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The names of weekdays in Danish sounds all mystical and cool until…
Søndag (Sunday) Day of The Sun.
Mandag (Monday) Day of The Moon.
Tirsdag (Tuesday) Tyr’s Day, the old half-jotun god of law, order, fairness and combat.
Onsdag (Wednesday) Odin’s Day, the old god king of wisdom, magic and warfare.
Torsdag (Thursday) Thor’s Day, the old god of thunder, rain, strength and battle.
Fredag (Friday) Freya’s or Freyr’s Day, the old sibling gods of prosperity, wealth, love and peace.
Lørdag (Saturday) Day of Bath, bath day…
Our ancestors were big into bath time, so I suppose the message here is that self care should be considered sacred and that cleanliness is next to godliness?
the situation with harry potter is kind of unprecedented in some ways imo because it is maybe the largest media franchise in history to be created & owned by a single person who still has direct creative control over it. who is also a billionaire with significant cultural/political influence. like the usual "no ethical consumption under capitalism" type excuses shatter on impact when the bigoted author in question is logging onto twitter every day saying explicitly that when you buy the tim hortons ravenclaw donut she is using your donut money to fund the genocide of trans people. like with big franchises usually there's at least a little more diffusion of responsibility than this
#sometimes people will do a harry potter comparison to say ppl are morally obligated to join an informal boycott of another author's work #when that author is revealed as sleazy or abusive or bigoted #and i will be real: i just don't think that's true. #go ahead and stop engaging with that other person's work if that's what your conscience dictates #but it's not a very meaningful choice one way or the other #outside of what it means to YOU. #but harry potter is different. you actually do have to eschew that shit. #you can't even 'be a fan' without paying for anything-- you're still feeding into the cultural phenomenon #that allowed and allows this woman to act like a petty tyrant #and pump money into hate groups #it truly is unique. singular. unlike any other situation in literature. (tags via @flameswallower)
i was talking about this on my server earlier but i really think "cozy" is one of the worst genre labels out there in the gaming space. like people dunk on the terms "metroidvania" and "first person shooter" a lot for being uncreative or limiting but at least those are like... falsifiable descriptors. you can look at a game and go "yeah this game's mechanics and core gameplay loop generally operate like metroid/castlevania" or "yeah this game primarily uses a first person camera paired with some sort of projectile weapon" so i don't think they're completely useless. but "cozy" is just nonsense. fully subjective. i see a lot of games popularly labeled as "cozy" that share almost zero mechanical features between them and don't even always match in tone or aesthetic. hearing a game described as "cozy" doesn't tell you anything about what to expect as a player beyond maybe giving you a sort of forewarning about the fanbase and their discomfort tolerance. "cozy" is not a quantifiable metric. like imagine if someone offered to buy you takeout and asked you what kind of food you'd like and you told them fully unironically, and with no further elaboration, "i want to get yummy food." that's what hearing "cozy games" sounds like to me
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This is the result of poorly thought out anti-AI policy by the way.
"training AI on a book without paying for it is stealing" -> "fine, we'll buy the book"
"if you pay for one copy you can only keep one copy" -> "okay, so we'll shred the physical copy and keep the digital one"
"now nobody can read it!" -> "you couldn't read our copy anyway, because we're not interested in selling it, and you've set up a legal framework where you can't read books without paying for them"
Point 3 has been a problem as long as books and markets have existed. Point 2 is the most common legal solution for digital lending libraries. The only thing that's new is point 1, and that's a direct response to lawsuits that people on this website have long cheered.
Like, I could explain why the original post is ragebait and this isn't anywhere as bad as it sounds but I don't think you'd listen. So like, whatever, be anti-AI, I'm not really pro-AI. But next time you suggest legal policies, be optimistic! Assume it will make a difference! And then use your critical thinking skills (which haven't atrophied bc ur so smart and don't use AI) to think like, anywhere further than one step ahead of the policy.
yeah the op is a tweet from an account with little value (and the article that it's referencing is paywalled) but I really have to clear something up here-- the books are not being destroyed for copyright reasons. companies doing this would have just as much of an argument about keeping the books physically intact and holding them in an archive-- this is what the internet archive does, and though the internet archive has been in hot water for controlled digital lending, the AI companies have a stronger case imo (i am not a lawyer) since they're not directly providing text to the public
anyway the reason they are destroying books is because it's simply MUCH easier to get a fast and clean scan of a book's pages if you cut off the spine and can scan the pages flat.
The process, known as “destructive scanning,” involves cutting the spine from a book so its pages can be fed through high-speed scanners before the remaining physical copy is discarded.
[from a fortune article about the same subject, not paywalled for me but there might be a paywall if you read too many articles idk]
in contrast, the non-destructive scanning by the internet archive is an extremely slow, manual process with significantly more complicated equipment required (and often a worse result! text near the spine can end up warped just from the way the pages are pressed and photographed)
like it's really not a matter of copyright policy here, just the economics of book scanning. if the physical object is not of value to you (because you're not trying to build and maintain a physical library [and maintaining one is a real PITA at scale, so unless you have a reason to do so, you don't want to do so]), it's a lot easier to chop and scan.
I don't think it's known if copyright concerns featured in the original choice of scanning methods, and I agree that it would probably be legal even if they kept the physical copy, but it did help them. Fair use under copyright law is all kindof made up, there are four "factors" and the judge is supposed to weigh them against each other to decide if it's fair or not on the balance, which in practice is mostly done on vibes. In the Anthropic lawsuit, the judge took notice that the originals were destroyed:
All agree on the facts of the format change. Anthropic “destructively scan[ned]” the print copies to create the digital ones. Anthropic or its vendors stripped the bindings from the print books, cut the pages to workable dimensions, and scanned those pages — discarding each print copy while creating a digital one in its place. The digital copy was then housed in the “research library” or “generalized data area” in place of the print copy (Opp. Exh. 22 at 145– 46, 193–94). Authors do not allege and our record does not show that Anthropic provided its converted digital copies of print books to anyone outside Anthropic. […]
Here, for reasons narrower than Anthropic offers, the mere format change was a fair use. Storage and searchability are not creative properties of the copyrighted work itself but physical properties of the frame around the work or informational properties about the work. See Texaco, 802 F. Supp. at 14 (physical), aff’d, 60 F.3d at 919; Google, 804 F.3d at 225 (informational); Sony Corp. of Am. v. Universal City Studios, Inc. (“Sony Betamax”), 464 U.S. 417, 447 (1984) (rightful interests). In Texaco, the court reasoned that if a purchased scientific journal article had been copied “onto microfilm to conserve space, this might [have been] a persuasive transformative use.” 802 F. Supp. at 14 (Judge Pierre Leval), aff’d, 60 F.3d at 919 (reducing “bulk[ ]” “might suffice to tilt the first fair use factor in favor of Texaco if these purposes were dominant“). In Google Books, the court reasoned that a print-to-digital change to expose information about the work was transformative. Google, 804 F.3d at 225 (Judge Pierre Leval). And, in Sony Betamax, the Supreme Court held that making a recording of a television show in order to instead watch it at a later time was copying but did not usurp any rightful interest of the copyright owner. 464 U.S. at 447, 455. Important to the Supreme Court’s reasoning was the expectation that most such copiers would not distribute the permanent copies of the work. Finally, in A&M Records, Inc. v. Napster, Inc., our court of appeals recognized the reasoning just explained, and therefore rejected by contrast a digitization effort that was touted as space-shifting but in fact resulted in the multiplication of copies shared with outsiders through a file-sharing service. 239 F.3d 1004, 1019 (9th Cir. 2001), aff’g in this part 114 F. Supp. 2d 896, 912–13, 915–16 (N.D. Cal. 2000) (Judge Marilyn Hall Patel) (citing Sony Betamax and Texaco).
Here, every purchased print copy was copied in order to save storage space and to enable searchability as a digital copy. The print original was destroyed. One replaced the other. And, there is no evidence that the new, digital copy was shown, shared, or sold outside the company. This use was even more clearly transformative than those in Texaco, Google, and Sony Betamax (where the number of copies went up by at least one), and, of course, more transformative than those uses rejected in Napster (where the number went up by “millions” of copies shared for free with others).
Yes, Anthropic is a commercial outfit. And, this order takes for granted that Anthropic in fact benefited from the print-to-digital format change — or it would not have gone to all the trouble. But the crux of the first fair use factor’s concern for “commercial” use is in protecting the copyright owners and their entitlements to exploit their copyright as they see fit (or not). See, e.g., Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc. v. Nation Enters., 471 U.S. 539, 562 (1985). That the accused is a commercial entity is indicative, not dispositive. That the accused stands to benefit is likewise indicative. But what matters most is whether the format change exploits anything the Copyright Act reserves to the copyright owner. Anthropic already had purchased permanent library copies (print ones). It did not create new copies to share or sell outside. [...]
As a result, Anthropic’s format-change from print library copies to digital library copies was transformative under fair use factor one. Anthropic was entitled to retain a copy of these works in a print format. It retained them instead in a digital format, easing storage and searchability.
So keeping the physical book should still be transformative under Google, but destroying it is "even more clearly transformative".
It is *copyright law* that is the enclosure of the cultural commons. If you don't believe that, ask yourself why Disney can sue you for painting Disney Princesses - most of which are characters from 300-year-old folktales - on the wall of a daycare.
I am pleased by people messaging me telling me that after adding a carb or protein to their snacks or meals they feel more satisfied all day. Yes, my plan is working. People are getting through their days with less hangry.
After school care pulled me aside about my child dropping an f-bomb “without remorse” and I put on my concerned face and nodded a bunch.
Apparently he was building something with a younger kid “who really looks up to him and is just starting to make friends” and said “Hey, you’re really fucking good at this.” which is, in my estimation, really a parenting victory.
Vette’s Smuggler Act 3, and some things that changed (Vette didn't really stand in that explosion but the shot looked so good I had to share)
Corso picked at his nerf ’n’ noodles.
Everybody noticed, but it was Akaavi who said, “You seem very concerned about Belsavis. Do you know something we do not?”
Corso sighed heavily. “No.”
“You’re going to need your best pirate negotiating skills to handle the Republic’s worst prisoners,” Guss said. He blinked wetly and looked at Vette. “I’d be worried. If it were anyone but you.”
“You haven’t told him?” said Risha.
“Was there a good time to?” Vette said innocently. “Guss, I’ve been to Belsavis.”
“Woooow. You’ve done hard time, huh?” Guss sounded eager and a little frightened.
“Not exactly. Post-Skavak, when Ruth’s master turned on her I transferred from the Ebon Crock back to the Light Red.” The flagship of another time, with other friends.
“We offered to go with her,” said Bowdaar.
“I do not want to get you guys into Sith problems.” When Vette said it, Risha nodded fervently. Corso just looked thoughtful. “The Empire was just starting to destroy the security systems on Belsavis’ surface. I met last year’s Ten Most Wanted in person, and that in the first half mile. We were hunting for information, for computer systems. For ways to get around a very smarmy Jedi who wasn’t there to help the Republic cause. We passed through with the smallest footprint possible. Found some things that probably wrote the book on bad mojo before they got locked away. Manipulated the Jedi into killing the woman we were supposed to stop. Left him practically crying. Moved on. Yeah, I’ve been to Belsavis. And we need to be at the top of our game. If we have to get past the cells, don’t. Touch. Anything.”
Corso sighed heavily.
“Did I miss something, Corso?”
He finally looked up from the noodles. “Are you going to flirt with Ivory, too?”
Unbelievable. “Are you asking me to leave you behind? One big helping of stacking fights without the side of judgment, please.”
Something was seeping out of Corso that had merely been bloating his facial expression so far. “I just like to know what I’m getting into.”
“Rogun the Butcher’s mentor, a pirate, and trafficker of enough sentient beings to merit getting the Republic’s worst punishment. If you’re putting that in a league with an Alderaanian fuckboy and a professional gossip, I really don’t know what you think I’m looking for.”
“We can find him, Vette. You don’t have to go down there at all.”
“I’m the one Rogun wants. Why would Ivory talk to anybody else?”
Risha snorted. “I’m not putting out womanly vibes.”
Akaavi just got colder.
“I don’t think he’s in danger of getting hit on,” Vette concluded. “Any other questions?”
*
On the surface, in the ugly string of prisons, Ivory sent shockwaves through the progressively tighter zones. He was freeing lieutenants, ripping infrastructure up as fast as Vette could roll through it. Vette desperately wanted to get him before he passed from the Republic prison to the creepy as hell ancient system.
Of course, he got to the creepy as hell ancient system.
Vette breezed past the guards on the Republic-held transporter. Did she know how it worked? No. But it had gotten her exactly where she needed to go once.
She turned to her crew. “Step one: don’t touch anything. Anybody. They call it a transit system. Ruth and Master Timmns used it to get into…well, it’s not a Republic prison, I’ll say that. This whole room put Broonmark’s fur on end, which is just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen but he went anyway.”
Bowdaar, pushing at weirdly inflated fur, growled.
“All right, Bowdaar, go back out to the doorway. If anything that isn’t us comes through, sock it between the eyes. And if I come back speaking ancient tongues, sock me between the eyes, too. If more than one of me comes back speaking ancient tongues, get off the planet and blow it up next chance you get.”
“It’s not that bad,” Risha said, eyeing everything. “Is it?”
“Let’s just say the Republic didn’t even know everything that’s locked up in there.”
Guss had wandered past her, looking everywhere at once with wider than usual eyes. “It’s just a column and a dead end. There’s nothing here except this weirdly smooth—”
The snap was a miniature lightning strike. When it cleared, Risha’s blaster was out, Akaavi’s electrostaff was humming, Corso’s arm was out in front of Risha, Vette’s teeth were gritted, and Guss was gone.
*
Guss looked around. He stood next to a waist-high stone with another smooth flat panel on it. Around him was a stone shell three times his own height, like a slightly rounded room standing all by its lonesome. One wall was totally open to a curving landscape where snow was falling on strange luminous shapes.
“Vette?” he said, very quietly. “Vette? Risha?” Akaavi or Corso might skip right to judging him. Risha would, but she was less physically imposing about it.
He put his hand on the smooth panel. Nothing happened.
A sound like sheet metal tearing came from the open wall. Guss jerked around to see a…monster. Huge, bipedal, C-shaped, with spines all down its back and small claws hugged to its chest. It was roaring.
At him.
When it stomped into the room Guss sprinted out, looking for cover. Why had he ever agreed to come here? “I wanna be on Hoth, I wanna be on Hoth, I wanna be on—”
Stomp stomp stomp. Guss sighted a pale stone arch set into an upcoming hill. It looked too small to fit the monster. He flapped toward it at top speed and hurled himself in just as the monster was closing.
The monster roared again.
“Guess you’ll need to lose weight,” Guss said, practically melting from relief. “And I won’t be here by the time you’ve done that.”
With that, he looked around. This wasn’t a natural cave. In fact, it was a hallway with a strip of what must be writing wrapping along the tops of the walls. There might be something valuable there. If Guss brought something valuable Vette would be less pissed off about him going out by himself.
Not that that transport was his fault, not really. He was sure it wasn’t supposed to do that. Why, if he had hair it would be standing on end just from the flash, and you couldn’t build an ancient dead civilization commute from that. There would be a revolt.
Not having a return route was also bad planning.
He turned a corner and found a chamber obviously furnished by a tall, creepy-looking alien with a thing for rotating zappy bits.
At least, the statues around the edges and the sweeping motion overhead seemed to say as much.
The floor was all steps and tiles, and one projector showing a blurred blue-yellow image that had to be Belsavis. The existence of a holo reassured him. Holos were normal. Holos were distinctly preferable to going outdoors right now.
A voice seemed to rumble from the projection itself. “Greetings, mortal. I…am the World Razer.”
Guss gave that some consideration. “How do you spell that?”
“What?”
“Ray-zer. Is it Razor, like removing hair, or Raiser, like bringing up a child, or Razer, like destroying a lot of stuff? This distinction has serious ramifications for how this conversation is going to go.”
The World Razer hesitated. “You cannot confuse me with your homophones.”
Guss copied the snooty tone. “You cannot confuse me with your fancy words. Uh, what exactly are you saying?”
Vette’s voice echoed, thin and distant. “GUSS WHAT PART OF DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING WAS UNCLEAR”
The World Razer’s voice sped up. “If you release me, then some day after you die I will go forward and fulfill my purpose. But choose quickly. In fact, just press the button over there, please. That’s all you have to do.”
“Vette said the things in here were in jail. Are you in jail? What for?”
“I didn’t consume the whole planet,” the World Razer said resentfully. “That would’ve taken decades. Plenty of time to ‘evacuate’ or whatever.”
“And you want me to let you out so you can take decades to eat another planet?”
“You’re making me sound unreasonable. I can give you powerful gifts if you just press the button.”
Vette rounded the corner at a blurring sprint, followed closely by Corso. “Don’t press the button!”
Vette panted. Guss gulped. Corso looked on the scene with general suspicion. The World Razer sat in sullen silence.
“It asked nicely,” Guss pointed out.
Vette waved. “Don’t. Touch. Anything. Bad mojo! Bad! We are leaving this place and catching up with Ivory.”
“Can we get back to the relatively nice prison after?”
“Leave that to me. Sorry, Evil Droid Intelligence.”
“I am more than a mere—"
“Sorry, Evil Droid Intelligence Bolted to Some Horrible Weapon. If you were bad enough for the Rakata to lock you up, I think you stay here.” Vette walked up and grabbed Guss’s collar. “C’mon.”
“There’s a big monster out there.”
“That’s true,” Corso reported.
“There’s also Risha and Akaavi,” Vette said. “I’m not worried.”
“Have I specified how powerful my gifts are?” the World Razer wailed, but they were already out of the room.
*
Akaavi and Risha were filing claws off the fallen monster.
“This is comparable to beskar,” Akaavi said. “It could be valuable.”
“I’ll help!” said Guss, obviously anxious to redeem himself. “Will toenails work?”
“There’s something else you need to see,” said Risha. “C’mon.”
Vette and the others followed her to a curving cliff over an obvious Rakata pathway. There was a big building backed up against an opposite cliff. Well, it had been a building. The shape was there, even if the structure wasn’t.
And that sunken shape was crawling with figures in varying degrees of digging. They were moving huge stones out of the way…looking for something.
“Yep,” said Vette. “Beyond my pay grade.”
“Darth Scythia had a private Kaleesh army in Ilum,” Risha observed. “And if I had to make a list of people who use private armies to get horrifying things out of odd corners…”
“Way beyond my pay grade.”
But Ivory was a side trip, relatively speaking. Voss sentenced his ass right back to prison, but managed to leverage spite to get information on Rogun. The information to get him off her back for good.
*
Voss was dreamy.
Vette knew she had to find the source of the monstrosities that had attacked Senator Dodonna. She knew she had a job to do. But she kept getting lost in the poetic stylings of the Voss official assigned to help her. After Ruth’s Voss ghost-chasing it was nice to have a contact of flesh and blood, a touch with real society rather than a succession of creepy caves.
“I have an…academic interest in offworld music,” Lokir-Ka confessed, when admitting he had a contact in the Exchange. (The Exchange was brutal throughout the galaxy, but apparently they hadn’t done anything wrong on Voss yet, so exchanging sweet tunes between cultures was still allowed.)
“I love offworld music,” Vette said. “Have you ever listened to Green Nebula? ‘Lonely in the Garbage Chute’? I can hook you up.”
Lokir-Ka almost had a facial expression. “You would do this? What do I give in return?”
“You? My chaperon? Keep your police off my back until I’ve revealed the smuggling ring they really want.” Vette already had her holo out. “Can I side load songs onto your holo?”
“I do not carry a holo,” Lokir-Ka said, as if this were normal. “My office datapad can accept wireless transfers. For study.”
“Here. Listen to this. I’m gonna go talk to the Exchange.”
Vette and her crew chased down the dealers in Gormak abominations, huge wild animals that seemed to have no choice but to obey the sizzling implants in their skulls. Vette only stopped to throw up once. Everybody seemed to know this was an occasion for kicking ass as quickly as possible. Even Corso seemed quiet while he battled the abominations to a halt, never letting one past to threaten the gunslingers.
But the question of who really ran the smuggling ring took them to the Nightmare Lands.
“Never been there,” Vette told her team at the Voss camp. “When Ruth came through she got special permission from her friend’s sponsors. I don’t think this is going to be simple.”
But at the Voss station just outside the border, with commandos blocking the way, Lokir-Ka beckoned her into a small standing tent.
Vette left her friends behind. “What are you doing here? I thought you were making the authorities happy so I could go fix up the smuggling ring.”
“I could not let you disappear into the Nightmare Lands,” he said. “Vette, I listened to your song. The…longing…it is indescribable.”
“It is?” Vette said. “I mean, the ‘I wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna B wit U’?”
Lokir-Ka gestured violently. “My tears fall to mingle with the rain/ I envy its freedom/ It may plant its kiss on any soil/ And watch the living grass that grows. That is from ‘Adasha-Ve’, a woman who loves the wrong man. She dies fighting Gormak to redeem her name. It is my wife’s favorite.”
“Oh.” Vette wasn’t sure what conclusion to draw from that. Men didn’t often recite poetry at her, that was really nice, but at the same time, usually men thinking about cheating on their wives didn’t mention their wives. “I don’t know Voss. Is what we’re doing…something only a wife is supposed to do?”
“You and I have exchanged only words,” he said. “It is not inappropriate to say goodbye. Those who go into the Dark Heart do not return.”
Oh, nuh-uh. “My people have a saying. 'See you later.' I say it every day, and most days it works out.” She felt better just saying it. But there was still the access problem. “Can you get me permission to go in, though? If that’s where I have to go?”
He stared at her. The way all Voss stared at her, all speckly and too intense. “If I must,” he whispered, “I will do this. The way is open to you.”
“Hey,” she said. “We’ll laugh about this when I get back.”
*
She got her proof. She returned to Lokir-Ka. He didn’t smile, but there was something in the way his hands fluttered that spoke of intense relief.
She walked him to his little tent, followed him in, and pulled the tentflap shut behind her back. “I guess we go to the lawyers and then I get kicked off planet for riling the locals.”
“You will receive a fair hearing. I will speak for you.”
“You’ve already said enough, Lokir-Ka. Truly, I…nobody’s ever recited me poetry before.”
He hesitated. “Then take one for your journey. Love is water. On the lips, it quenches. On the skin, it caresses. When cold, it pierces. When in every breath, it kills.”
He weighted it like he was screaming inside, trying to make himself heard through rigid statements of fact. “Do you kiss goodbye?” she said. “On the lips…on the skin.”
“Never cold.”
“Holding my breath.”
He stooped then, and pressed one poetically chaste kiss to her lips. Yeah, it would be wise to stop this before someone got him in trouble. She wondered whether he could just blame her. Did that fly in Voss society? Scarlet women, etc., etc.? It was just that he had a magnet somewhere in all those swirls.
He pulled away. She babbled. “I have one more for your collection. Looba Deen and the Frozen Juice Aisle. Failed Engines, it’s about a guy who gets stuck on a planet with no way off. While the girl is somewhere out there.” Frankly it was a downer, but the vibes were immaculate. “Think of me.”
“Of that you can be certain.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
They walked out together. Risha gave a loud “phew” of relief, which probably had to do with how Vette hadn’t banged the guy on the spot. Risha said, innocently, “Ready to face justice, Captain?”
“I don’t even have to lie under oath for this one. Probably.” Lokir-Ka shot her a scandalized look, or at least a Voss look with a heavy implication.
She went to court with him. She behaved immaculately. Nobody tried to rap her knuckles or lock her up for twenty years, which was a relief, given her total ignorance of their legal system going in.
Lokir-Ka gave her one last look. It was disappointing that she had to turn away.
*
“Okay,” Vette said. “If Ivory’s information and Risha’s tactical roundup is good, we’re going to Tatooine.”
“Do you think you can talk Rogun out of it?” said Guss.
“I am touched by your notion of my competence, but Rogun is way past negotiation at this point. Only one of us is coming out.”
“Hopefully a few. I don’t think he can shoot us all.”
“You don’t have to back me up. None of you do. This was my trouble.”
Corso shifted. “I was there, Captain. You can’t get rid of me now.”
Risha grinned. “For old times’ sake.”
Bowdaar said, “I will show the underworld what their slaves can do.”
“I’ll back you up,” said Guss. “You didn’t give up on me. You can count on me now.”
Everybody looked at Akaavi.
She shrugged. “I’m in.”
It was a Tatooine day, full of dust from a scouring wind. Vette was grateful to get inside the tunnel that would lead to Rogun’s safe house.
The big room was warm and musty. Vette didn’t see anyone at first among the gray and brown shelves that scattered this way and that, full of random kitchen-themed objects.
“So you’re not finished working for the Empire?” came a familiar, acidic voice. “You have to take out the last resistance to the Voidwolf?”
“Uh,” said Vette. “One of us isn’t making any sense, and I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”
“Stealing the Nebula shipment for the Voidwolf. Retrieving his cloaker. And cutting the Exchange out of Voss? Is there anything you won’t do for him?”
“But…no. I work for Senator Dodonna.”
“Don’t just repeat what I said. She works for the Voidwolf.”
“No.” She stepped forward.
“I have a sniper rifle on you. Don’t come any closer.”
“Any closer to what? You could be anywhere.”
“I hope that makes you nervous.”
“I didn’t know the Voidwolf was pulling the strings. I really thought I was working for the Republic. If that’s not true, you and I should team up. I’m not above a little assassination if the asshole’s big enough.”
That’s when the cryo grenades hit.
Vette whirled. Bowdaar was waving his vibroblade; the others were frozen in place, stunned. Gunmen charged into the chamber, nine of them, but they didn’t fire.
“Not yours?” she called.
“No,” growled the shelves.
The lead soldier just pulled out a holo. Two images came up.
Darmas Pollaran, and the Voidwolf.
Darmas took up the spotlight. “Surprised, Captain? Your self-interest certainly overcame any difficulty I might have expected. It was trivial to keep you hooked—and on that persona? Standards these days. You don’t know how hard I found it, feigning interest for so long.”
Vette’s mind raced. Snark seemed appropriate. “And I was just drawing all the children we were going to have together. Between all the hearts. Sorry, Loxie! Sorry, Darmas Junior!”
He looked suave but she detected the annoyance around the edges. “And to think I pretended to love this woman.”
And she had had fun, as much of it as she wanted. “I’m not ashamed to play the hand I was dealt. You, on the other hand, seem to need a lot of backup.”
The Voidwolf coughed. “I have plans for the both of you. Coren, if you would.”
*
The Party’s Over
*
Vette dropped her guns and put her hands up, jerking her head for Bowdaar to do the same. Someone raised a slave collar.
“No.” Bowdaar raised his arms and charged the nearest soldier, who was lifting another collar. Bowdaar seized the soldier’s shoulder and ripped it out of joint, howling the whole time.
“I want him,” the Voidwolf barked. “Stun him. Stun them all.”
A soldier blasted circles of energy that left Vette lying on her side, numb. The soldiers swiftly collared Vette, her crew, and Rogun…and someone stepped into view to collar Darmas.
“Hey!” Darmas yelped. “I’m on your side! I orchestrated this entire campaign!”
“And the Empire is grateful,” the Voidwolf oozed. “As it will be grateful for your sacrifice. You three have advanced my interests quite a lot, but you’ve also become problems. I have some ideas I learned from the Hutts whilst swindling them out of ships. You’ll see. Oh, you will see.”
*
Vette found out what the Voidwolf’s plan was.
The Voidwolf’s plan was gladiatorial fights, covered by a horde of holocameras.
Vette, her crew, Rogun, and Darmas were hauled onto a star destroyer and dragged into cages overlooking a round, sandy expanse studded with standing metal poles for tying things to. Bowdaar continued to go berserk every time the stunner wore off. They cuffed and drugged him. They “tested” everyone’s slave collar to optimize fit and pain stimulation. Just like old times. Bad old times.
Vette could see through bars to the arena, but her friends’ cages were out of sight. “Roll call?” Vette yelled. “Corso?”
“Here, Captain.”
“Bowdaar?” She had already heard his screaming.
“Risha?”
“Here, and sore.”
“Akaavi?”
“A coward’s weapons demand a coward’s death.”
“Good attitude. Guss?”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I could’ve done something.”
“Don’t sweat it. We’re all stuck.”
For a while nothing happened. Then the lights turned down low except for spotlights on the sand. People started filing in. The Voidwolf sat at a ringside throne, and, in time, began to gesture.
Gamorrean guards rushed to release Vette from her cage. They released Rogun, too. A forcefield sprung up the center of the arena, and Vette was led to one side while Rogun took the other. A second forcefield activated in a circle around the arena.
Someone tossed a blaster rifle to Rogun, and two pistols to Vette.
The Voidwolf picked up a mic. “Ladies, gentlemen, I present to you two titans of the underworld: Rogun the Butcher, and Vette the Renegade!”
The center forcefield dropped.
“I’m not doing this,” she said loudly. The holocameras swarmed around her. “C’mon, Rogun. You and I are both getting screwed, there’s no use taking it out on each other.”
The slave collar spat and pumped pain down Vette’s back. But she stayed up, and Rogun drew himself up, and they didn’t fire at each other.
“They’re just going to kill us directly,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Are you kidding? Rogun the Butcher and the Renegade, or whatever they’re calling me? They won’t waste us that quickly.”
“Fight,” the Voidwolf roared, and shocked them both again.
Vette sat down until they gave up and dragged her back to her cage.
“I think I know someone you will want to shoot,” yelled the Voidwolf. “Very soon.”
And it was the better part of a day, with one stringy meal, before they were happy with where the ship was or what the supplies were or whatever.
Vette got dragged into the arena. A forcefield separated her from…from Darmas.
A horn sounded and the forcefield dropped.
Vette drew her blasters and shot his single blaster out of his hand. “Hold!” she yelled.
Darmas dove for the blaster. Vette had a plan in mind and she sprinted like a rancor was after her until she could pin his blaster under one foot. Darmas knelt in front of her, his hands frozen on either side of her foot.
“Get up, handsome,” she said.
He complied. “Vette, there’s no reason we can’t…”
“I may be stupid but I’m not dumb.” She stood close to him, facing him, maybe insinuating things at him.
She kicked him between the legs as hard as she possibly could.
Darmas folded. The crowd went wild.
And just then, the lights went out.
A new player? Vette scraped at her collar, but it didn't release.
Then, from the gate, two red lightsabers activated in an evil hum.
“Oh, stars,” Vette whispered. “Get down! Guys, get down! Darmas, on your stomach if you want to live.” She followed her own advice.
And the Emperor's Wrath started the carving at the Voidwolf's booth. Screaming rose all around, some from near the Wrath, others from panicked strangers who were now fighting to get out of the arena chamber. The Wrath was a whirlwind in the darkness. Not many people got out those doors.
The sabers made their way to the lightswitch. The Wrath turned the lights on.
Vette wasn’t strong, this time. She stared at the sand instead of the stands.
There was moaning all around her, and hushed crying. Ruth was on the ground level, walking between cages, cutting them open. Slowly Vette's crew spilled out into a vague circle.
Ruth knelt in front of Vette and offered a hand up. She took it, struggling to her feet. Ruth withdrew.
And walked to where Darmas was eating dirt.
He craned up at her, his face a chalky mask. “My lord,” he said in a thick Kaasian accent, “I beg you, help me. This anarchist—"
Ruth's lightsaber tip didn't quite graze the curve of his upper lip. He shut up.
“Don't,” Vette said. “He's not worth it.”
Ruth turned back and nodded curtly.
Everyone kind of looked at everyone.
Risha broke the silence. “I think we all mean, thank you.”
“This isn't what I wanted,” Vette said miserably.
“They put a collar on you,” Ruth said. “…I should go.”
This was her first contact with Ruth in months. Ever since Ruth kicked her out in a paranoid rant. It shouldn’t have ended that way. “Come with us. Drop the mask. We can start over, but with better fashion sense.”
There was moaning, and hushed prayer.
“Is she still thinking?” Guss said half a minute later.
“You don’t know the power of the Dark Side,” the Wrath said. “That’s the only answer I have. Goodbye.”
And after she walked out, Vette realized that both she and Darmas were gone.
*
“We’re over Corellia,” Akaavi reported. “I believe the Ebon Crock is still in the spaceport on Tatooine.”
“Mm. Anybody else get off the ship?”
“One runabout. Of course Darmas Pollaran would take the fanciest landing vessel available.”
“Yeah. We need to deal with him.”
Vette slipped into the front chair and wriggled at the controls. Her crew didn’t scatter, not yet. The chaos was too fresh in everyone’s mind.
“I’m real sorry about Darmas,” Corso said. “I should never have introduced you two.”
“Because I liked him or because he stabbed me in the back? Nobody’s blaming you. I did the stupid. Lots of girls do. But it isn’t like…it isn’t like that.” Risha nodded and the shuttle’s magnetic shield opened. Vette eased the shuttle out. “Risha, find me a place to land near where that runabout went down.”
“Working on it.”
“Corso, I’m gonna tell you a story that proves I’m not that scratched up. Once my best friend fell in love with an Imperial. She obsessed over him for almost a year before he let her in. They got married. She was so happy. And then he betrayed her. He tried to kill her to make his master happy.”
Corso wasn’t stupid. “Imperials all turn out the same.”
“She committed to the Sith Emperor. She swapped out her wardrobe for black with a mask. She stopped sparing lives. She ran straight into the Dark Side of the Force, and she hasn’t slowed down yet.” Vette shook her head. “I’ve never loved anyone that much. Darmas is an embarrassment, not some kind of missed soul mate.” She spared a look over at him, and he gave her kind of a green but well-meaning smile. “We need to get you some spacer girlfriends. Make some mistakes. Commiserate properly.”
“Oh, I couldn't do that.”
“You've got the most romantic job in the galaxy. You don’t look terrible, and you’re awfully sweet at inopportune times. If you’d just look at people now and then…oh look an approach vector.”
Which was probably about the right time to change the subject.
*
“When we collapse access to Section 32, we’ll hit the Imps right in the underbelly! Who’s with me?”
Vette stood in the back of the crowd and cleared her throat. “Who told the Imps we’re about to do that?”
Half of Corsec whirled to inspect her. “What are you saying?”
“You’re going to find a fist, not a belly. That man up there? Card-carrying Imperial agent.”
Darmas looked deeply offended. “I don’t carry a card, you ignorant—I am not an Imperial agent! This is a woman scorned, pursuing her private grudge at your expense!”
“He doesn’t want to help you. He’s just here to do the Empire a solid while hiding out from my ‘private grudge.’ I did sleep with him and he did scorn me, so that much is true.”
“Yes, I loved this woman. Until I heard her mouthing oaths to the Voidwolf in her sleep!”
“Oh, yes.” Vette spoke slowly. “The Voidwolf. He can’t protect you anymore. He can’t even punish you, he’s gone, so what exactly am I supposed to be loyal to? Listen, folks, I could keep this up all day and I’ll probably have to, so I suggest you go make heroic plans out of earshot of this miserable mole.”
“Don’t listen to her! We’re one explosion away from gutting the Empire in this sector!”
“It leaves our forward position exposed,” a Corsec agent said. “I mean, if they have any advance notice at all, it’ll turn into a hole in us pretty fast.”
Darmas waved wildly. “The only Imperial informant is her! Why do you think she showed up just as we were about to blast our way to victory?”
“Because I go where it stinks. It’s a curse, really. Guys, I don’t have a soft Imperial underbelly for you, but in three days I’ll be back with a freighter and a certain way with the paperwork, if you know what I mean. I want to help you. Almost as much as I want to arrest that Imperial blowhard.”
A woman looked thoughtful. “So you want a certain way with the paperwork with this guy?”
“No, I want regular paperwork for this guy. A certain way with the paperwork for everyone else.”
“The hypocrisy!” Darmas bellowed.
“Shut up,” said both women.
“I don’t like how this collapse is his idea and we just trust nobody else knows,” observed another. “How well do we know this guy, anyway?”
Big Corsec said, “He sounded pretty good on the holo.”
“Hey, can Corsec arrest people?” Vette suggested. “Just an idea.”
Darmas clicked something in his pocket. “Code 14, I need to get out!” Then, in a dignified and manly matter…not…he sprinted for the nearest exit and made his escape.
“Well,” Vette said. “I was serious about helping Corsec. Get me a shopping list. I can get you a real good run of goods. Freedom fighters get the first one free.”
*
Vette pursued Darmas to the walls of an Imperial hospital. Corsec put her in touch with a doctor who could “get her in.”
He got through the introductions, shot her in the leg, and wheeled her into the burn ward.
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically while he patched her up.
But she got to where Darmas was waiting on a new face, marched him out the cargo door, and put him safely in the arms of rebel Corsec. In time he would face Republic authorities. And Vette’s leg would stop aching, damn it.
So that’s how Darmas ended up.
*
Wynston looked at the incoming holo and dropped his disguise. For Vette, he would be himself.
“Vette! You're looking well!” And she was.
Slim, lovely, majestically unimpressed, she said, “Nuh-uh. Don't try to charm me.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He folded his hands at the small of his back and took up a shoulders’ width pose. It was how he took all his Intelligence briefings. “What can I do for you, Vette?”
“I ran into some interesting news and I want your opinion on it. In person.”
A pain that already felt old, thrummed. “Is this about…?”
“No. But it is about the party she broke up on live holo.”
“Noted. I'd be happy to see you. Do you have free movement in Imperial space? Did you repudiate the privateer status?”
“I did not. I'm still technically a Republic privateer.”
“Scratch my first idea, then. Tell me a sector and I'll tell you a planet with a safe house.”
“Y'know, I believe that?”
“Consider it done.” He grinned crookedly. “Was that not-charming enough?”
“You're trying!”
It felt like Watcher Two all over again. “Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I give my reports like this, ma'am.”
Vette smiled on one side of her mouth. “Wynston?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for getting Jaesa's parents off Dromund Kaas. When Baras started killing people. She's grateful, too.”
“I consider you both friends, and I like my friends to be comfortable. You're welcome. Are they well?”
“They worry about their Light Side Sith kid. Doesn't everyone?”
“Those of us who have one. I have no pull with Ruth these days, I should warn you.”
“I know. I want to talk anyway.”
“Well,” he said. “That’s something.”
It wasn’t a safe house he directed her to, not as such. It was a sandy beach an hour’s speeder ride from any settlement on Naboo. Vette showed up in a quintessential spacer’s leatheris jacket, with sunglasses instead of a headband pushed up to the base of her lekku. She looked sleek and confident. He wondered how Ruth had ever managed to outshine her.
But comparing women was a short path to madness, and he didn’t try again.
“Vette,” he said, “right on time. I hope the journey wasn’t too obnoxious.”
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “Come on, hug already.”
So they did. She was warm and soft. He could definitely see…
Ahem. He stepped back. “Can I start?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Are we taking turns?”
“I think we'd better. You've had issues with Imperial operatives.”
“Did you know about Darmas?”
“No. Maybe under another name, but I haven't worked the Republic proper in years. And Quinn…you know about. So I understand if you're leery of my friendship.”
“Not really.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’ve known you were Intelligence since they outed you on Nar Shaddaa. You helped my friend and didn’t use that to get points with your ex-girlfriend.”
“That belonged to Jaesa. I did it for her sake, Ruth didn't have to care.”
“Even though it would've been useful. I don't know if I trust you, Wynston, but I think you deal fairly outside normal business hours.”
She made it sound like a compliment, and maybe it was. Just not usually one he angled for. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Are you familiar with the Voidwolf?”
“The one who gives every Imperial traditionalist conniptions? I laud the concept, but I don't know much of what he does.”
“He's built a fleet of underworld figures, and each one thinks he's working for some important independent spacer. Last week that someone became me across the board.”
That seemed awfully…structured…for Vette. “What do you want with an underworld fleet?”
“Nothing. I don't want it. I'm no admiral and I don't care what these guys do as long as I don't hear it's bad.”
“Couldn’t the Republic use it?”
“Once bitten twice shy. I don’t want to give anybody over there a decentralized superweapon.”
“But you’re talking to me. Anything that goes to me goes to Sith Intelligence.”
Vette looked crafty. “You know, I don't believe that's true. Ruth told me about the Emperor's Voice.”
“The whole battle?”
“No, on Voss. She said you wouldn't kneel until she begged you to.”
“She seemed to think that entity would be displeased if I didn't revere it. So I knelt.”
“That Entity was the Emperor, you twit. You’re not afraid of Sith, not the way you should be.”
Ah. Hm. Say nothing that could be quoted. “I obey the Empire's laws, Vette. When I think they're right.”
“And that last clause makes all the difference. Do you want access to an entire underworld network?”
He tried to talk and think at the same time, but the sheer magnitude of this gift was throwing him. “That means more than you know. No one…unlike us…will ever pass orders down that chain.”
Vette looked profoundly satisfied. “That’s a dangerous way to live.”
“Please don’t get me started on my plans. I have several of them, each more grandiose than the last. And knowing about any of them is a death sentence.”
“I knew a girl like that once. Did not end well! Don’t want a repeat.”
“I’m in no philosophical danger. This, if you mean it, if you’re willing, will go directly toward concrete measures to protect civilians. I can tell you after the fact, if you want. I’m afraid I don’t have much other currency to give you.”
“This is a gift. Because you have always been nice to me and my friends. And even if you’re a monster, you’re clearly labeled and housebroken. What could go wrong?”
It was always pleasant to think through the good things with somebody nice. “A dozen ships could move my timetable up a month.”
“This is more than a dozen.”
Stars, what couldn’t he do with influence over an underworld web? “Wherever I may go, if I have a friend, so do you. Alexis, Cipher Nine, if anyone you need recognizes either name. That's all I can promise.”
“Hey. Imagine today's Life Day and I've got a bag full of toys. Relax and enjoy.”
When he offered a hug again she stepped into it. There was a terrible, terrible tension in her shoulders and waist, but it seeped away as he squeezed.
“You're a good hugger,” she mumbled.
“I never know about the lekku. I'm not hurting you?”
“Touch one of ‘em. Let your fingertips rest. Yeah. No pressure, just resting.”
“As you wish.” Her lek was warm, firm, and under no special force.
Vette nodded against his neck. “It’s just…cozy.”
One more way to please a woman. Wynston filed that away. Vette obviously had no sexual interest in him, a regrettable if survivable fact, but she was high on the list of people whose respect he wanted. He released and smiled at her. “There, that’s business. Can I take you to dinner?”
She sighed airily. “Only if you promise to behave.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Today, one of my second graders was working on shape name recognition, and we got to this picture of a pyramid shape with a wide-ish base. When he saw it, his eyes lit up and he turned to me with a huge grin on his face, pointed at it, and said "When the teacher forgets to assign homework" before bursting out into hysterics, covering his mouth and giggling.
I don't understand what happened except this kid CLEARLY knows about the strong comedic and memeable value of mathematical shapes and emotions that I, an old millennial, cannot comprehend
I did, however, try to recreate this moment as the meme this child must have seen in his head
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