Talk:Space Princesses

Aurora Alloces Citrine Ovsol-Klystron

I wear this expression more often than not these days, it seems.

• Virtue: Genetic superwoman, Rifter roots, Practical education
• Vice: Clueless in high society, Practical education
• Rank: Head of House Ovsol-Klystron (population 1)
• Does not support war against the Rift
• Atheist
• (Upper) class traitor
• Free marketer
• Aspirations and Goals: Find my social feet in this viper's nest
• Outlawed Rifter gene-hax: Expert
• Ship operations: Professional
• Streetwise: Layman
• Finances: Layman
• Socializing: Terrible

About my name

Aurora Alloces Citrine Ovsol-Klystron

What does this tell you about myself? Like all nobility - yes, I can be addressed as Nari but I am also Captain - my name is multipart and meaningful.

Aurora is my given name. That which shines brightly.

Alloces is derived from the family of my father, an intellectual from beyond the Great Wall.

Citrine is a reference to the golden-yellow eyes I had even as a newborn.

Ovsol is my noble prefix, and it is noble indeed. I hardly need to clarify that every title granted during a reign of an Emperor shares the same prefix and every Emperor's prefix is unique. But I can see you don't recognize mine. Is it one of those unusual ones that break this rule, such as those given to the survivors of the Siege of Bataria? Say it out loud. 'Ovsol'. 'Of Sol'. Sol, the star around which humans originated and all but abandoned in the Exodus. Comprehension dawns, I'm sure.

And finally Klystron is my surname. Would you recognize any Klystrons, you ask? Doubtful, unless you go into the history books and find the Galtz-Sonika Affair. We have been one of the House Obscura for a long, long time.

My Story

When I was 11, my parents vanished. The ship they were one dissapeared mid-jump with everyone onboard. An event rare enough to make some minor headlines, but not so rare as to be unheard of. At a stroke I was alone, the last Ovsol-Klystron. I had relatives, an aunt and grandparents, but they were on my father's side - beyond the Great Wall. While I did spend a third of a T-year on the far side of the Great Wall after my parent's dissapearance, this was not to be my home. I was instead sent to school in Luxor, capital of a hundred worlds as an Emperor's Ward where I stayed for the next five years. I have little to say about that time; I made few contacts and fewer friends. I will grant that it was an education, if nothing else. By age 16 it was clear that without a House or a patron I was faced with several choices; join the Fleet as an ensign and hope to one day claw my way up to some small rank, be a petty bureaucrat for a position that needed a title but little else, join the debutante scene and hope to snag someone with rank or money, join the clergy or simply flee back to the far side of the Great Wall.

I chose none of these.

The Klystrons had some wealth stashed away; savings and survivor's pension. That, plus my small stipend I recieved as a Ward was enough for the down payment on a (frankly usurious) mortagage; by age 17 I was the owner and sole proprietor of a cargo ship older than myself, the 413 Rampant Phoenix (a certain subset of Imperial shipping concerns have shockingly limited creativity). Hardly uncommon - many ships are owned by individuals, even if many more are owned by Houses or large commercian firms - but mine was a rare case indeed. As a noble, I could rightfully call myself not just Shipmaster, but Captain. A minor distinction, but an important one in a very specific way - as Captain I could bid on various shipment contracts for the Fleet, even ones to the front lines. These were, of course, the most profitable and I was up to my eyeballs in debt. All was well for five years, just me and as few crew as I could manage moving all manner of military supplies from reaction gasses to flowtanks to livestock to garrison troops (I paid out of pocket to have my ship cleaned after transporting livestock. I paid out of pocket to have my ship cleaned twice after transporting garritroops - never again!).

It was on the eve of the 108th Gran Plemora, that greatest of all celebrations - save only coronations themselves - that marks the once-a-decade creation of another wormhole seed by the Star Forge when my life changed forever. I was transporting a shipment of interface fighters to Ultima Thule, passenger cabins taken up by Monsignor Mornstein-Montfort - an unusual priest who made regular trips through the sector and had found my unflinching atheism a challenge - and the sisters Lasalle - the two Fleet officers in charge of the interface fighters and who were a study in contrasts and sibling rivalries - when the message came through. Princess Zarya had been on an inspection tour and was returning to the capital for the Gran Plemora when reavers stuck her ship. We were onboard the only ship less than a day's travel away.

The rest is, as they say, history.

I had never expected to actually go to the Gran Plemora, but there I was. My beat up transport limping into a parking orbit, portside cargo shell still torn open from where I'd rammed the reaver across its engine deck, surrounded by gleaming, gold-skinned ships of the Guard - a Crown Yacht, the princess having paid me honor for her rescue.

What comes next is legend.

The Great Wall

It should not come as a surprise that an entity such as the Phoenix Empire has its eras of strength and eras of weakness. It was during one of the latter - the 7th century - that raiders from beyond the Great Rift were striking with unprecedented range into the Empire, tying up a disproportionate amount of the Fleet to stymie with what were, in truth, pinpricks. All this changed with the ascension of Emperor Khartu the Younger; the 72nd Gran Plemora was a decidedly military affair. Khartu the Younger stunned many of the assembled nobles when he announced where the new wormhole was to go; directly from the star system of Reunion - the heart of the Fleet itself and a single wormhole transit from Luxor - to the very edge of Imperial space in the system that became known as Bastion, to be a bastion of civilization against the darkness beyond the Rift. Aggressive raids across the Rift were coupled with massive static constructions, eventually erecting a wall of blast-cannons and hyperdetectors stretching across a hundred lights.

Khartu the Younger never saw this come to completion, of course - he died under 'mysterious circumstances' less than two decades after coming to power. It is likely however that if those who arranged these mysterious circumstances had been forewarned the identity of emperor who would come after him, they would have wished Khartu the Younger a long reign. I speak, of course, of Martianis the Crusader, the 'Mad Emperor' who launched a half-dozen crusades against the heretic and deviant and most importantly, those who were not paying all their due taxes to the Throne. Dozens of Great House Domains that had become all but independent by the late 6th century found themselves very much Imperial possessions by the end of the 7th.

For his part, Martianis (who was completely sane his entire life) died peacefully in bed after a half-century in power. His successor was Empress Oxianne who spent her reign reconsolidating the Empire and putting it on a course for the golden age of today. As for those beyond the Great Wall? The Rifters were able to evade the defenses, for a time, but eventually it became more trouble (often lethally) than any possible wealth. And so they found other amusements.

Today the route from Reunion to Bastion is still under Fleet authority, with a bare handful of ships passing daily. The Great Wall sector is poor and Riftspace is even poorer (or so it is believed, anyhow . . .) and the Empire has seen fit to leave the Great Wall as a permanent border, its massive automated fortifications cold and silent. On this side is Civilization, on the far side is genetic deviance, faithlessness and anarchy. For their part, the Rifters trade some and smuggle some into the Empire

The Rifters and I

My father was my primary caregiver. He was also a Rifter. My mother called me 'her little rifter'. Growing up on the edge of Imperial space and cocooned by a loving family I had no idea what this would mean in the future. School as an Emperor's Ward was difficult. I had attitudes and opinions and habits that weren't even frontier, some were downright foreign. Alien. My first fumbling attempts to fit in with the others were failures and I soon learned that I would be left more alone if I were weird and antisocial instead of trying to be a good little Ward. I paid just enough attention in the various classes for social graces to avoid administrative opprobium.

Departing school and striking out on my own was liberating in ways that I cannot even describe. No longer was I 'that Rifter'; I was simply another cog in the Empire's vast economy, albeit one with unusual looks and an archaic noble name. But so long as the cargo I carried or the payments I owed arrived on time, no-one saw fit to complain. I managed to return to my distant family several times, each time returning a little bit richer than I would be otherwise thanks to what I admit were less than entirely legitimate cargoes.

Now? I am to be a courtier, and not just any but a favorite of the Emperor. Among the many, many things I am expected to do is dress up for balls. I have barely worn anything save shipsuits for the past five years. Rifter shipsuits.

Tahminah Mina bint Yasmin al-Lasalle & Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle

Tahiminah Mina bint Yasmin al-Lasalle

• Virtue: The greatest dragoon
• Vice: Ice cold martinet
• Rank: Eldest daughter of house al-Lasalle, one of the greatest in the empire
• Military Rank: Colonel
• Allies: Ravhana, Yasmin al-Lasalle, (Her mother) Ensign Beatrice al-Monad (assistant), Miranda (Her batwoman/maid)
• Enemies: Ravhana, Major al-Smythe The Royal Blue's XO, Duke Askar Michael ibn Ibrahim al-Gramont, an older man she had an affair, and a terribly bitter break up with.
• Politics: Not an emperor of merchants but an empire of conquerors!
• Religion: No one is in control of my destiny but me but one must maintain appearances
• Economic views: Quality things to those of quality.
• Rival Twins
• Nothing is ever easy
• Unlucky in love
• The Royal Blue Dragoons
• The Battle of Platform September (in which she won a name for herself)
• Bringing a Dragoon to a free space engagement (and winning)
• Aspirations and Goals: Do deeds worthy of her house and name.
• Piloting: Expert
• Imperial Officer: Expert
• Personal combat: Professional
• Social Etiquette: Professional
• Literature: Professional
• Making Friends: Terrible
• Managing her love life: Terrible
• Resisting sweet things: Terrible
• Suffering fools: Terrible

Ravshana Marika bint Yasmin al-Lasalle

• Virtue: The Greatest Hussar
• Vice: The Greatest Hussar
• Rank: Saravan-Colonel
• Allies: Tahminah al-Lasalle, Fellow Cavalry Officers
• Enemies: Tahminah al-Lasalle, The Duke Gramont the man who broke her sister’s heart (or was it the other way around?), eloped with Spahbed-Marshall Rzvesky's daughter that one time
• Foreign Policy: Any war the Phoenix decrees is as good as another.
• Class Attitude: Contemptuous of Noble Privilege
• Economics: Church Socialism
• Religion: Keep my commandments and live, guard my teachings. Bind them on your thy fingers, write them upon the table of thine heart.
• Aspiration: A glorious war!
• (Expert): Cavalry Command
• (Professional): Martial Arts, Life of the Party
• (Layman): The Church, Streetwise
• (Terrible): Restraint, Easily Duped, Academics

A Mother's Musings

For many centuries we Lasalle have been in the district of Douai-Samarkand. We have never sought out the high domestic offices in such times of peace such as ours, being content to attend on our own affairs. Yet, ours is an ancient race of heroes, and it commands respect for martial deeds; the ringing echo of the keen cry of swords in Lasalle hands – and none alive or dead dare despise a Lasalle sabre – is a refrain of history. In the wrack of turmoil one finds us.

So many victory titles decorate our genealogy, as though the span of man’s endeavors were nothing but a roll of battle honors to our name. I could not speak of all them even were I limit myself to the years of the Phoenix Empire! Was not the very Shahrbaraz, right hand of the first Phoenix herself, a Lasalle? Naudar the Marshall Who Overthrows the Caitiffs, Shayhrara the Verethegna, Ozra the Admiral Who Plucks Out Odin’s Eye, Shirin the First of Pehlivas, Malala one of the five Tiger Admirals...fufufu, we are still not past the first five centuries!

Have you ever been struck by the thought that you had been to some place, seen something, carried out the same motions before, though you recall nothing of the sort? What an eerie sensation! Our ancestors gave that moment a name, Déjà vu. It comes from the Ancient French, from which our name springs as well, meaning literally already seen.

Don’t frown like that - patience, the change of topic has relevance - your face will get stuck that way. Remember what I said, it is important.

Oh, the taeguk, you recognize it of course? The “Great Polarity” is one of the Phoenix’s symbols: a circle, red on one half, blue on the other, like comets chasing each other’s tails, and inside them a little point of the opposite color: red in blue and blue in red. It is a swirl of conflict, a spiral describing Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yeung, Light and Darkness, Right and Wrong, Unity and Division, the universe itself. Remember this too.

I first learned I was parturient not from a doctor, but from a traveling Mubid. I happened across her – or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she sought me out – in a walled garden. Having forecast from the stars, she drew for me three symbols: the comet, the sword, and the taeguk.

From them I was to take such a meaning. I would have two children in whose time the Phoenix would be perturbed by awful calamity. If divided in their will the Empire would be riven in twain, but whosoever held both their loyalties would rule the world.

I laughed in her face, even as I thanked her.

Why? I expected that question. Think ye, how many of my ancestors heard similar portents? What else was I supposed to feel but Déjà vu!

Crossing Swords

Today I, Captain Ravshana, will duel my sister Tahminah. The Regiment expects it. Honor demands our fifth duel.

I see her standing on the other end of the clearing in the garden, resting a hand on the hilt of her spadroon, as I flourish with my sabre, flowing between guards with twirling moulinettes, turning and wheeling about the green sward as if shadowfighting multiple opponents. She’s staring into a point of space over my head with a slight little frown and a schooled expression that plainly said she sees absolutely nothing of interest. It’s one of the many tiny things she does that pisses me the fuck off. We’re twins, we look so exactly alike that the only way our mother would tell us apart was the ribbons she put in our hair, but one day I woke up and found Tahminah - responsible, studious, perfect, Tahminah - was the elder sister and I was the troublemaker, the little hellion who had to be looked after. Everyone started addressing her first, deferentially, respectfully, while I fidgeted at her elbow like a shadow. How does this shit even happen?

I still don’t understand why she chose the dragoons, with their doldrum uniforms and bad postings, but it sure worked for her. Tahminah is the Model Officer, on the fast track. She’ll be granted permission to raise her own regiment soon enough. I'm behind, always behind. It’s a struggle to keep up.

I conclude my flourish with a few cute little bows, legs crossed at the ankles. Our audience applauds. I hope the weather improves for them, because there’s stormclouds moving on the horizon, and it’d be a shame for anyone to get drizzled on.

My second lifts his eyes from the blue cast of his pocketwatch, “It’s time.”

I snap to attention and kiss the guard of my sabre. Across the little island I can see Tahminah mirroring the gesture with her spadroon. I wink at her. Her green eyes reflect nothing, but her lips turn ever so slightly at the corners.

Today I, Captain Tahminah, will duel my sister Ravshana. The Regiment expects it. This will be our fifth duel.

The garden is beautiful around me. I like gardens. A green space like this is one aspect of perfection. When I go to heaven the angels will greet me with green lawns and countryside, with ice cream and sweets and a truly fast jet cycle. I can rarely indulge such things. I am the elder child of the Lasalle family. I have a responsibility.

I expect her to be late, late or hung over. That, I think, is how I won our second duel. My damn sister, how effortlessly she does all this. My opposite and my twin. She winks and me, I try not to smile and almost succeed. My sister, my easy sister who never seems to have to work at anything. While I practiced at command, the sword, piloting, she drinks and carouses and still somehow manages to match me every step. She won the honour of a red and gold hussars uniform through skill and temperament, while I became a dragoon, a lower class of warrior, beneath my name, so she always tells me.

That uniform could have been yours if you’d wanted it. You didn’t. You swore you’d carve the universe with the weapon you love. Stop thinking and fight.

Our blades cross, and we begin to play the familiar tune.

In the Cradle

The thunder in my ears, the flicker of blackness at the edges of my vision.
In my chair I am naked against space, stars all around. Not even the comfort of a planet below. The stars race crazily in my vision, like windblown snow
My sister, my family, they wonder how I can do this. Proper little Tahminah, why does she fly a dragoon of all things? Such a low class of fighting.
There is no up, there is no down. There is only infinity. I am suspended between two points in the void. My ship and the enemy.
To take into battle only yourself and your rude mechanical servants. To fight in atmosphere, without even the honour of seeing your opponent. Almost helpless against the large vessels of the enemy. An outmoded form of war, not fit for true noble spacers. A dragoon delta. Too small to be a space ship, too big to have even the primitive pomp of a lightweight. Hybrid troops. The worst of all things
I am not alone. No one else was foolish or qualified enough to come out here with me. Around me are my weapons, automated combat systems slaved to my fighter. One is ahead, two are behind. Fire reaches out from the reaver craft ahead. The lead drone dodges frantically then explodes. It dies to get me close. I jink, right, jink left, jammers filling space with electronic ghosts, decoys trailing away. DSM leave the racks and spiral ahead. I pour in behind them, angling my ship for the shot on pirate's forward turret.
They don't understand. They don't understand the feel of a fighter under you. Of knowing your life and your death are in your own hands. They wonder how good little Tahminah can do this. They should ask why she does anything.
I squeeze the firing stud. The fighter vibrates to the beat of the guns. "Enemy point defence destroyed! Phoenix, You're clear!"
This is only part of my life where I am truly in control.

Cavalry and Dragoon ships

In space combat there are really types of combat ship. The ships of the line, cavalry ships and dragoon ships. Ships of the line are the ones people are most familiar with, the large battleships of the empire's main fleets of war. They are fierce fighters but suffer when they are asked to fight against raiders and pirates, or when they are not arranged in the proper formation, when asked to scout or to protect commerce, to hunt down bandits or raiders.

For these tasks the Empire calls upon Cavalry and Dragoon ships.

There is no higher honour than to serve upon a ship of the Imperial Cavalry. Riding through the space lanes, defeating raiders from beyond the wall, guarding merchants and in battle attacking enemy ships before they can deploy into line, the cavalry are an independent and flexible arm. There is no higher honor than to serve among the Empire's cavalry, and no finer fighting force among the stars.

Dragoons are a second type of rapid response, one far less well regarded. They are small STL battlecraft, ostire in their quarters and amenities, carried by larger ships into system to be dropped and fight. Often used for internal security policing, but also to rapidly deploy forces to hold a defensive line, Dragoons have a rather bad reputation, often being the dumping ground for the worst crews, worst quality supplies and worst transports. They are a strange hybrid breed, with the glamour of neither starships nor atmospheric fighters. Rather they are court in between, doing work from holding defenses to carrying out ground strikes, from ICBM interception to boarding work and customs patrols.

Major William Victor de Brightstar

• Virtue: Excellent Staff Officer
• Vice: Alcohol
• Minor Nobel Family (Baron)
• Third in line for the title (So unlikely)
• Allies: Lt Colonel Roger Eric de Brightstar (brother), Cadet Victoria Philippa de Brightstar (sister), Major General Hector Bermudez-Wu (mentor)
• Enemies/Rivals: Colonel Henry Humphries de Brightstar (brother), Admiral Mugombe, Major Katherine Marie Melio
• A strong Empire is a healthy Empire
• Aspirations and Goals: Ensure the advancement of Colonel Lasalle and by extension myself, obtain position in Grand Imperial General Staff and rise to top.
• Mixed Economy (the Empire must ensure a steady flow of resources to the military to ensure its safety)
• Space Easter/Space Christmas Space Catholic
• Bureaucracy: Expert
• Imperial Officer: Professional
• Politicking: Professional
• Protocol: Professional
• Range Weaponry: Professional
• Strategy/Tactics: Professional
• Streetwise: Layman
• Intelligence Gathering: Layman
• Culture/History: Layman
• Stay out of trouble: Terrible

I am William de Brightstar, third son of Baron Humphries de Brightstar. My family was ennobled some five generations ago in thanks for a service performed by my ancestor to empire. While the service wasn’t of great importance to the history of our eternal empire but did much for my family and since then we have dutifully served the throne. Of the current generation both of my brothers serve in the Imperial Cavalry and my younger sister is a third year at the Academy… As for myself, well, while my siblings took to the Line Officer track, I found a real talent for the planning and administrative maneuvering that are the hallmarks of a true Staff Officer. While my brothers look down on me for becoming a ‘mere paper-pusher’ I have found that the true power within the Imperial Navy lies with those controlling the flow of resources and information more than any dash or élan. While some considered me to be 'nosy' and 'officious' few disagreed with my ability to find and make the best use of resources and was considered on track for a position within the Grand Imperial General Staff on Reunion itself. I’ve served as a Staff Officer for six years with a promising, if methodical, climb before running afoul of the corrupt Admiral Mugombe who promptly assigned me to Tahminah Lasalle's unit.

And that is when everything changed…

Erzherzogin Lilavati Bakarne Merit zum Auloniad-Orpheum IV

• Virtue: Ambition tempered by duty.
• Vice: Perfectionism marred by vanity.
• Rank: Erzherzogin of the Orbital Archduchy of Auloniad-Orpheum.
• Other Titles: Imperial Seneschal, Keeper of the Gardens in the Imperial Palace.
• Allies: The lesser nobles and cousins of the House of Auloniad-Opheum, Phrixos Wigberht de Fries (Master of the Imperial Mint), Furisto (a loyal Jovian mastiff).
• Enemies: Astrid zum Aloniad-Orpheum (a legitimized bastard five years older, with a weak claim and boundless ambition), Tex Perses (a jilted lover and now Astrid's own).
• Politics: Conquests and plunder are good for the Imperial reserves, protracted wars with peer enemies are not.
• Religion: There are evils in human nature that not even science can cure. God is the answer.
• Economics: Imperial institutions are good. Legions of bureaucrats tempering noble adventurism is best.
• Aspirations and Goals: Funnel divestments from the Imperial bank to home for disaster relief and retrofitting, acquire husband in matrilinear marriage, produce heir(s), maintain house status, nurse some number of useful friendships.
• Adventurous Passtimes and Flirtations with Falconry
• Gardens and Finance are Rather Alike (Green is Best)
• Suddenly Strange Senior Siblings (Who Are Evil)
• Father Dies Under Strange Circumstances
• The Storm that Shook Orpheum

Sir Annette Bastillet D'Arbour Marissa Sasami Cristebelle I, Protector to the Crown, Countess of Chateautmagne

• Virtue: Killer Vigilance
• Vice: Repressed Fury
• Rank: Knight-Aegis of the Crown
• Other Titles: Knight-Protector of the Order of Towers, Countess of Chateautmagne, Master of Lances in the 4ths Circle Imperial Lancers.
• Allies: Fellow Knights in 4th Circle of Lancers
• Enemies: The People of Marshall's Colony

• Politics: The Crown is always under siege. Blood is the only decisive answer.
• Religion: God left us in a universe stained with blood. We are on our own.

• Aspirations:

• Childhood Among Royalties
• The Bloody Campaign on Marshall's Colony
• The Plundered Goal of Marshall's Colony
• The Assassination attempt on the Prime Minister
• The Theft of the Cup of Towers

Skills

Bodyguarding: Expert

Personal Combat: Expert

Piloting: Professional

Heraldry: Professional

Social Grace: Layman

Composure: Layman

Economics: Terrible