Identity Verification

I originally had an idea for today's story that was about plans for world domination.  It was to be a piece from the point of view of a maniacal villain bent on taking over the planet.  It was going to be dark and powerful.  Then that train of thought fell off the tracks.

Netflix recently released a new version of a show that was beloved to me in my childhood, Voltron.  As I watched the reboot pilot episode, they mentioned each robotic lion choosing its pilot and the match can't be forced.  While their connection has a mystic angle, I got to wondering about a more technological angle for connecting a weapon and wielder.

There was one series that featured laser swords with an added function to the handle.  When someone gripped the handle, the weapon would sample their blood to make sure they were the kind of person allowed to wield such a weapon.  If the DNA didn't have the correct markers, the sword wouldn't activate.  I wanted to take this idea a little further.  What are some other biometrics that could be measured?  Could combinations of these physical traits be unique enough to tell one person from another?

"Alright you punks!  Millions has been spent on your training.  Apparently some high muckety-muck thinks that has earned all of you the right to your own combat equipment.  I don't see it, but they don't pay me to make these decisions."

A group of young, eager troopers sit still and straight in their chairs as a grizzled officer stands at the front of the briefing room.  The scars on his face and cybernetic leg are testaments to his long combat experience.  Behind him is a screen that currently only displays the logo of the military arm of the Interplanetary Expeditionary Forces.  The troopers know the screen will soon be showing them the specifications of the flight systems and weapons programs that will be assigned to them.  While they all respect the old soldier before them, on the inside they are all impatient and want to try out their new gear.

"Now, before any of you are allowed to pilot a flyer, drive a tank, or fire a cannon, it will have to be attuned to you.  Unlike those fantasy sims I know many of you play, there is nothing spiritual or metaphysical about this."

As he continued to speak, bars and graphs began to appear on the screen.  All of the troopers recognized the displays as the readouts of biological scanners.  Only a few knew exactly what each graph meant and what system in a body generated each readout.

"The first time you grip the controls of a newly configured system, it will take a number of biological readings from you.  DNA patterns, resting brain wave patterns, pheromone levels, and other statistics are are unique to each and every one of you.  Once these are all locked into the system's digital memory, it will compare them with the statistics of anyone else that attempts to use that system.  If someone else tries to use a system programmed for you, they will be ejected immediately.  During ground combat, this can be inconvenient.  I won't go into the hazards of this occurring during operations in space."

A quick shudder ran through all the troopers as they considered the realities of suddenly being ejected into a hard vacuum.  It was something all of them had seen the results of, but none wanted to experience personally.  As the group mentally recovered, medtechs entered the room from a side door.
 The officer finished his speech as generic schematics for computer systems and controller configurations flashed across the screen.

"Making these combat systems operable for only one person makes them extremely expensive.  Regardless of what the accountants say, I consider each of them more valuable than any one of you.  Once you have been dispatched, be sure and treasure your equipment and bring it back.  If you don't, I will personally track you down and extract every lost dollar out of your hide.

Now, follow these specialists to the medical bay and they will get you outfitted for your individual attunements."

There are so many different ways today of gathering biological data on an individual.  Would it really be so hard to customize a weapon or vehicle so that only one person can operate it?

I do realize this would be expensive.  It would also nearly eliminate the used car sales industry.  Can you think of any advantages to such a system?

Information Gathering

For centuries humankind has had the terrible talent for torturing other members of its race.  This has been done for many reasons, some seeming legitimate at the time.  People tortured each other to instill fear in their enemies, reinforce religous beliefs, or out of a perverted sense of joy.  The most common reason for torturing an individual, one that is still justified by some to this day, is the extraction of information.

Not every interrogator that resorts to torture causes severe physical pain.  Much can be accomplished by impacting the subject's mind.  Sometimes the person being tortured can imagine worse pain and suffering than the interrogator can actually inflict if the desired answers aren't given.  Rewards, beyond the ending of pain and suffering, can also be used to entice a torture subject to give up the wanted information.  Beyond any legal restrictions, the only limits on a torturer are their own morals and values.

The man sits in a single metal chair.  He is wearing only a tattered pair of shorts.  The chill coming off of the concrete floor and walls isn't enough to cause him to shiver, but is still uncomfortable.  The sole occupant stares at the floor in the glow of the single bulb mounted to the ceiling high over his head.  The starkness of the room allows him to ponder his situation with absolutely no distractions at all.

He doesn't know exactly where he is, but he knows why he is there.  He knows things.  Things only a very few other people know.  Things the other side desperately wanted to know.  Things they would go to any lengths to find out.  He is here so their interrogators can try to extract this information from him.  His only hope for survival is to keep from telling them anything.  If he speaks, then his captors would have no reason to keep him alive.  If the information gets out, his own side would kill him for revealing their secrets.  His entire existence hangs on his ability to keep his mouth shut.  Right now things could easily go either way for him.

The creek and scrape of the single door opening means it is nearly time for his fate to be decided.  A group of three men carry in a metal framework.  Once it is positioned, they all leave.  One of them returns and sets up a simple folding table next to the framework.  The single laborer looks at the subject in the chair and shakes his head slowly as he walks out of the containment room.  After a few minutes, an older gentleman enters the cell with a rolled up bag of tools under his arm.  He wrings a towel in his hands as though drying them.  Once he is satisfied, he tosses the towel on the floor outside the door and kicks it shut with an echoing clang.

The captive looks up at his captor in anticipation of what is to come.  The interrogator pretends his subject is beneath his notice as he steps to the table and unrolls his tool bag.  Many pieces of hard metal glisten in the light of the single bulb.  Sharp edges and spiny points are highlighted by the reflections they give off.  The subject in the chair knows what some of the edges are designed to do.  He is afraid to consider what the others may be intended for.

The men that had carried in the equipment now stand guard outside the room.  Through the door then can hear the faint sounds of the prisoner being strapped into the frame they had carried in.  They knew, from past experience, that the interrogation was about to begin.  A few minutes later, the sounds of screams resonate from inside the cell.  One of the guards glances at his watch.  He then reaches into his pocket and withdraws a couple of dollar bills.  He hands these to the other guard who takes them with a smile.

The sounds of human screams rise and fade and the interrogator continues his attempts to extract information.  The questions can't be heard from outside the cell as the interrogator never raises his voice above a loud whisper.

The sounds continue to rise and fall in volume and intensity for some time.  They finally cease seconds before the door opens once again.  The interrogator steps out of the room and simply confirms that he is done.  Inside, the captor hangs from the framework.  His head hangs loosely, his chin resting on his chest.  Sweat is streaming from nearly every pore and he is suspended motionless by his arms.  No marks are evident on his naked body as the guards step into the room and begin to lower him from the framework.

By no means do I condone torture as a generally acceptable interrogation technique.  However, like any other tool, it can be an advantage when used used with control and discipline.  In a time of war, the safety of one's own soldiers must be paramount.  This can still be ensured without losing a respect for all of humanity.

A Leisurely Cruise

My wife and I enjoyed a short cruise for our honeymoon.  On that same cruise were two groups that had gathered for reunions.  Ever since then, I had liked the idea of a sea cruise as a location for a class reunion.  The only hindrance is a lack of funds to organize such an expensive gathering of good friends and relations.  This doesn't prevent me from mulling over the idea of a cruise and what else may happen while the ship is on the water.  For this story, I thought I would present it in the format of a journal written by one of the passengers.

Day 1:  The ship left the dock this afternoon after everyone was told what to do in case of an emergency.  I still can't believe that someone arranged for our graduating class to have this cruise all to ourselves.  Sure, it's not a very large ship, but we weren't a very large class.  Even with many of my fellow classmates having families now, there is still enough room to get around and I don't feel crowded.  Not even with all the kids on the pool deck.  It seems some of my former classmates have been very fertile in the last couple of decades.  Now to take a few minutes and finish getting myself settled in my cabin.

Day 3:  The food here is fantastic.  I ate so much yesterday, I spent most of my time in a food coma.  The easy access to so many tropical mixed drinks didn't help my desire to sleep much.  The supply of food seems to be endless.  Each time I made a trip to the buffet line, anything that seemed to be nearly out was quickly replenished.  It didn't matter if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, there was always plenty of steaming hot dishes ready.  There are more formal meals planned for other nights of the cruise.  I can't wait to see what those menus offer.

Day 6:  I spent the last couple of days catching up with some of my old friends.  We shared memories of our times together and told stories of what happened to each of us in the years since.  As a group, we then checked out the nightlife the ship had to offer.  None of us was too interested in the casino, so we participated in a few rounds of karaoke.  Our questionable singing skills were enhanced by a few too many drinks.  Nothing like some new stories to share at the next reunion.  I enjoyed the company of one person in particular.  I couldn't help but wonder what may have happened if I'd had the bravery back in school that I had at the end of the night.  I'm sure that kiss goodnight will lead to almost as much gossip now as it would have back in school.

Day 7:  Something isn't quite right.  I don't think any of the other passengers have noticed.  Too many of them paying attention to their families I guess.  The crew, however, all seem distracted.  The captain's voice didn't seem to be its bright and cheerful self during his morning announcements and list of scheduled events.  I also don't think the ship is where its supposed to be.  According to the itinerary, we should be headed back towards port.  The GPS on my phone shows we are still far out to sea and getting further from land.  Did someone hijack our reunion cruise?  Are we all in danger?  Is the captain stealing the ship for some reason?  What is going on?  It will be expensive, but maybe I can call someone on land with my cell.

Day 8:  I couldn't get anyone to answer my calls.  It was almost like nobody was even there.  The captain made an announcement this evening that explained it all.  Something has happened on the mainland.  He wasn't quite clear about what it was that happened.  All he did say was that hundreds of thousands of people are dead.  Communications are very spotty if they are there at all.  It seems like our cruise ship, and a few others like it, are now the lifeboats for humanity itself.

Day 9:  The attitude all over the ship has changed.  Parents are still letting their kids play, but the laughter seems muted and distant.  Meal times are much more restricted as some rationing is now in place to extend our food supplies.  It seems the alcohol isn't being rationed.  Some of my classmates now seem to be drunk all the time.  I'll take the fact not everyone is getting plastered as a good sign for humanity.  What's left of it anyway.

I may continue more of this story later on.  I may not.  I'm not sure yet.  While I decide, what kind of tragedy do you think the cruise ship passengers avoided?  A viral outbreak?  Some kind of massive EMP?  National riots and a breakdown of society itself?  Let me know in the comments.

A Day In The Mines

The curses of the Real World imposed themselves and prevented me from posting my last regular blog.  For that, I apologize.  I am adjusting many of my usual routines and patterns to accommodate a shift in my employment.

For today's post, I have been considering those that have entered the mining profession.  They risk their lives to work deep under the surface of the Earth and collect the metals and minerals we take for granted on a daily basis.  Silver, copper, and even salt all must be extracted from the dirt by people that spend long stretches of time away from the light of the sun.

In recent years, many people have discussed a secondary source for many of these minerals.  It would still require the risks and skill of miners.  However, reaching this source comes with a new set of challenges.  After all, it takes more than a pick and shovel to mine an asteroid.

The locator beacon was transmitting its signal loud and clear.  The survey crew had marked a very promising rock.  Their preliminary scans and tests seemed to indicate the presence of iron and copper ores along with some other trace minerals.  As the only miner close enough to reach it without exhausting too much fuel, Jackson would be the one luck enough to make a claim on the asteroid.  If he survived the excursion, this haul would make him a very tidy profit.  There might even be enough funds left over to upgrade some of the systems in his craft.  A larger cargo pod would mean larger future hauls for even more profit.  That would have to wait until Jackson had a chance to see exactly how much he could extract from this rock.

The beacon was about 5 degrees to his left and about 20 degrees under his feet.  A couple of short bursts from his maneuvering thrusters would place the beacon directly in front of him.  A brief burn of his main engine would start narrowing the 50 kilometer distance.  He could close the gap more quickly with a longer burn of his engine, but that would cost more fuel now and again when it came time to slow down and approach the asteroid itself.  Besides, the longer travel time would give Jackson more time to power up and run diagnostics on his mining equipment and space suit.

Some time later, Jackson is standing on a large barren rock.  The ticking of his landing thrusters as they cool unheard behind him.  His helmet keeping him alive and and blocking out any slight sounds that might make their way through the emptiness around him and the asteroid.  The only things Jackson could sense were the sounds of his suit's air recycler and the pressure of the suit itself on his body.  The lamps on his helmet don't brighten the omnipresent darkness much more than a few feet in front of him.

Jackson sticks the probe in his left hand deep into the powdery soil clinging to the surface of the asteroid.  He extracts the probe and places the sample in its tip into the machine he had been dragging behind him for testing.  As he waits for the results, he is momentarily envious of the tales of his great-grandfather and grandfather and their years mining.  It was said they could both swing a pick into the ground and pull it out.  They would then lick the dirt that stuck to the tip.  They each had the legendary ability to taste whether or not the ground had enough profitable ores to stake a claim.  Jackson had been tempted more than once with the urge to test his own sense of taste and its affinity for minerals.  It was the need to maintain a seal on his helmet that kept him from doing so.

Jackson had traveled about half the distance between his landing spot and the survey team's beacon.  He had collected enough samples to know the powdery "soil" had enough trace minerals to make it worth collecting.  It would require deeper probes into the harder core material of the asteroid to determine how much profit, if any, there would actually be.

If it were possible right now, would you want to be a part of a team surveying asteroids for possible minerals?  Or would you prefer the solitary existence of a miner itself?  While mining asteroids is still firmly planted in science fiction, much of the technology to do it does exist today.

Who Is Snoke?

Since the day Star Wars:  The Force Awakens was released into theaters, people have been guessing and publicly theorizing on the true identity of the dark Supreme Leader Snoke.  Some claim to prove that Darth Vader survived his funeral pyre and became Snoke.  Others claim it to be Darth Sidious/Emperor Palpatine, wounded when he survived the destruction of the second Death Star.  More still offer up facts that support the despised Jar Jar Binks as the one behind the holographic projection of Snoke.

I have an idea of my own.  It is supported by as much evidence as any of the other theories floating around out there.  The true identity of Supreme Leader Snoke is none other than Gaston from Beauty and The Beast.  Below are the facts that lead me to think this.

Snoke's wounds.  Gaston could easily have received head wounds like those seen on Snoke as he fell from Beast's castle.  His pale coloring could also be explained by some time spent exposed to the snow and cold waters present after the battle at the castle.

The Force.  Gaston's inability to use The Force would not be a handicap.  Nowhere is it shown that Snoke is able to use The Force.  He leads those under him with a strong hand and a drive that gets them to willingly follow him blindly.  Gaston has shown a similar ability to get others to follow him without anyone considering their own actions.

Size.  Gaston has a huge ego and sense of entitlement.  If he were to use a holographic system to communicate with his underlings, that projection would certainly be of considerable size.  The immensity of Snoke's image would only be fitting for a self-image as large as Gaston has.  After one view of Gaston's arms collection in his hunting lodge, is a weapon the size of a planet powered by a sun really much of a stretch?

Getting around.  All the different worlds in Disney's universe are interconnected.  This can be seen with the occasional appearance of characters from one area in another.  The methods are further exploited by Sora and others in the Kingdom Hearts video games.  With the recent inclusion of the worlds of Star Wars into the enveloping arms of Disney, it's not impossible to imagine a manner of transportation from the village Belle and Gaston lived in to the planetary weapon in The Force Awakens.

Are there any connection between Gaston and Snoke I missed?  Do you have an issue with one of the reasons I listed?  Is there someone you think would fit the bill better?  Leave a comment and let me know.

Endings

When planning a road trip you look at where you are, where you are going, and any stops you may want to visit along the way.  Writing a novel is generally done in the same way.  Figure out where the characters start and who they are.  Then, put them into situations that challenge them along their journey to the end of the story.  That is how it's supposed to work anyway.

Sometimes the characters refuse to cooperate and decide they want to take a different route than originally planned.  They would rather go and see The Alamo instead of taking the northern route by Mount Rushmore. I am having trouble finishing off my current novel, the sequel to Dangerous Stars.  One of the characters wanted to be playful, so I wrote in a prank for him to pull off.  Now my cast of crew mates doesn't want the story to end.

Until I manage to get them in line, here is a sample scene from the as yet untitled novel.

In the space outside, the CARRION CRUISER reaches a distance from the KRENNET that would barely be considered safe for maneuvering by nearly any pilot in space. The captain of the CARRION CRUISER transmits a signal directly to the KRENNET that Crystal relays to Traylor.

“This is Gierness Johnson, captain of the CARRION CRUISER. Delivery has been completed and accepted. The cargo is alive and well in your possession. We will depart this system once payment has been made and your AI sends ours the deposit authorization code.”

“Captain Johnson, this is Traylor. I am the pilot of the KRENNET. We were not authorized to make any kind of payment or credit transfer at this time. That wasn't a part of the instructions we agreed to. The previous carriers didn't require anything before their departures. It is our understanding that payment will be arranged by the officer that dispatched you with your orders.”

“No! I refuse to split any more payments with a little rat of a middle man that risks nothing more serious than a sore on his ass from sitting in his chair too long. We take the chances with the authorities, we risk our lives handling these and transporting these scum. We deserve more than just a pittance to live on. Now, either pay us or give us all the slaves you have. We'll deliver them ourselves and get the big payday.”

As Captain Johnson spoke, a series of alarming indicators activate on Traylor's panels. Crystal confirms what Traylor is seeing. “The other ship is activating their weapons systems and they are targeting us.”

Traylor thumbs a switch that will broadcast her voice through the entire ship. “Attention all personnel. Passengers secure yourselves to your bunks. Crew to stations. The CARRION CRUISER has taken an aggressive stance and we expect to be attacked at any minute. All airlocks are being automatically sealed. Passengers, be aware all hatches between cargo bay decks are automatically secured as well. In case of injury, please remain where you are until the threat has passed and help will be dispatched to you.”

While I try to get everyone in line, feel free to get yourself a copy of Dangerous Stars and Post Exodus to enjoy.  Once you've read them, leave a comment here or a review on your favorite site saying what you thought.

Beginnings

Every story has a beginning.  From "Once upon a time..." to "It was a dark and stormy night..." the start of a story is how the mood is set and characters are introduced.  Sometimes the details of a characters history, or that of the world itself, may be revealed as the story develops.  Other times these details are explained in the opening chapter.  Regardless of when the background is mentioned, it is the opening of a story that grabs the reader.

Here is an opening that has been running around my noggin for some time.  I don't know if there will ever be more of a story to go with it, but that is beside the point.

The sun is nestled in the mountains of the distant horizon.  The blue of the sky had been washed away by reds and oranges The light on the opposite hills had darkened with the departure of the day.  The peaks above the hills still glowed with the last of the waning light.

The strip of a black road stretches through the valley between the glowing heights and the shrinking orb.  Strolling beside the darkened strip is a lone figure.  He walks towards the setting sun, his back in shadow as he moves.

The air cools as the colors in the sky fade to black.  The shadows cast by the small brush on the valley floor disappear completely as the light of the sun vanishes.  The lone figure continues to walk in the dark.  The faint light of the full moon allowing him to maintain his path along the road.  His past lay behind him, distant but not forgotten.  The uncertainty of his future lay beyond the horizon before him.  Between the two was just the here and now.

We are all on a journey from the past into the future.  What happens on that journey may not always be planned or desired.  However, which path is taken and how fast it's traveled is entirely up to each and every one of us.