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Best free binary options indicator for 5 minutes trading binary options-... submitted by red-rose-love to binary_options [link] [comments]

Subreddit News, Tournaments, and some CCU Mythbusting

Greetings Warriors!
Now that the (green) smoke has settled from the Y4S2 and the CCU landing, we thought now would be a good time to do a quick subreddit news post, as there are a few things to catch you up on - before Y4S3 arrives and there is more news to take the sticky post slot!

Upcoming Tournaments

First up, there are a number of tournaments happening in the next few weeks. Slayscion Gaming are returning with 4v4 and 2v2 tournaments on PC, in EU and NA regions in the next few weeks! And if you didn’t get chance to watch the last 4s tournament, you can watch the VOD of The Arena’s cross region dominion tournament last weekend here. Remember to keep an eye on Battlefy.com for upcoming For Honor events! Ubisoft have announced that the PC Dominion Series will be starting up next season, so now is an excellent time to get into competitive tournament play, and practice for the big tournaments on the horizon!

New Mods

Next, I’d like to welcome two new mods to the team, u/SenpaiKaplan (SenKa) and u/DaniUsagi. I’m sure regular readers will recognise these two, as they are both frequent contributors to the sub, with many interesting tech posts between them. We’ve been seeing a big increase in viewers and posts since the CCU, and their help and expertise will be much appreciated! Please give them a warm welcome!

Poll Posts have been disabled

Since Reddit added the new Poll option on posts, we have seen a big influx of these posts, and unfortunately 90% of them have been very low effort, normally just a title and a binary choice, which we have had to remove. Adding a “no low-effort polls” clause to rule 6 hasn’t helped with that situation, so we have decided to disable the option entirely. If you do still want to do poll the readers here as part of a discussion post, or want to gather data to find opinions on a specific question, you are welcome to include links to external survey sites (like surveymonkey or google forms) in text posts - we are only trying to cut down on low-effort posts, not genuine use of poll for interesting content.

Info Hub Update

The Info Hub has been updated with all the changes from the CCU and the follow-up patches, including the 3 new executions, new punishes, balance information on each character, and an All Attack Properties sheet which allows you to compare attacks across the cast, and contains lots of data that doesn’t fit on the individual character sheets (like hit reactions for example). We are still in the process of revamping the General Info sheet, and an update to the Viability Tables is also in the works, now that there has been a decent amount of time since the CCU for the meta to stabilise. Also planned is addition of frame advantage sections on some moves for which it is particularly relevant.
If you spot any errors, outdated info, or have requests for information you’d like to see included in the hub, please let us know by commenting on the hub itself, messaging me or the mod team as a whole, or contacting one of us on discord.

Some CCU Mythbusting

Since the CCU update, I have seen a few persistent bits of misinformation floating about, and I’d like to take this opportunity to bust a few of these myths:
That’s all Warriors, thanks for reading, and see you on the battlefield!
submitted by The_Filthy_Spaniard to CompetitiveForHonor [link] [comments]

/r/reddevils 2020 Census Results

Thank you for taking part of the 2020 edition of /reddevils' census! We had 3,459 responses over the course of several days, and increase of .
Here are the results!
Age
With a year passing, it's understandable that our user base has also aged. What is interesting is that while last year 59.5% of the userbase indicated that they were 25 and younger, only 46.1% did so this year. Given that there was also a large increase in respondents for the "26-30" age group, it seems that we had a lot of 25 year old folks responding last year. Here is a chart showing the break out by age group and also an age distribution graph. I've included also a year-over-year comparison this year. These do not represent percent change but rather simple subtraction. For example, the 4.1% increase seen in the "26-30" age group comes from this year's "26-30" being 29.17% of this years census responses vs. only being 25.07% last year.
Conclusion? We're getting old folks.
Gender
As with every census we've run, /reddevils is overwhelmingly male. 96.2% of respondents indicated that they were male which translates to 3,328 out of the 3,459 responses. The number of ladies here increased greatly compared to last year with 72, up from 28 in 2019. 18 respondents declined to specify their gender while 41 responded with another gender.
Our resident Wookiees have increased in number to 3, up from 1 last year and in the 2012 census. 2 respondents responded as being Non-binary as well as 2 indicated that they were Olesexual. Each of the following received one response apiece: Coca Cola Can, Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II, Cube, Moderator, Divine Enlightened Energy Being, Two-Horned Rainbow Unicorn, Earthworm, Bisexual Leprechaun (who, surprisingly was not from Ireland but rather the Land Down Under), Absolute Chad, Anti-Virus, Attack Titan, Neymar, Ole-Wan Keaneobi, Parrot Lord, Frank Lampard, Optimus Prime, Potato, Slightly Under Ripe Kumquat, Gek (Geek?), Twin Engine Rafale Fighter Jet, Gender Is A Construct, Vulcan, Washing Machine, Wolfbrother, Juggernaut, Woolly Mammoth, Luke Shaw's Masculine Bottom, and Mail. There was also one respondent who deigned to use the "Other" option here to leave me a very rude message. Guess you can't please everyone.
Employment
Most of the reds are employed (75.3% across the Employed, Student Employed, and Self Employed categories), up from last years' 71.5%. Given the current state of the world, it is nice to see that most are still employed. Our student population has gone down, understadably, from 37.4% across the two student categories to 30.0%. A full breakdown of the year-over-year changes can be seen here. Our retirees increased in number from 1 last year to 11 this. Enjoy retirement sirs/madams.
Residence
As expected, the majority of /reddevils is UK or US based (25.85% and 25.93%, respectively). We have seen major changes this year, particularly in relation to Scandinavia, which saw the largest increase in percentage points year-over-year. I wonder what happened there.
If we're breaking it down by the regions I arbitrarily put into the census form, UK (England) is the clear winner for a second year running with 569 members reporting living in England and another 184 specifically saying they are in Manchester.
I received some feedback about covering large areas with a single region. This was largely driven by how few responses had come from these these regions historically. I'll include a few more next year but please do not expect me to list every one of the the 195 countries in the world. I've also received some feedback about not allowing any options for folks with family ties or had grown up in England/Manchester and had moved away. This will also be included in next years census.
Season TicketholdeMatches Attended
Overwhelmingly, most of us here are not season ticketholders (97.95%). We did see an increase in those who are, though it is fairly minor.
Most folks are unable to attend games as well. The number of fans who do go to many games (16+ per season) more than tripled from last year. You all are the real MVPs.
How long have you been following football/Manchester United?
Understandably, we don't have a whole lot of new fans. Interestingly enough though, we've had a large increase in folks who have started following football regularly in the last 1-3 years despite having followed United for longer than that. Putting on my tin foil hat, that at least makes me think we're more fun to watch these days.
How long have you been a subscriber to /reddevils and how do you usually access Reddit?
There are a lot of new-ish users with 63.6% reporting they have subscribed here for less than 3 years. We have a decent number of /reddevils veterans however, 154 users indicated that they had been subscribed for more than 8 years. It's good to see the old guard still around.
Unsurprisingly, Reddit apps are the most popular method to access Reddit by far. This is followed by Old Reddit users on Desktop, users of the Mobile Reddit website, and then New Reddit users coming in dead last. Long live old Reddit.
Favorite Current Player
The mood around this question was incredibly different than last year. Last year, many were vocal indicating that they had a hard time choosing due to our squad being shit. Victor Lindelof ended up being the by and large favorite with around a quarter of the votes, followed by Paul Pogba and Marcus Rashford.
This year, it appeared that there were no such issues. Only 1 response in the survey indicated that they couldn't choose because our squad was shit while the vast majority either selected a player or indicated that they loved them all. Prime Minister Doctor Sir Marcus Rashford overwhelmingly came in first place with an almost 300 vote lead over second placed Anthony Martial. Bruno Fernandes and Mason Greenwood were neck and neck for a while, eventually settling into third and fourth respectively.
Former crowd favorites Victor Lindelof and Paul Pogba fell down the rankings with Lindelof ending in 8th place and Pogba in 5th.
Favorite All Time Player
Wayne Rooney continued to the be the king of /reddevils amassing nearly double the votes of second placed Paul Scholes. Cristiano Ronaldo came in third after a very tight race with Scholes. Beckham came in fourth followed by fifth placed Cantona and sixth placed Giggsy.
Here is a year-over-year comparison purely on recorded responses. Most players received just about the same share of the votes as they did last year. The biggest changes came from Wayne Rooney (up) and David Beckham (down). The way the numbers land, it almost looks like Wazza was stealing votes from Becks! Ole Gunnar Solskjaer had more of the proverbial pie, again I wonder whats happened there.
My man Park Ji Sung came in 11th place, good to see that there are at least 58 Park lovers out there!
Now for a bit of fun. Someone asked in the Census thread how many of George Best's votes came from Northern Ireland. One user suggested it was all of them, the data on the other hand says otherwise. Only 10 of Best's 29 votes came from Northern Ireland. George Best tied for favorite player there with Wayne Rooney with Paul Scholes and Cristiano Ronaldo tying for 3rd place with 8 votes apiece.
I did this same exercise with a few other players. Here are the results:
  • While Scandinavians votes were joint-most for Ole Gunnar Solskjaer (tied with the UK), he was not the most popular player among respondents living in Scandinavia. He came in second behind Wayne Rooney.
  • Roy Keane both received the most votes from the Republic of Ireland and was also the most popular player among Irish respondents.
  • Eric Cantona was not voted heavily by the French. The British, on the other hand, love him with 82 of his 218 votes coming from the United Kingdom. The majority of Cantona voters are older, with 134/218 being over 30 years of age.
  • Park Ji Sung received the most votes from the US (21) followed by the UK (19) and Southeast Asia (4).
  • Among respondents from the United Kingdom, Wayne Rooney was the most popular followed by Scholes, Ronaldo, and Cantona.
  • Among respondents from the United States, South Asia, and Southeast Asia, Wayne Rooney was the most popular. Scholes and Ronaldo alternated in popularity in second and third place. Beckham placed fourth in all three regions.
Thank you all again for your participation. We'll run one next year and see how things have changed!
submitted by zSolaris to reddevils [link] [comments]

An introduction to Linux through Windows Subsystem for Linux

I'm working as an Undergraduate Learning Assistant and wrote this guide to help out students who were in the same boat I was in when I first took my university's intro to computer science course. It provides an overview of how to get started using Linux, guides you through setting up Windows Subsystem for Linux to run smoothly on Windows 10, and provides a very basic introduction to Linux. Students seemed to dig it, so I figured it'd help some people in here as well. I've never posted here before, so apologies if I'm unknowingly violating subreddit rules.

An introduction to Linux through Windows Subsystem for Linux

GitHub Pages link

Introduction and motivation

tl;dr skip to next section
So you're thinking of installing a Linux distribution, and are unsure where to start. Or you're an unfortunate soul using Windows 10 in CPSC 201. Either way, this guide is for you. In this section I'll give a very basic intro to some of options you've got at your disposal, and explain why I chose Windows Subsystem for Linux among them. All of these have plenty of documentation online so Google if in doubt.

Setting up WSL

So if you've read this far I've convinced you to use WSL. Let's get started with setting it up. The very basics are outlined in Microsoft's guide here, I'll be covering what they talk about and diving into some other stuff.

1. Installing WSL

Press the Windows key (henceforth Winkey) and type in PowerShell. Right-click the icon and select run as administrator. Next, paste in this command:
dism.exe /online /enable-feature /featurename:Microsoft-Windows-Subsystem-Linux /all /norestart 
Now you'll want to perform a hard shutdown on your computer. This can become unecessarily complicated because of Window's fast startup feature, but here we go. First try pressing the Winkey, clicking on the power icon, and selecting Shut Down while holding down the shift key. Let go of the shift key and the mouse, and let it shutdown. Great! Now open up Command Prompt and type in
wsl --help 
If you get a large text output, WSL has been successfully enabled on your machine. If nothing happens, your computer failed at performing a hard shutdown, in which case you can try the age-old technique of just holding down your computer's power button until the computer turns itself off. Make sure you don't have any unsaved documents open when you do this.

2. Installing Ubuntu

Great! Now that you've got WSL installed, let's download a Linux distro. Press the Winkey and type in Microsoft Store. Now use the store's search icon and type in Ubuntu. Ubuntu is a Debian-based Linux distribution, and seems to have the best integration with WSL, so that's what we'll be going for. If you want to be quirky, here are some other options. Once you type in Ubuntu three options should pop up: Ubuntu, Ubuntu 20.04 LTS, and Ubuntu 18.04 LTS.
![Windows Store](https://theshepord.github.io/intro-to-WSL/docs/images/winstore.png) Installing plain-old "Ubuntu" will mean the app updates whenever a new major Ubuntu distribution is released. The current version (as of 09/02/2020) is Ubuntu 20.04.1 LTS. The other two are older distributions of Ubuntu. For most use-cases, i.e. unless you're running some software that will break when upgrading, you'll want to pick the regular Ubuntu option. That's what I did.
Once that's done installing, again hit Winkey and open up Ubuntu. A console window should open up, asking you to wait a minute or two for files to de-compress and be stored on your PC. All future launches should take less than a second. It'll then prompt you to create a username and password. I'd recommend sticking to whatever your Windows username and password is so that you don't have to juggle around two different usepassword combinations, but up to you.
Finally, to upgrade all your packages, type in
sudo apt-get update 
And then
sudo apt-get upgrade 
apt-get is the Ubuntu package manager, this is what you'll be using to install additional programs on WSL.

3. Making things nice and crispy: an introduction to UNIX-based filesystems

tl;dr skip to the next section
The two above steps are technically all you need for running WSL on your system. However, you may notice that whenever you open up the Ubuntu app your current folder seems to be completely random. If you type in pwd (for Print Working Directory, 'directory' is synonymous with 'folder') inside Ubuntu and hit enter, you'll likely get some output akin to /home/. Where is this folder? Is it my home folder? Type in ls (for LiSt) to see what files are in this folder. Probably you won't get any output, because surprise surprise this folder is not your Windows home folder and is in fact empty (okay it's actually not empty, which we'll see in a bit. If you type in ls -a, a for All, you'll see other files but notice they have a period in front of them. This is a convention for specifying files that should be hidden by default, and ls, as well as most other commands, will honor this convention. Anyways).
So where is my Windows home folder? Is WSL completely separate from Windows? Nope! This is Windows Subsystem for Linux after all. Notice how, when you typed pwd earlier, the address you got was /home/. Notice that forward-slash right before home. That forward-slash indicates the root directory (not to be confused with the /root directory), which is the directory at the top of the directory hierarchy and contains all other directories in your system. So if we type ls /, you'll see what are the top-most directories in your system. Okay, great. They have a bunch of seemingly random names. Except, shocker, they aren't random. I've provided a quick run-down in Appendix A.
For now, though, we'll focus on /mnt, which stands for mount. This is where your C drive, which contains all your Windows stuff, is mounted. So if you type ls /mnt/c, you'll begin to notice some familiar folders. Type in ls /mnt/c/Users, and voilà, there's your Windows home folder. Remember this filepath, /mnt/c/Users/. When we open up Ubuntu, we don't want it tossing us in this random /home/ directory, we want our Windows home folder. Let's change that!

4. Changing your default home folder

Type in sudo vim /etc/passwd. You'll likely be prompted for your Ubuntu's password. sudo is a command that gives you root privileges in bash (akin to Windows's right-click then selecting 'Run as administrator'). vim is a command-line text-editing tool, which out-of-the-box functions kind of like a crummy Notepad (you can customize it infinitely though, and some people have insane vim setups. Appendix B has more info). /etc/passwd is a plaintext file that historically was used to store passwords back when encryption wasn't a big deal, but now instead stores essential user info used every time you open up WSL.
Anyway, once you've typed that in, your shell should look something like this: ![vim /etc/passwd](https://theshepord.github.io/intro-to-WSL/docs/images/vim-etc-passwd.png)
Using arrow-keys, find the entry that begins with your Ubuntu username. It should be towards the bottom of the file. In my case, the line looks like
theshep:x:1000:1000:,,,:/home/pizzatron3000:/bin/bash 
See that cringy, crummy /home/pizzatron3000? Not only do I regret that username to this day, it's also not where we want our home directory. Let's change that! Press i to initiate vim's -- INSERT -- mode. Use arrow-keys to navigate to that section, and delete /home/ by holding down backspace. Remember that filepath I asked you to remember? /mnt/c/Users/. Type that in. For me, the line now looks like
theshep:x:1000:1000:,,,:/mnt/c/Users/lucas:/bin/bash 
Next, press esc to exit insert mode, then type in the following:
:wq 
The : tells vim you're inputting a command, w means write, and q means quit. If you've screwed up any of the above sections, you can also type in :q! to exit vim without saving the file. Just remember to exit insert mode by pressing esc before inputting commands, else you'll instead be writing to the file.
Great! If you now open up a new terminal and type in pwd, you should be in your Window's home folder! However, things seem to be lacking their usual color...

5. Importing your configuration files into the new home directory

Your home folder contains all your Ubuntu and bash configuration files. However, since we just changed the home folder to your Window's home folder, we've lost these configuration files. Let's bring them back! These configuration files are hidden inside /home/, and they all start with a . in front of the filename. So let's copy them over into your new home directory! Type in the following:
cp -r /home//. ~ 
cp stands for CoPy, -r stands for recursive (i.e. descend into directories), the . at the end is cp-specific syntax that lets it copy anything, including hidden files, and the ~ is a quick way of writing your home directory's filepath (which would be /mnt/c/Users/) without having to type all that in again. Once you've run this, all your configuration files should now be present in your new home directory. Configuration files like .bashrc, .profile, and .bash_profile essentially provide commands that are run whenever you open a new shell. So now, if you open a new shell, everything should be working normally. Amazing. We're done!

6. Tips & tricks

Here are two handy commands you can add to your .profile file. Run vim ~/.profile, then, type these in at the top of the .profile file, one per line, using the commands we discussed previously (i to enter insert mode, esc to exit insert mode, :wq to save and quit).
alias rm='rm -i' makes it so that the rm command will always ask for confirmation when you're deleting a file. rm, for ReMove, is like a Windows delete except literally permanent and you will lose that data for good, so it's nice to have this extra safeguard. You can type rm -f to bypass. Linux can be super powerful, but with great power comes great responsibility. NEVER NEVER NEVER type in rm -rf /, this is saying 'delete literally everything and don't ask for confirmation', your computer will die. Newer versions of rm fail when you type this in, but don't push your luck. You've been warned. Be careful.
export DISPLAY=:0 if you install XLaunch VcXsrv, this line allows you to open graphical interfaces through Ubuntu. The export sets the environment variable DISPLAY, and the :0 tells Ubuntu that it should use the localhost display.

Appendix A: brief intro to top-level UNIX directories

tl;dr only mess with /mnt, /home, and maybe maybe /usr. Don't touch anything else.
  • bin: binaries, contains Ubuntu binary (aka executable) files that are used in bash. Here you'll find the binaries that execute commands like ls and pwd. Similar to /usbin, but bin gets loaded earlier in the booting process so it contains the most important commands.
  • boot: contains information for operating system booting. Empty in WSL, because WSL isn't an operating system.
  • dev: devices, provides files that allow Ubuntu to communicate with I/O devices. One useful file here is /dev/null, which is basically an information black hole that automatically deletes any data you pass it.
  • etc: no idea why it's called etc, but it contains system-wide configuration files
  • home: equivalent to Window's C:/Users folder, contains home folders for the different users. In an Ubuntu system, under /home/ you'd find the Documents folder, Downloads folder, etc.
  • lib: libraries used by the system
  • lib64 64-bit libraries used by the system
  • mnt: mount, where your drives are located
  • opt: third-party applications that (usually) don't have any dependencies outside the scope of their own package
  • proc: process information, contains runtime information about your system (e.g. memory, mounted devices, hardware configurations, etc)
  • run: directory for programs to store runtime information.
  • srv: server folder, holds data to be served in protocols like ftp, www, cvs, and others
  • sys: system, provides information about different I/O devices to the Linux Kernel. If dev files allows you to access I/O devices, sys files tells you information about these devices.
  • tmp: temporary, these are system runtime files that are (in most Linux distros) cleared out after every reboot. It's also sort of deprecated for security reasons, and programs will generally prefer to use run.
  • usr: contains additional UNIX commands, header files for compiling C programs, among other things. Kind of like bin but for less important programs. Most of everything you install using apt-get ends up here.
  • var: variable, contains variable data such as logs, databases, e-mail etc, but that persist across different boots.
Also keep in mind that all of this is just convention. No Linux distribution needs to follow this file structure, and in fact almost all will deviate from what I just described. Hell, you could make your own Linux fork where /mnt/c information is stored in tmp.

Appendix B: random resources

EDIT: implemented various changes suggested in the comments. Thanks all!
submitted by HeavenBuilder to linux4noobs [link] [comments]

OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – ESCAPE FROM STALAG SULTANATE, Part 1

That reminds me of a story.
“HELLFIRE AND DALMATIANS!” I shouted to no one in particular.
“What’s the problem, dear?” Esme asks in that way she has of telling me to calm down without having to say it directly.
“This bloody fucking country. A day late and several dollars short.” I fume. “Can’t get a new liquor license because of the bloody COVID. Can’t go to a hotel bar and have a snort because of the bloody COVID. Can’t even slip across the border to Dubai and soak up some room service and buckets of complimentary cocktails because of the bloody COVID.”
Yes, the Sultanate of Oman, in its infinitesimal wisdom, has traditionally followed other GCC countries by at least three months in making any sort of proclamations regarding this latest bugaboo: the hideous, deadly, itchy, loathsome, and possibly serially bent, noxious, pandemical COVID-19; aka, this pandemic’s entry for flu.
Their response is one of immense knee-jerk without first having thought of the consequences.
“Bloody lockdown, 2100 to 0700. What is this, the whole fucking country’s been bad and now being sent to bed without any supper?” I wondered aloud. “Idiot benchodes.”
Even Esme couldn’t come up with a rejoinder to that.
“Plus they close all the bars. And all the hotels. And the fucking bottle shops. It’s not enough that these fucking Muppets jack the ‘sin tax’ on booze and cigars by 100%, now they’re not even legally available.” I swore.
Of course, once you’ve spent even a small portion of the time that I have in the Middle East, you have your connections. Your system. Your access to the seedy underbelly of any society; the venerable Black Market.
Jesus Q. Christ on toast with baked beans, fried tomatoes, black pudding, and mushrooms, I could get most anything in the Middle East, be it legal, shady, or just plain illegal. However, before you all recoil in horror that the venerable Dr. Rocknocker dabbles in the prohibited, just remember: the ends always dojustify the means.
“I'm telling you, Esme dear; this Gulf story is getting too complicated. The weasels have started closing in.” I complain to Es as she hands me a fresh drink.
“Do you think…?” Esme asks expectantly.
Esme is more than ready to go. I’ve used this place as a base of operations for years whilst I wear out the Omani legal system suing those asswipes that think just because they’re local and I’m a kafir, they’re immune to the law.
I’ve spent a long, profitable and time-consuming period of the last few years proving them wrong.
But, time was marching onwards. I agreed with Esme, we’ve milked this particular cash cow dry. It was time to hitch up our bootstraps, call it a day, and get the hell out of Dodge.
But not before I took care of a few loose ends.
Now, the country had recently lost its venerable Sultan, who croaked back in January of this year.
Sultan Qaboos was a good egg, friend to expat and local alike. Did a shitload of good for this benighted Middle East sandpit. Dragged it kicking and screaming out of the 12th century into, well, not exactly the 21st, but a whole hell of a lot closer.
He realized that he needed revolutionary, not evolutionary change in the country. By revolutionary, he needed American, British, Canadian, and the like Western Expats here to do the heavy thinking and lifting and Eastern Expats like Indians, Bangladeshis and Nepalese to do all the scut work.
Yeah, I know. That sounds racist as fuck, but sometimes that’s the way the ball bounced.
Simple evolution of society where Omanis graduated the local equivalent of grade school, through high school, into University, and finally into Entry level jobs in the oil and gas industry wasn’t going to cut it. Took too long and the country needed a serious cash flow now.
So, that’s what he did. And it worked a treat.
Then he died.
And his chosen took over.
Except his chosen was pretty much antithetical to everything the previous and very revered and successful, Sultan wanted.
Soon, there are 100% ‘sin taxes’ aimed directly at the western expats. Tourists included.
Then there’s quotas and ‘Letters of No Objection’, which are impossible to get so that the Eastern Expats can’t switch jobs.
Then, there are Sultanic proclamations of new taxes on tourists, new taxes on fast food, new taxes on this, that and the other. Then there’s, in his own words, “Oman is for Omanis”, blatantly ridiculous and xenophobic Omanization, and the general swipe at all expats.
“GET OUT.”
This was the clear message of the new sultan.
He wanted to take over and possibly nationalize all the oil workings in the country.
Ask Venezuela, Iran, and Myanmar how well that worked out for them.
Then he wants all expats out on their asses. He wants Omanis to take over all the jobs, even though they’re nowhere near educated nor experienced enough for the positions. Then take up the massive GDP slack in lower oil production and oil prices with tourism.
Given everything else, that last line should be enough to get him off the throne.
He’s fucking nuts if he thinks people are going to want to cruise or overland anywhere near a place where foreigners are seen only as a cash supply, are despised, and would welcome these all new 100% tax levies.
Be that as it may, Esme and I decided that we have had enough of 135O F summer temperatures, virtual house arrest under the guise of a COVID lockdown, and idiots who were the only ones stupid or twisted enough not to vamoose when the great, big bloody letters were clearly written on the wall.
But, there was the physical act of getting out of the country.
Now, I had plenty of strings which I could pull, but I decided I’d start low and save those until we really needed them.
So low, in fact, we went to the US Embassy in Muscat.
“How low can you go?” reverberated through my head.
What a haven of sad-sacks, flubadubs, and third rate hobbyists.
Was either Esme or I surprised that when we finally secured an invitation to the embassy, that required a bit of string-pulling with the ex-Ambassador to Oman, now in Kabul; that besides the peach-fuzz faced Marine guarding the place, we were the only Americans in the joint?
“This is American soil!” I laughed, as I pulled out a huge Cuban cigar and was immediately told to extinguish it. “We’re as American as apple pie and napalm! We file our fucking 1040s every April; I pay my fucking long-distance taxes and demand US assistance to vacate this gloomy place of sandy, sweaty, sultry Sturm und Drang!”
“Shut up, Rock”, Esme chided me, “They don’t understand English. Much less, the florid English the way you trowel it on.”
“Fuckbuckets”, I remonstrated. “Here I had memorized the whole Patrick Henry speech he made to the Second Virginia Convention on March 23, 1775, at St. John's Church in Richmond, Virginia. Troglodytes. No admiration for the classics.”
“Rock, dear?” Esme noted, “It’s almost 1100 hours. Best to get to our appointment.”
True, our appointment was slated for 1100 hours. But around here, anything starting within three hours of the stated time was considered close enough.
We dragged ourselves, none too cheerfully, to the waiting room. Once we pried open the door, there was the usual “If you hear a high pitched wail, hit the deck” signs, and other things one could do while kissing one’s ass goodbye if there was a terrorist attack, we had a whole new slew of bullshit with which to deal.
“Social distancing. 6 feet. Or if you’re from Baja Canada, 1 cow’s length.”
“Must wear a mask. Bandanna, bandoliers, and large-caliber weapons or sombrero optional.”
“No sitting. Faux Naugahyde seats are too difficult to sterilize. You must stand at attention, do not talk amongst yourselves, and remain patient until your number is called.”
“Well, fuck!”, I snorted quietly, as I raised my first secret flask in rapt attention to our old glory of red, white, and blue.
“Good thing they didn’t say nothin’ about getting a load on. If I’m going to be treated like cattle, I’m going to at least have something to chew on in the process.”
“Oh, lord”, Esme grumbled, “You didn’t bring that Japanese Rye Whiskey with you, did you?”
“ルハイム”, I said, which is Japanese for “L’chaim”!
“Oh, hell”, Esme grinned as she borrowed my flask, “This is going to be a long day.”
I began to protest but remembered that I was wearing my Agency-issued field vest. I must have had at least 5 or 6 more flasks lurking around in those pockets somewhere.
Funny aside: they don’t bother with my going through an X-ray machine nor do they confiscate my phone, radio, knives, nor other field equipment when I go to the US Embassy.
It took them almost two solid hours last time, and by the time they got to my Brunton Compass, emergency flasks, a few spare blasting cap boosters, and saw the label sewn into the back of my vest, they decided they’d just send Rack and Ruin some evil Emails and let me pass unmolested.
“I’ll drink to that”, I say as I raise a flask as the locals raise an eyebrow. “Courtesy of Atheists International. We’re here for your children…”
The collective gasps and growls indicate they weren’t happy with me or my betrothed.
“Don’t care, Buckwheat”, I smiled, “Never did, never will. We’re out of here for good. You can curse my name all you want then. But, then again, why you standing in the American Embassy trying to get a visa to visit the land of the great evil empire?”
All the locals and most of the Eastern Expats crowded into a corner as far away from us as they physically could.
“BOO!” I snickered over a shot of Wild Turkey 101 Rye.
“Now serving number 58! Number 58!” came the call over the tannoy.
“Look at that”, I remarked to Es as I stashed both our flasks, “It’s only 12:35. Record time.”
We both shimmy into the glass-fronted and presumably bullet- but not C-4 resistant- glass.
We pick up the telephones there and acknowledge that we are who we said we were.
The East Indian fella, one Harsh Talavalakar, behind the multiple layers of glass asked us why we were here.
“Didn’t you read the appointment card?” I asked, “We’re here to have Uncle Sam get us passage out of this sordid and sultry place.”
“You are American citizens?” he asked, vacantly.
“That’s what it says on appointment cards and these here blue passports,” I replied.
“Well, how was I to know?” he scoffed, returning to his half-consumed powdered sugar doughnut.
“Maybe read the appointment card and see that we are US Citizens here on the behest of Ambassador Bethesda Orun?” I replied.
“Like I have time to read everything that comes across my desk”, he scoffed again.
I tapped on the glass to make certain I had his full attention.
“Look here, Herr Harsh. I’m not sure how you got this job at the American Consulate but want to be very clear with you. My wife and I are residents of this place for the last 20 years. We’re American citizens of very high standing and have more high powered connections than an Arduino in a nuclear power station. We have direct connections with Langley, Virginia and if you want to retain your cushy job, you’ll put down that fucking doughnut and pay very rapt attention to the two Americans standing here who are getting more and more irritated with some Indian benchode that doesn’t think he has to really do his job. You savvy? You diggin’ me, Beaumont
I guess the benchode got his attention. The two scowls he received from Esme and myself sort of cemented the idea that we’re not too pleased and not with to be trifled.
“Yes, sir?” he said, “And ma’am”, as Harsh quickly corrected himself as the doughnut disappeared.
“We want out. Gone. Vamoose. Outta here. AMF. You got me?” he nods behind the shatterprone glass.
“Now I know the borders are sealed and the airport’s closed, but fuck that. We want out and we want gone for good. I can’t make that much simpler or clearer. Get after it, son.” I said, as seriously as I could.
“Well, sir”, he began, “ The airport’s closed…”
“Are you deaf or born stupid and been losing ground ever since?” I asked, rhetorically. “I know that. We all know that. My HAT knows that. So, what devious little plan does the US Embassy have in store in just such an unsavory situation?”
“Well”, he chokes a bit, “There’s this unofficial lottery where America citizens are issued random numbers and if their number comes up, there are seats made available on special clandestine charter flights.”
Considering that Es and I are some of the last American citizens left in the country, I thought our chances might be pretty good.
“OK”, I said, “Let us have two of your finest numbers.”
“Yes, sir”, he said, “That will be US$500 total.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Oh, yes”, he smirked, “US$250 per number. Chances are you’ll never be called, but with these numbers, at least you stand a chance.”
“OK”, I said, “Forget the numbers. I want your name and operating number. I’ve got a report to file that’s due in Virginia before breakfast.”
“Oh, sir”, he smirked more, “I cannot release that information. Thanking you. Now be having a good day.” And he slammed the supposedly bulletproof shield between himself and Es and me.
“Bulletproof? Maybe. Nitro proof? No fucking way.” I groused as I fished out a couple of blasting cap superfast boosters.
“Calm down, dear”, Esme smiled to me as we walked out, “When he wasn’t looking, I took his picture, got his operating number, and full name. In fact, I think I got some information on where he lives…”
In the cab on the way back to our villa, I reviewed and confirmed Es’s subterfuge. Flasks number 6 and 8 needed serious replenishment by the time we arrived home.
“That’s fucking right, Ruin.” I yelled over the phone, “We need extraction. And now. Along with our personal effects and a few hundredweight of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ boxes of stuff we need to be transported.”
“Well, Rock”, Agent Ruin replied, “That’s a tall order. Usually, extraction is for one person and the stuff they’re wearing. Tell you what. Let Rack and I work on it for a week or so. We’ll arrange transport of your personal effects, then we’ll see about getting you and Esme to Dubai. At least there, you can order a plane. Hell, knowing you, you’ll get Tony Stark to fly in and provide door to door service. Sit tight. We’ll be back in touch.”
“Good!” I say as I slam the phone down. With these newfangled cellphone telephone instruments, they lack the same sort of satisfying “KER FUCKING CLANG” the old landlines used to have.
“Es!”, I yelled, “Start packing. We’re due out of here within a week.”
That meant we needed to do some packing triage:
• Things going home with us.
• Things being shipped.
• Things being sold.
• Things being left behind.
• Things no one was about to get their furry little mitts on.
“Oh, fuck!”, I startled. I had just remembered the John Wick-ian stash of various explosives, and adjunct materials I had buried in the basement. Obviously, I couldn’t take it home with me, I couldn’t sell it, and I sure as festering frothing fuck wasn’t going to leave it here.
I needed to call one of my more shifty and swarthy friends and arrange for passage out to the deep, dark desert. Around the area where the new sultan had opened a couple of brand new landfills.
Looks like I was going to expand them a few meters once we disposed of the few hundred kilos of accumulation I attained over the last few years.
See, I’m a packrat. I never leave nor toss anything that might be convenient. Might have a benefit. Might prove to be useful sometime down the line.
So, I’ve accumulated a bit of kit.
Like…well…a few hundred sticks of Du Pont 60% Extra Fast Dynamite. A couple dozen spools of Z-4 Primacord, in various degrees of fullness. A shitload of C-4; enough bricks for a Floydian wall. A couple, well, a dozen, well, two dozen cases of binary liquid explosives. Hey, this stuff is hard to come by…
Continuing, several thousand blasting caps and superfast flash blasting cap boosters. Some mercury fulminate. Some nitrogen triiodide. A couple tens of pounds of PETN. An equal amount of RDX. A few Erlenmeyer flasks full of shit even I’m not certain of what it is…
Oh.
And a few kilos of freshly decanted, raw nitroglycerin; packed in sturdy wooden boxes lined with new fuzzy lamb’s wool.
Not that much. Just 10 or 12 kilos.
Yeah. I can’t leave that here. Even a small accident with this stuff would lay waste to not only our villa; but my landlord’s villa with whom we share a common wall.
Besides, as Omanis go, my landlord was the only dishdasha dressed denizen for which I had any respect or admiration. He was a good guy. I needed to return his villa at least in some semblance of what I received when we first rented from him.
So, I had to dispose of many, many billions of kilojoules of potential energy. I needed to do this out in a distant and far away from prying ears and eyes regions and I needed a truck to haul this stuff out to the range.
To be continued…
submitted by Rocknocker to Rocknocker [link] [comments]

I created a mathematically optimal team generator!

Hi all,

I've been playing FPL for a few years now, and by no means am I an expert. However, I like math and particularly optimization problems. And a few days ago I thought to use my math knowledge for something useful.

My goal was to start from some metric that predicts the amount of points a player will score (either in the next gameweek, or over the whole season). From that metric, I wanted to generate the mathematically optimal team, aka choose the 15 players that will give me the most points, while staying within budget. I realized this is a constrained knapsack problem, which can be solved by dedicated solvers as long as the optimization problem is properly defined. Note that while I make a big assumption by choosing some metric from which I start, the solver actually finds the most optimal team, without any prior assumptions about best formation, budget spread, etc!

(Warning: from this point onward it gets kinda math-y, so turn back or skip ahead to the results if that's not your thing)

MATH

So first, the optimization variable needed to be defined. For this purpose I introduced a binary variable x which is basically a vector of all players in the game, where a value of 1 indicates that player is part of our dream team and a 0 means it's not.

Secondly, an objective function needs to be defined, which is what we want to maximize. In our case, this is the total expected points our dreamteam will score. I included double captain points and reduced points for bench players here. The objective function is linear, which is nice since it is convex (an important property which makes solving the problem much easier, and is even required for most solvers).

Lastly are the constraints. Obviously, there is the 100M budget constraint. Then we also want the required amount of goalkeepers, defenders, midfielders and forwards. Then we need to keep in mind the formation constraints, and lastly are the max 3 players per club constraints. Luckily, these are all linear (so convex) constraints.

I solved this problem using CVX for MATLAB, particularly with the Gurobi solver since it allows mixed integer programs. It tries to find the optimal variable x* which maximizes the objective function while staying within the constraints. And amazingly, it actually comes up with solutions!

RESULTS
So like I said before, I need to start from some metric that indicates how many points a player will score (if you have any recommendations, let me know!). For a lack of better options, I chose two different metrics:

  1. The total points scored by the player last year
  2. The expected points scored by the player in the next gameweek (ep_next in the FPL API, for fellow nerds)

Obviously, both metrics are not perfect. The first one doesn't take into account transfers, promoted teams, injuries, fixtures, position changes etc. However, it should work decent for making a set-and-forget team with proven PL players.

The second metric seems to have a problem with overrating bench players of top PL teams such as Ozil, Minamino, etc. I'm not really sure why, but it's a metric taken directly from FPL with undisclosed underlying math so it's not my problem. Also, keep in mind that since the first gameweek does not feature City/Utd/Burnley/Villa players, this metric predicts them to score 0 points so they won't feature in the optimal team.

Team 1: Last year's dreamteam
Bench:

Team 2: Next week's dreamteam
Bench:

Both teams cost exactly 100M.

At first glance, there are some obvious flaws with both teams, but most of them are because the metric used as input is flawed, as I explained before. Lundstram is obviously a much worse choice this year due to various reasons, and Team 2 has some top 6 players which are very much not nailed.

However. What I think is interesting is that both teams have only 2 starting midfielders. This despite the trend of people stacking premium midfielders. On the other hand, premium defenders seem to be very good value, and the importance of TAA and Robertson is underlined. Similarly, near-premium forwards in the 7.5-10 price range seem to be a good choice.

CONCLUSION
I'm quite content with my optimal team generator. Using it, I don't need to use vague value metrics such as VAPM. The input can be any metric which relates simply to how many points a player will score. Choices about relative value of e.g. defenders against midfielders, formation, budget spread etc. are all taken out of my hands with this team generator. The team that is generated is only as good as the metric used as input. But given a certain input metric, you can be sure that the generated team is optimal.

I would gladly share my MATLAB code if there is any interest. Also, I'm open to suggestions on how to extend it. EDIT: Here it is.


(Tiny disclaimer: Remember when I said: "without any prior assumptions"? That is a lie. There is one tiny assumption I made, which is how often bench players are subbed on. I guesstimated this to happen approximately 10% of the time.)
submitted by nectri42 to FantasyPL [link] [comments]

[Serial][UWDFF Alcubierre] Part 54

Beginning | Previous
Premier Valast felt a tingle. It began at the base of his spine and traveled moved upward, sending warm fuzzy feelings all throughout his body as it made its way to his brain and inserted itself in his conscious thoughts. After all of the misery. After all of the failures. For once, something had gone right.
How delightful. How extravagant. How deserved.
The Humans had made a mistake. Clearly, they had thought to expand upon their treachery, believing themselves to be invincible. Their monstrosity of a vessel had appeared just as their last one had, within Halcyon's inner perimeter. After their ruse of parlay, their beast had commenced belching out weapons of mass destruction, clearly in an attempt to retrieve the encryption key and the elite assassin-thief they had dispatched under the guise of a Witness.
They thought Halcyon weak. Defenseless.
Not true! Not true at all!
Kinetics. Valast laughed aloud, his rib cage heaving out great guffaws. Accelerated mass! More laughter. The savages thought to bring such inelegance against the might of the Combine? They mistook their prior fortune for competence. Their one-time success for future capability. Alas, poor Humans, the truth of your inadequacies is made manifest! The brief gap in the defenses brought on by the improbable chain of events that had resulted in their arrival had been filled. For all of their destructive potential, their weapons were useless.
Valast continued to cackle, his hindclaws scrunching up the soft material of his pillow, as he watched the Humans receive their punishment for their insolence. The Humans had made assumptions. Perhaps assumptions were fine in their backwater corner of the galaxy, but here, among civilization, assumptions could be quite dangerous indeed. It was quite unwise to assume Halcyon would leave the inner perimeter exposed. They must have thought their Evangi co-conspirators would leave the gates open for them, as the traitor Neeria had done when she had given them access to a Combine wormkey in the first place. Sadly for the Humans, their four-armed friends had been exposed for what they were. A great many of the Evangi now lay motionless on the floor of a Halcyon mainway, a fitting end to their perfidy.
Halcyon had stood since the beginning, and it would continue to stand long after the Human infestation had been expunged from the Combine Space. Perhaps the Humans should have spent more time pondering the nature of the place before they had meddled with forces they clearly did not understand. Halcyon existed in defiance of the chaotic nature of the neutron star it orbited. Its survival required an solution to the objects such a gravity well attracted. Halcyon had many such solutions, weaved together to maintain a delicate balance. Among them were the inertial dampeners.
The screen in Valast's paws bloomed with colors, indicating firings of Halcyon's inertial dampeners. Each blossom of color was an attempt by the Humans to deploy weapons in clear violation War Accords, cementing Humanity's position as a menace to decent civilization. Had Valast not commanded Bo'Bakka'Gah to take the necessary precautions, the devastation would have been significant.
Lines of crimson sailed through the blooms of color.
Valast's whiskers twitched, his eyes squinting as it tracked one of these lines.
The solution was not perfect. The intertial dampeners in close proximity to Halcyon were a final precaution, and their purpose was narrow. They were a fine net, meant to indiscriminately capture any residual high-speed astral particulate that had escaped the outer defenses. Their efficacy diminished at an exponential rate in proportion to the size and mass of the object they acted upon. Thus far, they had been quite successful at preventing the Humans from making use of their weapons, but dampeners had no effect on the Human vessels. Even if the dampeners could be used for such a purpose, their indiscriminate nature would have required the cessation of all space born travel within Halcyon, an unacceptable disruption to the workings of the Combine's capitol.
The Humans' small spherical vessels were thus capable of traveling unimpeded throughout Halcyon space, tracing their crimson lines behind them as they did so. Such a thing did not overly worry Valast. They could not fire their weapons, and they were susceptible to electromagnetic disruption, rendering them easy targets for the Peacekeepers. Were Valast not otherwise consumed with the affairs of state, he would perhaps take to the front line and dispatch a few himself. Sadly, his bravery would find no opportunity for direct expression beyond the valor found in the privilege of command competently exercised.
The whiskers ceased their twitching and some cheer returned. It would not be long before the meddlesome Human spheres were swatted from the sky and the encryption key recovered.
Then they would dispatch the Human warship.
Then Humanity.
He need only wait.
-----------
"Get spread. Get small." Sana called out. Had to buy time. Had to get a handle on the situation. Not her first rodeo, but it was the first time where she had no idea what the hell she was riding. Maybe the aliens were riding her. Maybe it wasn't a rodeo, maybe it was just a slaughter.
That was the problem. No one knew anything.
The callsigns in her local were dropping like flies. Squaddies getting wiped without so much as a peep. The eggs in Science were saying EMPs, but the balls were supposed to be fixed against that frakkery. Sensors said the balls were still there even after they went dead, so maybe they were right. Couldn't think about that now.
Couldn't think about anything but the mission.
Captain Sana Bushida had a shit-shuttle to bring to station.
She needed to get from A to B. Normally the quickest point-to-point was a line, but the baddies were coming in from all sides. Trying to corral her in. So be it. She could handle a long and squiggly with the juice she had in the four balls attached to the cockpit. Only question was how long they'd be up for. Whatever they were using on the balls wasn't touching her. She was good, but she wasn't that good.
Guess they wanted her kicking and screaming.
Predators, not scavengers then.
Frakk 'em. Right in their stupid alien faces.
Sana's brain shunted command signals as fast as her eyes to parse the readouts in her pilot pod. Dodging. Weaving. Diving. Dipping. Half those words didn't even apply to space, but they felt right. Float like a butterfly, run like cheetah on amphetos. She'd sting 'em later.
Run run run, fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the shit-shuttle can.
Swipe. Swipe.
Two smaller ships moved in a pincer formation, one cutting off her angle around the larger ship she was skimming around. Sana let out a giggle, as she shoved the shuttle in another direction. "You thought you had me, crapdonkey? You never had me. You're gonna be seeing my ass all day." The giggle somehow transformed into a roar halfway through as a third ship appeared in her view, coming out from its hiding place on the other side of the large ship. "SCREW YOU!" They weren't going to win. Losing wasn't an option.
Swipe.
Patterns emerged as the ballet played out. Certain ships were the herders. The small annoying frakks that always seemed to be moving around her flanks. Other ships were the receivers. They were the big boys. The ones who just floated there like giant shits in space. Lazy frakks just waiting to be fed some shit-shuttle. Fine then. New info. New tactics. New rule: Get around the herders, never get closer to the receivers.
Herders bad.
Receivers bad-der-er.
As long as she was a step ahead of the herders and two steps away from the receivers, she'd be fine. Problem was they were more agile than her. Problem was there was more of them. Problem was the friendly callsigns on her readouts kept disappearing. Problem was that she was stuck in here instead of out there where she belonged.
Ninety-nine problems...
Swipe. Swipe.
All she needed was a line of sight. A place where she could get a whiff of open space and just gun it. Navigate the maze. Get through it. Light at the end of the tunnel. Glass is half full.
Metaphor.
Analogy.
Idiom.
The stream of consciousness flowed out of her, expressing itself in her verbiage and in the desperately navigating shuttle some distance away. Step forward. No steps backward. Okay, maybe one step backward, but it'll be okay. She'd take the step forward soon enough.
Just...needed...a...line.
Alpha, Beta, Charlie, and Delta was gone.
It was just her.
Swipe. Swipe.
The fate of the world.
The shit-shuttle must survive.
Swipe. Swipe.
The gap opened.
She saw it.
They didn't.
"There it is bitches!"
All four balls slammed the thrusters on. It wasn't a direct bee line to the Oppenheimer but it was good enough. She just needed to get out of the hornet's nest and into open space so she could keep pouring on the acceleration. She didn't know how much juice the herders had, but it was all she had going for her at this point.
Bitter bile rose up in her throat as the shit-shuttle surged forward, leaving A through D behind. Her squaddies. Her friends.
Abandoned.
She should be out there.
She could be. She just needed to get the mission done. She was so close. She was putting distance between her and the baddies. Just a few more minutes...the link cut off.
Her thoughts were shunting into a wall.
She swiped, her eyes scanning the readouts.
Alcubierre - Shuttle - Cockpit (Ejection)(DISTRESS) no longer appeared.
For once, Sana was speechless.
---------------------
Kai retched air.
There was nothing else to throw up at this point. He'd given everything he had to give, and it was now floating about the cockpit in a viscous cloud. He was fairly certain Neeria was collateral damage in the matter. If she were ever to regain consciousness, she'd find she had been provided with a fresh coat of puke paint. At this point, being blind was something of a boon. Congratulations were owed to the sadist in the pilot's seat though, he hadn't emptied his stomach like this since flight sims.
He'd raise his hand in salute if it weren't for the incredible g-force shifts whipping him around like a rag doll as the pilot attempted to avoid whatever was out there. Some of the maneuvers seemed impossibly complex, as if the cockpit was navigating through an impassable morass of enemies. Or perhaps the pilot was just drunk. Either seemed possible.
The whipsawing continued. Back. Forth. Round and round. Acceleration never seemed to continue in a single direction for more than a few seconds. They were going in circles. They had to be.
Finally, it appeared the pilot had decided on a direction as Kai was slammed back into his chair as the cockpit rocketed forward under sustained acceleration. They must have broken through. Or the pilot had fallen asleep at the controls with the throttle down and they were all doomed. Either way. At this point, Kai was just eager for it to be over.
The acceleration continued. He felt like he was being crushed. Like an enormous hand was pressing against him, trying to squeeze all of his organs out through his eyes. Whatever was powering the cockpit now was beyond the parameters of the shuttle's acceleration compensators. His vision began to dim and his joints ached. Pain surged up in his right arm, which was still contorted within the goo. He was fairly certain a bone had just snapped.
"Oppenheimer..ETA," Kai managed to gasp out, drawing the breath back into his lungs with some effort.
"The shuttle is not currently on course to intercept with the UWDFF Oppenheimer."
"Joan." Kai wheezed. "Connect. Joan."
The acceleration cut off.
Kai took a huge gulp of air, the relief immediate. "Comm-link. Fleet Admiral Joan Orléans."
No response.
Kai tried again.
Silence greeted him.
Grumbling, he raised his left wrist toward his face. He stuck out his tongue and smeared it along the wrist console's interface. None of the expected beeps and chirps sounded out. It was dead, and, he suspected, so was the cockpit along with whatever had been propelling him. No life support. No way to call out for help. No way to do anything but sit there. For all intents and purposes, they were a hunk of space junk drifting off into the black oblivion.
Fair enough. It was a fitting end.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
Kai tried to muster some anger at the situation, if only to distract him from the pain coursing through his body, but found he was up to the task. It was easier to be motivated when there was something to do. Some way he could impact the situation. But there was nothing to do but wait. Maybe he'd live. Probably he'd die. He didn't mind it, that was the same binary he faced every other day. It was a bit more present in his mind than it normally was, but the truth was that he was overdue for demise. He'd given death the slip more times than anyone had a right to.
Still. It bothered him.
Not the death part. The not doing what he set out to do part.
He had run through walls, both literal and figurative, to make it this far. He didn't know what making it back to the Oppenheimer would mean for Humanity, but it had to be better than not making it. The encryption key -- what did it do? What could it do? Would it be doable? Neeria -- could she guide them? Could she help them navigate the treacherous galaxy Humanity was just beginning to play a part in?
There were so many questions. The answers could matter.
Kai tried to remember how much time they had. Without life support, the supply of oxygen would rapidly begin to deplete. He supposed it didn't matter, since he had no idea whether Neeria breathed, what Neeria she breathed, or the rate she consumed it. His space suit had a few hours of stored supply, but it was designed to work in conjunction with his helmet. Without the wrist console, he'd need to find some way to manually vent it.
That was something to do. Small, but perhaps meaningful. Anything to tilt the scales just a little bit more in their direction. Just a few more minutes of air could make a difference.
"Seconds matter," Kai wheezed out. His breath was wet and tasted of iron. He'd worry about that later. Air first. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than nothing.
He hoped Joan's plans were faring better.
-------------------
The Admiral's Bridge was awash in a sea of red. Multiple views vied for primacy as the situation continued to deteriorate. So far, the Oppenheimer itself had withstood the sustained EMP assault directed its way, but the same could not be said for the battle balls. Callsigns continued to blink out of existence with every passing second. The Oppenheimer had immediately attempted to provide supporting fire, but its kinetic weaponry was similarly disabled. Whatever the circumstances had been that had allowed the Alcubierre to destroy an alien vessel, they were clearly no longer relevant to the situation at hand. Without kinetics, the vast majority of Humanity's space-born projective power was effectively nullified. Science was looking into explanations and alternatives, but it would take time.
The Oppenheimer's EMP arrays had succeeded in firing, but the alien vessels appeared to be impervious to that form of assault. It was unclear whether they possessed EMP hardening around core processes similar to the Oppenheimer or they had other means of deflecting attacks of that nature. In the absence of an alternative, the Oppenheimer was continuously discharging the EMP arrays as they became available, attempting to test for weaknesses. The energy drain from the sustained fire was easily accommodated by the altered physics of local space, but it was unclear whether alien defenses could be worn down by continuous assault.
Other oddities were appearing as the situation unfolded. The aliens did not field any tactical fighters that their sensors could identify. There were ships of different sizes, but, thus far, no vessels had moved to directly engage the balls. Kai's cockpit was being corralled by a series of smaller ships working in conjunction with the larger ones, but that was it.
Joan considered it, trying to parse out deeper meanings from the absence. Human conflict, both Earthside and in space, had always heavily relied on tactical fighters. They had numerous advantages in terms of firepower projection and significantly increased tactical dynamism in a battle zone. Either the aliens had never considered the approach, or it was considered suboptimal within this environment.
Joan squinted, watching as the battle ball's callsigns dropped from the battle status view. She tilted her head. "This environment," she muttered to herself, her eyes drawn to the EMP array firing status. The recharge bars filled and expended. Filled and expended. Each cycle representing an incredibly powerful pulse of electromagnetic energy at the speed of light.
Speed of light.
Speed.
The answer struck her. The ramifications of the answer were displeasing. Plans must be altered. Contingencies reconsidered. The Black Fork was too optimistic. Their position was considerably worse than hoped for, but not entirely beyond anticipated outcomes, which had included their immediate destruction upon arrival in the system. They simply had fewer tools than she desired.
Tactical fighters had low utility when combat operated at the speed of light. There was no yield on agility, because no thruster could move faster than light could travel. There was no evading a lightspeed weapon at these distances. Unless a tactical fighter could retain functionality under fire, which the death balls so far could not, they were a pointless extravagance. At best, they could serve as a momentary distraction, particularly when their weapons were inoperable.
The unique characteristics of Humanity's birthplace were a hindrance here. Kinetics were the logical path for weaponry to take in an environment where destructive output was a matter of maximizing scarce energy resources. They were also the easiest, most natural extension from their Earthside forebears. Humanity had begun development of lightspeed weapons, the EMP and the Griggs pulse among them, but they placed tremendous strain on ship systems. The Oppenheimer, as a dreadcarrier, was among the few Earth spaceships that contained a full battery of EMP arrays. Due to the extremely demanding specifications, only a Pulser class ship could make use of a Griggs pulse. Had Humanity known what it faced just beyond its doorstep, it would have invested its research and development resources differently.
Too late now.
The game was not lost yet, they simply must play the hand they were dealt to its greatest effect.
A display flashed from green to red and moved toward the center of the wall, increasing in size. Simultaneously, three other displays shifted in color, position and size, in a chain reaction. Joan frowned. Or perhaps the game was lost, and she was only just realizing it. The shuttle cockpit's callsign, along with the four balls that had attached to it, had disappeared. Her hands darted up and began a series of gestures, swiping North to South as she removed some filters from the local space scan and South to North as she applied others.
She exhaled.
The shuttle had not been destroyed, only incapacitated. It was careening through space away from the cluster of alien ships closest to Halcyon, though a few were in rapid pursuit. The pursuers had acceleration in their favor, but the shuttle's current course brought them toward the Oppenheimer.
Joan flicked a few fingers, pulling the course data from the local scan and pushing it into the timer view.
Before Joan could issue the order, the nearest balls peeled off and immediately began an intercept course with the shuttle. Joan pulled up the command-chain, it appeared that Captain Bushida had decided to be proactive. Very well, but it would not be enough. The balls were more likely than not to be incapacitated before they could be used in any rescue effort. This required a more substantial intervention if the outcome were to be changed.
Joan pushed a new course heading into her comm-link with Ragnar. "Captain, I am moving us off of the Black Fork standing orders."
Ragnar glanced at the course heading. "That's even further in."
Joan nodded, "It's the only way we'll recover the cockpit. The balls can't get the job done."
"There's a risk the Oppenheimer won't get it done either. They're holding back," Ragnar replied, his eyes scanned off screen, bouncing between the various readouts and inbound requests. "Doesn't make any sense they'd only have EMPs. They've got more."
"Likely. My current belief is that they will refrain from further escalation until they have either secured the cockpit or believe they can no longer retrieve it. Each moment of escalation from them has been in response to an action on our part directed at the cockpit."
Ragnar wiped the back of his sleeve against his brow, mopping up the sweat. "Must be something important."
"Must be. The prize is likely worth the pain here, Ragnar. Retrieving the cockpit is the top priority. Preservation of ourselves is an ancillary concern."
"G4 is only a few out. We can hold that long," Ragnar said.
"Get the job done, Captain," Joan ordered and then cut the comm. Ragnar was a sophisticated battlefield tactician. The overlap between them was significant, and the differences between them were accretive to both. They both knew there was another card to be played, it was just a matter of whether Humanity could adapt to it.
Joan opened another comm-link. "Chief Adeyemi."
The Chief blinked a few times as the interjection, as if being pulled from a daze.
"Idara!" Joan exclaimed. "Where's Science at?"
Idara wet her lips, "We've gathered the data and mapped it to a few different explanations...but we need more--"
"You don't have it. Best guess, go."
"Some sort of inertial dampening field. Effects smaller objects. Weakens as the objects get larger. Only affects objects moving a certain speed. Only affects objects in space. Our kinetics are getting caught. Bigger objects, like the fighters, like the Oppenheimer, are fine. Bullets fired inside of the Oppenheimer are fine.
"Any sense on source?"
Idara shook her head.
"But it doesn't effect the fighters. Doesn't effect energy based weapons."
"From what we can see, that's right."
Joan's eyes drifted toward the tracker on Kai's cockpit. Hurtling through space.
"Idara, when the Alcubierre was heading for Proxima Barrier, your modeling said the ship would survive the impact, correct?"
"Yes, Admiral. There isn't an equal an opposite reaction. Actor has primacy in these physics."
Joan stared at Idara, lost in thought. The Chief shifted uncomfortably, "Is there something else--"
"I have what I need," Joan replied, cutting the comm.
She pulled up the status tracker on the balls. Over eight-five percent of launched fighters had already been incapacitated. The Oppenheimer still retained a final wing in its hangers, numbering approximately a hundred and twenty additional balls.
Joan watched the timers ticking down. They needed to go on the offensive. To find a way to tilt the situation in their favor. Even if they retrieved the cockpit, it was a long way back to the wormhole, and a long time to survive before G4 appeared. If the aliens had an ace up their sleeve, that would be the time to play it, when they had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
She re-opened the comm with Ragnar. "Captain, I think we can even the odds a bit."
"I'm all ears, Admiral."
Joan pushed a series of orders to Ragnar. He glanced at them and then glared at her, "You want--
"Yes, Captain, that's what I want."
"But they'll be destroyed," Ragnar responded.
"Not if they're moving fast enough. Get whoever we can get back into the hangers, launch the rest without the pilots. Target the ships. Target Halcyon."
Ragnar stared at her, "Halcyon? That's a civilian--"
"Captain, I want those balls dumped and under full steam at the designated targets. That's an order."
Ragnar opened his mouth and then shut it. A hand came off screen and formed a salute. The comm was dropped shortly after. Almost immediately, the tactical fighters shifted flight plans and began their retreat toward the Oppenheimer. Simultaneously, the wing residing within the *Oppenheimer'*s hangers shifted from stand-by to active. Soon they would be launched, pushing top acceleration toward Halcyon. No EMP would be able to stop them. If the aliens had another card to play, Joan hoped this would force it out and maybe, just maybe, buy enough time for G4 to make an appearance.
She just needed a little time.
Just needed to survive long enough for the Pulsers to arrive.
Seconds mattered.
Next.
Be sure to leave a comment or an upvote if you're enjoying Alcubierre. If you want a sense of how much it matters to me, here's a very emo journal entry documenting it.
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I have been conducting a strange experiment on my Twitter which people seem to be enjoying. I found an AI bot that randomly posts impactful images every few minutes. I've decided to craft a narrative on top of these random images called "The Human Archives."
submitted by PerilousPlatypus to PerilousPlatypus [link] [comments]

The Shoulders of Orion- Ch. 1: First Contact

Space-time rippled as the Horns of Glory snapped into real space. The normally smooth transition from FTL subspace travel back to the laws of relativity was instead dangerously jarring, as the inertial dampeners struggled to hold the innards of the massive warship in their proper places. After straining mightily for the briefest of moments, they failed, throwing Admiral Halon Va and the rest of his bridge crew violently into their restraining harnesses. The ship shuddered under the immense stress, then settled, drifting silently through space on minimal power.
“Tactical, get me a status report for the fleet on screen now. I want updates the instant ships jump in.” The Admiral’s voice was still firm and authoritative; it was taking every last shred of resolve he had to keep it that way. “Lieutenant Roshin, put a detail together and work with medical. I’m sure that re-entry caused more than a few extra injuries. Get as many of the crew patched up and ready for emergency action as fast as you can. I want a full casualty report as soon as possible. And if you find Science Officer Lentith and he’s still alive, send him to the bridge immediately.”
Admiral Va settled back into his command chair, drawing creaking sounds from the over-stressed frame as it absorbed the weight of his massive form. The bridge was completely silent now, the command crew entirely focused on the tasks at hand. Or they were too afraid to say anything; Va couldn’t be sure. He was thankful for their silence, though. He didn’t have any answers for them about his failure.
Keying in a few commands on the command panel at his station, the damage report for his ship popped up, the bridge lights flickering from the extra power draw. The Horns of Glory floated before him in hologram form. Long and slender, the ship was over two kilometers from bow to stern. At least, it had been a few hours ago. The forward 20 percent of the holographic ship was flashing red, indicating heavy damage. This was inaccurate, however, as the forward 20 percent of the ship simply wasn’t there anymore. The graceful lines and carefully crafted angles of the ship's armor were an unrecognizable slagged mess, and deep gouges had been cut into the inner decks all over the ship. Whole sections were missing amidships, two of the main reactors were offline, all the primary weapon batteries had been completely destroyed, and most of the critical systems were barely functioning. It was a miracle that she had survived the jump. That morning, Horns of Glory had been the greatest feat of Arien’Ra engineering, and it was now a barely functioning hulk.
And it had all happened under my command, thought Va.
He had no time to wallow in his failures, however, as at that moment tactical finally reconnected to the fleet command systems. The hologram of Horns of Glory quickly scaled down, appearing as a small, flashing, red point of light floating in loose formation with several other points of light. Most of them were flashing red as well. A constant stream of data and various reports scrolled down the right side of the hologram, listing in no uncertain terms the doom that Va had subjected his command to.
If Va had thought that the bridge was quiet before, it was nothing compared to the complete stillness that now settled over them. No one so much as moved a muscle, as they all sat in stunned silence, reading the reports. Occasionally, the hologram would flash, and a new point of light would join the formation, adding more data to the pile spelling out their damnation. After 30 ticks, new points of light had stopped appearing. Admiral Halon Va had lost over 60 percent of his fleet, and not a single other dreadnaught had survived the slaughter. His defeat was total, and the Federation navy was crippled.




Science Officer Beredarin Lentith had been the first member of his family not to enroll in command school in eight generations. They had been some of the finest members of the fleet the Vorqual race had ever contributed to the Federation. His brothers and sisters had all enrolled, which meant that as far as he was concerned, his family had more than fulfilled their duty to the Federation. Military life wasn’t for him, anyway; he wanted to explore. The Federation had been around for over 3000 years, and there were still vast swathes of the galaxy that they knew nothing about. They were still encountering new species every few hundred or so years, and there was nothing he wouldn’t give to find the next one. That had been the dream that directed him away from the military and into academia. The odds of actually finding a new race were so small, though. There were still at least 200,000,000 unexplored systems in the galaxy. There just wasn’t time to visit them all...
He snapped out of his reverie as he stepped over the body, or rather, what was left of the body, of a Zelnassi marine. Most of it was just a green stain on the corridor wall at this point, though there had been enough of the chitinous armored torso to partially obstruct his path. The young lieutenant quickly continued on towards the bridge.
If he was being honest with himself, becoming an expert on the area of unexplored space directly between the Federation and it’s largest military rival wasn’t the smartest of ideas. Between his family reputation and his unique knowledge base, he was just asking to get pressed into service.
Which was exactly what had happened immediately upon the recent outbreak of hostilities.
And now here he was stepping over corpses, marveling at the fact that he had somehow survived this long. He still couldn’t believe the insanity of the Dominion forces. Boarding an enemy ship MID-COMBAT. It was like something out of a youngling’s tale from before space travel. It was pure madness, but there were the bodies to prove that it had happened. He gingerly stepped around the remains of yet another Zelnassi.
The signs of battle continued all the way to the bridge, where he found security forces still holding quickly fortified positions around the bridge entrance. There were more Zelnassi bodies at their feet. Berendarin shuddered. He had been closer to death than he thought.
He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He could only imagine why he was needed on the bridge so urgently.
The door slid open, and Lentith walked into a completely silent room. Admiral Va was slouched at his command station, his enormous arm propped up on the chair arm and supporting his massive, horned head. Lentith didn’t even know that Arien’Ra COULD slouch. Nevermind that the fastidious Admiral could or would ever do such a thing. Maybe things were somehow worse than he thought. No one seemed to notice him enter, so he announced himself to the Admiral.
Though he didn’t shout, his voice echoed in the deathly silent room, startling most of the bridge command. Two of the other Vorqual officers swore, and the tiny Jezren manning the com station let out a high pitched sound somewhere between a squeak and chirp. Berendarin would have found it quite funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.
Admiral Va immediately snapped back to being the hulk of muscle and horn that imposed his will on a room just by being in it. His booming voice only added to his authority.
“Science Officer Lentith. I’m glad to see you’re still alive. Are you seriously injured?”
Berendarin had almost forgotten that he had walked the entire way to the bridge holding a bandage to his head just above his left eye. The drop out of subspace hadn’t been kind to him. He pulled the bandage away, revealing a dark orange stain on the bandage and a crack in the bone plate above his eye.
“I’m fine, sir, just one of the outer plates, and the bleeding has already stopped.”
“Good. Commander Vortith is currently overseeing the emergency repairs. Take his seat. You are going to help me find a way back home.”
“Sir? I’m sorry I don’t understand. Why don’t we just go back the way we came?”
“That’s not possible. Most of our supply ships and tenders were destroyed when that third wave of Dominion ships hit our flank. Almost all of our pre-prepared fuel reserves are gone. On top of that, some of our ships are so damaged that they don’t have another long jump in them. And if we run into any enemy ships, the whole rest of the fleet is done for. We barely qualify as a fighting force in the state we’re in.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“It’s worse, but we don’t have time to get into the details. You’re the expert on this section of the galaxy. I need you to find the fleet a hiding hole. Somewhere away from the known jump routes through the Spur. Any system where we can use the few miners we have left to scavenge up some fuel, and get some critical repairs done while we’re at it. And from there either wait for reinforcements or get ourselves patched up enough to limp home. Wherever it is, it needs to be close. I’m not leaving any ships behind because they can’t make the jump.”
“Oh. Just that?” The lieutenant knew that Arien’Ra were strict herbivores, but with the look that the Admiral shot him, he couldn’t help but think about the fact that his head would easily fit into that giant, molar filled mouth.
“And away from any known pirate hideaways. Like I said, our fleet can’t take any more fighting. And find it quickly. It won’t be long before the Dominion fleet locates us.”
“I. Uh. Sure. I’ll see what I can find.”
Berendarin shrank into the commander’s chair next to the enormous Arien’Ra, desperately wishing he had been more professional. If he had acted like a proper soldier, it might soften the blow of telling the Admiral that what he wanted was next to impossible. If he had a few weeks, he might be able to find something. So much of the Spur was still un-surveyed. The odds of there being anything useful to the Admiral in the databases was absurdly low, and there was even less of a chance he’d be able to find it in time for the information to matter. He began pouring through his notes anyway. It was better than waiting around to die, which, if the situation was as dire as the Admiral made it sound, was the only other option.
He spent the next hour lost in his notes, finding nothing, while the bridge crew went about piecing the ship and the fleet back together. The young scientist had all but given up on the Admiral’s impossible request when a raucous cheer went up from everyone on the command deck.
“Sir,” The coms officer called out, “The Consul’s Pride just dropped out of subspace and is hailing us, sir.
The main communication screen lit up, and Berendarin Lentith looked to see the face of his oldest sister on screen, strapped into the captain’s chair of her dreadnaught. He let out a sigh of relief; Baraquen was his favorite sibling. Her uniform was drenched in a deep orange blood stain at the shoulder, and she was covered in what looked like flecks of green gore from a Xelnassi. The artificial gravity was clearly malfunctioning, as the captain’s restraining harness was the only thing keeping her from floating around her bridge. But the bone plates of her jaw were turned as always into her calm, self assured smile
“My apologies for the delay in joining you, Admiral Va. We had some… guests shut down our drive mid jump. We had to deal with them before we rejoined the fleet. I assume there is a plan to get us back to federation space?”
“It’s good to see you in one piece, Captain Lentith,” the Admiral responded. He was barely able to keep the relief from his voice. “And there is indeed a plan.”
Berendarin returned to his research as the two ranking officers in the fleet went over the details of their current predicament. He was glad his sister had survived, and not just because they were close. It would have been a terrible blow to the whole family to have lost not only their future matriarch, but the ship she commanded as well. A member of his family had been commanding that dreadnaught uninterrupted for the last 5 generations. Military service had never appealed to Berendarin, but his family history was certainly still important.
And then the solution to the current problem hit him like a driver round. He let out a gasp and tore into his notes with a fervor. Both Admiral Va and his sister’s projection turned to look at him, but he didn’t notice. After a few seconds of curious silence from the rest of the onlookers, Berendarin practically jumped out of his seat.
“Admiral, I think I’ve got something that will work.” The young Lieutenant punched a few commands into his datapad, and a set of stellar coordinates popped up on the navigation terminal. “It’s a main sequence star, about 500 light years from us, fairly close to the edge of the Spur. It’s not anywhere near any established jump routes. The Consul’s Pride made me think of it.” He nodded towards his sister’s face on the ship's screen. “Our great, great grandsire took the Consul’s Pride through the system on her shakedown run a little over 300 cycles ago. Chased a band of Qorthi slavers out of the system. The outer four planets are all gas giants. If we can’t find Helium 3 there, I don’t know where else we should look.”
On screen, Captain Lentith looked impressed, but Admiral Va clearly didn’t seem too sure. “We’re supposed to be going away from Dominion forces, not into them. What were the Qorthi doing there?”
“There are also four rocky inner worlds in the system, Sir, according to reports from the encounter. Apparently, the third planet is a Class 7 Deathworld, and the Qorthi were running some experiments on the primitive lifeforms there. They were caught completely by surprise by the Consul’s Pride, and it was the first time that she fired her weapons in anger. I can’t find any reports of Dominion ships in that section of the Spur since.” There was a long pause before Va responded.
“Good work, Lieutenant. I knew my trust in you wasn’t misplaced.” Admiral Va replied, before turning to the rest of the bridge and booming “Coms! Tactical! Get those coordinates to every ship in the fleet. I want every ship we have left formed up and ready to jump as soon as possible. Any captain who feels that his drives can’t make the jump is to focus all repair efforts on getting their drives functioning immediately. I will transfer repair crews from less damaged ships to more damaged ships if that means we jump even a tick earlier. Get to it everyone. I’m not losing any more of my fleet today.”




The four revolution long jump to Science Officer Lentith’s newfound sanctuary had done wonders for Halon Va’s mental state. The initial shock of his fleet's terrible defeat had worn off, and he had been able to focus on what came next. Repair crews were able to stabilize most of his ship's core systems, and he was no longer worried about the life support systems cutting out and killing the rest of his crew. There had also been time for him to visit with the wounded. To thank them for their sacrifices. He had expected it to be an act of contrition, maybe even a chance to start begging for forgiveness. But there had been no anger in his crew, and no blame hung on his horns. Most had just been relieved that he had survived, and had expressed as much. He would be forever grateful to them for that.
Most importantly, the four revolutions in hyperspace had given the admiral time to really think about what had gone wrong in the nebula. He had barely rested in the preceding four revolutions, spending every scrap of spare time in his office, pouring over records from the battle. That’s where he found himself now, tucked behind his massive ceramic and titanium alloy desk of Tellarim design. It had been custom made for him upon his promotion to this command, a gift from the high admirals and the council. It was the only luxury that Va allowed in his office. The rest of Va’s space he kept strictly utilitarian. There were no trophies adorning his walls, as was customary for other members of his species. The plain bulkheads of his office were instead lined entirely with screens, and each of them were now filled with footage and reports from the battle, running on loop.
Va soaked it all in. The more he watched, the more a singular conclusion crystallized in his mind. He had done everything right; he was sure of that now. 1000 years of doctrine and theory for fighting the Dominion had gone into his preparation for that battle, and he had followed it to the letter. And he had been winning. Then that attack on his flank by the Zelnassi had blown all of that out of the airlock. Something significant had changed in the way the Dominion fought...
Commander Vortith’s voice rang out over the com system. ”Admiral Va, we’ll be transitioning back to real space in moments.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there shortly. And get Science Officer Lentith to the bridge. I want him nearby just in case. He’s the only one who has any idea of where we are.” The Admiral pulled himself from his desk. He would have to leave the rest of his analysis for later. There was just enough time for him to reach the bridge and settle into his command chair before the Horns of Glory snapped back to real space. This time, the inertial dampeners held.
“Tactical, status report.”
“All ships accounted for, Admiral. Though the Consul’s Pride, several cruisers, and three of our escorts are all reporting massive failures in their Drive Cores. They won’t be jumping anywhere anytime soon.”
“Wonderful.” Va wasn’t sure if he meant that sarcastically or not. “Get scans up and running and deploy the pickets that aren’t crippled in a standard scouting formation. How close are we to the nearest gas giant?”
“We’re approximately half a light tick from the system’s innermost gas giant, sir.”
“Excellent. Deploy the rest of the fleet. Put us in a high orbit around the planet in a defensive formation, and get our miners working immediately. Once our orbit is stable, I want every hand, paw and hoof in the fleet working on repairs.”
“Yes sir.”
Admiral Va settled into his command chair for a long shift.
It would be a drawn out, boring process to refuel the ships. With his fleet limping along, and only two functioning miners, it would take far longer than it should. After all the chaos of the last few revolutions, boring would be a welcome change of pace. Va started to relax, sinking into his chair’s acceleration padding. His fleet and his crews were finally safe. The first priority would be to get one of the subspace beacons repaired and to get word back to the Federation that the fleet still existed. And hopefully call for aid. He was sure to be stripped of his rank as soon as contact was made, but hopefully he would avoid a Tribunal. That was an unpleasant prospect…
“Sir, we have unidentified ship signatures appearing from around the planet we’re approaching.”
Va had never heard panic in the voice of his young sensors officer before, but it was certainly there now. Va understood the sentiment, though. He found it difficult to keep the panic from his own voice as he started issuing orders
“Bring the fleet up to combat status immediately. How many ships are there?”
“I’m showing 35 individual signatures. All approaching us at combat speed and still accelerating. At current speeds, they will intercept us in just over 30 ticks, sir.”
“I want details as soon as you have them, Lieutenant. Size, make, estimated firepower. Who they are. And keep scanning the system. Find out where they came from.” The panic had partially subsided for Va. 35 unknowns was not too terrible a threat. He still had almost 240 warships under his command. Still, if there was a way to avoid combat, he had to try. His fleet couldn’t suffer any more losses. “Coms, any attempt by these unknown ships to contact us?”
“I”m not sure, sir,” the diminutive Jezren at the coms replied. “There’s nothing on standard communications channels. The ships are transmitting something, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
“Admiral,” the Lieutenant at the sensors station called out. “I think I might have an idea of where these ships came from. Preliminary scans show there is extensive urbanization on the third and fourth planets, as well as what appear to be habitation sized artificial satellites around the second and sixth planets. One of the moons of the gas giant we’re approaching shows signs of habitation as well. All of them are emitting significant signal pollution. This system clearly already belongs to someone, and they’re broadcasting everywhere.”
Halon Va, High Admiral of the Combined Federation Fleets, turned, slowly and with as much composure as he could muster, to face the young science officer seated to his left. Berendarin sat, mouth agape, staring transfixed at the sensor readouts in front of him. Va had never seen a Vorqual more confused in his life. “I want answers, Officer Lentith.”
“I… I don’t.. This doesn’t make any sense,” the young science officer stammered. “There shouldn’t be anything here.”
“Admiral,” The comms officer cut in, “The signal that we’re picking up from the unknown ships is definitely some kind of communication. I managed to put together audio from it.”
“Play it,” commanded Va. A series of short, guttural, and completely unintelligible sounds came over the speakers in reply. There was a short pause before the sounds repeated themselves again. “Coms, what was that?”
“No idea, sir, but it’s being transmitted on loop. If it is intended as a communication, our translators have no idea what to do with it.”
“Admiral.” The voice came from Va’s left, and was barely audible. Va turned yet again to look at the young science officer. His gaze was locked on the tactical readout, and there something in his eyes that Va couldn’t recognize. A mixture of pure terror and something else. Was it wonder? The young Vorqual’s voice was still barely above a whisper when he continued to address the admiral: “I think we should run the transmission through First Contact Protocols.”




Captain Benjamin Alvarez-León slammed against his restraining harness as the USCS Aurora started it’s decel burn. He had pushed the engines on the outdated cruiser to their limits, and the ship groaned in protest as it started counteracting his rather zealous acceleration orders. He hoped that his mad scramble with his small squadron of outdated ships had been an overreaction. The alternative was something he’d rather not think about.
All Ben had was the reserves; the rest of the fleet was on maneuvers at Sirius. The Admiralty had wanted to test the new, fully modernized fleet’s maneuvering abilities in the gravwell of a binary system. And, in their infinite wisdom, they decided they needed ALL of the new fleet assets, leaving nothing in Sol except for the handful of cruisers and escorts that couldn’t match the capabilities of the modern ships.
A handful of cruisers and escorts that were now hurtling towards more than 200 unknown contacts.
It was the unknown part of all of this that was unnerving Ben. There were no familiar energy signatures. No familiar scan data. No IFF. No signals coming off the contacts of any kind for that matter. Two of the contacts were too big to even be ships. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were moving towards Jupiter in formation, Ben wouldn’t even think they WERE ships.
“So what do you think, Alexi?” Ben asked, turning towards his second in command. “You and the rest of the bridge crew are always making inane bets. Have you whipped up an over-under for what we’re throwing ourselves at yet?”
“Haven’t had time,” came the quick reply from Ben’s right. The short, stocky man from Vladivostok was missing his trademark joviality. “Though, my money is on them being Ithacan, sir.”
Ben bristled at Alexi calling him sir. They’d been friends for twenty years, damnit, and had been practically joined at the hip since going through the Academy together. Outranking him still felt a little off. Now was hardly the time to worry about formalities, though.
“What makes you think they're from Ithaca?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. The locals have been getting increasingly radical, and Ithaca is the only sector where reports of piracy have been increasing.”
“Yeah, I could see a rebellion coming from Ithaca,” Ben added slowly, turning over that scenario in his head. “But there’s no way they could swing something of this magnitude. There aren’t even any shipyards in the sector. And even if there were, there’s no way they could keep the construction of over two hundred ships a secret.”
Alexi could only offer him a shrug in response.
It was at that moment that the coms station informed him there was a transmission incoming from the unidentified ships. Ben instructed the ensign to play it, and the bridge was suddenly filled with a stream of grotesque bleating noises and strange grunts, with the occasional recognizable syllable interspersed throughout the transmission. Ben thought he picked out ‘dentify’ from the mess, but he wasn’t sure. There was a long moment of silence on the bridge.
“What the hell was that?”
When no one had any answers for him, Ben tapped his command console and recorded a new message to broadcast.
“This is Captain Alvarez of the USCS Aurora. Unidentified ships, please clarify. Your transmission is badly garbled. We did not receive your identification. You are still trespassing in Commonwealth space and are on an unauthorized course towards Jupiter. Begin decelerating immediately and re-identify yourselves.”
He wouldn’t admit it to the crew, but Ben was profoundly unsettled. Something was deeply, deeply wrong about this whole situation. Not only was he vastly outnumbered by these things, but they were unwilling to communicate properly. He was almost believing this whole thing was some kind of bizarre prank.
“How much longer before we can get a decent visual on these things?
“Any moment now, sir.”
A new transmission arrived just then, and Ben had it played back immediately. This time, instead of almost bovine bleats and grunts, the sounds coming over the speakers were mostly intelligible. Or, they would have been, if any of the syllables were in the right order. It was almost like a toddler was rattling off all of his new favorite sounds, spitting them out in a random order and not knowing how they went together. There were still a few heavy grunts sprinkled in, just for good measure.
Before Ben could process this new joke of a transmission, the contacts finally started slowing. In a matter of moments, the strange wall of contacts was hanging lazily in Jupiter’s orbit, barely moving fast enough to keep their orbit from decaying. They were still in perfect formation.
“Huh. Well, I guess that’s something.”
With nothing to do but sit back and wait as his ship closed the distance, Ben tried to relax and began running over all of the possibilities in his mind of what the new contacts could be. He came up with nothing. Well, nothing feasible, anyway. He took a series of long, calming breaths, trying to clear his mind and focus. This was no time for his imagination to be running wild. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that logic was failing him. Something was off. Something…
“Captain, bringing visual of the unknown contacts up on screen now.”
Ben actually felt his jaw drop. Every contact on his display was clearly a ship. Most were long and spindly, wrapped in layers of some kind of highly reflective armor; a fleet of crystalline arrows hanging in the darkness. The two largest contacts, which Ben had just moments ago thought were too big to be ships, were large enough on the screen for him to clearly see details. In addition to their immense size and strange armor, both ships were dotted with what were clearly weapons platforms, though what kind, Ben couldn’t tell.
Noticeably, almost all of the ships on his screen were heavily damaged. Chunks were missing from some ships, and most had deep lines gouged into their hulls. Any form of decorative paint or markings had been burned away. Something had put these ships through absolute hell. But still, the damage could not take away entirely from the elegance of the ship’s designs. They were graceful and sleek, completely different from anything Ben had ever seen before.
It was all so different. So strange. So very, very… Alien.
Despite every effort he had made to avoid the word, it finally forced itself to form inside Ben’s mind, and forced him to acknowledge the reality that legitimate, extra-Solar life was hanging in the darkness in front of him. It forced him to acknowledge the screams he had been suppressing in the back of his mind. The screams of his imagination crying out in glorious triumph over reality. And with those screams came a deluge of accompanying thoughts and emotions.
He was a child again, staring up at the stars above Armstrong and wondering what else, and who else, was out there. He was a teen again, signing his name to the Academy enrollment paperwork, determined to get out there between the stars and see the galaxy himself. He was a young officer again, screaming and pleading with the Admiralty to at least consider a modern First Contact scenario. He was sitting in his command chair now, hurtling towards honest-to-god aliens, all of his dreams made manifest in an instant. He was overwhelmed. He was terrified.
And he had never imagined that he could feel such elation.
It was the young warrant officer at the coms that snapped Ben out of his reverie. “Sir, the contacts are hailing us on all standard channels, requesting a video feed.” She sounded very, very nervous.
Ben immediately stood up, straightening his uniform as best he could. “If they’re anything less than genocidal monsters, I’m going to offer them aid and repairs. As long as they’re peaceful, there’s no reason not to extend them the full hospitality of humanity.”
“Ben,” Alexi asked, clearly choosing his words carefully, “Are you sure that’s the… Wisest course of action? How will the Admiralty respond to Goddamned alien ships docking at Hephaestus?”
“Alexi, in the 250 years the Commonwealth has existed, the First Contact protocols haven’t been updated since the charter was signed. No one has cared. This has been nothing but a fantasy for most people. I am NOT letting this opportunity get away. Every child that has ever looked up at the stars and wondered finally got an answer, and I will not waste this moment. We’re making friends, the Admiralty and the government be damned.”
“You do realize you’re potentially deciding the fate of our entire species on a whim, right?”
“Is there someone else you’d prefer to have making this call?”
Alexi, apparently deciding that there was not, stood up and straightened his uniform, standing next to his friend as he ordered the connection of the video feed. The channel connected, and the human bridge crew found themselves looking at the bridge of a ship crewed by not one, but three alien races.
The largest alien in the center of the screen opened its mouth to speak. This time, instead of bleats and grunts, a choppy, mechanical voice that didn’t sync up to the alien at all proclaimed from the bridge speakers in broken, stuttering English: “I. Am Admiral. Halon. Va. Of the Federation of. Sentient Races. Greetings and. Welcome. To the. Galaxy.”
Ben couldn’t suppress his smile.
“On behalf of the United Solar Commonwealth, and all of Humanity, greetings, and welcome to Sol. Your ships look like they’ve had a bad time on your way here. If there’s any way we could aid with your repairs, we’d be happy to help.”




Slave 782 slammed his right appendage onto the control console hard enough to rupture his outer membrane and smear ichor over the panel. It had been four days since the battle in the nebula, and with the latest round of reports, he finally had to admit that the rest of the Federation fleet had escaped him.
It was a minor frustration, all things considered, but the escape prevented this from being a total victory. Still, he had proven his worth to his owners in this battle, and his experiments with the Zelnassi had paid dividends beyond his wildest imagination. He had earned a command today, and with every success in that command, his ability to bargain for his people's freedom only increased. For what he would be asking, it might take the total defeat of the Federation to earn that kind of leverage. Also frustrating, but not a task that he couldn’t handle. It would be a long war, he was sure, but like his owners, he was patient.
He would earn his freedom, even if it meant reducing the entire Federation to glass.


NEXT
submitted by STATICinMOTION to HFY [link] [comments]

The mayor of Bozeman, Chris Mhel, is accused of being overly aggressive by multiple people. This is a copy of an email I received in regards to that.

September 7, 2020 Labor Day
Members of the Bozeman City Commission, Because I cannot remain silent if I deserve to have any claim to continue to care about the rights, safety, equitable and fair treatment of women to advance gender and all equity in our community, I will do this as an individual and not on behalf of any organization. Preparing and sharing this Statement does not give me any pleasure and I hated to have to go through the pain of these records and memories again in order to respond. These statements of harmful and harassing treatment toward Bozeman City employees by our Mayor strongly influenced me that we who have suffered or witnessed this must step forward. I strongly urge everyone who is reading or listening to this - PLEASE review ALL the attached Freedom Of Information Act (FOIA) documents from our current and former City Employees – many from women, but not all – to understand this: those leaders appearing to be women-supporting, liberal or even progressive men who are in power can and in this case with the Mayor, have profoundly harmed our City’s workforce including the 1st and only women City Manager, many have said was our most successful ever. And most employees who all want the Mayor removed. From the Bozeman City Commission Agenda for September 8, 2020, the FOIA Documents – open to read all 3 sections plus those from Commissioner Cunningham (total of 4):
Discussion of Documents Related to Public Records Requests (Sullivan)
I am writing and speaking about my experiences with Chris Mehl, from and since April 19, 2018.
This date is when a leader of a local women’s business organization and I had a meeting with then Deputy Mayor Mehl (DM) to share and exchange around our City for CEDAW women’s human rights campaign to create safe, equitable and fair employment and living conditions in our community. Our meeting goal, quite simply in the same manner of our successful Equal Pay for Equal Work Resolution adopted by the City three years earlier, was to meet with each City Commissioner for an opportunity to educate, exchange around and get their advice about our proposed policy to advance women’s human rights in the workplace, schools, and our overall community through adoption of an Ordinance or Resolution. Over 70 Cities large and small throughout the U.S. have done this. Because at that time Mayor Andrus chose not to meet with any representatives of our campaign, the DM indicated he would stand in for the Mayor and learn more himself. I also indicated to the DM that there would be another representative from the local women’s business organization - a part of our City for CEDAW Leadership team who would join me. In our thorough preparation to meet with the DM – as with every Commission and community leader - we reached out to other current and former City leaders about how to approach and what best to say. At that time, I was warned by several of them that the DM “had a temper” and then I also shared that with this leader accompanying me, having no idea what that information could truly mean to each of us and our lives following. We spent an hour on April 19, 2018 from 4:00-5:00 pm at Sola Café, at the request of the DM, with several other customers nearby in the back section. While we had a carefully prepared outline of talking points of why we are requesting this now and how a policy to advance the human rights of all women and girls could benefit the City of Bozeman, we of course wanted to hear and address the DM’s questions and concerns. This meeting began by the DM with heated accusations made in anger and outrage to us in a shouting communication style about the fact that we dared to ask for this policy and goal – especially since the DM stated the Mayor already said she wouldn’t meet with our Campaign and didn’t we already have an Equal Pay Resolution. He then moved into accusatory rapid talking points ranging from how adopting a women’s human rights ordinance would cost at least $500,000 to conduct a City needs assessment to identify and address evidence of measurable gender and other discrimination and how could we waste the City’s tax dollars that way…..and the fact that children in our City have food insecurity and why should we fund a study instead of feeding the children? In trying to even answer or explore options we couldn’t get a word in for the first 30-45 minutes of his berating, bulling, belittlement and harassing “leadership style” that appeared to communicate his job was to intimidate and diminish us to the point that we would never return to the Mayor or City nor continue to educate and advance for any further women’s human rights.
As we tried to both indicate that such a study was important to identify evidence of where gender and other discrimination existed in the institutions and sectors of our City and also recommend best practices to eradicate them – as recently well demonstrated by the Bozeman United for Racial Justice which only required 2 Marches of thousands of Bozeman residents and we congratulate them! – would cost from $10-20K and we already planned to ask other organizations for their support including MSU, Women’s Foundations, donors and more! In addition, if there was great urgency about Bozeman children’s food security, our Campaign’s issue as well - the results of our study was intended to strategically focus scarce tax dollars on which of our children and families needed assistance. And from lived experience - we know many of them were likely from single parent, underpaid, women-headed households. And that a gender analysis that included race/ethnicity, income, age and more would benefit all city policies, strategic planning, budgeting and employee workplace conditions beyond pay equity disparities to include prevention of sexual, racial harassment and other corrosive and harmful behaviors.
But the DM couldn’t or wouldn’t listen until the final few minutes of this torturous hour when we calmed him down and pointed out some of the less costly or free policies other 70 Cities for CEDAW in the US have used to further women’s safety and economic security in their communities. Meanwhile those Sola Café customers and staff also witnessed the DM “leadership style” and more. After he left, we were asked,” who was that?” We said, “that’s your upcoming Mayor.” After the DM left, the volunteer leader and I tried to debrief this experience because this was so shocking - this was way more than a “Temper” issue - and appeared to be a pattern if we needed to be forewarned before meeting with the DM. In preparation for this Statement to the Commission, I needed to review and decided I will share my notes exchanged with my colleague from that DM meeting - written a day later, April 20, 2018: Quite honestly I did not expect the level to which I felt he [DM] was bullying, belittling and setting up so much opposition that he really didn't want to know any answers to the questions; he simply wanted to use them as a chance to humiliate us. I'm very, very angry and very unhappy about what he did; it was totally unnecessary and it was not fitting for a Deputy Mayor and future Mayor of our community. I'm going to be meeting with [another leader] today about their liaison with the School Board and I'm going to let them know some of what happened and get advice. I am drafting a letter this morning to Chris that follows up with Cyndy's email and why the over 20 people that were consulted about this Campaign did not see it as he did, because I don't think again he read this information very carefully. I'm going to ask you to look at it if you don't mind and share it with [ ] when I meet her with her tomorrow before I send it out. I don't want to do anything in anger. So I'm venting a little but you were wonderful and honestly we didn't need to come in with a bargaining position. We were there to learn what concerns he and the other Commissioners have:
- I had asked Chris specifically in other emails if "you are able to generally support it", or "what exactly can you support" and that was what I thought the basis of the meeting was going to be about.
Since you have so many objections to Our proposed [Bozeman for CEDAW] Ordinance as a model to achieve gender equity in our city, what is a process or framework that can allow the city to stand for gender equity and the health, dignity and safety of women and girls that is of substance and can be acceptable to the city?
The ball is in his court or their court if he's really representing Cyndy Andrus as well. But she would not behave this way - that is for sure. You were great and I couldn't have done it; I couldn't have stood it without you. I honestly did not know that this is what his "temper" is about and it's bad for the City of Bozeman. Thank you again and so sorry we both had to put up with this and quite frankly it's why we need a city ordinance when you have leadership or bosses who treat women like this. It's called gender-based verbal violence and sexual harassment and we are Me Too.
This is what happened, and now I’d like to add why this matters and why our City leadership and community should care and act.
Even though I and the other leader have had to handle other very sexist and sexual harassing situations as well as gender-based violence over our lives, much like every woman – including death threats when I co-founded a program and shelter to address gender-based violence now called The HAVEN – the harsh impacts of DM’s verbal abuse was compounded because of his power as the DM and as incoming Bozeman Mayor. Having never received any apology or clarification about his “leadership style” or any follow up whatsoever from the DM, we drafted several versions of our own follow-up letter to the DM. This letter became so diplomatic to save our women’s rights cause and thus did not adequately address his abuse of power in order to avoid retaliation. Finally we resolved to focus our goal to create and institutionalize policies advancing women’s rights and safety and, now ironically, we decided not to send our letter to the DM. We never even thought this opportunity would occur to address what we now know is a long-standing pattern of the DM’s verbal form of gender-based violence. Instead, what I did is reach out to other leaders in our community to get their advice and felt afterwards that we were not taken seriously and always, in many ways spoken or by inaction, were told the DM’s contributions were more important than his “temper.” But we also learned from other discussions that we were not the only women affected by this pattern of abuse and fear of retaliation. When Mayor Andrus did reach out to me to schedule a meeting in June, 2018, about our City for CEDAW women’s human rights campaign following a City Commission meeting presentation earlier in May with over 100 supporters and nearly 1,000 signatures on our Petition, she wanted the DM to be present. I refused and told her why (correspondence in the other documents) and, upon request, followed up with Mayor Andrus in a lengthy phone call to provide specific examples and details from the meeting with the DM on April 19th. We were grateful she didn’t include him in that meeting. Another result both of us decided for ourselves and the Cities for CEDAW campaign after this April 19th meeting was either to not ever work or meet with the DM or at least always have 3-5 people present to prevent his harmful behavior from bullying and attempting to intimidate us again. Sadly, I also substantially reduced my and our expectations of what could be achieved for the creation of an Ordinance or Resolution to advance women’s human rights as Bozeman policy since that meeting. And as the DM moved into the role of Mayor, this was another way to prevent his attacks. Again, at the painful expense of the most vulnerable women we wanted this human rights policy, education and research to serve. The other volunteer leader quit working with the Equal Pay Resolution and this organization in order to not have to work with Mayor Mehl. She has shared her own story to this effect. Our lived experience as women, men and non-binary people of sexual, racial and/or other harassment and related violence in paid or volunteer workplaces and community leadership - along with the emerging research which is so badly needed here for the City and other workplaces - is now becoming more understood about its breadth and depth. We also know from the #ME TOO Movement that liberal White men – especially when holding the most prominent positions - can present as supporters of women and progressive causes, but do NOT walk their talk. After reading – and I so strong urge everyone who is reading or listening to this, PLEASE review ALL the attached the FOIA documents from our current and former City Employees – many from women, but not all – to understand this: those leaders appearing to be women-supporting, liberal or even progressive leaders who are in power can, and in this case, the Mayor has profoundly harmed our City’s workforce including the 1st and only women City Manager, who many have said was our most successful top Administrator ever. And this “leadership style” has been experienced by other current and previous Commissioners, members of Citizen Advisory Boards, business owners and many more we will never hear from who are also afraid to come forward because if the Mayor is not removed, they will be afraid of retaliation as am I and my colleague. Thinking about future City policies that advance gender and other equity, diversity and inclusion in our community and its workplace, how can anyone feel secure, much less “welcome” in their desire to contribute to our City, as a volunteer or employee, when they learn about this fully documented, unprofessional behavior of our Mayor in violation of the City’s own policies - carefully demonstrated over 2 years with extensive evidence in the FOIA documents by former City Managers Andrea Surratt and Dennis Taylor - if then no substantive action is taken? Now my colleague and I know – the Mayor’s "leadership style" as he defines this – was never only targeted at us, but directed widely, impacting a lot of women at all levels of employment and in our community, including current and former Commissioners, with all harmed in some way. I truly regret that we did not send our fully detailed letter of DM’s bullying, abusive and gender-based harassing treatment to the Mayor and other City leaders two years ago, or had been encouraged to file an Ethics Board complaint, but we believed it would probably be used against us and the organizations we cared about. I ask the City Commissioners on behalf of all who have suffered, been diminished, been humiliated, been afraid and been denied their ability to work in safety and dignity, to change our City’s elected Mayoral leadership now. Thank you, Jan Strout (she/hers) Bozeman, MT
submitted by Spacepirateroberts to Bozeman [link] [comments]

Trade binary options on the real market quotes on BAEX Blockchain eliminates exchange rate manipulation!

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submitted by VS_community to BaexExchange [link] [comments]

Signals for binary options | Binary Options Signals

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submitted by vfxAlert3 to u/vfxAlert3 [link] [comments]

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submitted by vfxAlert3 to u/vfxAlert3 [link] [comments]

Unable to run custom scripts via dmenu when it is started with i3's mod+d key

I have encountered strange behaviour regarding dmenu_run and dmenu_recency. When I run dmenu_run or dmenu_recency from terminal and then execute simple script like echo "test" value test is printed in the terminal. However when I run dmenu_recency or dmenu_run with i3 keybinding like:
bindsym $mod+d exec --no-startup-id dmenu_recency
and then execute same simple script, then nothing happens. Dmenu lunches for other installed programs works well, it just doesen't work for execuution of my custom scripts.
What am I missing here? I suspect I have to add something else to my scripts but i dont know what. For now it is jsut plain this:
echo "test"

EDIT: Ok maybe script: echo "test" is not the best example since it is true that there is no opened terminal to write to.
But same thing happens if I try to execute script that looks like this:
code ~/.i3/config
This jsut opens the i33 config file with visual studio code. Again this works when I execute it via dmenu_run that was called from existing termina but it doesen't work when executed via dmenu_run that was called via i3 keybinding mod+d
EDIT 2:
.i3/config
# i3 config file (v4) # Please see http://i3wm.org/docs/userguide.html for a complete reference! # Set mod key (Mod1=, Mod4=) set $mod Mod4 # My testing shortcuts bindsym $mod+c exec code bindsym $mod+Shift+x exec terminal; exec terminal bindsym $mod+F4 exec /home/erik/Programs/pycharm-community-2020.2.1/bin/pycharm.sh bindsym $mod+Shift+F2 exec /home/erik/CustomScripts/google_calendar # CONFIGURABLE PRINTSCREENS OPTIONS # take a screenshot of a screen region and copy it to a clipboard #bindsym --release Shift+Print exec "ScreenCapture.sh -s /home/erik/Pictures/Screenshots/" # take a screenshot of a whole window and copy it to a clipboard #bindsym --release Print exec "ScreenCapture.sh /home/erik/Pictures/Screenshots/" # set default desktop layout (default is tiling) # workspace_layout tabbed  # Configure border style  default_border pixel 2 default_floating_border normal # Hide borders hide_edge_borders none # change borders bindsym $mod+u border none bindsym $mod+y border pixel 1 bindsym $mod+n border normal # You can also use any non-zero value if you'd like to have a border (this is to prevent issues with gaps) # for_window [class=".*"] border pixel 1 # Font for window titles. Will also be used by the bar unless a different font # is used in the bar {} block below. font xft:URWGothic-Book 11 # Use Mouse+$mod to drag floating windows floating_modifier $mod # start a terminal bindsym $mod+Return exec terminal # kill focused window bindsym $mod+Shift+q kill # start program launcher # bindsym $mod+d exec --no-startup-id dmenu_recency bindsym $mod+d exec --no-startup-id home/erik/CustomScripts/redit_solution dmenu_recency # launch categorized menu bindsym $mod+z exec --no-startup-id morc_menu ################################################################################################ ## sound-section - DO NOT EDIT if you wish to automatically upgrade Alsa -> Pulseaudio later! ## ################################################################################################ #exec --no-startup-id volumeicon #bindsym $mod+Ctrl+m exec terminal -e 'alsamixer' exec --no-startup-id start-pulseaudio-x11 exec --no-startup-id pa-applet bindsym $mod+Ctrl+m exec pavucontrol ################################################################################################ # Screen brightness controls # bindsym XF86MonBrightnessUp exec "xbacklight -inc 10; notify-send 'brightness up'" # bindsym XF86MonBrightnessDown exec "xbacklight -dec 10; notify-send 'brightness down'" # Start Applications bindsym $mod+Ctrl+b exec terminal -e 'bmenu' bindsym $mod+F2 exec chromium bindsym $mod+F3 exec pcmanfm # bindsym $mod+F3 exec ranger bindsym $mod+Shift+F3 exec pcmanfm_pkexec bindsym $mod+F5 exec terminal -e 'mocp' bindsym $mod+t exec --no-startup-id pkill compton bindsym $mod+Ctrl+t exec --no-startup-id compton -b bindsym $mod+Shift+d --release exec "killall dunst; exec notify-send 'restart dunst'" bindsym Print exec --no-startup-id i3-scrot bindsym $mod+Print --release exec --no-startup-id i3-scrot -w bindsym $mod+Shift+Print --release exec --no-startup-id i3-scrot -s bindsym $mod+Shift+h exec xdg-open /usshare/doc/manjaro/i3_help.pdf bindsym $mod+Ctrl+x --release exec --no-startup-id xkill focus_follows_mouse no # change focus bindsym $mod+j focus left bindsym $mod+k focus down bindsym $mod+l focus up bindsym $mod+semicolon focus right # alternatively, you can use the cursor keys: bindsym $mod+Left focus left bindsym $mod+Down focus down bindsym $mod+Up focus up bindsym $mod+Right focus right # move focused window bindsym $mod+Shift+j move left bindsym $mod+Shift+k move down bindsym $mod+Shift+l move up bindsym $mod+Shift+semicolon move right # alternatively, you can use the cursor keys: bindsym $mod+Shift+Left move left bindsym $mod+Shift+Down move down bindsym $mod+Shift+Up move up bindsym $mod+Shift+Right move right # workspace back and forth (with/without active container) workspace_auto_back_and_forth yes bindsym $mod+b workspace back_and_forth bindsym $mod+Shift+b move container to workspace back_and_forth; workspace back_and_forth # split orientation bindsym $mod+h split h;exec notify-send 'tile horizontally' bindsym $mod+v split v;exec notify-send 'tile vertically' bindsym $mod+q split toggle # toggle fullscreen mode for the focused container bindsym $mod+f fullscreen toggle # change container layout (stacked, tabbed, toggle split) bindsym $mod+s layout stacking bindsym $mod+w layout tabbed bindsym $mod+e layout toggle split # toggle tiling / floating bindsym $mod+Shift+space floating toggle # change focus between tiling / floating windows bindsym $mod+space focus mode_toggle # toggle sticky bindsym $mod+Shift+s sticky toggle # focus the parent container bindsym $mod+a focus parent # move the currently focused window to the scratchpad bindsym $mod+Shift+minus move scratchpad # Show the next scratchpad window or hide the focused scratchpad window. # If there are multiple scratchpad windows, this command cycles through them. bindsym $mod+minus scratchpad show #navigate workspaces next / previous bindsym $mod+Ctrl+Right workspace next bindsym $mod+Ctrl+Left workspace prev # Workspace names # to display names or symbols instead of plain workspace numbers you can use # something like: set $ws1 1:mail # set $ws2 2: set $ws1 1 set $ws2 2 set $ws3 3 set $ws4 4 set $ws5 5 set $ws6 6 set $ws7 7 set $ws8 8 # switch to workspace bindsym $mod+1 workspace $ws1 bindsym $mod+2 workspace $ws2 bindsym $mod+3 workspace $ws3 bindsym $mod+4 workspace $ws4 bindsym $mod+5 workspace $ws5 bindsym $mod+6 workspace $ws6 bindsym $mod+7 workspace $ws7 bindsym $mod+8 workspace $ws8 # Move focused container to workspace bindsym $mod+Ctrl+1 move container to workspace $ws1 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+2 move container to workspace $ws2 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+3 move container to workspace $ws3 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+4 move container to workspace $ws4 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+5 move container to workspace $ws5 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+6 move container to workspace $ws6 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+7 move container to workspace $ws7 bindsym $mod+Ctrl+8 move container to workspace $ws8 # Move to workspace with focused container bindsym $mod+Shift+1 move container to workspace $ws1; workspace $ws1 bindsym $mod+Shift+2 move container to workspace $ws2; workspace $ws2 bindsym $mod+Shift+3 move container to workspace $ws3; workspace $ws3 bindsym $mod+Shift+4 move container to workspace $ws4; workspace $ws4 bindsym $mod+Shift+5 move container to workspace $ws5; workspace $ws5 bindsym $mod+Shift+6 move container to workspace $ws6; workspace $ws6 bindsym $mod+Shift+7 move container to workspace $ws7; workspace $ws7 bindsym $mod+Shift+8 move container to workspace $ws8; workspace $ws8 # Open applications on specific workspaces # assign [class="Thunderbird"] $ws1 # assign [class="Pale moon"] $ws2 # assign [class="Pcmanfm"] $ws3 # assign [class="Skype"] $ws5 # Open specific applications in floating mode for_window [title="alsamixer"] floating enable border pixel 1 for_window [class="calamares"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="Clipgrab"] floating enable for_window [title="File Transfer*"] floating enable for_window [class="fpakman"] floating enable for_window [class="Galculator"] floating enable border pixel 1 for_window [class="GParted"] floating enable border normal for_window [title="i3_help"] floating enable sticky enable border normal for_window [class="Lightdm-settings"] floating enable for_window [class="Lxappearance"] floating enable sticky enable border normal for_window [class="Manjaro-hello"] floating enable for_window [class="Manjaro Settings Manager"] floating enable border normal for_window [title="MuseScore: Play Panel"] floating enable for_window [class="Nitrogen"] floating enable sticky enable border normal for_window [class="Oblogout"] fullscreen enable for_window [class="octopi"] floating enable for_window [title="About Pale Moon"] floating enable for_window [class="Pamac-manager"] floating enable for_window [class="Pavucontrol"] floating enable for_window [class="qt5ct"] floating enable sticky enable border normal for_window [class="Qtconfig-qt4"] floating enable sticky enable border normal for_window [class="Simple-scan"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="(?i)System-config-printer.py"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="Skype"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="Timeset-gui"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="(?i)virtualbox"] floating enable border normal for_window [class="Xfburn"] floating enable # switch to workspace with urgent window automatically for_window [urgent=latest] focus # reload the configuration file bindsym $mod+Shift+c reload # restart i3 inplace (preserves your layout/session, can be used to upgrade i3) bindsym $mod+Shift+r restart # exit i3 (logs you out of your X session) bindsym $mod+Shift+e exec "i3-nagbar -t warning -m 'You pressed the exit shortcut. Do you really want to exit i3? This will end your X session.' -b 'Yes, exit i3' 'i3-msg exit'" # Set shut down, restart and locking features bindsym $mod+0 mode "$mode_system" set $mode_system (l)ock, (e)xit, switch_(u)ser, (s)uspend, (h)ibernate, (r)eboot, (Shift+s)hutdown mode "$mode_system" { bindsym l exec --no-startup-id i3exit lock, mode "default" bindsym s exec --no-startup-id i3exit suspend, mode "default" bindsym u exec --no-startup-id i3exit switch_user, mode "default" bindsym e exec --no-startup-id i3exit logout, mode "default" bindsym h exec --no-startup-id i3exit hibernate, mode "default" bindsym r exec --no-startup-id i3exit reboot, mode "default" bindsym Shift+s exec --no-startup-id i3exit shutdown, mode "default" # exit system mode: "Enter" or "Escape" bindsym Return mode "default" bindsym Escape mode "default" } # Resize window (you can also use the mouse for that) bindsym $mod+r mode "resize" mode "resize" { # These bindings trigger as soon as you enter the resize mode # Pressing left will shrink the window’s width. # Pressing right will grow the window’s width. # Pressing up will shrink the window’s height. # Pressing down will grow the window’s height. bindsym j resize shrink width 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym k resize grow height 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym l resize shrink height 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym semicolon resize grow width 5 px or 5 ppt # same bindings, but for the arrow keys bindsym Left resize shrink width 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym Down resize grow height 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym Up resize shrink height 5 px or 5 ppt bindsym Right resize grow width 5 px or 5 ppt # exit resize mode: Enter or Escape bindsym Return mode "default" bindsym Escape mode "default" } # Lock screen bindsym $mod+9 exec --no-startup-id blurlock # Autostart applications exec --no-startup-id /uslib/polkit-gnome/polkit-gnome-authentication-agent-1 exec --no-startup-id nitrogen --restore; sleep 1; compton -b # exec --no-startup-id manjaro-hello exec --no-startup-id nm-applet exec --no-startup-id xfce4-power-manager exec --no-startup-id pamac-tray exec --no-startup-id clipit exec --no-startup-id picom # exec --no-startup-id blueman-applet # exec_always --no-startup-id sbxkb exec --no-startup-id start_conky_maia # exec --no-startup-id start_conky_green exec --no-startup-id xautolock -time 10 -locker blurlock exec_always --no-startup-id ff-theme-util exec_always --no-startup-id fix_xcursor # Color palette used for the terminal ( ~/.Xresources file ) # Colors are gathered based on the documentation: # https://i3wm.org/docs/userguide.html#xresources # Change the variable name at the place you want to match the color # of your terminal like this: # [example] # If you want your bar to have the same background color as your # terminal background change the line 362 from: # background #14191D # to: # background $term_background # Same logic applied to everything else. set_from_resource $term_background background set_from_resource $term_foreground foreground set_from_resource $term_color0 color0 set_from_resource $term_color1 color1 set_from_resource $term_color2 color2 set_from_resource $term_color3 color3 set_from_resource $term_color4 color4 set_from_resource $term_color5 color5 set_from_resource $term_color6 color6 set_from_resource $term_color7 color7 set_from_resource $term_color8 color8 set_from_resource $term_color9 color9 set_from_resource $term_color10 color10 set_from_resource $term_color11 color11 set_from_resource $term_color12 color12 set_from_resource $term_color13 color13 set_from_resource $term_color14 color14 set_from_resource $term_color15 color15 # Start i3bar to display a workspace bar (plus the system information i3status if available) bar { i3bar_command i3bar status_command i3status position bottom ## please set your primary output first. Example: 'xrandr --output eDP1 --primary' # tray_output primary # tray_output eDP1 bindsym button4 nop bindsym button5 nop # font xft:URWGothic-Book 11 strip_workspace_numbers yes colors { background #222D31 statusline #F9FAF9 separator #ff9a1f # border backgr. text focused_workspace #ff9a1f #ff9a1f #292F34 active_workspace #595B5B #353836 #FDF6E3 inactive_workspace #595B5B #222D31 #EEE8D5 binding_mode #16a085 #2C2C2C #F9FAF9 urgent_workspace #16a085 #FDF6E3 #E5201D } } # hide/unhide i3status bar bindsym $mod+m bar mode toggle # Theme colors # class border backgr. text indic. child_border client.focused #ff9a1f #ff9a1f #000000 #ff9a1f client.focused_inactive #2F3D44 #2F3D44 #1ABC9C #454948 client.unfocused #2F3D44 #2F3D44 #1ABC9C #454948 client.urgent #CB4B16 #FDF6E3 #1ABC9C #268BD2 client.placeholder #000000 #0c0c0c #ffffff #000000 client.background #2B2C2B ############################# ### settings for i3-gaps: ### ############################# # Set inneouter gaps gaps inner 0 gaps outer 0 # Additionally, you can issue commands with the following syntax. This is useful to bind keys to changing the gap size. # gaps inner|outer current|all set|plus|minus  # gaps inner all set 10 # gaps outer all plus 5 # Smart gaps (gaps used if only more than one container on the workspace) smart_gaps on # Smart borders (draw borders around container only if it is not the only container on this workspace) # on|no_gaps (on=always activate and no_gaps=only activate if the gap size to the edge of the screen is 0) smart_borders on # Press $mod+Shift+g to enter the gap mode. Choose o or i for modifying outeinner gaps. Press one of + / - (in-/decrement for current workspace) or 0 (remove gaps for current workspace). If you also press Shift with these keys, the change will be global for all workspaces. set $mode_gaps Gaps: (o) outer, (i) inner set $mode_gaps_outer Outer Gaps: +|-|0 (local), Shift + +|-|0 (global) set $mode_gaps_inner Inner Gaps: +|-|0 (local), Shift + +|-|0 (global) bindsym $mod+Shift+g mode "$mode_gaps" mode "$mode_gaps" { bindsym o mode "$mode_gaps_outer" bindsym i mode "$mode_gaps_inner" bindsym Return mode "default" bindsym Escape mode "default" } mode "$mode_gaps_inner" { bindsym plus gaps inner current plus 5 bindsym minus gaps inner current minus 5 bindsym 0 gaps inner current set 0 bindsym Shift+plus gaps inner all plus 5 bindsym Shift+minus gaps inner all minus 5 bindsym Shift+0 gaps inner all set 0 bindsym Return mode "default" bindsym Escape mode "default" } mode "$mode_gaps_outer" { bindsym plus gaps outer current plus 5 bindsym minus gaps outer current minus 5 bindsym 0 gaps outer current set 0 bindsym Shift+plus gaps outer all plus 5 bindsym Shift+minus gaps outer all minus 5 bindsym Shift+0 gaps outer all set 0 bindsym Return mode "default" bindsym Escape mode "default" } 
.bashrc
# # ~/.bashrc # [[ $- != *i* ]] && return colors() { local fgc bgc vals seq0 printf "Color escapes are %s\n" '\e[${value};...;${value}m' printf "Values 30..37 are \e[33mforeground colors\e[m\n" printf "Values 40..47 are \e[43mbackground colors\e[m\n" printf "Value 1 gives a \e[1mbold-faced look\e[m\n\n" # foreground colors for fgc in {30..37}; do # background colors for bgc in {40..47}; do fgc=${fgc#37} # white bgc=${bgc#40} # black vals="${fgc:+$fgc;}${bgc}" vals=${vals%%;} seq0="${vals:+\e[${vals}m}" printf " %-9s" "${seq0:-(default)}" printf " ${seq0}TEXT\e[m" printf " \e[${vals:+${vals+$vals;}}1mBOLD\e[m" done echo; echo done } [ -r /usshare/bash-completion/bash_completion ] && . /usshare/bash-completion/bash_completion # Change the window title of X terminals case ${TERM} in xterm*|rxvt*|Eterm*|aterm|kterm|gnome*|interix|konsole*) PROMPT_COMMAND='echo -ne "\033]0;${USER}@${HOSTNAME%%.*}:${PWD/#$HOME/\~}\007"' ;; screen*) PROMPT_COMMAND='echo -ne "\033_${USER}@${HOSTNAME%%.*}:${PWD/#$HOME/\~}\033\\"' ;; esac use_color=true # Set colorful PS1 only on colorful terminals. # dircolors --print-database uses its own built-in database # instead of using /etc/DIR_COLORS. Try to use the external file # first to take advantage of user additions. Use internal bash # globbing instead of external grep binary. safe_term=${TERM//[^[:alnum:]]/?} # sanitize TERM match_lhs="" [[ -f ~/.dir_colors ]] && match_lhs="${match_lhs}$(<~/.dir_colors)" [[ -f /etc/DIR_COLORS ]] && match_lhs="${match_lhs}$(/dev/null \ && match_lhs=$(dircolors --print-database) [[ $'\n'${match_lhs} == *$'\n'"TERM "${safe_term}* ]] && use_color=true if ${use_color} ; then # Enable colors for ls, etc. Prefer ~/.dir_colors #64489 if type -P dircolors >/dev/null ; then if [[ -f ~/.dir_colors ]] ; then eval $(dircolors -b ~/.dir_colors) elif [[ -f /etc/DIR_COLORS ]] ; then eval $(dircolors -b /etc/DIR_COLORS) fi fi if [[ ${EUID} == 0 ]] ; then PS1='\[\033[01;31m\][\h\[\033[01;36m\] \W\[\033[01;31m\]]\$\[\033[00m\] ' else PS1='\[\033[01;32m\][\[email protected]\h\[\033[01;37m\] \W\[\033[01;32m\]]\$\[\033[00m\] ' fi alias ls='ls --color=auto' alias grep='grep --colour=auto' alias egrep='egrep --colour=auto' alias fgrep='fgrep --colour=auto' else if [[ ${EUID} == 0 ]] ; then # show [email protected] when we don't have colors PS1='\[email protected]\h \W \$ ' else PS1='\[email protected]\h \w \$ ' fi fi unset use_color safe_term match_lhs sh alias cp="cp -i" # confirm before overwriting something alias df='df -h' # human-readable sizes alias free='free -m' # show sizes in MB alias np='nano -w PKGBUILD' alias more=less xhost +local:root > /dev/null 2>&1 complete -cf sudo # Bash won't get SIGWINCH if another process is in the foreground. # Enable checkwinsize so that bash will check the terminal size when # it regains control. #65623 # http://cnswww.cns.cwru.edu/~chet/bash/FAQ (E11) shopt -s checkwinsize shopt -s expand_aliases # export QT_SELECT=4 # Enable history appending instead of overwriting. #139609 shopt -s histappend # # # ex - archive extractor # # usage: ex  ex () { if [ -f $1 ] ; then case $1 in *.tar.bz2) tar xjf $1 ;; *.tar.gz) tar xzf $1 ;; *.bz2) bunzip2 $1 ;; *.rar) unrar x $1 ;; *.gz) gunzip $1 ;; *.tar) tar xf $1 ;; *.tbz2) tar xjf $1 ;; *.tgz) tar xzf $1 ;; *.zip) unzip $1 ;; *.Z) uncompress $1;; *.7z) 7z x $1 ;; *) echo "'$1' cannot be extracted via ex()" ;; esac else echo "'$1' is not a valid file" fi } #Custom programs export PATH="/home/uusePrograms/pycharm-community-2020.2.1/bin:$PATH" # Custom scritps export PATH="/home/useCustomScripts:$PATH" 

submitted by Amuoeba8 to i3wm [link] [comments]

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