Semi-interlude: Bonshoon (quote)

Day 51. 175 pages, 81,837 words.

The following is an excerpt from Bonshoon. To read the rest, go ahead and buy the book. You should have already! Anyway, I’m allowed to give out free samples of my own books.

The purpose of this excerpt is twofold: 1) To provide a lazy Saturday blog post while I devote my time to writing Blaran; 2) To show that hey, look, I’m not just making up this whole First Feast storyline as I go along.

After five weeks crossing Chalcedony territory from New Chalcedon, they arrived in the vicinity of Big Thundering Bjørn. Big Thundering Bjørn was a rather innocuous gas giant, and Fat Tuesday was the huge semi-sentient mining machine that ate the planet’s multitude of moons. It ate one approximately every thirty-five years, and the moon it was eating right now was named Gnaxos.

Fat Tuesday was about a hundred miles across, small only in comparison to the Fleet Worldships, and possessed of a synth that didn’t really have much to do with the day-to-day running of the machine. Its job was mostly administration, for the two million permanent residents of Tuesday; logistics, for the automated craft and sorting and deliveries of raw materials; and security, for the mining device itself. It didn’t, to their knowledge and according to what Bruce told them, sync with other synths.

Most of Big Thundering Bjørn’s moons were between three and five times Tuesday’s size, but Fat Tuesday was capable of eating honest-to-goodness planetoids up to a thousand miles in diameter – the previous moon, Ubu, had been one such. It didn’t have a noticeable effect on the thirty-five year turnover.

Tuesday used a devastating piece of integrated equipment called a Godfire Maw, one of the few non-weapon uses to which the mini-whorl technology had ever been put. Although one could very well argue, Decay reflected, that a mobile mining habitat capable of eating a modest-sized planet was a weapon, albeit one aimed safely away from the metaphorical face of civilisation.

Now, Fat Tuesday just floated in synchronous orbit with Gnaxos, its vast hull plates reversed open like the petals of a giant battered iron rose, and sucked the planet’s material into itself in a searing thirty-five-year sandstorm. Fleets of collectors and networks of sifters gathered between the moon and its consumer, and plucked away anything and everything of any value, particularly the dense exotics near the moon’s core.

The problem was, Fat Tuesday was technically unstoppable. Oh, the hab would eventually self-consume once Big Thundering Bjørn ran out of moons, but this would leave an agglomeration of whorls behind that would pose a significant environmental hazard.

But it wasn’t a huge problem. There were eleven thousand, six hundred and eighty-four known moons left in orbit around Big Thundering Bjørn. Or, more accurately, eleven thousand, six hundred and eighty-three-point-six, including Gnaxos. Fat Tuesday had consumed slightly under three-and-a-half moons in the one hundred and nineteen years since its embarrassing inauguration day, when its switching-off problem became apparent. So this was a problem for the mining consortium to worry about in approximately four hundred thousand years’ time.

This is a slightly problematic passage for me now, because I’ve outright stated that Worldships are about ninety miles long. So Fat Tuesday isn’t small in comparison to Worldships, it’s actually a fair bit bigger than them. But maybe I can get away with it on a technicality – this is a mining habitat, practically a moon, not a ship – it doesn’t have an engine or anything. The Worldships make it look like a small docking station, when there’s a couple of them parked on each side.

Yeah. Something like that.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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6 Responses to Semi-interlude: Bonshoon (quote)

  1. dreameling says:

    So will we ever learn how the gas giant and the mining platform got named after two ogres hiding on Earth 8000 years ago?

    My guess would be that, in the Final Feast storyline, the ogres become public figures of some sort. There’s already an alien fleet in orbit, so what’s two more weird creatures?

    Or you really did just recycle the names as an easter egg for the astute reader (of which you have boatloads, I’m sure).

    • stchucky says:

      Good points. The Ogres are sort of mythological characters on Earth, so their naming might be nothing more than more of the same recycling of names that has happened with the Disciples. On the other hand, they did probably help to found planets … so maybe they become known that way too.

      Of course, Truck could easily pass them off as aki’Drednanth. The Fleet would go along with it, and the humans would be none the wiser.

  2. aaronthepatriot says:

    How dare you make content decisions for your blog that wouldn’t be *my* first choice!!! RAWR!!!!

    • stchucky says:

      Heh, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I think you care way more than Amazon’s legal department do about what I put up here, and I care more about your input than I do about theirs.

      • aaronthepatriot says:

        Damn, I do feel better but I had to read that a few times to get it right. I feel rather like I’m on the receiving end of a “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

        I believe the internet response to that is “lolwut?”

      • stchucky says:

        Nah bro, there’s absolutely nothing two-edged about that compliment. You’re one of my most faithful and constructive readers and critics, and Amazon’s only concern about my posting would be their precious copyright law. Which, since they give out free pages of my books anyway (and from the prologues! They’re the most important bits!), they shouldn’t care about.

        So have a little faith in yourself, damn it! Although I should probably not be encouraging your self-assurance.

        And yes, that one was double-edged.

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