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Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
18% [17 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
5% [5 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
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15% [14 Votes]

Norm One - (Redemption)
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14% [13 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
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Started: 09 July 2016

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September Fanfic Challenge
Anniew
Ooh Hugbot. It kinda joins up with my Zen story and developers a basic idea into something special. A very interesting and beautifully written ( as always) story.

And Sue - loved Vila and the violin and that Avon's hobby is looking out for Vila. Hope I got that right??? If I did it increases the sadness of Orbit a thousand fold.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Travisina
The brilliant stories continue to roll in!

Anniew, your nits story made me laugh out loud - I wish I could turn all life's irritations into funny stories! Grin

Littlesue & Lurena, I love your picture of Vila playing the violin. But although he's probably got the dexterity to play it, I think he'd be too lazy to invest the discipline and hours of practise needed for that instrument. I rather imagine him with an accordion, playing racy or sentimental ballads in a Western-style bar... actually, now it's got me thinking, what instruments would the other crew play? Rather than hijack this thread, I'll start a new one.

Hugbot, your Zen story is both brilliant and disturbing - I detected elements of 'The Matix' and Torchwood's 'Children of Earth' and all sorts of other mind/machine/alien melding stories that give me nightmares. It's a very clever idea - I love the way you (and Annie and others) are exploring the character of Blake's 7th crew member.

Kudos, everyone Smile
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Ellen York
Hugbot, that was both fascinating and creepy. And in Redemption the Altas are connected to The System, so it makes sense that the DSVs would be a combination of organic and mechanical components.
 
meegat39
Great story Hugbot! Very, very creepy though
"If you didn't want the answer, you shouldn't have asked the question."
 
purplecleric
Well, my nerves are truly on edge now.

First the thought of a violin in the hands of a beginner. The girl next door is learning to play - either that or she is torturing cats. However, it's an entertaining explanation to the noise that Cally hears.

And Hugbot, whoa that's opened up some avenues of thought, none of them pleasant. It completely fits the B7 world, with the Alta organic technology and Ultraworld. For me, it brought to mind the tanks in Minority Report and a far more sinister take on the concept of brainships. Good job - I'd love to read more.
 
purplecleric
Soul Music

Cally frowned and rubbed her temples. There was that sound again but a quick glance around the flight deck at her crew mates revealed she was the only one who could hear it. Tiredness, it was just tiredness. They’d been at their stations for hours trying to navigate their way through the combined danger of an asteroid field and frequent Federation patrols.

The humming continued.

At first she’d barely been aware of it. She’d banged the console a couple of times, thinking that a loose connection was vibrating. It prompted a snarky remark from Avon about percussive maintenance being the common approach of the ignorant.

Now she’d noticed the humming, it was proving difficult to ignore.

Cally adjusted the headphones and fiddled with the settings. She was monitoring the communications between pursuit ships, trying to glean any information that would help the Liberator crew find a safe route. In the background, behind the call signs and coded exchanges, she could hear the hum.

‘Zen, scan these channels. Look for interference, maybe from a large metallic mass or an energy field.’

‘Problem, Cally?’

Blake moved over to her station and studied the instruments. Cally switched the channel from headphones to the speakers and various crackly voices could now be heard.

‘There. Do you hear it?’

Blake listened for a moment then shook his head.

‘Maybe you've got a defective headset.’

Zen provided confirmation.

+ No interference detected. +

The proximity alarm sounded, drowning out the humming temporarily but it didn't hide Jenna’s muttered comment.

“Defective head, more like.”

Her words lingered in Cally’s mind as she flopped onto her bunk, exhausted but too distracted by the humming to sleep. It would be easier to ignore if it was just a monotonous tone but there were patterns of pitch and volume that were almost...speech? Song? Like skittish insects, the harder Cally tried to pin down the content the more elusive it became.

Cally lay in the dark, listening. Hoping it was a mind companion to share the loneliness of exile. Fearing an unscrupulous manipulator who would prey on her needs. Dreaming of communion. Dreading madness.

All the while, the humming provided a soundtrack to her thoughts.

The morning sounds of the usual light-hearted debate into what constituted a proper breakfast greeted Cally. She reeled against the onslaught of noise and decided to give the meal a miss. Instead she grabbed Orac and headed for the medical bay. She needed answers.

Orac made the usual protests about trivial matters but finally relented. It ran various scans, interrogated her extensively on the phenomenon and then fell silent, apart from its usual soft buzzing noise, as it analysed the data. As she waited, Cally’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on the counter. She had just realised that her fingers were moving in time to the humming when Orac delivered its diagnosis.

‘Tinnitus.’

‘Tinnitus?’

‘The term given to hearing sounds from within the body rather than from an outside source. It is rarely a sign of-’

Cally removed Orac’s key, cutting him off mid-explanation. Her face took on a thoughtful expression as she turned the key over in her hands.

‘Hmm, tinnitus. So the noise is mine.’ Her hands stilled and a smile slowly spread across her face. ‘Then it can be anything I want it to be.’
 
Anniew
It would be easier to ignore if it was just a monotonous tone but there were patterns of pitch and volume that were almost...speech? Song? Like skittish insects, the harder Cally tried to pin down the content the more elusive it became.

Cally lay in the dark, listening. Hoping it was a mind companion to share the loneliness of exile. Fearing an unscrupulous manipulator who would prey on her needs. Dreaming of communion. Dreading madness.

Lovely positive story and I particularly enjoyed the above, precise, economic, emotive description !
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
@PC
Very nice!
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Hugbot
Fascinating story, PC!

purplecleric wrote:

It prompted a snarky remark from Avon about percussive maintenance being the common approach of the ignorant.


'Percussive maintenance' - that's great, very Avon-like! GrinGrin Reminds me of a day about 30 years ago when some friends and I watched a sci-fi movie and one of my friends suddenly said, 'Hey, wasn't the green uniform of that bloke blue a few moments ago?' The owner of the hi-tech TV set didn't say a word, but just stood up, went to the device, deftly applied a karate chop to the side and went back to his seat. The uniform was blue again. Sometimes, percussive maintenance works!

Cally lay in the dark, listening. Hoping it was a mind companion to share the loneliness of exile. Fearing an unscrupulous manipulator who would prey on her needs. Dreaming of communion. Dreading madness. [...] ‘So the noise is mine.’ Her hands stilled and a smile slowly spread across her face. ‘Then it can be anything I want it to be.’

That is an intruiging concept (and beautifully executed, as AnnieW already said). I know a guy who was raised on a farm and later dutifully took over the family business after his parents retired, although he was definitely not born for farming. 'But then I fortunately slipped a disc', he told me. Anyone who had suffered the pain of a slipped disc would abstain from calling it 'luck', but this incident forced my acquaintance to reconsider his life: He leased the farm and began to work in a field that really mattered to him - theatre pedagogy. So it seems possible that an annoying tinnitus might even have a redeeming quality for an Auronar.
 
Hugbot
While reading PC's Soul Music, I was completely on the wrong track. This is where I thought the story was heading:

Forgotten Sounds

Cally frowned and rubbed her temples. There was that sound again but a quick glance around the flight deck at her crew mates revealed she was the only one who could hear it. When the sound appeared again, she was finally able to pinpoint the source: It came from the headset that she had carelessly placed on her console. Curiously, she donned the headset again. Now she realised that what she was hearing was not a uniform noise but a complex, rhythmic structure of well modulated sounds. She fiddled with the controls to improve the reception quality. When the sound got clearer, she could even hear voices – a choir of children singing. But the words were not those of a song for children:

‘... we don’t need no thought control ...’

‘Avon?’ she asked.
A second later he was at her station, looking inquiringly. ‘What is it?’
She handed him the headset. ‘What do make of this?’
Avon put on he headset and listened. There was no longer a children’s choir, but a coarse voice:

‘... we’re on the eve of destruction ...’

For a moment he was puzzled. This was definitely not the stupefying background noise that passed for music in the Federation. Then he suddenly began to smile.
‘Pirates’, he explained, ‘you’ve picked up the transmission of a pirate radio station. They are probably somewhere on a spaceship, hacking into the Federation’s communication satellites.’
He pressed a button to put out the sound via the tannoy. A wave of engaging music swept through the flight deck:

‘... oh dear prime minister, it’s all such a mess ...’

‘I’ve never heard something like this before’, Cally said.
‘Of course not. The Federation has forbidden all sorts of critical music. These pirates have to resort to very old recordings. They are revolutionaries. Maybe their way of fighting the system is better than Blake’s zealous antics.’
He smiled encouragingly at Cally. ‘Turn up the volume’, he requested, ‘we have friends out there.’
 
littlesue
@Hugbot
Those were the days, trying to tune our really old radio to Radio Caroline...
....and then Radio 1 and Tony Blackburn started...' Woke up one morning.....Flowers in the Rain'....
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Anniew
I like it Hugbot! All in all you're just another brick in the wall.....that waits'. Sweet story. I am all smiles cos it's just such a NICE exchange!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
BradPaula
Hugbot, you nearly had me spraying soy milk over my keyboard. Pink Floyd? Brad's favorite band! LOL.

Everyone- well done- all the stories have been wonderful this month!
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
 
Ellen York
Hugbot, I love it; revolution by banned music Grin

I grew up listening to "oldies" ('50s-'70s rock'n'roll, that was what my father liked) and there was plenty of anti-establishment sentiment in that era.
 
Travisina
Wonderful stories, PC and Hugbot!

PC, I love the simple, prosaic nature of Cally's 'hearing things' - very neatly and economically written, and it made me smile.
Hugbot, your story made me laugh, and I agree with what Ellen said - revolution by revolutionary music - great idea!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Travisina
Tithing Day

Across the land the citizens came, from their farms and workshops, from their breweries, bakeries and vineyards. Some carried baskets overflowing with fruit and vegetables, eggs and cheese, loaves of bread and sweet cakes. Others pulled wagons laden with barrels of cider and casks of wine; bolts of shimmering cloth, stacks of painted pottery and and intricately carved furniture. Dressed in their finest clothes, the farmers and townspeople made their way to the market square where land vehicles and flyers waited to transport their goods to the capital. Today was Tithing Day, when the citizens of Obsidian brought the best of their harvest to pay tribute to the man who kept them safe. At noon, the smiling face of their First Citizen would appear on tall vis-screens set up around the square. He would thank his people for their generous gifts and remind them of their good fortune – as if they needed reminding. They knew how lucky they were, safe from the maelstrom of war and oppression that swirled through the galaxy, leaving them untouched.

The weather was fair, the sun high in the clear blue sky. The only clouds on the horizon were those that constantly shrouded the distant mountain. Sometimes these were lit from underneath in shades of red and gold, but the farmers paid them less attention than the clouds that brought the rain. The mountain simmers, but never boils over, the saying went. The volcano was no threat; on the contrary, it shielded them from harm, and some of the older farmers paid it a silent homage while praising aloud the protection they received from their First Citizen.

The market square was crowded as Dori and Shalva arrived with their baskets of lavender. Their neighbour Mira was already there, stacking boxes of roses on to the nearest truck. They exchanged greetings and Mira admired their wares. Both farms specialised in flowers, but there was no rivalry between them. No fences separated neighbour from neighbour; there was no conflict or competition on this peaceful world.

"Citizens of Obsidian!"

Silence fell, as the people turned expectantly to face the vis-screens. Today the First Citizen was not smiling. His expression was sombre.

"Citizens of Obsidian!" he repeated. "We are under attack. We do not intend to give in. We will honor our Sacred Vow."

The people turned to each other with expressions of bewilderment. They knew the Sacred Vow; they had learned it as children, it was recited every day at school. But many things were recited at school, and the words of the Sacred Vow were less relevant to their lives than the alphabet and multiplication tables. They had learned the words by rote, but never truly believed their meaning. The silence in the square was broken by a small child wailing, "No! I don't want to die! Mummy, Daddy, I don't want to die!" He was hushed by his mother. "It is better to die than to live as slaves," she said, but she too was weeping.

There was a distant rumble, then a roar that shook and cracked the ground. Dori and Shalva clutched each other in tight embrace. She turned her face into his shoulder and closed her eyes, but he kept his fixed on the distant mountain. He saw great jets of liquid fire spew into the air, then dark clouds rolling towards them, blotting out the sun. The air was burning, the acrid smell of sulfur mingling incongruously with the scent of scorched lavender and roses. Dori and Shalva sank to their knees, surrounded by spilled flowers. The sky grew red, then a blinding white blast incinerated the surface of the planet, turning the once-peaceful world to fire and ash.

***

Edited by Travisina on 25 September 2015 18:45:45
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Anniew
Oh Travisina - that's a devastating story. I'd just been thinking about Obsidian too and how terrible the act was. You write it so well and it packs such a punch. Ohh definitely cushion time!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
@Travisina
My cushion is now sopping wet through............................
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Travisina
@Annie & Littlesue - thank you!

Volcano is my third-least fave episode and I wasn't sorry to miss this week's rewatch. But it inspired this ficlet which arose out of my disgruntlement that Hower decides unilaterally that it's better to blow up the entire planet than resist or come to some sort of compromise (and that's after being so pacifist that he kills his own son). What of the ordinary people, I always think, do they really want to die too?
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
purplecleric
@Hugbot - Revolutionary pirate radio? What a great idea! I've had a happy time thinking of all the music that could be played, from Won't get Fooled Again to Fascist Groove Thang. And I can picture Avon knowing Pink Floyd, he probably had an illicit stash of Rick Wakeman and Jethro Tull.

@Travisina - again we are forced to confront the impact idealogy has on the common man. The picture you paint of Tithing Day is beautiful - and awful.
 
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