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What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic) 
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Post What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
653 days after initial encounter with Humanitee

Commodore Fragil Storm waited in her office, tapping on her desk franticly trying to control her irritation. The sight of what this long green haired officer had done to three supposedly indestructible practice dummies along the walls was a testament to this.

“Commodore,” she heard a mental voice in her head. “She is ready to debrief you on the incident.”

Fragile storm held back a series of horrendous things to say to her subordinate, simply telling her to let her in and be quick about it.

The doors to her officer opened quietly and swiftly; something she always hated. It had been millennia since the last truly devastating Loroi civil war, but her clan preferred a door that was noisy: if danger is to find you, at least know when to greet them, her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother would say.

The Morzen walked in; slender and pale, with short red hair. Her eyes were opposing red and blue, and there a number of tattoos on her neck indicating she spent too much time on the wild side of the alien cultures. Disgusting.

Still this was the best she had. Pressing a glowing patch on her desk, an projection of Alexander Jardin, and first Humanitee ever encountered, was brought forth. She admitted that he was intriguing. He was built like a warrior despite the fact he was male and his appearance was similar to her own race. Though her fascination may have been from a lack of a male encounter for well too long.

“Explain to me why twenty-five of the Oran Hos’te Bluc Clan now have twenty-nine purple children that have this alien’s DNA?”

“The scientists have not figured that out.” The Morzen managed to convey bluntly. She was a rather polite, even beyond the standards of her classes, but even she had her limits. “Chemically, cellular, plausibility, and anything else you want to measure by, it should be more likely for us to bear a healthy child of a Historian or a Barsam. Yet, Captain Jardin has managed to pass his DNA into some of our soldiers.”

“And how was that possible?” Fragile Storm demanded.

“Do you think I am pleased with this?” The Morzen snapped back, surprising the Unsheethed. “I spent the last forty years trying to foster better relations with the Hisk, when I am called back to have to deal with this mess. So cut the fecal matter.”

“I could have you hung for such insubordination.” Fragile Storm threatened.”

“And this entire conversation is being monitored for future cases of alien encounters.” The diplomat spoke. “Or have you forgotten to check if other minds are watching?”

Fragile Storm hissed and snarled in contempt, but said nothing. Score one for the little girls, the diplomat said to herself.

“As we know, Jardin was sent to the Oren School of combat as an observer and to keep him out of trouble. The Hos’te Blec of Clan Oren are a strange lot with more ceremony and adherence to ancient traditions then a royal coronation. One their practices included the sharing of a rare drink that if it were common would have been banned in our core worlds as a way of welcoming an honored guest. What opens the sensory and telepathic abilities of a Loroi mind apparently works as a hallucinogen an aphrodisiac for Jardin.”

“And how did he convince some of our greatest minds into this shameful mating encounter?”

The Morzen Shrugged. “The medical staff suggested to take care of his ‘needs’ until they worked the drink out of his substance.”

800 Days after First Encounter.

Fragile Storm was awoken as news of another incident with Jardin had emerged, This time with the Barsam. So late in her off hours was the incident, she didn’t even bother to change out of her sleeping tunic. “Open a channel to the Barsam.” She groggily ordered her underlings.

They complied and the flat face form of a Barsam had appeared. “Greetings, sisters!” The Barsam said in an irritatingly jovial tone.

“Greetins Iron Scale. What seems to be the problem?”

“No problem, no problem at all. It was just you kindly asked to be informed right away should anything of interest happen to our Little Brother.” Iron Scale said. His toothy expression Fragile Storm had long since accepted as not a threat but some crude smile.

“If there is not a problem, why are you speaking at this ungodly hour of the day?”

“How rude!” Iron Scale managed to get out, flustered at the typical Loroi rudeness. “I comply to a direct order from you and this is how you repay my show of friendship?” The diplomat shook his head that was pulsating with purple along the ridges of his brow.

“Forgive me; we’ve been on edge since the Shell attack a week ago.”

“Forgiven.” Iron Scale said, though any Morzen in range fond a slight bit of doubt in his voice. “Jardin was helping a group of striplings with work around a community devastated by landslide when a Dragon Tortoise arrived and began attack the area. Before we could gather the children away, Jardin had jumped on to the beast, and began riding it away from the city like a beast of burden. When we found him, he was battered and bruised, but was alive; the Dragon turtle was not near as lucky and fell into a ravine.

Despite Loroai discipline, the bridge crew began sending mental chatter to each other. Such a beast was difficult to kill with a tank, much less what the pacifist Barsam could muster. Yet it appeared Jadin had done something that rivaled the feats of some of their ancestors.

“Amazing!” Fragile Storm said, relinquishing some respect for the pink pest. “Where is he now?”

“In one of our hospitals, surrounded by a host of faithful that believe he has been touched by the gods and revere him. It’s quite exciting.”

So this is why lesser races take up fermenting fruit and drinking the poisoned produced, Fragil Storm Thought to herself. A few of her subornments caught the unguarded thought and giggled in agreement.


1000 days after First Encounter.

“A thousand apologies will not be enough for this transgression, but apparently the Humanitee’s forms of entertainment were too much to resist to see if we could replicate in a practical manner.” The Historian construct said. The translucent purple Hologram matched the ugliness of its Green Counterpart that seemed to twitch eerily.

“An understatement, most assured, young one.” The green representative said.

“Just tell me why Jardin and Fireblade are in a full body casts, how half a shell fleet was demolished with minimal loss on our side, and why there is a giant statue with a giant ‘V’ on its Forehead iin the middle of a Loroi base?” Fragile Storm said hoarsely. More humanitee had been sending their troops to study Loroi and other allied and protectorate forces methods with mixed results. The last time she spoke this much she had inadvertently challenged a carrier’s worth of Unsheathe to a blood duel. She wished she would have done that instead of this cursed job.

“Let us simply say that if given a choice to find ways to interface an operator to a giant fighting robot, either remotely or in a cockpit within the weapon itself, don’t.” The green construct snapped. “The so called ‘Zero System’ has improved the fighting potential of both Fireblade and Jardin, but also turned them into berserkers and only stopped when they both passed out from the G’s of reentering atmosphere.”


1300 Days after First Contact

“Um, anyone out there! Can you please send back up now!” Jardin Yelled into a radio as he put his back into a barricade he and Firestorm hastily put up. Despite the Neridi not much taller than a three-year-old, they had a bit of umph to them. He hoped the door would hold long enough for extraction to pick them up.

“This is Requiems Conquest, picking up the signal. What seems to be the problem, High Commander Jardin?”
“A group of Umiake sympathizers of the Neridi have stormed the embassy and have started killing everyone! We are hold up in the smoking room with the other survivors; ten Lorioi, a Barsam, a dozen Neridi, and some kind of sentient jellyfish! Now hurry up!”

“We are on our way. We shall arrive within one standard week.” The Loroi on the other end of the communicator relied.

“A week? Are you joking?”

“It is not my intent to be numerous. We are sorry for the delay, but the War Effort has strained are ability to respond to minor difficulties. Surly you must understand…”

“The Emperor’s heir Shatterblade is one of the survivors!” Jardin interjected.

There was silence for a moment that felt like an eternity in cryo sleep. “We shall arrive within the hour. Hold on, High Commander.”

Jardin clicked the communicator off and let out the first sign of relief of the day.

“Commander,” Said one of the younger unsheathe. “The Emperor’s heir left with her escort when the ruckus started.

“Thank you for the update.” Groaned Jardin. “If they ask when they arrive, tell them their princess is in another castle. Now shut up and help us barricade this door.”


1400 Standard Days after First encounter.
“Explain to me why we are having to reattach High Commander Jardin’s arms back to his body, Drogar Dundun?” Fragile Storm said, her tone even more defeatist then the last.

“Our humblest apologies.” The deep, grumbling voice of the the Dealias diplomat said as he held his tea. “He simply beat a young soldier at one of our games, and you know what they say about beating Delrias.”


Last edited by saint of m on Fri Jun 17, 2016 7:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Sun May 22, 2016 2:01 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Reads like somebody is having way more fun that would be healthy for any Human!

:lol:

Thank you for starting my work day like this!

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Mon May 23, 2016 12:28 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
What's a Morzen?


Mon May 23, 2016 1:18 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Its funny, but kind of hard to read.
Maybe you can format it a bit better?

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Mon May 23, 2016 1:33 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Mr Bojangles wrote:
What's a Morzen?


Could it be a Mizol?


Mon May 23, 2016 7:05 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Sweforce wrote:
Could it be a Mizol?


I think he had in mind Mozin.


Mon May 23, 2016 7:11 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
I had in min what ever the Diplomatic cast is. Sorry, about that.

Thanks for the input.


Mon May 23, 2016 6:46 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Crack fic or not, isn´t any character bothered with Alex lying about Shatterblade´s whereabouts? Loroi have a dim view regarding lies, whatever the reason.


Tue May 24, 2016 7:11 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
raistlin34 wrote:
Crack fic or not, isn´t any character bothered with Alex lying about Shatterblade´s whereabouts? Loroi have a dim view regarding lies, whatever the reason.


True enough, but besides the fact I threw logic out the door with the first incident, Jardin probably wasn't in the mood to care. That and Spoken language is the language of lies and confrontation to the blues.


Tue May 24, 2016 10:39 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Hi. I registered just to say I found this absolutely hilarious, and to ask if you were planning to continue it and/or if others could have a go.


Thu Jun 16, 2016 10:43 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Sure, knok yourself out. I think I went as far as I could, but if others think there is more potential, I could give it a whirl.

And thanks.


Thu Jun 16, 2016 11:34 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Okay. (I hope you think it's good enough.)

1,500 days after initial encounter with Humanity.

Commodore Fragile Storm was being punished; for what crimes or offenses she did not know, and she suspected they were nebulous misdeeds against some vauge cosmic force rather than concrete crimes against the state.

But she was being punished; of this, she was not in doubt. Her existence for the last nearly one-thousand days had the air of punishment duty, a long-standing punishment which was in no way near to its end.

At least her door now made an audible chime when it opened. Small mercies, though it galled her to admit that it was the source of her suffering himself who had commented, offhand, about how his race's superior officers' doors typically made a chime when they opened, which had inspired her to order an engineer to implement such a solution.

She looked up at the Mizol Parat who had entered her office. She knew, of course. Just tell me what new indignities I will be enduring, she conveyed to the diplomatic officer, the pile of reports she had been sifting through about other matters now pushed to the back of her mind.

The human was impossibly dynamic, almost as adept at generating diplomatic incidents as in worming his way out of them. She wished she could dispense with him and return him to his own people with a note saying to kindly confine him to his homeworld, or at least to areas of activity wherein he would no longer come to her attention but he had made himself personally popular with so many of the Emperor's circle that she didn't dare. Her staff had long become accustomed to her weary, put-upon attitude towards the human, and her habit of referring to her dealing with whatever situations he had become embroiled in as an indignity.

You will be required to decorate Captain Jardin for valor in battle, her subordinate responded. The youth was doing an admirable job of keeping a lid on her amusement, but Fragile Storm knew. Ironically, the girl delivering her news was quite capable of keeping it inside her head, but Fragile Storm's dealings with Jardin and other humans had taught her, quickly, two things; firstly that humans and Loroi shared a great deal of body language, and secondly, that she had to become proficient in reading it.

Explain!, Fragile Storm demanded, sharply, her gaze boring metaphorical holes in the young diplomatic officer's eyes.
The corvette which was conveying Jardin in battle. There was an... Incident aboard. Fragile Storm's eyes continued to bore, and the girl pressed on. The full details are unclear at this time, but we believe the Umiak somehow... Subverted one of the crew. The command staff were wiped out in a suicidal attack by one of the senior crew.

Fragile Storm clasped her hands together. Explain how this event leads to my decorating the source of my indignities for valor in battle.

The attack within coincided with a fleet action without. The ship was damaged and its command chain wiped out. No Soroin crew aboard were left above the rank of Paset... No Torrai were left at all. A dispute broke out about who was in charge.

The situation her subordinate was describing was a nightmare; to borrow a phrase from her source of irritation, it was what humans described as a "Charlie Foxtrot." Under such situations, the best that could reasonably be hoped for was that some member of the crew would have the brains to contact a larger vessel and request remote orders from a member of their command detail, like a fighter would receive; or, failing that, to retreat in good order, signalling their distress and requesting cover.

Then it hit her, just before her aide explained it. Jardin had a high rank; equavilent to a Torrai Torret. Honorary rank ostensibly, but a high rank nontheless. Despair hit her as she realized what the youth before her desk was going to say.

Jardin made his way to the bridge, and when nobody was clearly in command of the vessel, he declared himself to be in command. The Parat with him backed his claim and thus, he assumed command of the vessel. Apparently he had been being briefed on the ship's orders and status, and had familiarized himself with the bridge crew previously. He proficiently commanded the vessel in battle, maintaining formation and carrying out orders the vessel continued to receive, even as the enemy pressed in, maintained discipline with the help of his bodyguard and other assigned staff, and participated in pressing the attack when the Umiak line broke... According to reports, he engendered enthusiasm and spurred the crew on with some kind of encouraging outburst. The corvette accounted for far more than her statistical share of the enemy craft destroyed.

Fragile Storm sucked in a deep breath, and let out a slow, weary sigh. This sort of antic had ceased to surprise her after the incident with the giant robot. It galled her that thanks to that incident, the Loroi were now manufacturing similar mechanical units en masse, equipping them with (primarily) human pilots, and they were now proving to be devastatingly effective against the Umiak in ground engagements.

I see. She felt a sense of resignedness, and she could sense the quiet mental chatter between her bridge crew; they would have the story by now, and be sharing it. And when will he be arriving? She should have known something like this would happen. It always did.

He, er, will not be, Commodore. He is presently still in command of the vessel you had him placed on to transport him. Similar attacks took place across the majority of the fleet. While most ships' command chains fared better, there were not enough staff with experience to fully staff the entire fleet. The commanding officer made the decision to leave him in command until we can arrive with relief crew.

I see. Outstanding, Fragile Storm responded. Not only would she be required to decorate him, given that he was presently in command of a vessel, she would have to do it before the crew he had led into battle, formally, before she could relieve him of command and assign the new staff to the corvette.

It also meant she would have to review whatever excuse for a report he had filed, and incorporate the information it conveyed into a report to her superior; reviewing ship's logs, and more.

She had to admit, it was an impressive feat to perform, rallying a broken crew of those not even of his own race and performing above and beyond that which would be expected of a normal, proper officer in that position. At least he hasn't fecundated anyone this time, she sent, thinking back to that incident, and the twenty-nine purple-skinned hybrids that were, impossibly, apparently developing quite normally, if far too slowly. The question of what to do with them was one she had, thankfully, managed to avoid having to answer herself.

She waited a beat, and then glanced up, her eyes having drifted to her desk and the pyramidal, crystalline chunk of mineral that had been a token gift to her by the human himself; a paperweight, a heavy decoration for the desk of one in a position of authority. He has not, right? A brief worry ran through her.
Oh, no, no; nothing of that sort, her subordinate assured her, and Fragile Storm let out a sigh of relief. Not after the human naval corps began supplying him with a standard human shipboard kit.

Fragile Storm took a moment to ponder the implications of her subordinate's odd elaboration, and decided that she did not wish for further elaboration on the topic. Just go, she sent to the junior, pointing at her door. The youth turned to depart, but the door chimed before she approached its sensor distance, another of the same rank rushing into her room, the two smoothly turning to avoid a collision.

Don't tell me: Jardin, she snapped at the newcoming subordinate. The look in the youth's eyes said it all.
Yes, Mazeit, the newcomer confirmed. A fresh courier has arrived.

Fragile Storm sighed. Go away. Prepare the report you are about to give in writing and submit it remotely. Unless the ship is on fire or in combat, no-one is to enter my office or disturb me for the next ten hours. Tell the captain to assemble a suitable replacement crew for the fleet we are to reinforce, and prepare to rendezvous with them.

The young Loroi saluted, and beat as hasty a retreat from her office as she could without breaching decorum; left alone, in her office at least, Fragile Storm sighed, running her hand over the hard, although not sharp, edges of the purple pyramid on her desk, and sighed. The last time she had been forced to endure a diplomatic function involving the humans, one of them had made a diplomatic gift to her of a bottle of their curious fermented berries, and she glanced up at it, unopened on a shelf behind her, where decorum insisted she display it.

The human officer had once been Jardin's commanding officer. She had a suspicion that she knew now why he had made a gift of it to her.


Fri Jun 17, 2016 1:54 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
You are a better writer then I am. I found the whole thing enjoyable and funny.


Fri Jun 17, 2016 7:35 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
{Slow clap!!}.. this was Great Shadowdragon! Top notch! :)

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Fri Jun 17, 2016 7:40 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Nicely done. Well Jardin is supposed to be some kind of prodigy at strategy and tactics. I can see him pulling it off in canon.


Last edited by dapple26 on Sat Jun 18, 2016 1:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Sat Jun 18, 2016 12:47 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
I think you meant canon. A cannon is what you use to shoot at things with.


Sat Jun 18, 2016 3:58 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Southern Cross wrote:
I think you meant canon. A cannon is what you use to shoot at things with.

Yes, I am sure he did fire all the guns at great many things during the engagement.


Sat Jun 18, 2016 1:19 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
I finally had an idea for what that second courier was all about... Does anyone like these? I'm trying to keep the comic, over-the-top nature of Jardin's exploits within the realm of the absurd-yet-remotely-possible, whilst making Fragile Storm something like a mere mortal charged with attempting to wrangle an irresponsible, irascible superhero like Tony Stark.

1,650 days after first contact with Humanity.

Fragile Storm had been sentenced to exile. Not in legal fact; in legal fact, her new orders were something of a prestigious assignment. She was currently standing on the bridge of her new vessel, the Eides-class War Cruiser Retribution. She had formerly been conducting her affairs from the flag bridge of the Demen-class Heavy Carrier Glory, but the massive carrier had been deemed far too slow for her current assignment.

That assignment: travel to Earth, the rather unimaginatively-named homeworld of Humanity, collect the wayward Jardin, his atachés, whatever remained of the fleet that the Umiak had infiltrated and scattered, and formally deposit the pile of diplomats who were there to be called an embassy.

It had been a long, hard run to chase them down, collecting the odd message pod or courier corvette dispatched by the fleet. The Umiak had decided that Jardin was a priority target, and had exposed a plot years in the making to perform what Jardin, in one of his pods, had described as "a hatchet-job" on the Loroi upper echeleons in an attempt to take him out. Indeed, programmed sleeper agents had been discovered practically everywhere - never truly high-ranking, but high-ranking enough - and always Unsheathed - to be able to gain access to and murder the command staff of various vessels.

That they had deployed such an infiltration early, and solely in a bid to assassinate Jardin, made Fragile Storm's mind boggle. He wasn't that important; even if he died, Humanity and the Loroi Union would have been able to reestablish contact with one another eventually.

That having been said, what she was staring at through the screens in the command center of the Retribution was making her rethink her assessment - in particular, her grasp on reality itself. It was so unbelievable that she sat in the chair next to Retribution's commanding officer.

Mazeit Fragile Storm, are you well? The ship's captain asked her, quietly; a subtle telepathic link facilitated by an almost-imperceptible brush of the captain's fingers over her wrist, sending an electric sensation through her. At once she was outraged and relieved; outraged at the unasked-for contact, relieved that the vessel's battle-commander had chosen to contact her privately, without any risk of the crew - whose attention was all focused on their stations or the screens - perceiving it.

I am unsure. I cannot believe my eyes. This was, in fact, literal truth; Fragile Storm wondered if her long suffering in the proximity of Jardin's deeds had broken her faculties and was creating hyperrealistic audio and visual hallucinations. Are you seeing what I am seeing?

She was, and the Captain conveyed a similar sense of disbelief; not at her senses, but at the deed was done, despite evidence of it being a fait accompli.

They were staring at an orbital scaffold in a medium orbit of the blue-green garden world below. While it wasn't particularly impressive to anyone who had seen the Loroi fleet yards, (although by no means was it unimpressive either,) the contents were: one Umiak Type-TT Superheavy. Encountering such vessels at all was astonishingly rare; capturing one, let alone apparently wholly intact, was unheard-of. It was in the process of being dismantled, along with a small host of other, far-smaller Umiak vessels; a Type-G Gunboat Tender, two Type-H Heavy Destroyers, and twenty gunboats.

Standing guard over the captured vessels were three large - by Terran standards - warships and six small ones. Although they compared favorably in size to the captured Umiak destroyers and gunboat tender, the prize capture dwarfed them in turn; nevertheless, size could certainly be deceiving. Fragile Storm recalled with a slight start that the Terrans habitually armed their warships with mass drivers for lack of mature particle-beam technology; laughably short-ranged, but within their laughable range they were, kilogram-for-kilogram, by far the most devastating weapons available short of antimatter, and entirely ignored defensive screens to boot. Even such relatively tiny ships, armed with capital-scale mass drivers, would have been able to make short work of the Umiak TT if it had allowed them to get within mass driver range unanswered.

The captain - formerly the commanding officer of Glory - picked up on her thoughts, and sent to her Yes, but I don't see any battle damage on that superheavy. If the Humanity fleet had successfully ambushed them at starfighter ranges with accelerator cannons, those Umiak would be a debris field polluting this planet's orbit, not being dismantled.

I don't know which possibility worries me more, Fragile Storm responded to her long-time subordinate - one of the few whom she would permit to take the outrageous liberty of touching her for a private conversation without reprimand. That the humans successfully lured a Umiak superheavy and an escort to this planet and ambushed it at close range... Or that they, having done that, somehow convinced the shells to surrender their vessels intact.

The shells do not surrender, her long-time, long-suffering subordinate reminded her, and Fragile Storm looked away from the sight on the screen to stare into the other woman's eyes.

I know that. That's what worries me. What does not worry me, but somehow, settles in my belly like the remains of a meal which was sufficiently subpar as to be mildly unpleasant to eat but not badly enough to warrant chastising the galley crew, is the sickening, cold certainty that somehow, in some way, this is Jardin's doing.

We haven't seen his ship, she pointed out, and Fragile Storm felt a moment of optimism.
Are you suggesting that the source of my indignities may have gotten himself killed in the process of arranging for this to happen? I believe I could live with arranging a hero's Imperial funeral for him if it were the last indignity I had to endure at his hands.
The captain smiled thinly at her; amused by how personally she took Jardin's actions, doubly-so owing to the fact that the human was vaguely fond of her and was, as far as she knew, entirely ignorant of how put-upon the reports of his actions made Fragile Storm feel. She was about to answer, when a sending from the communications officer interrupted them both.

Captain, Commodore, we're receiving a transmission from Captain Jardin. His fleet is badly damaged and are currently sheltering in human docks on the satellite of this planet, where they are attempting to make repairs.

Through a Tempestian effort of self-control, Fragile Storm refrained from letting out a monumental sigh of displeasure, and from telepathically broadcasting her annoyance to the rest of the crew; though better than four-fifths were kept from her longstanding crew aboard the Glory, staffing a fast War Cruiser was sufficiently different from the ponderous bulk of a Heavy Carrier that her superiors had ordered that she retain the most veteran of Retribution's previous crew, to bring her staff up to speed.

The Captain of the vessel smiled at her. Does he so displease you because he is sufficiently low-ranking, yet placed next to sufficiently high persons, that he can perform the kind of insane heroics you longed to perform as a young officer but dared not attempt, or because he is so successful at it where his efforts in defiance of statistics should find only death? Or perhaps because you've gone far too many years without mounting a male, and he's beginning to look good to you.

Fragile Storm shot an arctic glare at the captain, eyes boring holes into the profile of the captain's face, her richly green hair arranged in a flowing mane that spilled down her shoulders. If you were anyone else aboard this vessel, I would have you locked in the brig and relieved of your post for making that comment, she sent back.
The captain, Fragile Spear, finally turned, meeting her gaze with a serene, yet slightly-superior, smile. I know, sister. That is why I alone dare to make the observation.

Rolling her eyes and looking away from her twin, Fragile Storm finally looked away from the sight of the Umiak superheavy undergoing disassembly, looking to the communications officer, sending to the youth very well. Send to Captain Jardin my compliments on this catch, and that I expect his report within the hour.

The communications officer - a stripling, a child, really, when she had been recruited from Fragile Storm's clan rather than the typical warrior creches - looked back at her. The girl, too, was a sister by their mother, though far younger than she and Spear, and the fact was unknown to most of the crew. Captain Jardin's written report has already been transmitted to us. I have forwarded it to your office, Commodore, however, he conveys that he will not be able to shuttle over and deliver his report in person at this time. Apparently, the military officials of humanity are holding a parade to celebrate this unambiguous victory over the enemy... You're invited.

The girl was no longer a child, but still a youth; even so, she had been with the crew long enough for Fragile Storm's displeasure with political gatherings and particularly, Jardin, to be known to her, as it was with, by now, the entirety of the crew of Retribution and most likely the crew of the two other War Cruisers and the small flotilla of corvettes escorting her. Thus it was that she delivered the line with just the tiniest smidgen of trepidation.

Outstanding, Fragile Storm responded. When are these celebrations to take place?
Tomorrow. Apparently, the local military command are very keenly debriefing Captain Jardin and his entourage about the events they've been through recently.

Outstanding, Fragile Storm responded with real enthusiasm for once, as she received the first good news of the day, rising from the chair she had occupied, and glancing to the captain. Get our fleet, such as it is, into order, captain. I'll be in the close combat center. Visions of brutalized training dummies already danced through her head, as the Captain began giving orders aloud, both to the staff of Retribution and the commanders of the vessels escorting her.


Wed Jun 22, 2016 8:54 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Somebody needs to get rid of pent-up frustrations!

Lovely the work of both of you.
I love reading this light-hearted stories!

Thank You!

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Thu Jun 23, 2016 2:01 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
I completely agree.. these are Awesome stories! Love reading them! :)

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Thu Jun 23, 2016 2:41 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Glad you're enjoying it. I kind of liked the idea of the weary, put-upon bureaucrat who is saddled with the responsibility of trying to provide some kind of oversight for an irresponsible, irascible Jardin who just seems to find success at every turn, even when he's ignoring the odds harder than a Corellian attempting to fly an asteroid thicket.

And that made me wonder, why is she like that, and it hit me; because Jardin is doing the kinds of things she wanted to do when she was younger, but she learned to play it safe, to be the dutiful staff officer as the path to get promoted. As a consequence, she never took risks, never directly commanded a vessel in combat; she's a flag officer's flag officer, the kind of person who is, in fact, instrumental in winning wars, but who seldom, if ever, receives any personal glory; being too highly-placed and too behind-the-lines to get any glory for personally leading others into battle (let alone throwing herself into battle,) but still too low to win any acclaim as the admiral or general in charge of a theater of operation.

She's frustrated because Jardin is doing the kinds of thing her heart is telling her she should be doing, should have been doing sixty years ago. She's irritated because everyone she knew sixty years ago who actually did behave like Jardin is dead, because that's what happens to people who buck the rules and play at hero during a war with a ruthless, meat-grinder enemy. She's exasperated because he's actually doing things like bronco-busting dragon turtles, piloting absurd giant anthroform mecha into a fight with an enemy fleet (and winning,) taking command of a corvette in a crisis without any real claim to its command and somehow winding up with an entire fleet of the dinky little bastard ships following his orders, and now, apparently, he's arranged for a Umiak Superheavy and its escorts to be captured by an entire navy which combined shouldn't have been a match for it alone in a stand-up knock-down fight.

She's irritated because she's Happy Hogan and he's Tony Stark. She does what she should do, and all it gets her is mediocrity; importance, to be sure she is an important, highly-skilled, experienced and educated flag officer, but not the kind of importance that gets you acclaim, just the kind of importance where, if you suddenly die, people notice a distinct dip in performance and replace you when they trace it back to your absence. Meanwhile, Jardin is running around doing things that should get him killed; any number of the things he's done should have gotten him killed, yet somehow he seems to always be able to cheat death and pull an amazing, mind-blowing victory out of the jaws of the cold grinding of inevitable defeat.


Or at least, that's how I see it.
(The sexual frustration may or may not be a part of it. But it's definitely all that stuff above, too, especially the deep-down envy of his youth, dynamism, and the fact that he's actually on a bridge, however small a bridge, ordering crew around, and they're following his orders.)


Thu Jun 23, 2016 2:50 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Hey, this is a fan-fic. Sexual tensions should never be actively excluded.
There may nothing happen (and if you remember, she is easily 70 years older than Alexander), and there may be absolutely no intention by either sides, but there is no need to write so.

Leave such things to the minds of the reader. Makes for better stories.

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Thu Jun 23, 2016 5:13 am
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Wait, dragon turtles?

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Thu Jun 23, 2016 1:57 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Carl Miller wrote:
Wait, dragon turtles?


Read saint of m's original post at the top. Jardin was doing some cultural liasing with the Barsam when a Dragon Turtle, which I am personally unfamiliar with but which I imagine (from the description of how Fragile Storm, a Loroi naval commander, both recognized them instantly and mused that it would ordinarily take a main battle tank to put one down,) is some kind of huge, armored land-beast, very tough, and dangerous. And he apparently leapt right atop it and steered it off a ravine, Aragorn-on-the-worg style.


Thu Jun 23, 2016 2:15 pm
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Post Re: What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
ShadowDragon8685 wrote:
Carl Miller wrote:
Wait, dragon turtles?


Read saint of m's original post at the top. Jardin was doing some cultural liasing with the Barsam when a Dragon Turtle, which I am personally unfamiliar with but which I imagine (from the description of how Fragile Storm, a Loroi naval commander, both recognized them instantly and mused that it would ordinarily take a main battle tank to put one down,) is some kind of huge, armored land-beast, very tough, and dangerous. And he apparently leapt right atop it and steered it off a ravine, Aragorn-on-the-worg style.


More or less. I was thinking more cowboy on a steroyde infused bull, but same effect. As for the creature, I made it up. Though there are some mythological creatures that fall into that title in far Eastern myth (and the thing that taught Ang Energy Bending in Avatar: The Last Air Bender), so far we haven't been given much on the wildlife on most of the planets here, so I made a predator that is what you think it would be when you mix a turtle with a typical dragon.


Thu Jun 23, 2016 9:33 pm
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