Happy birthday to me! And as is the custom, you all get a gift. This year, for All Hallows’ Read, you get a twilight-zone style story about how nobody deserves what they get in life.
Visually impaired readers can read it here.
Get if now at Smashwords!
Gunship Diplomacy
And this is the only piece of fiction I’ve written since then that I’ve saved as worth reading. That may be hubris, but give it a go.
I wrote my first fanfic in forever back when The Mandate was having its kickstarter. I banged out a little script-format tiny fanfic drabble while I was supposed to be getting my place ready for RPG night, and posted it. So far as I know it - or its original script version, anyway - has the distinction of being the first The Mandate fanfiction to exist - or at least the first one ever posted on the net. It was on the old Mandate forums before there even was a fiction section! It saw a couple of revisions soon after, often late at night, and this is the final form of it. I’m happy with it, and don’t want to break it by trying to fix it.
—
The negotiations had been going on for some time, even after they were put through to the governor rather than one of his flunkies, and it was getting aggravating. For God’s sake, this wasn’t an unreasonable request, and while this planet was not exactly a core world, nor was it some bushscrub hardscrabble one, lucky to own a worldwide comm net for emergency messages. It was easily capable of the repairs and resupply necessary. And as far as his analysts - or at least, what analysts could be crammed aboard a hastily retrofitted outdated frigate - could tell, it was not an openly rebellious one either; just - unenthusiastic about the reestablishment of central authority.
The captain shook their head minutely and refocused on the negotiations, they had a duty - all loyal citizens of the Mandate - had a duty to perform. Perhaps it was time to remind the governor thus. In curt, definite terms, the captain restated the facts, just in case the governor had forgotten them. He in turn almost inflated with outrage, before expelling it all over the comm channel. “Pfha! The Mandate! What has the Mandate ever been to us, but tax collectors and laws and decrees made with no appreciation for local circumstances or wishes? No, Captain, let the Mandate rot. Let it be consumed in atomic fire, and something better rise up to replace it!” After saying that, the man seemed to exude an odd mixture of satisfaction and trepidation, as if this was something that had been bubbling beneath the surface for some time, but he at least realised how dangerous to say it out loud could be, in the current climate.
The captain, charged by the Empress Herself to reunite the Mandate and bestowed the command sceptre of the Imperial line for that purpose, felt their face harden. “Well, Governor. I cannot say what the Mandate has been to you and your people; I was not here, I would not presume to do so. I can however tell you what it was to me. It was both shield and sword against the night and all that lurked in it. It was the knowledge that anything could be endured, if you put your mind to it. It was all that is great in Humanity. It was then my disgrace and imprisonment.” Best not to think on that.
“But I can tell you, Governor in the Empress’ Name, what the Mandate will be to you and yours if you do not fulfil my legal requests for repair and resupply. In that case Governor, you will be guilty of treason, and the Mandate will be several megatons of Directed Energy Weapon fire bringing down the shield above your palace. Then, it will be a three hundred and twenty millimetre ferrous slug accelerated to a velocity easily capable of landscaping duties for the new Governor, impacting the palace itself. Immediately following, it will be drop-pods and combat shuttles filled with this warship of the Grand Fleet’s entire Imperial Marine complement landing both at what is left of that complex and carefully selected sites around this planet.” The governor looked like he was starting to truly comprehend the implications of his outburst.
The captain unconsciously adjusted their uniform and leaned a little towards the pickup. “My marines cannot hold the planet. However, with orbital fire support - which your defences cannot contest, as their automated lockouts recognise the authority granted me by this sceptre, even if you do not - they can kill you, your senior staff, and on and on down the chain until either a legally authorised individual grants my request, or there is no-one left who can wield that authority, in which case my men and I leave to find another shipyard, and your planet’s populace either slide into barbarism or are easy prey for any pirates or renegades that come after me. It will be of no consequence to you of course, as my commtechs have already traced this transmission to your bunker, and that will be receiving the second salvo. The physical symbol of your authority needs must receive the first strike, as I am sure you can understand.”
Having said this, the Captain of the List of the starship Vindicator, once Peer of the Realm, then court-martialed prisoner, now charged with reuniting the Mandate by any means necessary - leaned back in their command chair, something that could be charitably called a smile beginning to appear on their face. “Now, I believe you were saying something about atomic fire?”
—
In the original version this was just a script, with “Captain” and “Governor”, so in this I tried to get personality across without describing physical attributes. This is supposed to be something that you could see any of your captains doing, assuming the personality you ascribe to them fits, whether they be male or female, from a high-tech or low-tech homeworld, anything like that. Let me know if it worked, okay?
(PS: The ship’s name I stole from the default name for the Precursor ship from Star Control 2. I just thought it fit so well.)
This Halloween… read a free story from your favourite author.
Or. Y'know. Just some loser on Tumblr who keeps pretending they can write.
For those of you already following - please reblog, I need readers.
I write stories for you!
Send them in a submission, please. That one lets you do links.
And every day, a new story based on a prompt will come forth from my possibly deranged mind and bless your dash with fiction. [I’m assuming you follow me]
There’s no such thing as a bad prompt. There may be such a thing as a bad story. You’ll find out when I get to your prompt.
I work on a queue, so first in is first served.
What are you waiting for? Click that link and send me something juicy.
[C'mon. My muse is running low on fuel]
Asks are rebloggable now!
Which means, dear readers, that you can reblog ALL my stories, now.
Which means that you can spread the love.
Please show your followers all the cool ones :)
100 people have downloaded the preview of RTFM
Wooo!
…now if only I could get you guys to buy the sucker…
Fanfic Time: Where Were You Last…?
One-shot ficcery inspired by the fact that Blink started its life as a fanfic.
Doctor: Ten. Not that it matters a lot, because you can easily put Eleven in there and not change much. (cough cough, scriptwriters…)
Wall of text under the cut:
YES!
As of this very moment, I have exactly one hundred people who have downloaded Scavenger for their reading pleasure.
There’s only one thing to say:
Thank you everyone!
Question: would lowering my price of my other works to 99 cents help increase sales?
I’m in trouble now.
You marvellous, marvellous peeps have downloaded almost one HUNDRED copies of my short story, Scavenger.
The price must be right, I guess.
And lots of you have downloaded samples of my other books, too. That’s great. It is. No sarcasm here.
It’s just… I wish y'all’d BUY something. I need an income, blobdammit! I have expensive tastes and I have yet to get my first $10 out of Smashwords.
To give you an idea: Those of you who remember my Realm may also remember my track record with computers. I break them. Frequently. The average Mac lunchbox Mini gives me two years of faithful service before it up and decides to kark it. Mac Minis are not cheap, but I’d rather a Mini than the virus-prone PC clones.
My current Mini is almost past its inaugural year.
I do have an iPad and a spare laptop [hand-me-down from my Best Beloved] just in case the unthinkable happens and this Mini decides to roll over prematurely. I also have (ta-dah) a Dropbox account, on which I can store 2G of my WiPs before I have to start paying for it.
I have no idea when (or if) any of these things will fall victim to my Fickle Finger syndrome [It’s like a green thumb. In reverse. For computers] and die on me.
I also owe in excess of $200 just to have a working phone.
…and I have no income at all…
sad face
Anyway. You didn’t come here for my pathetic whinging. You came for mad props.
As you all know, I have the artistic merit of a diseased whelk, so no “thank you” art here.
Just simple words.
Thanks for downloading me. Thanks for reading me. You are all awesome, and don’t let me forget it :)