#>refocuses on the quadrant of interest

[fisheito]

sometimes, the silhouettes have an ambiguity to them that fosters a mystery-teehee-??-guessy-game. this is not one of those times

[zwoelffarben]

Don’t like slash of your shows, prissy writers? Then stop writing all of your leads locked in epic One True Love romance novel relationships with their same-sex coworkers. Give them warm, funny, interesting love interests, not cardboard cutouts… And then we will ship an OT3.

White Collar has entered the chat and to be fair, someone on the team understood these principles, and leaned into it in the marketing: but to be balanced, based only on the text putting these characters into a traditionally romantic-sexual polycule is unhinged: you need to add in hussian quadrants to make it make sense because peter and neal are cankerous, not flushed.

People, in general, like shipping and will ship whatever characters you give them. The reason wincest was the supernatural ship before destiel came around and refocused everyone's attention wasn't because the supernatural fandom was particularly into incest as a dynamic: it was because the writers kept killing off every potential love interest and the only consistant characters people had to work wit betwixt episodes was a pair of brothers.

Just look at Sam: his fiancee died as an inciting incident, he literally takes a love interest (Madison) out to back of the shed in the episode she was introduced, and his longest running relationship in show with a woman-adjacent character is Ruby who only last two seasons before the writers kill her off (one season if you count the actress change as two seporate characters, which is a reasonable idea). They literally gave us nothing to work with.

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Thirteen

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone is well!! Thank you to everyone that’s read/liked/reblogged/replied! I really appreciate it! Warnings: Uummmm none? I think? Tiny bit of angst but definitely less than last chapter. Summary: Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t want Pike knowing -- about Sorrel, about my dad, about Spargo trying to hold it over me. It had rattled me then, and it unsettled me now. 

 “How long are we not going to talk about it?” The Captain frowned, head tipping just a little as he asked, “Not talk about what?” I fixed him with a knowing look, and his mouth twisted into something that was a grimace masquerading as a smile.  The Treaty of Willfall had been signed by Choholl and Chihurs. Cornwell had chosen not to return for the negotiations, but instead had checked in with myself and Pike at the end of every session to see how we were progressing. Una’s analysis was just a day off; we had been able to bring the remaining conflicts to a peaceful resolution within five days. A diplomatic attaché from Starfleet was being briefed and would be stationed on the planet to help oversee the demilitarization and transitions of power that had been discussed. It was only the beginning for Larilia, but I beamed off of the planet feeling like I’d done some good. Throughout the remainder of our time on-world, Pike and I had discussed nothing but our strategy - we didn’t talk about home, or our lives like we used to; we didn’t discuss what had happened with Spargo. Our conversations were single-minded, to the point. I kinda liked it that way; I couldn’t allow Spargo’s threats to creep in and cloud our goal while we were there. But now that we were back on the ship, now that I was somehow alone again with Pike in his ready room, each of us two drinks deep and finished discussing the report I’d written up for my time on Larilia, the questions and the worries were creeping back in.

“You want another one?” Pike asked instead of answering my questions he stood from his couch. I cringed. “Am I going to need it for this conversation?” I asked before draining what was left in my glass. He chuckled, plucking the empty glass out of my hand and walking back over to his small bar. I glanced after him before looking ahead again. There was an ottoman in front of me, one that I’d been so tempted to use every time I was in there, but I couldn’t bring myself to muster the audacity to put my feet up. Maybe if I got a few slush-os in me first.  “Your laughter isn’t as reassuring as you think it is,” I grumbled. “Noted.” I smiled a little at that, resting my forehead on my hand as I waited for him to come back. “Here.” I looked up when I heard him and took my proffered glass with a mumbled, “Thanks.” Putting my Spock-cap on and drawing the logical conclusion, Pike should’ve resettled on the couch where he’d been lounging. Instead he lowered himself onto the ottoman directly in front of me, our knees brushing. My heart leapt into my throat as Pike looked down into his glass again. I looked over his face, at where his eyelashes fanned out. As he raised his head, I mirrored his previous countenance, looking down into the dark depths of my drink and swirling it around a bit. “I spoke to Admiral Cornwell,” He finally said, “And Spargo would technically have a case for insubordination-- but,” He cut in as I sucked my lips between my teeth, biting down on them to keep from saying anything stupid, “It’s been already been proven that Spargo was working in his own self-interests and not for the good of Larilia or the Federation. To top it all off, the Admiral had some additional information given to her about the...Situation that occurred between yourself and Spargo.” I frowned, releasing my lips from between my teeth and lifting my gaze back to Pike’s. “Additional…? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” “Number One mentioned a few things that Spargo apparently said to you. Cornwell needs you to confirm them, otherwise they’re just hearsay--” I leaned back in my seat, turning to look out of the window, watching the stars blur together as my stomach churned uneasily. I knew it wasn’t the drinks, it was the worry. 

Una. Blabbermouth. “What she told us was only in the interest of defending you--” Pike began to justify, and I grumbled, “I know.” That didn’t make it any easier. In truth, I didn’t plan on relaying that particular interaction to Cornwell or Pike myself. Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t want Pike knowing -- about Sorrel, about my dad, about Spargo trying to hold it over me. It had rattled me then, and it unsettled me now. “...Why didn’t you tell me that Spargo spoke to you that way?” Pike’s voice was careful, soft; he wasn’t condemning me, he was just confused, “You said that you thought that we had discussed strategy, but surely you didn’t think--” “No,” I shook my head, “Of course not, not that. You’re not a cruel man, Christopher.” His name slipping past my lips was enough to stun both of us. I watched his body shift, saw his eyes widen slightly in the space of a blink. I closed my mouth immediately, swallowing thickly before I made a show of setting my drink aside. Pike lowered his head, chuckling again, and I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I’m sorry-- and again: I do not find your laughter reassuring.” “You’ve had a long week, lieutenant, and I’m not exactly offended at being told that I’m not cruel.” I rested my head on my hand again, considering. “So, if I confirm with Cornwell what Spargo...Said, as well the logs from my PADD…?” Pike nodded, sitting up straight. “It’ll be fine. Spargo’s apparently got a long history of steering these negotiations in directions that favor him. I told you that you had my word, didn’t I?” I nodded, murmuring, “You did.” I met Pike’s eye again, giving him what smile I could manage. “Thank you, Captain.” He offered me a soft smile, one that loosened my own. “Anytime, lieutenant.” 

--

“Everything in order?” I looked up at Number One, smiling. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be sitting at a console.” I watched her step away to speak with Lieutenant Commander Thaleh, who was leaning over an ensign’s console. I knew I’d have to speak to Una about what she’d relayed to Cornwell and Pike about my dealings with Spargo, but now wasn’t the time. Frankly I had a lot of questions for Una, but it never seemed like quite the right time. Now and again, when I was trying to sleep, and every single disappointing thing I’d ever done in my life flooded into my mind to keep my awake, Una’s face would sometimes pop up - her frown from that day that Captain and I had returned from Sandblossom. Lately, though, my mind would offer me three conflicting images - all of Pike. The first was the last glimpse of him in the turbolift, that night we’d been at Liquara. The second was from just after he’d told me I was going to be serving as a translator on Larilia, when he’d waved off my apology -  that guarded little twist of his mouth as he’d said, “I overstepped.” The third, the most recent, was the look of surprise when I’d said his name in his ready room. The way his damn tractor-beam-blue eyes had widened - his head pulling back, the quick breath that he’d sucked in. It was like I’d burned him. And then to just laugh it off a moment later, like it was nothing.  I still couldn’t believe that I’d called him ‘Christopher’. Idiot. I mean sure, that was his name, but he was my Captain. I turned away from Una and Thaleh and refocused on my console. I was back on the ship, I was secure in my position, and the Enterprise was on its way to its next destination: a planet in the Beta Quadrant, with a language whose dialect that I had only the vaguest grasp on, but a written language that had been part of my dissertation. Spargo and Larilia were in my rear view. I could worry about Una and tractor-beam-blue later. Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​

[kiradaxx]

Critical Care

This idea jumped into my head soon as I saw the scene with Tuvok and Janeway holding hands on the bridge in the episode Critical Care. This is definitely not a criticism of that scene because I loved it and found it hilarious and Janeway and Tuvok are bros for life. Tuvok's reaction was priceless and both actors crushed it. But I couldn't help reimagining this scene with a J/7 twist, cause, of course. So here we go, enjoy my brief, goofy J/7 rewrite of this episode's fake dating trope.

Also on AO3 here

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A powerful headache was throbbing in Janeway’s temples as she waited for the communications link to be picked up by yet another Delta Quadrant inhabitant in the long line of fruitless interviews she’d been conducting all day. Patience was a virtue she did not possess, but diplomacy she had in spades. So she’d been smiling and charming and biting her tongue down on more acerbic comments all day as she attempted to track down the scam artist who had managed to steal their doctor’s program right out from under her nose.

After hours of chasing down contacts and bouncing from one rumor to the next, from one unhelpful, frustrating source to the next, not only was Janeway tired, she was bored out of her mind. However, they had finally found a workable lead in Gar’s current girlfriend. They had just concluded a call with her husband- a sad, weepy man with little dignity left to his name. He had divulged far more information about his wife’s adultery than Janeway cared to know, but at least they had learned something to go off of. Now, they were hoping this woman could give them Gar’s actual whereabouts, rather than just tell them yet another story of how he had conned some unsuspecting soul and made off into the ether.

Janeway leaned heavily against the railing of the main command stage of her bridge, staring at the still empty view screen. Her chin rested in her right hand, her elbow on the railing, and as she stared out into space, she suppressed the urge to tap her fingers restlessly against her cheek. Waiting for the call to be picked up was about as thrilling as watching paint dry, and while she hoped for a more productive conversation this time, she wished she could be doing just about anything else at the moment.

Finally, their hail was answered, and the view screen displayed a pale woman with a large forehead of unique ridges sitting luxuriantly on a couch in what appeared to be a sunroom of some sort. Making quick work of her initial assessment of the woman and the necessary introductions, Janeway wasted no further time in explaining who they were looking for. This held little interest for the woman, though, and rather than offering any information about Gar, she instead asked how they had found her. When she was informed that her husband had given them her name, a look of vague disgust overtook the woman’s features. Janeway lamented internally as she realized the moment the woman opened her mouth that she was about to be subjected to still more details of this couple’s relationship problems.

“You’re a woman, you saw my husband with your own eyes.” Her tone carried a distinct distaste as she continued, “Overweight, depressed. You would have left him too.” A playful spark and a vapid smile lit up the woman’s face next, and she added, “Especially if you had met someone as exciting as Gar.”

Nasty comments about the man’s size or emotional state were hardly necessary, but Janeway couldn’t afford to lose this lead now. Not when they’d finally come so close to getting the scammer’s location. So for the sake of her missing crew member, once more she bit down on the inside of her cheek and held back on her criticism of the woman’s shameful attitude. She was only just able to restrain an eye roll when the woman began extolling Gar’s seductive qualities. But her day had been long and exhausting and filled with some of the most inane conversations she’d ever entertained, and when she offered a placating agreement to the woman’s assessment, she didn’t bother to muster any more enthusiasm than she would have for extensive dental work.

Chin still in her hands, posture slouched, and boredom leaching through every syllable, she said, “Yes, he’s very exciting.”

Somehow, unfathomably, this woman managed to interpret her words as genuine interest in Gar. As a threat of competition for her lover. She stiffened, growing defensive and accusative, throwing a glare through the screen while asking, “That’s why you’re looking for him, isn’t it? You want him for yourself.”

Janeway stared at her incredulously for a long moment, at once both insulted at the implication that she would be attracted to a sleeze like Gar, and baffled at how dense this woman must be to believe her lackluster agreement had constituted any actual desire.

Her patience had long ago run out, and even her dedication to diplomacy was wearing thin at this point. Her battle against the roll of her eyes continued to be hard fought, but not fully won as she felt herself blinking rapidly through her exasperation. She lifted her head off of her hand but changed little else about her posture, and replied, “I assure you I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and her shoulders remained squared, clearly still offended. “Why, not good enough for you?”

“No it’s not that, it’s just-” Janeway began to reply earnestly, but cut herself off. This was maddening, and she did finally allow herself to roll her eyes then. How did they even get this far off track, and why was she continuing this ridiculous topic? She exchanged a quick glance with Seven, who was serving a duty shift on the bridge and standing not too far from where Janeway was leaning against the rail of the main command well. The quirk of Seven's ocular implant and the amused but critical gleam in her eyes told Janeway she was not alone in finding this woman impressively asinine.

An idea occurred to her then, an absurd one. A ridiculous solution for a ridiculous problem, she supposed. She needed to get their conversation back to the matter at hand without angering Gar’s lover or drawing out this argument any further, and when she looked to the woman standing to her right, she saw a method to do just that. With an expression that made little effort to hide how unimpressed Janeway was with this whole situation, she reached her hand out expectantly towards Seven. She was completely bemused, but understood what Janeway was asking for and, albeit hesitantly, she placed her hand in the outstretched one the captain offered. Their fingers interlocked, sliding into a comfortable position without thought, and Janeway made sure to hold their hands up in clear view of the screen. She squeezed Seven’s hand in silent reassurance, and thanked the universe that she had played along without spoken question, even if she could feel Seven’s confused stare burrowing into her profile.

She intentionally allowed a little extra husk to fill her voice, a smoky lilt accompanying the suggestive look in her eyes as she said, “Gar’s not really my type, if you catch my drift.”

The woman observed them for a moment with no reaction at first, her defensive demeanor unchanged. Tom Paris turned from his position at the helm in surprise, and Harry Kim chuckled to himself while Tuvok merely lifted one eyebrow in their direction. Janeway ignored all of them; allowing herself to be embarrassed would hardly be conducive to getting the information she sought, and she didn’t have the intention of giving any of them the satisfaction. She had nothing to feel embarrassed about anyway. She was dealing with con artists, a little misdirection was necessary. After a few more seconds, she saw the understanding dawn on the alien woman, illuminating her expression. She observed them more curiously now, fixating on their joined hands and seemingly sizing them up. Her hostility deflated, and she appeared to be appeased by the insinuation that Janeway’s interests lay in a decidedly more sapphic direction.

Relieved that the ruse had worked, Janeway tried not to think too hard about the pleasant warmth suffusing her skin where her hand remained cradled by Seven’s. She hadn’t expected Seven’s touch to be quite so gentle, almost tender, and she wasn’t sure what to do with this information now that her brain was aware of it. But this was neither the time nor the place for her to feel a fluttering in her stomach that she wouldn’t want to analyze too closely even in the best of circumstances. She wasn’t actually attracted to women after all, she was simply skilled in the art of deception when the need arose. So, she pushed the thought aside and refocused.

“We have a business opportunity for Mr. Gar.” She said, resolute professionalism twice enforced now to maintain her composure. “One that will expire if we don’t find him soon.”

With all of the fight in her posture vanished, the woman released a slight sigh and finally, finally gave them Gar’s current location. “He’s on his way to the gambling tournament on Selek IV.” She paused, then in a softer tone, she added, “When you see him, tell him to hurry home.”

Janeway bit her tongue down one last time for that afternoon and refrained from saying that there was very little chance Gar considered their affair to be more than a quick romp in the sack, let alone his home. She hoped the look she gave the woman wasn’t too pity filled, but as the connection was terminated and the star filled vacuum of space retook the screen, she indulged in one last roll of her eyes. Just a small one, well earned after having had to insinuate herself even peripherally into the marital drama of several random civilians.

In the next moment, she remembered she was still holding Seven’s hand. Her skin tingled at the comforting warmth still present, and she looked to Seven with a slightly sheepish expression. Seven, for her part, was staring rather intently at Janeway, brows furrowed deep in question. Janeway was about to apologize in case she had made her uncomfortable, but the other woman spoke first.

“Are you sexually attracted to women?”

Well, at least Janeway could count on Seven not to beat around the bush. She fought the flames of embarrassment licking at her heated skin, and instead quirked her lips up in what she hoped was a confident grin.

“I was just trying to get Gar’s girlfriend to focus on the question. I needed to mislead her a little, make her think you and I were an item.”

Seven studied her another moment before replying, voice devoid of inflection. “I see.”

Janeway couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling that she had disappointed or upset Seven in some way, and she returned to her original plan to apologize. She still hadn’t let go of Seven’s hand, though she wasn’t sure why. She squeezed the hand in hers lightly, and said, “It seemed like the easiest way to get the information. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Thank you, for playing along.”

Seven nodded but said nothing, leaving Janeway to feel like she was still missing something. She offered Seven one more crooked smile, one more small squeeze of their hands, and finally dropped her hold on the other woman. While Seven returned to her normal work, Janeway strode over to her command chair, sinking into it with purpose. She put aside the seed of worry digging into her mind for the sake of focusing on their task. Crossing her legs and assuming her authoritative positioning, she commanded Tom to lay in a course for Selek IV. She would apologize to Seven again later if she needed to, perhaps find a way to make the offense up to her if she were still upset. But for now, she had a member of her crew to rescue.

[959somaticcells]

A VF Planetary Lore HC Post: On Crydor

I’ve worked on fleshing out a few headcanons of mine concerning the Voltron Force universe (mainly to use as an adjunct resource for my fanfics, to try and keep myself somewhat consistent), and it’s about time I put ‘em up somewhere. This one is on Crydor, and I can’t seem to find the other planets I worked on so far... damn shame, I suspect I’ve lost the files. Anyways, for those parties interested, more below the cut!

Also, if anyone has particular areas of the VF universe they’d like to see me work on, please let me know!

Chapter 1: Crydor

Author’s note: this work is the beginning of my life’s project, to more accurately recapitulate the story of those worlds that have been either forgotten by history or written over, in an effort to pay my own form of respects to those countless unnamed victims of the violence that has reigned over our universe. I am, by birth and education, influenced by the Alliance narrative, but my desire is to counter this bias with as much research as I can glean from both sides of the war, as well as what primary records I could resurface. My hope is that one day, when this conflict is naught but an unpleasant chapter in the history of all sentient beings, we will be able to with clearer eyes look back at what was lost, and the prices that were paid for securing our freedom from the Drule Empire.

Crydor behaved as a colony in association with the Galaxy Alliance, as it was originally an effort to create a populated borderland between the Alliance and Drule-controlled territories of the remote and relatively unimportant Xiberan quadrant. While the world was not ideal or recommended for terraformation by Alliance scientists, political machinations nonetheless led to a great amount of time and resources being devoted to making habitable and sustainable a world well outside of the “goldilocks zone” of its own star system, on the grounds that with a sufficiently well-engineered greenhouse gas content to the atmosphere and the opening of geothermal vents via deep-core drilling, equatorial regions could be made into a suitable climate- at least, for the duration of the “summer”. In the relatively narrow band of land successfully colonized, the climate ranged from that of earthly regions in and around the Arctic circle, to Antarctic conditions only really livable with vast underground civilian spaces heated geothermally and maintained at great expense.

The Alliance set forward an initiative to populate Crydor specifically targeting those whose livelihoods were affected by the progressive warming and destruction of Earth’s own Arctic regions; these included Scandinavians, Sami, Inuit and other Northern populations, who were also given significant incentive in the form of financial support (and, perhaps, a bit more unsavory political tactics than the Alliance would admit to) and the promise of being able to maintain and preserve their culture by bringing along specimens of Earthly flora and fauna, which also contributed to the stabilization of the climate on Crydor via carbon cycling and atmosphere regulation. In addition, new populations were introduced that included long-extinct species that had once thrived in the colder regions of Earth recently made attainable by advances in paleontological genetics and zoology, such as smilodons, mastodons and myriad megafauna. These species over time diversified and adapted to the Crydorian conditions in unique ways, though the vastest portion of the planet remained unlivable for all but the hardiest of extremophiles. Many interplanetary scientists as well as civilians who felt burdened by the population density of their homeworlds also came to Crydor and integrated into the local culture, which remained remarkably peaceable with minimal cultural conflict. For many decades it seemed that Crydor would remain like this, a snowglobe-world enclosing within it these histories and traditions that had been struggling to survive on Earth.

However, politics are ultimately not motivated by goodwill towards cultural preservation and heritage, and the Alliance’s ultimate goals of keeping a populated world with a standing army near the frontier of the Drule Empire was becoming less of a priority as the Drule retreated from the Xiberan quadrant and refocused efforts to secure planets that had recently been seized by the Alliance following their expenditure in conflict between the Drules themselves. That is; Warlord-King Zarkon’s faction had been expanding in influence rather rapidly and captured a few key strategic mobilization and refueling worlds, and destroyed others simply for the sake of making them unavailable to the Empire. These destructive acts marked a major turning point in public opinion on Zarkon’s militia, as throughout the Alliance humanitarian organizations outcried the neglect of his heinous crimes against populated worlds, atrocities committed for no reason other than to create obstacles and inconveniences for the Empire. Ultimately a very limited number of survivors were retrieved from these outposts by Alliance forces, though little to no trace of their culture remains, a topic of great ire for many a ethnologist to this day.

While Crydor itself had for many years remained armed and ready, it ultimately was ignored amongst the regions of the universe serving as theatres of war, and was thus no longer needed as a strategic point for the Alliance. Furthermore, the investors within the Alliance government looking for potential sources of profit locked away under Crydor’s permafrost had ultimately found more suitable worlds from which to obtain those few natural resources that Crydor had to offer (namely fresh water and rare metals), cutting off the small amount of revenue that to many a politician had justified those centuries of Alliance effort being funneled into it. However, by this point, the population was large enough (the peak population reaching around three hundred thousand permanent residents) and the sense of planetary identity distinct enough for a movement to turn Crydor from a colony world to a fully-fledged Alliance member was begun. All this, however, would soon come to a terrible end.

What follows is not what will be found in any Garrison-affiliated Academy’s textbooks, nor in nearly any Alliance histories. The reality of Crydor’s fall is not that of a colony world abandoned by its own citizens, but rather that of a people abandoned by that power which had hereunto supported them. Perhaps the word “abandoned” seems unduly harsh, but to those precious few survivors of what happened on Crydor, no other vocabulary seems suitable.

While negotiations were underway for the Crydorian Question in Alliance meeting rooms on Earth, an unexpected turn of events led to Drule militia reentering the Xiberan quadrant and effectively working to clear out any Alliance presence from any of the six populated solar systems within. While the Drule had no intent at this time of colonizing or even harvesting resources from these worlds, the situation had changed within the upper management of the Empire; the Xiberan quadrant now represented an astropolitical obstacle to further-reaching efforts to secure trade lines and military dominion, much like how in the Terrestrial days of human civilization, an inconsequential island in a sea that is otherwise controlled by a larger power is best neutralized such that there is a region of unquestionable sovereignty over the waters and any future incursions into the region are discouraged from foreign powers. Crydor itself was, at this time, of no consequence to the Drule Empire, but the Xiberan quadrant as a whole needed to be cleared out to give a larger berth for Imperial fleets and tradeships to freely travel without interference, as well as to protect routes of military communications. At this point in time, weapons capable of effectively destroying entire planets already existed, though such resources were not expended on Crydor; rather, an atmosphere-disrupting weapon effectively destroyed the thermoregulatory capacities of the world, but not before Drule soldiers had effectively wiped the Crydorians off the map, alongside the eight other populated worlds within the Xiberan quadrant.

Amongst these victims of this rarely-spoken-of genocide, only Crydor left any survivors, as a small number of civilians who hid within some of the more secure bunkers of the underground geothermally maintained living spaces were able to hold out until the Drule cleared the area, sent a distress signal and were retrieved by the Alliance- albeit quietly and without fanfare. It is a particularly black mark on the history of the Alliance that the earlier rumbles of unrest suggesting Drule activity in the Xiberan quadrant were not treated as a priority, and that Alliance ships in the area were instructed to retreat upon word of the Drule movements inwards rather than stay and help defend the colonies. Because of the remoteness of these events, and the lack of individuals to protest the written history, it is said that the Crydor colony collapsed and failed of its own accord, after the climate shifted suddenly and proved too much for human survival. This change to the story is further facilitated by Crydor alone bearing any survivors, who only numbered in the hundreds, and another significant factor- that these survivors happened to be either too young to remember much or too old to carry the memory very far into the future.

This was the product of a unique aspect of Crydorian culture, wherein during those spells of weather that were particularly harsh (with temperatures dropping below minus eighty centigrade and violent hailstorms marking the Crydorian winter several times each year), children and the elderly, as well as those with other health problems, would remain further underground while those able would would work closer to the surface to maintain the infrastructure that allowed survival in these extreme conditions. One such severe storm was ongoing as the Drule bombarded Crydor’s surface and sent down cold-impervious droids with orders to destroy any organic life encountered; while the armed forces of the planet fought back valiantly, the combination of the timing of the attack during such a storm and the sheer force of the Drule invaders (it is believed by military historians that Crydor was an experimental grounds for these new droids developed by an ambitious young scientist by the name of Maahox, working with a rare element to create more resilient and deadly mechanical soldiers that might lead to his promotion within the ranks upon this demonstration of their abilities) ultimately overpowered and decimated Crydor.

The survivors, unable to help or contact their loved ones, held out for about five weeks thanks to the stockpiled resources and dedicated work of the elders, who hoped that the children of Crydor might carry on the memory of their world and live to better days. Of the several underground cities where such groups were present, not all would last the wait; ultimately, one community’s survivors alone evaded the flooding and tunnel collapse that the Drule bombing campaign caused- those from the former Crydorian spaceport town of Telavaag. Only after the month-long storm had cleared did Alliance forces come down and seek out the sources of the distress signals, returning the victims to their ancestral planet, Earth, for rehabilitation.

The amount of post-rescue casualties was unusual, as even after being treated on Earth, the majority of the survivors (and many medics and soldiers who had come down for the rescue) succumbed to a strange, neurodegenerative illness somewhat resembling a mixture of radiation poisoning and late-stage rabies- it was not contagious, so no quarantine was necessary, but it nonetheless disturbed and puzzled doctors. However, the survivors were so thinly spread that the nature of this anomaly wasn’t able to be characterized and understood until far later, when the alliance first truly became aware of the nature of Maahox’s rare element used in powering his droids. It would come to be known that residual haggarium from blown-apart droids had created microcrystalline shards that penetrated the skin of some survivors and Alliance workers on their way out of the planet, and that the unrefined nature of this haggarium made it particularly lethal compared to its processed form created and used later on for more advanced weaponry. Only some dozen Crydorians survived within six months of arrival on earth, including the former Voltron Force member Sven Holgersson, whose twin brother had died of the then-mysterious Crydorian Survivor Sickness.

These remaining few were all under the age of fourteen and were largely unable to counter the misinformation of what had happened on Crydor; after all, traumatized children are known to have poor memories of the reality of their situation. Within the Alliance itself, this neat rewriting of the canon of Crydor was largely contested, but ultimately the argument put forward that the reality was far too grim and damaging to public trust, as the Alliance would be seen in an incredibly poor light due to its lack of forethought towards monitoring and protecting the people of the colonies. As during this time in history, the Alliance-Drule war had taken its ideological slant to a new extent, such unheroic and disturbingly pragmatic decisions as to leave politically and strategically insignificant populated worlds to the wolves needed to be erased from the public consciousness. After all, there were very, very few who would say otherwise.

To the time of writing, Crydor has returned to its native state as it was before colonization, at least as far as I as the historian know. If there is any remainder of life on that world, it is not spoken of, and Crydor is a brief afterthought in the annals of Alliance maps and history books, more well-known for its unique geology and eerie tale of the failed colony than anything else. With its last known son- the aforementioned Sven Holgersson- missing and presumed dead for many years, it is unclear whether anything of Crydor’s story remains to salvage, but one thing is clear to me- that history is not written solely by the victors. History is written by any and all those who are given the opportunity to change the narrative; by force, lack of dissenting voices, or a stark desire for a particular past to be held true in the hearts of those still seeking to believe- in whatever they need to- for their actions past and present to be the correct choices.

[followingprotocol]

“Furniture polish, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

Feeling Hosin’s hand slide into his servo as he asked his questions, Chase gave it a gentle little squeeze.

“I’m not sure when the first Cybertronians began arriving on Earth, but... well, the story of how our team ended up there is exciting, though rather sad. We left Cybertron while things were still relatively peaceful... We had just completed a routine patrol of the Gamma Quadrant and were about to head back, when we received an SOS from a disabled ship. Unable to reach headquarters to confirm our detour, we responded anyway, as any good rescue team should, but it turned out to be a trap. An energon eater had tapped into the ship’s computer system to send out the SOS and lure in other ships so that it could drain their energon supplies as well... from both ship and crew... Our ship’s max velocity drive had not had time to recharge from the journey out, so we were stuck there, essentially just a free meal waiting to happen... It was Heatwave who hit upon the idea to put ourselves in stasis... It would stop the beast from smelling our flowing energon... it would lose interest in our ship completely, letting us drift away to safety. Of course, we were counting on being awoken the moment we missed our scheduled check in with headquarters, but... I can only assume that the war kicked into gear while we were in the Gamma Quadrant... it would explain why our signal never got through when we tried to check with headquarters about responding to the SOS.... I’m still trying to work out precisely how long we drifted in space, at any rate it was long enough for the war to have shifted from Cybertron to Earth. Our ship received a Priority Prime signal from Optimus and we found ourselves on an entirely new planet.”

He vented softly and paused for a moment. Using his free servo, he readjusted the blanket beneath his hips to make himself more comfortable and gave Hosin a small smile, running his thumb over the smooth skin at the back of his hand.

“I don’t regret staying on Earth... it’s a remarkable place and I’m glad to have the opportunity to serve our little island community as a law enforcement officer and general peace keeper... though a great deal of the situations on Griffin Rock are downright absurd.”

Chase felt a slight tingle and shifted his gaze to where Hosin’s feelers were still hovering above him. He closed his optics for a moment, refocusing his field to brush just a little more firmly against the appendages. How sensitive were they to electromagnetism? Could he learn to communicate things to Hosin through his field the way he did with fellow Cybertronians?

“Can you feel that?”

Hosin hadn't been this nervous in quite some time. He'd spent half the day preening himself; he'd shined up his latex with a bit of his strawberry-scented sweet polish, fluffed up his chest poof a few times with dutiful hands, and carefully examined each and every freckle on his face without fail. He'd even counted them. Did he have too many? Did he have to little? He'd counted them on his hips too, he seemed to have more there, so why were they so disproportionate on his cheeks? Agh, it really didn't matter, did it? Now he was just being obsessive. He ruffled up his latex chest poof again and felt his feelers buzzing with nervous excitement, going back to his datapad and checking it over a few times before syncing it up to his commpiece in his ear. He heard the buzz of static as a connection was made, leaving his date a shaky, but quite giddy, message. "A-Ah, hello! Hello, Chase? I will be leaving for the observation deck soon, m-more like right now-" He paused to swallow, trying to bite back a nervous smile as he was hit officially with first date jitters. "R-Remember the ship is passing through a meteor storm soon, and I would love to watch it with you..." His voice trailed off to a little squeak before he took a deep breath. "S-Sorry! Sorry, I am a bit nervous, but I hope you get my message and it finds you well and..." Goodness, he was rambling, wasn't he? "I-I will see you soon!" Hosin ended the message and slipped the earpiece free, dropping it in his satchel as he stuffed his favorite fluffy purple blanket in his satchel to lay back on and watch the cosmic show. He hoped Chase liked the stars as much as he did; they were quite the sight, and he wanted to share his knowledge of things without it coming off as too nerdy. You can do this, Hosin. You can do this! He's very cute, sweet, and he already likes you, so there's no way you can possible mess this up! After a little internal peptalk, the little Suppalian held himself high and left his hab, letting the door swing closed with a soft click as he made his way to the observation deck.

Chase had just finished off a meticulous polishing session. He was standing before the large mirror in his hab, checking his frame for any unfinished spots, when the soft chirp of his comm startled him into dropping his polishing cloth.

Primus, calm down. He likes you just the way you are… even if you might have missed a spot and have a glob of unabsorbed polish just hanging on your frame somewhere….

This intrusive thought brought on another hasty inspection of his person as he listened to Hosin’s message.

… And just like that, Chase felt better. He was still nervous of course, but hearing the same emotion in Hosin’s voice steadied him. As a rescue bot, Chase was used to hearing nervousness of varying degree in the voices and mannerisms of the ones he was helping, so much so that it now automatically pushed him into a quieter state of mind, allowing him to become a soothing, steadying anchor, ready to be latched onto.

He might have felt calmer, but he was still giddily happy. He hummed quietly as he plucked his favorite blanket from his berth, folded it over one shoulder and took one last look in the mirror before leaving his hab for the observation deck.

[jamieclawhorn]

Forget a cash ISA! I’d pick up an 8% dividend yield from FTSE 250-member Saga

While cash ISAs have been popular in previous years, the reality is that they’re unlikely to generate positive returns once inflation (currently standing at 2.3%) has been factored in. Obtaining a return on a cash ISA of more than 1.5% is challenging at present, which means any amount invested is set to be worth less in future than it is today, in real terms.

In contrast, FTSE 250-listed Saga (LSE: SAGA) offers a dividend yield of over 8%. This suggests it could generate high returns, with a margin of safety appearing to be on offer. After a disappointing share price performance, the travel and finance company targeting the over-50s could deliver a sound recovery, alongside a smaller dividend stock which released some positive news on Monday.

Improving performance

The company in question is Real Estate Investors (LSE: RLE). The Birmingham-focused real estate investment trust (REIT) is seeing an increase in tenant demand across its portfolio. Its number of tenants increased by 4.3% to 269 in 2018, while its occupancy level of 96.1% is 2.2 percentage points higher than in the previous year, representing a record level for the company.

The business intends to continue to focus on existing opportunities within its portfolio. It recently acquired a mixed-use scheme called The Quadrant in Redditch for £3m, which represents a net initial yield of 12.2%. Although it’s aware of potential economic challenges, it continues to seek expansion opportunities.

With a dividend yield of 7.7%, Real Estate investors could have income investing potential. Clearly, it’s a relatively small business which operates in a narrow geographical area. However, with a price-to-book (P/B) ratio of 0.8, it could offer a wide margin of safety.

Recovery potential

Also trading at a relatively low valuation is Saga. As mentioned, it’s experienced a disappointing share price performance in recent months, following the FTSE 250 lower while being hurt by difficult operating conditions. They have caused its financial outlook to remain somewhat challenged, with profit growth expected to be minimal over the next couple of years.

From an income investing perspective, though, the stock could have significant appeal. Its dividend yield stands at 8.6%, which is 3.7 times the current rate of inflation. Dividend payouts are expected to be covered 1.5 times by profit in the current year, which suggests that they are affordable and could even rise over the medium term.

In terms of Saga’s valuation, its price-to-earnings (P/E) ratio of 7.9 suggests that it offers a margin of safety. Its bottom line is forecast to return to growth in the next financial year, while a refocused strategy could help to enhance its financial returns. At a time when a number of FTSE 350 shares yield over 5%, the stock could offer a mix of dividend appeal, value-investing potential and recovery prospects over the long run.

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Big 8% dividend makes the Saga share price look tempting to me

Peter Stephens owns shares of Saga. The Motley Fool UK has no position in any of the shares mentioned. Views expressed on the companies mentioned in this article are those of the writer and therefore may differ from the official recommendations we make in our subscription services such as Share Advisor, Hidden Winners and Pro. Here at The Motley Fool we believe that considering a diverse range of insights makes us better investors.