards the large outer viewports hoping to catch a glimpse of this ‘unclassified’ vessel. It didn’t take long. It was at least twice the size of an M-Class freighter, bristling with long-range antennae and sensor arrays. The sight of it furrowed her brow and piqued her curiosity.</p><p></p><p>Her sense of melancholy forgotten Keren slipped off the stool and walked around the bar to get a closer look. A few others had the same idea. Past the thick synthetic quartz glass the warship drifted closer. There was no doubt it could be anything else, though the exact type and design was unfamiliar to her. The ICSC’s ‘Navy’ was little more than a ragged, disparate fleet of older mercenary destroyers, each employed by individual corporations within the CSC. Compared to those old wrecks, this was something else entirely.</p><p></p><p>Ashkelon Station may have been at the edge of known space but it was also near to Liberty Echo, main naval base of the United Americas Outer Rim Defense Fleet. Colonial Marine warships passed near the station fairly regularly, and Keren was more aware than most civilians about their armaments and capabilities. She was able to identify the difference between a laser or a rail gun turret, but there were only a few of those visible on the sleek hull. One very large, prominent cannon barrel of some sort extended out from the nose by at least twenty five meters.</p><p></p><p>“Looks like a Marlin!” A voice to her right commented with a slight drawl and half a chuckle.</p><p></p><p>Keren recognized the voice of <em>Ross Henry Karnes</em> before she even glanced over to confirm it. She was a tad bit surprised at how easily he moved up in her blind spot. Keren wasn’t usually caught off guard. The ICC inspector was dressed casually (of a fashion) in cowboy boots, denim jeans and a grey/green patterned long sleeve shirt. Around his waist was a genuine cow-hide belt with a broad steel buckle. Some of the other inspectors took to calling him ‘Red’ due to his ginger-colored hair.</p><p></p><p>“What’s a Marlin?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“It’s a fish! Or should I say, was a fish before pollution and over-fishing killed them off,” he explained producing a pack of cigarettes tapping on the bottom in the highly ritualized and measured way a practiced smoker did. “They had great long spears jutting out from their skulls which meant you had better be careful pulling one unto your boat.”</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile the sleek warship drew close enough for an extended docking umbilical, carefully firing its thrusters to match the stations precise orbit above GL382. Upon its smooth charcoal-grey hull there was little in the way of identifying markings or insignia except for two things. Upon the tallest sail like structure amidships was a stylized orchid-flower, bright red-over-white with five petals. Most tellingly, near the bow, the words <em><strong>USCS Kowloon</strong></em> were stenciled boldly in white.</p><p></p><p>Keren found herself intrigued by this fish Ross spoke of as much as this new ship. She knew he was referring to the great oceans of Earth of course, not that she’d ever had the pleasure of visiting that blue planet. Out here there was almost nothing in the way of nature to learn about, much less see with her own eyes. “How large were they?” she asked.</p><p></p><p>Ross expertly flicked two cigarettes up out of his pack and gestured towards her politely. She noted the brand was one of the few still made from genuine earth-grown tobacco. Despite the fact she never particularly liked him she found herself reaching for one. Ross was arrogant and uptight most of the time. He cursed at her and the other techs in the loud, self-important way some men from Texas were known to do.</p><p></p><p>“They were plenty big!” he says with a slight grin. “The Atlantic Blue Marlin could reach over five meters in length and weigh over eight hundred kilograms. More impressive still, they were some of the fastest swimmers in the sea.”</p><p></p><p>Keren leaned close towards him as he lifted an old-fashioned zippo lighter towards her politely. The scent of booze was on his breath but she also noted he wasn’t stealing a glance down her low-cut blouse. In fact he wasn’t much looking at her at all, and not because he was embarrassed. She realized at that moment that he hadn’t yet recognized her. How funny.</p><p></p><p>“So they could easily kill a man?” she asked taking a puff of the flavorful smoke. <em>Damn these are good cigarettes.</em></p><p></p><p>“Definitely!” Ross said lighting one for himself. “Swordfish could also injure you, think of those as the Marlin’s little cousins, but the Marlin was such a powerful swimmer it could leap out of the waves unto your boat before you were ready for it. In such a case, once it started thrashing and thrusting that spear-bill; the odds of survival, you might say, shifted slightly to its favor.”</p><p></p><p>Keren smiled. She liked this mental image.</p><p></p><p>Ross added, “I even read one account of a Marlin yanking a professional sport-fisherman overboard after his gloved hand got entangled in the wire leader attached to the hook. The fish didn’t even need to spear him dead. It just dragged him down into the depths to drown.”</p><p></p><p>“And ‘fishing’ was something people on Earth often did?” she asked raising a brow.</p><p></p><p>Ross grinned again, this time looking at her for a few moments as he exhaled before answering, “Ernest Hemingway once wrote, ‘You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?'”</p><p></p><p>Keren stared at Ross with a baffled look. She had no idea who Ernest Hemingway might have been, but what he said made a strange kind of sense to her, even if she couldn’t quite fathom why. Keren remembered her own mother once told her there was great truth in old literature. Perhaps she was right.</p><p></p><p>Ross took advantage of the pause to change the subject. “Any idea what kind of ship that is?” he asked in a half-bored conversational tone. His eyes however took far greater interest. Keren noted the way his gaze poured over every detail, same as hers. It was lucky coincidence she happened to be standing here in one of the best spots to observe a docking ship. She had a keen appreciation for all things spacecraft-related and something like this was a rare sight indeed.</p><p></p><p>“Looks to be a derivative of a Chun-ying class destroyer, highly modified. The central bridge superstructure is much larger and bulkier, likely in no small part because of all those added sensor arrays. No doubt there are more signals analysis computer banks and personnel on board. The main drive section is entirely new. Normally there are five fusion-rocket motors, this one has six spaced out around an even larger central rocket of some kind. Looks unusual, I am not familiar with its type, but you can see how distended it is from the central hull. They have tried to disguise it by extending the rearward armor apron further back but it’s still obvious how massively oversized that engine is.”</p><p></p><p>“I see… what else?” he prodded.</p><p></p><p>“Well there are less weapon turrets to speak of. Normally the Chun-ying has eight point-defense laser arrays, this one has only five.”</p><p></p><p>“What is the reason for that?”</p><p></p><p>“Well its common sense, those arrays are primarily defensive against enemy missiles or rail gun rounds. You place them everywhere you expect an angle of attack. Destroyers are faster and more maneuverable than the big ships. They zip around and through enemy lines, harrying the larger ships, drawing their fire away from their own support ships as much as possible. They expect to be fired on a lot from every angle. This ship only has a few on the bow and two on the stern because I expect it won't be engaging at close range or in large sorties.”</p><p></p><p>Ross nodded, “Because of that big cannon right?”</p><p></p><p>“Right, although I don’t know if it’s really a ‘cannon’ exactly, but it’s obviously a very big gun that isn’t mounted on a turret. This ship will have to aim itself at a target and won’t have the luxury of dodging while it does so. It may even be true that the weapon has such a range advantage it defeats the prospect of a counterattack.”</p><p></p><p>“I see you know your spacecraft,” he commented appreciatively.</p><p></p><p>“I know a lot more than you ever gave me credit for, …Ross,” she stated in as much of a neutral tone as she could manage. From the corner of her eye she watched him do something of a double-take as he tried to remember where he might have met her before? She decided to let him wonder as she walked back towards the bar.</p><p></p><p>Murmurs of commotion caught her attention as a dozen or so armed men, and women, entered the club. Through the flashing lights above the dance floor she glimpsed black uniforms and automatic rifles as they made around the dance floor. Though not held at the ready or otherwise brandished in a threatening manner, the sight of AK-4047 pulse assault rifles was still a sobering sight.</p><p></p><p>The soldiers, or naval commandos to be more accurate, split up into four groups, one of which approached the bar as the others went into a search pattern around the dance floor. Keren recognized their uniforms as ICSC Defense Fleet standard issue with the logo of the <em><strong>Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation</strong></em>; a stylized orchid-flower with five petals, bright red-over-white. She also noted one sailors’ cap read <em>CSCS Kowloon.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 7968037, member: 6677509"] By all accounts their wedding was very small and very cheap. Guo had no family and very few of Haylia’s kin could stomach the sight of him. What few mutual friends they had did their best to make it a festive affair, Dizzy being the best of them. Though he rarely spent much time outside his club since those days, Dizzy had a great memory and a talent for sharing stories. Keren learned more about her own parents from him than anyone else, including a few details about their early marriage. On the few occasions he described that period, before she and Sheren were born, Keren couldn’t help but notice he was usually itching to reach for bourbon. She also knew for a fact he wouldn’t dare speak about it if Guo was still here. A warbling static sounded over speakers above the bar and elsewhere in the club followed by the haughty, imperious voice of [I]Executor[/I], the stations AI. [I][B][FONT=tahoma][COLOR=rgb(65, 168, 95)]…Attention, unclassified vessel approaching Ashkelon Station. Priority-Alpha docking status. Access to all decks.[/COLOR][/FONT][/B][/I] …and then the message repeated. Executor only used the term, ‘unclassified’ to describe craft with confidential or classified registries. In the ICSC these could include any vessel carrying corporate executives, exceptionally high-value cargo haulers, survey and reconnaissance craft, expensive research vessels, prototype spacecraft, or any ship of their own military. Whenever Executor pronounced arrivals as if rolling out a red carpet Keren visualized Elsie rolling her eyes back in spacedock. Executor’s aloof, matter-of-fact tone set the status-quo as clearly as its own programming. Executor was more than a mere functionary or facilitator; it was the gatekeeper to the whole station. It was even possible the announcement occurred before the station administrator was even aware of the arrival. Straightening up in her posture Keren looked towards the large outer viewports hoping to catch a glimpse of this ‘unclassified’ vessel. It didn’t take long. It was at least twice the size of an M-Class freighter, bristling with long-range antennae and sensor arrays. The sight of it furrowed her brow and piqued her curiosity. Her sense of melancholy forgotten Keren slipped off the stool and walked around the bar to get a closer look. A few others had the same idea. Past the thick synthetic quartz glass the warship drifted closer. There was no doubt it could be anything else, though the exact type and design was unfamiliar to her. The ICSC’s ‘Navy’ was little more than a ragged, disparate fleet of older mercenary destroyers, each employed by individual corporations within the CSC. Compared to those old wrecks, this was something else entirely. Ashkelon Station may have been at the edge of known space but it was also near to Liberty Echo, main naval base of the United Americas Outer Rim Defense Fleet. Colonial Marine warships passed near the station fairly regularly, and Keren was more aware than most civilians about their armaments and capabilities. She was able to identify the difference between a laser or a rail gun turret, but there were only a few of those visible on the sleek hull. One very large, prominent cannon barrel of some sort extended out from the nose by at least twenty five meters. “Looks like a Marlin!” A voice to her right commented with a slight drawl and half a chuckle. Keren recognized the voice of [I]Ross Henry Karnes[/I] before she even glanced over to confirm it. She was a tad bit surprised at how easily he moved up in her blind spot. Keren wasn’t usually caught off guard. The ICC inspector was dressed casually (of a fashion) in cowboy boots, denim jeans and a grey/green patterned long sleeve shirt. Around his waist was a genuine cow-hide belt with a broad steel buckle. Some of the other inspectors took to calling him ‘Red’ due to his ginger-colored hair. “What’s a Marlin?” She asked. “It’s a fish! Or should I say, was a fish before pollution and over-fishing killed them off,” he explained producing a pack of cigarettes tapping on the bottom in the highly ritualized and measured way a practiced smoker did. “They had great long spears jutting out from their skulls which meant you had better be careful pulling one unto your boat.” Meanwhile the sleek warship drew close enough for an extended docking umbilical, carefully firing its thrusters to match the stations precise orbit above GL382. Upon its smooth charcoal-grey hull there was little in the way of identifying markings or insignia except for two things. Upon the tallest sail like structure amidships was a stylized orchid-flower, bright red-over-white with five petals. Most tellingly, near the bow, the words [I][B]USCS Kowloon[/B][/I] were stenciled boldly in white. Keren found herself intrigued by this fish Ross spoke of as much as this new ship. She knew he was referring to the great oceans of Earth of course, not that she’d ever had the pleasure of visiting that blue planet. Out here there was almost nothing in the way of nature to learn about, much less see with her own eyes. “How large were they?” she asked. Ross expertly flicked two cigarettes up out of his pack and gestured towards her politely. She noted the brand was one of the few still made from genuine earth-grown tobacco. Despite the fact she never particularly liked him she found herself reaching for one. Ross was arrogant and uptight most of the time. He cursed at her and the other techs in the loud, self-important way some men from Texas were known to do. “They were plenty big!” he says with a slight grin. “The Atlantic Blue Marlin could reach over five meters in length and weigh over eight hundred kilograms. More impressive still, they were some of the fastest swimmers in the sea.” Keren leaned close towards him as he lifted an old-fashioned zippo lighter towards her politely. The scent of booze was on his breath but she also noted he wasn’t stealing a glance down her low-cut blouse. In fact he wasn’t much looking at her at all, and not because he was embarrassed. She realized at that moment that he hadn’t yet recognized her. How funny. “So they could easily kill a man?” she asked taking a puff of the flavorful smoke. [I]Damn these are good cigarettes.[/I] “Definitely!” Ross said lighting one for himself. “Swordfish could also injure you, think of those as the Marlin’s little cousins, but the Marlin was such a powerful swimmer it could leap out of the waves unto your boat before you were ready for it. In such a case, once it started thrashing and thrusting that spear-bill; the odds of survival, you might say, shifted slightly to its favor.” Keren smiled. She liked this mental image. Ross added, “I even read one account of a Marlin yanking a professional sport-fisherman overboard after his gloved hand got entangled in the wire leader attached to the hook. The fish didn’t even need to spear him dead. It just dragged him down into the depths to drown.” “And ‘fishing’ was something people on Earth often did?” she asked raising a brow. Ross grinned again, this time looking at her for a few moments as he exhaled before answering, “Ernest Hemingway once wrote, ‘You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?'” Keren stared at Ross with a baffled look. She had no idea who Ernest Hemingway might have been, but what he said made a strange kind of sense to her, even if she couldn’t quite fathom why. Keren remembered her own mother once told her there was great truth in old literature. Perhaps she was right. Ross took advantage of the pause to change the subject. “Any idea what kind of ship that is?” he asked in a half-bored conversational tone. His eyes however took far greater interest. Keren noted the way his gaze poured over every detail, same as hers. It was lucky coincidence she happened to be standing here in one of the best spots to observe a docking ship. She had a keen appreciation for all things spacecraft-related and something like this was a rare sight indeed. “Looks to be a derivative of a Chun-ying class destroyer, highly modified. The central bridge superstructure is much larger and bulkier, likely in no small part because of all those added sensor arrays. No doubt there are more signals analysis computer banks and personnel on board. The main drive section is entirely new. Normally there are five fusion-rocket motors, this one has six spaced out around an even larger central rocket of some kind. Looks unusual, I am not familiar with its type, but you can see how distended it is from the central hull. They have tried to disguise it by extending the rearward armor apron further back but it’s still obvious how massively oversized that engine is.” “I see… what else?” he prodded. “Well there are less weapon turrets to speak of. Normally the Chun-ying has eight point-defense laser arrays, this one has only five.” “What is the reason for that?” “Well its common sense, those arrays are primarily defensive against enemy missiles or rail gun rounds. You place them everywhere you expect an angle of attack. Destroyers are faster and more maneuverable than the big ships. They zip around and through enemy lines, harrying the larger ships, drawing their fire away from their own support ships as much as possible. They expect to be fired on a lot from every angle. This ship only has a few on the bow and two on the stern because I expect it won't be engaging at close range or in large sorties.” Ross nodded, “Because of that big cannon right?” “Right, although I don’t know if it’s really a ‘cannon’ exactly, but it’s obviously a very big gun that isn’t mounted on a turret. This ship will have to aim itself at a target and won’t have the luxury of dodging while it does so. It may even be true that the weapon has such a range advantage it defeats the prospect of a counterattack.” “I see you know your spacecraft,” he commented appreciatively. “I know a lot more than you ever gave me credit for, …Ross,” she stated in as much of a neutral tone as she could manage. From the corner of her eye she watched him do something of a double-take as he tried to remember where he might have met her before? She decided to let him wonder as she walked back towards the bar. Murmurs of commotion caught her attention as a dozen or so armed men, and women, entered the club. Through the flashing lights above the dance floor she glimpsed black uniforms and automatic rifles as they made around the dance floor. Though not held at the ready or otherwise brandished in a threatening manner, the sight of AK-4047 pulse assault rifles was still a sobering sight. The soldiers, or naval commandos to be more accurate, split up into four groups, one of which approached the bar as the others went into a search pattern around the dance floor. Keren recognized their uniforms as ICSC Defense Fleet standard issue with the logo of the [I][B]Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation[/B][/I]; a stylized orchid-flower with five petals, bright red-over-white. She also noted one sailors’ cap read [I]CSCS Kowloon.[/I] [/QUOTE]
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