Ridiculous

 
A nebulous term at best. It can mean what you want it to mean.
good, bad, indifferent.
silly, misunderstood, inane.
chaotic, entropic.
Pretty much all about me. LOL maybe I should change my name.
I work, I sleep, I play. Seemingly NOT ridiculous, and yet it is. My choices are my own, and yet sometimes it seems that choices are made for me.
That is ridiculous. Meaning: good AND bad, silly AND yes, random. 
What is ridiculous about it? The universe works in mysterious ways. Chaotic, silly. Perhaps my life is part of a grand plan. Perhaps it is all just a roll of giant troll dice... That is a question of life that most people, I think, have to deal with.
Nothing is set in stone, you can make your own fate or at least nudge it in a different direction. I have to believe that, else all is for naught. If my path is predetermined and it can't be changed, that sucks. I like ridiculous. And random.


speaking of paths, and random acts of random ridiculousness...
next Interregnum:


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                The tall man with the fair skin and the black hair is standing on the balcony, looking out over the vast expanse of concrete. He is looking for something, scanning the horizon. He brings the distance viewer to his eye and continues to search.

                “Ah, there you are, beautiful lady.”

                There is a breeze developing, the trees that line the edges of the Spaceport bending their trunks as though in welcome. The breeze builds into a storm of wind. The man is focusing the viewer on a portion of the sky where a small speck is just barely visible to the naked eye. As the wind increases, so does the sound, low at first, but growing louder with each passing moment.

escapism

Escape.
A simple, short word that can mean many different things in different context.
My favorite context is "get away". I can easily escape from real life by logging into World of Warcraft or Guild Wars. I can escape from my workday by leaving the room. Sometimes I can escape in general by taking a vacation trip.
So- Why does this come up randomly, now? Partially because we just made plans to take a trip with the family that I am looking forward to. Partially because there are a TON of things I would like to escape from on a daily basis...
And partially because the main reason I began writing was to escape from myself. I am not a prolific writer, making words about varying subjects in a variety of styles. My characters and story came from a need to make sense of, and an outlet for, my daydreams and wishes. To have a vehicle for expressing feelings, thoughts, ideas is therapeutic in a way I had not considered previously. Just the act of typing out the words, seeing the story develop, the fact that I can make them whatever I want seems to scratch some of the itch of my insecurity.

Though it would be more than fabulous if someone were to see this blog and want to help edit, etc., that is not why I am putting it out there. One of my greatest faults is my shyness. I don't like to do things if they will put me in any sort of spotlight. Some people may not believe this, because I tend to overcompensate, but there it is. Escape from myself? Not really, just sort of.
Whether or not anyone ever reads this story, it still has performed its function, and I am happy with it.

Onward...

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Chapter 6

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                Everyone on the Draco had heard my call for help. My voice can be very loud when I need it to be, apparently. But, unfortunately for us, by the time the Engineers had realized what they were feeling and hearing it was too late. The Bay doors had opened just as the ultra-white light of the Transport was vanishing. My mental cries faded with the light. The only thing left to show that we had been there was a small metal cylinder, slowly rolling to a stop against the corridor wall.

                Lieutenant Dalton slapped her communicator. “Security! Captain Bianchi has been abducted!”

                At the exact same moment, the Red Alert Siren began screeching throughout the Ship. The MPs, our Military Police, led by Colonel Zuajko, arrived on Level Twenty within a minute. They fanned out throughout the Level, concentrating on the nearby Engineering Department. A few of them left to go up to Level Twelve, where my Lab is.

                “Colonel. What do you see?”

                “Commander. Nothing yet, Sir. There is a spray cylinder here, we have contacted Doctor Palmer to retrieve it for testing.”

                “All right, keep at it. Let me know the instant your men find anything else.”

                Commander Walker paced the Bridge, waiting for some sort of contact. He knew that the Agrint ship had to be nearby. However, the Federation had no technology that would allow Transport to or from a Ship while in Hyperspace. We could not even trust our sensors. The Draco was almost blind while outside the normal realm of Space, relying upon the established routes, minimal directional sensors, and the expertise of the Navigators in planning the entry to get where she was going.

                Luckily, my friend Mark Quinn was at the helm when the Alert sounded. He is among the best in his chosen specialty, which happens to be Navigation. There is not much about the workings of Hyperspace, nor of the controls of the Draco, that he does not know and understand intimately.

                “Lieutenant Commander Quinn. How long before we will be able to exit Hyperspace?”

                “Not long, Sir. We have been doing our best to follow the directional trail left by the Agrint ship. It’s almost disappeared now, Sir.”

                “Hopefully, that means they have stopped or at least slowed down. Get us out ASAP, Mr. Quinn.”

                “Aye, Sir.”

               

many thanks

My real-life family is a constant and consistent inspiration and support system. I don't thank them enough for their contributions to my sanity as well as my work. Thank you, family!
However, today I would also like to put out a big "Thank You" to my otherfamily. These are people I spend a great deal of time with, although we may never meet in person. My virtual boyfriends, my invisible girlfriends - my WoW family. It still amazes me, even after over 2.5 years of "playing", that one can become so very attached to a group of people that one has never seen. It's crazy.
Many thanks to Wrynns Raiders, my guildies who take care of each other, confide in one another, make that pretend world a pleasant one. Perhaps someday we can arrange a meetup - Vegas would be fun...
:) And most special thanks to you, my men of Unified, you crazy kids who give me something to look forward to each week. You all make me laugh on a regular basis in a time where I really need that. It is a wondrous thing to be part of a team who work together toward a common goal - who are a bunch of silly little boys when it suits them and a serious well-oiled machine when it comes time to get the job done. I have learned from each of you, about different music styles, about politics, religion, literature... it's about the game but it's about life, too. You ROCK and I am so happy to know all of you.
This is the week we WILL get Deathwing! I can feel it!


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... on the story - there will be more of the Interregnums, with cryptic references and snippets of information about past and present events. Some perhaps more "interesting" than others, but all providing a piece of the story.

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                A hush falls over the auditorium as the young woman steps forward. She is small in stature but she commands the attention of every person in the room. Her wavy dark-brown hair is tied back from her beautiful face with a green ribbon that matches her gown perfectly. Her hands tremble slightly as she makes her way across the stage.

                She is the last to step up to the podium, the rest of the graduates have already accepted their Diplomas. As she approaches the University President to shake his hand, he motions to her to stop.

                “Ladies and Gentlemen. we have an unusual honor to bestow this evening. Normally, as you know, a Doctorate is only awarded at the Ceremony of the Councils. However, in this case, an exception has been made.”

                The crowd begins to whisper. They know that this is an unprecedented occasion. The family of the dark-eyed, dark-haired new graduate sit very still in the front row of the auditorium, holding each others’ hands. A smiling young woman, with bright red hair and porcelain white skin, sits with the family, as proud as anyone, if not more.

                The University President brings forward a large, framed piece of parchment. He holds it up so everyone in the audience is able to see. The young woman’s eyes fill, and she lowers her head. But she quickly raises it again, startled as she feels something. She glances around, not sure where the strange feeling is coming from. It abates, and she turns to the President.

                He has not noticed her unease, and continues. “May I present... Doctor Elizabeth Thorne.”

                The auditorium erupts into thunderous applause. The entire audience, all standing, cheering. The young woman shuts her eyes, briefly, clamping down on her receptors so she will not be overwhelmed by the emotional tide sweeping over her.

                The new Doctor accepts her Diploma, smiling as she curtseys to the President. She moves to the podium at his nod.

                Looking out over the assembly, she has a moment of uncertainty, she is feeling that strange something again.

                “I am not experienced at speech-making.” She smiles. “However, I wanted to thank my wonderful, supportive family and friends for standing by me all through my career. Without their support and that of the University, I would not be standing here now. Thank you to all who helped me, taught me, put up with me,”  She smiles again at the audience, “I will do my very best not to let you down.”

                A ripple of laughter, a collective sigh runs through the audience. Then, a tall man in the back row stands up. All heads turn to him, he is emanating so much Authority, he is irresistible. The University President looks on, calmly, as he watches the reactions of the crowd.

                “If I may, Doctor?” The deep voice of the newcomer is powerful, yet subdued.

                The young woman, the new Doctor, looks at the blond man in confusion. He seems familiar. His uniform boasts Federation Alliance medals, and a shiny Admiral’s Rank on the collar.

                “Of course, Sir. What can I do for you?”

                The auditorium seethes with curiosity as all heads turn to watch the Admiral approach the stage.

                “I am here to offer you a job, Doctor. Would you care to join us at Federation Headquarters?” His handsome face is serious and yet caring, and again she feels that sense of familiarity.

                She tilts her head, considering. She looks at her family, and her best friend, seated in the front row. Then, she smiles brightly, her face expressing her happiness.

                “I would like nothing better, Admiral. When would you like me to start?”

                The audience laughs, a joyous sound echoing in the chamber as the Admiral makes his way to the stage. The young woman waits for him, and tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that she cannot quite identify.

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lights camera action

It's so hard to know how much.
How much detail, how much action, how much insight.
I think I use as much detail as I would like to have. A lot of the books I read have many passages and even pages that I simply skim over... even some of my favorites. Really, Mr H, much as I ADORE your work and couldn't live without re-reading a good portion of it on a regular basis, I don't have the patience for all that math, or all that genetic mumbo-jumbo, or even some of the word games you play(ed) both in the actual story and in the writing of said story. (wow, run-on sentence much?)
Another issue I come up against regularly is language and colloquialism. It seems to me that what is common speaking language here and now might not be in a few years, and certainly not in a galaxy far away that we don't even know the name of. In my personal real life I may use certain terms and references but when I write it just doesn't seem appropriate. I have seen many stories, especially within the past few years, that use "cuss words" (LOL) on pretty much every page, and most particularly in "romantic" context. I don't think it adds anything to the story, it isn't descriptive. To my mind it's a lazy way out.
Instead of finding a way to evoke a visual or a feeling, just stick in a few expletives. That'll get the job done. A sex scene just isn't complete without fully exercising the right to the words "tit", "clit", "cum", etc. Right?
Now don't get me wrong, I can and do use those fucking words and many others just as well as anyone. Sometimes, perhaps too much.
BUT I don't spill that over into my work. It just doesn't fit, either my style or my characters. Or the story, for that matter. The books I enjoy the most and go back to again and again, what I and many others consider "classics", do not use that kind of language. It's just not necessary.


Onward we go.

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Chapter 5

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                We found ourselves on the Transport Pad on Level Six, just down the corridor from our quarters. The glaring lights in the corridor burned my eyes, and I blinked to clear the tears. I had expected that we would be sent to Medical, but we landed on the circular platform in the midst of what felt like a huge crowd. My mental receptors cringed, then as quickly subdued the commotion. We were greeted by several Officers, Commander Walker first among them, and Doctor Palmer, a Medical kit by her feet and thick woven blankets in her hands. The Doctor walked over to me first, dropped  the blankets, and hugged me tightly. She didn’t seem to notice when I slipped my hand as stealthily as possible into her pocket.

                The Captain looked around at his Crew, smiling weakly. Some small something caught my attention, a slight wisp that vanished before I could focus on it.

                Commander Walker stepped forward. “Captain, Sir. Are you all right?”

                “Yes Commander, I...” He didn’t get any further than that before his legs began to buckle underneath him.

                Arms reached out to catch him as he slumped to the floor.  His face was ashen, his hands shaking. I broke through the small crowd, pushing the Officers out of my way. His skin was chilled, his breath shallow as I knelt by him and tenderly touched his forehead.

                “Paolo? Can you hear me?” I took his hands in mine and brought them to my face. “Can you feel me? Please!”

                Doctor Palmer crouched down by us, her kit by her side. She brought out a scanner and began to run it over his body, arms, chest, legs. His inner voice was so weak, but he was trying to reach out to me. The scanner showed nothing unusual for a moment, only the expected pools of blood under the bruises, until the display suddenly began to flash.

                “What? What is it?”

explicitly

How much is too much? How much is enough? I come up against those questions often as the stories develop. Since I put the story down as it forms, there may be a lack of in-depth descriptions and explanations at first and it will become necessary to go back and add more. However, that aside, how much description and explicit detail is necessary?
For example, personally I find that a few brief words can create a picture of a person in my mind. This does not work for everyone. It also does not change that impression should there eventually be a picture of said person, in a movie or TV show or whatever. I've seen movies made from books that I know and love, and the fact that they made Lucy brunette in the movies (this bugs me. a lot) does not change the fact that in the book she has blond hair.  This is not overly emphasized, it's maybe mentioned once or twice. Should it ever come about that there is a movie made of my story, the actors most likely will not be 100% my vision of my characters, they can't be, though they may come close.
Poetic license and personal preference will play a part in how one sees something in the mind's eye, no matter how many words are used to describe it. I am not sure that it's better to use hundreds of words to describe a person, place or thing than to leave at least some room for interpretation up to the reader.

Rambling? Perhaps. That's what this blog forum is for.

Next Interregnum. We meet some new characters. Sort of.

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The Council- One

               

The Council Chamber is full to capacity.  All of the members are transfixed by the images being displayed in the holographic sphere. The translation devices attached to the dais allow the audience to understand the unusual sounds coming from the display. The beings shown in the sphere are going about their business, unaware that they are being watched.

                In a language that no Human has ever heard, nor has any other known race, the Chief Council addresses the assembly.

                “Our plan is in jeopardy. However, our agents are already in transit. We shall prevail.”

                The cacophony in the hall rises, as the members all begin to speak at once. When the uproar begins to subside, one voice is heard above the rest.

                “Master Chief, how much time is needed? This plan has been active for many cycles.” The speaker is another Senior member of the Council.

                The Chief is unfazed by this interruption. The plan has been sent off track, but the agents, ones who are able to adapt and assist, have already begun the recovery process. The display view changes, moving through Space, slowing as it nears its destination. The view widens and the planet fills the sphere with its eerie blue light.

                This planet is tilted oddly, its satellites many and of varied sizes. The swirls of its gaseous atmosphere create patterns and pools of blue and white light in the Council Chamber. The Council members are once again transfixed as the planet rotates in front of them. The view expands again, and one of the smaller satellites begins to fill the holographic sphere.

                Another object comes into the view, a large metal cylinder orbiting the strange blue planet. It is following the path of the small satellite, spinning on its axis as it travels. There is nothing remarkable about this object, other than the fact that it is there. The Chief takes note of the members who react to this image, they will be useful in the future. The rest of the Council members look on, indifferently, until the scene changes again.

                This time, the planet displayed is mostly brown and green, land masses covering a great portion of the surface. The blue areas are few, and this time they are water, not gas. This planet draws the intent interest of the onlookers.

                “There has been an incident. An unforeseen event that we could not have predicted.”

                The next image is that of a large pit, a hole dug in the soil of the planet. There is much rustling in the Chamber as the members, every one, react in shock.

                “What are we to do, Chief Council? This is a devastating development.”

                “We wait. Our agents have been watching one of our projects. It will be ready soon. In the meantime, we wait.”

                The rest of the Council is restless, wanting to believe, wanting to know that their leader will resolve the problem and put their plan back on track.

                The Chief remains still until the commotion quiets once again.

                “We cannot interfere, not personally. It will take time, but that is why we have sent our Travelers to that region.”

                “But will they be able to assist? They cannot show themselves either.”

                “They will make themselves known. In addition, there are others who will assist, knowingly or not.”

               

                The Council members leave the Chamber, it echoes with the rustling of their passing. The Chief continues to watch, and wait.

               

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wonders never cease

In my travels around the internet, I often come across websites that promise various things. From "ultimate deals" to "becoming a millionaire in 30 days" it's just amazing all the wonders you can achieve just by clicking your mouse...  However, occasionally I do find something that, even if it doesn't work miracles, is actually a helpful, useful tool.
One such tool that I use on a daily basis is Thesaurus . There's a tab on the site for Dictionary as well. They have a daily word, quotes, games... Anyone who is interested at all in words, or even simply needs a synonym or definition quickly, there you go. Bookmark it, use it.


Onward we go. Next Chapter.

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Chapter 4

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                There were so many questions in my mind, not the least of which was, how did they evade the security systems? And, why did I not sense their minds? And, most immediately for me at the moment, what is that horrid smell?

                The cloth over my eyes, the arm around my torso, the soft body I was forced to lean against, they felt Human. And yet, there were no feelings being directed at me, at least not from him. The only feelings I could sense, with some great effort, came from the Captain. He was alive, and nearby, that much was apparent. I attempted to reach out to him, but the only result was more sharp pains in my head. It was impossible to determine whether it was my pain or his at that point. Everything seemed to meld together in a blurry cloud.

                The musty, acrid smell assaulting my senses was completely unfamiliar. As the bright light disappeared, I was certain that we were no longer aboard the Draco. Once more I wondered how our updated systems had been overcome. There was really only one way that could be possible, and it was too awful to contemplate.

                The cloth was removed from my mouth, and from my eyes. But that did not increase my comfort at all, as the man merely moved his hand to my arm so that I was pinned even more securely against his body. I felt as the blood began to flow once more from my lip when the cloth was so roughly pulled out. As my eyes cleared, I looked around to see that the room we were in was unremarkable. Plain, featureless walls, a row of lights along the edges of the ceiling. The Captain was indeed nearby, slumped on the hard floor, wrists bound together in his lap. Thankfully, he was merely unconscious, breathing steadily, though how he got that way was a mystery.

symbols

Does everything always have to mean something? I don't think so.
Sometimes a train is just a train.
Other times, of course, it's not.

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Interregnum Four

                The handsome, fair-skinned young man is standing at the podium, his black hair perfectly groomed, his deep grey eyes glistening. His uniform is flawlessly pressed, the insignia on the collar twinkling in the bright stage lights, and it fits him as though he was born to wear it. He is addressing the assembled crowd, in a clear, confident voice.

                “...and may we all find our dreams in the Stars. I know I shall. Congratulations and best wishes to all. Good Night.”

                The crowd cheers as the young man steps back. Their admiration for him comes through in the thunderous applause that continues for minutes, even as the next speaker approaches. The domed chamber, large enough to accommodate several thousand people, is full to standing room for this event.

                The beautiful blond woman in the front row is watching with great interest. She smiles as the young man moves away from the podium and glances her way. He nods to her, briefly, then shakes his head in confusion as she blows him a kiss.

                As he makes his way off stage, the new graduate of the Fleet Officer Training Class is hailed by a familiar voice. He stops and waits in the wings, bright stage lights on one side, the darkness of backstage on the other. The symbolism is not lost on the speaker as he approaches.

                “Excuse me, Lieutenant Bianchi. May I have a moment of your time?”

                “Of course, Captain, Sir. What can I do for you?”

                The approaching speaker is quite tall, with blond hair, perfectly groomed. His pristine uniform boasts gleaming performance awards and medals on the chest, in addition to the Captain’s Rank insignia on the collar. His intelligent blue eyes look appreciatively at his protege.

                “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are now officially the youngest graduated Officer in the history of the Federation, with the rank of Lieutenant. Quite an accomplishment. Have you been notified of your coming assignment?”

                The young Officer shakes his head, smiling at his mentor. His eyes are shining with happiness, and pride. He has done well and he knows it. He has been working toward nothing but this day for many years, as many as he can remember.

                “No, Sir. Not yet.”

                The older, more experienced Officer looks at the younger with pride of his own. He knows more about this young man’s life than he has ever let on. No-one but the two of them know how very difficult it was for this Lieutenant to get to this point.

                No-one but the two of them know how anxious he is to begin his assignment, nor why he feels so strongly about leaving this planet. No-one except, perhaps, the young blond woman, still in her seat in the auditorium, waiting.

                “I believe you will be assigned to the Scorpius at this time, Lieutenant.  I am not on the committee but that was my recommendation.  You will get your orders by tomorrow, as that is when the Scorpius is due to depart.”

                The younger man looks at the older, trying to determine whether he is hiding anything. There is no deception. There is only the pride, and anticipation. He salutes the Captain, standing straight as can be, the perfect example of a Fleet Officer.

                “Aye, Sir. I look forward to getting under way.”

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