Southampton Shipyards, production report:
Bretonian Royal Liner, "Unseelie"
Requested by Aetherworld Exports, a Bowex subsidiary.
Custom liner equipped with the following standard options:
9 Transport Turrets, Level 4.
1 Reinforced Cruise Disruptor.
1 Heavy Countermeasure Flare Launcher.
1 Advanced Transport Shield, Graviton based.
1 Advanced Thruster.
1 Discovery Scanner Array.
1 Armour Upgrade, Extreme.
Customization as follows:
Interior quarters have been greatly reduced,
Crew of 14 persons and a complement of 7 expanded luxury suites.
Remainder of interior space has been reallocated to bulk transport modules and docking bay. Bay equipped with five omni cradles and dedicated cradles for one Snubnose Bomber, three red catamaran bombers, three Blood Dragon Fighters, Two Eagles, One Templar, and one converted Clydesdale Shuttle.
15,450,000 Sirius Credits.
Personnel and passenger loft is lined with a 5 cm niobium barrier, and bulkheads on the interior of the loft include a 2cm lining. All pressurized sections outside of the loft are lined with at least 3 cm.
1,670,000 Sirius Credits
Luxury Suites include foyer, setting room, master bedroom, secondary bedroom and guest bedroom, den, office, two half baths and one full, dining cabin, breakfast nook, office and kitchen.
Communal facilities include dining hall, one swimming pool 50 meters in length, 25 wide, and beginning at 2 meters deep, and sloping to 5 meters at the opposite end, one physical training gym, and a video arcade.
3,400,000 Sirius Credits.
Southampton shipyards is among the largest shipbuilding installations in Sirius. Its productive capacity supports the whole Bretonian fleet with adequate reinforcements even in a time of grinding war with Kusari. It has handled many new builds as well as reconstructions and allowed the Bretonian navy to carry on its proud tradition as loyal servants of the monarchy and upholder of core values such as chivalry and stalwartness in the face of the enemy, whoever it might be.
One of the reconstructions was that of the Unseelie, a heavily armoured Bretonian liner belonging to the infamous Juno Kietan. Her name and that of her family of guards had dropped off the map for some time, as they had begun to settle peacefully in Bretonia. Even with war on all fronts, Juno had confined her daughter and her bodyguard mostly to internal security issues, rather than hitting out at the perpetrators of such aggression.
Mariko had never liked this. She’d enjoyed being at the throat of the enemy ever since she could remember, even though she was only half way through her sixteenth year of life. The last six months had been insanely boring and lonely for her, flying through Bretonia keeping the peace in a Rheinland bomber, and having to take the generous helping of slander against her Kusari origins without utterly annihilating the offenders. The mix of represented nations was funny to some, but certainly not to Mariko.
Usually she had the autopilot engaged and played with her stuffed toys behind the flight seat. Mariko had even installed one of her favourite ones, a fluffy white mouse, in a space on her console, which she poked relentlessly when she was bored.
Today she was heading to the rebuilt Unseelie. Well, rebuilt wasn’t the word, as it was an all-knew construction. Though the final touches were being put on the Unseelie, the ship itself was fully functional. Mariko brought her Rheinland bomber around and engaged the automatic docking sequence, which guided her craft into a specially designed cradle.
Later, Mariko was wandering through the redesigned Unseelie, in amazement at the decoration and intricacy. Patterns dating back to the history of Bretonia, then known as the United Kingdom on sol, were everywhere. This touch of the ancients contrasted sharply with the high tech mechanisms and interfaces, which could do all manner of things, from change the colour of the lights to making the floor glow…
So absorbed in the patterns and decorations of the first corridor from the landing bay, Mariko didn’t notice Juno, in a wheelchair, turn the corner into view. For a while, Juno had a soft smile as she looked upon her daughter, who was gazing at the wall.
The Unseelie was quiet, these days. A ship built to house hundreds, designed around the comfort of a very few..And, often, inhabited by only one. Perhaps two. Juno Kietan, Mariko Kietan, Christopher Wren, all lived there. Or, rather, it was registered as their residence. They were each busy, Wren with Bretonian Intelligence, Juno with whatever deal she was organizing on the fringe of legal economies, and Mariko passing through schools and hospitals. Stuart had been promoted to Admiral, and hadn't been around at all for months. Marzoruki Kimozashi was missing, Mazakishi Karmisho had killed himself. Masakatsu Kikushi had gone down over Leeds to a Katana's nova. The halls were empty, and the ship drifted around Planet New London, often derelict.
Mariko Wheeled herself around the bridge, hesitant, and finally brought her hands onto the controls.
Her arms felt heavy, as if her hands had large lead weights tied to them. It was hard to move when she felt like she was restrained.
--
For some time now, Mariko had been showing some signs of muscle wastage, but it had never been so bad before. Everyone knew it would get worse. The doctors, the people, the guards, Juno. Everyone had accepted that it was going to happen, and the atmosphere around Mariko had been one of sluggishness and sadness.
The latest report from her doctors detailed that Mariko had a rare form of muscle wastage, known as Emery-Dreifuss muscular dystrophy. It would eventually kill her, as her muscles weakened. Even the heart would weaken, to such an extent that it wouldn't be able to beat.
--
-: Juno-sama has always wanted Mariko-sama to fly a transport. Juno-sama says that its because Mariko-sama is a big girl now and needs to earn some money, but Mariko-sama doesn't believe it. Juno-sama... mama-san, always looks sad recently.
What mama-san really wants is for Mariko-sama to see the stars a different way. Mama-san says that Mariko-sama always charges into battle without looking and admiring the beauty of space, so Mariko-sama must try to see the beauty.
Mariko-sama always thought that the blood smears of fallen pilots on the Rheinland bomber looked especially beautiful, but Mariko-sama doesn't think that mama-san liked it. Mariko-sama thinks that beauty is in the eye of the beholder... as Bretonians would say sometimes.
So now, Mariko-sama must concentrate on flying this big, heavy, target, that mama-san calls a transport.
Mariko-sama hopes the shields hold, as asteroids look much more like obstacles than they did before in Mariko-sama's small escort ships...
First, a patter like rain, blasts falling on the shields. And then, when the shields fell, the hull shook, vibrated like a great drum. Niobium casings redirected the blasts, and vibrated with the impacts, humming a great song through the dark hallways of the ship, rooms became echo chambers, each changing the pitch and timbre in their own way. In the bridge, the roar was a rumble, shaking everything, and barely heard. Deeper in the heart of the ship, tiles cracked under the shriek.
Just beneath the bridge, the armoury was in chaos. Powered-Armor suits had worked themselves out of their bays, and fallen onto weapon racks. Dust choked the air, and an energy core slowly spooled up, casting strange shadows across the chambers.
The resonance of the hull was annoying.
The stuff falling off their fixings were annoying.
The dust was annoying.
The stupid Bretonians were annoying. How long had it been, and they still couldn't keep their fingers off the trigger?
At first, it had been fun. Mariko had always been kept on her toes by the eagerness of the Bretonians to resort to armed conflict. After all, those encounters only ended one way. This was different however. Even if the ship was a Bretonian Royal Liner, it couldn't sustain the combined fire of two stations, the docking ring and the swarms of Bretonian patrols in the area.
Mariko cursed in Japanese under her breath, and activated the cruise engines. At least that interface were familliar to her; the layout of the neural network was completely different from the usual fighter and bomber styles. Irrelevant controls such as "heating" and "lighting" were prioritised over "weapon systems" and "engines". After all, the liner was made for comfort, not combat.
The Bretonians chose not to persue, and it wasn't too long before the liner was out of range. The armour plate had been scorched and scarred, but there was little damage to the hull structure of the ship. Before long, the shields recharged too.
As the Unselie approached the jump gate to Cambridge, the ships already in the area moved away. Corporate and civilian personnel never wanted to be part of a fight if they could help it.
Instead of recieving a renewed barrage of fire from the Jump Gate, it simply played a hastily written apology to the owner of the vessel, Juno Kietan. Without hearing it out, Mariko saved the message. Those Bretonians weren't going to get away with attacking Juno-sama's property with a poor excuse about identification problems with Kishiro vessels...
Besides, Mariko had bigger problems to face. Her fear of dieing was only compounded by the fact that she was happy with her life here. She didn't want to leave it, having had many... unpleasant experiences... in the past. Day-dreaming about this caused her to absentmindedly pilot the vessel from station to station, shipping goods. So caught up by her own thoughts, she completely missed the beauty and tranquillity of space; the whole reason that Mariko was flying the transport in the first place.
Mai Katami dropped her bag on the bunk. The rooms were huge. There was a separate bathroom in each suite..and a separate bedroom from the drawing room...There was a pool! The bath...an actual bath, even...deep enough to sit up in, luxurate..there were oils and scents...She'd gone from a cramped shower stall and a pallet on the floor to a full queen bed, with a jacuzzi...And they weren't even in the same room! She had her own cooking area, and cabinets made out of real wood..real wood. It was the best room ever, aboard the best ship ever. The floors were elaborate carpets or tiles...everything was just too good. Far too good.
And, best of all? She wasn't washing the floor. She wasn't, in fact, doing anything she didn't want to do. Ever again. Juno had promised.
There was of course a catch to that. One never has to do something they don't want to do. Generally, one never does. We give people power over us, that they would only gain by violence, otherwise. Unless someone has you tied up, and is carrying you, you can choose not to walk. Even then, you can choose not to cooperate.
One always has a choice. So often, too often, no one takes their choices. People let other people choose. Never, never, ever let anyone have that right. Always choose. Be aware of all your options, and choose whichever one you like.
Life is an economy of choice. Every choice has repercussions, ripples, and waves. Understand how your choices will affect you, short and long term, and be willing to accept the violence. Because, in the end, choices always come down to violence. The threat of violence, the threat of pain, cows you. Castrates you. Be violent. Be not afraid of violence. Be not afraid to keep your choices, and choose as you will.