Breylandverse Ships: The Quick Version

Just a quick bit of worldbuilding. Doing this partially as a response to a recent Spacedock video (and Bradford Walker’s post on it) but also as a way to get my ideas actually written down and organized better.

Some of you might notice that ships sizes are very close to those in David Weber’s Honor Harrington Series. That wasn’t completely intentional but it is more or less how I’m thinking these days.

Third Generation Post-Newtonian Warship Classes

Conventional Classes as of 4010.

DN Dreadnaughts: Massing around 5 or 6 million tons dreadnaughts are the queens of battle and the main measure that determines a star nations power and prestige; even if light cruiser and destroyers do most of the actual fighting. Dreadnaughts however are quite expensive and require enormous repair yards in order to keep them maintained. Thus the constant temptation to build smaller battleships despite proper dreadnaughts being generally more efficient ton per ton. Major fleet battles are however quite rare so capital ships mostly sit around in orbit and look menacing.

BB Battleships: Averaging about 3.5 to 4M tons Battleships are defined as the minimum ship that can effectively stand in the ‘wall of battle’ as part of a major fleet engagement. Armed with long range missiles and heavy energy batteries and paired with strong enough shields and armor to resist such weapons; battleships command respect and project power. Even an obsolete battleship can still be a dangerous opponent as even the oldest ship can still to refitted to fire state of the art missiles.

BC Battlecruisers: Averaging around 2M tons and with newer ships approaching two and half million tons the emergence of the true capital missile carrying battlecruiser is the defining event of third generation post-Newtonian warships. Battlecruisers are used primarily for deep raiding and heavy strikes against targets of opportunity. This was done to absolutely devastating effect against Breylands scattered colonies and border worlds during what later be called The Brafen Raids. The VBN which had previously rejected building battlecruisers has since changed their mind and adopted a more aggressive forward deployment doctrine.

CA Heavy Cruisers: Averaging around 400k tons heavy cruisers are mostly used defensively as picket ships and escorts. Few pirate bands or rogue states can wield ships of this size so a lone CA is generally going to have a firepower advantage against such non-state enemies.

CL Light Cruisers: More or less standardised at around 100k tons light cruisers are the multirole workhorses of virtually all space navies. Able to act as scouts, raiders, escorts and system defence pickets no fleet ever truly has enough light cruisers. Light cruiser are usually captained by Lt. Commanders.

The Viceroyal Breylandic Navy has learned through hard fought experience to never place a woman in command of a light cruiser.*

DD Destroyers: The smallest truly useful warships destroyers have standardised at the 55k ton mark, partially in due to what is known as the Curtis Mass Limit. By being under the Curtis Limit destroyers do not create an ‘exit signature’ upon exiting jump space and can then go immediately into full stealth, making them even better raiders than light cruisers. Destroyers are also fast and agile enough to flee from an engagement that is going poorly. This comes mostly at the cost of having limited ability to carry consumables and supplies, greatly limiting operational range and deployment time. Destroyers are usually captained by fairly senior Lieutenants or recently promoted Lt. Commanders.

FF Frigates: The smallest possible jump capable warship frigates tend average 40k tons. While most navies do not even bother building ships of this size the Viceroyal Breyland continues to use frigates in large numbers as the VBN is badly overextended has to cover and patrol a large number of sparsely populated systems. The VBN also prefer to use frigates for messenger duty instead of building smaller and cheaper dispatch boats.

FAC Fast Attack Craft: FACs are small gunboats typically around 30k tons that lack warp drives and are used for planetary defence and customs patrols. FACs are an inexpensive way to put a lot of firepower in space very quickly but they have numerous drawbacks. While VBN doctrine considers FACs vital to curbing smuggling and maintaining government control of the orbitals, these ships inherent lack of hyperjump capability means that unlike destroyers FACs are unable to retreat from a superior force. They also require orbital stations to operate from and many Breylandic colonies are lacking in orbital infrastructure. Plus you have to actually ship to the system in question using fairly large freighters.

AMC Armed Merchant Cruisers: Due to the increasing focus on missile weapons armed merchant ships are increasingly proving to be a threat that needs to be respected. However once a true warship gets inside effective energy weapon range AMCs quickly become little more than targets as they lack agility and tend to have defensive EW systems. Large converted merchant ships are however quite useful utility ships, often used as troop transports or supply ships. The VBN has also been known to arm such ships with small numbers of capital ship missiles giving them a long range punch that most opponents don\t really expect. AMCs also can carry a lot of munitions and consumables allowing them to stay on station for extended periods of time.

Intermediate and Emerging Classes.

BBL Light Battleships: Generally 3-3.25M tons. While there are a lot of older obsolete ships generally referred to as light battleships. The modern light battleship was developed once the lessons of the Brafen Raids had sunk in and is a system defense ship specifically designed to defeat a battlecruiser in a one on one duel. These ships are still at a fairly big disadvantage in a major fleet engagement if they are forced into joining the wall of battle but allow for a larger number of systems to be covered.

CB Super Cruiser: The enormous and steadily growing gap between heavy cruisers and new built battlecruisers is increasingly leading to naval theorists to speculate about an intermediate ship between the two classes. These ‘super‘ cruisers would be about 800k tons and would likely be used offensively against weaker targets too unimportant to commit capital ships against. No major navy currently has ships of this class in service but the concept is widely discussed and quite trendy among armchair admirals.

CM Medium Cruiser: As a result of a budget crisis Breyland built a number of 200k ton Arbalest-class cruisers and the resulting ships turned out to be surprisingly useful as lone patrol ships even if they did not fit into existing fleet doctrine. Additional medium cruiser designs are being considered and the VBN may rethink its entire cruiser construction priorities in the near future.

DDH Heavy Destroyer: Several smaller navies are beginning to question the conventional wisdom about the usefulness of building ships under the Curtis Mass Limit, as the lack of a hyperspace exit signature is not that big of an operational advantage. The result of this is building heavy destroyers in the 65-70k tons range.

*Yes that’s a direct On Basilisk Station reference.

 

Related:

Brad’s post in question.

https://bradfordcwalker.blogspot.com/2018/08/my-life-in-fandom-and-writing-problem.html

Chapter One of Decisive Action (which will be need to rewritten.)

Chapter One: An Unpleasant Surprise

Chapter One: An Unpleasant Surprise

Chapter One: An Unpleasant Surprise

Kalkar System: Feb 5^th 4009 Old Terran Calendar

Stealth in space was a matter of electronic warfare systems divided by hull size. In practical terms that meant only destroyers and light cruisers were truly stealthy. Heavy cruisers could sneak around against opponents who weren’t alert or experienced but that was always a gamble. Attempting to hide any ship larger than about half a million tons was a futile gesture.

The VBS Roaming Songbird had a different problem. At forty thousand tons the frigate was smaller than a destroyer but lacked powerful enough EW systems to hide in open space. Other more modern navies had stopped building frigates decades ago but the Breyland navy needed as many hulls as it could get; simply to act as messenger couriers if nothing else. Besides a pair of frigates could fight a destroyer and being warp-capable could run away from a hopeless engagement unlike fast attack craft.

All that was well and good but what mattered at the moment was that the Breyland Navy’s use of frigates gave a lot of young officers their first chance at an independent command. Lieutenant Parker McLaren watched his command display very nervously as he waited for the reconnaissance drone to come into secure communication range. “We should be seeing the trace any time now.” He muttered to himself.

A long tense minute later the call came,” Contact, sir. Faint trace. ID still uncertain.”

“Plot an intercept, bring our engines to one quarter power. No higher. Just get us as close as you can Mr. Kerensky.”

“Aye, aye, one quarter power, sir.” The Sub-Lieutenant who was acting as both XO and lead navigator replied. “Still being cautious?”

“If we can we need to get out of here without the locals spotting us.” McLaren answered. “and with our hardware disadvantage we can’t be sure they haven’t set up passive sensor arrays among the gas giant’s moons.”

The slender mercenary-adventurer politely declined to comment on how inferior the Breyland Navy hardware was; especially compared to his native Concordia. Breyland civilian technology was for the most part as good if not better than their neighbours but their military tech base was atrociously behind the times. “Passive arrays? That far out from the main planet? These are just pirates.”

“Very well equipped pirates, Marc.” McLaren said coldly as he reflected on where those pirates would have gotten that equipment from. “And recon frigates are supposed to be cautious. Speaking of which anything more on that drone?”

Ensign Hwan looked up from the tactical display,” No sir, the trance is a beginning to strengthen but I still have no firm ID or…”

“Enemy drone?” Kerensky speculated. “launched along the same path as our drone after they intercepted it?” It was a ludicrous idea on the face of it.

“Mr. Hwan, Bring our point defences online,” McLaren ordered humoring the Concordian. “Better paranoid than dead.”

Hwan looked displeased but said nothing as he begin spinning up the frigate’s six defensive laser clusters. McLaren almost reminded the ex-NCO about keeping the PD lasers in passive sensor mode but caught himself before he did so. Mr. Hwan knew his business and had earned his rank the hard way.

“Drone ID Mk seventeen B. Identification code confirmed,” The petty officer standing to Ensign Hwan’s right announced. McLaren breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s an old drone.” Hwan said in disbelieve. “Seventeen B… would be at least eighty years old. The Vulcan wouldn’t be carrying a drone that old.”

The petty officer double checked his display,” Sirs everything checks out. The code is valid.”

“Mr. Holland is the drone responding to telemetry commands?” Hwan barked. “At this range…

“No sir, drone is acknowledging my commands but not responding,” The rating at the drone control station answered.

McLaren’s own words echoed in his ears. Better paranoid than dead. “Condition Alpha!”

“Roger that!” Hwan answered with a veteran’s roar of confidence,” Emcon Charlie, raising shields, bringing duel purpose lasers online. Reconfiguring EW systems to combat ECM.”

“Engines to half power. Engineering reports, five minutes to full speed.” Kerensky replied in turn.

Good men, better than he deserved, McLaren thought. “Break for the hyperlimit. We’re done here one way or another.”

“New contact! Gravitic and TachPulse! Mass estimate… seventy kilotons. Range nine light-seconds.” Hwan reported. “Closing on us at about two thirds speed.”

“Roger,” McLaren replied his mind spinning his barely armed ship had no business even trying to engage a ship that large. “The drone?”

“Profile change! The Drone is moving to intercept us. Unknown type!” Hwan’s assistant reported.

“I’m gonna snap shoot a Stingray at it.” Hwan announced. The Songbird didn’t have much of the way in magazine space and shooting an older LM-3 missile at the drone would save her handful of semi-modern LM-5 Pilum’s in case one of pirates did manage to get into range.

“Do it!” McLaren proclaimed as he begun to crunch the numbers in his head.

“Sir, that is definitely an attack drone, engine signature indicates Concordian origin.” Holland reported. Kerensky stuttered slightly at this. Not that McLaren or his crew would hold anything against him.

“Missile away! Reloading tube three with Pilum,” Hwan reported.

“Marc? Any idea what that thing is?” McLaren asked the mercenary.

“Attack drone? K series maybe? Three light attack missiles… good EW systems.” Kerensky answered. “It’ll see the missile coming and fire before it’s destroyed.”

“If those are first line Cordie missiles we’re not going to be able to stop all three, Skipper.” Ensign Hwan said. “Even if they launch at max range.”

“No they’d have to be export versions. Wouldn’t they?” Kerensky squealed. “They’d have to be?”

They’d find out shortly. Concordian didn’t sell much in the way of arms but a lot of their smaller allies were feeling the need for cold hard cash in the aftermath of the recent trade collapse. The fact that the pirates had any Concordian arms at all was going to make taking back this system a hell of a lot harder.

“Missile impact in three seconds,” Hwan announced. “Stingray is tracking…”

“Counterlaunch detected! Vampire count four!” Holland reported.

“Okay so it wasn’t a K series.” Kerensky muttered mostly to himself.

The Songbird had four counter-missile launchers, two dual purpose lasers and six point defence lasers. Against four missiles of equal technology that would have likely proven enough to prevent any hits. However even older Concordian hardware was going to be a challenge and while a single hit wasn’t likely to destroy the Songbird a crippling hit that took out an engine or two would slow the frigate enough for the incoming pirate heavy destroyer to intercept them short of the hyperlimit.

“Counter-missiles launching,” Hwan announced. There would be time for two salvos and then one last ditch chance with the lasers. “Gremlin-1 destroyed.” He added almost as an afterthought.

“Shields at fifty-two percent, engine power at sixty-three percent, Defensive ECM at full capacity.” Kerensky reported. The mercenary might be embarrassed by the strangeness of facing his home nation’s weaponry but he was still an academy trained naval officer and knew what information his captain needed.

“Second launch away! First intercept… now!”

Four incoming missiles became three incoming missiles.

“Second intercept… now!”

A second missile was intercepted. Two remaining.

“Lasers engaging.”

The sixty five millimeter dual purpose lasers did their best but to no avail.

Only five of the Songbird’s point defence lasers could engage. A third missile was destroyed cleanly. The final incoming missile took only a partial hit but that was enough to throw it off target. Not before it had a chance to arm its forty megaton warhead however and a bright angry fireball appeared less than a hundred kilometers astern of the ship and a wave of energy struck the rear shields.

The Songbird shook from the near miss but the shields held and engine power continued to rise.

“Time to hyperlimit Mr. Kerensky?” McLaren asked.

“Estimated time eight minutes, forty seconds. Enemy destroyer has broken off pursuit,” Kerensky answered.

“Prepare to hyper out,” McLaren ordered.

“Direct line to Gloria?” Kerensky asked.

“Direct line, no point getting fancy.” McLaren answered. Gloria was the only real base in this region so there was little point in disguising their movements. “and who knows maybe they’ll be stupid enough to follow us?”

That got a chuckle from the bridge. In theory you could follow a ship using a direct line. In practice the risk of being ambushed by the ship you had been chasing before you could bring your ship’s systems bring online after exiting hyperspace was high enough to make interstellar hot pursuit something you only saw in movies.

“Navigation check complete. Warpcoil fully charged. All subsystems nominal,” Kerensky announced. “Clear to jump as soon as we hit the limit.”

“Good work, everyone.” McLaren declared. “Let’s just hope the Vulcan got out as well.

It was a somber thought that haunted the Songbird’s men as their ship entered the safety of hyperspace. Their mission had failed, by no fault of their own but they would live to fight another day.

Drunken Writer Thought

“Greater Breyland” is two things. A space navy and a bank that exists solely to pay for that space navy. Everything else is ‘local’ or directly serves those two masters.

Have Doggo, Will Travel.

Recruiting Sergeant Jayce Bronner glared at the teenage boy who had rather nervously asked him a very stupid question. “Okay the quickest way to satisfy your service requirement is volunteer to serve as a K-9 trooper.”

“A what?” The boy who had rather sheepishly introduced himself as Jann replied.

“A dog handler.” Bronner explained. “Sure you gotta break a few skulls with the Gendarmes but it’s a pretty easy gig and you only serve six years instead of the normal twenty.”

“What’s the catch?” Jann asked.

“The service dogs are retired after five years so typically the trooper is mustered out at the same.” Bronner added.

“So what happens with the dog?” Jann blurted out, not completely following the sergeant.

“It goes home with the soldier, that’s why the Guard only drafts K-9 troopers from planets where dog ownership is common.” Bronner said, Jann seemed a little redneckish but that was usually a good thing for a soldier.

“So I get out early and I get a cool awesome dog.” Jann answered, summing up what he had learned so far.

Bronner decided to start on the bad news. “One year of training, and then five years of service but you’ll be a Gendarme private the entire time. Hell you won’t even make PFC unless you do something stupidly heroic.”

“So no real pension or muster out bonus. Yeah I can live with that.” Jann said. Carolus had a decent enough economy that a returning soldier would have no trouble getting job. More than you could say for other places.

“You’ll have to score really damn well on the tests. Every goldbricker, coward and barracks lawyer tries for K-9 duty and the Guard really doesn’t need that many dogboys.” Bronner said firmly.

“So if I make the cut that will be accomplishment by itself.” Jann pondered.

“That’s not quite what I meant.” The recruiter groaned. Jann wasn’t a serious prospect but it was important to Bronner to represent the military as best he could.

“I get out early, I get a companion dog and I’ll be part of a select group.” Jann summed up.

“Select group is… one way to put it.” Bronner said remembering his own service. “One thing however it that if your partner is killed in the middle of your tour you usually get sent back for training with a new dog. Remember it’s the dog that gets retired early not the trooper.”

“So take care of the doggo?” Jann said. Catching the key point quickly.

“Right that’s the deal. You take of the dog, the dog takes care of you, Before, during and after the war.” Bronner said cheerfully “And God help you if another K-9 vet finds out you didn’t take care of your partner afterwards.” The sergeant said very sternly. Jann met his eyes briefly to show that he understood.

“Okay. So it’s the fastest way to honorably complete my service.” Jann stated.

“Second fastest would be to volunteer to service in the Colonial Police. That’s ten years and decent promotion opportunities if you re-up.” Bronner said, A lot of recruiters wouldn’t bring that point up since the Colonial Police weren’t part of the military but Bronner had always been too honest for his own good.

Jann nodded, clearly taking a mental note.

There was one more thing Bronner felt he should bring up, “The dishonorable option would be to intentionally fail your training say around the six month mark…”

“Hell no, sir,” Jann interrupted. “I don’t wanna go die in some rich man’s war but if I gonna do something I’m damn well going to do my best. I ain’t intentionally failing nothing.”

I took every ounce of Sergeant Bronner’ s lifetime of discipline not to laugh at that. “Good. Man to man, that’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Jann blushed and looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Go home kid. The draft quota on this planet is so small that there’s almost no chance of your number coming up.” Bronner said defeatedly.

“Just wanted a plan in case it did, sir.” Jann said weakly. “Got a lot to think about. Guess I’ll go now.”

“Just remember kid there’s nothing stopping you from volunteering.” the old sergeant said calmly.

“Lot to think about,” Jann grunted, before slipping out the door.

“Go home, think about it.. and work on your English, It never hurts if you’re thinking about going off-world.” Bronner yelled out the door in reply.

Jann turned around and waved to thank the sergeant before continuing on his way.

“… I mean fuck I volunteered.” Bronner said to himself. “And he was a damn good dog.

The Colonel’s Speech

Okay I probably am going to have to sit down and do a Ice Moon Corrigan story…

 

A image appeared on the screen of a older man with a neat short beard, dressed in a white suit. He grinned at camera with an undeniable charisma and began speaking in what the pirates’ computer would later identify as a ‘likely fake Old American deep south accent.’

This is The Colonel, speaking for the people and militia of Corrigan.

Alright you small-dicked weaselfuckers y’all ain’t fooling nobody with that whole ‘we come in peace’ bullshit. We all know why you’re here and let me start by saying that your kind of ‘free roaming businessmen’ ain’t all that welcome in these parts.

That said it looks like you’re here and we’re gonna have to do business. So I’ll try make this as plain and clear as I can. You’re here to make a quick buck and that ain’t happening. Our colony is self-sufficient in the essentials of life, so you can’t starve us out. As for the parts and machinery we need to import well… we got enough spare parts to last us about twenty years or so.

So whatever you think you’re going to do to us it ain’t gonna be quick and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be easy. Time is money, son. Especially in your line of work. By now I’ve sure you’ve had a chance to talk to our neighbors and learnt just what kind of fellows we are. You see Corrigan is a proposition Nation based on a very interesting set of propositions.

We build up our treasures in Heaven, not upon the mortal plane.

We ain’t got no gold, we ain’t got no platinum, ain’t got no fancy jewels either. The wealth we do have on this moon is in the form of heavy machinery and infrastructure. Not exactly the kind of portable loot you need to keep your operation running.

Now I just told you what We the people and militia of Corrigan don’t have. So to even things out I’m going to tell you we do have a whole lot of.

We got nothing but cold steel, hot lead and tungsten carbine penetrators and believe me the good ole boys will be more than happy to give it to you sons-a-bitches one round at time

You doubt my word you just go right on ahead and try it. Seriously son, with God as my witness any fight with us is a losing bargain.

Because you know damn well even if we had the cash to pay you off, Y’all could go eat a dick ‘cuz you ain’t getting one damn cent from us.

We’re ready to meet our God. Are you ready to meet yours?

Quick Hit: Ice Moon Corrigan

Not a very productive weekend I’m afraid but I’ll leave you with this little piece of world-building.

 

While Corrigan is relatively wealthy it is also a frozen hostile atmosphere moon inhabited by nine hundred thousand armed to the teeth militant Christian fanatics, living in hundreds of practically self-sufficient ‘farmhold’ settlements which are all inter-connected by deep underground tunnels and who could as a last resort retreat their entire population into a carefully prepared fortified mountain range. You will get nothing out of the Corgis unless you ask them very, very nicely.

 

and yes the inhabitants of the ice moon Corrigan are called Corgis.

Looks Like It’s Time To Level The Fuck Up

Shadilay Brethren, I’d like to take the time to thank The Supreme Dark Lord, Davis Aurini, Bradford Walker and the rest of you for the absolutely ridiculous traffic spike this blog has gotten in the last two days.

To put things into perspective a normal day around here has maybe 25-30 views. If I post a good article that gets a little buzz things might spike up to 70-100 views.

In the last three days as a result of covering the launch of Alt*Hero I have gotten, 255, 790 and 819 page views respectively. That’s what? a 2000% increase!!! Needless to say it got my attention.

While I have no idea how many of you will stick around in order to become proper Magic Space Aryans I do hope you’ve all been entertained.

Many a truth is said in jest and I’m come to accept that such is my lot in life.

Breyland Notes: The Magic Space Aryan Racial Purity Scale

 

This is the second time I’ve a had a post go viral enough to actually scare me and if I made a complete ass of myself the first time I’d like to think that I’m a bit more seasoned and confident now.

I may surprise some of you to learn that this is supposed to be a writer’s blog. Even though it seems that I’m doing a great deal more Culture War Commentary than actual writing.

The War For The Heart Of Geekdom: What Can You Do?

 

So what do I need to do? I need to sperg less and write more.

My current main project is going to be a ‘space navy novel’ set in the Breylandverse and done in the spirit of David Weber’s early work; hopefully very short and simple.

Current working title is Decisive Action. I don’t really want to give any details until I have more of the actual work done. However one thing I find note worthy is that I’m using a lot of what on the surface appear to be ‘diversity’ characters for the reason that their divided loyalties made for a much more interesting dynamic.

 

A Chapter done in the Spirit of Pinochet (Too funny not to share immediately after I wrote it.)

A Proven Solution

 

For my older readers I’m afraid that I’m going to have to delay Brothers In The Dust for the reason that I’m not really confident enough that I can properly write small scale infantry combat. Added to the intimidation factor is that the sort of people who would buy a novel like that are going have put considerable amounts of lead down range.

I’ll probably come back to BITD once I’ve actually gotten another less ambitious story done.

I keep having to scale down and simplify. I guess that’s where the Pulp Revolution comes in.

Anyway If I go silent for a few days it’s because I’m trying to actually focus on a project and get something done. I’ll try to keep people updated but I have a lot of demons to wrestle and I don’t always have the upper hand.

Politics and the Alt-Right: I’ll comment on something if it pisses me off enough or if I need to get my thoughts written down in order to organize them. Otherwise I need to back off a bit and take care things closer to home.

And yes I pretend to be a Viking on the Internet, I find it pisses off the right people and keeps the T-level up.

So Why Vikings?

 

I’ll finish this post with this old worldbuilding exercise; which some of you might enjoy in the wake of Alt*Hero.

Gotham and Metropolis

 

—Wolfman Out—

We are the Cult of Life. Begone ye, Thots of Death!

Fake Worlds Real Politics

A completely unplanned stream of thought rant.

 

Jack Posobiec rants about Star Trek Discovery being Anti-Trump [10 mins]

A little on the cringeworthy side but he’s making a lot of good points here. Forcing real world topical politics into works of fiction completely ruins them.

 

It also causes them to age very rapidly. Think of a space marines novel from 1990 where the main villain is a Saddam Hussein stand in (I know one exists.) That’s bad enough but at least there’s some sort of story there and SPACEMERICA FUCK YES!!! is a tried and tested staple of military science fiction.

The real cringe comes from when a fictional society just so happens to be having the exact same problems as the modern world despite it being the year 4273 and most of the conflict taking place on the ice moon Carride in the New Fresco system. Our stronk female character must spread progressive values to the horribly backwards ice miners who still refuse to believe in more than two genders. This is of course is in addition to fending off an invading army of Orange Hitler Clones…

There really is only so much as this you can take before you simply turn off the television or toss the book in the trash.

Message fiction sucks even when you agree with the message. For example I used to get very angry about the ‘straw liberals’ you constantly see in military science fiction. There is always somebody who wants to negotiate with Face-Eating Giant Space Spiders*…

And then I starting encountering the blue checkmark mafia on Twitter and learnt that yes American Journalists really do think actually like those characters in those novels.

…and I think that’s another rant for another time.

So? How do I go about handling politics in my writing?

Let’s start with the dirty little secret of this horribly wwwwwwacist right wing blog. I’m not actually THAT rightwing. Certainly not compared to the majority of my internet friends who seem to sleep with a MANPAD under their Confederate flag pillow and cosplay as the Shadow solely as an excuse to carry an extra pair of .45s.

The central topic of the Breyland stories is the question “what does it mean to be a nation?” This will not be the theme or main point of every story I write in that universe but it will be a constant presence in the background and intelligent self-aware characters will have to think about it. Breyland is cursed with a very serious fuzzy borders problem as their cultural and economic influence far exceeds their Space Navy’s ability to project power and defend those borders.

All of the questions I’ve had to ask myself while worldbuilding about culture, religion, race, the difference between Nation and Empire… keep leading me towards what is going to be a very right-friendly setting. Which is very interesting as I set a lot of the details down long before I was red-pilled.

Picking up those notes years later and thinking through the consequences of those details and the enormous potential for ethnic and religious conflict littered all over the place has been an awful lot of fun. For example I made the main protagonist culture intolerant of male homosexuality as I wanted to give them a flaw rather than risk letting them become complete Mary Sues. Years later hindsight is making that defining flaw look more and more like a virtue, at least in some circles.

There has been a lot of false starts in the last couple of years as I dig around in this mess for a story to tell but I seem to be making at least some head way. Slow progress is still progress.

So while there is going to be a great deal of politics in the Breylandverse stories I will do my best to make them as non-contemporary as possible and focus on making the issues of direct and logical consequence to the characters who are stuck weathering the storm (or when fortune smiles on them being the storm.)

Yes I will take the occasional shot at the Far Left but this is a setting where Communists get thrown out of helicopters every couple of decades just to keep the universities in line**. The Breyland military also finds itself fighting planetary nationalists just as often as they find themselves chasing down jungle Communists.

And as always I will let the reader judge the characters rather than simply preach down from an ideological pulpit.

Which just so happens to be the exact opposite approach mainstream science fiction like Star Trek Discovery is taking.

*As the Feegs prefer to play with their food they are usually quite happy to “negotiate.” Also leftist human females tend to be fatter than right-leaning human females and thus more delicious.

** A second exception I’m going to allow myself is the Special Intelligence Service who are basically a bunch of Alt-Right Shitlords… and yes some of them are Fake Nazis… others are actual Nazis.. just enough of them to keep things interesting.

***Disclaimer: FEGSS do not actually appear in the Breylandverse. This was completely unplanned rant and I mixed my metaphors. But don’t worry  The Feegs are patient and cunning; they will appear somewhere sometime and when you least expect it.

A Proven Solution

A proven solution to a sadly reoccurring problem.

This is a bit of throwaway chapter that will probably be part of a larger work. Still I think it’s a good enough laugh on its own.

 

The terrorist attack on the Tiki Tacky Club had been only one of three simultaneous attacks by Marxist elements against soft targets in the city. Fortunately causalities were far lighter than they had any right to be. The attack on the nightclub had failed due to the completely unexpected rigor with which the junior naval officers and asteroid miners who made up most the clientele had fought back. The other two attacks failed mostly due to poor planning and the inexperience of the Marxist guerillas. The final body count was somber; forty seven civilians and eight policeman killed but San Tseung was in many ways a military city and the people took the news in stride. They would weep for the fallen but they had seen bad times before. Of the thirty estimated attackers, twenty four were confirmed dead, and two more were captured. They would for a brief moment become the focus of an angry city’s hate.

Sensing a threat to his authority the local High Justice acted quickly without waiting for a response from the System Governor’s office. The two terrorists were given a summary trial and sentenced to death under the Martial Law previsions of the Emergency Powers Act. Since they were communists, tradition demanded that they be put to death by being thrown out of a rotary-winged aircraft. Not always the easiest thing to find but thankfully an eccentric plantation owner was willing to lend the government the use of his aircraft, after all it was simply part of his civic duty. Even better the aircraft in question was an actual to honest God helicopter and not an autogyro or a tilt-rotor. The High Justice was almost beside himself with joy, he would be able to honor the tradition after all.

The Governor of course was sceptical but the High Justice was a very convincing man and evidence was cut and dry. They were Marxist Terrorists caught in the act. Now convinced the Governor, a former policeman himself suggested a refinement of the High Justice’s plan. Instead of quietly throwing the terrorists out of the helicopter over the ocean as was the normal practice and letting the nearsharks and razorsquids make a brief meal of them, the Governor wanted to make an example out of them. They would throw the communists out of the helicopter directly over the main plaza in the middle of the commercial district; there was a very nice flat concrete parking lot that would do nicely, and produce a memorable visual effect in the process.

The High Justice thought about this for a moment and pointed out that some of the foodcart vendors who normally conducted business in that area might not be too fond of that idea. The Governor dithered for a minute or so before suggesting that it might be best to pay a slight compensation to the local vendors (he would later do so out of his own privy purse) but that the central plaza was the place to make this happen. The High Justice heartily agreed. It was time to send a message.

Word of the planned operation spread rapidly throughout the soldiers and gendarmes of the demoralized garrison detachment and was greeted with almost ecstatic zeal. They were going to throw a pair of actual communists out of a real helicopter, just like in the old movies. Arrangements were made in record time. By midday tomorrow the plaza was cleared by local police and the helicopter, a sleek beautiful machine that seemed to mock the laws of physics was airborne with its two special passengers. It was time for justice; Breyland colonial style.

Unfortunately the two terrorists were historically illiterate papaya farmers and did not seem to appreciate the fact they were being thrown out of a real authentic helicopter, rather than one of the garrison’s tilt-rotors. The two gentlemen in question voiced their rigorous protests all the way down and then suddenly stopped. Luckily one of the gendarmes had taken on his own initiative, to attach small recording devices to the terrorists so he and his mates could enjoy the comrades inflight conversation and that inevitable scream of terror just before impact. Those sound recordings passed through several hands in quick secession and were inadvertently leaked to the local media, just in time to be broadcast as part of the local nightly news.

While the Breylanders were universally pleased with themselves; the response among the locals was admittedly mixed. Some of the wealthier citizens felt the spectacle an unnecessary piece of street theatre and would have preferred have had the situation in a much more quiet and discreet manner. The local Patriarch of the Western Orthodox Church was the sole voice condemning the executions as un-Christian barbarism. This caused a great deal of agitation within the church rank and file and the Patriarch would later have to clarify that his objection was to the method of execution and the denial of proper Christian burials, not to the executions themselves.

Among the lower classes there was a strange silent solidarity, while some of the other cities on the planet might harbour some lingering sympathy for the Marxist insurgents almost all of the permanent residents of San Tseung were the children and grandchildren of refugees who had been forced out of their farms and villages during the initial uprising a generation ago. While no-one openly cheered the execution there was a certain amount of stoic satisfaction and the only sympathy they felt was to the poor sanitation workers who had to clean up the resulting mess.

With that small bit of closure the fine upstanding residents of San Tseung returned to the ethanol-fuelled joie de vivre that was their day to day lives.

Breyland Notes: The Magic Space Aryan Racial Purity Scale

Just another world building article to help me collect my thoughts. This one started out as a joke but then went into much more serious territory than I originally planned to cover…but since they are going to call me a Nazi anyway.

The Magic Space Aryan Racial Purity Scale

Master Race

Almost Master Race

Proper White Devil

Pretty Damn White

Ethnically Enhanced Pseudo-Caucasian

Still Sorta White

Brownish

Generic Brown Olive Person

Browner Than Usual

Suspiciously Black

Suitable for Picking Cotton

Too Black to Give a Fuck

 

One of the more interesting things about playing around in the Breylandverse is the complete lack of political correctness and trying to figure out how ordinary people would act when placed in such a complex swirling ball of chaos as Early Restoration Breyland.

The above scale is barracks humor that originated among the NCOs of the Sector Guard (Colonial Sepoy Infantry) and Paramilitary Police (PMP often referred to pimps.) The joke however rapidly took on a life of its own and spread throughout the military and merchant marine as it almost perfectly captures, mocks and attempts to reconcile the racial politics that occurs through the Breylandic military and a large proportion of the colony worlds.

Magic Space Aryan is a mocking term* used to describe Ethnic Breylanders (particularity arrogant government officials.) It works as rhetoric on two fronts; first while Breylanders are a distinctly ‘white race’ some of their subject worlds are even more ‘European’ and attacking their sense of racial superiority by pointing out that they are not completely white can severely rattle some individuals. The other aspect is calling out the contrast between Golden Age Breyland Left-Libertarian traditions and the vicious reality of what their descendants have to do in order to keep their unstable multi-ethnic empire from collapsing. This the Beautiful Terror, the constant back and forth dissonance as Breyland struggles to restore its own lost cultural legacy while having to come to terms with having an Empire that the people (and a large segment of the new regime) do not want; yet dare not get rid of. At the end of the day Breyland finds itself occupying a large number of world simply to deny them to their enemies.

The view from the colonies is much different and a strange vague form of Civic Nationalism is beginning to arise. The Loyal Barbarians are getting very angry at the Disloyal Barbarians who are ruining a good thing**. While many of these worlds have little which to negotiate with the central government; they have the blood of their soldiers. These population are also hopeful for the future and prefer to take their chances under the Beautiful Terror then to risk the tender mercies of the New Ganymede Confederacy or the chaos and barbarism of the sort of Pirate Kingdoms that are likely to form in the event of a complete collapse.

As more and more sepoys die in the service of Breyland the blood debt grows but that debt of honor can only be paid back if Breyland survives. The chaos must end. The pirates must be eliminated. Order must be restored. Nations, Tribes, Empires all of it comes down men who must do their duty. One man at a time. One duty at time. One war at a time. Breyland will survive but at what cost?

In hindsight Brothers In The Dust is actually more of a Zulu War scenario than an Iraq or Vietnam analogy… just need to grab one story and tell it.

* In case any of you were wondering why I sometimes refer to my readers as such.

**Breyland also charges its colonies and occupied worlds far less in taxes than the Confederates do. So at least some of this phony patriotism is purely economic in nature.