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ambiguouspuzuma · 1 year ago

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The Horologist

The HRS Azimuth was doomed on the eighteenth of August. It had lost its bearings early in the morning, at exactly a quarter past three, and thus began its sombre journey across the Styx - for all souls aboard were lost when it was finally found again. A ghost ship, run into a sheer cliff face as if on purpose; scuttled, like the crabs which now roamed freely across its decks.

Maritime calamities are rarely recorded with such precision. This is inevitable, despite the best efforts of their attendant historians, due to the way that wood decays, or salt preserves; meaning that whilst corpses may be examined, in order to determine a general time of death, there is no knowing how slow and drawn out the wait for it had been.

There are too many variables: one crew might have saved more rations, or doled them out more carefully, and hence postponed starvation for at least a few more tortured days. The end was set, but they could take their time in getting there. In this case, however, Arturo knew the moment of the struck ship's doom for certain. After all, he had planned it all out in advance.

Of course, it could be argued that the ship had been doomed all along - dead in the water from the moment that she left her berth, the crew's fate having been sealed long before that fateful night. If he had been pressed on that point, Arturo might have pointed to an evening some months hence, the minutes following a dinner which had been too rich for his tastes; digesting his own first taste of crab, but struggling to stomach his dining companions most of all.

"And have you ever worn a beard yourself?" asked Lord Gastan, seated to his right. He stroked his own forked number as he spoke, consciously or not, in a way that shed stray hairs across the tablecloth. Arturo moved his glass a few inches to the left.

"I am afraid not, my lord," he replied, without a question of his own. He saw that topic opening up like a chasm before them, a long-winded conversation about nothing of interest, and did his best to close it down. "I must confess that I have never seen the appeal."

"Ah, but perhaps you are right." Those taciturn tactics seemed not to have worked; Lord Gastan only nodded sagely, as if prompted into deeper thought. "They are such work to care for! The lotions, the oils, the constant tending - oh, like a Persian cat, or a pedigree Afghan hound!"

He bore the air of a man who had neglected to shave one morning and, rather than apologise for such slovenliness, decided to make it his entire personality. Such men always spoke of wearing their facial hair, an accessory to be consciously donned or discarded at will, rather than a disordered growth which freely sprouted from untended skin.

Arturo kept his bat straight. "I have never kept pets either, my lord."

"My God, man! Whatever do you do?"

That roused his attention. I work, Arturo wanted to say: both to sap more energy from the conversation, and to emphasise the difference between them. But he had to make the effort of civility. These Guild dinners were a chore, but they were all part of that work, an important investment in his career.

The city's Makers were often self-made men, but there was a limit to how far that path could take them. Even the greatest artificers could only make so many sales directly from their crooked shops, largely surrounded by competitors and peers. To truly reach their potential, they required a degree of patronage - investment in the latest apparatus, commissions, introductions, renown - and that meant being patronised from time to time.

The Guild arranged these dinners so that those two worlds could meet, to mutual gain; playing matchmaker between aristocrats and artificers, between money-men and, well, matchmakers. The likes of Lord Gastan could invest in Arturo's work - purchasing a stake in the future, anxious not to be left in the past. They would make a tidy profit, increasing their wealth and forestalling that irrelevance, whilst helping him up to the first rung of a ladder they had never had to climb themselves.

"I am a horologist," he replied instead. "A crafter of pillars and plates, balances and barrels, caps and cases. A maker of fusees and escapements. A cutter of wheels, a painter of dials, an engraver, a piercer, a finisher. That is what I do, and that is what I am."

"Ah... very good." After bearing with his babbling for three courses, Arturo was pleased to leave Lord Gastan lost for words. "And these, ah, escapements..."

"I make watches and clocks."

"Right. Yes. Such valuable work! Why, I myself was saying just the other day - to none other than the Admiral, you understand - that we have such a wealth of talent in the city, we really must be able to solve the issues his chaps have been having in the fleet."

"Issues?" For the first time, in over eighty minutes - according to the Guildhall clock, which Arturo had seen was never wrong - their conversation threatened to become interesting.

"Oh, yes! The search for new chronometers, of course - just as vital as the hunt for new uncharted lands, to hear the Admiral tell it, and of course crucial to their success. The current batch of instruments are just not up to snuff, and his office has decreed a new Trials to muster up some alternatives."

"They need... clocks?" The colonial machine had always seemed, well, imperious. Arturo couldn't think of it running on clockwork, let alone struggling to do so.

"Something to do with co-ordinates, as I understand it," Lord Gastan said. "Mariners have no way of telling longitude at sea, and there have been some terrible disasters as a result. I always thought they used the stars, but apparently they're not up to anything but latitude."

He stroked those luxurious moustaches when thinking, as if hoping to turn the conversation back to his subject of choice. Arturo resented them, knowing just what a luxury they were: he had answered honestly about his lack of facial foliage, but it was not a matter of never having seen the appeal, rather needing to retain his appeal to others.

As a newcomer in this city, he'd had to appear clean and clean-shaven at all times in order to be invited to Guild dinners in the first place. Arturo was a watchmaker by birth, but an Armestadter by trade. Upon arrival, he'd made it his vocation to steep himself in the city's stereotypes and culture: first to earn his residence, and then to earn a living. Flowing locks might be accepted on imported cats and hounds, but the city's great and good would only brush shoulders with a certain kind of immigrant.

He wore his curls cropped-close, his brown cheeks bare, and a simple, pressed white shirt - always tailoring his personality to match, keeping within the box they'd made for men like him. People wanted to do business with young Arturo, the neat and tidy northerner whose impeccable service always came with a bow and a smile. He'd had to dispense with his traditional dress, his long, braided hair, and his pride most of all. They would not take him as he'd come, independent and free, so he'd suffered in subservience - and found pride in his work instead.

"Disasters?" That had his attention, even more than the talk of keeping time.

"Without a bearing, ships can be lost. Have been, in fact - and more than a few. Small wonder that the Admiral is making this a priority."

"Of course." The gears in his own mind were still turning. "Do you mind explaining how it works? I have a professional interest, you see."

"Well, from what I was able to grasp - and I am far from an expert, you understand - if a clock is set at its home port, and well-maintained, the navigator can simply check the time wherever he is and compare the two. The difference is his longitude: the number of degrees east or west."

"How would he know the local time?"

"Why, by observing the heavens!" Lord Gastan spoke as if it was obvious, the numbers plastered across the sky. "Again, I am hardly a mariner myself, but I gather that this is what sextants and such are for."

He talked as a man who often gathered, but rarely sowed. Lord Gastan was not the type to work the field himself. Arturo doubted he'd ever held a sextant, or any other tool more complex than the oyster fork he waved to make his point. It was his liberty to talk about such things as matters-of-fact, another man's life's work distilled into an anecdote, enjoying the fruits of a knowledge he had never had to earn.

Arturo eyed his shabby, ill-fitting clothes with contempt. Not for the style - having grown up on hand-me-downs himself, he had no right nor inclination to prejudge a book by its jacket - but that he was able to carry it off, due to the vest of privilege worn underneath. A chainmail forged from silver spoons. How much had he saved for his Guild dinner clothes, fretting each time over starching them enough? All when Lord Gastan could roll into this grand hall as if it was his drawing room. The nouveau riche could afford to dress well, but only old money could afford not to.

"That does sound useful." Arturo was an expert in the detail of his craft, but he hadn't considered such far-reaching applications. "But we have perfectly well-functioning clocks. I work on them every day. Forgive me, but I fail to see the problem."

"Well, this is your profession, not mine." Lord Gastan didn't try to hide his exhaustion with this line of questioning, but Arturo let the sigh go without comment. He was glad to be the bore for a moment. "But it is all to do with the pendulum. A reliable timekeeper on land, yes, but it simply cannot abide life at sea. The temperature, motion, corrosion, friction, lubrication..."

"I see." Arturo smiled. The pendulum. He would simply have to make a clock without its central part. "Well, I could certainly take a stab at that."

"If you wish to add your name, any and all attempt are welcome," Lord Gastan said, both magnanimous and patronising. "The two-hundred arum reward has attracted many young hopefuls. Of course, only the Masters have succeeded at a Trials before."

"Of course," Arturo echoed. He was not a capital letters Master, nor had much prospect of becoming one, though it was not for want of skill. In its lower case, he had achieved mastery within months of arrival; after years to hone consistency, he now produced a masterpiece every other week. But ability was not enough. Even Armestadt, that great beacon of talent, was far from a meritocracy.

The rank could only be bestowed by invitation from the Guild, and the Guild was comprised of Masters. They had grown old and rich on the backs of imported genius, young minds to be apprenticed and bound to their brands, shackled to their workshops with a distant promise of inheritance. They saw no reason to end that careful balance; the gate they kept barely ajar, so that they alone could mete out the proceeds of their work. They had no reason to promote him from inferior to equal; from underdog to competitor.

Arturo had forged his own path, but it had been a narrow, winding one, and it could only take him so far. He was a man who preferred his own company, to be left to - and with - his own devices, but he needed these dinners, the charity of patrons, in place of a Master to serve and suckle from. Then there was the prospect of these Trials: two-hundred arums would fund his work for months, or reduce his reliance on sponsors like Lord Gastan. For an independent Maker, it was a tempting reward all its own. But Arturo had another prize set in his sights, and it was worth far more to him than gold.

After dinner he retired to his workshop, the place where he'd strived to retire so many of his competitors. Arturo had never lacked for motivation, but now he was charged with a new focus: Lord Gaston had sold him the vision of a clock that could go anywhere in the world, and still dance to his beat with perfect rhythm. At least, Arturo thought, he had a project worthy of his talent. After years toiling in the shadows of the greats, this would be his masterpiece.

Armestadt was the city of the future. There were others with more prestige, certainly, more intellectual pedigree - and the Guild might have chosen the university towns of Tornfut and Roelm to seed its roots, if it had wanted thirsty minds and bright ideas, or the market capital of Hasanbout, if it was in need of golden arums most of all, raw materials and hefty coffers to buy them.

But it had settled here. Not for knowledge of the past, or the riches of the present, but the promise of the future. Armestadt was a city of Makers, most of all. Its bustling streets were crowded with all manner of artisans who had dedicated lives to their particular professions: polymaths who expounded genius with their hands rather than words, alchemists who created things from iron worth far more than their weight in gold.

It was Makers who crafted the specific, delicate pieces required for the advancement of Science - lenses for refracting light, intricate pulley mechanisms - and thus kept the wheels of progress moving on. Since his arrival in this foreign land, it was all Arturo had ever wanted to be. He had been powerless, impoverished, and knew that he could never gain the wealth or power lords like Gastan had been born with. But he could have knowledge, and talent, and graft. As a Maker, he could make himself their equal.

His workshop was nestled in the crook between Candlewick Lane and Creechurch Street, a thin building whose bulging bow windows gave the impression of being squeezed by its neighbours. It was an expensive part of town, with space at a premium, but convenient for his clients and potential benefactors. A twenty-minute walk from the Guildhall, if he made good time - and Arturo always did.

It was also his temple. He did most of his work in a narrow room, cluttered with all sorts of contraptions, half-finished, half-begun. It was a house of clockwork faces ticking in step, as Arturo did himself: he heard the music of the passing time, and knew how to play it on almost any instrument. His lungs breathed with the second hand, his heart beat with the pendulum.

Or not. He would have to find another way.

It wouldn't be the first attempt. There had been experiments with springs, for pocket-watches and carriage-clocks, but so far they'd lacked the precision of his more traditional work. Portable clocks were a novelty - some found them for short-term use, but they lacked the perfect accuracy Arturo had always craved. Still, if the Admiralty demanded it, he would have to see what he could do. He had long laboured at perfection; now he set his sights higher still.

It could be said that the HRS Azimuth was doomed that night: the moment the crew's fate was sealed behind glass, wound up and set to run. But their end might have been foretold even earlier, on another ship, bringing Arturo to their shores - or perhaps on the ships of the past, heading to conquer the land where he'd been born. He was the fruit of those seeds; the reaper their ancestors had sowed. The enemy who'd grown here in their midst. The cuckoo who now emerged from amongst his clocks.

Armistadt was the city of the future, as all of its local nobles loved to boast. Unfortunately for them, Arturo hailed from one of the nations of the past. His homeland was a once-mighty kingdom, brought low by the greed of its own rulers, and dragged lower by the greed of their new ones: imperialists who'd arrived to trade their sovereignty for a handful of magic beans, trinkets such as those he now made for their approval. When one man can be bribed to sell his kingdom, even the likes of Lord Gastan were rich enough to buy a crown.

Conquest had been a matter of business. They'd taken over the local mines, replaced their textiles, all industries now run from Hasanbout, native owners paid off for a fraction of their worth. With no opportunity at home, Arturo's peers had fled the sinking ship: their best minds flocked to Tornfut and Roelm, to learn how to supplant their mother tongue, to memorise the approved version of history. So it was that the ship continued to sink, with no-one left who knew how to right it again.

Arturo had arrived in Armestadt no better, but with little other choice: there were no Makers at home, no patrons, no Guild. If he wanted to master his craft, as he so sorely did, he would have to do it here. Armestadt was the city of the future, and it drew it in from miles around, leaving other places with little future left. This city was oft described as a melting pot, but Arturo had worked with furnaces, and knew that raw materials rarely arrived willingly. They were wheeled in as tributes to the flames; a sacrifice to something greater than themselves.

All four cities were a distortion that sat low across the landscape, a drain that drank in a hemisphere. Armestadt drew in talent as Hasanbout did cobalt, gold and iron ore, as Tornfut and Roelm did raw intelligence, and they all thrived like ticks upon their host. But such asset stripping was not without its costs. Trading routes were slung like grappling hooks across a vast and hostile continent, harpoons buried in the belly of a great whale, forgetting that roads run in two direction - and, once hitched, could be boarded from the other side. They exported resentment, and imported revenge.

Arturo made for an unassuming architect of destruction, stooped over his workbench: bow spectacles perched upon his nose, bow window allowing in the first glimpse of dawn to filter through. He worked delicately, as if wiring the clock to explode - his nimble touch dictating hands more graceful still, its calamity calibrated to the minute and minutest detail. He'd always taken care over his work, but this device might be his only chance to call an empire's time of death. Moreso than ever, he had to make it count.

Time was of the essence, with the Trials so soon. He worked around the clock, and then again, tinkering with every aspect to perfection, and then adding his imperfection back in. The trap would need to be intricate, to avoid detection by the judges, or those who oversaw the final installation. But nobody saw him now. The political philosophers loved to ask who watched the watchman, whilst the watchmaker entirely slipped their lofty gaze.

Arturo toiled for sleepless nights and restless days, counting down the seconds, one lined face above another. Time danced for him, allowing him to fit a month's work in a week, and he aged a year in exchange. But all that sacrifice was worth it. When the day of the Trials arrived, the device was finally ready: a carriage clock to fit a ship, more and less accurate than any that had come before. Arturo had cut his teeth on grandfather clocks, and now he'd created a clock worthy of his unborn grandchildren. Time had danced for him, and he'd plucked this dial straight out of the next century.

As promised, the Trials were flush with Masters. Arturo knew most of them by reputation, or past encounters, all of them disappointing. Lord Gastan had also shown up for the big event, along with some other high-rolling patrons of the Guild, as had the top brass of the admiralty. It was as if his whole world had been condescend into the docks for the day - or at least the ceiling that had always kept it contained. These were the limits of his present, and the pathway to his future.

As a late entry, and the lowest in seniority, Arturo's was the last scheduled attempt. He liked it that way. He was able to sit back and watch the so-called Masters expose each others' flaws, failing and falling one-by-one, before he took to the floor and exposed them all again. He needn't have worried so much before; or perhaps his fears had been well-placed, and driven him to resolve each and every one. Either way, there were no worries on the day. It all went like clockwork.

Going last, and coming first, meant that his coronation was easily lined up. Arturo stood clear as the most successful applicant, and there could be no doubt that his work had improved on all those who had come before. The device had worked just as intended; meaning that it worked well, for now, and didn't reveal the secret at its heart. Many of the Masters hadn't stayed past their own failed attempts, and Arturo thought it was the shame the whole Guild couldn't see his coronation - but it was sweet enough to be crowned by none other than the Admiral himself.

"I must congratulate you," he said, clasping his arm with a presumptuous hand. "Master...?"

"Arturo," he said, not bothering to make the correction. There was no stolen valour there. The rank was a formality he'd more than earnt in practice. "I am new to the Guild, but rising fast."

"As I see." The Admiral had seen what little he had permitted, but was the sort of man who liked to feel in charge. "Yours was an unexpected entry, as I understand, but the admiralty is fortunate that you decided to compete. You have your people's gratitude."

Arturo did not doubt it; though he suspected the Admiral was mistaken as to whom his people were. He was grateful now for the onerous Guild dinners, all of the practice with the likes of Lord Gastan, which had been rehearsal for this main event. He smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled. He was a metalworker, amongst everything else, and he knew how to manipulate the highest brass.

"It is my honour to serve," he said; a poor facsimile of patriotism, his mouth dry in the salt air. He was a far better liar with his hands. It was fortunate that these men heard only what they wanted to hear. "The fortune is all mine. But I have to thank Lord Gastan for his patronage. It was he who inspired me to stand before you here today."

He waved to his beloved patron, who seized this invitation to come and stand there with them. Lord Gastan had derived such pride from his previous conversation with the Admiral - none other, you understand - and Arturo knew he wouldn't resist a chance to bask in this reflected glory.

"Well, I can't quite take all of the credit," he said, as one who still felt tempted to give it a try. "But yes, it was my suggestion, I confess. I have always believed in the promise of Arturo here, and thought that this might be just the project for his keen and brilliant young mind."

Lord Gastan was hubris as always, but Arturo did not begrudge him the idea. It was true that, had they never spoken, he might well not be here today. He had planted the seeds of this ambition: the device, the Trials, the Admiralty's hour of need. There had been much about dogs and moustaches besides, but Arturo supposed that not everything the man said could be waffle. What was it they said about broken clocks?

"In fact," he said, "His Lordship deserves to enjoy the fruits of his inspiration. I have other commissions which keep me here, alas, rather than accompany my device on its grand voyage, but please, let him set sail in my place. If there is bounty, let him claim a share of it, in compensation for his generous patronage. If there is glory, doubly so."

"On uncharted seas? At my time of life?" Lord Gastan was as full of bluster as the dockside wind. "Oh, come now. In my youth, perhaps; but my seafaring days are long since past. I leave such adventures to the courage of younger men."

The Admiral coughed, perhaps to indicate that the pair were of an age; Arturo took the opening. "Oh but my lord, surely you do not doubt that the Admiral can keep you safe and secure? On his own flagship, no less? I am but a humble Makers, but surely our fleet are the power upon any waters they so choose to sail. Can you really question that?"

"I cannot," he conceded, although his eyes said otherwise.

"It won't be as frightful as it seems," the Admiral moved to assure him. "Ours is only an expeditionary voyage: to see and then return, with no drawn out engagements. We are simply to observe the unobserved; wonders never seen before by civilised man. I can offer you every comfort. Of course, it goes without saying that you can share my personal quarters."

Lord Gastan brightened at that prospect; a captive audience for his tedium. "You honour me, Lord Admiral."

"The honour will be mine, I am sure, to have such an esteemed guest upon our maiden voyage."

Arturo let them carry on the dance. He had learnt some of the steps, some of the words, across his early Guild dinners, but only aristocrats truly had the gift of it: like the food served, the language of diplomacy was too rich for an artificer's palate, and sickening in any but the merest quantities. Only those born to wealth, having been raised on its receiving end, actually had the stomach to enjoy it.

If Lord Gastan suspected a trap, he no longer shied away. He might recognise Arturo's insincerity, but think his motive plain: favour, patronage, influence with the Guild. He would be accustomed to such flattery, after all: the efforts of ambitious Makers to curry favour with whatever they had to offer as a bribe, compliments and complimentary mechanisms. All bare-faced manipulation, but all in good taste. He had courted such courtship himself, in attending Guild events. It he did not enjoy it, he would not have been there.

Arturo smothered the inner protests of his own anaemic pride. Against all odds, he had acquired two champions of the highest rank; with their support, should he continue, he would surely now make Master within the year. With a foot in that door, his path would be cleared for the next decade: to greater recognition, arums more than he could need, commissions to the greatest in the land. But he was himself a champion to others, from before he had arrived at these docks, and his first duty was to them.

At 3:15 on 18 August, the crew of the HRS Azimuth could feel that something was wrong.

They knew no fear upon these waters. Theirs was the flagship of the expeditionary fleet, the apex of the admiralty's ambition, the quill which would better divide the globe from Hasanbout. With sister ships to starboard and port, fore and aft, they'd set a course over the edges of the map, afraid of no peril or piracy that might assail them. They were the cutting edge that pierced the veil of ignorance: the Masters had crafted a sharper deadrise for speed, more powerful cannon for strength. Every plank of their ship was state-of-the-art.

Of course, that was where they were undone. Arturo's art had served a different state, a different muse. Following the successful Trials, he had been commission to outfit the whole fleet with his perfected chronometers, each set to the same exact time. He decked them out and cabined them in, a device wherever one might fit, and the Admiral was pleased to stand upon the future's gleaming prow: a line of shining clockwork galleons, a dozen cogs filled with a thousand gears and pinions.

It was a fortnight out to sea before the fear made itself known to them. For some, having grown used to the rhythm over the past weeks, it was simply a silence they couldn't place: a hole in the air, a lacuna in the melody of lashing surf and ocean gales. Amongst the music of the far side of the world, they'd been soothed by the ticking of a shell held to their ears, a clockwork conch that held the sound of home.

Some officers, with devices in their quarters, their every hour, minute and second tolled away, had found themselves attuned to that metronome: their breathing subconsciously aligned, their heartbeat keeping pace. It had become a crutch, taken for granted, until it fell out from underneath them; at 3.15 they found themselves stumbling, awoken gasping from their sleep without knowing why, before their assorted organs remembered how they'd functioned before.

For the navigators, it was an even graver problem. The night shift were already a skeleton crew, and they didn't notice when their bearings disappeared: the clocks simply stopped, frozen at a quarter past, and it was several minutes before they realised it had been a few. They tried to keep track, but there was no hope of counting on their own. From that point on, their hours were already numbered.

The next bearing was wrong. Days of ocean in every direction, not a glimpse of land in sight. As ever, Arturo had timed it to perfection. Stripped of its ability to navigate, the ship had been forsaken on the open sea: at the mercy of the winds and the tides and the twinkling mockery of the stars above, tracing a map that none on board had ever learnt to read. Such was the price of progress. Each advance in understanding covered over its own foundations.

Arturo knew all about that. Armestadt was the city of the future, and it built atop whatever past it came across, diverse cultures buried underneath its steel grey perfection. The progress of this expedition had a price that he had deemed too great to pay - and so he buried them instead. There were no bells to toll their death, nor the salvation of the lands which would go unrobbed, unmolested by the hunger of their endless tomorrow. The sand in the hourglass simply ran out, as the HRS Azimuth was quietly lost to time.

#writing #short story #writeblr #creative writing #original writing

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dawn-of-worlds · 2 years ago

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Various Absences

In which the Lunar Bridge is made permanent and a strange bureaucratic process forms in the courts of the Moon.

False-Fires infiltrate the Págar Star-Counters, creating the mysterious Society of the Flickering Stars.

The cities of the Occident grow supernaturally tall and proud.

And a refugee founds Gingat, the only honest city in the world.

Corobel starts turn 16 (I know, I know) with 14 points: 8 (roll) + 3 (nonhoarding) + 3 (left over)

Event (-9): The sages of Ecliptic have long (by the standards of that young society) sought to reopen a permanent connection between the two worlds. Azimuth, too, desires reunion with its lost children.

It is the Págar Moon-Watchers who first suggest a system for sending signals between the two worlds; on one fortuitous eclipse, they float through the red wound with a code, a map, and some of their finest telescopes. The project will require the connivance of both ends of the equation; knowledge is shared, efforts coordinated. Eventually, a solution is found, though none now remember it. It involves an expedition to the lake-bottom, conducted by Night-Singers, and another to the core of the Moon. They do not learn the secret, but they get quite close, close enough that the self-sealing

For one awful moment, the world is clear glass; they see the Tree for what it really is; they see the present from the outside, and cannot find it. Their minds blank and revolt, and their eyes are struck the pure black of the moon in eclipse.

The bridge-pieces are forced into a permanent alignment, eclipses being no longer required; the contents of the lakes no longer switch places; but all who immerse themselves in a certain part of the lake find themselves transported.

Relics of the experiment (lenses, scalpels, mirrors, lamps) resist being understood or remembered, and may (or may not) have certain other supernatural properties, which are (necessarily) rather nebulous.

Command Avatar (-1): Meanwhile, as the gracile bureaucracy of the Court of the Two skies swells with the tithes of the algal fields, the Coryphaeus makes it known that the Moon needs something. A system is established; applicants are received, vetted, reviewed, processed. The pale-vaulted chambers throng. Something is taken from them, though nobody can say quite what. No change can be discerned, but payment is received, in the eerie jewels of the Moon’s heart.

Command Avatar to Create Order (-1): Some Págar Star-Counters are taken in by False-Fires, creating the Society of the Flickering Stars.

Command Avatar to Command Civilization(-1): The cities of the Occident begin a campaign of monumental architecture, enhanced by magical techniques. Towers and ziggurats, sponsored by the great clans and religious associations, reach impossible heights.

Command Avatar to Found City (-1): There was a city in the Occident which was governed unsurpassedly well, whose streets were clean and friendly, whose councillors, in clean pressed linen robes, ruled a peaceful and a quiet people. Its constitution was engraved in white travertine for all to read, and the laws it gave were respected universally. Travellers came to see them from the very vertices of the earth. In that fine republic, all knew their place, and all knew their place was just.

I will not name that city. I will not elaborate the laws that structured the perfection of its life. They are no longer important. You know why. What else could happen to such a place?

There was one survivor. As he shuffled away from the ashes, tasting salt, the old city fell from his sandals and his mind, and a secret coagulated in the locket around his neck—or did he carry it from the ruins? No matter.

He would make a new city, and he would do it right. It would be the only honest city in the world.

Whosoever could kill him in open combat would become the king, and pluck the terrible secret from the phylactery of his neck, and open it, and not reveal it, and be killed in turn.

Across the sea, in the lands where the seasons change, he founded Gingat, the Honest City.

1 point remains.

#world 02547 diegesis #going hack mode

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azimuth-only-one-ill-follow · 1 year ago

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You Questioned Our Determination

Ri sighed softly and stretched, turning himself over onto his belly and pillowing his head in his arms. Davan chuckled lightly and tucked a blanket around the slighter man in an attempt to keep him warm. Ri huffed and wriggled, working the blanket down to around his hips. He was still quite warm from their very enthusiastic and athletic romp, and for now, the blanket was more suffocating than comforting.

Davan fell silent then, and Ri made a curious noise. It wasn’t like Davan, who was more like his old self in these calm moments. Moments where he didn’t feel the weight of his choices and the prices they took. Moments he could still muster his youthful enthusiasm and exuberance. Moments where they were both too tired and too happy to remember that life had already happened to them, and that the future was no longer infinite.

It wasn’t that Exile’s Rest tied them down, not like their home village had, but it was still a ponderous millstone around Davan’s neck, keeping him firmly anchored in the here-and-now. It was a beloved burden that required careful tending, like a garden too delicate to allow one to travel. Like a sick child, or sheep in wolf country, or a river with beavers. An important and precious blessing that required constant upkeep and commitment.

Cities were not for apathetic dreamers.

Still, these were moments Ri could eke out where Davan would set that burden down. It had near instantly endeared him to Caedecus (so named by the slavers who first discovered his prodigal healing talent and divine favour), who had spent much of the last ten years convinced his liege and dear friend would work himself into an early grave. Caedecus was Ri’s favourite council member for the same reason: no matter how much Davan insisted all of them were his good friends, Caedecus was the only one who seemed to care more about Davan’s physical health than about what he could do for others.

Davan neatly sidetracked that thought by brushing his fingers soothingly over Ri’s back. It was such a nice feeling that it took far longer than it should have to notice Davan was following a pattern. A very clear pattern, now that Ri had noticed it.

Davan’s hand was shaking.

“Azimuth?” Ri questioned, turning slightly so he could see his love. This was likely the sort of conversation he was going to need visual clues to navigate.

Davan ducked down, out of Ri’s line of sight, and pressed a soft kiss to the worst of the raised marks lining his back. He couldn’t help the pleased hum that came from him at that, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely appropriate.

“What happened?” The rumble of his voice was soft in a way that Ri knew was meant to let him know he didn’t have to answer, but this wasn’t a secret. It had never been a secret.

It had been a counterstrike.

“The amount of malice it takes for six grown men to plot the murder of a boy doesn’t just vanish when the target does.” He replied just as softly, though there was steel underlying his words. He knew this would hurt Davan, but also knew he needed to know anyway. “I was… reminded of why it was a poor choice to defy my father.”

Davan sucked in a sharp breath, then gently placed his forehead against Ri’s back in penitence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Ri replied, blunt and calm. “When I said I’d never count the cost, I meant this too. I’d have borne far more than just this momentary pain for your safety, Azimuth. My only regrets are what happened to you, not what happened to me.” He flipped himself over, then grabbed Davan’s startled face in his hands. “This was not your doing. All you did was love me, and I will never allow that to be called a mistake.”

Davan brought his own hand up to cup one of Ri’s, then kissed the palm. “I’m still sorry it happened to you. You deserved more than him.”

Ri smirked up at him. “Everyone deserved more than him. He’s a pathetic waste of time and space who made everyone’s life worse for being in it, and I’m delighted that he’s now facing the decline of his physical prowess, the complete annihilation of his power base, the end of his vaunted lineage, and the fact that he knows I did it to him. That your influence alone was enough to turn his bred and raised perfect lackey into the instrument of his destruction. That your kindness was all it took to turn his attack dog back around to him, and that it was his brutality that destroyed his life in the end.”

Davan smiled down at him, hopelessly fond. “You’re so much more than that, Ri. I’ve always known that.”

“I’m more than that because you rescued me from the cage he was keeping me in.” Ri insisted, knowing it was true. “All of the good in me is simply a reflection of you. Without you, I would be nothing but a weapon.”

Davan shook his head fondly, then grew pensive. “I think you are kinder and more merciful than you believe, but I admit it concerns me that your father and his cronies might make more trouble now that you are not there to oppose them. I know you trust Edith to corral them, but six against one is unfair for anyone.”

Ri blinked at him. “What do you mean, six on one? All I left Edith to contend with was one broken old man, his legacy in ruins and his silver tongue tarnished from the exposure of his evil lies. She is more than a match for him, and even if she wasn’t I have burned too many of his bridges for him to rebuild.”

Now it was Davan’s turn to blink in surprise. “What happened to the rest of them?”

Ri shrugged. “I killed them.”

Sargent Liura strode into the hall, flanked by High Priest Caedecus and Archmage Idala. “This nonsense ends now.” She hissed out, causing Davan’s shoulders to set stubbornly and Derick to turn his big, blue puppy dog eyes her way. This time she had brought reinforcements, as Idala would back Davan even if he were wrong, and Caedecus was Derick’s most vocal supporter in the city. If these two idiots couldn’t get over themselves enough to have a reasonable discussion about this, then Liura would let Idala and Caedecus argue it in proxy. The last time they had let something fester as badly as this was, it had only ended when Derick had nearly died in battle.

No one was dying today, however. Not unless she killed them out of pure frustration.

She gestured around her, and her two chosen seconds moved to flank the men they were there to defend. Derick eyed the High Priest in wary confusion, while Davan smiled easily at one of his closest friends. Liura drew herself up to her full height, demanding all the attention in the room once again. “We are here,” She intoned solemnly, “To sort out the issue that is currently destabilizing the city. The Lord Protector has been distracted and prickly, and his temperament is mirrored by the city as a whole. It needs resolving.”

Derick nodded, his mouth firming with agreement and understanding. It was Davan, of course, who protested. “Liura, really, I am perfectly capable of managing my emotions and my affairs on my own. You don’t need to keep inserting yourself into them.”

It was Caedecus, surprisingly, who spoke up. He was the most mild mannered and easy going of the council, due to his time as a slave making him terrified of even his own authority. “Davan, please. You don’t eat, or sleep, or even train like you usually do. Headaches aren’t unusual for you, but you’ve had one three out of every four days for a fortnight now. The whole city is on edge as ripples of your ill temper and haggard appearance spread to all corners. It’s so clear to us all that you hate arguing with Derick. Please, won’t you let us help?”

Two pairs of beseeching eyes met his, and Davan’s displeasure collapsed like a snow fort in the spring. “Oh, all right. Let’s get this over with.”

Liura turned towards Derick, deciding easily to start with the compliant one. Davan was much more likely to explain his side if he felt like he was rebutting Derick’s explanation than if he was just asked his defence first. She nodded. He shrugged.

“Davan doesn’t like that I murdered five people in cold blood with no trial. No effort was ever made to bring them to justice in a more reasonable manner, and I’m not sorry I did it.” He asserted, blue eyes blazing.

She nodded once, then turned to Davan.

“Ri has admitted to choosing violence as his foremost problem solving technique without a concern for due process, fairness, or consequences. That makes him a dangerous liability, especially when he will not accept that this circumvents all the tenets this city is built on, or promise not to do it again and to allow the law to work as it should.” He rebutted decisively, proving once again that when these two argued this badly it was usually because they were arguing about different things at the same time.

She turned back to Derick, who was now looking just as stubborn as Davan. “Why did you never attempt to solve this through the usual means?”

“They were the source of the corruption in our hometown, and between them held the majority of the power in the town. Besides, I didn’t need a trial to know they were guilty. I heard them plotting to lynch Davan with my own ears. It’s why I falsely accused him of impropriety in the first place.” His voice rang clear, and it was obvious he was proud of his actions, not just accepting of them.

“Ri, that’s exactly the problem.” Davan burst in, frustrated and deeply bothered. “My point is that death should never be the default solution, and that you treat it far too casually.” He reached out to his lover, clearly imploring. “I’ve killed people myself. I know. Every death damages your soul in some way. Sometimes…” He hesitated then, and a dark cloud passed over his own expression. “Sometimes in a way that never heals.”

Derick was up in a heartbeat, crossing the room only to gather the renowned Lord Protector of Exile’s Rest up against his chest like he was comforting a child. It was truly something to see. “I don’t know who you killed that left this mark on your mind, Azimuth, but I am sure they deserved it. I trust your judgement. And as for my own killings… Dear One, I have killed exactly nine people. Most of them I can name, and all of them actively intended to kill you. I do not regret their deaths in the slightest, as killing them made things safer for you. I will not promise to stay my hand if you are in danger, but that has so far been the only thing I have killed for.”

Davan was silent at that, but Liura wanted to dig a little deeper into this. Otherwise it would continue to weigh on her friend’s mind.

“When did you decide to kill the first one? And how did you do it?” She asked, leaning slightly forward in her curiosity.

Derick shrugged. “I didn’t really decide, I just did.” He replied. “I was so very furious with them all for plotting against Davan, and my back was still wrecked, so I snuck out to go down to our hidden spot by the river. Jeremiah followed me, kept trying to feed me the mead he brought, and eventually tried to grope me. I was so disgusted with him I just kicked out his bad knee, grabbed the back of his head, and drowned him. Everyone assumed he got drunk and fell in, even my father. That was when I realized I could get rid of them all in supposed accidents, and the only one that might catch on would be my father. By then, though, I’d already have turned the public opinion tide. It became my purpose in life, as retribution for ever seeking to harm Davan.” He looked down and pulled Davan’s dark head further in, curling about the bigger man in an obviously protective gesture. “I didn’t think he’d ever find out about it, though. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Ri, I…” Davan began, but Liura had heard enough. While Derick might place Davan’s wellbeing too highly, Davan himself most definitely placed it too lowly.

“What if we remove Davan from the question?” She interrupted. Both men turned to look at her.

“It’s a matter of principle, Liura, changing the details doesn’t fix that.”

“Why on earth would we do that?”

They spoke over each other, united in their opinion that the suggestion was a stupid idea.

Liura, however, didn’t care what they thought of her idea. She was going with it anyway. “We remove Davan from the equation. What we’re left with is a traumatized and brutalized adolescent who had saved another youth at great personal cost who was still actively being harmed by the grown adult aggressors. During an attempted rape related to the first attack he defended himself, resulting in the death of the attacker. He then realized that he had the power to prevent them from hurting others, and he used it. Are you really going to stay mad at that child for seeking revenge, Davan? Or at the adult he became for not regretting those deaths? And Derick made a good point as well: His hands are much cleaner than either of ours.”

Davan’s brow creased in contemplation that rapidly shaded to unhappiness as he considered the situation from that point of view. She could almost see the moment he realized he agreed with her.

Derick, on the other hand, immediately and predictably lept to Davan’s defence.. “Don’t you say that about Davan!” He insisted. “His soul is the sort of incandescent that no mortal sin could tarnish. It is definitely brighter than mine.”

“Ri.” Davan whined, burying his face in one hand while the other snuck around to hold his lover close. Liura was sure his ears would be red if she could only see them. “That’s… Entirely incorrect. You have no idea what I’ve done in the years since we were youths. Liura knows that part of me better than you. I’ve killed… many, many more than your nine.”

“You’ve done what you needed to.” Derick insisted, his whole focus back on Davan. “Only what you needed to, with the needs of those around you and the best interests of all involved kept at the forefront of your mind. I know you did, because you could never have done otherwise. Even as a mercenary I know you were never needlessly cruel or gleeful about your skill. You were backed into a corner and did all you could to survive, and to keep those around you alive as well. I need no proof of it, but if you do consider this: Why did you leave the field as soon as you were able? Why found this city? Why fight so hard to give everyone as lost and hurt as you a safe place to heal and grow? When I say mortal sins cannot dull the brilliance of your soul I mean it. This includes the deaths you have dealt.”

“How about we let the Gods worry about their own scales?” Caedecus broke in, beaming at the both of them. “Their ways are not for mortal comprehension, and I feel both of you have no need to worry about that reckoning.” He reached out to lay a gentle hand on Idala’s shoulder, heedless of the sparks the Archmage was throwing out. “Instead, why don’t we head out to the practice field so Idala can let off some of her anger? I would rather not treat anyone for burns if I don’t have to, and now that she’s heard some details about who was targeting Davan when he was young and helpless she’s liable to burn the keep down.”

“An excellent idea.” Liura replied, striding towards the door. “Not you two, though!” She threw back as Davan made a move to stand up. “You stay here and have a moment. I think, after the last few weeks, you need it.”

“Azimuth?” Ri eventually questioned, running his hand through Davan’s hair. Even the echoes of the others had faded long before, but the taller man had made no move to react in any way. “Are you well?”

“I… Don’t like that Idala is upset. She doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.” He replied. Ri sighed, knowing this was going to be an ongoing discussion.

“She’s upset for you because she loves you. Like I do, like Caedecus does, like Liura does, like your whole city does. You’re easy to love, and so, so worth it. Even when it makes us sad or angry.” Ri explained, even though he knew Davan wasn’t ready to accept that truth.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” He insisted, and Ri couldn’t help but drop a sweet kiss on his head.

“I know you don’t, Azimuth, but we will. We gladly will. You deserve to be part of a better world than anything on this mortal plane can offer. We all know that. And we all love you for trying to make the world become that better version. Even if it fails, that vision is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for. You remind us even on the bad days that things can be better, and you leave them that way in your wake just by touching the lives that you do and changing them for the better. I know you don’t see it as enough, but it’s so much more than anyone else can do.” He kissed him again, then tightened his grip. “Just… let us love you. Even if you can’t accept it for your sake, let us love you for ours. Our lives are so much better for it, even when it hurts.”

#my writing #Ri/Davan #third written part #arguing about Ri's violent tendancies

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beloveddawn-blog · 1 year ago

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You Questioned Our Determination

Ri thinks the quality of the people he kills should speak for itself. Davan, unsurprisingly, feels that true justice should be blind, and that one's personal opinion should not factor into life or death decisions. This is, of course, politely ignored, as Ri would rather chew his own arm off than allow Davan to come to harm, due process be damned.

Part 1

Part 2

Cities were not for apathetic dreamers.

Davan’s hand was shaking.

“Azimuth?” Ri questioned, turning slightly so he could see his love. This was likely the sort of conversation he was going to need visual clues to navigate.

“What happened?” The rumble of his voice was soft in a way that Ri knew was meant to let him know he didn’t have to answer, but this wasn’t a secret. It had never been a secret.

It had been a counterstrike.

Davan sucked in a sharp breath, then gently placed his forehead against Ri’s back in penitence. “I’m sorry.”

Davan brought his own hand up to cup one of Ri’s, then kissed the palm. “I’m still sorry it happened to you. You deserved more than him.”

Davan smiled down at him, hopelessly fond. “You’re so much more than that, Ri. I’ve always known that.”

Now it was Davan’s turn to blink in surprise. “What happened to the rest of them?”

Ri shrugged. “I killed them.”

No one was dying today, however. Not unless she killed them out of pure frustration.

Two pairs of beseeching eyes met his, and Davan’s displeasure collapsed like a snow fort in the spring. “Oh, all right. Let’s get this over with.”

She nodded once, then turned to Davan.

She turned back to Derick, who was now looking just as stubborn as Davan. “Why did you never attempt to solve this through the usual means?”

Davan was silent at that, but Liura wanted to dig a little deeper into this. Otherwise it would continue to weigh on her friend’s mind.

“When did you decide to kill the first one? And how did you do it?” She asked, leaning slightly forward in her curiosity.

“Ri, I…” Davan began, but Liura had heard enough. While Derick might place Davan’s wellbeing too highly, Davan himself most definitely placed it too lowly.

“What if we remove Davan from the question?” She interrupted. Both men turned to look at her.

“It’s a matter of principle, Liura, changing the details doesn’t fix that.”

“Why on earth would we do that?”

They spoke over each other, united in their opinion that the suggestion was a stupid idea.

Davan’s brow creased in contemplation that rapidly shaded to unhappiness as he considered the situation from that point of view. She could almost see the moment he realized he agreed with her.

“I… Don’t like that Idala is upset. She doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.” He replied. Ri sighed, knowing this was going to be an ongoing discussion.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” He insisted, and Ri couldn’t help but drop a sweet kiss on his head.

#my writing #Ri and Davan #Only One I'll Follow

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spacenutspod · 2 years ago

Link

In 2017, astronomers detected gravitational waves from colliding neutron stars for the first time: a kilonova. Enormous amounts of heavy metals were detected in the light from the explosion, and astronomers continued to watch the expanding debris cloud. Researchers have continued to study this event. Now, using a three-dimensional computer simulation, they have created a new recreation of this merger — second by second, as it happened — giving insights into all the high-energy mayhem and heavy elements formation in this catastrophic event. This artist’s impression shows two tiny but very dense neutron stars at the point at which they merge and explode as a kilonova. Such a very rare event is expected to produce both gravitational waves and a short gamma-ray burst, both of which were observed on 17 August 2017. Subsequent detailed observations with many telescopes confirmed that this object, seen in the galaxy NGC 4993 about 130 million light-years from the Earth, is indeed a kilonova. Such objects are the main source of very heavy chemical elements, such as gold and platinum, in the Universe. “The unprecedented agreement between our simulations and the observation of kilonova AT2017gfo [also known as GW170817] indicates that we understand broadly what has taken place in the explosion and aftermath,” said Luke J. Shingles, scientist at GSI Helmholtz Centre for Heavy Ion Research and the Facility for Antiproton and Ion Research (GSI/FAIR) in Germany. Shingles is the lead author of a new paper in published in Astrophysical Journal Letters. Neutron stars are the crushed, leftover cores of massive stars that long ago exploded as supernovas. The merging stars likely had masses between 10 and 60 percent greater than that of our Sun, but they were no wider than an average-sized city. The pair whirled around each other hundreds of times a second. As they drew closer and orbited faster, the stars eventually broke apart and merged, producing both a gamma-ray burst and a rarely seen explosion called a kilonova. This event was observed on August 17, 2017 by the LIGO–Virgo gravitational wave facilities. Several telescopes watched the aftermath of this event including the space telescopes Swift, Hubble, Chandra and Spitzer missions, along with dozens of ground-based observatories. The Pan-STARRS survey was able to capture the fading glow of the blast’s expanding debris. At a press briefing shortly after the detection of this event — observed both in graviational waves and light — researcher Edo Berger, from the Harvard Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics said, “These observations reveal the direct fingerprints of the heaviest elements in the periodic table. “The collision of the two neutron stars produced 10 times of mass of Earth in gold and platinum alone. Think about how as these materials are flying out of this event, they eventually combine with other elements to form stars, planets, life … and jewelry.” The data from all the observatories now have allowed the researchers to produce, for the first time, a three-dimensional simulation that recreates the neutron-star merger and the subsequent radiative transfer with tens of millions of atomic transitions of heavy elements. A three-D morphology of a kilonova. Mollweide projections of direction-dependent quantities for 3D AD2 UVOIR packets arriving at the observer between 1.3 and 1.7 days: radiant intensity times 4? solid angle (top), mean temperature at last interaction (middle), and line-of-sight velocity at last interaction (bottom). For these figures, we use 32 × 32 direction bins, uniformly spaced in azimuthal angle (horizontal) and cosine of the polar angle (vertical) to give the same solid angle in each bin. Credit: Luke Shingles et al, 2023. The researchers said that with a 3D model, the observed light can be predicted for any viewing direction. For example, when viewed nearly perpendicular to the orbital plane of the two neutron stars (as observational evidence indicates for the kilonova AT2017gfo) the model predicts a sequence of spectral distributions that look remarkably like the observations for AT2017gfo. “Research in this area will help us to understand the origins of elements heavier than iron (such as platinum and gold) that were mainly produced by the rapid neutron capture process in neutron star mergers,” said Shingles in a GSI/FAIR press release. In their paper, the team said about half of the elements heavier than iron are produced during an event like a kilonova, within the environment of extreme temperatures and neutron densities. The explosion ejects matter with just the right conditions to “produce unstable neutron-rich heavy nuclei by a sequence of neutron captures and beta-decays. These nuclei decay to stability, liberating energy that powers an explosive ‘kilonova’ transient, a bright emission of light that rapidly fades in about a week.” The researchers said their 3D simulation combines several areas of physics, including the behavior of matter at high densities, the properties of unstable heavy nuclei, and atom-light interactions of heavy elements. With further research, they hope to increase the precision with which they can predict and understand features in the spectra, which will further our understanding of the conditions in which heavy elements are synthesized. The post A Kilonova Simulated in 3D appeared first on Universe Today.

#space #astronomy #news #science

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starzec · 7 years ago

Photo

My Becva Interiors zine is among other photobooks/zines shortlisted for Polish Photo Publication of The Year award, together with three other zines co-published with our small collective Azimuth Press – Krzysiek Sienkiewicz “The Pistol”, Piotrek Bekas “Tuja” and Jan Rogalo “The Pros and Cons of Daily Commute When Living in Bejing, China”. Rad!

#becva #itf #zine #zinemaking #zinelife #diy #azimuth press #horni becva #kahan #czech republic #czech design #documentary #mamiya #artzine #doityourself

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lunaevangeline · 3 years ago

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Saturn

written for my dear Ale ❤️ @oikawas-milk-bread (event!)

warning: dad!Oikawa, suggestive ending (?)

Once, I was doing a public outreach activity at my local observatory and I told a little boy that Saturn has a ring. He asked innocently, "Did Saturn get married?" and I smiled at his words.

"Can you see it?" Oikawa asked.

A pair of small eyes attempt to close into half, peeking through the eyepiece of a white-bodied telescope. He tries to catch the light, dilating and constricting his pupil.

He looks frustrated, his hands are going to try to reach the telescope body in an attempt to make adjustments. But a bigger hand stops him.

"Don't touch, dear. We might lose it if you move the telescope within a few arcseconds."

Now the boy struggles, trying to put still his little hands on the side of his figure. After several moments, he sighs and looks up at the man.

"Daddy, it's all dark!" The little boy pout, looking at the exact same brown orbs in the darkness.

Oikawa's eyebrows furrow, he thought he had already adjusted the telescope perfectly to put the Jovian planet in the center of its field of view. He moves to the boy's side, bending down and looking through the same opening. He found nothing.

"Oh, it's already moved!"

Oikawa looks through the telescope finder, targeting the planet at the center. Then, he moves again to the eyepiece, reaching for the altitude and azimuth fine adjustment. He set the telescope to point slightly to the west. After some very careful arrangements, he asked the boy to take another look.

"Now it's supposed to be there," he said.

The boy excitedly comes to look through the telescope, hands unconsciously about to reach for a grip but abruptly stops from remembering his dad's words.

"Whooaa," he gasps.

"It looks like a ball with a ring??" His eyes gleamed with excitement.

Tooru can't help but look at him fondly, smiling at his adorable little boy.

"Yes, dear. Saturn is a planet with a ring structure around it."

"Does it mean Saturn married like mommy and daddy?" He asked with a completely innocent face.

Oikawa chuckles, he takes a look at his finger ring finger. It's crowned by a modest silver ring, with your name engraved on the inside, felt cold from the outdoor temperature. He smiles like a teenage boy at the fact that he married you.

Then, he reaches for his five year old, picking him up to the level of his gaze. Rather than answering the question, he asks back, "If so, how about our Earth that has no ring?"

The boy takes a moment of silence and then he looks sad from his own idea.

"He must be lonely and sad."

Tooru pokes his boy's nose with his pointed finger playfully, the nose tip is quite red from the coldness.

"So do I without your mom."

The boy blinks. You, whose presence went unnoticed, hummed,

"Teaching our five year old a pick-up line again, Tooru?"

You fold your arms on your chest, perking your eyebrow at your husband's behavior.

"I'm not, love. I'm just telling the truth," he whines.

You pretend to roll your eye, now who's looking like a five year old. Moving closer to him, you cradle your boy from your husband's.

"Dear, not like humans, planets don't marry. But he is not alone, he has moons and other celestial objects as a whole family."

You smiled, warm lips meeting his cold forehead. The boy gleam in your warmth, feeling reassured.

"Then how did he get the ring?" Your boy is still filled with curiosity.

"It made from the pieces of comets, asteroids, or shattered moons that broke up, attracted by Saturn's gravity," you answered.

"And it's actually not made of metal like our wedding ring, it's chunks of ice and rock," your husband added, getting confirmation of understanding from the boy.

"Uh, it must be cold. Can we give him a jacket?" The boy asks sympathetically.

You chuckle at his loveliness, ruffling his soft locks. "You are a good boy, aren't you? But don't worry, he doesn't feel cold."

"Now you should worry about yourself. You're cold, honey." You press his cheek against yours and put him down, handling his little palm.

"I have prepared a hot chocolate for us!"

"In my alien mug?" he asks hopefully.

"Yes in your alien mug. Let's warm ourselves." You lead the boy to the house.

"Hey, I'm also cold here!" Oikawa follows you, hugging your free arm.

You snort, no wonder he's cold in only a piece of a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

"Wear your jacket, you're a grown-up," you scold.

"Won't you warm me?" he pleads.

"Yeah, we can cuddle together."

"I mean later," he whispered to your ear, with a low and alluring tone. You know exactly what he means - your cheeks feel warmer despite the piercing cold wind.

You smiled. "Okay, later."

masterlist

taglist: @sabyss @ohtobiors @passionateuchiha @miya-dynasty @crystal-lilac @hyeque @pklm10

#hi ale!!#I hope you enjoy this <3 ily #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #hq oikawa #oikawa scenarios #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff

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winportables · 3 years ago

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Portable Rozeta is a program that draws rosette diagrams. A rosette plot is a circular histogram that shows the distribution of linear elements in a plane. It can be, for example, the distribution of transport directions in a sedimentation basin, slopes of fracture planes, fault fractures, directions of current blades, winds, etc. These types of diagrams are often used in structural geology, geography, and other sciences. How to work with Portable Rozeta: Measurement A series of angular measurements in degrees must be given as input. The Measurements window is used to enter data. To view them, select the menu File-> Edit Measurements… or press the F4 key. Measurement values must be integers or real (floating point) numbers. The decimal separator can be. (dot) or, (comma). A measurement should be given on a line. Blank lines and lines with invalid values are ignored. If you have measurements in gons or radians, you can convert them to degrees using the built-in angle measurement converter (F6 key). draw a diagram First, the program creates numeric (angular) intervals of the size specified in the Class Size drop-down list (default 36 intervals of 10 degrees). Each of the previously entered measurements is assigned to an appropriate angular interval. All compartments (except the first) open to the left and close to the right (by default, the value of 10 ° will be included in the first interval, the value of 11 ° – in the second). 0° belongs to the first range, 360° to the last range. The radius of the plot represents the number of measurements in the interval(s) with the largest number of measurements. Depending on the selected diagram type, the drawing method is as follows: “Classic” rose window (circular sections)For each angular interval with a number of measures greater than 0, a circular segment of length proportional to the previously determined radius and the number of measures in that interval is drawn.PolygonFor each angular interval with the number of measurements greater than 0, a point is marked in the middle of this interval (for example, 15° for the 10°-20° interval) at a distance proportional to the radius previously determined and the number of measurements in a given interval. If the interval contains no measurements, the zero point is marked. After all the points are determined, they are connected with straight lines to form a polygon. Types of diagrams according to the type of measures -Azimuth diagrams Measurements must be between 0 and 360 degrees, and in the Measurement Type list, select Unidirectional – Azimuths (0°-360°). Measurement values beyond the range 0..360 will be ignored. -Gear Diagrams Half circle or full circle diagram with center symmetry turned on. In this case, only the course of the elements matters. Enter values from 0 to 180 degrees and select Bidirectional – Gears (0°-180°) in the Measurement Type list. If in the series of measurements there are values outside the numerical range 0..180, the program can ignore such values or "normalize" to 180, that is, add or subtract the value 180 from a given measurement as many times, to obtain a value in the range 0..180 (for example, the measurement 230 would be interpreted as 230 – 180, or 50). By default, a semicircle diagram (A) is drawn. However, for a better readability of the diagram, you can activate the central symmetry (B), then each segment of the diagram will also be drawn in the opposite quadrant. Center symmetry is only used when drawing the diagram, measurement values and statistics will not be changed. XP/Vista/7/8/8.1/10English4.37MB 

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chromolume · 3 years ago

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i think after succession the girls should get into guernica

Open the vent! We begin a 26m rapid submarine descent The radar has located a target Turn right, azimuth 48°, distance 860m, speed 4 knots Preparing for torpedo warfare, ready to fire Steady, steady as she goes...

Through the periscope I see the reflection of a gentle sea Our mission: to expand a naval operation To escape the sonar’s sonic net; Fresh oxygen from our snorkels Bobs the starfish up and down with bubbles

We, oh we, are the wolves of the sea We are sharks of steel The screw turns and the pump spurts Piston Up, down Piston Up, down

There — off the coast, I see a fleet! Indeed, it’s an enemy transport fleet! No, correction! It is an allied torpedo squadron Ready the troops — oh signaller, send off a telegram with haste!

The sweep of the tide will carry us to the motherland With my water pressure gauge pinned to my chest I press down the switch that fires off the missiles

We, oh we, are the wolves of the sea We are mermaids made of steel The screw turns and the pump spurts Piston Up, down Piston Up, down

bento ake, kyuusoku senkou, shindo nijyuu meetoru reedaa ga mokuhyou wo hakken shimashita! houikaku migi yonjyuuhachi do kyori happyaku rokujyuu meetoru tekisoku shi notto! gyoraisen youi, hassha jyunbi kanryou! yousoro, yousoro...!

senboukyou ni utsuru shizuka na umi tokushu ninmu, sakusen no tenkai sonaa kara no onpa no ami nogare shunookeru no sanso ha shinsen de abuku no naka no hitode ga ukishizumi

warera umi no ookami, koutestu no same sukuryuu wa mawaru, ponpu wa ugoku pisuton Up Down pisuton Up Down

ano okiai ni mieru sendan dessu! oou, are wa teki-yuusou sendan da! iya, chigau zo, are wa mikata no suirai sentai dessu!! hijyoucoshuu tsuushin-hei, sugu ni denbuk wo uke!!

shio no nagare sokoku ni tsuuzuru mune ni sasaru suiatsuke no hari gyorai hassen de oshitsudukeru suicchi warera umi no ookami, koutetsu no ningyo skuryuu ha mawaru, ponpu wa ugoku pisuton Up Down pisuton Up Down

#guernica #ゲルニカ #Koji Ueno #上野小路 #Jun Togawa #戸川純

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livexlaughxlombax · 4 years ago

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It would be amazing if Kaden was the calm one (who did do occasional crazy stuff with Azimuth like mentioned) and Ratchet’s mom was the childish and crazy one.

“Honey, what are you doing…”

-while “upgrading” the family ship to lob stale baguettes at citizens when accelerator is pressed- “Stuff.”

#ratchet and clank

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benjimirthursby · 4 years ago

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The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor. “Catch and Release.”

“Maelstrom had obligations to the Alliance and Grand Companies. Such were taxing its means to support the stifling presence Commodore T’Subaki had established against the Confederacy. Indeed, the slowly escalating conflicts ashore were forcing the Company fleet to stretch thinner and revert to tactics more prevalent in our first years. The risks were not what we remembered." - Katryn Vaunter, Personal Log.

The Scion Air Ships (SAS) Fairstar, Fairwind, Fairsea and Andustar (ex-Fairsky) comprised the four Saxton class airships in Company service. Andustar, Fairstar and Fairwind were escorting a long mixed convoy of surface and air ships toward Kugane. Ex-baggers, over several refits by the Company, the Saxtons had forsaken their lifting “air bags.” Replacing them were greatly enhanced Garlean style Corulium wheels amidships and lift plate along her conventional waterline. The class retained the masts support lines which added a grace while underway and utility in close action. But their profiles allowed them to pass for merchant vessels at a distance. Aesthetically the Saxtons resembled fat paddlewheel passenger boats in some respects. Only with gun casemates studding the sides rather than the passenger verandas.

The assorted gun mounts housed a mix of new and somewhat antiquated mid-caliber naval guns. Her main deck offered swivel guns and arms intended for boarding and repelling of boarders. Comfortable, well equipped and immaculately kept, the Saxton class were antique improvised compromises all the same. Leadership, tactics and the skill of crews made them into effective warships and Commodore T’Subaki had been at the root of that.

“Continuous bearing, decreasing range, time to track inception five minutes.” the ensign at the plot table said aboard Andustar. Her captain, Katryn Vaunter and Commodore Aubreen T'Subaki listened. "Azimuthal quad screw, wheels, no bags. Two gun decks." Vaunter reported as she used her hand scopes to view the contact.

Open piracy had not known a more miserable time at sea. Able to check the Confederacy and pirates on the open ocean for years, such had not prevented the would-be toll keepers and pirate lords from convincing privateers to challenge them. This was the third such challenge of the journey.

"Designate Privateer One." Vaunter ordered.

T'Subaki glanced over the plot table. "I have him captain."

"Commodore has the con." Vaunter said in turn.

"Signal Fairwind to proceed 15 points to port and advance to emergency ahead. Then bring us to a direct course abeam." T'Subaki ordered, peering at the makeshift commerce raider hardly more than a small dark silhouette.

Andustar and Fairwind turned from their positions within the convoy. Free trade was not the wish of the ruling men of Hingashi, but it was powerless to enforce tribute or escorted vessels from making port in Kugane. The Confederacy had presented a barrier to most trade until Maelstrom pressed independent pirates into compliance with it and the Thursby Company Fleet pushed the rest aside.

"Pennant flying." Captain Vaunter said over her shoulder to the commodore whose attention was now on the opposite side of the convoy. "Aye, Sunrise and sword on a purple background. I saw it." T'Subaki said.

"Plot, report all contacts." T'Subaki ordered, her gaze to the distance unbroken. The ensign glanced at his chart. "My only contacts are convoy and Privateer One." he replied, looking up and seeing the direction of the commodore's attention. As he did the sound phone buzzed. He picked the handset up and answered. "Plot.......right then" replacing the headset on its hook. He began to update his chart and announced "Con, new contact, starboard bow, unknown vessel type, range 18 kilometers. Bearing and speed undetermined." the ensign reported. "Con aye. Designate Ghost One. Mister Vaunter the con is yours, Take us in." T'Subaki acknowledged.

"Those eyes." Vaunter thought to herself as she snapped her hand scope toward a small dot just above the line of the horizon. "Signal Fairstar to increase angels to fifteen hundred and maintain speed. Helm, advance to flank. Signals, send all ships to stand to quarters. XO, rig for boarding action." Vaunter ordered in a flurry that sent still more orders along their chains of command and duty. The increased altitude would make it clear to the new contact that the convoy was escorted if the new contact was hostile. The Andustar and Fairwind would still be obscured from it. But the privateer would know also. All the more reason to close the shrinking distance with it quickly.

The Andustar rumbled as her corilum powered furnaces surged and the power shunted to her thrusters. As her speed increated the inverted, or ramming bow created pressure which depressed it. Small thrusters in the bow and increased power to the Garlean designed lift wheels evened its pitch.

The Fairwind made her best speed away from the convoy. As Andustar closed within a kilometer T'Subaki retook the con.

"Signal Fairwind to begin her run and pull the hook in. Plot report changes, contact Ghost One?" T'Subaki asked.

The ensign replied, sound surprised, "Unchanged, holding at original position, now ten kilometers off starboard bow."

T'Subaki nodded and leered at the dark shape in the distance. The faint look of misgiving did not escape Vaunters attention.

"Trouble?" she asked. T'Subaki shook her head and turned toward the contact abeam.

"No, the Garleans are not disposed to raid commerce." she said.

Vaunter whose look of concern was followed by a quick look with her scopes.

"Garlean?"

"Yes, oversized, incoherent design. Gaudy, gilded details like a flying house of ill repute. " T'Subaki said with a tone of derision.

"But lets be about the business at hand."

The matter of contact Ghost One was subordinated to after action discussion. The women both turned to the plot table. Seeing Fairwinds position, T'Subaki raised her voice.

"Signals, send Privateer One, issue hostile challenge and order them to stand away from the convoy or it will be fired upon. Helm, reduce speed to ahead dead slow, come to starboard and present port broadside. All mounts to global control. And raise my colors. Execute." T'Subaki ordered.

Twice already this cruise from Limsa to Kugane, a motley assortment of vessels, some bearing no weapon more threatening than the smell below decks had challenged the convoy. As before T'Subaki deployed her ships to ensure their lack of speed and numbers did not allow for their escape.

"Action on the decks." Vaunter observed as the privateer waivered in her course as its crew scurried about. "They are preparing to fight." she added. T'Subaki nodded and shook her head.

"Their effort would be flattering were it not so ill advised and the methods amateur." T'Subaki said. It was not the futility of this would be raider but the unseen parties that must be driving them to try. Consulting the plot, she nodded again. "Signal Fairwind to engage. Then signal Privateer One to strike colors and prepare to be boarded."

As in the previous two encounters Fairwinds course formed a hook shape on the plot chart. Like a fisher the company escort would effectively catch and release the raider after a short fight, boarding and dropping ordinance over the side.

"Fairwind engaging." Vaunter said as from the ships forward most casemates flashes and delayed cracks announced a warning volley over the privateers bow. "Response from Privateer One?" T'Subaki asked.

"Negative, only latent coms noise on the link." the signals bosun replied. T'Subaki furled a brow. "The new link pearls or upwell set?" she asked.

The bosun shook his head. "New."

"Very well, log the issue after action. Signal, clear Fairwind to engage hostile, route ship-to-ship channel to the plot handset, link two." T'Subaki said. Vaunter spared a look. "Not worried we might miss a reply?" she asked. T'Subaki shook her head.

Aboard the privateer the scattered efforts of its crew finally produced a deck of loaded cannons. Either a fire order or fearful gun captain led to one firing, which led then immediately to the decks entire division to discharge. The rounds largely failed to strike save a few shells which burst against the improvised armor plates. These plates were used for protection and emergency ballast aboard the Saxton class.

"Not worried at all. The new links have not failed yet, if the quality leaves much to be desired." she T’Subaki told Vaunter as the vibration from the ad hoc barrage calmed. "Helm, ahead full." She ordered.

Picking up the handset at the plot table T'Subaki flipped a switch, "Control, Con, current track, Kill Gun, all mounts. Commence firing, fire continuous." T'Subaki flipped the channel selector to the next setting which connected it to the ship-to-ship Linkpearl box at the signals station. "Fairwind, Flag, weapons free, nav free, mind our solution and prevent Privateer One from egressing the engagement."

Within a moment, the full port side armement of Andustar fired. As quickly as each could reload the guns fired again. The vibration and noise merged into the engines surging to their full power thrusting the ship forward. Fairwind turned hard to starboard and released her own broadside.

Fairwind and Andustar circled the ship slowly. Their combined fire ripped through the air and into the privateer relentlessly. The engagement that followed was as lopsided as the contrast in combatants. In a matter of minutes the return fire had ceased, deck fires were prevalent and the ships propulsion and lift screws were destroyed.

Falling from the sky, the burning hulk shed crew into the water before drawling too much water the capsizing. Fairwind held station to recover survivors before rejoining the convoy. Andustar sprinted to resume her place near the front of the flock it escorted.

The convoy itself never stopped moving nor changed course. Fairstar resumed her cruising altitude and position within the convoy. Kugane was now a half days sail. "Fairsea, Orrostar and Cutlass put to sea this morning with the convoy to Limsa. Watch Tondera was advised of the downing and the Garlean contact. All ships are proceeding as before" Vaunter summed the watch notes in the officer galley.

The freshly offwatch officers were celebrating around them. No prize to be had, the privateer was not captured. All the same, after confronting and subduing two earlier assailants there was satisfaction in sounding hammering the third.

"Whatever the new Garlean ship was it never moved until the convoy passed. Then it drew east bearing toward Limsa." Vaunter added. T'Subaki sipped at her glass of a wine from Ul'Dah. And thoughtfully looked at her friend, lover and protégé. "In your written after action report, note the performance issues with the Linkpearl gear." She said, catching Vaunters eyes long gaze for a deliberately long moment before a mutual knowing laugh broke punctuated the moment. "Early morning dear, convoy putting into port. Shall we retire?" T'Subaki asked rising from her seat beside Vaunter.

"Very well. We can….debrief more then I hope." Vaunter said with a smirk tucking and arm about T'Subaki's waist as they walk to the exit.

*******

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kellbellsparkles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 11 of my Ratchet and Clank fanfic "Family"

Ratchet learns more about his father from his mother. Meanwhile, Talwyn undertakes a task to procure the means to find out why Aphelion is signaling for help.

Click clink.

Ratchet wound the handle of a custom made green cubicle action figure he fashioned. He let go and off it went across the floor. Edith watched with eyes of a child wandering into a toy store for the first time and clapped her hands.

"That was the very first invention I ever made," Ratchet said. "I think I was three."

"You remembered and you were able to make that all by yourself," Edith said with wonder and aw in her eyes.

Ratchet's creation soon stopped in place. Ratchet picked it up and traced his fingers along the design.

"Was it normal for Lombaxes to build things so young?" he asked.

"The most common age for children to start playing with actual machinery was five to six years old," Edith replied. "You were an early bloomer."

"Was Dad, too?"

"He was, but--" Edith cut herself off with a bout of giggles. "Oh dear. He figured out how to make his own pipe bomb after memorizing the code for his family's garage."

"Wha--huh??" Ratchet shouted, exasperated. "Explosives??"

"Kaden was building his reputation for "really" thinking outside the box. He wanted his central command and warring factions to feel "authentic". His older brother, your Uncle Mace, took notice first and raced to take away the bomb, but it went off in his hand before he could throw it away. He lost all of his fingers."

Ratchet's jaw hung open. His head reeled from the new information about his father and their species as a whole. His chest rose as his heart eagerly pounded away.

"Were kids always that dangerous?" he asked in disbelief.

"They were always supervised and mandatory inventing safety was taught in schools," Edith said. "The government poured much of its resources into playgrounds and logic based toys to keep them stimulated. That didn't stop your father from getting into trouble though. He built his very first space ship when he was eight."

Ratchet removed his cap once more and fanned himself to remain grounded from the surge of overwhelming joy and giddiness.

"Holy crap," he uttered.

"He was headstrong, confident, and unwavering," Edith said warmly. "He inspired me to want to leave my comfort zone."

"So how did you two meet?"

"Well, I had already known of him, but he was going places and just starting out as a Pint Magistrate of the Praetorian Guard. I thought it'd be impossible to get his attention, but I knew if I didn't do something, then I would never have another chance. I decided to enter the annual Sterling Heralding Inspiring Talent Showcase as a singer. There was just one problem: how would I know if Kaden actually watched the program? So, I did what I thought was the most reasonable thing; I asked his best friend."

Ratchet's ears perked at the last two words. He gritted his teeth as Edith continued her story, knowing exactly who she was referring to.

"Would you believe my luck that he was right there as I was realizing my predicament?" Edith went on. "Now, this was Alister Azimuth. His family was famous for being the overseers of the planetary defenses and scientific research, and that very same man was the key to your father. I asked him to tell Kaden to please tune in to the talent showcase that night."

"And he did."

"I didn't make it past the first round, but Kaden found where I lived and said that I deserved better, that no one put as much heart and soul into their act as I did. He brought me the biggest bouquet of flowers I had ever seen gifted to anyone."

"Talk about making a first impression."

"We just took off from there."

Edith swayed back and forth with a lovestruck smile. Her heart tickled and fluttered while remembering Kaden's heroic charisma and the admiration he had when they held hands and stared into each other's eyes. She couldn't wait to share those feelings with their son. In the background sat Ratchet's chest strap that served as a portable link between him and Aphelion. It laid on the muffling surface of the bed, thus its vibrating fell on deaf ears.

A fair distance away, Talwyn had reached the bustling vullard settlement. The citizens carried supplies and scraps in the carry-on compartment on their backs and traded with one another. She caught glimpse of a seemingly working space craft in the nearest shop. She hurriedly trotted over.

"Excuse me," she called out to the shopkeep. "Is it possible that I can borrow your ship for a reasonable price? It's an emergency."

The shopkeep stood and pondered for a moment, scratching his chin.

"I don't see why not," he said. "As for payment, I'd like for you to collect something for me."

Talwyn rolled her eyes; there was always a classic catch for needing something.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"I am in need of Torrencian Crystals to craft my night light products, see? My good friend, Brom, normally helps me, but he's taking time for a personal family project, whatever that means, unless he considers every single one of us his family."

"Where can I find them?"

"They're in the deepest reaches of the cavern they call Hulsk's Mouth. You can't miss it. It's the one with teethy rock formations."

"How far is it from here?"

"Just head north for twelve miles then make a thirty-seven degree turn east and keep going until you see the trademark landmark."

Talwyn looked over the rocky horizon with looming dread. Aphelion's distress signal made her feel pressed for time. She checked the gauge of her hover boots by clicking her heels together. To her dismay, they let out a weak puff of smoke, signaling they won't be of any use much longer.

"Is there any down-payment for a mode of transportation?" she inquired.

"I have the most effective means of transport on the house," the shopkeep replied. He reached under his stand and pulled out a coily, dusty pogo stick.

"Tadaa!" he chimed.

Talwyn stared at the device, dumbfounded and in disbelief.

"A pogo stick?" she said. "How is that supposed to help me?"

"It's not JUST a pogo stick," the shopkeep stated. "It's the Bouncer Extraordinare Exclamation Point, thus giving it the singing abbreviation of BEEP. It's got more spring in its hop than a first-timer like yourself makes a judgment on. Its balance will make navigating the ruggedy terrain safe and its bounce will provide the fun."

"This sounds like something Ratchet would come up with," Talwyn remarked. She took a hold of the BEEP. "Alright. I'm game."

Suddenly, a flap of fabric slapped the wind. A tall, goofy looking robot dawned a crimson cape, standing heroically with his hands on his sides.

"I have traveled far and wide on a daunting, daring quest to save my dear friend!" he proclaimed.

"Oh boy!" the shopkeep squealed, running to take hold of the cape. "I was looking for that!"

He yanked it off the robot, making him twist and twirl in a rapid fashion. He straightened out the fabric and hung it to reveal his shop shine: Chisel's Night Lights.

The visitor was revealed to be Sigmund. The Zoni watched as Sigmund held his head in place to collect himself, his eyes circling from being dizzy.

"Wait," Talwyn said as she furrowed her brows, registering his appearance. "I think I heard about you from Ratchet and Clank."

"Ratchet and Clank!" Sigmund blurted out. "Yes, that's me! I mean-- no, I'm not! I'm Sigmund!" He let out a frustrated wail. He bowed his head and hobbled towards Talwyn.

"I'd formally introduce myself as senior caretaker of the Great Clock," he said. "But if you're friends with Ratchet and Clank, we have no time to lose. Clank is in unspeakable fathoms of danger."

"That's what I feared," Talwyn fretted. "We need to get Torrencian Crystals so this guy here can give us his ship for us to get to Aphelion."

The shopkeep, Chisel, tossed Sigmund a spare BEEP.

"What's this now?" Sigmund said, stunned and flabbergasted.

"Just follow my lead," Talwyn said bluntly as she fastened herself onto her BEEP.

"I feel this a tedious chore quest that takes away from the dire and urgent main quest!" Sigmund bellowed in great annoyance. "Plus I don't have feet! How am I supposed to work this BEEP thing?"

"That one's an automatic bouncer for the feetless or otherwise crippled," Chisel explained.

"That is so weirdly convenient and I don't have time to ask how you're oddly prepared for our situati-OOOOOOON!"

His hand slipped onto the button that turns on the BEEP. It launched him at least ten feet off the ground then forward double the amount. Talwyn followed suit after him, holding her breath at the sudden ascension and flight of the bounce. The Zoni looked on as they hopped away.

"Go on without me, dear Zoni!" Sigmund's cries echoed from a distance. "Carry on my legacy!!"

The Zoni looked to each other. They held hands and continued through the settlement towards their destination.

#ratchetandclankriftapart #ratchetandclank

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ameth18blog · 4 years ago

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Unexpected Encounters. Chapter 8: The Search (Part 1)

A new day has begun in Japan. The inhabitants of Zootopia, Japan and Mobius were once again meeting in the same apartment today.

"Well, we have already decided how the groups are separated, as Retsuko, Fenneko, Haida, Ookami, Washimi and Gori are from this city, each of you will divide into group of two, and you will be accompanied by Nick, Judy and Finnick" Sonic said.

"Why should we be accompanied by them, can I do things alone?" Finnick said.

"Come on Finnick, you've never been to this country, much less outside of Zootopia," Nick said.

"Yeah, but I can work alone, that's no problem for me, so we could cover more ground that way," Finnick said.

"Are you sure?" Tails asked.

"Yes. 100 percent," Finnick replied.

"Well OK. That could be beneficial to us," Knuckles said.

"Well, to start: Nick, Haida and Ookami will go to the north of the city" said Sonic.

"Judy, Retsuko and Fenneko will go south," Amy said.

"Washimi and Gori will go east" said Cosmo.

"And finally Finnick will go west," Tikal said.

"While that happens, Jack will stay with us while we try to find out more about the whereabouts of the master emeralds and the missing chaos emeralds" said Tails

"While you children will be in the care of our children so that they are safe from any danger, so they will not have to worry about them" said Sonic.

They all nodded their heads.

"By the way, before you go have this" Tails held up a tray that had a large number of clocks on them.

"What are they?" Ookami asked.

"They are communicators. I created them so they can communicate with us, I made them look like watches so they go unnoticed. We have ours too," Tails replied.

Sonic, Amy, Tails, Cosmo, Knuckles, Tikal, Speed, Flora, Alex, Locke II and Pachacamac II raised their arms to reveal their wrists where their own communicators were.

The people of Zootopia and Japan had their own communicators and put them on, including the children.

"Okay. These communicators have both the option of speaking and the option of danger. When you need to communicate with someone, press the button on the right and then mention on behalf of who you want to speak to. Pressing the button on the left will send us a signal to warn us if there are problems with Eggman or some of the robots, so we will come to your aid. If another type of problem occurs that does not involve Eggman still call us to help with anything." Tails told them explaining the functionality of the communicators.

"That's it?" Fenneko asked.

"Almost. We discovered that the beings who were brought to this universe or to this city because of chaos control ended up absorbing into their bodies some of the chaos energy, which is inactive within them, but these communicators can capture that energy when they are close to you" said Tails.

"Well that will make things easier" said Gori.

"Well, with this, all you need to know is ready. Meet us again here at 4:00 PM," Knuckles said.

They all nodded and left.

…

Retsuko, Fenneko and Judy were in the south of the city, they had just got off the subway and was walking random streets trying to find whoever they had to find. Easier said than done, though, since they didn't even know who to look for in the first place. While looking they decided to have a conversation. Judy took advantage and told Retsuko and Fenneko how she met Nick and Finnick and the first big mission that she solved with Nick's help.

"I see that you experienced a dangerous situation" said Fenneko.

"It was, these days I miss solving cases like that. But with two children at home I cannot expose myself to so many dangers. Although it was not the only case that I solved of that magnitude "said Judy.

"Was there another?" Retsuko asked.

"Yes, when Nick and I were already working together in the police station, the chief entrusted us that we had to work together with Jack who had assigned a mission in which would have to work with the Zootopia police department to catch a criminal who was hidden in the city. At first Jack was quite distant with us, and he didn't talk to us unless it was something to do with the mission. After we asked Finnick to help him work as an undercover agent and find information on the criminal. When he found out and fled the city, the four of us went after him. When we cornered him, there was an exchange of gunfire where Jack was wounded. Nick and I got him out of the place while Finnick for his part managed to take care of the criminal" Judy replied.

"Wow, I guess that was a critical moment for everyone," Retsuko said.

"And how did Jack recover and become closer to you?" Asked Fenneko.

"While Jack recovered he explained to us that the reason he was distant with us was because in the past he carried out various missions with other companions with whom he became good friends, but he was always unlucky that each time that one died in the line of duty, Jack blamed himself for it. That was why he promised himself not to have friends and only to have professional relationships. After learning about it, we convinced him that it was not good to be alone, and that if his companions were here they would be disappointed in the lonely lifestyle that he decided to take. Jack fell silent and let several tears escape from his eyes. Nick, Finnick, and I could tell from his expression that it was the first time he'd cried in years. I gave him a hug to comfort him, he reciprocated it and it was clear that he really needed comfort at that time. After that event, Jack decided to return to live in Zootopia, since until that moment he lived in the agency. And he became a close friend of the three of us," Judy replied.

"At least everything ended well in the end," Retsuko said.

Suddenly the conversation was interrupted when their communicators began to blink, they looked to see that they were not calls or signals from Eggman. Which means that they are close to those who are searching. But as the place was packed with various city dwellers it would be difficult to locate them.

They were so distracted watching the communicator that they ended up accidentally crashing with two beings that were walking in the opposite direction. All three fell to the ground.

"You are fine," said a male voice.

"If we're okay" Retsuko replied.

When the rabbit, the red panda and the fennec looked up, they saw two lynxes in front of them. One was taller than them, almost the height of Nick, Haida, and Ookami. The other was shorter than the first, but taller than Judy.

The tallest lynx was white with red stripes on the ears, on the arms, on the lower part of the eyes, on the tail and on the chin. The fur on either side of his jaw looked like a short beard. He had quite thick black eyebrows. The pupils of his eyes were yellow while the irises were brown. His nose was red. The tip of her tail was hairy. His body was quite muscular build. He wore a sleeveless black T-shirt, black pants with a black belt, and brown boots.

The shortest lynx was yellow with brown stripes on the ears, arms, and tail. He had quite thick brown eyebrows. The pupils of his eyes were white while the irises were green. His nose was deep pink. The tip of his tail was hairy. Unlike the other lynx, his build was slightly slimmer. He wore an orange t-shirt with blue short sleeves, blue pants with a black belt, brown gloves, brown boots and a flat brown hat with her ears poking out. On his back he carried what appeared to be a silver-colored backpack, which strangely looked metallic.

"Let us help you" said the white lynx holding out his hand.

The yellow lynx also held out command of him to help them.

Retsuko and Fenneko got up with the help of the taller lynx, while Judy got up with the help of the shorter lynx.

"Thank you very much" all three said at the same time.

"You're welcome," said the shorter lynx.

"I guess they were worried about something they didn't see where they were walking" said the taller lynx.

"Eh well, we were looking for someone, but we don't know who he is exactly," Fenneko said.

"And how do you know who you are looking for?" the taller lynx asked.

"It's complicated, I can only say that they are not from here, but we know that they have been in this city for 3 months after a strange event happened," said Judy.

"You mean a white light that enveloped the whole place and that when it disappeared we ended up in this city" said the shorter lynx.

The rabbit, the red panda and the fennec were surprised to hear that.

"Yes exactly," Retsuko said.

"Did that happen to you too?" the two lynxes asked at the same time.

"Not us, but who sent us to look for you, yes" Fenneko replied.

"If you don't mind, we could ask you a few questions about what happened to you," Judy said.

"Of course, but not here. Let's go to another place not so crowded" said the tallest lynx.

While the tallest lynx was with the three girls, the shortest lynx was a little further behind when suddenly a voice began to speak to him.

"You're sure we should trust them," said the backpack on his back that turned out to be actually a small green-eyed robot, who contracted his limbs to pass like a backpack.

"Of course, they know those who can help us get back to our planet" said the shorter lynx.

Finally they came to a small cafeteria and ordered some coffee. Then they sat at the table furthest from the rest of the customers.

"So what are their names?" Judy asked.

"My name is Ratchet," said the shorter lynx.

"And my name is Alister Azimuth" said the tallest lynx.

The three girls showed up with the two linx.

"Where do they come from?" Fenneko asked.

"Well we were both born on the planet Fastoon, which is now in ruins," Alister replied.

"And before I got here I was residing on the planet Veldin" Ratchet replied.

"So you are aliens?" Restuko asked.

"Well, you could say that yes, our species is known as Lombax" said Alister.

"But it seems that we are quite similar to the inhabitants of this planet, so we go unnoticed," said Ratchet.

"Where are Fastoon and Veldin left?" Judy asked.

"Faston is located in the Polaris galaxy, while Veldin is located in the Solana galaxy," Ratchet replied.

"Both galaxies are close to each other, but unfortunately they are located very far from this galaxy," added Alister.

"And tell us, what were you doing before you got here?" Retsuko asked.

"I'm a hero who is in charge of defeating criminals and galactic supervillains, I had just returned home from a mission, it was night when suddenly the entire area where I live lit up white. When I found out, I had appeared in this city on top of a building. Fortunately there were no more inhabitants near where I lived because if they hadn't ended up here too," Ratchet replied.

"In my case, you may not believe it, but I'm not supposed to be alive right now. It was assumed that I had passed away a few years ago, in a sacrifice to save Ratchet and the universe, from an event that was going to happen because of me, and in the subsequent explosion I ended up dying. I don't know what happened before arriving on this planet, since I was deceased, but the first thing I remember was waking up on this planet again alive and with my body restored, and with Ratchet hugging me with joy that he was from I'm coming back" Alister replied.

"If it weren't for the strange things we've been through since yesterday, it would have been hard to believe them, but taking into account what we're going through, their stories don't seem strange to me. By the way, what's the name of your little robot friend that comes with you" asked Fenneko.

"What do you mean Fenneko?" Retsuko asked.

"Don't tell me you didn't hear Ratchet talking to someone on our way here and looking at his back as he did so?" Fenneko said.

Alister and Ratchet made her nervous, to notice that he noticed.

"Don't worry, we will be careful so no one notices," Fenneko said.

"Okay," Ratchet said, taking off what looked like a backpack and putting it on the table.

What looked like a backpack, then he took the form of a small robot of a shorter stature than Retsuko and Fenneko.

"Judy, Retsuko, Fenneko, this is Clank, he is my best friend and we have had many adventures together" said Ratchet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Clank.

"The taste is ours" said the three girls.

"So you know what that light was that brought us here," Clank asked.

The three girls began to explain the story that Sonic and the others had told them. Once the two Lombaxes and the robot were finished, they finally understood why they got there, although still wondering why Alister came back to life.

"First of all, we have to tell those who sent us to look for them that we already found them," Retsuko said.

Judy took the communicator from her, pressed the right button, and said that she wanted to talk to Tails.

"Hi Tails, this is Judy. We already found the first group that was teleported here by the chaos control. Did you guys go out of town? Oh I understand. Don't worry, we can do that. Bye," Judy said.

"What happened?" Fenneko asked.

"They left the city, they found traces of the master emerald, so they went looking for it and Jack accompanied them" Judy replied.

"And what will we do now?" Retsuko asked.

"Well, they told me to take them to the apartment and wait for them to come back," Judy replied.

"They have no problem accompanying us" Retsuko asked the two Lombaxes and the robot.

"Of course not," Ratchet replied for all three.

After that, Clank hid his limbs from him again, Ratchet put it back on as if it were a backpack. They all paid for their coffee and left the cafeteria in the direction of Gori's apartment.

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