Iron Author, stolen from stakebait

[camwyn]

I'm supposed to be working on four or five other things at the moment, but I could do with a bit of a challenge. Between Hellblazer: Hogwarts and Who Ya Gonna Owl? (which I will be working on this weekend), I've got two very large story arcs to hand. I've also got a novel that I started writing ages ago and have stalled on recently. I would like to write something small and interesting from an idea kicked to me from someone else... and this time I'm not going to ask you to write first. If you've been around for the first rounds, you know the drill. If not, this is a common writing exercise, inspired by cadhla and suitably adapted.

You can have fanfiction

Give me a character and one thing more -- a mood, a genre, a situation, an episode -- and I'll write you at least a drib right here in the comments. (A pairing and a situation are okay too, if you'd prefer. However, I am far more proficient at genfic.).

If you're on my friends list I suspect you already know what fandoms I can handle. Not taking any requests for people from Joss Whedon shows, as I never really watched them to begin with. If you're not sure, ask, and I'll see what I can do.


Unlike stakebait I am not proficient in poetry, so you're not gettin' any.

On the other hand, you're free to ask for original fiction.

Give me a genre (mystery, science fiction, porn, etc.) and a starting point, be it situation, character, dilemma, etc. And I will write you a dribble of original fiction -- most likely brand new, but possibly using a world or characters I've created in the past. I reserve the right to try to turn one of these into a real story and sell it, in the unlikely event that I'm attacked by inspiration.

Afterwards I'll do up a post or two with links to each comment, so people don't have to wade through the threads to find them.

Comments

[camwyn]

Anders Skevald sighed, putting down the spec sheet for the third time that evening, and leaned back in his chair. Rolling his head slowly back and forth along the cushion, he stared unseeing at the ceiling. I don't believe this, he thought. Dayan and I are looking at the same numbers, right? The Talion tests on Deimos were absolutely perfect. The teleo-diggers performed magnificently, even when they were being pushed right up to the limits of their tolerances. I've never seen such an efficient mining machine at work- and they weren't even using experienced Astro-Engineers on the control end! Why is Dayan being so stubborn about this?

His right hand started to reach for the spec sheet yet again; he realized it in time and stopped. It wouldn't help. The problem wasn't in the numbers; the problem was in the people. Management needed better results out of the Kleopatra asteroid if the venture was going to continue. The AE contingent at First Camp swore up and down that they were doing the absolute best they could with the equipment they had. Seemed to him that a change of equipment was in order, then, so he'd squirted a request for info back to Earth. There really wasn't any question about it, in the end: of all the robotic and semi-robotic systems in use in micro-gravity environments, the Talion ROV's came out on top. They'd done brilliantly in every test. They'd performed magnificently in the Moonlight works on Luna- and frankly, if a machine could stand up to the Lunar regolith's dust, it could stand up to anything. True, they hadn't been in use in the field all that long, but the data stream from Earth hadn't reported any problems from any of the field sites using Talions. And yet, and yet. . .

Dayan refused to use the things. Wouldn't touch them. Said there was too much at stake. Said that the Beryl Group's goals were unreasonable and that there'd be more than enough dug out of Kleopatra in the end if they'd just take a collective deep breath from a paper bag. Skevald had given him the Talion information; he'd taken it, locked himself up with it, and returned it covered in scribbled comments. Most of them boiled down to 'asking too much of a poorly-established technology- not going to risk my Engineers on this damn fool project of yours'. The ones that didn't involved physics equations and probability maths so complicated they made Skevald's head throb. Estevantes was checking those over, comparing them to the results of her survey of the asteroid. That left Skevald with the task of convincing Dayan. Something like half to three-fourths of the people at First Camp took their orders from him. Informally, of course, since their contracts were all with the Beryl Group; it was just that when push came to shove, they fell in behind Dayan. And right now, Skevald knew, there was nothing but pushing going on. He was going to have to give Dayan an almighty shove if they were ever going to meet their goals- they couldn't afford to have the project fail. None of them could.

Uff. It was all more than anyone ought to have to deal with. After sixteen hours of solid analysis, comparison, and argument, all Skevald wanted to do was relax. One of the few luxuries he'd been able to bring with him from home was waiting.

He got up, slipped the spec sheets back into their binding, and returned the packet to his desk. There was a rosewood case in one of the drawers; he flipped open the gleaming brass fastenings and ran one hand lightly along the red velvet lining for a moment. Putting all thought of mining, machinery, and stubborn Canadian engineers from his mind, he pieced together the clarinet and wet down the reed.

Things always looked better after a little music.

[sarekofvulcan.livejournal.com]

*applause*