“Talon Tuesdays” is an article series appearing on InsideGMT periodically on Tuesdays.  It features articles from the Talon development team regarding the game’s design, development and upcoming release.

Issue #4

Early in development we realized we were NOT just riffing on Star Fleet Battles, although (and I’m speaking for Jim Krohn, the designer, here) the system started off as a response to SFB.  The Talon game world picked up flavor from Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Star Wars, Star Blazers, and other sources too. More importantly, the “Talonverse”, as we came to call it, came into being through our development team. One of our play testers, Robert, has a real talent for writing. Initially, we had him crafting a scenario for us, but the flavor text he wrote was so good we had to tap into that talent.  Over the subsequent two years, we went from backstory flavor text for a few scenarios to an actual story arc with characters…I’ll let Robert introduce this first section of “Patton’s Story,” one of the story arcs within the scripted scenarios that follows the crew of the Terran Cruiser Patton:

Being given the opportunity to write some of the history for the Talonverse was a daunting one, as the only information I had to go from was in drafts of the rulebook.  Because of that, I focused on the point of view of the Terran side.  Initially I only wrote Patton’s Story, to go along with the scenario I wrote.  I was asked to write more, and I tried to weave connections in through the stories to make it less of a series of individual vignettes, and more of a single story.  I’m always conflicted in where I think humanity will end up in the future.  I think the stories I wrote contain some of my belief that for humanity to survive as far into the future as the Talonverse timeline, that we will put aside most of our differences.  But there’s also some pessimism that we will ever completely get past our fear of the ‘other’ and that made its way in too.  I thank Jim Krohn for giving me an opportunity to hopefully bring some texture to his universe, to Bob Seifert for his ideas encouragement, and my wife, Mitra, who I pestered regarding how to write a certain scene involving an older Texan and a young Iranian woman which you can read in the published game.  One last note, other than some minor grammatical editing and some clarifying text which made the stories better, I was only asked to change one word (that appears multiple times in the story in order to make it family friendly).  It’s the second word in the story, and I leave it as an exercise to the reader what word it might have been.

SPOILER ALERT:  The following is a SPOILER for the story of the scenarios covering the First Talon War.

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PATTON’S STORY PART ONE

December 24, 2227

“The jerks…”

The TCS (Terran Confederation Ship) Patton’s bridge crew members were professional enough to not turn from their stations at Captain Helena O’Brien’s imprecation. But they silently agreed with her words, mentally assigning them to the three ships that had just dropped into normal space near their damaged ship and threatening to finish them off within sight of Base 395—their salvation.

Captain O’Brien was, however, referring to an entirely different set of jerks.

Two Days Earlier

“Are they responding to our hails, Mister Denigo?” Captain O’Brien asked in her Irish brogue as yellow lights flashed around the bridge.

“No ma’am.”, replied her first officer, a darkly complected man from the Earth continent of Africa. He was leaning over the communications panel and listening in as the young woman there repeated the phrase “Unidentified vessel, this is the Terran Confederation Ship Patton. You are approaching the territory of the Terran Confederation. Please come to heading 30 degrees by 10 degrees by -20 degrees as it relates to the center of our galaxy and the line extending from it to the center of the Andromeda galaxy. We have sent a graphic of this track. This will put you on a parallel course to our border. Alternatively, please come to a complete stop until we can establish more meaningful communications.” Her first officer added, “We know the communication is open and connected on their end, but there’s no response.”

“Keep trying Ensign Aminpour,” O’Brien ordered her communications officer. The Iranian woman nodded once, her black hair disheveled as she nervously ran her fingers through it. The captain shifted her gaze to her first officer. “Mister Denigo, what do you suggest?”

He walked over to stand next to her chair, as both looked at the viewscreen which showed Patton stopped near the edge of Terran Confederation space, and the unidentified ship fast approaching their position. Stopped wasn’t quite the right word for Patton as the ship was still moving through space as required by its engines, but given the scale of the display the icon representing the ship would remain there for years unless it went into warp. Denigo towered over her, but his voice was softer and almost singsong in its confident, comforting cadence as he replied. “Our orders are clear, ma’am. We are to try to establish peaceful contact, but under no circumstances can we let this ship past us into our space. We simply do not know what it is or its intentions. We should power weapons and our battery.”

Captain O’Brien gave a wry smile, and nodded to the panel attached to the arm of her chair and swung over her lap. Denigo returned the smile when he saw that she had already pressed the button that brought the ship to battle readiness by priming the weapons and preparing the battery to receive power.

She watched as the other ship moved towards them and then sighed as it pierced the line that the Terran Confederation’s leaders had decided was the border that could not be crossed. She punched an icon on her panel. The yellow flashing lights changed color to red, and a channel opened across the ship. “Red Alert. This is not a drill. All hands prepare for battle.” She remembered for a fleeting moment the old videos from science fiction shows of Earth’s past, how the ships were ordered not to fire unless fired upon. Her orders were different and were about to make her famous. She knew that philosophers and politicians would critique her decisions, and that her actions in the coming battle would be studied and dissected at War College. She knew her name would be remembered by generations yet unborn, as captain of the Terran Confederation’s first contact with an alien species.

All of this passed through her mind in an instant, and then she pushed it away. She continued over the open channel: “Our standing orders are to engage any ship that crosses our border. If they respond to our hails at any time, we are permitted to break off combat and escort them back across the border to open negotiations. Sick Bay, ready for casualties.”

She broke the connection and watched the screen. In the time it took for her to make the announcement, the ships had closed. She started a rapid series of orders by turning her first officer who had moved to his station on the bridge. “Mister Denigo, please connect all tactical displays to my panel and put the overhead view on the main screen. Set firing lines at the range at which our torpedoes and phasers are most effective.”

As her first orders were being carried out, she turned to an older man, “Lieutenant Orson, attempt to maneuver so that our weapons can fire at their…” she glanced at the display, “port side.”

Looking over at the middle aged, swarthy skinned woman sitting next to Orson, she said “Lieutenant Rojas. Fire at the other ship when we are in the ideal band for the torpedoes and facing their port side. If we are in the ideal band and about to leave it before we can fire, then take whatever shot presents itself. Follow up with phasers on the same side if odds are good for them to hit effectively.”

Next, she turned to a very tall and thin young man from Barnard’s Star-2 with a messy mop of red hair that never conformed to regulations. “Ensign Chariz. Keep scanning them and observing their behavior, weapons effectiveness, points of weakness and so on. Report to me when you learn anything.”

Ensign Rojas called out, “Ideal range in 10 seconds. It looks like we’ll get a shot on their port side, Orson, if you shorten our turn.” Orson answered back, ”Shortening turn now!”

Helena O’Brien turned to communications, “Keep trying Ensign Aminpour. Let me know the instant we hear anything from them.”

Chariz called out, “They’re firing!” at the same moment that Rojas announced, “Torpedoes away!” In spite of more information always coming from the computers than from the visuals, O’Brien couldn’t help but glance up at the two screens that showed both ships, just to the right of the main screen. The first showed a real time video of the other, now definitively enemy, ship. The second showed aCGI rendered scene of the Patton. Both ships’ shields flared, and Aminpour called out, “No damage. Front shield down to one third full! Rojas added, “Phasers firing, a hit.”

The Captain looked over to Chariz, “Ensign?”

The young man ran his hand through his hair, “Captain? I think they fired with two weapon mounts out of the four I can see and hit with both? It looks like they may have a similar firing effectiveness at middle ranges to our torpedoes and since it’s energy they can probably also hit with it at close range? Um, it also looks like their shield is already down?”

As he spoke, the graphic on the main screen updated to show a red line on the port side of the enemy ship indicating the probability of a shield collapse. The graphic also showed the two ships separating.

“Lieutenant Orson, do your best to get onto the port side again al-though I don’t expect them to make it easy for us.” O’Brien said, and sure enough the enemy ship was turning to starboard. “Lieutenant Rojas, you have priority on power to recharge our weapons, but once we get into firing range priority goes back to Orson.”

“Ensign Aminpour, any response to our hails now?” She looked over hopefully at the woman, even knowing that she would have already interrupted her if such a response had come, knowing how important such information would be to her Captain. Aminpour merely shook her head while continuing to ask for acknowledgment from the enemy ship.

O’Brien barely had time to take a deeper breath before the two ships were moving towards each other again. Chariz spoke up, every sentence ending on his characteristically questioning tone, “Captain? I think their weapons that they fired are still charging?”

The Captain nodded and glancing at her information panel, saw that Patton’s weapons were almost fully charged. And then the enemy ship surged forward with a sudden burst of speed. Orson first grunted and then shouted, “He’s too close for us to get on that down shield now.” O’Brien nodded, and calmly said, “Then take down another one.” Rojas sent the torpedoes away again and announced another hit. The enemy ship came on and finally fired its remaining two weapon mounts as the Patton slid in front of it, managing to take the hits on its own port side.

Aminpour called out, “Port shield almost gone, Captain!”

Chariz then broke in, “And Captain, their front shield is down only slightly more than half? Much more ability to take hits to their front than their sides? Also? That speed burst came from what appear to be panels on the rear of the ship? Not sure how many times they can do that, it actually appeared to shut off due to overheating rather than deliberately?”

The two ships slowly swung back towards each other again, and O’Brien knew that likely this time would see one or both damaged in the exchange “Try the port side again, do your best to give them everything we have.” The ships closed, the bands showing the opti-mum firing ranges for both coming closer. O’Brien leaned forward, “On my mark Orson and Rojas, execute this order.” She had been preparing the order on her panel and sent it to both of their own displays. “Aye Captain.” came two answers.

“Wait… wait…” she muttered under her breath, “NOW!”

After the Battle

“Ensign Aminpour, what is the status of the repair on our torpedo?”, asked Denigo.

“Engineering thinks it can be fixed. But no guarantees on how many shots we’ll get with it afterward”, said the woman in response. “Also, medical reports that our casualties were relatively light.” She paused and then crisply added, “Reports from engineering indicate that the weapon they fired works by disrupting matter more than actually destroying it. In fact, in some areas, there’s just as much ship as there used to be but the molecular makeup is different than it was before.

Denigo nodded, “Thank you Ensign Aminpour. Please pass our findings on to headquarters, and also to the Nimoy. They are nearby and their scientists should enjoy the puzzle of a new weapon.”. He then turned to O’Brien, “Ma’am. That was good work, getting us on their side shield like that.” He added musingly, “Why would they have such strong front shields and such weak side ones?” She had no doubt that he would worry at the problem until he came up with a probable hypothesis. He shook himself slightly and added, “I do not think they expected us to be able to turn as sharply as we did. Dumping our battery into shortening our turn made up for that nifty little afterburner they have on their ships. I thought they were going to get away for a moment there.”

As the smoke on the bridge cleared, she heard a voice from a station behind her, “Captain? I didn’t want to bother you before?”

“What is it, Ensign Chariz?”

The thin young man cleared his throat, coughed once, and then continued. “Well, I was able to hack into their computer system through the open communications channel, and I downloaded a lot of data? And I ran the decoder on it? And it looked like a lot of useless information? But then the decoder ran across what looked like planetary information? Like colonies and stuff? And fleet dispositions and tactical information on their ships? And well, you get the idea Captain?”

“Chariz. Do you know how important this is? With this information, if this alien empire really is trying to start a war, we could end it almost as soon as it begins!” Helena O’Brien began to stand from her chair in excitement, trying to prevent a very unprofessional smile from splitting her face. There were a couple of unsuppressed whoops of triumph on the bridge.

Ensign Chariz held up a hand, “Um Captain? But we still have to deliver it? And well, General Order 17 was activated based on the data decoded?” The young man watched his captain’s expression grow puzzled as she tried to remember what General Order 17 was, and then her face grew very still.

“General Order 17. Certain sensitive data will be automatically locked down until hand delivery of the storage drive to a Fleet Admiral with the proper security clearance. Right. The bureaucrats put that one in just recently didn’t they? There is no way we can access the data, is there? Never mind, I already know the answer. The computer is hard programmed to do it automatically.” She couldn’t suppress a slight sigh. A procedure put in because of fears of espionage and inter fleet intrigue was now hamstringing them as they faced an enemy race. “If I recall, there’s a Fleet Admiral at Base 395 where we can get repaired. Set a course Lieutenant Orson.” The older Texan replied with a drawl, “Aye aye Captain. Course set.”

She said, “Good job everyone. Best possible speed.” She gazed at the map and thought, “Bureaucrats. The jerks…”

We will conclude Patton’s Story in the next Talon Tuesday.

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