I don't have time...
...for another fandom right now. I owe so many emails it's not even funny, and I have several thousand words of Big Bang draft to get done ASAP. And yet.
There's something alarming and exhilarating about writing in a fandom where there's so much source material to wade through, especially one with all sorts of internal rules about travel and exploration. It opens up this enormous conceptual scope. I don't think I've ever had a fully-fledged plot strike like lightning before--plot bunnies, sure, but those don't actually mean plot. They mean hooks or starting points or themes, which aren't at all the same thing.
I've finished all the real life business I had to wade through this weekend, so now I can return to my regularly-scheduled fic writing, but first I just need to get some of the squee off my chest. Because I have feelings about this one. (You can tell because I'm using italics.) It will have thematic resonance and character exploration and contain my personal head!canon for what Certain People get up to after Cryoburn.
“This is your pitch,” said Lord Mark Vorkosigan. His face, his voice, everything was carefully bland. He didn’t look at all nervous, but then again he’d probably negotiated with tougher audiences than this. “I’m not here to make the case for you.”
“I know,” Nikki said. He resisted the impulse to tug at his collar. He’d just spent over an hour pressing his dress grays and polishing his Survey-issue boots until he’d have trusted their reflective surfaces for his morning depilation, and he knew he looked as smart as he’d been in his life, but he didn’t feel it. In fact, he felt a bit ill.
“I’ll throw my weight behind you as needed-”
A considerable offer, Nikki thought but didn’t say. His step-uncle had surely intended the double entendre.
“-but if this going to work, you should to be able to carry the argument.”
“I know.” And now he sounded testy. It was a short step from there to petulant, which wouldn’t do at all. Nikki pressed his lips together and did not glare at his uncle.
Instead he looked at Dr. Riva, who was smiling at him in evident amusement. She’d gotten over her nerves, then. That was good. He’d been surprised at her reaction when he suggested she join them for this audience. He’d never seen her lose her composure before; he was no stranger to confident women, but her self-possession was remarkable even in his experience. Yet when he’d invited her, she’d looked-frightened. Surely she didn’t think the fact that she was Komarran gave her anything to fear?
“Do you remember all your lines?” she asked, and if that was nervousness he saw in the flick of her eyes toward the heavy double doors, she betrayed none of it in her voice. “I can always stand in as prompter.”
No doubt she could. She’d been involved in this nearly as long as he had. Longer, depending on how you looked at it.
Nikki shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will.” That was neither flippant nor ironic, and he found himself standing straighter. One did not slouch under the approval of the empire’s most brilliant physicist.
A clock from down the hall emitted a silvery, expensive chime. The majordomo stepped past them to open the doors. “Your ten o’clock, Sire.”
He led their little party inside. The office had changed very little since the first time he’d been inside, still proclaiming the marriage of sleek modernism with weighty tradition. Even the man sitting at the desk bore little trace of the intervening decade and a half. His hair had traces of grey, now, and the lines in his face were somewhat darker, but Gregor Vorbarra at thirty-five had already possessed all the gravitas of Gregor Vorbarra nearing fifty. He looked up with the genuine, welcoming smile that usually put Nikki at his ease.
“Come in, Nikki.” The smile faded as he took in the uniform, disappeared as he saw Lord Mark, and turned to a frown as he saw and failed to recognise Dr. Riva. He settled on Nikki again, his initial pleasure evaporated.
Nikki snapped his best salute. “Sire.”
The Emperor returned it with a vague wave of his hand toward his forehead. The frown had disappeared from his mouth, but it lingered around his eyes. “Pilot Officer Vorsoisson.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“I had thought-hoped-it was for a social visit.” A pair of chairs sat in one corner of the office, both far more comfortable than the ones nearer the desk, and the table between them held a pot of what Nikki knew from experience was excellent coffee. He swallowed regret. “I haven’t seen you in over four months.”
“I know, Sire.” And there would be no time for catching up today.
Gregor turned gravely to the others. “Hello, Mark.” They exchanged businesslike nods, and then the Emperor extended his hand across the desk. “Won’t you introduce your guest?”
“Sire, allow me to present Dr. Riva of Solstice University.”
Gregor’s gaze on Riva had been as incisive as ever, but now it widened. Something electric sparked between them. Riva’s dark skin lost some of its color, and she made no move to take his hand.
“Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Riva,” Gregor said. His voice was soft, a danger sign if Nikki had ever heard one. He glanced sideways at his uncle, but no explanations were coming from that quarter. Gregor cleared his throat. His hand remained outstretched, and at last Riva took it. When he spoke again, the softness was tempered with unexpected kindness. “You are very welcome here.”
“Thank you,” Riva said. Her own tone was relieved, and Nikki felt the tension between them easing. He wished he knew where it had come from in the first place.
Gregor waved them toward the chairs nearest his desk. “Please.”
As they seated themselves, Nikki became aware that the full Imperial attention was now his. Suddenly, he wasn’t certain he wanted it. He opened his mouth only to find all the words had dried up.
Gregor was watching him. “Good work on the Komarr 5-C mission,” he said, conversationally. “We were giving up on getting anything useful out of the opposite end of that wormhole.”
Nikki shrugged uncomfortably. “I was just driving. It was our navigators and geologists who made the find.”
“Still, that was a bit of welcome news. I hope to have a mining operation opened on that asteroid cluster by this time next year, and Commander Vorarkis mentioned your name in his report with special distinction.”
His tone was light. Too light. Nikki didn’t like being handled, and he nearly bristled-but this was Gregor, who had never once tired to handle him, and he recognised the compliment and the conversational distraction for what they were: the opportunity to collect himself. He took it. “Thank you, Sire. But if I may, I’d like to bring this to business.”
“Long experience has taught me to be wary of relatives turning up for a private visit in full uniform.” He did not look wary. He looked, in fact, desperately unhappy, though Nikki wondered if he was the only one there who knew him well enough to see it. “So tell me what business a pilot officer of the Imperial Astronomical Survey, a renowned five-space expert, and a son of Cordelia Vorkosigan might have with their emperor.”
You know already, Nikki thought. Of course he did. He’d probably known the moment he’d heard Riva’s name, but by God, he would wait to be told.
Nikki one of the calm, practiced breaths he’d learned to use in full vacuum gear. “Sire, we are here to request an order for a Survey mission into uncharted space.”
The Imperial eyebrows rose in an equally practiced gesture. “Surely that request would be better directed toward, to pick an example at random, your superiors at the Survey offices.”
“My superiors don’t have the authority,” Nikki said. And now they came to it. “The unplotted wormhole we’re interested in has been forbidden to all traffic: military, scientific, or civilian. By your order, Sire.”
“Pilot Officer, We wish to be quite certain of your meaning. Are We to take it that you are here to request Us to countermand Our own Imperial Order, made on the urgent and unanimous advice of every member of Our administration in an effort to prevent further loss of life, and reopen Sergyar 2-G?”
It sounded so much worse when he put it that way.
And before I bounce back to the fandom I should be dealing with right now, does anyone have good Vorkosigan fic recs? I've just downloaded loads off AO3 for bedtime reading, but it's always nice to hear about personal favorites.
comments at http://pendrecarc.dreamwidth.org/140055.html. Feel free to comment wherever you prefer.
There's something alarming and exhilarating about writing in a fandom where there's so much source material to wade through, especially one with all sorts of internal rules about travel and exploration. It opens up this enormous conceptual scope. I don't think I've ever had a fully-fledged plot strike like lightning before--plot bunnies, sure, but those don't actually mean plot. They mean hooks or starting points or themes, which aren't at all the same thing.
I've finished all the real life business I had to wade through this weekend, so now I can return to my regularly-scheduled fic writing, but first I just need to get some of the squee off my chest. Because I have feelings about this one. (You can tell because I'm using italics.) It will have thematic resonance and character exploration and contain my personal head!canon for what Certain People get up to after Cryoburn.
“This is your pitch,” said Lord Mark Vorkosigan. His face, his voice, everything was carefully bland. He didn’t look at all nervous, but then again he’d probably negotiated with tougher audiences than this. “I’m not here to make the case for you.”
“I know,” Nikki said. He resisted the impulse to tug at his collar. He’d just spent over an hour pressing his dress grays and polishing his Survey-issue boots until he’d have trusted their reflective surfaces for his morning depilation, and he knew he looked as smart as he’d been in his life, but he didn’t feel it. In fact, he felt a bit ill.
“I’ll throw my weight behind you as needed-”
A considerable offer, Nikki thought but didn’t say. His step-uncle had surely intended the double entendre.
“-but if this going to work, you should to be able to carry the argument.”
“I know.” And now he sounded testy. It was a short step from there to petulant, which wouldn’t do at all. Nikki pressed his lips together and did not glare at his uncle.
Instead he looked at Dr. Riva, who was smiling at him in evident amusement. She’d gotten over her nerves, then. That was good. He’d been surprised at her reaction when he suggested she join them for this audience. He’d never seen her lose her composure before; he was no stranger to confident women, but her self-possession was remarkable even in his experience. Yet when he’d invited her, she’d looked-frightened. Surely she didn’t think the fact that she was Komarran gave her anything to fear?
“Do you remember all your lines?” she asked, and if that was nervousness he saw in the flick of her eyes toward the heavy double doors, she betrayed none of it in her voice. “I can always stand in as prompter.”
No doubt she could. She’d been involved in this nearly as long as he had. Longer, depending on how you looked at it.
Nikki shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will.” That was neither flippant nor ironic, and he found himself standing straighter. One did not slouch under the approval of the empire’s most brilliant physicist.
A clock from down the hall emitted a silvery, expensive chime. The majordomo stepped past them to open the doors. “Your ten o’clock, Sire.”
He led their little party inside. The office had changed very little since the first time he’d been inside, still proclaiming the marriage of sleek modernism with weighty tradition. Even the man sitting at the desk bore little trace of the intervening decade and a half. His hair had traces of grey, now, and the lines in his face were somewhat darker, but Gregor Vorbarra at thirty-five had already possessed all the gravitas of Gregor Vorbarra nearing fifty. He looked up with the genuine, welcoming smile that usually put Nikki at his ease.
“Come in, Nikki.” The smile faded as he took in the uniform, disappeared as he saw Lord Mark, and turned to a frown as he saw and failed to recognise Dr. Riva. He settled on Nikki again, his initial pleasure evaporated.
Nikki snapped his best salute. “Sire.”
The Emperor returned it with a vague wave of his hand toward his forehead. The frown had disappeared from his mouth, but it lingered around his eyes. “Pilot Officer Vorsoisson.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“I had thought-hoped-it was for a social visit.” A pair of chairs sat in one corner of the office, both far more comfortable than the ones nearer the desk, and the table between them held a pot of what Nikki knew from experience was excellent coffee. He swallowed regret. “I haven’t seen you in over four months.”
“I know, Sire.” And there would be no time for catching up today.
Gregor turned gravely to the others. “Hello, Mark.” They exchanged businesslike nods, and then the Emperor extended his hand across the desk. “Won’t you introduce your guest?”
“Sire, allow me to present Dr. Riva of Solstice University.”
Gregor’s gaze on Riva had been as incisive as ever, but now it widened. Something electric sparked between them. Riva’s dark skin lost some of its color, and she made no move to take his hand.
“Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Riva,” Gregor said. His voice was soft, a danger sign if Nikki had ever heard one. He glanced sideways at his uncle, but no explanations were coming from that quarter. Gregor cleared his throat. His hand remained outstretched, and at last Riva took it. When he spoke again, the softness was tempered with unexpected kindness. “You are very welcome here.”
“Thank you,” Riva said. Her own tone was relieved, and Nikki felt the tension between them easing. He wished he knew where it had come from in the first place.
Gregor waved them toward the chairs nearest his desk. “Please.”
As they seated themselves, Nikki became aware that the full Imperial attention was now his. Suddenly, he wasn’t certain he wanted it. He opened his mouth only to find all the words had dried up.
Gregor was watching him. “Good work on the Komarr 5-C mission,” he said, conversationally. “We were giving up on getting anything useful out of the opposite end of that wormhole.”
Nikki shrugged uncomfortably. “I was just driving. It was our navigators and geologists who made the find.”
“Still, that was a bit of welcome news. I hope to have a mining operation opened on that asteroid cluster by this time next year, and Commander Vorarkis mentioned your name in his report with special distinction.”
His tone was light. Too light. Nikki didn’t like being handled, and he nearly bristled-but this was Gregor, who had never once tired to handle him, and he recognised the compliment and the conversational distraction for what they were: the opportunity to collect himself. He took it. “Thank you, Sire. But if I may, I’d like to bring this to business.”
“Long experience has taught me to be wary of relatives turning up for a private visit in full uniform.” He did not look wary. He looked, in fact, desperately unhappy, though Nikki wondered if he was the only one there who knew him well enough to see it. “So tell me what business a pilot officer of the Imperial Astronomical Survey, a renowned five-space expert, and a son of Cordelia Vorkosigan might have with their emperor.”
You know already, Nikki thought. Of course he did. He’d probably known the moment he’d heard Riva’s name, but by God, he would wait to be told.
Nikki one of the calm, practiced breaths he’d learned to use in full vacuum gear. “Sire, we are here to request an order for a Survey mission into uncharted space.”
The Imperial eyebrows rose in an equally practiced gesture. “Surely that request would be better directed toward, to pick an example at random, your superiors at the Survey offices.”
“My superiors don’t have the authority,” Nikki said. And now they came to it. “The unplotted wormhole we’re interested in has been forbidden to all traffic: military, scientific, or civilian. By your order, Sire.”
“Pilot Officer, We wish to be quite certain of your meaning. Are We to take it that you are here to request Us to countermand Our own Imperial Order, made on the urgent and unanimous advice of every member of Our administration in an effort to prevent further loss of life, and reopen Sergyar 2-G?”
It sounded so much worse when he put it that way.
And before I bounce back to the fandom I should be dealing with right now, does anyone have good Vorkosigan fic recs? I've just downloaded loads off AO3 for bedtime reading, but it's always nice to hear about personal favorites.
comments at http://pendrecarc.dreamwidth.org/140055.html. Feel free to comment wherever you prefer.