Monday, March 31, 2014

Sailing the sky and the stage

Nothing gets your heart going first thing in the morning like exciting dreams; today apparently it was still too calm, so I got to have TWO exciting dreams!

The first one began aboard one gigantic starship, which turned out to be the deep space version of an aircraft carrier. Everyone aboard was either a fighter jock, an engineer/mechanic, or a medic. After some initial fumbling about I realized I was (of course) a fighter jock.

The fighters were unconventional to say the least. They were not sleekly aerodynamic; why would they need to be? They were instead built for practicality. Nearly perfect ovoid shapes, heavily covered in ablative armor, and capable of carrying heavy shield generators, powerful engines, and turret mounted energy and mass-driver weaponry along with a central ring of hard points to mount short range high speed missiles. The fighters were also roomy enough to carry two comfortably, and four in a pinch (more on that later). The pilots "chairs" were more like lounges with restraining straps. In casual flight, you sat down, strapped in, and reclined slightly; controls were in the armrest mounted dual joysticks. In combat, the whole thing moved so you were lying flat, and rather than the view ports which covered over in combat you had a 360 degree monitor view in front of your face.

Our first scramble came minutes into the dream, and it began with almost literally diving in to the fighters in low-gee, then being ripple-launched from tubes all around the carrier. My first view of the space we were in was breathtaking. Far ahead of us were massive streamers of cloud and interstellar gas, stretching for light years away from where our ship was moving. We were skirting the fringe of a field of scattered asteroids and more wisps of dust and gas, covering a region of space the area of Earth's orbit. We were deep in interstellar space; the closest stars were at least 4 to 5 light years away. Every direction I looked was awe inspiring; millions of stars, vast nebulae, billion mile long streamers of dust lit faintly from within by stars forming, from without by the glow from stars already born. Far off, but still close enough to see and recognize with the naked eye was the Eagle Nebula, and the Pillars of Creation.

Our destination was an exoplanet (maybe one in the constellation Serpentis) about 300 light years from Earth. Our fleet had been under way for 10 to 20 years, roughly half way on the journey. Our FTL drives needed to "recharge" periodically, so we were traveling below light speed. At some point we had run into another space-faring race, and war had begun almost immediately. We had no idea what the other race was like. Apparently in the two years or so of running combat, no prisoners had been taken, and either the enemy ship were self-destructing, or were simply so damaged in battle no useful wreckage was ever recovered.

The first battle was like a swarm of wasps fighting another swarm of wasps. The enemy ships were designed very differently, like a stellated Dodecahedron (look it up) with some of the points truncated for weapons, or engine ports. They were a bit larger and harder to destroy, but slower than our fighters. The swirling battle had at least 100 ships from both sides fully engaged over volume of space large enough to float hold Jupiter. The enemy objective was clear, they were trying to punch through and take out at least one of our carriers; we were fighting defensively to stop them at all costs. Behind us I could see more of our fleet, but in glimpses so brief as to give me no clue about size or numbers. I was focused on my HUD and on killing the closest attacker while not getting destroyed myself. Somehow our weapons never struck one of our own ships; I guess "friendly fire" was turned off. Regardless the space around me still was getting criss-crossed with intense bars of light from the energy weapons, streaks of blue glowing mass driver shots, and the occasional missile, fireball, or filed of debris. I had no real idea how many enemy ships I hit or destroyed, although I was certain of one as I flew right in to the expanding ball of hot gas and debris as it exploded.

My fighter spun and tumbled from the shock wave and the multitude of hits, then ricocheted off some stupid chunk of ice and rock that had wandered into my area. By the time I recovered full control the fight was over. The remaining enemy ships were retreating towards the asteroid field and dust cloud, and we were forming up into a wall of coverage until our carrier called us back.

That was when I got my first look at what we were actually a part of. The fleet was massive; at least a hundred ships in all, spread out so far that it would take minutes to travel from one to another even at the full speed my fighter could produce. There were two dozen carriers at least forming a massive sphere around an inner ring of what guess were battleships or destroyers, and inside that was the core of 40 or 50 gigantic colony ships. Each of those was at least the size of a large city. Imagine New York City being ripped out of the ground, subways, sewers and all, then stuck into a roughly spherical mass with San Francisco and Las Vegas sticking out from the other sides. Glowing lights, towering structures and vast stretches of metal driven forward by huge clusters of engines. This was more than just a colonization, it was more like a diaspora of an entire country.

When I got back aboard the carrier I was launched from, my first objective was food then a shower. That plan changed however when I ran across one of our senior medical staff; she was on her way to drop off something in her lab then head to one of the cafeteria style restaurants aboard. I asked if I had time to shower and then join her for food, and she smiled and said "sure!" She had dark blonde hair just past her shoulders and a rather pixie-ish face, and was perhaps 5' 6" or so. I didn't have to look down much to look in her eyes. When she moved on and waved I picked up my pace and headed for the showers and some clean clothes. Since we all seemed to wear jump suits I didn't have to worry about fashion....

Dinner must have been successful, as the next part was a montage covering several days. A few more scramble missions, some scouting and "Combat Air Patrol" during which I got to look more at our fleet as well as more moments of talking to the woman (who must have had a name, but we never seemed to use any) and at one point waking up in either her room or mine and deciding that it was breakfast, regardless of what time it was aboard ship. She also seemed to be spending a great deal of time tending to my minor injuries or more serious injuries after each mission. I guess she liked me.

Finally during one of the lulls between fights where our scanners and patrols could find no sign of our opponents I invited her to take a short joy ride in my fighter. She had never been off the carrier, and had barely even had time to look at any of the displays of the space we were drifting through. We only had another day or two before we could resume FTL travel and I wanted to show her the fleet and the incredible views. Our launch was much less bullet-like as there was no threat, and I had a passenger. Her gasp came instead from the sudden view of the nebula directly ahead of us that filled a full quarter of the sky (I had carefully chosen where to launch from). Each slow turn of my ship brought another exclamation of joy or amazement from her, and several pats on my shoulder or back; it's hard to hug while wearing a flight suit. She was obviously having a spectacular time. Our tour cut short after only 20 minutes or so as a warning came that there had been possible contact reported. Before I could get us back aboard a flight of maybe a dozen enemy fighters screamed in towards us, and I was not going to dogfight with her aboard. That was up to our CAP to handle, and I fled at maximum toward the cover of the ring of battleships as they were closer than my carrier was, taking evasive action while staying as close as possible to a straight line course.

We made our escape with nothing more than minor scrapes and burns on the hull where something made it through the shield, and she was remarkably calm during the flight, only reacting once we were aboard the battleship. I thought a certain amount "ohmygodwheredidtheycomefromwealmost got killedareyou OK?" was called for myself. I was annoyed enough however by the stupid enemy doing enemy stuff that the moment my fighter was checked and fully armed I took off and joined a huge patrol group that was going to sweep the asteroid field several thousand kilometers away. Seemingly the little raiding party had attached their ships to some of the outlying bits of debris and powered down, lying in ambush. Taking the large number of fighters we did turned out to be an excellent decision, as a swarm of enemy fighters detached and engaged us as we began our sweep. Either they had nothing aboard their ships that allowed them to determine how many fighters we had until it was too late, or powering down left them unable to scan. Either way the result was the same. Our patrol contained nearly half the total number of fighters in the whole fleet, perhaps as many as six hundred all told.

We came in like a swarm of piranha, savaging the enemy fighters en passant with the lead ships and letting the ones behind us finish them off. Scanners lit up like fireworks as a single enemy carrier lurking deeper in the asteroid field scrambled to bring its own engines and weapons on-line before we struck. They didn't even come close to making it.

Fighter after fighter swept towards it almost completely ignoring the defenders it was trying to launch, unloading every missile and firing every weapon at the carrier as we closed, then making the hardest skew-turns possible in order to bring weapons to bear again. The fight was over in less than two minutes; silent explosions and gouts of debris, vapor and ignited gasses were shooting out from every section of the carrier. Even in zero gravity the vessel was pitched at a bizarre looking angle and tumbling as well, as engines and steering jets were firing in erratic bursts as control systems disintegrated, or simply blew apart themselves. Asteroids and smaller debris began adding to the destruction, and with the last enemy fighters savaged into vapor as well we turned back toward our fleet. Behind us another silent explosion of massive scale took place as the power sources aboard the carrier all failed, making a tiny and very short lived star.

Close to the edge of the field I broke off from our ragged formation; something had caught my eye near one of the smaller (house sized) chunks of ice/rock/iron floating about. Drifting along near it I saw a trail of debris, looking like the remains of an enemy fighter, but larger and more intact than ever. My best guess was that one of them had either struck or been struck by the small asteroid, and had come apart before whatever scuttling charge aboard could destroy the remains. Even more surprising was my realization that there were two humanoid suited figures there as well. I stopped my fighter relative to the rock and exited my ship. Sure enough there were two intact suits, looking like fantasy armor and with completely feature shrouding helmets. I secured them with some thin wire rope I had brought with me and stuffed them inside my fighter, then flew back to my own carrier.

For some reason I didn't signal ahead with the information of what I had found, so there was no one but the normal crew of engineers and medics, along with my new girlfriend when I arrived. The reaction when I pulled the dead or unconscious figures from my ship was as expected. The alarming part came when one of the crew yanked off the one helmet, then the other. The aliens inside where human, apparently just as much as we were; and they were also clones. Command personnel arrived, and since the cat was already out of the bag they told us the truth. These were in fact people from Earth, from our own country in fact. They had been sent out by a new government that was opposed to our journey, and they had been cloned and trained solely for the purpose of stopping us and eliminating every ship in the fleet.

The second dream was more prosaic by far. I was an actor in a troupe that had decided to produce a huge original production based in part on Treasure Island. The actors were expected to help the technical crew build sets, hang lights etcetera, as there was no way they could get the huge task completed on time otherwise.

Our director unfortunately was a blend of Uwe Boll and the crappy manager played by Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada". He had all sorts of huge visions for the show... which already used a full scale modular pirate ship as the stage.... but every facet of construction was micro-managed with sarcasm, harsh criticism and periodic outbursts like a verbal Vesuvius. At one point I was working with a fellow pirate, who was insisting on tacking down the black carpeting that covered all the deck surfaces without taking out the bulges and wrinkles. I was moving along behind him, re-tacking everything when the director saw me. "What are you doing? Are you a moron? Maybe you can't tell the difference between something that's done and something that isn't!" I stood up and pointed at a long ramp with so many bulges in the carpet it looked like a black Ruffles potato chip.

"You are going to have over twenty people all carrying swords and black powder pistols running up and down that ramp, sometimes under nothing but dim blue light. If you want to die that way, you play all the parts." He stared at me in utter disbelief for a moment, then turned on the other actor. "Are you some kind of low grade moron? What sort of utter idiot would leave ripples like that in stage carpeting? People could TRIP on that you half-wit! Both of you, get that carpet fixed NOW! Do I have to supervise every single step of this?!?" Off he stormed, and for a moment it was a toss-up between the other actor and I as to who was going to put a staple in him from behind. Instead we went back to pulling up the carpet and re-stapling it.

At some point we finished the construction, because we began performing the play itself. I have to say, either our skill overcame his directing or it was so well written no one could really screw it up; the audience loved it. Thunderous applause, cheers at the end of every fight scene, and an ovation at the end of the show. (I have no clue what the actual story was; this part of the dream was just rushing about, shooting, fighting, more rushing about, and the sounds of crowd joy...)

We must have done really well, because the next thing I knew we had taken the show on tour. This only added to the complexity our dear Fuehrer added. Now, we were building the whole thing so it could actually float, still come apart into various sections, and the audience would watch from bleachers built to look like ship hulls constructed on the shore of whatever damned lake we were now floating on. I was going not-so-quietly apeshit. Among other things I have an aversion to mixing power cable and water; this was true for the dream me as well. Now, to add verisimilitude (I guess) we were all wearing pirate garb while working, actors and tech crew alike. Not our actual costumes, cheaper stuff..... but still well made and fairly expensive. And hot. This included the director of course, who was now strutting about in a black velvet version of Captain Jack Sparrow's regalia, shouting orders, praising his vision, belittling our efforts and talent, and generally pissing everyone off.

The final coda came during a rehearsal on the new, floating, awkward, unstable set. During one scene another actor tripped as a set of stairs shifted under him. He turned to blame me, as he decided either I was the one who built them or because I was the closest. Regardless it was a very bad choice, as not only do I not tolerate being blamed for things that are not my fault in real life, at the time I had a cutlass in one hand and a (blank firing) Flintlock pistol in my belt. Before he finished his sentence I was in his face, and so close I could have either kissed him or bitten his nose off. I cut him off and delivered a quick warning about watching his mouth, with a large helping of adjectives and nouns added.

The director chose that particular moment to step up and open HIS mouth. I have no idea what he actually planned to say, as I took four quick steps over to him, lifted him by his stupid sash belt and a lapel, and threw him off the set. Deck. Whatever. He found out several things very quickly. Velvet is very heavy when wet. Lakes can be very cold. Water has no respect for you or your job, and goes where it wants. You can't yell and drown at the same time.

While he floundered about in all of four or five feet of water, I stepped right back into the face of the other actor. "Is there something you want? Something you have to say? No? Then shut up, pull that idiot out and shut HIM up, and then get back to work."

That unfortunately was where I woke up, with an odd sense of both accomplishment and sadness. The sadness was because my costumes were REALLY good, and I don't actually own any of them. Rats. At least now I know what to wear for Halloween.

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