The Historical Moment

A Station Keeping story, by tycho garen
on 29th August 2008. (commentary)

This is the fifth installment of the Station Keeping story. This episode comes to us from the history compiled by J. Tiltsten, written several hundred years after the conclusion of these stories. I hope you enjoy, and I’ll see you back here on Tuesday.

The Necessity of Hanmist Studies, Part I

by Professor Jonathan Tiltsten

Unlike some other pivotal moments in the development of human colonial efforts on other worlds, many documents survive from the period just before and during the occupation of a space station in-orbit of the rim-world “Hanm.” Though in retrospect it is widely accepted, and obvious to many scholars of post-League political organization that the events on Hanm Centre were very important, if not key in determining the organization of human government for the next hundred years; at the time, the key actors in this milieux were not only unaware of their coming role in history, but also the importance of their moment. First a letter from the papers of Commander Eli Banner, the first commander of Hanm Centre, written shortly before he departed for Hanm:

Sometimes I think I’m getting too old for field assignments, but it’s better than getting fat and old behind a desk core-side, a lowly commander would never get chosen for a relativity cruise cycle1. But I’m basically unattached, and I have some experience in the field, but who knows anyway. This time period never did suit me, and it’ll be interesting to see how the world looks on the other side. A of a long flight; not that the core will matter very much out there I trust. I just hope I get a chance to come back someday.

At the same time, the leaders of the civilian government on the colony world Hanm knew that change in the status quo, at least for their people, was imminent–and strictly speaking, it was–their opposition was to the league presence on Hanm Centre, not, in their mind, to the entire League, as it would later become.2 Or the interstellar political status quo of the previous thousand years. Indeed it we now think that it would have been at least a generation on Hanm from the time that Eli Banner departed the core-side world until he and his convoy would arrive on Hanm.

This is an excerpt from an editorial circulated by early “Hanmist”[^ists] shortly the Navy confirmed that it was sending a high level operations convoy after Commander Eli Banner left the core for Hanm Centre.

Above all, I would like to express my objection to the fact that the outpost currently under-construction in high orbit of the planet will be operated and governed by the League’s Navy. While an easily accessible space outpost in this part of the galaxy is not inherently objectionable, I would like to locate my resistance to Hanm Centre not in terms of resistance to the League at large, but rather in acknowledgment of the fact that the Civil authority on Hanm was not–according to the public record–consulted by the League authorities, and furthermore, the fact that the station is not to be administered or overseen by Hanmish authorities. Indeed, there is no reason that it can be directed and administered by the civil authorities on Hanm, who would surely be the best suited given their experience with the region.

As we can see, the seeds of the “Hanmist Separation” movement were significantly more modest than the militant movement that would follow in their name. In an age where the technology of space travel had paradoxically brought time and history to a virtual stand still, it took by the standards of the day, only a paltry handful of years for the Hanmist movement to sour. Though from our contemporary perspective this may not seem particularly remarkable, it must have been–particularly to the then unknowing Eli Banner.



Notes:

  1. Key leaders of the League and Navy during this era were frequently cycled on and off interstellar flights to help provide continuity with the League’s longer term missions on outer worlds. This kept some level of stability, but meant that policy changed back and forth as various leaders came on and off the cruises. ↩

  2. In fairness, it is only in retrospect that we can make this claim, in a lot of ways, Hanm Centre was of a guilded age of a dying empire of sorts, and the accomplishments of the station and it’s crew though too numerous to list here, were not typical of any late imperial project. afn:istsz:”Hamnism” refers to the political movement started on Hanm (that quickly spread to other large rim worlds) that advocated independence and separation from the League, the policies of continued colonization, and distant centralized government. ↩

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Visa Riots #7

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 28th August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is the final installment, of 6 7 parts. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. Enjoy!

“–just to be clear on the story, again: you beat up a maintenance worker, crawled halfway across the London dome, snuck into the transport dock, and hijacked a pod and flew to Marrakesh Dome?” Salimia asked, in disbelief: a grin slipping across her face.

Selimia was one of the city administrators, young, fierce, and commanding despite her slight figure. Their fathers had been colleagues, during dome building, and they had played together as children.

Edwin had expected that Salimia would pay them a visit in holding cell–their bedraggled appearance, and long flight in a London Dome maintenance pod reflected poorly on them as possible immigrants or visitors. Bun insted, without hearing their story, or even seeing them, once she had gotten word of their arrival had managed to advocate favorably for Perr and Edwin

Now–a shower and a change of clothes later–they were just like old friends having lunch at a quaint cafe on the streets of Marrakesh.

As if all the worlds great cities weren’t presently aflame. Marrakesh had avoided riots: it’s residents had more connections to the Corps and the Colonization authority because it was the, It helped that the population was smaller when the dome was built so it avoided the pinch after the baby boom.

“Different order, I think,” Edwin said, laughing.

“And it wasn’t halfway across the dome, we weren’t more than a few miles from the transport dock,” Perr said.

Salimia was dismissive. “Whatever, you’re here now. I think we can get you spots on the next shot to orbit, if you want,” she said.

“I’m not sure that we’re ready to leave, there’s work left to be done on Earth,” Edwin said.

“–someday, I might take you up on the offer,” Perr said. Her enthusiasm was not as rabid.

“Don’t wait too long,” Salimia said. “Marrakesh didn’t fall, and we can learn from this mess, but I’m not convinced that there’s as much time as you’d need.”

Edwin smiled, “We’ll see…”

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Visa Riots #6

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 27th August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 6 of 6 7 parts. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. Enjoy!

“What do we do now?” Edwin asked when he was fully awake, still tired, but awake. He was still filthy, but he hadn’t slept well enough to care and there were more pressing concerns.

“I think we need to leave here,” Perr said, from another sofa on the other side of the door. She was still groggy but had been awake for several minutes. “I don’t want to be around when the owners come home and see this,” she said waving her hand over all remnants of their meal the previous night.

The riot had slowed over night, but there were still intermittent sounds from outside the door, as there had been all night. Edwin wasn’t even sure that it was even properly morning.

“Right, sis, but how,” Edwin said.

“Do you think they’ve opened the dome for venting?”

“We’re still hear aren’t we? So probably.”

“Do we know anything that might be useful. I don’t think there’s power here. I don’t have a terminal with me,” Edwin said, sitting up.

“It was coming toward the transport complex. It’s probably about this visa thing, I mean? What else?”

“Right. We still need to get out somehow, we could try and get out of the dome through the venting, but that’s a dead-end, probably.”

“I’m sure it’s safe out there. The Domes are more connivence than necessity at this point,” Perr said.

“Especially when the fucking city is on fire. If we get out of the dome, what’s to say that the next…”

“Right. The transport complex’s closed… didn’t Dad’s company have a little dock port? It’s still there, I’m sure there’s a trans–” Perr said, her voice trailing off. “–from this side, come on.” She jumped up and began to walk down the hallway toward one of the building linkages.

Edwin scooped up a couple of water bottles and a few snacks and followed her. “Wait, Perr, what the hell?”

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Visa Riots #5

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 26th August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 5 of 6 7. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4. Enjoy!

The there were, it turns out, riots under many of the domes. The previous day the colonial consortium had released the procedures and policies regarding the next–and first mass scale–emigration wave to Mars and the Moon. For years the only colonists have been the scientists, engineers, technician and their families. Other people got to go, but you had to know someone in the contracting firms.

Now everyone got to go.

At least that’s what people had hoped. The truth was slightly different.

There were only so many spots, after all, and the consortium decided, basically, that only certain people who had already filed initial paperwork (more scientists, technicians, and the like) and a subset of people selected by the consortium based on a closed algorithm would be able to emigrate off world.

Thirty years ago the consortia couldn’t pay people enough to recruit them into the Space Corps, not even the engineers could be convinced to move–likely permanently. The domes were going up all over Earth. Domes provided weather control, solved the power generation problem, protected old cities that would have been lost of toxic rain, and kept the encroaching deserts and the oceans out.

The economy boomed: there was no reason to leave. Understandably, a baby boom followed shortly.

The astute reader can see where this is going.

The domes, most of Earth’s population centers became overpopulated, underemployed, and unmanageable over the next 20 years. Domes which were designed to last for centuries, didn’t. The consortium had always argued that in addition to mostly solving the energy problems of most cities, the big domes would “get us all ready to colonize.”

No one expected people to be so ready so soon.

And then the only chance to get off of Earth, was restricted by the same consortium that built the Domes.

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Visa Riots #4

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 25th August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 4 of 6. Read part 1, part 2, and part 3. Enjoy!

There was a small suite of offices and “studio” apartments suite. Home to probably a few dozen people and employes. It wasn’t large, or in great shape, but it was serviceable. Which was more than could be said about the street. Other than the air, the rooms were basically unharmed by the riot going on just outside the windows. Odd, but not entirely surprising.

Perr moved away from Edwin though they both stayed close to the walls: never letting each other out of their view. But now, given the safety of the calm–even if it was transient, the muffled noises of the riot echoed in the hallway–they kept a distance from each other. Even if it wasn’t totally safe to inhale yet, they could finally exhale.

It took a moment or two for the sense of relief to set in, despite the riot and the trespassing and the utter confusion which still hadn’t settled. “Got to get out,” Edwin said, suddenly in shock–or greater shock as the case may be. He backed up against a wall to survey the room more constantly. The calm and security of this place summed an urgent craving for personal space. Where as a moment ago, they had clung to each-other for safety, now they instinctively separated for safety.

Perr needed to differentiate self–body–and the urge was almost blinding.

“Ok, what are… going to do?” Edwin asked, blinking forcefully.

“Ed–Eddie,” Perr cried. No one had called him Eddie in years.

“…you alright?” He said, concern for the laps into childhood names overpowered his distress–at least for the moment.

“What are we going to do?” She asked, her voice a wrasp.

Edwin tried to move but managed to trip over his shoes. “Ok, we need food and water.” He said, deciding to stay put for the moment

Perr nodded toward a cabinet next to a food prep unit. “Ok,” Edwin said.

“What happened?” She asked.

“I don’t… don’t know. We need get out of here, once able.”

“Right. We’re… 2 blocks from the ‘port?” Perr said.

Edwin nodded. “Not going to be able to get in the front door. And no ships today.” He fell into a nearby chair. “Stuck.”

“Can we make it upside, without the street?” She asked seeming to relax a bit.

“I think. Longer?” Edwin managed, pointing toward a hallway.

“We’ll take it. Better than nothing.” Perr said. “But first we need to eat.”

“Yes.”

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Visa Riots #3

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 22nd August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 3 of 6. Read part 1 and part 2. Enjoy!

Edwin hadn’t seen the door when he started towards the structure. It was intuition, or something, such doors were not all together uncommon on this level, after all. The door’s catch/lock mechanism had been broken in, but with two stores, the crowd had ignored the little door once they saw that there was only a long stair case that didn’t lead to anything obviously remunerative. The mob left well enough alone and continued on their way. Wherever that was. Mobs had their own logic and masters.

Right now, a staircase felt like the find of a lifetime. Even though it was a manual. They stumbled against each other–and the door–until they finally managed to get inside and get the door closed behind them. The air was just as bad inside as out and it was–if possible–a little darker. But the door deadened the noise slightly, and they were alone. Blessedly.

Edwin relaxed his hand a bit–didn’t let go–just loosened his grip on Perr’s hand and hoping that he’d feel the circulation return in a moment or two. They were leaning against the wall, still delighted to find a brief moment of peace. Perr’s grasp on Edwin’s hand loosened after a moment. There was silence as they struggled with the impulses to both breathe deeply to catch their breaths and avoid breathing to save our lungs from the smoke that was lingered in the air.

They dropped hands.

Someone from the outside crashed–or was pushed–into the door, the catch held, and Edwin and Perr both instinctively reached out to keep the door from opening, and held tight. When the moment passed they gripped each other: this was not a time to be disconnected.

“Up?” she croaked, looking for consensus.

Edwin nodded, looked up and realized that he had no clue where he might get the energy to climb these stairs.

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Visa Riots #2

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 21st August 2008. (commentary)

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 2 of 6. Read part 1. Enjoy!

“Where?!” Perr cried. This time, he was listening for her. This time she knew where he was. Nonetheless, Edwin was still surprised that the volume of a single voice could still cause pain, even in this racket. A welcoming, and oddly comforting surprise.

There were no ships leaving today, or this week even. The complex was simply open to interview visa applicants. “We even had reservations at a ground level eatery for dinner,” Edwin thought. “This kind of thing had happened before in North American cities. Never in a dome. This wasn’t supposed to happen in London Dome. London Dome!“

“We just need to get out of this for the moment. Nothing leaving today, remember? Higher up?” Edwin screamed.

“Smoke Rises!” Perr cried, interrupted by a fit of coughing and hacking. “No Up!” And she was right.

“Although, the air quality was for shit down here, it was probably better that we get off the streets–at any level.” Edwin thought before he yelled at a “Door! This way!” Edwin tugged on Perr’s arm in the general direction of of the nearest structure.

Perr protested, mostly in confusion, but they moved together anyway. There were enough people and enough confusion, and enough collective momentum that, Edwin was able to steer them toward the door without much effort. Mostly, they drifted.

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