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mllaneza
Apr 28, 2007

Veteran, Bermuda Triangle Expeditionary Force, 1993-1952




Kchama posted:

Honestly I don't know a ton about naval stuff but I'm willing to try and research some. And I do appreciate any information about the differences.

I guess he does just kind of half-rear end everything.

This will make you completely conversant on WW1 at sea, https://smile.amazon.com/Fighting-Great-War-Sea-Technology-ebook/dp/B00SGC4WYY/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Norman Friedman has dug deep into USN and RN naval architecture archives and gotten talented people to draw ship diagrams for the resultant books. Scope out what he's published and grab a copy of something that interests you. His two volumes on British cruisers are fantastic reading for the naval geek.

DK Brown is another authoritative author. He was a Constructor for the Royal Navy and has not only designed ships that went to sea, but also written books on how the RN fleet developed from pre-1860 to post-1945

Try this for a start,

https://smile.amazon.com/Grand-Fleet-Warship-Development-1906-1922-ebook/dp/B00ONZQ7BY/ref=sr_1_5


edit:

In honor of Honor being given a command of an entirely theoretical warship, we presemt HMS Polyphemus, the only Torpedo Ram ever built.:

mllaneza fucked around with this message at 09:01 on Dec 17, 2019

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90s Cringe Rock
Nov 29, 2006
:gay:
T. R. E. A. M.

mllaneza
Apr 28, 2007

Veteran, Bermuda Triangle Expeditionary Force, 1993-1952




90s Cringe Rock posted:

T. R. E. A. M.

Yes. Yes they do.

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





The weird thing is that Honor is upset about being chosen to command an experimental prototype vessel which I don't think they hand out to just anyone.

Also the "missiles with penetration aids" is incredibly awful.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

TheGreatEvilKing posted:

The weird thing is that Honor is upset about being chosen to command an experimental prototype vessel which I don't think they hand out to just anyone.

Also the "missiles with penetration aids" is incredibly awful.

Everyone treats it as some sort of punishment to be the one trusted to make an experimental prototype vessel work. Also, it's time for the next chapter!

On Basilisk Station Chapter 3

Time for more "Admiral Hemphill Is All Evil In This World". Get use to this sort of thing. Pretty much every domestic foe Honor gets is incompetent and/or evil. Usually both.

Everyone sees how awesome Honor is posted:

"General signal from Flag, Ma'am. 'Preparative Baker-Golf- Seven-Niner.'"

Honor nodded acknowledgment of Lieutenant Webster's report without raising her eyes from her display. She'd expected the signal from the moment Admiral D'Orville's Aggressors settled on their final approach vector, and Seven-Niner was, in a very real sense, her personal creation. Admiral Hemphill's ops officer probably wouldn't see it that way, but Captain Grimaldi, Hemphill's chief of staff, had realized what Honor was up to and supported her hints and deferential suggestions with surprising subtlety. He'd even given her a grin of approval after the final captains' briefing, which had led Honor into a fundamental re-evaluation of him, despite his position in Horrible Hemphill's camp. Not that it took a mental giant to realize that no conventional approach would let a light cruiser, whatever its armament, survive to reach attack range of a hostile battle fleet.

Honor knows he's a good guy because despite being the dumbest stupidest person in history's chief of staff, he helped her out. Which is fair, I guess. But lol at the fact that she apparently came up with a completely unique signal or something. What's Seven-Niner? Can't tell you. It isn't mentioned in the rest of the chapter and there's no real context for me.

Hiding a ship posted:

There were only so many options for a commander faced by a normal-space action inside the hyper limit of a star. It was relatively simple to hide even a capital ship (at longer ranges, anyway) by simply shutting down her impellers and dropping off the enemy's passive scanners, but the impeller drive wasn't magic. Even at the five hundred-plus gravities a destroyer or light cruiser could manage, it took time to generate respectable vector changes, so hiding by cutting power was of strictly limited utility. After all, it did no good to hide if the enemy went charging away from you at fifty or sixty percent of light-speed, and you couldn't hide if you accelerated in pursuit.

All of which meant an admiral simply couldn't conceal her maneuvers from an opponent without risking loss of contact. And since hiding was normally pointless, that left only two real options: meet the enemy in a head-on, brute power clash, or try misdirection by showing him something that wasn't quite what he thought it was. Given Admiral Hemphill's material-oriented prejudices, it had taken all of Honor's persuasiveness to build any misdirection at all into the battle plan, for Lady Sonja believed in massing overwhelming firepower and simply smashing away until something gave, which at least had the virtue of simplicity.

Admiral Hemphill is a big dumb dummyhead posted:

All of which meant an admiral simply couldn't conceal her maneuvers from an opponent without risking loss of contact. And since hiding was normally pointless, that left only two real options: meet the enemy in a head-on, brute power clash, or try misdirection by showing him something that wasn't quite what he thought it was. Given Admiral Hemphill's material-oriented prejudices, it had taken all of Honor's persuasiveness to build any misdirection at all into the battle plan, for Lady Sonja believed in massing overwhelming firepower and simply smashing away until something gave, which at least had the virtue of simplicity.

Without Grimaldi's support, it was unlikely a lowly commander, even one specially selected to command Hemphill's secret weapon, could have convinced the admiral, but that was fine with Honor. Admiral D'Orville knew Hemphill as well as anyone else, and the last thing he'd expect from her was sneakiness. If the Defenders could mislead him into misinterpreting what he saw, so much the better; if they couldn't, they lost very little of importance. Only Fearless.

I'm glad that the person whose entire job is to develop tactics from new weapons seems to only have one tactic up her sleeve. This is surely reasonable and isn't just here to make us all hate Hemphill even more for unduly holding Honor The Great back.

Techy stuff posted:

Admiral of the Green Sebastian D'Orville frowned over his own plot aboard the superdreadnought HMS King Roger, then glanced at the visual display. Visuals were useless for coordinating battles at deep-space ranges, but they were certainly spectacular. D'Orville's ships were charging ahead at almost a hundred and seventy thousand kilometers per second—just under .57 c—and the starfield in the forward screens was noticeably blue-shifted. But King Roger raced along between the inclined "roof" and "floor" of her impeller wedge, and the effect of a meter-deep band in which local gravity went from zero to over ninety-seven thousand MPS2 grabbed photons like a lake of glue and bent the strongest energy weapon like flimsy wire. Stars seen through a stress band like that red-shifted radically and displaced their images by a considerable margin in direct vision displays, though knowing exactly how powerful the gravity field was made it fairly simple for the computers to compensate and put them back where they belonged.

But what was possible for the generating warship was impossible for its foes. Civilian impeller drives generated a single stress band in each aspect; military impeller drives generated a double band and filled the space between them with a sidewall, for good measure. Hostile sensors might be able to analyze the outermost band, but they couldn't get accurate readings on the inner ones, and that was why no one could target something on their far side.

Lot of :words: here, to be honest. Not a lot of to say about it besides whatever minimal insight it gives about the tech. There's more talk from D'Orville's POV gloating about how Hemphill is screwed as her dreadnoughts have hosed off and her main forces are sitting ducks without them. It then cuts back to Honor's POV for more lefty bashing.

Wait, what are penetration aids, anyways? posted:

The first missiles went out as the range dropped. Not a lot of them—the chances of a hit at this distance were slight, and not even capital ships could pack in an inexhaustible supply of them—but enough to keep the other side honest.

And enough to give any good Liberal or Progressive a serious case of the hives, Honor thought, watching them go. Each of those projectiles massed just under seventy-five tons and cost upward of a million Manticoran dollars, even without warheads or penaids. No one would be fool enough to use weapons that could actually get through and damage their targets, but the Fleet had steadfastly refused every political pressure to abandon live-fire exercises. Computer simulations were invaluable, and every officer and rating of whatever branch spent long, often grueling hours in the simulators, but actual firings were the only way to be sure the hardware really worked. And, expensive or not, live-fire exercises taught the missile crews things no simulation could.

So missiles cost over a million bucks for 75 tons, without any of the important stuff. Whatever penetration aids are, anyways. I actually can't remember them ever being explained, and instead they get mentioned more like a buzzword rather than anything.

The book then gets to Honor's one weakness ever. This is it, what every Peep (that's Havenite Scum for you at home) has been salivating to hear for centuries now: How to defeat Honor Harrington! Let's hear this:

"The big weakness! posted:

But she had other things to worry about as Admiral D'Orville charged towards her, and worry she did, for Honor wasn't precisely the RMN's best mathematician. Despite aptitude tests which regularly said she ought to be an outstanding number-cruncher, her Academy performance scores had steadfastly refused to live up to that potential. In point of fact, she'd nearly flunked out of multi-dimensional math in her third form, and while she'd graduated in the top ten percent overall, she'd also held the embarrassing distinction of standing two-hundred-thirty-seventh (out of a class of two hundred and forty-one) in Mathematics.

Her math scores hadn't done much for her own selfconfidence at the time—and they'd driven her instructors to distraction. The profs had known she could handle the math. The aptitude tests said so, her tac simulator scores had blown the roof off the curve—which wasn't exactly the mark of a mathematical moron—and her maneuvering scores had been just as high. Her kinesthetic sense was acute, she could solve multi-unit three-dimensional vector intercepts in her head (as long as she didn't think about what she was doing), and none of that ability had shown up in her applied mathematics grades. The only person it never seemed to have bothered was Admiral Courvosier—only he'd been Captain Courvosier, then—and he'd ridden her mercilessly until she came to believe in herself, whatever the grades said. Give her a real-time, real-world maneuver to worry about and she was fine, but even today she was a poor astrogator—and she could worry herself into panic attacks just thinking about math tests. Which, she knew, was the reason for her present, carefully hidden jitters; she'd had too much time to worry about today's maneuver.

... Oh. So her weakness is that somehow she got bad grades on tests despite being the smartest person in the school. Okay. Like, seriously, this is just a humble brag. Get hosed, book. It continues talking about how she was the best who ever was before abruptly changing POV in a way that confused me for a moment.

Hell of a way to change POV posted:

But in this instance, she'd had plenty of time to worry about it ahead of time, and telling herself—truthfully—that only the Aggressors' closing speed made it time-critical hadn't helped tremendously. Still, Lieutenant Venizelos, her tactical officer, had run the numbers five times, and Lieutenant Commander McKeon had double-checked them. And Honor had made herself check McKeon's calculations a dozen times in the privacy of her quarters. Now she watched the chrono counting off the last, fleeting seconds and double-checked her engineering displays. Everything on the green.

"You know, Sir," Captain Lewis murmured, "there's something a little weird about this."

"Weird? How so?" D'Orville asked absently, watching the missile traces streaking towards Hemphill's wall of battle.

The Aggressor flagship realizes something is up because Hemphill isn't going in guns blazing:

gently caress off book posted:

Sonja was a great believer in concentration of fire—it was one of her few real tactical virtues, in D'Orville's opinion—and given her numerical disadvantage, she ought to be pouring it on, hoping for a few lucky kills to decrease the odds. Only she wasn't, and the admiral's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.

Which really, gently caress you book. HEMPHILL IS A DUMB IDIOT HONOR IS A GENIUS is just obnoxious like this. They decide to keep an eye out for anything odd when it abruptly cuts back to Honor's point of view just as suddenly, and then immediately cuts BACK to the Aggressor's point of view after a paragraph.

So it works. posted:

Captain Lewis's frantic warning was far too late, and the range was far too short to do anything about it. Admiral D'Orville had barely begun to turn towards him when a crimson light glared on King Roger's main status board, and damage alarms screamed as the vastly understrength grav lance smashed into the superdreadnought's port sidewall. It was far too weak to inflict actual generator damage, but the computers noted it and obediently flashed their failure warning—just as an incredible salvo of equally understrength energy torpedoes exploded against the theoretically nonexistent sidewall.

So the gravlance works amazingly and turns out to only need tactics and properly develop ships to use it. Honor cheers and the Fearlessfucks off at maximum speed.

The Aggressors' Admiral is mad that he got beaten by Dumbo Hemphill but figures it must have been someone else behind it.

quote:

Admiral D'Orville clenched his fists, then sighed and made himself lean back in his chair with a wintry smile. Sonja was going to be impossible to live with for months, and he could scarcely blame her. Few of his ships would be "destroyed" before the wall got itself sorted out and altered course, but enough were already crippled to even the odds . . . and who knew when her "detached units" would suddenly appear, as well?

It was all most un-Sonja-like, but it had certainly been effective, and Admiral Sebastian D'Orville made a mental note to find out exactly whose light cruiser that had been. Anyone who could bring that little maneuver off was someone to watch, and he intended to tell him so in person.

Assuming he could keep himself from strangling the sneaky bastard long enough to congratulate him.

And that's the chapter. It's pretty drat annoying how not a single chapter can go by without tooting Honor's horn. Also really the plot has nowhere actually started yet. This is more or less just puffery of Honor for a good while.

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Kchama posted:


Honor knows he's a good guy because despite being the dumbest stupidest person in history's chief of staff, he helped her out. Which is fair, I guess. But lol at the fact that she apparently came up with a completely unique signal or something. What's Seven-Niner? Can't tell you. It isn't mentioned in the rest of the chapter and there's no real context for me.


It means "We are going with plan BG79". In other words, they worked up a bunch of possible plans ahead of time, and just tell the other commanders which one to use.

jng2058
Jul 17, 2010

We have the tools, we have the talent!





Kchama posted:

Time for more "Admiral Hemphill Is All Evil In This World". Get use to this sort of thing. Pretty much every domestic foe Honor gets is incompetent and/or evil. Usually both.

Spoilers for the end of the series: Of course, since Manticore ends up conquering the known universe (for all intents and purposes) almost entirely based on their technological superiority, particularly in the missiles that "Horrible Hemphill" designed, one can argue that it's really Hemphill, not Harrington, who deserves the most credit for Manticare's ultimate triumph....

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

jng2058 posted:

Spoilers for the end of the series: Of course, since Manticore ends up conquering the known universe (for all intents and purposes) almost entirely based on their technological superiority, particularly in the missiles that "Horrible Hemphill" designed, one can argue that it's really Hemphill, not Harrington, who deserves the most credit for Manticare's ultimate triumph....

I've been hammering the whole "Stupid Hemphill" thing in hard for literally this reason. It's just amazing.

Gnoman posted:

It means "We are going with plan BG79". In other words, they worked up a bunch of possible plans ahead of time, and just tell the other commanders which one to use.

I wondered if it was something like this but the emphasis on the 'Seven-Niner' on its own just made me wonder if I missed something.

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





Alright, you got me. Let's do this!

The Safehold series really needs no introduction. Weber took the third book of a trilogy he'd already written - that actually didn't tie into the plot at all - got drunk and watched a bunch of Halo cutscene complilation videos, and decided to write a work supposedly about religious strife that's at best meaningless and at worst a glorification of how weapons technology entitles you to rule (more on this later). It is of course atrociously written and exists because Weber displays the mentality of a 12 year old fantasizing about being a dictator.

We will be reading Off Armageddon Reef. There's not much reason to read the rest.

Prologue

The prologue starts off with this:

The beginning of my madness posted:

July 2, 2378
Crestwell's Star, HD 63077A
Terran Federation

This immediately jumps out as a cinematic device clumsily transplanted into a literary context, so you all know what we're in for!

Anyway this interlude is of Captain Mateus Fofão being awakened because a fleet of space warships appeared out of nowhere. They are alien vessels. A lot of fiction has been written about first contact, and this would be a good time for Weber to show off his writing chops and depict something truly alien. It's harder because things like crystal ships and organic technology have become such cliches, but there's a lot of unexplored space and science fiction is supposed to be about the weird. How do we know these are alien vessels?

Weber posted:

"Skipper," Lieutenant Gabriela Henderson, the heavy cruiser's tactical officer, had the watch, and her normally strained contralto was strained and harsh, "we've got bogies. Lots of bogies. They just dropped out of hyper twelve light-minutes out, and they're headed in-system at over four hundred gravities.

Fofão's jaw clenched. Four hundred gravities was twenty percent higher than the best Federation compensators could manage. Which pretty conclusively demonstrated that whoever these people were, they weren't Federation units.

Oh. We have a tense standoff with the aliens which is interrupted by a David Weber infodump about the escape courier dispatched to let Earth know they ran into some aliens. It turns out these are aliens theorized to exist after the Federation found an alien civilization wiped out by external aggressors but now here they are!

For reference, this is also nearly the same as the plot of Mutineer's Moon, except the evil aliens wiped out the forerunner human empire that settled Earth. Let no one accuse Weber of creativity or imagination.

Fofão attempts to communicate with the aliens as they warp in a massive battlefleet, then comes to the horrific realization that the genocidal aliens are, in fact, genocidal.

Drink every time you read the word "missile" posted:

They can't possibly expect to actually hit an evading starship at that range. That was his first thought as the thousands of incoming missile icons suddenly speckled his plot. But they can sure as hell hit a planet, can't they? his brain told him an instant later.

He stared at that hurricane of missiles, and knew what was going to happen. Swiftsure's defenses could never have stopped more than a tithe of that torrent of destruction, and a frozen corner of his mind wondered what they were armed with. Fusion warheads? Antimatter? Chemical or biological agents? Or perhaps they were simply kinetic weapons. With the prodigious acceleration they were showing, they'd have more than enough velocity to do the job with no warheads at all.

He throws his ship at the aliens and we cut away to the Excalibur in 2421.

The Excalibur is leading a task force and we meet our first protagonist, who I'm sure we'll all hate by the time we finish this.

Yet Another Tactical Genius posted:

Lieutenant Commander Nimue Alban was a very junior officer indeed, especially for an antigerone society, to be suggesting to a four-star admiral. however respectfully, that his judgment might be less than infallible. Pei Kau-shi felt absolutely no temptation to point that out to her, however. First, because despite her youth she was one of the more brilliant tactical officers the Terran Federation Navy had ever produced. Second, because if anyone had earned the right to second-guess Admiral Pei, it was Lieutenant Commander Alban.

Pei IS said four-star admiral. He is the last four-star admiral of the Terran Federation. The evil genocidal aliens have wiped out the Terran Federation, and the remnants of the Federation fleet are mounting a last-ditch effort to stall the aliens to get one last colony ship away, and we get a last tearful goodbye.

David Weber, Space Anthropologist posted:

"That's why I wanted to take this chance to tell you." She looked directly into his eyes. "It's been an honor and a privilege to serve under you, Sir. I regret nothing which has happened since you selected me for your staff."

"That ...means a great deal to me, Nimue", Pei [Kau-shi's brother] said very softly. Like his brother, he was a traditionalist, and it was not the way of his culture to be emotionally demonstrative, but he know she saw the pain in his eyes. "And may I also say." he added, "that I am deeply grateful for all the many services you have performed."

The last Terran fleet prepares its ambush, and we get this exchange.

You didn't build that posted:

"You know," he said, turning away from the display to face Lieutenant Commander Alban and Captain Joseph Thiessen, his chief of staff,"we came so close to kicking these people's asses. Another fifty years-seventy-five at the outside-and we could have taken them, 'star-spanning empire' or no.

"I think that's probably a little overoptimistic,Sir," Thiessen replied after a moment. "We never did find out how big their empire actually is, you know".

"It wouldn't have mattered." Pei shook his head sharply. "We're in a virtual dead heat with them technologically right now, Joe. Right now. And how old are their ships?"

"Some of them are brand new, Sir," Nimue Alban replied for the chief of staff. "But I take your point," she continued, and even Thiessen nodded almost unwillingly.

Pei didn't press the argument. There was no reason to, not now. Although, in some ways, it would have been an enormous relief to tell someone besides Nimue what was really aboutto happen. But he couldn't do that to Thiessen. The chief of staff was a good man, one who believed absolutely in the underlying premises of Operation Ark. Like every other man and woman under Pei's command, he was about to give his life to ensure that Operation Ark succeeded, and the admiral couldn't tell him that his own commanding officer was part of a plot against the people charged with making that success happen.

"Do you think we gave them enough of a shock that they may start actively innovating, Sir?"

It turns out the Gbaba have a stagnant culture that has somehow lasted eight or nine thousand years, and we get to one of Weber's favorite themes, which is that if you invent a better way to kill people you deserve to rule. Seriously. The Gbaba here are in error not because they are violent and evil, but because their culture is stagnant and they refuse to change.

I want you all to remember this theme because it's the core of Safehold, Honor Harrington, and that lovely fantasy series he wrote about orbital bombardment wizards.

We get two pages explaining that the Gbaba were really dumb and didn't innovate.

Oh boy! posted:

That suggested a level of cultural stagnation which even Pei's ancestral China, at its most conservative rejection of the outside world, never approached. One which made even ancient Egypt seem like a hotbed of innovation. It was impossible for Pet to conceive of any sentient beings who could go that long without any major advances.

Turns out the humans bled the Gbaba dry but were worn down by their nigh-infinite starships that spared no effort to wipe out everyone. Pei and Alban are plotting to disrupt the plans of some people we haven't met - including someone named Langhorne - who are part of the ark operation. As the fleet moves to battle we get one more timeskip, to

Weber posted:

September 7, 2499
Lake Pei Enclave
Continent of Haven
Safehold

Chapter Opening posted:

"Grandfather! Grandfather, come quickly! It's an angel!"

A young boy runs to get his grandfather because an angel is coming as foretold by a signal light. It's only a lesser angel, but the entire town gathers because, well, divine revelation. We are told the grandfather is one of the last remaining "Adams" because he was created directly by God. We get a clumsy exposition that "Mother Church" is the real power in the town, as well as a very curious prayer.

And Aeris will lead us to the Promised Land posted:

"May Langhorne bless and keep you always in God's ways and laws until the Day Awaited comes to us all,"

Anyway, a hovercraft shows up and drops the angel on a special, angel-only platform. The townsfolk react like any good easily manipulated religious person found in genre's bad Christian analogues.

It's a cult! posted:

All across the town square, people went to their knees in reverence and awe, and Timothy did the same. His heart sang with joy as he beheld the angel standing on the raised platform at the very center of the square. That platform was reserved solely and only for moments like this. No mortal human foot could be permitted to profane its surface, other than those of the consecrated priesthood responsible for ritually cleansing it and maintaining it in permanent readiness for moments like this.

There's a short section on the Church's bullshit explanation of why the "angels" age and die and the angel prepares to deliver a message. Also, "solely and only" is hilariously bad prose, but no editor is gonna kill this awful cash cow, are they?

We cut to Pei Kau-yung who is furiously contemplating that the angels and religious bullshit are all a scam made by the colony's administrator - Eric Langhorne - as he witnesses an argument between the ruling council. See, Pei Shan-wei is upset with the religious bullshit and is arguing that no matter how dumb the fake religion and brainwashing are, they won't prevent humanity from creating new technologies and she argues that the culture needs to remember the Gbaba. This gets shot down by Langhorne and the chief psychologist, who pulled a coup to mind control everyone into worshiping them as "archangels."

If this sounds familiar it's because it's literally the same scenario as the third book of Mutineer's Moon, where an extremely strawmanned church worships an orbital defense battery as god and bans all technology to avoid evil aliens.

Anyway, the colonists spent the entire voyage being mind controlled to avoid technology, and, uh

This is really going to be the context for our science vs religion debate, isn't it? posted:

The sleeping colonists had volunteered to have memories of a false life implanted. They hadn't volunteered to be programmed to believe Operation Ark's command staff were gods.

It wasn't the only change Langhorne had made, of course. He and Bédard had done their systematic best to preclude the possibility of any reemergence of advanced technology on Safehold. They'd deliberately abandoned the metric system, which Kau-yung suspected had represented a personal prejudice on Langhorne's part. But they'd also eliminated any memory of Arabic numerals, or algebra, in a move calculated to emasculate any development of advanced mathematics, just as they had eliminated any reference to the scientific method and reinstituted a Ptolemaic theory of the universe. They'd systematically destroyed the tools of scientific inquiry, then concocted their religion as a means of ensuring that it never reemerged once more, and nothing could have been better calculated to outrage someone with Shan-wei's passionate belief in freedom of the individual and of thought.

It turns out that no one can stop this because of the depraved evil known as "politics". All the people who like technology and hate false gods conveniently cluster into one enclave, which then gets bombarded from orbit by an automated orbital weapons system while the angel in the town delivers the message that "Shan-wei has fallen."

Oh, you'd think an orbital bombardment system would be the bad technology that draws aliens? Nah. The humans have near-perfect stealth technology which they don't use because our villain is obsessed with setting himself up as god. Seriously.

A bit earlier posted:

The enormous transport, half again the size of the Federation's largest dreadnought, was at minimal power levels, with every one of her multiply redundant stealth systems operating at all times. A Gbaba scout ship could have been in orbit with her without detecting her unless it closed to within two or three hundred kilometers.

Thus we get the core conflict - the technology users against the stagnant, awful cultures who can't innovate (God, the language sounds like a consultant convention) who are set up to be easily defeatable straw men who love power and false teachings. There are no answers in this religion aside from obedience to a bunch of egomaniacs. It's not a good stand in for Christianity/Islam/what have you. It's just dumb.

But wait! It gets worse!

We do one last jump cut to Nimue who is waking up. She gets an infodump from Pei Kau-yung that she's dead and turned into a robot.

Deus ex Machina, literally posted:

If she'd been breathing, she might have inhaled in surprise. But she wasn't, because, as Pei had just said, she wasn't actually alive. She was a PICA, a Personality Integrated Cybernetic Avatar. And, a grimly amused little corner of her mind-if, of course, she could be said to actually have a mind-reflected, it was a top-of-the-line PICA, at that. A gift from Nimue Alban's unreasonably wealthy father.

We get an entire infodump on how the robot bodies work exactly like humans, because Weber is a bad writer who doesn't understand the need to actually keep things going when there's imaginary technologies to :sperg: about. It's longer than Pei's explanation that Langhorne and co set themselves up as false gods and purged all the dissidents. Anyway, Pei ended up purging all would-be gods and leaving a cache of technology behind for Nimue.

That's the prologue. If it seems badly written to set up the author's power fantasy, well...that's Weber in a nutshell.

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





Double post because things didn't seem synced on my end. Weber is still bad.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007
He at least sets things up in this prologue instead of "Here's some dudes you know nothing about in the void talking about poo poo you have no context for". He's progressed slightly as an author!

Khizan
Jul 30, 2013


Kchama posted:

So missiles cost over a million bucks for 75 tons, without any of the important stuff. Whatever penetration aids are, anyways. I actually can't remember them ever being explained, and instead they get mentioned more like a buzzword rather than anything.

They're devices used to aid missiles in penetrating the target's defenses. Decoys, stealth tech, ECM, etc.

90s Cringe Rock
Nov 29, 2006
:gay:
Lube.

Rockopolis
Dec 21, 2012

I MAKE FUN OF QUEER STORYGAMES BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH MY LIFE THAN MAKE OTHER PEOPLE CRY

I can't understand these kinds of games, and not getting it bugs me almost as much as me being weird
Man, I read a bunch of Harrington back in highschool. It's weird coming back to it. Never read Safehold, though.
Looking back, I had forgotten March Upcountry was a collab with Ringo, I thought it was with someone else. I don't really remember any particularly awful Ringo-isms, but all I really remember was that the first three seemed fine and the last one kind of dragged.

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Khizan posted:

They're devices used to aid missiles in penetrating the target's defenses. Decoys, stealth tech, ECM, etc.

That's how the term is used later in the series, but in the first two books it seems to be some kind of "get through the shields" function.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Gnoman posted:

That's how the term is used later in the series, but in the first two books it seems to be some kind of "get through the shields" function.

Yeah, this. I even looked up the wiki to see if I wasn't just being insane about that, and the wiki briefly mentions 'sidewall penetrators' too, but has nothing else.

I was asking what they were exactly because the mention of them implies that they aren't a normal part of the missile's workings. Like, it specifies that it's seperate from both the warhead and the rest of the missile, so I was trying to picture just what are they sticking on the missile that helps it pierce through shields.

I'm kind of surprised they haven't actually did a description of missiles when actually talking about them. Though, whatever it is, it doesn't seem like the regular missiles they have in the series that fire lasers.

Libluini
May 18, 2012

I gravitated towards the Greens, eventually even joining the party itself.

The Linke is a party I grudgingly accept exists, but I've learned enough about DDR-history I can't bring myself to trust a party that was once the SED, a party leading the corrupt state apparatus ...
Grimey Drawer

Kchama posted:

Yeah, this. I even looked up the wiki to see if I wasn't just being insane about that, and the wiki briefly mentions 'sidewall penetrators' too, but has nothing else.

I was asking what they were exactly because the mention of them implies that they aren't a normal part of the missile's workings. Like, it specifies that it's seperate from both the warhead and the rest of the missile, so I was trying to picture just what are they sticking on the missile that helps it pierce through shields.

I'm kind of surprised they haven't actually did a description of missiles when actually talking about them. Though, whatever it is, it doesn't seem like the regular missiles they have in the series that fire lasers.

Back when I was reading this cursed series, my thought was that penetration aids and "sidewall penetrators" are probably based on the same technology as grav lances, as that kind of thing doesn't tend to spring into existence fully formed. Logically, there must have been precursor-techs in use for quite some time before the first super-lances were made. In my head, I was imagining stuff like special missile warheads blasting out grav pulses to weaken sidewalls, or tinier versions of those same grav generators being spit out in addition to the laser rods of the conventional missiles and then being powered by the fusion bomb exploding, like the lasing rods themselves.

No idea how close I came to what Weber was thinking to what I just made up on the spot to replace his missing explanations, though. :shrug:

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Kchama posted:

I'm kind of surprised they haven't actually did a description of missiles when actually talking about them. Though, whatever it is, it doesn't seem like the regular missiles they have in the series that fire lasers.

At this point, they're probably wargaming with "contact" nuclear warheads. The more typical laser warheads (which are a real theoretical technology that the US tried to develop, and there are some hints that such a thing was successfully test-fired in one of the last underground nuclear test) are treated as a new thing at this point in the setting, and that fits with where "penaids" are used in the second book.

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





It sounds like a sex toy, which is appropriate as this is entirely the masturbatory fantasy of tech writers.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Gnoman posted:

At this point, they're probably wargaming with "contact" nuclear warheads. The more typical laser warheads (which are a real theoretical technology that the US tried to develop, and there are some hints that such a thing was successfully test-fired in one of the last underground nuclear test) are treated as a new thing at this point in the setting, and that fits with where "penaids" are used in the second book.

That does hold up to my memory. That's a bit why I'm surprised it's so ambiguous still when that'd be the perfect time to actually talk about the missile tech.


Libluini posted:

Back when I was reading this cursed series, my thought was that penetration aids and "sidewall penetrators" are probably based on the same technology as grav lances, as that kind of thing doesn't tend to spring into existence fully formed. Logically, there must have been precursor-techs in use for quite some time before the first super-lances were made. In my head, I was imagining stuff like special missile warheads blasting out grav pulses to weaken sidewalls, or tinier versions of those same grav generators being spit out in addition to the laser rods of the conventional missiles and then being powered by the fusion bomb exploding, like the lasing rods themselves.

No idea how close I came to what Weber was thinking to what I just made up on the spot to replace his missing explanations, though. :shrug:

I mean, that kind of stuff makes sense, I agree. It's possible it never came up became Weber did his best to memory-hole gravlances after this book. Yeah, that's right, the book entirely about Honor captaining a vessel with a prototype weapon? The weapon is never mentioned again, even when it'd make total sense. Because, simply put, fans liked the gravlance! So Weber hated it and got rid of it because fans kept pointing out how having one would have been SUPER useful in this situation or that.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007
You guys almost thought you were escaping today's chapter, huh? TOO BAD. Here it comes.

On Basilisk Station Chapter 4

Just put some milk and sugar in it. posted:

The ship-wide elation which had followed the "destruction" of Admiral D'Orville's flagship was noticeably absent as Honor watched her steward pour coffee. The rich aroma of the beverage filled the small briefing room's silence, but the cup Steward First Class MacGuiness placed at Honor's elbow contained hot cocoa. She never had understood how something that smelled as nice as coffee could taste so foul, and she wondered yet again if perhaps Manticoran coffee trees hadn't mutated somehow in their new environment. Such things happened, but she doubted that was the answer in this case, given the appalling relish with which most RMN officers imbibed the loathsome stuff.

I mostly posted this because... the answer is you put milk or sugar or whatever in it to dilute the bitterness, geez.

ANyways, after their stunning victory, they only succeeded twice more in eighteen exercises because the Aggressors made sure they could never do it again. Now, this is clearly just the author trying to shout "IT'D NEVER BE PRACTICAL AS A REAL WEAPON" and loads of humilitation gets heaped on Hemphill for being so STUPID as to use such an easily counterable weapon!

Hemphill Sux posted:

Lady Sonja had been livid at how easily her secret weapon (and, no doubt, hopes for advanced promotion) were countered once the other side knew about it, and her messages to Fearless's captain had descended from congratulatory to querulous to scathing . . . and downhill from there. She had to know it wasn't Honor's fault, but knowing didn't seem to make her any happier.

Let's be fair to Honor: Trying the exact same tactics over and over when your entire tactic relies on surprise isn't all that smart. The point of the gravlance is clearly to be the, to steal a term from wargaming, 'hidden powerfist'. The surprise weapon that utterly destroys you if you don't pay absolute attention to your enemies and their loadout. . So of course it wouldn't be the ultimate weapon when used openly and the enemies absolutely know when and where it's coming. I mean by Weber's reckoning, torpedo boats were useless piles of poo poo, I guess.

Anyways, the morale of the ship is plummeting and the crew is starting to hate Honor and thinking the first victory was just luck and well, she isn't really doing a good showing either way.

She has a meeting with her officers directly, even though this is traditionally the XO's job, and is another one of her Honor Is Better Than Everyone Else touch.

Long quote of all of the officers posted:

Lieutenant Commander McKeon faced her from the table's far end, tense and blank-faced, an enigma hiding some inner reserve that went beyond the maneuvers' disastrous outcome. Lieutenant Commander Santos, chief engineer and junior only to McKeon, sat expressionlessly at her right hand, eyes fixed on the blank screen of her memo pad as if to shut the rest of the briefing room away. Lieutenant Stromboli, the astrogator, fleshy, dark-browed, and physically powerful, sat hunched down in his chair like a child afraid to sulk. Dapper, slim Lieutenant Venizelos sat facing him, eyes unfocused, waiting with manifest resignation for the discussion to begin. Yet the resignation held an edge of bravado, almost defiance, as if the tactical officer dared her to blame him for Fearless's poor showing—and feared she did.

Captain Nikos Papadapolous sat beside Stromboli, meticulously neat in the green and black of the Royal Manticoran Marines, and, unlike the others, he seemed almost comfortable yet oddly detached. But, then, the Corps was a law unto itself in many ways, for Marines were always outsiders aboard ship. They were army troops in a naval setting and aware of the distinction, and unlike her naval personnel, Papadapolous's Marines had nothing for which to reproach themselves. They went where the ship went and did what they were told; if the effete Navy types who crewed it screwed up, that was their lookout, not the Corps'.

Surgeon Commander Lois Suchon faced Papadapolous across the table, and Honor tried not to feel a special dislike for Fearless's doctor. It was hard. Both of her own parents were physicians, and her father had reached Suchon's own rank before retiring, which meant Honor had a pretty fair notion of just how much help a good doctor could be. Suchon, on the other hand, was even more detached than Papadapolous. Doctors were specialists, not line officers in the chain of command, and the thin-faced, petulant Suchon seemed totally disinterested in anything beyond her sickbay and dispensary. Worse, she seemed to regard her responsibility for the crew's health as a sort of nagging inconvenience, and Honor found it very difficult to forgive any physician for that.

Her eyes swept past Suchon to the two officers flanking McKeon. Lieutenant Ariella Blanding, her supply officer, junior to every other officer present, looked as if she expected her captain to spring upon her at any moment, despite the fact that her department had performed flawlessly throughout. Blanding was a small woman, with a sweet, oval face and blond hair, but her eyes moved back and forth endlessly, like a mouse trying to watch too many cats.

Lieutenant Mercedes Brigham sat facing Blanding, as if she'd been placed deliberately to accentuate the contrast between them. Blanding was young and fair; Brigham was almost old enough to be Honor's mother, with dark, weathered-looking skin. She was Fearless's sailing master, a position that was being rapidly phased out of the service, but she seemed unconcerned by the fact. She'd never caught the attention to rise above lieutenant, yet her comfortable, lived-in face normally wore an air of quiet competence, though she had to know she would never advance beyond her present rank after so long in grade. And if she was as withdrawn as the others, at least she didn't seem physically afraid of her captain.

I kind of felt all this was a bit important as I don't think we're going to get any kind of reminder of who any of these people are. And for presumably characters who are gonna stick around the entire book, they have very thin descriptions. The most important detail out of all of this is that Honor's parents are physicians, which should also give a clue about Honor's background. It's mentioned earlier that she's 'of yeoman stock' and here we find out that both of her parents are physicans. So it's likely that her family is wealthy. And in fact, we find out that her family is VERY wealthy and much more important than the early books indicate.

There's a paragraph about how she wanted to shout at her officers but realize it'll just make things worse, and she's taken to leaving Nimitz her treecat back in her room. There's conversation about supplies, and Honor gets made at her XO for being rather crisp and frosty towards her, because of the aforementioned jealousy. Basically everything going wrong is because McKeon, the XO, is being a jerk. There's talk of a gravlance upgrade, but the POV switches to McKeon and ignores that.

He knows he's the jerk, too posted:

He watched Harrington's profile, and dull, churning resentment burned at the back of his throat like acid. The captain looked as calm and collected as she always did, spoke and listened as courteously as ever, and that only made him resent her more. He was a tactical officer himself by training. He knew precisely how impossible Harrington's task had been, yet he couldn't rid himself of a nagging suspicion that he could have done better at it than she. He certainly couldn't have done any worse, he thought spitefully, and felt himself flush guiltily.

drat it, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a professional naval officer, not some sort of jealous schoolboy! It was his job to support his captain, to make her ideas work, not to feel a corrosive satisfaction when they didn't, and his inability to overcome his personal feelings shamed him. Which, of course, only made them worse.

Santos finished her report, and Harrington turned with equal courtesy to Lieutenant Venizelos. That should have been another of McKeon's jobs. He was the one who ought to be keeping the meeting moving, bringing out the points he knew should be called to the captain's attention and subtly shoring up her authority. Instead, it was one more task he avoided, and he knew, deep inside, that he was painting himself into a corner. Habit would make it impossible for him to reclaim responsibilities he left undischarged long enough, and as Harrington came to believe, with cause, that she simply could not rely upon him, she would stop giving him the chance to prove she could.

Alistair McKeon knew where that would end. One of them would have to go, and it wouldn't be the captain. Nor should it be, he told himself with scathing, inherent honesty.

He's afraid of losing his XO job and possibility of ever being a captain, and is tempted to confess it all to Honor, who he knew would respong like a saint.

Like a saint posted:

He felt a sudden, terrible temptation to confess his feelings and his failures to the captain. To beg her to find a way through them for him. Somehow, he knew, those dark brown eyes would listen without condemning, that calm soprano would reply without contempt.

But that just makes him madder. POV back to Honor, and Comms Officers Webster shows up. Apparently this is later, with zero actual indication of that, as the scene transitions without anything to, well indicate that and McKeon's suddenly not in the room, nor are any of the officers. That's some real bad writing, there. In fact it seems like they're in Honor's personal room.

This is exactly how it is in my book posted:

And that, of course, was what made it impossible. It would be the final capitulation, the admission that Harrington deserved the command he had known from the start could not be his.

He ground his teeth together and stroked the cover of his memo pad in silence.

The attention signal chimed, and Honor pressed the com button.

"Communications Officer, Ma'am," the traditional Marine sentry announced crisply, and she felt an eyebrow rise.

"Enter," she invited, and the hatch hissed open to admit Lieutenant Samuel Houston Webster.

Webster is, by the way, the third cousin of the Duke of New Texas, a duchy in Manticore. Seriously. Whatever. He was the officer she liked the most, and he brings ill tidings. They have orders to a new station.

The worst place to ever be sent posted:

Basilisk Station. God, she knew she'd disappointed Hemphill, but the admiral must be even more upset than she'd thought!

She tells him to sent the info to the XO and other major officers, and well...

Gasp posted:

The Basilisk System picket wasn't a duty station—it was exile. Oblivion.

She starts to fall into despair, and uhh...

So it was actually a super plum and prestigious station but everyone is an idiot posted:

It wasn't as if being sent to Basilisk should be a disgrace. The system was of great and steadily growing economic value to the Kingdom, not to mention its strategic military importance. It was also Manticore's sole extra-system territorial possession, and that alone should have made it a prestigious assignment.

The Manticore System was a G0/G2 distant binary, unique in the explored galaxy in possessing three Earth-like planets: Manticore, Honor's own Sphinx, and Gryphon. Given that much habitable real estate, there'd never been much pressure, historically, for the Kingdom to expand into other systems, and for five T-centuries it hadn't.

Also some details on Manticore, nearly five chapters in.

Lots of dumb details posted:

It wasn't as if being sent to Basilisk should be a disgrace. The system was of great and steadily growing economic value to the Kingdom, not to mention its strategic military importance. It was also Manticore's sole extra-system territorial possession, and that alone should have made it a prestigious assignment.

The Manticore System was a G0/G2 distant binary, unique in the explored galaxy in possessing three Earth-like planets: Manticore, Honor's own Sphinx, and Gryphon. Given that much habitable real estate, there'd never been much pressure, historically, for the Kingdom to expand into other systems, and for five T-centuries it hadn't.

The commercial advantages were obvious, and the Junction's far-flung termini had become magnets for trade, all of which must pass through the central junction point (and Manticoran space) to take advantage of them. Manticore's tolls were among the lowest in the galaxy, but simple logistics meant they generated enormous total revenues, and the Kingdom served as a central warehousing and commercial node for hundreds of other worlds.

Yet logistics also made the Junction a threat. If multi-megaton freighters could pass through it, so could superdreadnoughts, and the economic prize it offered was sufficient to make for avaricious neighbors. Manticorans had known that for centuries, but they hadn't worried about it overmuch before the People's Republic of Haven become a threat.

But Haven had become a threat. After almost two T-centuries of deficit spending to shore up an increasingly insolvent welfare state, Haven had decided it had no choice but to turn conquistador to acquire the resources it needed to support its citizens in the style to which they had become accustomed, and the People's Navy had proven its capacity to do just that over the course of the last five decades. Haven already controlled one terminus of the Junction—Trevor's Star, conquered twelve T-years ago—and Honor had no doubt the "Republic" hungered to add the rest of them to its bag. Especially, she thought with a familiar chill, the central nexus, for without Manticore itself, the other termini were of strictly limited utility.

Which was why the Kingdom had annexed Basilisk following its discovery twenty-odd Manticoran years before. The G5 star's single habitable (if one used the term loosely) planet had complicated the decision, for it boasted a sentient native species, and the Liberals had been horrified at the notion of Manticore "conquering" an aboriginal race. The Progressives, on the other hand, had opposed the annexation because they already realized Haven would someday turn its sights on the Silesian Confederacy, which would take them straight past Basilisk. Manticoran sovereignty, they feared, would be seen as a direct threat—a "provocation"—in Havenite eyes, and their idea of foreign policy was to buy Haven off, not irritate it. As for the Conservative Association, anything that threatened to embroil them in galactic affairs beyond their nice, safe borders was anathema in their eyes.

All of which explained why Basilisk had become a bone of incredibly bitter contention among the major political parties. The Centrists and Crown Loyalists had carried the annexation by only the slimmest margin in the House of Lords, despite ample evidence that the Commons (including many of the Liberals' staunchest allies) strongly favored it. But to get it through the Lords at all, the Government had been forced to agree to all sorts of restrictions and limitations—including the incredibly stupid (in Honor's opinion) provision that no permanent fortifications or Fleet bases should be constructed in the system, and that even mobile units there should be kept to a minimum.

Under the circumstances, one might have expected the restriction on the number of ships which could be stationed there to call for sending only the very best, particularly since the volume of trade through the newly discovered terminus had grown by leaps and bounds. In fact, and especially since Sir Edward Janacek had become First Lord of the Admiralty, the opposite was the case.

Janacek wasn't the first, unfortunately, to denigrate Basilisk's importance, but his predecessors at least seemed to have based their feelings on something besides personal politics. The pre-Janacek theory, as far as Honor was able to determine, had been that since they were barred from putting in forces which might stand a chance of holding the system, there was no point making the effort. Thus, even many of those who supported the annexation saw the picket as little more than a trip-wire, advanced scouts whose destruction would be the signal for a response by the Home Fleet direct from Manticore. In short, some of them had argued, if any serious attack was ever mounted, there was no point sacrificing any more ships than necessary simply for the honor of the flag.

Janacek, of course, felt even more strongly than that. Since assuming control of the Admiralty, he had reduced the Basilisk picket below even the stipulated levels, for he saw it as a threat and a liability, not an asset. Left to his own devices, he would no doubt have simply ignored the system completely, and since he couldn't (quite) do that, he could at least see to it that he didn't waste any useful ships on it. And so Basilisk Station had become the punishment station of the Royal Manticoran Navy. Its dumping ground. The place it sent its worst incompetents and those who had incurred Their Lordships' displeasure.

This is a lot to read but really, it's all unfortunately important stuff. Lots of "liberals and progressives suck and stand for everything bad", of course. Also "well, we've decided we won't colonize the place and kill the indigenous people, even though we use the term saying we already colonized the planet, so why even bother protecting the most important point in the system that absolutely isn't the planet?"

C.M. Kruger
Oct 28, 2013

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




The historical analogue for Honor's ship in this book is HMS Rainbow, a 44-gun frigate that was converted to an experimental all-carronade armament in 1782. This gave an imp broadside of 1238 pounds compared to 318 that could be achieved with the more traditional long guns, but at the cost of having an extremely short effective range.

Rainbow won her single battle (against a conventionally armed French frigate of similar size) with the new guns quite handily before being retired due to age (and cost cutting at the end of the war.against America and the Bourbon powers). The experiment continued with a merchant ship.converted into a ship of the line, which won a decisive victory against a larger force in 1794. Not long aferward, the Admirality concluded that both victories were possible only due to surprise, and the increasing importance of long-range gunnery meant that the experiment was a failure.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Gnoman posted:

The historical analogue for Honor's ship in this book is HMS Rainbow, a 44-gun frigate that was converted to an experimental all-carronade armament in 1782. This gave an imp broadside of 1238 pounds compared to 318 that could be achieved with the more traditional long guns, but at the cost of having an extremely short effective range.

Rainbow won her single battle (against a conventionally armed French frigate of similar size) with the new guns quite handily before being retired due to age (and cost cutting at the end of the war.against America and the Bourbon powers). The experiment continued with a merchant ship.converted into a ship of the line, which won a decisive victory against a larger force in 1794. Not long aferward, the Admirality concluded that both victories were possible only due to surprise, and the increasing importance of long-range gunnery meant that the experiment was a failure.

I did some some poking around and reading and Weber kind of bungles this because the Fearless actually had other weapons, they just had less, so it was actually more akin to a regular ship back in those days, as carronades were common parts of a ship's guns. In this case, it seems like carronades were the equivilant of the energy torpedos that the Fearless had.

There had been a second ship that was also all-carronade - the HMS Glatton, commissioned by the captain of the HMS Rainbow during its time with its all-carronade armament. Apparently he had really loved it. It had a distinguished service with its armaments and generally kicked a lot of rear end in regular straight up fights with lots of ships. So apparently it was actually a pretty resounding success in the hands of someone who knew how to work it.

Of course then gun advances promptly rendered the carronade completely obsolete forever but they had a good run of like 100 years.

This has been 'looking up poo poo' corner with me. Also, thanks for finding that out in the first place. I'll have a post up later tonight.

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Glatton was the merchant ship converted to a battleship I mentioned. The one battle she fought with the experimental loadout was a truly epic accomplishment.

Patrat
Feb 14, 2012

Gnoman posted:

Glatton was the merchant ship converted to a battleship I mentioned. The one battle she fought with the experimental loadout was a truly epic accomplishment.

Yeesh, so she was a 56 gun converted east indiaman. Her captain's opinion of her:

Trollope was extremely happy with Glatton's seaworthiness, handling and general fitting out. He wrote to John Wells, the shipbuilder and her former owner,[11] "I sincerely hope... we may meet with a seventy four in the Glatton...she would either take her or sink her in twenty minutes."



Then he engaged a razee heavy frigate (a 74 cut down to a 50 gun vessel) and five regular frigates (two 38 gun, three 28 guns), plus a brig and a cutter, all at the same time. Before driving them all into harbour and sinking one ship, for the loss of one man wounded and one killed. That sounds like a remarkably successful concept to me.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Patrat posted:

Yeesh, so she was a 56 gun converted east indiaman. Her captain's opinion of her:

Trollope was extremely happy with Glatton's seaworthiness, handling and general fitting out. He wrote to John Wells, the shipbuilder and her former owner,[11] "I sincerely hope... we may meet with a seventy four in the Glatton...she would either take her or sink her in twenty minutes."



Then he engaged a razee heavy frigate (a 74 cut down to a 50 gun vessel) and five regular frigates (two 38 gun, three 28 guns), plus a brig and a cutter, all at the same time. Before driving them all into harbour and sinking one ship, for the loss of one man wounded and one killed. That sounds like a remarkably successful concept to me.

You know I'm not sure why Weber didn't have the Fearless be a wild success.

Wait, I do know the answer. Because if he didn't keep piling on about how it was super garbage and hyper useless, then how could he ever have it be a plucky underdog tale?

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Patrat posted:

Then he engaged a razee heavy frigate (a 74 cut down to a 50 gun vessel) and five regular frigates (two 38 gun, three 28 guns), plus a brig and a cutter, all at the same time. Before driving them all into harbour and sinking one ship, for the loss of one man wounded and one killed. That sounds like a remarkably successful concept to me.

At close range, it was an extremely powerful loadout - Glatton had a heavier broadside than the 100-gun first rate HMS Victory. The problem was that any conventionally armed ship could stand back out of range, and the Admiralty concluded that, once the terrifying close-range firepower of that weapons variant became known, any enemy would do just that whenever possible, preventing Royal Navy warships from ever engaging except under ideal conditions. Thus, the loadout was only useful when the enemy didn't know it was there.


The US Navy experimented with the same concept - USS Essex (1799) carried 6 long 18s and 40 32-pound carronades. She (and the sloop Essex Junior (10 long 6, 10 carronade 18) ran into the conventionally armed frigate HMS Phoebe and the sloop HMS Cherub in 1814 at the Battle of Valparaíso. Essex scored major damage on Phoebe early in the battle, after which Phoebe simply withdrew out of carronade range and pounded Essex to bits.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Gnoman posted:

At close range, it was an extremely powerful loadout - Glatton had a heavier broadside than the 100-gun first rate HMS Victory. The problem was that any conventionally armed ship could stand back out of range, and the Admiralty concluded that, once the terrifying close-range firepower of that weapons variant became known, any enemy would do just that whenever possible, preventing Royal Navy warships from ever engaging except under ideal conditions. Thus, the loadout was only useful when the enemy didn't know it was there.


The US Navy experimented with the same concept - USS Essex (1799) carried 6 long 18s and 40 32-pound carronades. She (and the sloop Essex Junior (10 long 6, 10 carronade 18) ran into the conventionally armed frigate HMS Phoebe and the sloop HMS Cherub in 1814 at the Battle of Valparaíso. Essex scored major damage on Phoebe early in the battle, after which Phoebe simply withdrew out of carronade range and pounded Essex to bits.

1814 was a bad time to use carronades as they had been super obselete by then. I think they were almost entirely out of use by 1820s.

It's time for the next chapter!

On Basilisk Station Chapter 5

Manticore makes is way to the Basilisk system and its station, wherein everyone is really humiliated at being sent to what would be the plummest position in the universe in any non-dumb setting, and is entirely set up so Honor can make a lot of money and prestige with the least amount of effort.

Depressed at the easiest posting ever posted:

The duty watch manned their stations alertly, and a stranger on Fearless's bridge might not have recognized the air of gloom which clung to them. But a stranger, Honor thought, reaching up to rub Nimitz's jaw absently, wouldn't have lived with these people for weeks now. A stranger wouldn't recognize their humiliation at being condemned to Basilisk Station, or the way they'd withdrawn ever deeper into their shells until the duties they performed were all they really had in common with their captain.

There's a lot of exposition about how space forts work and stuff, so I'll just copy it all. It's shocking to see Weber do exposition when a element comes up and is relevant rather than chapters later.

Exposition posted:

The smallest fortress out there massed close to sixteen million tons, twice as much as a superdreadnought, and its weapons-to-mass ratio was far higher. The forts weren't hyper-capable, for they used mass a warship might have devoted to its hyper generators and Warshawski sails to pack in still more firepower, but they were far more than immobile weapon platforms. They had to be.

Each of those forts maintained a stand-by battle watch and a 360° sidewall "bubble" at all times, but no one at this end of the Junction could know anyone was coming through it until they arrived, and no one could remain eternally vigilant. Thus a sneak attack?from, say, Trevor's Star?would always have the advantage of surprise; the attacker would arrive ready for battle, already seeking out targets for his weapons, while the defenders were still reacting to his arrival in their midst.

That was why no defensive planner placed his permanent defenses closer than a half million kilometers or so to a junction. If a hostile task force emerged within energy weapon range of the defenses, those defenses would be destroyed before they could reply, but ships transiting a wormhole junction arrived with a normal-space velocity of barely a few dozen kilometers per second, far too little for a high-speed attack run. With the closest forts so far from him and too little speed for a quick run-in to energy weapon range, any attacker must rely on missiles, and even impeller-drive missiles would require almost thirty-five seconds to reach them. Thus the forts' duty watches?in theory, at least?had time to reach full readiness while the weapons accelerated towards them. In practice, Honor suspected, most of them would still be coming on-line when the missiles arrived, which was why their point defense (unlike their offensive weaponry) was designed for emergency computer override even in peacetime.

In time of war, the forts would be augmented by thickly seeded remote laser platforms?old-fashioned, bomb-pumped laser satellites?much closer in and programmed to automatically engage anything not positively identified as friendly, but such measures were never used in peacetime. Accidents could always happen, and the accidental destruction of a passenger liner whose IFF wasn't recognized could be embarrassing, to say the very least. An attacker would still have sufficient surprise advantage for his energy batteries to kill a lot of satellites before they could respond, but enough of them would survive to handle him very roughly indeed.

Nonetheless, heavy losses could be anticipated in the inner fortress ring under the best possible circumstances, so the "forts" in the outer rings had to be able to move to fill in the gaps and mass upon an attacker. Their maximum acceleration rates were low, well under a hundred gravities, but their initial positions had been very carefully planned. Their acceleration would be enough to intercept attacking forces headed in-system, and their engines were sufficiently powerful to generate impeller wedges and sidewalls to protect them.

Nor was the threat of a wormhole assault the only reason for those forts, for the twenty-three and a half hours Fearless had required to reach the Junction underscored another defensive problem. Both wormholes and stars had hyper limits, within which no ship could enter or leave hyper. For junctions, the limit was, less than a million kilometers; for a G0 star, it was twenty-two light-minutes. But any wormhole terminus and the star with which it was associated created a roughly cone-shaped volume of mutual interference, lethal to any ship passing through it, in hyper-space's lowest bands. The danger volume wasn't perfectly cone-shaped, and each wormhole and star created its own unique threat zone, which generally threw off spurs about the wormhole itself. Because the Manticore System was a binary, with danger volumes for each star, the Junction's closed areas were more complicated than most, but there were always clear zones around the outer perimeter of any wormhole, gaps through which the wormhole could be approached from hyper. Which meant that while a defensive fleet stationed in orbit around Manticore or Gryphon would require a full day to reach the Junction through n-space, an assault from outside the system could (in theory, at least) drop out of hyper right on top of the Junction and already shooting.

In fact, it was less simple than that. Cutting a translation out of hyper that close was virtually impossible, so the attackers would almost certainly have to maneuver in n-space to get into attack range, which should give the forts time to detect them and, using their mobility, redeploy to meet their attack.

Apparently the forts were still really worthless, which was the real reason why Manticore annexed Basilisk. There's more exposition about how going through a wormhole destabilized it and made it unusable for a certain amount of time based on the mass, which the book tries to pass off as a weakness when it comes to defending the juncture as it means that if they hold two junctures they can send in two waves at once, which apparently was forever undefeatble by the forts. Which yeah sure whatever.

quote:

Not even Manticore's, Honor thought as Fearless slowed to rest relative to the Junction. Even though the Junction fortresses accounted for almost thirty percent of the RMN's budget, the security?or at least neutrality?of the Junction's other termini simply had to be guaranteed.

Which is why they treat Basilisk as some sort of undesirable useless outpost where only the worthless are sent, despite it being super critical to the kingdom's security.

The Fearless reaches wormhole to Basilisk and we get another "Honor has a math weakness!" despite earlier it explaining that she only sucked when doing it theoretically and was a super master ultra best ever when doing it in practice.

Honor sux posted:

Fearless drifted forward at a mere twenty gravities' acceleration, aligning herself perfectly on the invisible rails of the Junction, and Honor watched her display intently. Thank God for computers. If she'd had to work out the math for this sort of thing, she'd probably have cut her own throat years ago, but computers didn't mind if the person using them was a mathematical idiot. All they needed was the right input, and, unlike certain Academy instructors she could name, they didn't wait with exaggerated patience until they got it, either.

The ship goes through its various checks and functions to chain into FTL mode and then moves

quote:

two hundred and ten light-years distant in Einsteinian space
and calling it Einsteinian space just sounds weird. But that's how far Basilisk is from MAnticore.

They return to regular flight mode and hook up with the traffic control. They're ordered to meet with the HMS Warlock and there's a lot of chaff of flying over to the Warlock. And then finally the only really important part of the entire chapter happens:

”Yes, it just changes to a new POV without any warning again” posted:

"Here it is, Ma'am. HMS Warlock, CA Two-Seven-Seven. Three hundred k-tons. She's a Star Knight-class. Captain Lord Pavel Young, commanding."

Honor's hand froze three centimeters from her cup, then continued its progress. It was a tiny hesitation, no more than a second in length, but Commander McKeon looked up sharply, and his eyes narrowed at her expression.

It was a subtle thing, more sensed than seen, an infinitesimal tightening of her lips. The ridges of her sharply-defined cheekbones stood out for just an instant, and her nostrils flared. That was all—but the treecat on the back of her chair rose to his full height, ears flat, lip curled back to bare needle-tipped fangs, and his true-hands tensed to show half a centimeter of curved, white claw.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Harrington's voice was as courteous and level as ever, but there was something in it—an uneasiness, a cold bitterness at odds with his maddeningly self-possessed captain.

He watched her sip her cocoa and replace the cup neatly, and his mind raced as he tried to recall if he'd ever heard of Lord Pavel Young. Nothing came to him, and he bit the inside of his lip.

Was there something between her and Young? Something which would affect Fearless? Her flash of immobility, coupled with the treecat's powerful reaction, certainly seemed to suggest there was, and with any other captain, he would have found some excuse to ask her in private. Not out of morbid curiosity, but because it was his job to know about such things, to protect his ship and his commanding officer from anything that would hamper their efficiency.

Yet the barriers sealing him off from Harrington had grown too thick for that. He felt them rising into place, holding him in his chair, and then Harrington stood. She rose without haste, but he seemed to sense a jerkiness to her movement, a hidden urgency.

"Commander McKeon, you have the watch. I'll be in my quarters."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am. I have the watch," he acknowledged automatically. She nodded, dark eyes looking right through him with a curious, dangerous hardness, then scooped up her treecat and strode into the bridge lift. The door closed behind her.

McKeon rose and crossed to the command chair, settling into it and feeling the warmth her body had left behind. He made himself look away from the bland lift door and leaned back against the contoured cushions, wondering what fresh disaster was headed Fearless's way.

Soooo, oh boy, Pavel Young. The guy whose entire purpose seems to be putting a lie to the ‘Manticore is a raving meritocracy’ that Weber loves pretending. He’s also Generic Domestic Villian #1. His job is to be hated and only safe from Honor killing him because of !!!POLITICS!!!.

Also this one was short because most of the chapter was just "Flying to X place".

Jarvisi
Apr 17, 2001

Green is still best.
So wait. Wouldn't the fortresses be the perfect place to shove grav lances and energy torpedos because anyone coming out of a wormhole is a sitting duck?

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Weber never goes into details on the weaponry of the forts, just that it is very heavy for their size and they are very large. Energy torpedoes are stated to be in use on some ships in the hopes of getting a good shot, so the forts might well have them. Grav lances would be unnecessary for reasons we won't see until the Big Mistimed Infodump later in this book.

Larry Parrish
Jul 9, 2012

by Jeffrey of YOSPOS
The whole first book, despite probably being the least lovely one, kind of feels like a fever dream because it's like getting assigned the Panama or Suez station a century ago and getting depressed that you arent rotting in a fleet base Stateside.

Larry Parrish
Jul 9, 2012

by Jeffrey of YOSPOS
Then again I knew people who didnt want to be assigned Diego Garcia in my career field andit's like, you seriously think a year and a half on a tropical island with zero workload would be bad? I guess it is in the middle of nowhere so it's not quite the same

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Larry Parrish posted:

The whole first book, despite probably being the least lovely one, kind of feels like a fever dream because it's like getting assigned the Panama or Suez station a century ago and getting depressed that you arent rotting in a fleet base Stateside.

It's insane that it's where they decided to dump their fuckups. Though I guess it totally fits Honor to fail upward into the more plum posting in the universe where it's very easy to make it super rich for almost no effort.

Like he spends a page on it but it never makes any sense.

"We can't have permanent fortresses by the planet, so none of it can be defended! So let's put zero effort into its defenses. But also forts are loving useless to begin with, so we just have nothing but a little toll station and some losers we hate."

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007
Actually, I feel like Chapter 6 can’t wait because unlike Chapter 5, it really has some stuff in it. Some... stuff.

On Basilisk Station Chapter 6

The chapter begins with Honor making GBS threads on the alien-filled planet of Medusa. No, really. She whines about how boring it looks.

”I hate that planet and the Warlock” posted:

The planet Medusa gleamed like a dull ball bearing far below as Fearless slid into her assigned parking orbit for rendezvous with Warlock. It wasn't much of a planet, Honor thought, watching it on the visual display. She was well-aware her concentration on Medusa stemmed from a need to think about anything but the upcoming interview with her senior officer, but her mood had little to do with her conclusion that Medusa had to be the most boring-looking world she'd ever seen.

It was gray-green, relieved only by weather patterns and the glaring white of massive polar ice caps. Even its deep, narrow seas were a barely lighter shade of the omnipresent gray-green—a soupy sludge of plankton and larger plant forms that thrived in a brew the environmental control people would have condemned in a heartbeat back on Sphinx. Medusa's axial tilt was extreme, over forty degrees, which, coupled with its cool primary, produced a climate more brutal even than Manticore-B's Gryphon. The planetary flora was well-adapted to its severe environment, but it showed an appalling lack of variation, for Medusa was covered in moss. Thousands—millions—of varieties of moss. Short, fuzzy moss in place of grass. Higher-growing, brushy moss in place of bushes. Even, God help us all, great, big, floppy mounds of moss in place of trees. She'd heard about it, even seen holos, but this was the first time she'd seen it with her own eyes, and it wasn't the same at all.

She gave a wry grimace of distaste and turned her eyes resolutely to the sight she'd been avoiding. HMS Warlock floated in the same orbit, barely a hundred kilometers clear, and she swallowed a bitter-tasting envy mixed with old hatred as she gazed at her.

The Star Knight class were the RMN's latest heavy cruisers, three and a half times more massive than Fearless and with almost six times her firepower, even before Hephaestus and Horrible Hemphill had butchered her. The big, sleek ship hung there, taunting Honor's elderly command with its mere presence, and knowing who commanded that beautiful vessel made it far, far worse. She'd thought she'd hit bottom when they assigned her to Basilisk Station; now she knew she had.

Honor leaves the ship on a cutter, which is different from a pinnace. Which is probably different from a shuttle. The difference between the two is that a pinnace is big enough for an Impellar Drive, while cutters are not, so cutters are a lot slower. Apparently showing up in a proper ship is being ‘ostentatious’.

She arrives at the Warlock - apparently it had taken thirty-one hours to reach the Warlock though there is sure no feel of it. She knows its a calculated insult but she’s relieved because she can ‘get her into defenses in place’. Instead, she meets his XO, Commander Paul Tankersley, whose name anyone who has read a few books would know. He’s Honor’s future boyfriend. Spoilers. Here he’s given zero description beyond ‘short, squared-off commander’. You can really tell that Weber just drew his name out of a hat later on..

They don’t talk beyond formalistic stuff and he has a ‘touch of sympathy in his expression’. And then we get to the main event. Captain Lord Pavel Young.

”He fat” posted:

Captain Lord Young was seated behind the conference table, perusing a sheet of hardcopy. He didn't look up as she entered, and she gritted her teeth, amazed that such a trivial insult could make her so angry. She crossed to the table and stood silently, determined to wait him out.

He was the same flashy, handsome man he'd always been, she noted. Putting on a little weight, perhaps, but the short beard hid his incipient double chin quite well, and his tailoring was excellent. It always had been, even at the Academy, where everyone was supposed to wear the same Navy-issue uniform. But, then, the rules never had applied to him. Pavel Young was the eldest son and heir of the Earl of North Hollow—a point he had no intention of allowing anyone to forget.


I love that he has to be fat. Of course he is.

”Some details posted:

”Honor had no idea what he'd done to get himself banished to Basilisk Station. Probably, she thought bitterly, he'd simply been himself. Patronage could advance an officer's career—witness the fact that Young, who'd graduated only one form before her, had made list five years ago. Once an officer's name was on the captain's list, his eventual flag rank was guaranteed. Unless he did something so drastic the Fleet cashiered him, he only had to live long enough for simple seniority to see to that.

But rank, as many a Manticoran officer had discovered, was no guarantee of employment. An incompetent usually found himself on half-pay, still carried on the active-duty list but without a command. Half-pay was supposed to provide a reserve of experienced officers against future need by retaining those surplus to the service's current requirements; in practice, it was used to put fumble-fingered idiots too important to dismiss from the Queen's service where they could do no harm. Obviously Young hadn't gotten himself into that category—yet—but the fact that he'd been senior officer in Basilisk for almost a T-year now seemed a pretty clear hint someone at the Admiralty was less than thrilled with his performance.

Which, no doubt, was only going to make him more poisonous than ever to deal with.

They obviously dislike each other, and Captain Young is taking advantage of her arrival to gently caress off with the Warlock for a few months. She’s initially afraid he means to take over her ship, but nah he just wants to be gone.

”Bye!” posted:

"As you know, Basilisk Station is chronically understrength," he went on, "and I'm afraid Warlock is sadly overdue for refit. In fact, this—" he tapped the hardcopy "—is a list of our most urgently required repairs." He smiled. "That's why I'm so pleased to see you, Commander. Your presence will permit me to return Warlock to Manticore for the yard attention she needs so badly."

He watched her face, and Honor bit the inside of her lip and fought to keep her dismay from showing. If Young was dispatching his own ship to Manticore, he undoubtedly intended to shift to Fearless. The mere thought of sharing her bridge with him was enough to turn her stomach, but she managed, somehow, to stand in attentive silence with no sign of her thoughts.

"Under the circumstances," he continued after a moment, "and in view of the extensive nature of our needs, I feel it would be inadvisable to ask Commander Tankersley to assume responsibility for Warlock's refit." He extended a data chip and smiled as she took it without touching his hand.

"Therefore, Commander Harrington, I will be accompanying Warlock back to Manticore to supervise her refit in person." This time her surprise was too great to hide completely. He was the station's senior officer! Did he mean he intended to abandon his responsibility for the system?! "I will, of course, return as quickly as possible. I realize my absence will be . . . inconvenient for you, and I will make every effort to keep it as brief as possible, but I estimate that the necessary maintenance and repairs will consume at least two months. More probably—" he smiled again "—three. During that time, you will be senior officer here in Basilisk. Your orders are on the chip."

He let his chair slip back upright and picked up his hard copy once more.

"That will be all, Commander. Dismissed."

She somehow teleports back into the hallway and is all super mad looking and scares him. She puts on her captain’s beret insultingly and starts to head back to her ship and then we get the details of their encounter. Strap in!

”Surprise, he’s a rapist!!!” posted:

Honor was grateful for his silence, for her brain was trying to grapple with too many thoughts at once. Memories of the Academy dominated them, especially of the terrible scene in the commandant's office as Mr. Midshipman Lord Young, broken ribs and collarbone still immobilized, split lips still puffed and distended, one blackened eye swollen almost shut, was required to apologize to Ms. Midshipman Harrington for his "inappropriate language and actions" before the official reprimand for "conduct unbecoming" went into his file.

She should have told the whole story, she thought miserably, but he was the son of a powerful nobleman and she was only the daughter of a retired medical officer. And not a particularly beautiful one, either. Who would have believed the Earl of North Hollow's son had assaulted and attempted to rape a gawky, overgrown lump of a girl who wasn't even pretty? Besides, where was her proof? They'd been alone—Young had seen to that!—and she'd been so shaken she'd fled back to her dorm room instead of reporting it instantly. By the time anyone else knew a thing about it, his cronies had dragged him off to the infirmary with some story about "falling down the stairs" on his way to the gym.

And so she'd settled for the lesser charge, the incident that had happened earlier, before witnesses, when she rebuffed his smugly confident advances. Perhaps if she hadn't been so surprised, so taken aback by his sudden interest and obvious assurance that she would agree, she might have declined more gracefully. But it wasn't a problem she'd ever had before. She'd never developed the techniques for declining without affronting his overweening ego, and he hadn't taken it well. No doubt that "slight" to his pride was what had triggered later events, but his immediate response had been bad enough, and the Academy took a dim view of sexual harassment, especially when it took the form of insulting language and abusive conduct directed by a senior midshipman at a junior. Commandant Hartley had been furious enough with him over that, but who would have believed the truth?

Commandant Hartley would have, she thought. She'd realized that years ago, and hated herself for not telling him at the time. Looking back, she could recognize his hints, his all but overt pleas for her to tell him everything. If he hadn't suspected, he would hardly have required Young to apologize after she'd reduced him to a bloody pulp. Young had counted on neither the strength and reaction time Sphinx's gravity bestowed nor the extra tutoring in unarmed combat Chief MacDougal had been giving her, and she'd known better than to let him up after she had him down. He was only lucky he'd tried for her in the showers, when Nimitz wasn't around, for he would be far less handsome today if the treecat had been present.

No doubt it was as well Nimitz hadn't been there, and, she admitted, there'd been a certain savage joy in hurting him herself for what he'd tried to do. But the response had been entirely out of proportion to his official offense, and no one had ever doubted that his "fall" had been nothing of the sort. Hartley might not have had any proof, but he would never have come down on Young so harshly under the circumstances if he hadn't had a pretty shrewd notion of what had actually happened.

Yet she hadn't realized that then, and she'd told herself she'd already dealt with the matter, anyway. That she didn't want to precipitate a scandal that could only hurt the Academy. That it was a case of least said, soonest mended, since no one would have believed her anyway. Bad enough to be involved in something so humiliating and degrading without exposing herself to that, as well! She'd almost been able to hear the sniggers about the homely horse of a girl and her "delusions," and, after all, hadn't she let herself get a little carried away? There'd been no need to pound him into semi-consciousness. That had gone beyond simple selfdefense into the realm of punishment.

So she'd let the matter rest, and in so doing she'd bought herself the worst of both worlds. Attempted rape was one of the service's crash-and-burn offenses; if Young had been convicted of that, he would never have worn an officer's uniform, noble birth or no. But he hadn't been. She hadn't gotten him out of the service, and she had made an enemy for life, for Young would never forget that she'd beaten him bloody. Nor would he ever forgive her for the humiliation of being forced to apologize to her before Commandant Hartley and his executive officer, and he had powerful friends, both in and out of the service. She'd felt their influence more than once in her career, and his malicious delight in dropping full responsibility for the entire Basilisk System on her shoulders—leaving her with a single, over-age light cruiser to do a job which should have been the task of an entire flotilla—burned on her tongue like poison. It was petty and vicious . . . and entirely in keeping with his personality.

Thanks, I hate it. Especially the repetition of “She thinks she’s ugly!” while everyone is going “She’s BEYOND PRETTY”. Ugh. Every time Weber writes about rape, it’s never good. And this is probably the best he handles it.

She ruminates that he put a literally impossible job on her, because apparently they only have one ship police one of their most valuable locations at a time, even though it needs more than that.

”End of Chapter 6 posted:

Which was exactly what Young had intended. He was leaving her an impossible job, content in the knowledge that her failure to discharge it would go into her record. Unlike him, Honor had yet to make list, and if she botched her first independent command, however it had fallen on her, she never would.

But she hadn't botched it yet, and she nodded to herself—a choppy, angry nod. Even knowing that Young had set her up, that he intended for her to fail and ruin herself, was better than serving under his command, she told herself. Let him take himself off to Manticore. The sooner he got out of the same star system as her, the better she'd like it! And of one thing she was certain; she couldn't do any worse at the job than he had.

She'd made a mistake once where he was concerned. She wouldn't let him push her into another. Whatever it took, she would discharge her own duties and meet her own responsibilities. Not just to protect her career, but because they were her duties and responsibilities. Because she would not let an aristocratic piece of scum like Pavel Young win.

She straightened her spine and looked down at the data chip of her orders, and her dark brown eyes were dangerous.

It turns out to not be so impossible, really.

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




Kchama posted:


Thanks, I hate it. Especially the repetition of “She thinks she’s ugly!” while everyone is going “She’s BEYOND PRETTY”.


We see the internal thoughts of both Young and a character we meet later in book 3. They agree that Honor was "on the homely side" when she was at the Academy.

Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

Gnoman posted:

We see the internal thoughts of both Young and a character we meet later in book 3. They agree that Honor was "on the homely side" when she was at the Academy.

I mean in the stuff I posted earlier they do that and then go "But she's BEYOND PRETTY" which I feel is pretty lame.

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





I absolutely despise the tendency of genre authors to just make all their villains rapists because they can't be bothered to write a compelling, intriguing villain.

Gnoman
Feb 12, 2014

Come, all you fair and tender maids
Who flourish in your pri-ime
Beware, take care, keep your garden fair
Let Gnoman steal your thy-y-me
Le-et Gnoman steal your thyme




That's fair, and it would probably come off a lot less bad if they'd given the actual explanation (that she (and a lot of people her age, including the Queen) was stuck as a gangly teenager for many years longer than normal) in this book. Of course, the explanation is based on the Space Magic tech that lets people live for centuries in this setting, so criticizing it on that basis would also be sound.

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Kchama
Jul 25, 2007

TheGreatEvilKing posted:

I absolutely despise the tendency of genre authors to just make all their villains rapists because they can't be bothered to write a compelling, intriguing villain.

Yeah, no poo poo. And of course this is Honor's very first and pretty much primary domestic villain for quite some time.


Gnoman posted:

That's fair, and it would probably come off a lot less bad if they'd given the actual explanation (that she (and a lot of people her age, including the Queen) was stuck as a gangly teenager for many years longer than normal) in this book. Of course, the explanation is based on the Space Magic tech that lets people live for centuries in this setting, so criticizing it on that basis would also be sound.

Honestly I don't have a real problem with Prolong, but not explaining aside from a very quick "oh yeah she's a gen3 so she looks younger a lot longer" was really not enough for how far I am into the book. Weber's done a pretty piss-poor job actually explaining his setting. The book just expects you to get it and shrugs if you don't because it didn't explain it. By the way I'm thinking of covering the 'raving meritocracy' Pearl of Weber tomorrow. It's something.

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