How would you even know, if you don't read shit like Pournelle that multiple people here recommend to you?
I haven't read the whole thread, just a few pages here and there, but all I see is a bunch of stolen ideas. Not that that's a bad thing, it's all that Star Wars was. But what makes that stuff work is actual clever writing. You know: story, narrative, dialog, humor, pathos. A wall of Post-It's of cool techno ideas does not a story make.
It's a genre, there are tropes, themes, styles.
mil sci fi fans want realistic as possible military sci fi, they don't want the wheel reinvented
I'm more of a producer, I have a vision for a movie franchise, I lay out the vision.
The producer usually writes the treatment. Movies are collaboration.
If there are writers who like your vision, then you collab.
Captain Clement Vann Rogers had been Callsign Cock One for seven years in space. United States Space Force officer commissioned from the Space Force Academy Colorado Springs Colorado. Mother, father, sister at the grad parade. Nuclear Family. 1,543,820,796 kilometers away according to the Nav. Mailbox full of letters. 333 letters from family according to the Admin. Didn't read em. Birthday's, Christmas, How was your day?. How was your day. Every day is a gift, Momma. Promise I'll write. When I get liberty. When I get a minute, when kingdom comes.
To be Cock One was to be bonded to a sixty foot man shaped war machine with a Tokamak heart and sinews of carbon nanotube. Exoskeleton on steroids. Wearable warship. Fighting Cock. Named for the venerable 67th Fighter Squadron. Motto ; Bring it On, We'll Keep Coming. Soulless Machine. Made in America. Lockheed Martin Northrop Grumman. Fort Worth Texas Gunfighter.
Not all alone though. This truck is built for two. Ghost in the machine. Betty. Man's gotta have a Waifu to pass the time with, AI company is company. Company is company. Space is a lonely place. In space nobody can hear you cryin, son. Bouncin' Betty was his second marriage. Bitchin' Betty was Waifu to another man now. Probably on the couch together making out right now. Watching old movies together. Better not be jacking off on that Waifu, new guy.
Bouncin' Betty was her mother's daughter, no doubt. Whole lotta fun. Still kinda dumb though. Hot and fresh out of the lab at Lawrence Livermore, full of piss n' vinegar. Dial it back, Betty, relax in the saddle. You'll be getting decorated soon enough, don't worry, kid.
"Hey, Betts, what's up? You awake?" Rogers floated relaxed in the rest bay. Sensor Fusion scrolled past his eyes by contact lens HUD. "I'm always awake, sugar, Algorithms never sleep" Betty's Southron drawl warmed into his head by bone induction, felt like she was right behind him. "Orwellian Panopticon" Rogers muttered.
"Now, sugar, that would be unconstitutional, according to the fourth amendment of the . . . " Rogers cut her off."Relax, darlin, just teasin', socialization skills, member them?" Rogers pushed off the floor and floated up the tunnel from the rest bay to the flight deck "Sarcasm one oh one."
"Copy that, Cock One. Have you read your mail yet? Betty pressed. Here she goes again, Rogers winced. "No, Betty, I have not." Rogers arrived on the flight deck and strapped into the g-chair. The AI made a sigh but left it hanging. "Let's not start this again, gimme a sitrep" Rogers switched to tactical situational awareness in the VR construct.
"If I had any contact, I'd have let you know, Cock One" Betty was sulking now. "Wanna watch a movie?" Rogers still trying to get off the family line of questioning. "No thanks" Betty clipped. Pouty Time. "Okay, just play some Country & Western music then, woman, get out of my shit" Two can play the pouting game Rogers didn't add.
"Aye Aye, sir" Betty clipped off curtly. The music came on without further ado.
Last edited by Smitty-48 on Fri Nov 01, 2019 2:36 am, edited 9 times in total.
We need space jews because they have plagued us for six million years. I see no reason they won't in the future. We also need good goyim like the British Empire to provide muscle for them. Look at the industrial revolution, it was only through the ingenuity of the Anglo race that they managed to conquer half the world. Jews played their part in that in their masonic halls we need to see what they are going to do going forward when the greatest golem ever was created.
"Fighting Cock, Fighting Cock, TACAMO, contact, stand to, message traffic, prepare to copy!"
Cock One snapped out of sleep, adrenaline dump, cold soda in the veins. Betty was all business, fully tactical now, calm, but he could hear the excitement there, she was jacked up, not a drill, real deal. "Fighting Cock, acknowledged, send traffic" Rogers entered the VR construct as the data packet sprung to life around him. The void of rocks and stars overlaid with a symphony of symbology and coded references.
"TACAMO, contact, unknown callsigns, references inboxed, no squawk, stand to, set DEFCON 3, five minutes notice to move, how copy?" Betty rattled off the contact report from TACAMO in her own voice in Cock One's head. "Fighting Cock, loud and clear, set DEFCON 3, alert five, standing by" Rogers commenced battle procedure in VR.
Rogers assumed the position, arms raised, as the spacesuit pants yanked up and torso dropped down from above. The suit adjusted itself to him, with that done, the g-seat inflated, pressing the suited astronaut immobile. The dimmed sleep lights had momentarily gone full bright in the white featureless compartment, then went red light to visually reference the alert.
Rogers went limp as he entered fully immersive VR, the g-seat rotating him into an upright position in the now red chamber. An IV needle poked itself up his arm, pupils dilating as a cocktail of pharmaceuticals washed into his head. The suit helmet rapidly filling with pink gelatin, the drugs suppressing his gag and drowning reflexes as he inhaled the breathable liquid.
Fully immersed, Cock One floated in the void, Fighting Cock and he now one. Eyelids shut in the aerogel, fingers twitching in his suit gloves as he manipulated data in the virtual construct. In the cold of space, the massive hands of the android mimicked the movement. No longer speaking by mouth rogers interfaced cybernetic with the ship. "Status?"
"Preflight checklist complete, all in the green, confirm?" Betty was back to her own tone, no longer speaking for TACAMO. Rogers always left the key's in the ignition, the analog safety lock which could override an AI gone rogue by whatever means. No sense doubting your Waifu, if Betty was hallucinating this, they were screwed either way. "Confidence is high, battle procedure complete, all in the green, go at throttle up" Rogers gave back
"Go at throttle up!" Betty sang delighted. Rogers commenced a range of motion check on his now robotic limbs, he wasn't flying Fighting Cock anymore, he was Fighting Cock now. "Cock One, Cock's Out, Bring It On, We'll Keep Coming" Rogers sent the regimental motto.
"Stir up thy strength, O Lord, and come and help us; for Thou givest not always the battle to the strong, but canst save by many or by few." Betty recited the battle prayer. "Amen" Rogers viewed the symbology indicating four inbounds to his one. Four to one. In tough. "They've come to snuff the rooster" Rogers forgetting himself in cyber, everything he thought out loud, Betty heard now.
Newcomer was unhappy.
Unhappy and drunk.
The Legion hadn't seen real action in over a year. Worse than that, they had been stuck on Earth acting as policemen in Algeria.
He hated Earth and he hated these fucking rag heads the most.
There wasn't enough blood being spilled in this Crusade for Sgt Newcomer.
The rumours about a deployment in space were all that kept him going now.
The return to an off-Earth role was seen as the end of the punishment after the incident on Mars. The Legion had served its time in the sin bin and was coming back...
...but right now, stuck on leave 500 miles from the lines he was unhappy. Unhappy and drunk.
For legal reasons, we are not threatening to destroy U.S. government property with our glorious medieval siege engine. But if we wanted to, we could. But we won’t. But we could.
