Journal entries--Creating the Power Frigate

[James Justice]

The camera blinked, pixelating before the rough image of James Justice cames into view. He is ragged, the look of exhaustion shows in his eyes. One hand rests on the half-empty glass of Correllian burbon, another grips a pen in his hand on a paper.

"Is this thing on? Hell--oh, good," he sighs, "This is Justice--James Justice obviously. Crimelord, fighter pilot, capitalist, and right now ship designer."

His hand motions to the page on the table, "This is the Thraxis-class frigate. Its an idea I have had for a while now, actually. Its big. Its bulky. Its as strong as a powerhorse," he holds up the image, illustrating a boxy shape that resembles a ship upon the page, "Right now the primary weapons will be the MMDCs, three of them. That is going to work, hopefully in turrets. We have crew quarters here, a torture chamber here, power and life support here and here. Size alone, I know it can't support fighters, and it looks like we are going to have to cut to fifty passengers. That's at most. Hopefully we can get some good speed and maneuverability out of that."

The page is set down, revealing James' exhausted face, "Someone needed to hear it," chuckles, "Not that anyone cares, this journal is private. Those are the initial markings, we will begin ground work soon as I land on Dal'Bor in," checks watch, "Six hours. Let's hope I can get some sleep between now and then."

End Journal entry.

 

[James Justice]

The camera flashes to life. At first it blares white from the flourescent lighting reflected off the white painted walls. The camera is initially angled upward awkardly, though the holder pushes it back down to a more usable position. Its James Justice again. He has shaved. His hair is slicked back and shows signs of a recent shower. His eyes have a hint of redness and bloodshot in them. He is unclothed from the waist up. The bottle to his right is Urqua. The pad to his left is scribbled over with notes.

"Its been four weeks since my first entry. We tweaked the finer details, I sent Tony Bennetta to give it the finer comb over. Gods I hate that woman," he shakes his head before taking a long drink form the bottle. "She is so fething pugilistic, there is no end to her fighting. Everything she does is angry.

"Anyway, she gave it a few once overs. It was pretty costly but, worth it. We will be using a stronger power core to support the shields and the guns at the same time. We pulled a few strings and made room for one fighter. And a docking port. I think the buyers will like that. The Nav computer had to be removed for a big enough water filtration system," he takes another drink and write something down, "We can reduce the water tank size, but that is going to make us have to cut the crew down by ten. No idea how we are going to do that--there are only so many times you can filter pee."

He sighs and and rubs his brow, "Gods I am so tired. I haven't had a good night's sleep in," he thinks, "Too long. Anyway, entry out."

End Journal entry.

 

[James Justice]

The Camera flickers to life in darkness. The lighting is tragically sparse. The shape of James Justice is barely visible. He is wearing an A-shirt that is white. Light reflects off it, from a screen to the left of the camera. The lighting from this screen reflects off his eyes as he studies it for 4 minutes 31.54 seconds.

"Just looking at a few new options, the metal we were going to use is too heavy," he presses a hand to his lips as he thinks, "Even just bare bones with plating, ribs, and engines the ship wasn't strong enough to get velocity. The quadranium steel plating was too thick," he shakes his head, "They told me to cut the guns out, but I was like 'not in hell.' That led to a massive argument with Tony. That son of a bith thinks that she knows everything. She packed her things in Justice Tower. She can leave, but she won't. I know she won't, she needs something to work on."

James pauses as he studies the screen intently for another 10 minutes 47.56 seconds. He points at the screen.

"I think that durasteel is the answer. Its a heavy composite, stands strong enough against energy attacks, but if we up the Neutronium by," he writes something on the paper to his left, "About 12% we could get greater strength. I will have the metalurgists start on that tomorrow," he takes a drink from the bottle near the paper, "We are going to put all our muscle into this. I want that ship able to move damn it. Hopefully that won't put us behind schedule." He chuckles, "Its funny, I thought that being the man in charge would suddenly make me call all the shots. I was so fething wrong. I just take orders from everyone else now. I don't even set my own goddamn time table," He says softer, "Some days I think it would be better if I was back on the Drunken Angel just being a tramp hauler."

End Journal entry.

 

[James Justice]

The camera comes to life in a cockpit. The pilot's seat is worn, made of well-used red leather. The stuffing is coming out of it in more than a few places, duck tape keeps it held together in a few spots. Streaks of light appear on the seat. No one is in sight. There is the sound of a rumble. 87% likelihood that it engines in hypespace travel. James Justice sits in the red chair with a sigh.

"We are in route to Antecedent per the request of Miss Blonde, they said they needed help and, well, while they don't need me, I still owe them support, they are allies. And good enough people, I suppose," he looks directly at the camera, his eyes are even redder than normal. Bloodshot veins claw at his dark brown Irises. "I haven't had a proper night's sleep since before all this began. Since--" he struggles a moment, "Since the rescue on Imahaylan. The things they did to me," His voice stops short. He looks to the upward right, persunably at the viewport. His eyes glisten with what looks like the beginning formation of tears.

"When I left thirty minutes ago the Thraxis Frigate's hull was finally worked out. It took us a little longer than I would have liked, but we got it down to the right mixture and property. Its just lighter than Quadranium Steel by 15%, but they said the atomic structure was stronger than regular durasteel by 50%. Those numbers matter--especially over time, with something as big as this vessel." He reaches to the left and down, producing a bottle of golden liquid. He drinks a few sips, "This stuff is piss-poor swill, but it will work for now.

"They said the power was having a hard time getting directed enough to the engine, so I ordered them to make the cells closer to the engines and de-localize the shield generators. Looks like we will have the speed and power we need to get that baby moving. When I get back the first prototype should be done with its accessories as well; decking, the crew quarters, guns in place, those sort of things. We won't have the paneling up, but we will be able to see if the thing can even move at all. Once that works, we will give the cannons a shot. If that works, then well, we are almost golden," he chuckles. "Once that is done, we will have this thing almost ready for market. I've been thinking about that. Proabably going to keep most of these badboys close to our chest. We might sell one--or two on an auction but that is about all we will want to do. Supply and demand," he smiles, "Make those laws work for you."

End Journal Entry.

 

[James Justice]

The pixelated form of James Justice slowly comes into focus. He is battered, badly. His right eye has blackened. A cut runs along is left cheek. A large tuft of gauze is taped to his right shoulder. His skin is pale, haggard. The eyes of his are deathly and hallow, even more than usual.

"Finished Antecedent," His voice is low, husky. His speech is slow, emotional and tense. "We went in hot, things were great until we captured an old biddy, then we got ambushed. It was heavy. I covered the escape. I killed them. All of them," He pauses for 5 minutes 27 seconds. "They picked me up in the street. Just about bled out. Surgery and blood transfusions saved my life. Part of me," he hesitates, "Part of me wishes they had left me there. To die. That they would have been too late." He shakes it off.

"But it is what it is. I don't like to think about those kinds of things," he pauses, "Word on the Thraxis-class frigate is that they gave it a shot--and the reactor core melted on them. It overheated and almost destroyed the entire prototype. When I get back they will have it patched up. Hopefully. I helped them walk through a better design. Something that would cool the reactor with liquid salt instead of water. Its an older design, one we never used but it works. We were going to underlay Blastos as a second hull, but that isn't working either. I told them to take it off and see if that helps with the ship itself being lighter and able to get off the ground with less force. If that aleivates the core, then that is going to solve a lot of problems. If not, its back to square one." He thinks for a moment, "There isn't much more we can do. Except perhaps cut down on size, but I would rather not do that, then we have to remove some of the cannons. And they are kinda the star here."

End Journal Entry

 

[James Justice]

The image of James Justice comes into view. He is standing on the edge of a building. Dal'Bor's skyline behind him is busy with life. The spacer looks at it for a moment before turning back to his camera.

"It took more time than we were counting on, but we figured out what the power problem was. Faulty wiring. The whole thing had to be rebuilt, we rewired the whole vessel too--that took about two more weeks out of our schedule that we do not have." he chuckles "I suppose its fitting the vessel is Thraxis-class and its torturing us all right now. But we got the power problem worked out--and I am thinking that we can put that core back where it belongs. That would be safer--and make the layout easier to navigate. We will probably have to make the engines stronger too--but that may guzzle even more power and we can't have that. Let me tell you, when this baby gets off the ground it will be so fething satisfying."

He looks over the skyline for a second as an air speeder flies by too closely, "We are still going to leave the Blastos from the secondary hull, even though we fixed the power problem. We are looking into removing some of the torture space and adding a few turbolasers. That would be nice for when the Cannons aren't able to fire. Plus, without that power diversion, it could really work. Those chambers are eating up a lot of energy, come to think of it. We will try cutting it down from 24 to 12. Go from there. I am going to try to automate some of the regulators, cut down on some crew, remove a few bunks, and a few ounces of water--every bit counts. Those will go to stronger Turbolasers. Maybe finally pull this thing off."

End Journal Entry