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I didn't think this through, did I...

Usually it involves him being so secretive that nobody has all the information they'd need to make good decisions. Some of the time I get it; some of the time I could just smack him. This time, the scenario itself prevented him from realizing he had the information, and then he was dead for a while. >.> Props to them for avoiding that over-utilized plot device.

Calling the 456's bluff without a backup plan in case they weren't bluffing was pretty dumb. I think this is one of the mistakes that I get, though, because a) they were on countdown and didn't have much time to think it through, and b) it's consistent with Jack's theme of trying to be a better man. Jack says, "What was I supposed to do?" Ianto says, "Stand up to them." Jack thinks to himself, "Oh. Right, that is what a good man would do. That's what a man worthy of being loved by you would do." So he says, "Okay, let's go stand up to them." And the two of them have a really great scene of doing that together, united in purpose.

And. Well. In most other universes, that would work, but it's Torchwood, so.

I think most of the blame in this story falls on the British government, though. When your first instinct is to kill off potential assets because you're worried about your image, that does not bode well.

(Re. Cyberwoman, I forgive it for being an early S1 episode; as I said above, S1 episodes are often a bit clunky. In that case, I can see through the clunk to what they wanted it to be. I wish they'd explained how the hell Ianto snuck her into the Hub, though. That's the one plothole I can't overlook. {= / )

Re. "when it's actually written well," I think I responded to that sentiment above, and I totally agree.

~Neshomeh

I love seasons one and two for the scant handful of actually good episodes they produced, but they're... sadly too few and far between. The episodes, for the most part, rely on sex and violence to carry the... I'm being generous, calling it a "plot", but there you are.

The rest of the time, all you can really do is play some drinking games with friends who know how absurd the majority of the first two seasons are. It's actually great fun and you're definitely never left wanting for the amount of nonsense you get. So at least there's that?

(Funnily enough, "Adrift" was probably one of my more favorite episodes of season 2—it really hammered home the impact the Rift and just alien activity in general has on the people left behind. It was painful to watch, and it didn't really have a proper resolution because, well, what resolution is there? Just a son left trapped in the confines of his insane mind, and a grieving mother who didn't get the closure Gwen thought she would. It's sad, and it's unsatisfying, because you want to imagine the heroes [uh, "heroes"?] could fix it, but they... can't. Considering it was a one-off, I'm okay with this. Nobody wins, everybody loses, all anyone can do is try to accept this and move on. It hits uncomfortably close to real life in this instance.)

That RTD is basically a fifteen-year-old boy, giggling to himself about all the naughty things he's getting away with. Half the time, that "lol because I can" energy dominates, and things happen just because the script says so. (See my previous gripes about the bits I didn't like in S2.)

It sucks because the other half of the time, I think the show is really good. They had a great cast of characters, and when they focus on that—the tiny group of (mostly) normal people struggling with the extraordinary—it works. They're not the Doctor. They don't have the resources, or the power, or the knowledge. They have to do the best they can with what they've got, and sometimes their best won't be good enough, and it will all take a toll eventually. They're only human. Even Jack.

So, I don't mind dark, and I don't mind edgy, and I definitely don't mind it being leavened with goofy antics (sexual or otherwise) from time to time. The problem is just when it's arbitrary. There is an unfortunate amount of that in S1 and S2. I forgive a lot of it in S1, because it's pretty normal for a show to have a few weird episodes in its first season, while it's still figuring out who it is and what it can actually get away with. It's... not too surprising they didn't get another full season after S2, though. There's a lot of good stuff in there, but it also has the only episode I can totally do without.

I don't think CoE is arbitrary, though, at least not in the way that, e.g., the ending to "Adrift" is. They may not have been happy about being limited to five episodes, but it does seem to have forced them to refine their ideas and make sure the story hung together without any obvious, gaping plotholes. It's doing the thing right. I just don't get why they wanted to do the thing at all, I guess. {= P

~Neshomeh

The gang was headed by the three triplets—Elizabeth "Lizzie", Florence, and Robert. Lizzie liked to claim she was the leader, since she was the oldest of the three, and had headed far more raids on any town than her sister and brother put together, but the other two would say she was full of hot air.

Florence was Lizzie's twin—Robert, the youngest, was the fraternal triplet of the bunch—but Florence had suffered a fall from a horse when she was young and sustained rather severe injuries, especially to her face (consequently making it much easier to tell her and Lizzie apart) and leg. She preferred to stay at the back of their raids and snipe from a distance from horseback while her siblings moved in to press the attack.

Robert rather unfortunately was the victim of a powder keg lit too soon, and as a result lost his arm and eye in the explosion. He's now easily the best intimidator of the gang; at well over six feet tall, with an eyepatch and a hooked prosthetic arm, he does not look like someone to be crossed.

The triplets have a younger brother named Alexander, who isn't much of a fighter. He makes up for it with his brain—he's usually the one to plan out their raids, and makes for one hell of a mechanic, often fixing up their wagons or weapons (or Robert's arm) whenever something breaks down. He adopted a stray cat that he named Zeke and the others have found it impossible to separate the two.

Lizzie's second-in-command is a Japanese immigrant: Arashi "Lightning" Akio, whose skill with a knife is a sharp contrast to his cheerful disposition. He doesn't seem all that upset that circumstances forced him into a life of banditry, and he and Lizzie are thicker than, well, thieves. He's not really the bandit sort—always ready with a kind word and the first to suggest mercy to the towns they hit up—but his loyalty to Lizzie, and hers to his, is unbreakable. Leaving never even crossed his consideration.

Charlotte joined the gang when she and Florence fell in love. The others won't deny it's a bit strange to see their sister involved with a woman (though Lizzie silently stifles her jealousy), but Charlotte's an excellent runner and often serves as a wonderful distraction while the others get on with their work. And hey, she makes Florence happy, which is a rarity in and of itself, so who are they to complain? Charlotte's not the best fighter by any means, but Florence has been trying to teach her how to shoot, with mixed results. As of now, her skills lie off the battlefield.

And then there's Daisy/David. None of them are really sure what to make of her... or him. Either way, whatever they're calling themselves, they make an excellent spy, blending in to any crowd effortlessly. Not to mention, while Charlotte might be a proper lady above seducing people for information, Daisy/David has no such compunctions, and the other members of the gang have a running bet on how soon it will be before they're tracked down by a disgruntled single mother. Or get pregnant themselves. The gang's really not sure at this point, but whichever happens first, right? Robert can't stand them, but the others tolerate them or even find them hilarious.

Their main points of contact are Fiona—a rather severe spinstress (well... she's actually quite young, but single, and has better things to do than marry and raise a bunch of squawling babies) who owns her own ranch and replaces the gang's horses when need be, never mind the weird experiments she conducts on the side; Olive, a mutual friend of Alexander's and Charlotte's who even handier with blacksmithing than he is, but doesn't feel the need to run off and join a gang of outlaws; and Father Zachary, a priest and missionary who the gang often returns to when they need help patching up their wounds. There's a man who only answers to Faust who often visits him, seemingly only to make trouble, but why Father Zachary seems so fond of him, they've never asked.

((Whoo! That's a lot of agents. I hope it was fairly obvious who everyone was, even with time period appropriate names swapped in with no explanation.))

(So when do we find out what Pinkie and the Grey are up to?)

hS

Most of the French is ignorance (okay, I once knew there was a '-ce' in there, but not any more) or simple type ('the la revoltion' is because it was going to be 'the [name of group]', only I couldn't figure out who he'd actually sympathise with). The random English word in the middle of a French sentence is entirely deliberate, though. ^_^ I'm writing the genre, after all.

(Also, 'Ancien Regime' appears in English as early as the 1790s, so he's kind of using an English term, rather than a fully French one. Also also: putting the verb in French might lead readers' eyes to glaze over, where just doing the nouns shouldn't.)

I would love to see more stories in this vein. Of course, if it does happen, I'll have to figure out how a non-multiversal, non-badfic-related PPC analog fits into Multiverse Theory. Perhaps it's all an aspect of the Ur-PPC...?

hS

Also, a couple of French corrections:

N'est pas ("is not") should be "n'est-ce pas" ("is it not").

Either "the révolution" or "la révolution"--not "the la". La means the. I'd probably match what you choose for "ancien régime"--or even just put the whole sentence into French, especially if you go with "la" and "l'ancien" ans thus have all of one English word in between them? "La révolution contre l'ancien régime", I believe.

Also, I want to write something in this verse more and more (especially after reading this), but I'm still figuring out if I can pull it off! I don't have a ton of experience with the genre.

On the other hand, I can always combine an attempt with a little research, and correct anything that sounds off after posting...hmm.

~Z

That was awesome! I really enjoyed it!

It's not the easiest genre to work in, and I feel like I kiiiiind of cheated by taking a mission that already ended in a cave and setting it... in a cave. But for all that, it was great fun.

hS

... but I have my own answer to your final question, and it goes back to the... second episode of Torchwood, I think? That's the one where they took 'alien vampire draining the life out of humans' and turned it into 'alien SEX vampire SEX draining the SEX life out of humans with SEX'.

Because Torchwood, when it came out, was sold as 'Doctor Who for adults'. That was what we understood going in (I think we watched Series 1 live, or live-ish), and to be fair, they absolutely committed to it.

Only... when RTD said 'show for adults', apparently what he meant was 'sex, death, horror, and downer endings'. I never got the impression he tried to work in deeper themes; just that when your go-to ending is 'Torchwood win But At What Cost??', you'll end up looking like you're asking hard questions even if you aren't.

Source: Memory. Like I say, I watched Series 1 approximately live, and Series 2... on DVD, maybe? I don't think I got that one all in a row. I've not gone anywhere near Children of Earth or Miracle Day.

hS

The Kelley Brian gang were holed up in the mountain fastness. It was getting on towards nightfall, and ordinarily they'd be arming up, ready to take their due from any luckless traveller taking the High Pass.

Instead, they were listening to Kelley rant.

"-- used to own this country!" the bandit chief snarled, his hoarfrost hair whipping back and forth as he paced. "El Ron answered to us, the whole of Dale's Ravine answered to us! We lived like kings, you hear me? Kings!"

Crouched against the rocky wall, the one they called the Goblin nodded. "'s right," he said, picking at his nails with a long knife. "Kings. Kings and queens."

Kelley shot him a silencing look, then turned back to the newer members of the outlaw gang. "And what've we got now?" he demanded. "A hole in the danged rocks, that's what! You think this is why I brought you on, so we could cower in a danged mineshaft day and night?"

One of the braver recruits, a French exile by the name of Manet, held up a hand. "It is those Mormons from their, how do you call it, Deseret; they come up 'ere, and they-"

Kelley spat into the dry dust of the cave. "Don't you talk to me about Mormonites! Ever since 'Brother Brigham' came to these parts we've had nothing but trouble out of Utah Territory; they should've all been shot along with Holy Joe back east."

The Goblin raised his head, his teeth glinting in the lamplight. "Ain't the Saints who're hassling us," he said. "You know who it is, Kelley Brian, don't say otherwise."

Kelley's face darkened, and he shot a murderous glare at his second. "I know what you're getting at, old-timer. But I ain't worried about the Welsh Indian and his bit on the side; they'll get what's coming to them soon enough, them and all their kind."

"Tell of that to One-Hand Iggy," Manet said, emboldened by the chief's discomfort. "He is not here, n'est-ce pas? And I am hearing that it is the bearded Welshman who shot him down, in this our own High Pass."

Kelley rose up against the flickering lamp, his hand dropping to his six-shooter. His chest puffed out, setting to bellow at his unruly follower; but before he could get a word out a slow clap echoed through the cave.

"I do declare," a lady's voice called, in the leisurely drawl of the Deep South, "that's a most delightsome story you've told yourselves."

"It's not true, of course," a deep Welsh lilt added, as the bandits scrabbled for their guns. "The Saints have enough troubles of their own, boyos; they won't be coming this far north."

"Unlike our good selves," the lady continued, satisfaction ringing in her voice. "A very good evening to y'all, boys."

"Who's there?" Kelley levelled his revolver at the cave mouth, watching for any sign of movement in the dark. "Name yourselves, you cowards!"

The lady laughed, a rippling sound that cut through the underground quiet. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Your friend Iggy Lund was all set to introduce us, but wouldn't you know it, he had other places to be."

"It is them!" Manet hissed. "Monsieur Brian, it is the Welshman!"

"Now that's a bit rude," the man's voice came back, "ignoring the lady when she's speaking to you. What are they teaching you here in the mountain country?"

"Show yourselves!" Spittle flew from Kelley's lips as he swung his gun across the entrance. "Come out and fight me!"

An arrow arched out of the shadows, striking the bandit's hand and sending his six-shooter flying. As he clutched the hand to his chest, the Welsh voice went on calmly: "I don't think there's much chance of that, boyo."

"You're hardly deserving of the honour of a fair fight," the lady agreed. Then her voice dropped, almost to the edge of hearing. "Taff... there were only supposed to be two of them."

"I was noticing that, Connie cariad," the man said. "Don't worry - I have a plan."

"Is this one of your good plans?" the lady asked. "Or have you come up with another way to get us killed?"

Manet, his gaze darting between the injured Kelley and the slouching Goblin, had been getting more and more jittery. Now he stepped forward, beckoning the rest of the gang forward. "Come, my brothers!" he called. "Let us drive them from this place like La Révolution against l'Ancien Régime!"

A gun flashed in the darkness, illuminating for the briefest instant a woman's face, framed by tight curls and set in concentration. Manet staggered back, but now the other bandits were firing, shots ricocheting from the rocky walls.

"I'm afraid, cariad, the plan is a little bit of both," the man's voice said, and then there was a flare of light. The outlaws threw their arms up to shield their eyes, the gunfire falling to a stop.

When they could see again, they found the bearded Welshman standing in the very middle of the tunnel, his hand held aloft. All eyes turned to the thing he held there: the red cylinder, and the bright fuse burned nearly down to the paper. Taff bared his teeth at the bandits, then turned to the woman crouching behind an outcropped boulder.

"Connie cariad," he said, his voice ringing clear through the tunnel, "I suggest you run."

---

I'm sure he'll be fine... maybe?

hS

(Apologies for any typos, I’m sneaking in a reply on my phone before a field trip.)

Doctor Who is... dark. Obviously not on the level of Torchwood, but we’re talking a show where Amy committed suicide not knowing if she was in a dream or not, the Time Lords deliberately drove a child to murderous insanity, the Doctor thought he had committed double genocide, the Doctor deliberately setting off the Vesuvius eruption to preserve the timeline, that whole situation in Midnight where that group of humans was willing to throw an innocent victim to whatever the hell that thing was because they thought it would save them, the Time Lords trapping the Doctor for four and a half billion years in a neverending loop of terror, grief, guilt, and suicide...

But they usually don’t get shown on-screen. The Doctor saves the day or someone else saves the Doctor, or the Doctor finds a clever way out, or the really dark moments are brushed under the rug because hey, it’s a family show—we’ll let the adults stew in the horror while the kids are entertained (or pants-wettingly terrified).

In Torchwood, we don’t have the luxury to ignore and forget. We’re presented with it right in front of us, and the camera lingers, the story lingers, and we have to watch these characters every step of the way as they have to live with the consequences of their decisions.

(Side note, Jack, how stupid were you, just waltzing in and telling the 456 to GTFO without a backup plan? It is 100% your fault Ianto died.)

I think that’s partly why I love Torchwood so much when it’s actually written well. when it’s not that’s when we get the flaming dumpster fire that is Cyberwoman but that’s neither here nor there...

Also, do let me know when you’ve seen Miracle Day! It’s not as tightly written as CoE, but it’s my favourite season of Torchwood for, uh, several of the reasons I listed above.

Hello from a mountain mostly tall enough to be clear of the radiation! This is a slightly unsettling choice of metaphor, but the space stations are lovely, and the map is enlightening as always.

I really do love these maps- while the X and Y axes are given a certain degree of authority, they manage to fit many-dimensional data into a very understandable format!

(Not commenting on the original post only because I haven't yet finished season three of Dragon Prince. So far it's been as brilliant as the preceding two seasons, though!)

Non-spoilery comments about Children of Earth: It's bloody brilliant, but it doesn't half tie your brain in knots and tear your heart to shreds. {= (

Increasingly spoilery comments follow.

So, CoE is basically "Small Worlds" again, only on a much bigger scale and with a far less comfortable resolution. If you remember what happens in "Small Worlds" (and that I had Strong Feelings about it), you know that's saying something.

Look, Torchwood writers, what is it with you people forcing Jack into these situations over and over again, huh? I'm with Gwen: it wasn't his fault. It was yours. It's you people who seem to think we live in a crapsack universe where there's never a way out of any situation that doesn't involve moral compromise. ("Compromise" is not a strong enough word for this, I know, shut up.) And I don't get it! Doctor Who doesn't work that way, does it? I'm pretty sure the Doctor almost always manages to pull some kind of Crazy Eddie solution out of his back pocket and save the world without having to deliberately and knowingly do something evil. So, WTF?

*deep breath*

Okay. So. CoE presents us with a series of simple yet impossible questions.

If you could save the world, but you had to give up twelve children to a group of unknown aliens do it, would you? The aliens say the kids won't be harmed, and they'll give us the cure for the next Spanish flu in exchange. The cure works, too. Does that sound like a pretty good deal?

In 1965, the government of Great Britain decides on the world's behalf that the answer is yes. Twelve orphans no one will miss. No problem. We even have a guy who's enough of a ruthless bastard to make the delivery for us!

Cut to 2009 or whenever CoE is set. The question now is this: if you could save the world, but you had to give up ten percent of the world's children to do it, would you?

Let's be clear about this: the world is at stake. The show is a little slow to establish this fact to my satisfaction, but establish it they do. These aliens can wipe us out with the superplague any time they feel like it. And no, we can't fight back. We can't even find whatever vessel they arrived on, let alone shoot at it. Maybe they don't even have one; their spokesbeing(s) arrived in a very impressive blaze of light. Who knows how far away that can reach?

(Why is this so important to them? Why do they want children in the first place? So glad you asked! Turns out the aliens get high on them. Something about the chemical balance of a prepubescent kid's physiology. Growth hormone? I dunno. It doesn't really matter, does it?)

This time, it's not just Great Britain making the decision. America and the United Nations are in on it. They decide the same thing. Ten percent of each country's population of children in exchange for billions of other lives. What choice do we have? Take a stand on principle and get wiped out as a species? No.

But which ten percent do we give up? The people making the decision are quick to establish it won't be any of their kids, so any pretense of random selection is thrown out the window right off the bat. How about the ones from the lowest-performing schools? It's not like they're going on to be productive members of society anyway. (Please read my deepest and most cutting sarcasm here, because frell that dren. But I digress.)

So that happens. The governments of the world commence to round up their tithe. It's happening, right now. At any minute, they'll be beamed up.

But wait. What if you could save them? What if you, Jack Harkness, could save every single one... and all you had to do was torment your own grandson unto death, in front of your own daughter, to do it?

Look, you tried standing up to them. You did. All that accomplished was the deaths of a bunch of unlucky bystanders and your lover, Ianto Jones, who was way too young and too good to die like that. You tried looking for another way to send this killer sound frequency back to those bastards, but even if it's possible, there's no time to make it happen. You have precisely one choice, and it's garbage.

What price humanity? One child's life. One man's soul. (Well, whatever's left of it by now.)

So where does that leave us? Jack's a ruthless bastard and always has been; this is not in question. Is he more of a ruthless bastard than the men and women who decided to give up the disadvantaged kids they deemed expendable while sparing their own? Between the two, whose decision was more evil: saving your loved ones at the expense of millions, or saving millions at the expense of your own blood? Would it be better to be the guy who killed his kids, his wife, and himself, saving no one, rather than give them up when ordered? Would it be better to choose humanity's total extinction over the blackening of its collective soul?

CoE doesn't try to answer these questions for us. They don't explicitly judge any of the parties involved more favorably than the others, merely present them as they are and leave it up to us to decide.

I don't know the answers, folks. I don't think there are any good ones, and I think that's the point. I guess all I can do is forgive everyone.

I hated Jack for a few minutes, until I started thinking the thoughts that added up to this post, but whatever else he is, he's brave. He takes action when it matters. He doesn't wring his hands, rationalize, or make excuses. He doesn't hide from the consequences, and he'll live with those forever. I respect that. I forgive him.

I hated all the politicians while they were callously deciding to throw away lives their biases find less valuable, and discussing how to cover it up so they could remain in power in the aftermath. I think they're a bunch of cowards—but I can't fault anyone wanting to protect the ones they love. It's normal. I don't know that I wouldn't do the same or, which might be worse, choose indecision and inaction instead, and pass the buck to someone else. At the very least, they acted to save as many as they could, and were loyal to those they loved. I can't respect them, but I do forgive them.

I pray to whatever higher power there might be that we don't live in a universe where bad choices are the only ones we have, so that I never have to make a call like that myself.

Again, I think Children of Earth is a great story. The plot is air-tight, which allows it to ask these really tough, thought-provoking questions in a meaningful way. It's just absolutely sodding miserable. After all, this is Torchwood, and we still can't have nice things.

Here's the only question I really want answered: Whovians, what is up with Torchwood being so awful compared to Doctor Who when they ostensibly take place in the same universe—on the same planet in the same universe, often enough? Or, am I imagining it, and is Who overall darker than I remember? I'd like to blame a lot of what happens in Torchwood on the cruel and capricious gods of its creative team and cut the characters some slack. Is that fair, or am I dreaming?

~Neshomeh

... but given that the captain's log duplicated Helsinki, erased Elcalion, and moved Iximaz clear across a mountain, it pretty obviously wasn't ^_^;

(I've also edited the previous post and fixed the Log.)

I do love it when things from the maps mesh well with reality. ^_^ It may please you to know that the Eastern Wastes have always been a hotbed of power: the vast fortresses of the Age of Cities, the brass tide of the Age of Brass, the anti-mana volcanoes of the Age of Mana, the Badger's anti-mana horde of the Age of Clouds, and now your very own pluranium mines.

It's not like there's even a single factor running through them: the first few were just worldplay, and the anti-mana ones came from the Regulationism scale, not the Ecology one. I guess it's just an inevitability at this point?

hS

Oddly, this is actually very appropriate; one of the things I think we as a society could use more of is nuclear power.

Would it be possible to more clearly tag the cities on the map? It's easy enough for me to locate myself, but it's rather difficult to determine which city is which in the clusters further to the left.

Aurora Morningstar, Hegemon of the Eastern Wasteland, who categorically rejects the unsubstantiated rumors of using interdimensional entities as a power source.

Taff might be the rarest of rare breeds. There's not a lot of Welshmen on the frontier, and those that are are mostly holed up down in Utah with the rest of the Mormonites. There's only one as knows what led Taff to lay aside his scriptures and take up a Native bow to fight corruption from Nebraska to Oregon - and she's not talking.

Connie's heard all the jokes - how many mamas did she have, any angels come calling recently, has Brother Brigham asked her father for her hand yet? Back when she spent her days tending dysentery sufferers where the Oregon Trail meets Utah Territory, she met all such questions with the smile and polite laugh that's expected of a young lady. Now, since taking up ('shacking up', the rumours say, though not in her hearing) with Taff and the Protectors, she's more experienced with gunshot wounds - and has a revolver of her own to answer such impertinence.

They call Morgan the toughest man ever born a woman. With his (never 'her' - not when there's shooting to be done) hair soot-blackened to match his coat, all you'll see of him on a dark night is his trademark gold sash catching the firelight - his hefty six-shooter that's more of a handheld cannon - and the flash of twin bullets heading your way. One for the heart-side, one for the far-side; it's the only way to be sure.

~

I apologise for the endless stream of references up there. Good grief.

Resisting the temptation to draw Terrible Beard Dafydd now.

hS

Beep... beep... beep...

Captain's Log, Stardate 19344.4

Plortitics is a land divided. Ever since the mysterious Event which raised the land once more from the sea, it has been populated by myriad city-states, in constant competition with each other. It would be nice to imagine that the dawn of the Space Age would allow them to set aside their rivalries and come together at last, but as we swing into orbit over the island, it is clear that this has proven a step too far.

No less than five orbital stations vie for our attention. In the far west, the linked wheels named Kaitlyn and GMA are studded with docks, but their heavy fortifications make me uneasy. On the other hand, they seem in a good state of repair - unlike Tomash Orbital, their neighbour to the east, which spews radiation from what seems to be a cracked reactor housing.

Huinesoron Station may be a better choice: it seems the most friendly, maintaining only a simple meteor shield and many docking bays, and has only residual contamination. But it is a small station, and its position over a mid-slope area of land suggests a certain degree of exile. Granz, riding high over a mountain, is more typical; but is the fallout covering the peak below truly unconnected from the shielded station above?

It may be that we would be wiser to land upon the planet itself, in one of the many mountaintop docks. Scapegrace, positioned practically beneath Kaitlyn, is an option, though its extensive fortifications make me nervous. Doctorlit, to its north-east, seems more open, and sports a great many docking bays, but I have to wonder whether its distant position indicates a certain standoffishness.

The main cluster of ports stands beneath Huinesoron Station, and they are a study in contrasts. Delta Juliette on its snowbound mountain peak may be friendly enough, but Four Moons Watching (a curious name) is sunk deep into the rock of the mountain, and seems prepared to see off an invasion. SunAndMoon, though similar in name, is a polar opposite (and not just for its position on the far side of Delta): entirely unshielded, with its docking bays spaced wide. Then there is Helsinki, nestled on the wooded slopes of the mountains, a hidden fastness close to the Centre Pole.

Ultimately, the mass of radiation covering the mountain makes the decision for me: I must look elsewhere.

A little to the north, a cluster of small ports seems a viable prospect. Virtually unshielded, and with no contamination in sight, the trio of Snowblaze, Hieronymus, and tiny Mikelus are almost welcoming. Except... what would drive these ports, two airborne, one floating on the dark sea, to such an extreme location, on the very edge of Plortitics? I fear there is more to them than meets the eye.

The lone mountain rising in the centre of Plortitics' southern coast has promise. It is true that Cicada, atop the grey peak, is the picture of unfriendliness, with its radioactive haze held off from its single port only by massive shielding. But Iximaz to its west seems welcoming enough, if small; larger Elcalion, to the east, sits silently behind its walls, though it otherwise presents a fairly pleasant aspect.

Not so the settlements to its north. Kerowyn, secure on its ridge, defended by irradiated wastelands and accessible only by a single port, is nevertheless the most open of the three: for tiny SomeRandomPersonAccount and OrangeFox lie beneath the sea, the first having no visible access, the second being utterly engulfed by radiation. It would take a hardy ship indeed to approach these purported ports.

And yet, who can blame them? For in the far east of the isle lies the fastness of the Morningstar, Aurora the heir of the War-Queen Alleb. Sunk deep into the magma that underlies the isle, secure behind shields of adamant and the sickly glow of fractured atoms, who knows what strange ships might rise from its twin docking ports?

Not I, and I choose not to find out. Though we are low on fuel, I order the Helmsman to bring the ship about. We will make for friendlier skies, and put the endless feuding of Plortitics behind us.

---

With no offence intended to any of you radiation-spewing maniacs. ^_~ The position of each city is based on your Left/Right result (Socialism/Capitalism) and your 'Liberal'/Authoritarian result. The height of the land is based on how Constructivist you are, while the height of your dock is based on how Regulationist you are (the idea being that sticking the ports in orbit is the Health&Safety-approved option, while burying yourself underground is the free market at work). Your port is sized based on how much you support Rehabilitation (since it produces a larger free population), and its number of ports (black circles in most case, any black areas on the orbital stations) comes from your Internationalism score. Finally, you get increasing levels of shields if you're more Revolutionary, and increasing radiation levels if you're less into Ecology.

All of the scales are calibrated based on the PPC's results this year, so don't be confused if you're down as low despite being above the 50% mark: literally the only one where the lowest category starts below 50% is Revolutionary. For Regulationism, you're going to be deep underground/water unless you're at 70% or more!

hS

Be a shame if something were to happen to it.

I wasn't sure I would have ideas for this, not being a big Western reader/watcher, but as it turns out, I do!

Let's start easy. For Jenni, I reckon it's Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman meets the Night Nurse. It's hard enough making a living as a female doctor while raising children out on the frontier, let alone patching up vigilantes in secret, pro bono. She'd be the first to tell you her life doesn't have much room in it for romance, not the church-bells and gold bands sort that most people expect. Her kids and her work come first. Yet, the heart wants what the heart wants, and love always finds a way.

Next:

Derik was a lawman. A good one, too. Then, one day, his partner Skip stumbled onto the sheriff's corrupt dealings with the local robber barons. He and Derik tried to put a stop to it, but in the ensuing shoot-out, a powder keg exploded, killing Skip and leaving Derik scarred for life while the villains got away scot-free. No one in town has seen him since, but rumor has it he's taken up with the mysterious freedom fighters calling themselves the Protectors. They say he's responsible for all the bad luck the sheriff and her associates have had since: Mysterious storehouse fires. Lost shipments. Stolen cattle. You name it, they say it's Derik to blame, wreaking his vengeance for his partner's death in the name of justice.

And he's not alone. He's got a little redheaded gal by his side now—but don't let her looks fool you. She's as tough as they come, and twice as mean. The daughter of a simple homesteader whose land was stolen out from under him, Gal fights for her family... but mostly for the fun of it. I wouldn't cross her if I were you.

And finally:

Mr. Norris isn't the sort you would suspect of being an outlaw. By day, he's just a banker, quietly sipping a hot cup of joe while he keeps his ledgers. He has a sharp tongue in his head, but he hides under the desk when things get rough. However, the Protectors know him as the Supernumerary, and what they know that nobody else does is that he's got dirt on everyone. The Supernumerary remembers everything, see. The bad guys can cook the books all they want, but he knows the truth. And the truth will out.

His assistant, Mr. Ryan, is cheerful and commonly thought to be a bit daft. He's not from here, you know. But the thing about a friendly, unassuming sort like Mr. Ryan is that people will tell him things they think he won't understand, and what Mr. Ryan knows, Mr. Norris also knows. Also, Mr. Ryan is designing a new mechanism for the bank vault. When it's finished, the next person to get in there without the proper authority is going to be in for a nasty surprise.

~Neshomeh had fun with this. ^_^

But I'm strongly opposed.

Equality · Humanity · Socialism

She sits firmly ensconced in the lowest-leftmost position on the plot (at least so far).

Map is in the works; I'm up to 9 people done, 12 to go. I'm not slow - I'm meticulous.

hS

I do admit, I haven't thoroughly re-read any Yeerk POV stuff, and I know we don't really have much of anything about Yeerk cosmology and such, so a lot of this is plausible extrapolation (and Nesh not complaining).

And I do wonder, is there any particular direction you're hoping/worrying this story might go (given your last line)?