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What is StoryBundle?
Michael Z. Williamson was born in Birkenhead, England and raised in Liverpool, and Toronto, Canada, before moving to Columbus, Ohio. An 18-year veteran of the US Army and US Air Force, he is a state-ranked competitive shooter in combat rifle and combat pistol. His other books include Freehold (Baen), the Target Terror series for Harper-Collins, so far including Targets of Opportunity and The Scope of Justice, and Hero, a collaboration with New York Times best-selling author John Ringo for Baen. He currently lives in Indianapolis with his wife Gail, their two children, and various cats that are not to be trusted.
Better to Beg Forgiveness by Michael Z. Williamson
Celadon, a poor nation on a poor planet, engaged in civil war and a haven for every type of villainy in space, is ripe for cleanup. The military could pacify it handily, but it would take a statesman to fix it. But some statesmen have ethics, which politicians and megacorps find inconvenient. President Bishwanath compounded the sin by being astute, ambitious and capable. Something had to be done, because a working nation isn't much use for pork and graft.
When the word comes down that he is dead, the politicians move on with a new plan, re-allocating resources, and finding a new, more pliable president to put in place.
There are three problems with this solution. Bishwanath is not dead. His mercenary bodyguards are more loyal than the politicians. And if they're not on contract, there are no rules.
Mike likes knives and other pointy objects. He's also a really good writer, with his successful books for Baen. I have worked with him at several conventions, and he's even taken me to an impromptu hot rod show in Indiana. He was one of the gung-ho promoters Baen Books suggested for this bundle. – Kevin J. Anderson
Basically, I'm in it for the money," Aramis Anderson said. "Who can turn down entire weeks' worth of pay per day?" He sat back in his couch and sipped his drink. He'd already finished his lunch, and the sandwich must have screamed in terror, seeing and then disappearing down that voracious maw.
"Yeah, but I figure they pay that for a reason. This won't be easy." Former Captain Alex Marlow, USMC, remembered being young and stupid. That's why he was former captain. Granted, he'd gotten the job done, but Anderson's ego was larger than his had been and potentially a problem, despite all his training and experience.
"No, not easy," Anderson agreed. "But it's better pay than the infantry, better rules of engagement than the infantry, and better gear than the infantry."
Anderson kept bringing up the infantry, by which he meant the U.S. Army infantry. "All Marines Are Riflemen First," but the Army's riflemen were often condescending to the rest of their servicemates.
I'm probably being too harsh, Alex thought. I was much the same and grew out of it. He's well trained, and he follows orders. He didn't need to let immaturity and abrasiveness cause tension. You had to get along with your team even if you didn't care for them socially. The kid did well at the Academy, did have limited real world experience, and was quite bright. He'd keep an eye out, and say something if he needed to. After all, he'd agreed to bring the kid along as muscle with brains.
"I've never guarded a head of state before," said Eleonora Sykora, leaning back in her couch and clearly enjoying the smooth flight of the luxury aircraft. The plane was soundproofed, and even her soft tones were audible. She was a Czech from Earth, but spoke good spaceside English, if a little rough on pronunciation. She was female, slim, and elegant looking, not exactly the image of an executive security professional.
Of course, Alex reflected, that understatedness probably was to her advantage. She was not a small woman, but didn't come across as imposing, either. She had good credentials and Jason, his deputy and friend, spoke highly of her. They'd been on contract together.
"So we do what we always do. Bound to have some advantages and disadvantages," he said.
Ripple Creek Security sounded very sophisticated and classy. They charged accordingly, and paid their operators likewise. But if need be, that sophistication devolved to six or eight nasty operators with guns, who carried their principal to safety while shooting anything in their way. Their primary clients were governments and multinational and multisystem corporations. It was said they rarely lost a principal, but of principles, they had none.
"So what would be each?" Sykora asked.
"Oh," Alex replied, and engaged his brain from peripherally alert to responsive. "Likely to have decent quarters for us, and lots of indoor time. Likely facilities to check incoming individuals. Likely to have good control of vehicles and facilities . . ."
"Likely someone has a ChiNaTech Mark Fifteen missile with a microburst remote control aimed at the palace, a few planted informants in the existing indigenous security, bugs and a horde of savages outside?" Sykora asked.
"Elke, you've been doing this enough months that's a rhetorical question, right?" Alex asked back.
She nodded with a wry smile. She ate steadily and neatly from the tray, not in the ravenous fashion Anderson had. She was always methodical and thoughtful. You had to be to work with explosives.
Bart Weil had sat next to her when Anderson hadn't. Weil was poring over maps of Celadon, their destination. Weil was a big, grizzled German, a wet-navy vet turned bodyguard. This was a different mission from guarding idiot musicians and their retinues, but Weil did both well. He could be as polite or intimidating as necessary. He had the most actual security experience, and Alex aimed to exploit that. The man was quiet but not slow. He recalled their duty together during the meteorite strike on Novaja Rossia, keeping a starving mob in a blasted wasteland from looting supplies that had to be issued in a proper program. It wasn't easy telling families with hungry children to wait, or threatening fathers who were trying to see that those children did get fed when they cut the fence. At least, it wasn't easy for Alex. Bart was coldly professional.
Across from Bart, occasionally pulling the screen flat to see better, Shaman read the same maps upside down. He was slim and looked the part of an executive. He was also a damned fine doctor with lots of combat experience during Liberia's Third Civil War (or Eighth, depending on who did the counting), more than once using rigger tape, rags, and a pocketknife to perform lifesaving surgery. Horace "Shaman" Mbuto might leave you a scarred mess when done, but you'd probably be a living scarred mess, and reconstructive biosculp was covered under Ripple Creek's generous benefit package. Alex wasn't sure if the native rituals Mbuto used alone and on patients were a religious matter for him or simply an act meant to disturb and creep out observers, and wasn't going to ask. The man was one hell of a cutter and one hell of a shooter with years of experience.
Last on the couch was Jason Vaughn, with his attention focused on his computer.
"What are you writing, Jason?" Alex asked.
"Letter home," Vaughn said tersely. Vaughn had a wife and kids on Grainne Colony. He'd probably memorized the maps already, and his eyes kept flicking up and forward toward the flight deck, in nervous habit. Vaughn was a pilot if need be, an armored vehicle driver if need be, a mechanical master, and very professionally paranoid. He swung from reticent to lecturing, and if he said something was so, it almost always was. Alex was glad to have him along. Great operator.
They were all great operators. That's why they got paid better than doctors, lawyers, and most corporate mid execs. If you wanted someone with that skill set and talent, who'd put themselves between their employer and an incoming bullet, you had to pay. Contractor had been the polite term for a long time now, but the proper term was mercenary.
They were on contract to guard Balaji Bishwanath, the incoming temporary president of Celadon on Salin. Celadon was a backwater haven for terrorists and pirates, and enough events had finally happened to draw notice to those facts. The UN Forces were pacifying it, at least on paper, and the Bureau of State moved in the interim president selected by the Colonial Alliance while a new, functioning government was created. Many of the gangs, syndicates, clans, and tribes didn't want the peace Bishwanath promised. Contingents from every faction on the planet wanted him dead.
That wouldn't really matter in the long run. More troops would come until the UN/Alliance's goal was accomplished. But as with common criminals, there was a mind-set with certain people that such fights were "winnable." It was only fair, and professional, to give Bishwanath proper security presence while things settled down. The fact that he was seen as such a figurehead was, in fact, a boost to his credibility.
"Do you think we can get other contracts here, boss?" Aramis asked. "We've got diplomats, Assemblypersons, CEOs, and executives. I figure this could last a decade."
Money was one of the big appeals, Alex admitted to himself.
He replied, "The execs want to invest in—by which they mean exploit—a developing economy, and need protection from the exploited. There's an occasional correspondent who can afford our rates for a few days who might sign on, too. That's Corporate's job. We're Operations. We beat on enraged peasants and dedicated assassins, and cash our checks. Do it well, I'll give you a good review, Corp will find you jobs."
"I'll do my best."
Bishwanath rated more than six guards. They were just his immediate circle of "civilian" guards. Around and outside were plans for eighty-four more, four platoons of what were called Long Range Reconnaissance troops. At one time, such were called "Special Operations," but the euphemisms were all designed to make the military sound not quite so violent to an increasingly sensitive culture. A decadent, wimpy one in Alex's opinion.
Alex, Bart, Elke, and Jason all knew a cross section of those Recon soldiers. They'd served with them or across from them. Shaman Mbuto and Aramis Anderson hadn't moved in that circle, but Shaman had an existing history and was respected. Anderson was the new guy and took it personally. At the same time, youthful troops were valuable in part because of their need to prove themselves. They could be prevailed upon to perform suicidally dangerous tasks, and sometimes survive. Older, more cynical personnel were not so image driven. Not that Alex intended to waste the kid cavalierly, but if heroics were called for, it was Anderson he was going to call upon to jump on the grenade.
For now they were en route to Celadon and casually dressed. Much of this contract would be in suits, in limos and offices but it would also be outside at times, though, and Mahore, the capital of Celadon, was in a tropical latitude near sea level. It ran warm and muggy. Vaughn and Anderson fit suits right off the rack and looked great, wonderfully photogenic. Elke needed hers tailored, but with her short, fluffy hair and fine features she looked like an executive or a personal assistant, not a bloodthirsty bitch with kilos of high explosive. Weil needed suits specially made and bulged out of them, looking like some legbreaker with his broad features and chest. Mbuto just looked silly in them. He looked comfortable and respectable in shorts or casual clothes, and even in robes or ritual garb that would fit Carnivale, but a suit on him was out of place. Alex in a suit was just a guy in a suit.
That rogue's gallery effect was another useful feature of his team. Hide the discipline and weapons, look like showpieces, and be prepared to deal out wholesale death if there was a problem.
He turned his attention back to the shifting landscape below. The Broadwing aircraft had a stately, fuel-efficient speed and flew at a low enough altitude to allow a good view. That wasn't intentional, but Alex and Jason were both taking advantage of it now.
The landscape was patchy jungle of mixed Earth and native growth, with farms, ranches, and mines hacked out geometrically here and there.
"Fewer roads even than the Hinterlands on Grainne," Jason said without looking in.
"Mostly hardpan dirt, some fused. I don't see the highway."
"It is not visible from here," Bart said, indicating the map screen.
Things looked slightly odd in the orange-tinged light of Bonner Durchmusterung +56°2966, which was far too complex a name for a very unremarkable K3 star. Many settled people just called their local star "the sun." Some had shortened versions of the star's Earth name, like the Grainne Colony, which called Iota Persei "Io." But "Bon" or "Durch" wouldn't work well. That was a catalog name. The declination number or whatever it was wouldn't work. Here, for some reason, the star was locally known as "Bob." There was no figuring that, so Alex watched the terrain.
Scattered villages dotted the farm areas, or sprouted around crossroads. There were few towns. Little of the local life was compatible with Earth life. That was good and bad. Bad, because it meant nothing local was edible. It also meant, in this case, that the pheromone- and smell-driven local predators took no interest in Earth life. The only threats were those man brought along, mostly himself. Not that his team should ever be stopping in the remoter areas, but it never hurt to scout things out.
The buildings in the settlements were prefabs and huts of native materials. Prefabs marked the "official" buildings and those sponsored by investment. Peasants had huts. Sunlight, or Boblight, was polarized by and reflected from water bodies, but not from glass or metal structures, or polished plastic. There weren't any. This place had started drab and run-down and then slid.
Stretching, he took a sip of water. The seat was very comfortable, covered with a finer fabric than most commercial liners, and powered to support his neck and back automatically, shifting as he did. Military flights didn't rate such expensive but spine-saving hardware.
Alex wouldn't admit it was his first trip off planet. The star flight had been smooth enough, and there wasn't much to say, so he ignored it. Both Elke and Jason had been off Earth, and Jason now lived off Earth, retired to a wealthy colony. He'd retired from the military, not from working in the field.
Anyway, it made sense to soak up the view, get firsthand intel. There was nothing wrong with being a paid tourist, either.
Salin was just a planet. It had analogs to much of Earth plant life, and a few lower animals. Not much local was above very simple amphibians, though the seas were fairly active. There were a few reptiles including some flying types. That meant a lot to the scientists who studied such. To him, it meant few nonhuman threats, which was fine, as there were enough of those. Salin was smaller than Earth, but had similar gravity and lots of metals in its core. Bob was a flare star, with periodic outbursts that weren't dangerous to a human with good UV block or a hat, and barely noticeable for their small violence. As with everything else around here, it was unspectacular. There was also a certain amount of metal in the asteroids here. Those were potentially profitable, being easy to transport through jump points, but the two large and one small nations on Salin had never been able to come to an agreement about them, so they remained unexploited. Planetary exports tended to be technology, foodstuffs, tourism, or rare minerals or gems. On the planet itself there were few people with education to create new tech, there was nothing rare here, barely enough food for subsistence and certainly nothing exotic, and the ongoing tribal wars and desolate or uninteresting terrain prevented any kind of tourism.
What a hole, he mused.
He tensed slightly as they landed. This mission was still being put together and the Ripple Creek oporder did not have much information on infrastructure. It lacked details such as whether the port was automated, or if pilots had to manually land and if there were even navaids. All these intelligence holes were information he needed to get the job done, but he'd have to make do. The landing was uneventful as it turned out, and they taxied up to a very basic, sheet-roofed building that served as the terminal. That summed up what this place was like.
As soon as they rolled to a stop, he said, "Okay, debark, Elke and Bart, grab our weapons, and let's meet our principal at his new home."
Their craft was a civilian Broadwing, but was on contract to the military. Again and again that was happening, and Bart Weil didn't like it. He remembered when everything had been done at great expense with armor and combat craft. This was allegedly cheaper, but it was not safer and contractors weren't always reliable. He hated using them. Then he caught himself and laughed inside. He was a contractor and wouldn't be here otherwise. He'd done executive protection for years, but only been on military-type contracts a few months, like most of the team, and was still adapting to the mind-set.
He walked aft, out through a wave of heat and down the ladder rolled against the fuselage. They were debarking on the apron, which said what was needed about this backwater. He started sweating, but it was only from the weather, not from any threat. Yet.
There was a crew already unloading the hold, but not in the briskest fashion. That might be partly diet and climate—they had starvation-and-manual-labor physiques, even in this lower-than-Earth gravity—but he suspected a good part of it was laziness. Why work harder if it would not pay off?
Their pallet came out on the forks, and he waved to the operator for attention. There was a moment's mixup as he used a hand signal he thought meant "down" that the operator understood as "tilt forward." Bart was almost responsible for the pallet dropping and shattering, because it was the ground guide's job to direct; the driver couldn't see anything at that angle. Bart hated being in charge, or having to rely on someone, so neither side of this was good for him. He also knew there'd be a lot of that this tour. He was already tense from it. The operator, at least, had been competent if not industrious.
But he managed to guide the load down, and he and Elke snapped the wheels out from where they served as dunnage, to proper road position. The pallet could be driven by attached or remote control for as long as its ampacitors lasted, towed as a trailer, or pushed if it had to be. By itself it was an expensive piece of equipment, and what it contained . . .
The others were around shortly, having brought all the personal gear, which was piled on the crates for easy transport. They took the spare time to examine the surroundings in person.
There were moister, cooler areas near the poles. These temperate and tropical zones were dusty and dry, largely, even close to the coasts. Rivers were few, small streams meandering into swamps being more common. Here was simply bright yellowish Boblight, flat terrain with local gingko analogs, and Earth palms with some coastal pines. The dust was dun.
No one commented. It was a place. That was all that could be said.
"So who's our escort? Paras?" Bart asked.
"Just an infantry convoy," Alex said.
"Great. A moving wall of raw meat to soak up fire. I hope they're large as well as stupid." He said it mostly to twit Anderson, and it worked. Bart could see his teeth grind. That made them even for the navy jokes the boy had been telling. "Sheep would be obvious" indeed. Humor was only funny when you intended it to be.
They sat on their crates. They had their personal gear and water, with a few rations in case of long delay. Ideally, they would have armed up at once. Unfortunately, a combination of factors prevented that.
First, the crates were heavily sealed and would require equipment to open. That was to prevent theft of their very high-value items by assorted elements. BuState was also worried about "weapons in civilian hands," which was very annoying. The team would not be the agents of that distribution. Still, until they were on-site, they were "civilians" and couldn't touch their own gear. Always politics, always in the way of getting the job done.
"It would be nice to fly in," Bart said. "In a vertol or even a helicopter."
"It would," Vaughn replied with a nod, "but there aren't proper facilities. They never had a pad at the palace, and the only aircraft here so far are the Army's. They're trying to avoid this whole 'BuState mess,' as they call it."
"Well, their priority is fighting the war," Anderson said. "You can't blame them for that." He was picking at loose pieces of plastic on the crates.
"I am not blaming them," Bart said. "I would do the same. But it would be nice."
"Give it a month," Vaughn said confidently. "It'll change."
"Must be our convoy," Sykora said, pointing across the high, dusty apron to an approaching line of vehicles, most of them military.
"Probably," Jason agreed. He hadn't done this for long, but he had been in the military for years, and his assessment of the convoy wasn't a pleasant one. Mostly wheeled vehicles, almost no tracks, thin-skinned and fine against small arms but no good against any kind of support weapon. Inadequate crew-served weapons aboard. Likely great air support nearby, but that took seconds in which troops could die. The UN didn't want to appear like an occupying force, so they were using the minimum amount of armed and armored military gear. Yet another way to sacrifice troops for appearance. He was again thankful he'd accepted retirement.
He couldn't wait to get to somewhere where he'd have Ripple Creek's own drivers and support. What a sad statement that he trusted them better than the troops.
The irony was that the Army felt exactly the same way about contractors. How could you trust someone who fought for a paycheck? How could you be sure they wouldn't bug out? Why trust people who were outside the chain of command, and exempt from the Military Code of Justice?
The reality was, all those same rules applied on contract, and they'd forfeit their pay and face criminal charges if they bailed. They had some wiggle room, being an independent command, so they could dispense with a certain amount of stupidity and paperwork. After all was said and done, however, they were still soldiers.
The convoy was accompanied by a wave of dust. Everyone squinted as it rolled up. There were twelve vehicles; quite an entourage for six bodyguards. Jason surmised that the rationale was probably enough vehicles to dissuade attack—on the troops, not on their "civilian" passengers. Alternately, they'd had errands to run.
"Ripple Creek?" someone shouted from the second vehicle.
"Yes," Alex agreed, and showed ID. He was motioned up close and touched in a code on a proffered pad screen. After checking that and his picture, the officer nodded. Jason took in the exchange, and looked at the officer closely. He was perhaps twenty-five, though his face was lined from exhaustion and sun.
"Have your people climb in the grumbly," he said, indicating the next-to-last vehicle.
"Check," Alex said. He waved and pointed, and the team rose and moved. Bart had the controller for the pallet, and rolled it closer to the line of vehicles to make attaching it for tow easier. In only a few minutes they loaded up and were ready.
The grumbly, so nicknamed for the low exhaust note of its cycloidal engine, seated eight. This one was configured with an open top, and had two pintles epoxied to it for mounting guns. That meant plenty of visibility, and no armor.
Eight was the nominal capacity. There were six on the team, the driver and codriver, and then four more troops squeezed in to the seats and adjoining bed. They were armed, so no one complained, even though it meant being crunched against dusty, sweaty soldiers with bulky gear.
It was a military convoy. That meant the seats were coarse, not well-padded, badly worn and flattened, and only better than nothing for reducing bumps from spine-shattering to mere bruise-causing. The drivers were going balls-out, and the reason became obvious.
It was a local sport to take potshots at convoys. The access road was straight, flat, and had ample clear space around it. Behind rises and distant buildings, however, a number of locals were shooting.
"Which faction are they?" Jason asked the sergeant in charge of their detail.
"Does it matter?" the sergeant grinned. "They shoot at everybody. It's just what they do."
The distance was far too great for any incapacitating weapon. The gunner above and behind had a real machine gun, and rapped off a burst here and there. Responding to every instance would waste ammo, so he was judiciously choosing targets he had a chance of at least disturbing, and ignoring the rest.
"Kinda fun. Can't wait until we play," Aramis said.
"Yeah. Fun," one woman rasped. "I ain't paid enough to call this fun." She flicked her eyes at Aramis, blazing jealousy, then turned back to the panorama, watching for threats. At least she took it seriously.
Jason took in technical details. It was a talent, a skill. He might not notice the contents of an adscreen unless it changed, but he'd damned sure notice additional wires or a ladder. The grumbly was worn, one pintle had been replaced and there were two extra ammo cases jammed in storage against a seat back. He also noticed definite tampering with the safety cover on the machine gun. That was supposed to be personalized to the operator and no more than two backups because of civilian paranoia about "weapons getting into the wrong hands." Soldiers were far more paranoid of not being able to return fire, with good reason.
"The safeties are pulled," he said softly to Alex and Elke. "Which I'm glad to see."
"Yeah, some regs are meant to be disobeyed," Alex replied. Elke just nodded and glanced over to confirm the fact.
Alex had been briefed on friction between contingents. Most of the military were not happy with the Executive Protection Details. EPDs could use nonstandard weapons, lethal force, and were almost immune from prosecution for all but deliberate murder. If the local government didn't complain, BuState wouldn't follow up. Then there was the EPD pay, which started at that of a field grade officer and went up.
Of course, in exchange for that money, the EPs were expected to throw themselves on grenades or take bullets for people they might rather see dead. The job wasn't about supporting their buddies or getting the benefits, it was about killing or dying for a buck. Aramis wasn't the only one who saw it as a way to make money and nothing else. Though most who'd done it for a while also had professional pride and the love of the challenge. They were still soldiers, just hired for specific operations.
He'd seen similar friction between active and reserve units, combat and support and various branches and nations. That was settling down a bit now that all militaries belonged to the UN's central alliance. Standards were leveling out and your backup could be almost anyone, which led to greater trust after a few missions. Contractors were always on the outside, though. That distrust worked both ways, but these soldiers appeared to be decent so far.
Shortly they were in town. That was a lesson itself.
Rough shacks lined the streets, interspersed with small stores. Some had electricity, generally wired straight down from a pole and looking improvised and unsafe. Several blackened rubble heaps might have sworn testimony to that, though they might also have been from arson, fighting, or other domestic causes.
Some of the buildings had windows of unbroken glass. The broken ones showed it to in fact be glass, not a modern poly. The construction was anything from native cut stone to hewn lumber to scavenged lumber and fiberglass or fiber panels. The roads were in poor repair, some fused, some paved with asphalt or concrete, and all broken and crumbling from age, wear, and the occasional explosion.
Then there were the people. They sat on porches or in yards staring aimlessly or wasting time with simple games. Many had the glazed expressions of alcohol or drug consumption.
"Nice place," Aramis murmured. He alone of the six had not actually seen combat or fire, though he'd deployed in some pretty nasty places.
"How . . . familiar," Shaman said.
They were all alert. They'd had photo briefs and text, but actually seeing it with the Mark 1 Eyeball made a difference. The streets were largely straight but with some shifts that made clear fire awkward and offered defensive positions. They were also fairly narrow—two or three lanes generally.
"This is a bad place to convoy," Bart said. "Too many ways to get blocked in."
"I think some of the central streets are wider," Jason said. "Though the layout sucks."
"Odd to have broad streets further in but not out," Bart said. "I wonder why that is?"
"Not a lot of traffic. Nothing resembling suburbs. Most people on foot," Elke said.
"Ah, yes," Bart nodded. "That would make sense. Streets are only needed in town."
The troops ignored them, apart from an occasional glance. There was a glacier of ice there to be broken before any real cooperation took place. Alex frowned. They'd have to get on good terms with their backup.
Elke was antsy. She had no weapons, none of her explosives, and was dependent upon people with far less training to protect her. She was gritting her teeth and would deal with it, but that didn't make it fun.
It wasn't just the training. She was thirty and experienced. She had the maturity and psychology to work with large amounts of explosive. These blbé kids imagined a firefight or two made them professionals and veterans. Some of them talked like it on boards and fora, and when at parties.
Getting shot at made you experienced in one thing and one thing only: getting shot at. It didn't mean you were trained well with your weapons, or that your opinion on anything was any more relevant. It just meant you knew what it felt like to have your life in the sling.
There were construction people who knew that, not to mention explorers and mountain climbers. Demolition experts knew it, too. Every time she set a charge, she held her life in the balance.
While she mused she watched. The locals had been shooting singly, but were starting to bunch into small groups and offer greater volumes of fire. Most were inaccurate, but sufficient volume increased the odds of a hit from astronomical to . . . what would it be called in English? Atmospheric?
She leaned out to get a better view as the vehicle bounced over the rough road, the trash, occasional sticks and roofing materials. The breeze cooled her slightly, but it was still humid and smelly. There were clumps of natives behind barricades of cars or rubble, but they didn't seem to care how good or bad the cover was, or whether or not they were seen. She squinted and considered.
The fire picked up. Closer.
It wasn't well aimed. Some of the locals, "skinnies" in military slang, were holding their weapons sideways to spray. Some were holding them overhead. Others were firing single shots for better effect, but ruining that effect by snapping the weapons down, as if using them to throw bullets. None of them were in cover now. They'd swarmed out of squat, blocky apartments built of extruded concrete, now chipped and broken. They darted around in the streets shooting at each other mostly, with an occasional burst toward the convoy.
Still, there was a lot of metal flying.
The vehicles accelerated, and Elke wondered why there weren't more closed and armored vehicles. Oh, yes. The goal was to appear "nonthreatening" because they were peacekeepers, not combat troops. Apparently no one had told the locals about that.
Then she heard screeching fiber tires on road and crashing brush guards and bumpers, and the convoy bound up in a cluster. They were among two- to three-story buildings with empty windows, interspersed with sprawling town houses from the early years of colonization.
Okay, that was bad.
Whoever was in charge, that lieutenant, was a zkurvený idiot. You never let this happen. You sent out point vehicles, outriders, had satellite or air images real time, and had enough power up front to drive over or blow through obstacles. Whatever it took to prevent being boxed in.
Elke took in the surroundings as dust blew by, stirred by the tires scraping the surface. Her hair felt as if it was standing on end, despite the dust and sweat starting to cake it. She'd kept an alert eye for critical issues. Now she looked in depth. The skinnies were pouring out of somewhere, and had decided the convoy was a target. She doubted it had been planned, because the initial attack had been incompetent and undergunned, and the arrivals were not in any order, just groups.
She felt a jerk as they started moving again, but slowly. The convoy was still bunched up.
Large population, low employment or usage, lots of weapons. That was a bad scene for trouble, because it became entertainment. And yes, there were people cheering on factions in matching colors, waving banners. One group was behind a cluster of armed men and boys, who were shirtless and wearing sandals with their rifles. Another was on a rooftop some distance away. They seemed to abide by the formality of separating combatants and noncombatants at least.
The fire was increasing. Most of it wasn't aimed, but it was certainly concentrating more toward the convoy, and the law of averages said a hit would occur sooner or later.
Elke swapped glances with Jason next to her and Alex a seat forward. Their movements were imperceptible, but their expressions were clear. She knew Jason from a previous contract and trusted his input. His look agreed with hers, and that wasn't good for her confidence.
They were all wishing for armor, weapons, and contact with their people. While the soldiers had more familiarity with the area, they didn't seem to take it seriously. Familiarity was leading to contempt, but casualties were inevitable even from idiots if one didn't take precautions.
She leaned out again to assess threats. Two things happened.
A round snapped by, cracking the air and making people duck. Then, the soldier nearest her reached out an arm and said, "Miss, I think you better sit down. It's getting a little hot—"
"Just get out of my way!" Elke snapped. She got very tired being the object of protection. Especially by some twenty-year-old infantry kid she could best use as a sandbag to tamp a shaped charge with. He did move, though, even if he seemed offended. He was marshalling his thoughts for a retort but she turned away and ignored it.
Her brain caught movement, she identified a threat, and pointed, "Grenade, there, now! The rocket!"
"Huh? What?" the kid replied, looking vaguely in that direction. He clearly didn't see it.
Which was fine. Forearm between body armor and face shield, right under the chin, a twist to the grip of his weapon and a pull, and Elke raised it left-handed to her eye, clicked the safety, and squeezed. She felt it thump her shoulder as it banged.
Oh, good. His safety was cut, too. Otherwise, she would have looked very silly, right up until they all looked very dead.
"God damn you, bitch!" the kid shouted, and tried to wrestle it back. She could have kept it, but she'd accomplished what she needed to and let him take it.
"Thanks," Alex leaned back and acknowledged. He'd seen the same threat.
"No problem," she nodded.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the kid asked, snarling. The patronizing politeness was gone now.
"Your job," she replied as she turned back. They were just roaring past the building corner she'd pointed to. Her grenade had blown the motor compartment off a ground car, and shredded some indigene with an antitank launcher. She pointed again for emphasis. She controlled the shaking she felt.
The grunt looked offended. Likely that wasn't due to her gender, just due to his attitude. Somebody needed to remind him that all Ripple Creek Executive Protection Division contractors were military veterans, and either special operations vets or civilian security vets as well.
Hopefully, they'd quickly be at their destination, where her better, high-quality weapons were waiting, along with her crate of toys.
She grinned and felt a tinge of lust.
© 2020 StoryBundle. All rights reserved.


text:
デスノート the Last name
, Thriller,
In the second installment of the Death Note film franchise, Light Yagami meets a second Kira and faithful follower Misa Amane and her Shinigami named Rem. Light attempts to defeat L along...
Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller
Light Yagami finds the "Death Note," a notebook with the power to kill, and decides to create a Utopia by killing the world's criminals, and soon the world's greatest detective, "L," is...
L: change the WorLd
Fantasy, Action, Thriller, Science-Fiction, Mystery
"The human whose name is written in the Death Note shall die." After making the hardest decision ever, another serious case confronts L. There are only 23 days left and without his best...
プロメア
Animation, Action, Science-Fiction
Galo and the Burning Rescue Fire Department face off against BURNISH, a group of mutants who are able to control and wield flames, and the fire disaster they have unleashed on Earth.
Horror, Action, Science-Fiction
After trying to rescue a man on the subway tracks, two teens wake up in a room dominated by a mysterious black sphere that sends them to hunt down and kill aliens hiding on Earth.
Gantz: Perfect Answer
Action, Mystery, Science-Fiction, Horror
Perfect Answer begins several months after the events of the first film. Kurono is still fighting aliens under the order of Gantz, a mysterious giant black orb, and he is close to reaching...
Based on the popular manga, this follows the adventures of two girls named Nana who depend on each other's help to realize their dreams. The two meet on a train to Tokyo, where Nana K. aims...
デスノート, Light up the NEW world
10 years has passed since the confrontation between Kira and L. Again, Shinigami sends death notes to the ground and due to this, the world soon falls into chaos. Tsukuru (Masahiro Higashide)...
Platform: Hoopla
Set in the 1960s, high school student Toru Watanabe loses his only friend Kizuki after he commits suicide. Toru, now looking for a new life, enters a university in Tokyo. By chance, Toru...
A spell of time in the life of a family living in rural Tochigi prefecture, north of Tokyo. Though her husband is busy working at an office, Yoshiko is not an ordinary housewife, instead...
Another Gantz
Action, Science-Fiction, Mystery
Before finding out the Perfect Answer, discover Another Gantz. Aired on Nippon Television network before the theatrical release of Gantz: The Perfect Answer, this film is an alternate perspective...
PROMARE(プロメア)ガロ編
Action, Animation
A prequel set one day before the events of the Promare film.
カムイ 外伝
Drama, Action
KAMUI is a Ninja on the run from the world of Ninja bound by rules in search of true freedom. However, he is burdened with the fate, where it is not allowed to take the secret of their powers...
カイジ 人生逆転ゲーム
Thriller, Drama
Kaiji Ito moves to Japan after graduating from high school. Unable to find a job and frustrated with society at large, Kaiji spends his days gambling, vandalizing cars, and drinking booze....
デトロイト・メタル・シティ
Soichi Negishi moved to Tokyo to chase his dream of becoming a musician playing stylish, Swedish-style pop. Instead, he finds himself leading the death metal band Detroit Metal City, or...
関ヶ原
War, History, Drama
The background to and depiction of a watershed battle in Japanese history, at Sekigahara in 1600, when Tokugawa Ieyasu's Army of the East defeated the Army of the West of Ishida Mitsunari....
BUDDHA 2 手塚治虫のブッダ -終わりなき旅-
Animation, Drama, History
2500 years ago, in India, Siddhartha was born as a prince of the Shakya clan, but he gives up his position as a prince to see the world. He meets a strange boy named Assaji, who can predict...
ホテルローヤル
Set at the Hotel Royal, situated in the marshland of Hokkaido, Japan, and follows the guests, the family that runs the hotel, and the hotel's staff. Masayo Tanaka is the only child of the...
誰かが私にキスをした
, Romance
Diving to save a camera from a fall down a flight of stairs, high school junior Naomi Sukuse wakes with no memory of the last four years. Naomi must remember who she was and figure out who...
アカルイミライ
Drama, Mystery
Two friends who work together at a Tokyo laundry are increasingly alienated from everyday life. They become fascinated with a deadly jellyfish.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
The 2000 NCAA Rifle Championships were contested at the 21st annual NCAA-sanctioned competition to determine the team and individual national champions of co-ed collegiate rifle shooting in the United States. The championship was hosted by the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia.

Defending champions Alaska again topped the team standings, finishing 139 points (6,285–6,156) points ahead of Xavier. This was the Nanooks' second consecutive and third overall team title. This event was also notable for being the first time West Virginia finished outside of the top three.

The individual championships went to Nicole Allaire (Nebraska) for the smallbore rifle and Kelly Mansfield (Alaska) for the air rifle. This was Mansfield's second consecutive air rifle title.

Qualification
With only one national collegiate championship for rifle shooting, all NCAA rifle programs (whether from Division I, Division II, or Division III) were eligible. A total of nine teams contested this championship.

Results
Scoring:  The championship consisted of 120 shots by each competitor in smallbore and 40 shots per competitor in air rifle.

Team title

Individual events

References

NCAA Rifle Championship
NCAA Rifle Championships
2000 in shooting sports
NCAA Rifle Championships

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


Translation Services USA offers professional translation services for English to Karaim and Karaim to English language pairs. We also translate Karaim to and from any other world language. We can translate into over 100 different languages. In fact, Translation Services USA is the only agency in the market which can fully translate Karaim to literally any language in the world!
Our translation team consists of many expert and experienced Karaim translators. Each translator specializes in a different field such as legal, financial, medical, and more.
Whether your Karaim translation need is small or large, Translation Services USA is always there to assist you with your translation needs. Our Karaim translation team has many experienced document translators who specialize in translating many different types of documents including birth and death certificates, marriage certificates and divorce decrees, diplomas and transcripts, and any other Karaim document you may need translated.
We have excellent Karaim software engineers and quality assurance editors who can localize any software product or website. We can professionally translate any Karaim website, no matter if it is a static HTML website or an advanced Java/PHP/Perl driven website. In the age of globalization, you definitely would want to localize your website into the Karaim language! It is a highly cost-effective investment and an easy way to expand your business!
We also offer services for Karaim interpretation, voice-overs, transcriptions, and multilingual search engine optimization. No matter what your Karaim translation needs are, Translation Services USA can provide for them.
The Karaim language is a Turkic language with Hebrew influences, in a similar manner to Yiddish or Ladino. It is spoken by Crimean Karaites—ethnic Turkic adherents of Karaite Judaism in Crimea, Lithuania and western Ukraine. It has very few remaining active speakers. The three main dialects are those of Crimea, Trakai and Halych.
In Crimea Karaim is written in Cyrillic script, while in Trakai a variant of the Latin alphabet is in use.
The Lithuanian dialect of Karaim is spoken mainly in the town of Trakai by a small community. Trakai is a former capital of Lithuania, and Crimean Karaites were brought there by Grand Duke Vytautas in 1397-1398 to defend the castle. There is a chance the language will survive in Trakai as a result of official support as well as its appeal to tourists. Currently in Trakai there is a museum about the Karaite community, as well as Karaite cuisine restaurants. People from the community take part in some special holidays held in Trakai, and sometimes it is interpreted that the new coat of arms of Trakai depicts a Karaite.


Next Generation Weight Loss Support & Extreme Sensory! *Subjects using the key ingredient in Hydroxycut® (C. canephora robusta) for 60 days lost an average of 10.95 lbs. with a low-calorie diet, and 3.7 lbs. in a separate 8-week study with a calorie-reduced diet and moderate exercise.
THE COMPLETE CUTTING STACK Critical Cuts contains a uniquely ballanced, lab researched seven individual formulas that covers of all aspects of the weight loss process. This fantastic multi-formula contains all the key active ingredients involved in weight management, metabolism and body fat.


Riley Surface World deals in high quality used and second hand surface finishing equipment from some of the world's leading manufacturers including Efco. This page allows you to see a collection of machines manufactured by Efco. You can find machines manufactured by many other makers if you search our site by surface treatment application area.
Very heavy duty Efco 36kw 800c air circulating oven.
The EFCO FAC (Forced air circulation) Is a top loading furnace with internal dimensions of 290 x 500, which is ideal for hardening, normalising and the annealing of shafts and machined components.


Simple yet elegant, this enchanting diamond ring is certain to capture her attention. Crafted in cool 10K white gold, this elegant style features a glowing 1/4 ct. diamond center stone nestled in-between diamond-lined crossover ribbons that continue along the ring's shank. Brilliant with 1/2 ct. t.w. of diamonds and a bright polished shine, this ring is destined to please.


THIS weekend has been far from normal. It's been very ordinary, but not our normal kind of weekend because we haven't left the house. We unintentional started potty training on Saturday and thought the safest move would be to just stay at home while S got used to not wearing nappies.
Most parents of toddlers will agree that it's easier to be out of the house – being cooped up indoors for more than a day makes everything louder, more frantic and difficult to deal with. Fresh air solves so many problems! But with it being so cold out we didn't want to go for a walk, and the idea of an accident at soft play wasn't exactly appealing, so two days in it was.
Between episodes of Paw Patrol and Peppa Pig, Play Doh and playing cars, we built quite a few dens with the settee cushions. It's one of S's favourite things to do – we've made houses, castles, and this weekend's den of choice, a pirate ship complete with a plank. Along with dragon-hunting, playing pirates is a big hit. So the cushions have spent more time on the floor than on the chair and we've been ordered to play Smee, peg leg (what can I say? Toddlers aren't PC) and the crocodile from Peter Pan, while S is always Captain Hook. Stew thinks he identifies with the bad guys for some reason as Zurg is his favourite in Toy Story and he always asks for the sharks in Finding Nemo.
It's really quite endearing to see how S and E are starting to interact with each other. With two years between them I thought it would be lot longer before they could play together, but they're managing quite well already. Of course, at eight months old E doesn't get what's going on, and he tends to eat whatever prop he's given, but it doesn't stop him from being a pirate!
While we're on the subject of our littlest man, guess who has a tooth?! Yup, he's no longer a gummy bear. I'm surprisingly sad about this as it means his little toothless grin won't last much longer. He's already pulling himself up on whatever he can to stand and trying to cruise along the furniture, I'm not ready for him to have teeth too. Hopefully this is the reason behind his poor sleep recently – when I think of it like that I can't wait for his full set of teeth to come through!
The rest of our week has been pretty uneventful. I got really excited about an embroidered denim jacket on the Topshop website, bought it and took it back the next day because I'm not 18 and can't pull off the oversized look. I then got really excited about FINALLY ordering the new placemats I've been after for a while and realised just how old I really am. They are really cool though, honestly. Oh and I got my hair dyed. I was getting sick of ombre as the blonde seemed to have changed tone, so I've gone for an all-over colour. I really wanted to go auburn, but somehow the hairdresser took the photos I showed her and saw dark brown … hmmm.
We have a busy week coming up – I have a couple of meetings in work, a course on Friday, a meal and drinks with a lovely friend who is home from Canada and our uni group, a night out with former work friends, and S has a party on Saturday afternoon. I think we'll be staying in next Sunday to recover from all that!
Sounds like lots of fun was had playing pirates. Your last photo is so sweet.


Home NEWS Kiambu MCAs turn assembly into a "War Zone" over Ksh1 Billion Supplementary Budget.
Kiambu MCAs turn assembly into a "War Zone" over Ksh1 Billion Supplementary Budget.
Business at the Kiambu County Assembly was interrupted on Thursday afternoon when Members of the County Assembly (MCAs) turned the chambers into a combat zone.
Two warring factions clashed over a proposal to reconstitute the Finance Committee and increase the county's recurrent expenditure by Ksh.1.2 billion in the 2019 supplementary budget.
Hell broke loose immediately after Kiuu MCA Daniel Ngugi, who is the chairman of the Adhoc Committee on Finance, tabled the supplementary budget bill for debate.
A section of the members protested the move, accusing Speaker Stephen Ndichu of sneaking the bill through the backdoor without following the house Standing Orders.
The MCAs in the Budget and Finance committee questioned why the committee was split in a hurry. The committee had presented a report on the executive's spending. The report said money was misappropriated and the county Finance chief and the Finance executive had failed to honour summons to explain.
"The Speaker is allowing breaking of house rules to introduce a document which has not followed proper procedures and we cannot allow that. We read a sinister motive of passing a document that has misappropriation of public funds," said Kihara MCA Kabau Muthondu.
The speaker was forced to adjourn the session after his efforts to bring the house to order failed, prompting the intervention of sergeants at arms.
For more than 20 minutes, MCAs from opposing camps exchanged blows, turning the assembly into a war zone. Bottles of water were thrown across the assembly floor and water poured on the seats.
Following the standoff four MCAs representing Ndenderu, Sigona, Ndeiya and Ikinu were suspended for three house sittings.


Open palm design enables the easy application of submissions, locks & throws.
Hook & loop Velcro enclosure for easy adjustments.
Flexible 2 inch wide wrist strap prevents discomfort.
There has been a recent movement within the fitness world towards combat based training classes such as body combat, boxercise, cross fit and other striking exercise classes. As these classes become more diverse in the range of exercises performed there has been a great demand for open palm gloves such as the Iron Fists. The open palm design enables users to strike their pads and then quickly return to their burpees without the need to remove the gloves.
This is 1.2 inches in depth above the knuckle line and across the high risk areas of the hand helps prevents injury. The specifically designed foam enables a high level of protection with minimal interference on hand mobility.
Ensuring that the gloves are securely attached to the athlete, the fitting can be adjusted easily throughout training.
Offers an ease of movement to allow athletes to perform their submission, locks and throws without wrist discomfort.
Suitable For: MMA, Wrestling, Cross Fit, Thai Boxing, Karate, Jiu Jitsu, Muay Thai, Taekwondo, Boxercise, Body Combat, Personal Protection, All Martial Arts.
Uses: MMA Gloves can be used to train most martial art disciplines. There has been a recent movement to MMA Gloves within fitness classes such as boxercise, body combat and cross fit. Improvements can be seen in punching speed, power, hand & eye co-ordination, cardio vascular levels, personal protection, fitness, weight loss & general health.


text:
Q: Structure constants from Dynkin diagram Is there an easy way to obtain the structure constants of a Lie Algebra starting from its Dynkin diagram?

A: Yes, there is. You can write down the Cartan matrix from the Dynkin diagram as usual, and then proceed with the Serre relations. See also here:
Computing information about a Lie algebra from cartan matrix
On the other hand, if you know the name of the root system, then you also know the matrix Lie algebra. In the above case it is $B_2$ and hence the matrix Lie algebra $\mathfrak{so}(5)$. This gives you the explicit Lie brackets by $[A,B]=AB-BA$.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Land Code Communities – 5 Ingredients of Effective Environmental Management Plans
by Zoë Barrett-Wood | Oct 25, 2017
An Environmental Management Plan (EMP) is a community-specific plan for managing environmental issues and protecting environmental values. EMPs are being developed by many First Nation Land Code communities as part of protecting and managing reserve lands for current and future generations.
As discussed in our recent blog post, First Nation Land Code communities are those communities opting out of lands management sections of the Indian Act, and developing their own laws to assert control over their lands under the First Nations Land Management Act (FNLMA). This process enables communities to move closer to self-governance. Under the Act, Land Code communities are responsible for managing natural resources, designating use of reserve lands, and protecting the environment. EMPs have emerged as an effective tool for achieving these goals.
Most EMPs include identification and description of the following:
Key environmental issues within reserve lands
Major goals and vision for the state of the environment on reserve lands
Strategies, rules and regulations for managing environmental issues on reserve lands
Beyond those key components, the structure and content of an EMP can vary. Very basic EMPs can end up looking similar to the provincial and federal regulations they replace. Many of our clients feel that a community-specific EMP should go above and beyond the minimum requirements, and should encompass a community's Indigenous knowledge (IK), as well as rights, values and interests.
Our approach to EMPs is different (and we think better!) because we focus on the importance of IK and community engagement along with providing environmental expertise. We think this makes all the difference between a plan that sits on the shelf gathering dust, and one that leads and drives postive change! In the EMPs we conduct for our clients, we focus on 5 key ingredients above and beyond providing environmental expertise:
Focusing on community interests and needs
Facilitating high levels of community engagement and participation
Meeting and exceeding (where warranted) provincial and federal regulations and guidelines
Integrating community-specific Indigenous knowledge
Highlighting potential community stewardship strategies
Five Key Ingredients for Amazing Land Code Environmental Mangement Plans:
1. Focusing on community interests and needs
Throughout the development of the EMP, we meet continuously with community leadership, elders, land users and other community members to fully understand community concerns and priorities with respect to the environment. We review existing community documents related to lands and resources, and draw connections between the environmental management plan and other community initiatives. Through this understanding of community context and community members' perspectives, we're able to develop EMPs that: align with community interests and vision for the future, fill existing gaps in environmental management, and address pressing environmental issues on reserve lands.
2. Facilitating high levels of community engagement and participation
For an EMP to work, it is critical that community members are involved in the EMP development process. By involving the community in the identification of priorities, sharing of knowledge, reviewing of options, and implementation of the plan, we ensure that the plan is appropriate and that community members will accept and respect it.
3. Meeting and exceeding provincial and federal standards
We believe it is a wasted opportunity to create an EMP that takes existing provincial and federal environmental legislation and switches the authority over to community government. Community-specific EMPs allow Indigenous communities to implement regulations and guidelines that go above and beyond provincial standards or regulations, and align more closely with their rights, interests and values related to environmental protection and management. EMPs must reflect a community's high standards for environmental stewardship, long-term sustainability, and seven generations planning.
4. Integrating local Indigenous knowledge
We understand that to make an EMP appropriate, effective, and reflective of an Indigenous community's rights and interests, local Indigenous knowledge must be drawn upon and incorporated in a meaningful way. Land users, and those whose ancestors have been connected to the earth for millennia, hold immense knowledge ofenvironmental management. Through the gathering and integration of this knowledge with western-based science, we work with communities to create management strategies and tools that are culturally-appropriate, holistic, scientifically-sound and effective.
5. Highlight community stewardship strategies
We recognize the importance of community involvement, not only in the creation of an EMP, but in the long-term management of the environment. By encouraging everyone to take responsibility for environmental management, the lands and waters are likely to be better protected. Our EMPs include community stewardship initiatives that: a) help community members learn about various elements of environmental management and protection, and b) provide community members with opportunities to play a hands-on role in environmental management. This approach tends to align well with our client communities' commitment to being stewards of the land, and working collectively towards environmental sustainability.
EMPs can play an important role in Indigenous communities moving towards self-governance, and asserting their rights, and control, over the governance of lands and resources. We believe that effective EMPs provide communities with a roadmap for environmental management that is informed by community context, that involves a wide cross-section of community members, that is culturally appropriate, and that exceeds provincial and federal environmental standards.
At Shared Value Solutions, our EMP team includes people with expertise in the fields of environmental planning, cultural anthropology, ecology, biology, water resources, archaeology, human health, and more. If your community is interested in learning more about the Land Code process, land use plans, and/or EMPs, please get in touch with us, we'd love to talk. And keep an eye out for our upcoming blog post on funding sources for Land Code communities.


text:
Tech Life You follow people, not content
The Art of the Tweet
In writing an article, I know I'm done when I delete. The process leading to done is chaotic; it's days, weeks, or months of aggregating writing where I collect and organize paragraphs and sentences. Over time, content creation becomes content shaping as I organize the thoughts into a pleasing coherence.
And then, in a moment, it's done. It looks nothing like the final product, I still have hours of writing and editing to do, but I know that I'm done because I can see the arc and the shape of the piece. I have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but, most importantly, I have the new ability to remove. I can delete. A line here, a paragraph there — I can let go of things of former importance.
It's one of the biggest writing lessons I've learned in the past few years — the art of less — and the appearance of Twitter has only reinforced this lesson's importance.
Two Tweets, Three Guidelines
There are two kinds of tweets:
Original material. This is you talking to everyone.
Retweets, quotes, and links. This is you forwarding a thing that you find interesting to everyone. For simplicity's sake, let's just call these retweets.
There's another type of tweet that I want to talk about briefly and that's the conversational tweet. What does this tweet tell you?
@commanda No clue
Not a thing. As you'll see with the three following guidelines, my Twitter expectation is that each time I glance at my Twitterstream that I can something of value in any tweet. While conversational tweets are interesting for you and the recipient, they leave the rest of us in the dark.
Say More with Less
Tweet material just shows up. I'm sitting there in someone's office when they say something which is, well, twitterable. This identification process has become annoyingly front-of-mind over the past year to the point that I interrupt important meetings with the simple declaration, "That's twitterable".
With solid twitterable material on my hands, I ask, "Does it need an edit?" The editing of tweets started out as a practicality for me. I needed to know whether or not my rough tweets were more than 140 characters, so I'd fire up WriteRoom, which conveniently counts characters, words, and paragraphs. Yes, I know Twitteriffic counts characters and so does the Twitter web application, but writing happens in big, open places. I don't like typing in boxes; I want a canvas.
With the rough tweet dumped into WriteRoom, I start cutting. First to get it under the 140-character limit, but, more importantly, to reduce the idea to the basics. The Elements of Style has advice here. They suggest: "Avoid fancy words". Why utilize when you can use? My advice is similarly confusing: "Drop words to give them room to think".
In my head, I'm cutting words from my tweet to give you room to mentally add your own:
BEFORE: If it's 4am, I know how stressed I am.
AFTER: Stress is how well I know 4am.
Nine to seven words. Slight reorganization, but which says more to you?
The act of editing a tweet seems contradictory to the impulsive nature of tweets, which means this is a good time to remind you that I'm a repeatedly stated firm believer that Twitter is what you make of it. I want my tweets with a bit of art. I want each word considered. You want to share the intimate details of your Battlestar Galactica watching habits. Whatever works for you, but how about…
Don't Say What You're Doing, Say Why You're Doing It
The question Twitter asks is, "What are you doing?" I can't think of the last time that I followed that direction. Fact is 95% of my day would bore the shit out of you. Really. There's a chance you might derive some meager inspiration from the fact that, right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop writing — talking to no one — but what is more interesting is why I'm here. Why I choose to do what I do. The tweet is, "Avoiding a meeting I hate".
It's just a mental step further from "What are you doing?" It's a moment of introspection to transform the boring details of your day into delicious group therapy. This is why I think you should…
Add a Bit of Yourself
Twitter is you. I'm a big fan of the retweet, but I have the same fundamental problem with it that I have with literal answers to "What are you doing?" My question about the zero-add retweet is, "So what?"
Yes, the point of the tweet is the link and, yes, I follow some people because they are experts at finding compelling content on the Web that I probably care about. I don't want just the content; I want to know what you think about it. Retweeting an article? Great, what's the one line you love? Think that lolcat is funny? Me too, but why?
BEFORE: NYTimes Graphic: Home Prices in Selected Cities: http://bit.ly/4CjL (@khoi)
AFTER: Ouch. Phoenix: http://bit.ly/4CjL (@khoi)
I've already got a bevy of sites that are scrubbing and prioritizing the web for me. I check them four times a day and they serve their purpose well. But these sites lack authenticity. I don't need another list of interesting links.
In Twitter, you follow people, not content.
My brief research into the English language revealed the average character count of a word is eight. Throw together a bunch of a smaller and bigger words, some single spaces and punctuation and you roughly end up with the average 140-character tweet being somewhere between 14 and 20 words. Let's call it 15.
15 words.
In my opinion, the art of a good tweet is not just how much you can convey using extreme brevity, it's also how you can take an idea, shape it with a bit of yourself, and give it to someone else who, if you've given them reason, will do the same.
# March 2, 2009
Chris 10 years ago
So twitter = the haiku of net2.0?
Brevity, pithyness, wit, allusion.
Scott Rosenbaum 10 years ago
stress => 4am, still working
Ryan Fox 10 years ago
Maybe my mind is malfunctioning, but neither of these make sense to me. The 'after' tweet sounds like a Markov chain.
If there's plenty of room left in your tweet, there's no point in confusing people.
Manton Reece 10 years ago
Enjoyed the essay. There is an art to conversational tweets as well, though. My rule of thumb is that half of my @replies should make sense to other followers. Not just "@commanda No clue", but "@commanda No clue, because…". The second part of that tweet is hopefully strong alone.
Because of Twitter's default settings, many followers won't see the reply, so it's kind of a like a free "bonus content" tweet, expanding on an idea without overflowing its original 140 box.
fourstar 10 years ago
I'm with Manton; conversational tweets can (and should) be intriguing enough to draw other people into the chat, if you welcome them. If not, DM.
KiltBear 10 years ago
And sometimes, sometimes, twitter is simply a great way for friends to stay in touch. Sometimes it is the rss feed of several other social tools. It can be more about being social and less about being a tool.
Life is interesting enough, that even if you do miss a couple of really important things, you'll "be okay."
The best analogy for twitter for me is to think of it as walking through the room of a cocktail party.
Tom Harrington 10 years ago
It could just be me but that second before/after example looks like overediting to the point of, well, losing the point. "NYTimes Graphic: Home Prices in Selected Cities" might not be the best phrasing possible but it'll make me want to click on the link to see what useful or interesting stuff might be found. But "Ouch. Phoenix" is more or less meaningless and almost certainly something I'd ignore. It drops any clue about what the link references as well as taking a national story and making it seem like it has only regional relevance.
Too many tweets like that and I start thinking of the author as a series of non-sequiturs. Or if I'm not following them already, posts like that don't stoke any interest in adding them to my list.
Patrick Malley 10 years ago
@tom – that might be true; Rands example is a little short, but I appreciate a tweet that gives me credit as a consumer of news elsewhere in the world.
I don't typically follow people as beacons of headlines I could easily find in my news feed, or on other news sites. I follow people because I want their take on it.
Bosco Ho 10 years ago
This is a rather nice description of the process of writing poetry.
@patrick: It's not about being interested in news from other parts of the world, or about whether the link could have shown up in your RSS reader. It's about whether the tweet includes enough information to make sense, and about whether posting a link includes even a basic clue as to what the link is about. I'm not defending the initial wording, I just think the replacement has so little information that it becomes useless.
neb 10 years ago
Well, I wouldn't have clicked on a tweet just linking to house prices by city, but I *did* follow the link to find out what was so "ouch" about Phoenix… and subsequently found those graphs interesting.
As for the poetry thing, well, I'd say we all need a little more poetry and a little more art in our lives.
Charles Parnot 10 years ago
You mean, like this:
"Sometimes, I think about a tweet all day until I got it all ripe in my head… Thank god I am not the only crazy one: http://bit.ly/5G5b0"
Søren Hansen 10 years ago
You made me realise the mistakes that made me stop twittering.
John Fishback 10 years ago
Re: Agreed. This is the second thing I tell friends who ask me to explain Twitter. That's not because I'm wise. It's because I am going to have to follow them and I don't want to read a play by play.
But also: You've helped me realize that there's room for magic in articulating the "why." I've spent the last couple of hours reviewing the financials of a project. I could tweet, "Trying to make ends meet on this project," but that would just depress everyone, especially me. Tweeting "Clearing up cash flow so I can focus on getting things done right" gets my own head in the right place for actually working. Useful.
Geoff Barnes 10 years ago
Nicely put, rands.
How are you scrubbing and prioritizing the web? I'm in dire need of something more effective than google reader 🙂
Faruk Ateş 10 years ago
The "Ouch. Phoenix." tweet was one that I ignored, for precisely the reasons Tom mentioned above. It was over-edited and no longer conveyed any sensible content the link was about — reinforced by the fact that "Phoenix" is a very ambiguous word to use. Was Rands referring to the city, the bird, the X-men universe archetype? I didn't care anymore to find out due to the lack of information in the tweet.
The essay was useful nonetheless, because just a little bit of thought put into these things can prove invaluable. What I'm trying to say is simply that there is such a thing as too much thought as well.
Vicki 10 years ago
I agree with several commenters that some of the examples here were… a bit too abbreviated. As Ryan Fox wrote "If there's plenty of room left in your tweet, there's no point in confusing people." The way I put it in my twelcome page is "You have 1430 characters. Use them."
That said, I agree with the spirit of the article if not the specific examples. Think. Consider. Edit as necessary. Make the thought come alove. Help your audience to see or feel what you do. Try to stay positive (who wants to follow someone who is always down?) I liked John Fishback's example of getting your own head in the right place.
Personally, I try to make my @replied be understandable for anyone who missed the other half of the conversation. I try to tack a comment on to a retweet (why did I think this was worth passing on?) I try to add value. I hope I succeed.
I want my tweet stream to be one I would enjoy reading if it wasn't my own. 🙂
Dmytro Malenko 10 years ago
Haiku was the first thing that came to my mind after reading this. Twits are short so it is more important what reader thinks and feels after reading it, not that it literally has to say. But I guess what you say should only be one step further than what you mean. Two steps and no one (almost) will get what you mean.
Jason 10 years ago
Tired of Twitter talk…
Joe Pemberton 10 years ago
Your readers might enjoy a piece on Twitter etiquette about making replies relevant to your network and about filtering yourself.
http://idlemode.com/2008/10/15/twitter-etiquette-a-refresher-course/
rusty gifford 10 years ago
I hope I never use the term 'twitterable', let alone stop a conversation to utter such nonsense.
Scott Jon Siegel 10 years ago
It sounds like the issue isn't necessarily brevity, but relevancy.
I changed my Twitter settings to address this. Now, I only see @ replies to people I'm following. So I either get all of the conversation, or none of it. It makes for a better beacon. Or at least a narrower, more focused one.
Alex H Santander 10 years ago
Loved your thoughts about spicing your twitters with your flavor. Great examples too. Let's also remember that Twitter IS NOT Instant Messaging nor a to the minute update of how your day is going.
Riccardo Mori 10 years ago
Like a haiku.
miltoncontact 10 years ago
Don't twitter. Tweet!
Rebecca 10 years ago
Smart, simple, and straightforward. This reinforced many reactions I have had but had not really thought about to now. Thanks for the informative tips.
iaax Page 10 years ago
its a practical mental exercise, say why are you doing what you are doing in only 15 words!
I'll give it a try!
Rob 10 years ago
I've struggled with the whole "what" thing. "Why" makes so much more sense. Thanks.
Roger 10 years ago
Rands: you're a superb writer, and I await your new posts with trepidation.
But if I read another post about that useless purulent boil on the Web's ass that is twitter, my love for your writings will be irreparably dented by what I perceive to be a chink in the force field I felt surrounded you and made you impervious to faddish hogwash.
I want the Rands who writes 1,200 words about notebooks and conducts shootouts of rollerball pens. The free-thinking, fuck-you-I'm-an-anteater Rands.
For mundane chronicles of the useless, overhyped, and ordinary, I go to cnet and techcrunch. You're way better than that.
Logan 10 years ago
Would love to see where your research into the average number of letters in the English language comes from.
Matt Trifiro 10 years ago
Rands,
You are a terrific writer! Witty and refreshing.
I pretty much blast through blogs, speed-reading to extract information on a schedule. Rarely do I stop and become engrossed.
With your site, I paused, read, clicked. Paused, read, clicked. Paused, read, read, read, clicked.
30 minutes later: Bravo.
sean 10 years ago
I hate to nitpick, but the mean/median/mode problem seems to have infiltrated into your research regarding the average English word length. In the average modern English corpus assembled for language study (ie: newspapers, AP articles, bestselling books), the average English word is about 5 letters. I know that when calculating how many words a person can type per minute, they use the measure of 5 characters and a space as a word.
This automated survey of international literature archives suggests 5.10 letters per word in English.
uppee 10 years ago
Uhhh dude. U right lik real kool about the tweety bird. r deez othr ppl like so super smart r sumting. odor ppl stop it hatng.
Angela 10 years ago
It's refreshing to come across a blog with such cool content and witty writing style. Thanks for that. I'm just beginning in the twitter world and need more of your insights. 🙂
Joshua Bloom 10 years ago
I'm always reminded of Hemmingway's shortest story.
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
Packs quite a lot into 6 words.
Ari Lestariono 10 years ago
Things that I like after watching web 2.o, blog, IM motivation in youtube is really inspiring.It's like giving a boost to your adrenalin and when you feel down it sparks like fire.Anyway about tweet , in my humble opinion is not the only Social Media you can depend on, it's only a tool.The more important thing is yourselves Passion in this business.
Jonathan Odermann 10 years ago
"a glimpse and a hook" was forwarded to me in an email from experience.com along with a link to your blog. I found your definitions of tweet and retweet very useful. I know very little about twitter, but perhaps I will learn more soon.
Mike Grace 10 years ago
Improving communication by using twitter more effectively. I like it. Thanks.
Niklas 10 years ago
My take on this: #smalltalk80 Twitter is RSS with brains.
christmasrush 10 years ago
Mornin`
nice content..
thanx man for sharing
Adri Munier 10 years ago
I just follow people generated content
colorblind 9 years ago
Hi. I needed to make you aware that some parts of your site are hard to read for me, as I am color blind. I am afflicted by protanopia, but there are more types of color blindness that will also have issues. I will read most of the web site OK, and those elements I have issues with I can read by employing a special browser. In any case, it'd be nice if you would keep in mind we color-blind surfers when carrying out your next web page re-working. Many Thanks.
The 2018 Emoji Report
Traveling with Me is a Nightmare
Kobayashi Maru Management
Everything Goes in a Context Bucket
Rands Information Practices
PreviousThe Makers of Things NextA Twitter Decision


Slide!! is a relaxing puzzle game. You must slide each block on to its goal square. Once you start a Slider moving, it will not stop unless it hits something. There are 100 levels to play. Can you beat them all?
We have designed Slide!! to be a relaxing experience. You solve the puzzles by moving the coloured blocks (or "Sliders") at a slow and steady pace. Once you start a Slider moving, it only stops when it hits a wall or another Slider. That means, sometimes, you need to time their movements to stop each other.
There are 10 tutorial levels to introduce the mechanics of the game and also the scoring system. You can earn up to 3 stars when you complete a level. The first is for solving the puzzle, the second for using the target number of moves (or fewer) and the third for beating the time limit. Sometimes, you will have to multitask to beat the time limits.
There are 25 Easy, 25 Medium and 25 Hard levels. There are also a further 15 Bonus levels. Who knows what happens if you 3 star all levels?!


Brian McLaughlin has named a 20 man Scotland Under-17s squad, for two international challenge matches away to Wales this month.
There are first call-ups for Lewis Fiorini of Manchester City and Aidan Fitzpatrick of Partick Thistle.
The squad features 13 Scottish FA JD Performance School pupils including a large number of players who played in the International Tournament in England last month.
The tournament will act as preparation for the Under-17 European Championship qualifying round in Estonia where they will play the hosts as well as Andorra and Denmark.


text:
Q: How improve my if statements in a route [Node.js] app.get('/dashboard/:page/:param',function(req, res) {
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            res.render('index2', {
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});

I have this route, and i am using for rendering two pages.
If the page have a param, i want find the id in my database and render de index2, if not i just want render the index.
My question is simple: This is a good way of resolve this problem? Or should i move the else to another route??
Can i improve this to be more dry???

A: does this looks cleaner for you?
app.get('/dashboard/:page/:param', function (req, res) {
  var page = parseInt(req.param("page"));
  var param = req.param('param');

  data = {
    page: page,
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  };

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    .sort('brand')
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    .exec(function (err, result) {
      res.render(param ? 'index2' : 'index1', {
        data: data,
        result: result
      });
    });
});


The Parol is a traditional Philippine star lantern. From its most basic form of a five pointed star made of bamboo sticks and Japanese paper, the modern parol now graces a lot of Filipino homes abroad in elegant capiz shell designs. Each Gift Ko capiz parol is handcrafted by artisans in Pampanga, Philippines with skills passed on through generations. Each piece is unique and occasional scuffs and scratches on the hand-pounded capiz shell surface is normal. There may be also dents on the brass siding from hand-forming the lantern frame. All these imperfections lend to the character of each piece and do not detract from the beauty of the light display when the parol is lit. Gift Ko Handmade Nativity/Star Parol Christmas Lantern 24 inch Multicolored. Handmade parol (traditional Philippine star lantern), made in Pampanga by local artisans. Materials: Capiz shell, brass sheet. Size: Approximately 24 inch diameter, 3.5 inches thick. Features 6 Bulbs and 2 Winkers, 4 foot cord with 110 voltage and US standard plug. For indoor or covered outdoor use only. Store during high winds or extreme temperatures. GK NTVSTR18C 4237 – YouTube. The item "Gift Ko Handmade Nativity/Star Parol Christmas Lantern 24 inch Multicolored" is in sale since Saturday, October 27, 2018. This item is in the category "Home & Garden\Holiday & Seasonal Décor\Christmas & Winter\Lights". The seller is "giftko" and is located in Las Vegas, Nevada. This item can be shipped to United States.
Deck your halls, or any room for that matter, with this nine-foot Christmas tree. With hinged branch construction and a sturdy metal base, this fir Christmas tree sets up in a snap so that you get to the decoration stage faster. The built-in lights get your tree glowing as soon as it's set up. Fire-resistant and nonallergenic, this tree keeps your home safe and your family breathing easy during the holiday season. Colors/finish: Green with clear lights, green with multi-color lights Materials: PVC, wire, pole, thread, metal stand Quantity: One (1) Setting: Indoor Dimensions: 108 inches tall x 66 inches wide x 66 inches deep 4026 branch tips All-metal hinged construction (branches are attached to center pole sections) Fire-resistant and non-allergenic Assembly required. 9-foot Dunhill Fir Hinged Tree Green. Product Description: Deck your halls, or any room for that matter, with this nine-foot Christmas tree. Colors/finishGreen with clear lights, green with multi-color lights. MaterialsPVC, wire, pole, thread, metal stand. Dimensions108 inches tall x 66 inches wide x 66 inches deep. All-metal hinged construction (branches are attached to center pole sections). You may contact your states Department of Revenue for details on how to file this return. The item "9-foot Dunhill Fir Hinged Tree Green" is in sale since Thursday, January 10, 2019. This item is in the category "Home & Garden\Holiday & Seasonal Décor\Christmas & Winter\Artificial Christmas Trees". The seller is "overstock" and is located in US. This item can be shipped to United States.


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text:
Le Fur in line for $11.3M parachute
by Tracy Staton |
Feeling sorry for Gerard Le Fur? After all, he was squeezed out of the CEO seat at Sanofi-Aventis to clear the way for GlaxoSmithKline's Chris Viehbacher. This, after less than two years in the top job, but many, many years in the company ranks.
Well, you can hold your sympathy for now. According to Sanofi's regulatory filings, the board agreed in February to pay Le Fur a "termination benefit" of 24 months' pay. According to the Financial Times, that would amount to as much as $11.3 million--before stock options and other benefits. If the golden parachute doesn't include bonuses, though, that number could be reduced by almost $2 million. And if the board decides to call Le Fur's ouster as a "retirement," then he gets only 20 months' pay.
Sanofi is set to release the financial costs of its management shift, and a multimillion-dollar chute could meet with a backlash in France. CEO salaries there typically aren't nearly as large as those at U.S. companies. And golden parachutes in particular have drawn scrutiny, so much so that legislators have introduced a measure that would peg severance pay to company performance.
- read the Financial Times article
Tracy Staton
https://twitter.com/TracyStaton


I'm only on n+3 cars so might as well bump me up to 3 randoms please.
I've absolutely no need for it but it'ld make a nice present for my Dad, so I'll take a random please. As a newbie I may need further instructions on how to pay the £££.
Go on then, one random.
I'm already in two roffles a third one would be ridiculous!
How many do I have? If it's not three, make it three.
Number 30 for me please.
[quote name="Iamgroot" post="1654844" timestamp="1541709361"]I'm already in two roffles a third one would be ridiculous!
Ha ha imagine that almost as good as winning the lottery !!
Updated list- let me know if I've missed anything?
I'll go through the list later and double check everything.
No more roffles or I'll knife you in the gut with the tattie peeler, she said.
I hope both of us were lying.
I'll take a random please.
Looks lovely in those new pictures, they should hasten proceedings!
As the Tacuma finished early, I will buy Pandamonium a ticket for this instead Random please.
Good point, the Tacuma has ended early, I better take a second random then.
An S type (despite its underpinnings) would be a great car for pretending to be a modern day Inspector Morse, blasting out classical music in between pulling over for "pints of best" with your down trodden sidekick while remembering extracts of obscure texts that you read 30 years ago in "Eureka" moments before jumping in the car and kicking up gravel leaving the car park.
I only have you for the one ticket?
UPDATED LIST - I think I've got everyone down? It's hard going sorting a roffle out!
Last few tickets left now- sell out and paid up by Saturday?
I don't see my name (unless one of the ones for Pandamonium is the one I'm paying for - just don't forget to add me to the pm list when payment time comes).
40 and 49 if still available please!
Bung me an extra random too please, I'm really getting in to Jags.
I'll take a pair of randoms please.
I've put you both down for one if that's okay?
Sold out! Emails will be going out with payment details tomorrow.
Might be on for Wednesday then?