Discovery Gaming Community - Acciaio Veneziano

Acciaio Veneziano.

Maria de Santangelo, pilot of the Serenissima, waited patiently at the side of the Saint Mark while the jump drive charged. Another fruitful day in Liberty to say the least. Marco di Lupia was the man calling the shots today, standing behind her, not allowing the Reaver to hunt alone in Liberty as she used to do throughout Sirius. As Marco was talking to Vesco, the one commanding the Saint Mark, she took notice of the Sarissa.

The armor was refracting light in a way unusual to her. Maria has seen her share of battleships and that armor plating did reflect the light generated by the jump drive emissions in an almost bluish color, a very uncommon thing. Her focus was cut short by Vesco's voice through the comm signaling the seventy percent jump charge milestone. She quickly sat back into her her chair and secured herself properly.

Yet her comm croaked again. Marco di Lupia now, his voice, coarse and dry. A man with humor but not much at the moment since they were recalled by Niccolò, the leader and commander of the Serenissima.

"You admiring the armor, Maria?"

"Yes, I am. It is different."

"Acciaio Veneziano."

Was the short reply. Her mind raced as to what did he meant. The Saint Mark was one of the very few capitals being built in the Venice shipyards. Away from the eyes of Malta, away from the lust of the families and the political powers that do torn apart the Outcast society.

"What do you mean, señor di Lupia?"

Silence installed and only Vesco's voice signalling another milestone cut through it. Seconds filled with the image of the jump drive emissions increasing passed, with Maria wondering if she had asked too much. Which she did not agreed, since he was the one that initiated the conversation. Finally, that coarse voice was heard again.

"I mean, that armor.. Is Venetian. Made by a Venetian master. Built for a Venetian masterpiece."

Maria opened her mouth to reply, but all she felt was the pull of the the jump and her instruments going crazy as the Transgressor was flung systems away from Liberty with the day's blood on her hands and a lot of questions in her mind.

Venice Shipyards, 821 A.S..

A young man ran towards his superior, that was watching Soledad at the distance in the only promenade deck within the shipyard. Not many came here, and when Lead Engineer Andrea Antonio Stradivari was present, everyone was sure to remove themselves from his sight.

Already in his 12th decade, Andrea looked like a man entering his sixties, and his eyes betrayed his age even further as they bore down the assistant that arrived to interrupt his reverie. The assistant quickly looked at the floor and raised a data-pad to his master. Removing it from the assistants hand, he ordered him to leave the deck and turned around to the scenery once again, breathing in before going resuming his work.

His sight finally fell onto the data-pad where a communication from a junker supplier was ready to be read. As his eyebrows moved at the flow of the words, they finally rose in awe and triumph. It was finally in his grasp, the key component he was looking for. It was finally time to start his masterpiece.

"I need autorizzazione for this, Michael."

"Signori Stradivari, we cannot. All capital ships are to be built in Valetta. The families have decided."

"To hell with the families! We have the chance to make something wonderful, and now la politica stands in our way??"

Michael Bianchi sighed. He was half the age of Stradivari and already the manager of the Venice Shipyards, but sometimes he felt that he was the employee here. Shaking his head, he once again denied, only noticing he was denying the air in front of him. Stradivari was already leaving his office and finishing the conversation.

"Get me a production order for the Sarissa, Michael. I am counting on you."

Venice Shipyards, January, 822 A.S..

For the better part of a year, the main dock was occupied, under Stradivari's orders. Only a selected few ever ventured in there and while most of them were the most old and trustworthy in their work to Stradivari, there were also craftsmen. Artists from all the corners from Sirius and even one Libertonian engineer, a man Stradivari took a liking and that accompanied Stradivari everywhere.

Stradivari was not only aiming for a technological wonder. No, he wanted warfare turned into art. How the deadly could be beautiful. He always felt that the ships that they created could be so much more. How they could create awe inspiring moments. How the space was the canvas already painted by the gods and causality and that he could attain such as well. With a ship.

A vessel both beautiful and terrifying.

As he walked through the main dock viewport, a team of men were working on the detailing of the starboard hull. His protege was there with them, testing the new hull ablative cover. One that would be able to shine on its own, an effect that would flow in the hull, beautiful, but it would also be very deadly. Anything touching that hull would suffer the wrath of an almost direct feed from the power core for energy would have to run unrestrained and wild in order to paint the myriad of colors and hues, all under the command of the captain.

Under that, an alloy, heavy and hearty, capable to withstand a punishment uncommon to many. In order to support all that mass, structural reinforcements were made which added even more to the weight of the ship. Engines and power were his main concerns now, as the masterpiece was definite in its visual shape.

But the visual awe was nothing if it could not travel. If it could not engage its enemies. If it could not move through Sirius inspiring its own and others. Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. It is in the imagination of all. And all had to see it. All would see it. And for that, new engines would have to be made as well a new power source to feed it all.

New technologies were emerging and Stradivari, focused in his masterpiece as he was, could not look at every solution thrown upon his desk. No. He had a new set of eyes, a new head that imagined like him. A new heart that believed like him. That war is an art form and that battlefields are paintings. That libertonian helped him immensely, with new ideas and solutions. The core was now in his hands while Stradivari worried himself with the power that would move his artwork.

Venice Shipyards, March, 822 A.S..

"It is done."

Andrea Stradivari looked at the Sarissa berthed in front of the promenade deck. A man stood at his side, taller, younger and silent, taking in the vista.

"My masterpiece, è fatta."

He smiled, turning at the young man, that only nodded. Andrea extended his hand which the young man shook with Andrea clasping the shaking hands with his own, exhilarated by the moment.

"Are you returning to Liberty now, amico mio?"

"Yeah. By now, I'm certain the old ladies are all effed up without proper care. Helping you build something as rare as he -" He nodded to the now christened Saint Mark. "is very very rewarding.. But I will always have a thing for the old birds."

Stradivari laughed and shook his head, turning again to the promenade window, with his hands behind his back.

"Sometimes you have to break, destroy, to kill a work of art to make it anew. Si, it can be a path. A dangerous one. Because it is a torture for the mind. Torture in making of the old, new. Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate il inferno. Be careful not to lose yourself in it."

Silence fell in the promenade and after a minute of admiring the Mark one last time, the young man bowed his head slightly in farewell.

"Master Stradivari."

He left the big room quietly, while Stradivari was deep in his world admiring his work and imagination come true. A small shuttle caught his eye. The man that would command the Saint Mark had arrived. He breathed in and prepared himself for the meeting. Letting the Saint Mark go was a hard thing to do, especially so soon after completion. But this masterpiece could only truly be one in one place and one place alone.

In battle.