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[Supermikhail]

Willfor, get out of here... Or maybe I'm sorry but I was wrong. Everything... most of what I said in the Writers thread was wrong. There are no simple rules for writing, except when writers are procrastinating and want to bullshit about their art. Writing is about what reads right. Knowing what reads right is about experience. And I learn every day.

With that, I stand on my point about over-dramatizing - it doesn't work there. It's bad. I don't feel Bill enough to fit everything that goes on in the chapter into his head. He's not the third-person protagonist of the story, he's just came in to show off in this chapter. What the hell is "hard limited third-person perspective" anyway? Is it a term?

The Cloud is actually not wielding a katana, and if I said katana anywhere that was an accident. It's more of an elongated scimitar. And the only reason the Cloud managed that kill was because of his extremely strong blade, which is essentially magical. (This does become a plot point later, it's not just a handwave.)

I meant that we talked about katanas extrapolating on all swords. Okay, he made that kill. Magic. Why nobody is bothered by it, that's another question. At the first strike they should have known that there's something weird about it, because if it cut a person in half like that, the first kill should have seemed like knife through butter. And there are no ordinary swords like that. Ordinary swords aren't made for cutting a person in half. In face of this evidence, Bill's men still tried to rush the Cloud. They were either suicidal, or dumb.

Just ranting.

[Willfor]

Willfor, get out of here... Or maybe I'm sorry but I was wrong. Everything... most of what I said in the Writers thread was wrong. There are no simple rules for writing, except when writers are procrastinating and want to bullshit about their art. Writing is about what reads right. Knowing what reads right is about experience. And I learn every day.

You were wrong then, and you are still wrong now. I was wrong then, and I am still wrong now. We will both be wrong tomorrow. The important thing is try to make sense while we're wrong, and not take anything about this hobby/profession too seriously for the sake of our own mental health.

As the AspiringAuthorOwl said:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Supermikhail]

But if you're wrong, it's wrong to not take anything about this hobby/profession too seriously for the sake of our mental health? Did you try to trick me by the way that spoiler doesn't show anything/image opens up an xml document!,,

[Willfor]

Did you try to trick me by the way that spoiler doesn't show anything/image opens up an xml document!,,

Twitpic images time out. I was hoping you would see it before it did. I'm going to reupload the image on a site that won't do that now.

Image troubles have been fixed.

[Supermikhail]

Jeez, that's a bit extreme.

[Willfor]

Jeez, that's a bit extreme.

It's a form of meme. Like Computer Science penguin:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

And Journalism Major Camel:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[CJ1145]

Well, that's all well and good but these sorts of disputes can be resolved within PMs. Willfor, if you have anything to say about the topic at hand I'd love to hear it. Otherwise feel free to continue the current discussion somewhere else.

[Supermikhail]

CJ, you are not a nice boy.

I wanted to say that not taking this hobby/profession seriously is what creates all those dumb movies and books. Willfor, you might not be on a Hollywood salary right now, but I doubt you'll suddenly change to be conscious of the consequences of your words if you sign up for one.

I guess in the context of current discussion it means that CJ should stop his pseudoscience bullshit. You can omit it to avoid embarrassing yourself and deceiving others, just think about it a bit. In the end, you might even get rid of cloning. You have to be able to compromise, even on your dearest plot points. Even George Lucas had to compromise, and it made him a legendary movie. If the essence of the story is solid, it'll hold after being stripped of some supporting details.

I'm a witty individual capable of staying on topic under the direst of circumstances!

[CJ1145]

I know it's pseudoscience, but later chapters definitely and quite intentionally introduce some very fantastical elements, so I'm not sure if I want to compromise here just to make something even crazier and now entirely out of left field further down the line. It's technically a sci-fi story and I classify it as such, but it's very soft science, if not fantasy in some places.

And the cloning could be removed but with the plot I have in mind I'd have to change a massive portion of the story. To continue the Lucas analogy, it would be like if someone forced Lucas to remove Yoda and the trip to Dagobah from the story. In theory it could be done, but it would have vastly changed the story and likely not for the better.

[Supermikhail]

I'd like to differ - Yoda seems to me to be a mostly comic relief character. We can live without comic relief character. Yeah, he's an icon, but suppose Luke gained his powers through some actual plot development, not Jehovah Witnesses advertising. While we're on that, I think we can agree that George Lucas is just a lucky nerd, and without compromises the movies would have been simply horrible. As I don't want to be a part to creation of another George Lucas, I'm going to let you consider these few points:

Cloning is exactly about what is written on the label. It creates a genetically identical individual, which is to say, the same with the exception of a few scars - physical, or emotional, or nutritional. As opposed to a natural inception, the woman whose womb carries the embryo doesn't influence the appearance of the child, who is a copy of a single individual barring genetic modification. If you don't have anything against that we can assume that Darius looks exactly like Albus, except a "few" years younger. We can further assume that in a civilization that advanced photographs in some form are widespread, thus, a photograph of Albus at the age of Darius would be available, and maybe Darius at this age would be on the memory of one of the Guild. Therefore the Council members should be likely to recognize Darius as some relative of Albus simply visually. However, they would probably know that Albus had no such relatives. What would their assumption would be then? Considering how advanced the civilization is, cloning should be easily possible (we, Earthlings, are capable of cloning, having but dipped our feet into the cold flow of space). I postulate that councilors should have come without any trouble to the conclusion that Darius is Albus's clone. So what would all the secrecy be about?

... Also, what prevented McCaines from killing Darius after they killed Albus? Sheer surprise at finding an heir?

Edit: You know, if you're not sure about the science, you could always ask before writing. As a matter of fact, I'm here mostly to help, not to read (for the pleasure of it, that is). I guess it makes me feel important, or maybe I'm just a crazy person.

[Willfor]

Sorry Mikhail, your opinion on this differs completely from mine. Science fiction and fantasy only differ in how utterly fixated to a pornographic degree most science fiction writers are obsessed with the details. I, myself, would love a return of good authors to Space Opera and the like as I find hard science fiction to be akin to eating bread that's been baked and baked again until there's no moisture left at all.

Dune is fantasy, and yet many people herald it as the foundation of good science fiction. (the ending truly sucks though, he shouldn't have let his editor convince him to split the first one from the second one in the series... It literally almost ends mid-sentence)

CJ, I recommend you keep trucking with how you envision your world.

[Supermikhail]

You know, it's because of this stuff that no one took science-fiction seriously until the '60s - sci-fi was exactly fantasy of pseudoscience geeks with shallow, unrealistic characters, with no appeal for anyone but similar geeks, who couldn't get laid and so had to place themselves on other planets, with beauties and hi-tech. While literature can be so much more - it can educate, open our eyes to other possibilities, warn against dangers, it can guide instead of misguiding.

Although, I don't give a fuck, because I am that geek that can't get laid, and maybe because I am obsessed with truth... This is disgusting, godspeed and goodnight.

[Willfor]

As per CJ's wishes, I'm taking it to PMs.

[CJ1145]

Well, maybe I shouldn't call it cloning, or stress that his genes were tampered with after initial cloning to change his physical appearance. Keep in mind I go back and edit small parts of the chapters on almost every reread. While I personally prefer softer science, as it allows me to be a bit more creative in the sort of characters and events I can make, I can at least explain my reasoning. I do appreciate the input from both of you, however. That's not to say I hate hard science fiction, but the softer can be just as intriguing. My personal favorite old sci-fi was a book called Midnight At the Well of Souls, and if you know the plot I think you'll understand why it's not very hard on the scale.

To answer why Darius was not killed alongside Albus, I tried to make it clear that he was still in the vat, hidden away. Albus was somewhere entirely different when he was killed.

[CJ1145]

I've finished the first draft of Chapter 6, the last of Bill's spotlight chapters, and the culmination of the assassination of Councilor Smitt. As usual, any comments or constructive criticism is welcome.

Spoiler: Chapter 6 (click to show/hide)

Bill wasn't sure how much time had passed. He had been crawling through these hallways for his entire life, as far as he was concerned. He looked around. Behind him and up to his feet was a trail, dripping blood that stretched through some unholy stretch of those blank halls, now stained red. At his feet was another pool of blood, but not his own. One of the Smitt's Knight mercenaries was laying face down, his face one of shock if he could recall. The sword Bill had taken from the Cloud mercenary was standing tall from its position in the Knight's spine. The Badger was relieved that Smitt's guards were so poorly trained, in comparison to the psychotic assassin that he had engaged before.

With a grunt, he reached down and grabbed his trophy and yanked it from the corpse. His own hands were stained in the blood of many people, his own included. But none of it was fresh. "Good." he thought. That meant his wounds were starting to clot, and he likely wouldn't die of blood loss. As a mercenary of the Guild, Bill had been given multiple upgrades to make him well-suited for combat. Tougher skin and bones, a self-repairing stomach to avoid impalement and a circulation system that allowed over half the blood in his body to be lost before bleeding out. He was especially grateful for the stomach, without which he would be dead somewhere in these hallways.

But even though he was alive, he had no idea where he was going to find the Councilor. Without his squad, this was quickly turning into a slog.

He recalled the view he had from the AHAC when they descended on the mansion. He was certain he had explored nearly the entire floor; only one hallway remained, around the corner he now faced. Used to the routine he pressed his body up against the corner and gingerly took out a piece of reflective glass he had stolen from a bathroom. He placed it so that he could look around the corner. To his surprise, almost a dozen Knights were in the hallway; but they were not standing, but strewn about in odd positions. Their blood smeared the white hallway, leading up to a single door that had been smashed in. He paused his breathing for moment, and swore he heard voices coming from that door. With a little effort he pushed off from his starting position and moved towards the door, nearly tripping over a corpse. He looked down to see glinting gold armor by his foot. He realized that the men in the room up ahead had to be the remaining Hellions. As he continued to approach, he was certain that there were voices now, and two in particular were in the middle of a conversation.

“…sorry, but the price has gotta be a little better than that before I go and betray my employer. Bad for my rep, you see. Gotta keep up that image, right?"
"Fine, fine, then! I'll give you half the planet if you just put down the gun and listen!"

"Ooh, nice bargaining chip. All right, Smitt, talk."

Bill grimaced, and his heart sank a bit as the voice not belonging to the Councilor spoke. He'd know the sound of that traitor wherever he heard him. Finally up against the doorway, he peeked in, and sure enough he found himself looking at the back of Chuck, and three of his Hellions staring down the Councilor.

Full name Chuck Wolff, and one of the dirtiest cowards in space as far as Bill was concerned. He had reservations about letting him lead Layton's Hellions on the mission, but to think he would be willing to negotiate with his own target was--Bill stopped himself there. This was Chuck, how could he have expected anything different?

"You're a tough one, Crimson, getting past all my guards." Councilor Smitt began, his voice and body trembling in fear. "But, alas, you've killed them all; for the moment I am sorely lacking in the troops I need to get revenge against your employers. Oh, I should have known that Amagai boy was up to no good.”

"Not good." Bill thought to himself. Chuck had let him in on who really sent the attack. If Smitt lived through this the entire plan would fall through. He lifted up his sidearm, but it slipped through his blood-slicked hands and hit the floor. He ducked behind cover as one of Chuck's men turned to face him. He waited for what seemed like ages, but the guard had not spotted him, and turned back to let his commander know that nobody was there. Chuck spoke next.

"So, let me see if I'm clear on this: you want me, a long-standing member of Layton's personal guard, to become a turncoat and go back telling him I've killed you, only to murder him and the new Amagai Councilor in their sleep?"

"Y-yes..?" Orville asked sheepishly.

Chuck paused and stared down the Councilor, only to burst out into laughter, his men joining in quickly. "Oh, I like you, Smitt! I really do, you're a shrewd bastard. Very well, we have a deal; but we're going to need to negotiate the price further once I get back."

Bill had heard enough. He lunged forward to his sidearm, picking it up and leaning in the doorway, his laser sight pinning itself on Orville's forehead. The Councilor's mouth dropped open in horror as he saw the gunman, and was frozen in that state when the bullet punched through his skull. The dead Councilor dropped to the floor, a ghastly exhale drifting out of his frozen mouth. Chuck and the others immediately drew their weapons and turned, only to see Bill. They hesitated, and after a moment put their weapons away. Chuck nodded at two of his men, and they ran over to help up the Badger leader. They supported him by the underarms over both of their shoulders, and dragged him over to Chuck. The Hellion smiled at him, but Bill only saw a smug grin.

"Bill, I certainly didn't expect to see you here! You look a little roughed-up; don't tell me these 'plastic-wearing sonsabitches', as you called them, managed to bring down all of you?"

"There was a Cloud." Bill growled back to him.

"Oh." Chuck said, sounding genuinely disturbed. He grimaced a bit and apologized for the ordeal. "Of course, you should be thankful you're alive. You'll get a hero's welcome for besting him, I'm sure. Not to mention your timely arrival to finish off the Councilor here."

"Oh, like I expect you t' let me live." Bill replied. Chuck looked at him with a curious expression, and sighed.

"Bill, don't tell me you're still bitter about the Ganymede job? It was business, nothing else. Our employer needed that data, and there was no guarantee we'd live long enough to get it to him if both of us stayed to fight the flea-hounds."

"You cut an' ran with th' money, you bastard!" Bill shouted. "That's why I'm gonna rat ya out t' yer boss! That's all a rat deserves!"

"Bill, you're doing 'that' again." Chuck stated flatly. "You're letting your own little moral code get in the way of good business. Think about it, buddy. We work for some of the most morally bankrupt men and women in the galaxy, the only thing a conscience is going to do is get in our way. Smitt was offering me a better deal than Layton, but since he's dead that deal's off. Your little protégé is going to be just fine, I've got no personal quarrel with him." He leaned in close and practically whispered "So why don't we just keep this secret between us?"

Bill's eyes slipped to look at the corner of the room. Four men in golden armor, now stained red with blood, were piled up in a heap. Chuck's men, most likely killed for disagreeing with the idea of treason. Bill frowned as he thought over his options, and looked straight into his ex-partner's eyes, sighing in resignation.

"Go fuck yourself, Chuck."

"Darn," Chuck said in a deadpan voice. He picked up a handgun from the late Councilor's table and slipped in a cartridge of ammunition. "I was really hoping we'd be able to mend this old wound. But it seems not. Well, Bill, it's been fun but I think we really should be getting back to base, don't you?"

He lifted the gun to Bill's head, who shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as he waited for the killing blow. After a pause that went on for far less time than anyone present realized, a small ping sounded; Bill lost consciousness as an intense pain shot through his system, and slowly relaxed into nothing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pain was back. Bill was taken out of his calm sleep with a jolt of fresh pain, and his eyes shot open to take in his surroundings. He was in a tent, somewhere. He tried to prop himself up, only for more severe pain to force him on his back. His eyes managed to get a glimpse around, and he discovered that he was in a medical tent. The equipment all around was hooked up to his body; a machine designed for replenishing the blood of wounded soldiers was already fed into his arm, and a fresh set of stitches had repaired the painful stab wound in his stomach.

On the other side of the tent, a flap opened and three men walked inside. They approached, and Bill saw that they were Darius, Councilor Layton, and Chuck. He immediately felt defensive, his arm reaching out for a weapon and to his surprise finding the sword he had taken from the Cloud mercenary.

"I thought you should keep it." Chuck told the Badger warmly. "After all, you were the one that brought down that monster."

"No need to explain, Mr. Kraft, my man has told us all about it!" Layton exclaimed. "You'll be getting a hero's welcome for this back home, my man, I'm sure of it! I'll just take my bodyguard and leave the two of you alone for a while, I'm sure you have much to discuss."

As Layton and Chuck left, Darius pulled up a chair next to Bill. "What'd he tell ya?" the veteran asked.

"He informed us of how the initial assault was a disaster, his Hellions being torn apart by the heavy defenses of the Smitts, all but three of his men dying in the breaching of the walls. When they got in, they had to sneak past dozens of guards, ambushing them through the hallways to avoid an agonizing death, until they reached Smitt's office where they were ambushed by a Cloud mercenary. They felt they were doomed, until you arrived on the scene with your Badgers. All of your men were tragically slain in defending them, but you ignored multiple fatal wounds and tore the beast to shreds, then killed the Councilor with the Cloud's own sword. You then collapsed from your wounds, and Chuck had his men bring you back to recover while he planted the forged declaration of heir and brought in a recovery team to clean up the bodies."

"Heh, I'da thought he'd exaggerate at least a LITTLE more'n that…;"

Bill explained the true events of the assault to Darius, who listened quietly until he finished. Once he was certain Bill was done he responded.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Bill, but what bothers me the most about that story is Chuck. If he knew you were going to tell me about his plans, why would he choose to let you live?"

"I dunno sir, slippery bastard's always been like that. I can guarantee ya that it's gonna benefit 'im in the long run, though. Just don't know how."

"Well, we'd best keep an eye on him then." said Darius, who stood up quickly and placed the chair back in its place. "Get some sleep, Bill. Next time you wake we'll be on our way home. Let me worry about the traitors."

Darius left immediately, and Bill lied alone in his bed. His thoughts were stuck on the faces of the men and women he had lost. He'd need to start writing letters back to their families to inform them. But his grieving was interrupted as the flap opened again, and Chuck stepped into the room.

Bill groaned in agony as he managed to sit up and lean against the back of his bed, staring down his rival. "What the hell d'you want, Chuck?"

"Hm, me?" Chuck asked, sounding genuinely confused. "I don't want anything. I figured you had a lot of questions, so I should probably pop in and see if I could answer any of them."

"You mockin' me?" Bill growled.

"No, not at all!" Chuck insisted, shaking his hands in a dissuading manner. "It seems you're a bit too defensive to kick off this conversation, so I'll ask a question for you: 'Why did you let me live, Chuck?' Well, you see Bill, unlike you I'm not one to hold a grudge. Like I tried to explain to you back in Smitt's manor, business is business. Sure, I left you to deal with the flea-hounds, but that doesn't mean I hate you. I just needed to ensure my own survival. You would have done the same if you were the one holding the data chip."

"I don't leave my men to die." Bill snarled at him.

"But, you didn't die!" Chuck said. "You got out alive, stronger and wiser than before. When you think about it I did you a favor by abandoning you, I forced you to learn that sometimes you have to look out for yourself. Obviously the lesson didn't stick, but it's the thought that counts."

"Fine!" Bill shouted. "You wanna sit here and play trivia with me then answer this! Why'd you let me live when ya know I'm gonna be out f'r yer blood soon as I can walk again?!"

"Oh, well, that's simple, Bill." Chuck said in an innocent tone. "You'll never really kill me; I'm better than you."

"You smug son of a--;"

"Oh come on, Bill, calm down or you'll split that wound back open!" Chuck warned in an almost parentally caring manner. "You've got to keep in mind, Bill, there's always going to be somebody better than you. It just so happens that it's me. And besides, it's not like I enjoy being your better. I just am."

Chuck yawned and stretched his arms out a bit, cutting off Bill's response. "Well, it has been fun, Bill, but I think it's best that I get going. Take care, old partner."

The Crimson leader turned and walked to the tent flap, only turning to fire another tranquilizer round into Bill's neck before walking out. The closing flap was the last thing Bill saw before slipping into unconsciousness again.