cthia wrote:
I know that it is because she is an honorable person, with morals, scruples and values. But I always questioned Honor's tendency to give captured pirateers a second chance. A second chance to commit acts like this?
runsforcelery wrote:
First, the individuals discussed in CoG are slavers, not pirates, and the two are not always the same. Among other things, pirates seldom arrange ahead of time to systematically murder their passengers/cargo. Now, admittedly, scratch a pirate and find a slaver in many cases, but not always. You might want to take a look at "Let's Dance" to see her attitude towards Manpower and slavers in general.
Second, the "second chance" she gave wasn't to the pirates, it was to the local authorities who insisted that she hand the pirates over . . . and then frequently let them go again in return for bribes or because they were actively in cahoots with the criminals in the first place. She was willing to abide by their rules and hand pirates over for trial locally only one time, despite their insistence that she was supposed to do so every time under interstellar law. Those pirates also went into her personal data base when she handed them to the locals, however; if she caught them again engaged in the piracy business, she automatically executed them. I fail to see how this is going easy on pirates?
Just saying.
Even as I was laying down that post, I realized that the slavers weren't exactly pirateers. Or privateers in the sense of Warnicke's band of misfits, which always brings to
my mind what happened to Christina "Chris" Hurlman aboard Bonaventure, when captured by said misfits. She was repeatedly raped and left
heavily traumatized.
I admit to
incorrectly categorizing both slavers and pirates together. My apology. I also admit to having been warned by a few forumites that I have to take information found on the web regarding the Honorverse with a grain of salt, especially concerning technology and its detail. I remembered reading this...
Fight against genetic slavery.
Some star nations, notably the Star Kingdom of Manticore and the Republic of Haven, had implemented a zero-tolerance policy when it came to genetic slavery. Both were signatories of the Cherwell Convention, a multi-lateral Solarian League accord which equated slavery with piracy, which in the SKM netted the death penalty.
The Manticoran and Havenite Navies had long stringently enforced anti-slavery agreements, and even a few Solarian Navy commanders did turn captured slave transports over to Manticore's or the Republic's navy. As a result, Mesa was in a long term cold war with at least these two star nations.
However, I was actually alluding to the shared
nasty tactic of slavers and privateers alike by attempting to cover their crimes by
expulsion into vacuum. I incorrectly thought that that inference was axiomatic. In no way does my sentiment attempt to downplay the horrors visited upon the members of a captured ship by pirates. On the contrary. *And what happened to Chris rubbed me in a way that many may never understand. Also the fact that Captain Sukowski had to endure, helplessly, what was happening to her, his executive officer, wrenches my heart as well.
I was also alluding to Manticore's
zero-tolerance policy. When I read that, I was ecstatic. "Yes! Get them Honor. Get those bastards. They deserve everything you do to them and more!" Even as I write this I'm tearing up. When Honor allowed them a second chance I was heartbroken. I understand and accept the reasons why she did it. But it was still nonetheless heartbreaking for me and it doesn't seem to fit with
my, probably incorrect idea of a
zero-tolerance policy.A
get out of jail free card is how I assimilate a second chance, which again does not gel with
my idea of a zero-tolerance. And if pirates know that they have not yet been caught
once, then
I feel that they will operate with even more impunity, at least until they are caught that
once. And in the face of that, what is preventing the corrupt system governments from continuously hiring new, virgin recruits without that one strike on their record?
When Honor allows a pirate a second chance, by turning them over to a corrupt system government, what goes through my mind is this...
First off I remember how difficult it is for Manticoran warships to stumble onto a pirate in the first place. Then I recall the tactics involved in actually luring one into missile range, and how often they escape. Every time they escape I think of how many victims will be abused until they are caught. Whenever they are set free for a second chance I wonder how many men aboard how many countless ships will be killed and how many women will be repeatedly raped and traumatized before caught again. And if I didn't misread it, some of them get released into the wild several times. Or Honor at least
suspected as much.
It just does not seem right, or responsible, from the vantage point of the murdered men and raped women, if they found themselves in their present predicament, because the assholes abusing them were caught, at least once, by their Star Kingdom of a zero-tolerance policy and let go, because they had a
get-outta-hell-free-card.
*
RFC. Please allow me this opportunity to provide a little background about Cthia, so that perhaps you and others can better understand the passion of my posts.
Ever since I can remember, I've had a problem handling my passion. It seemed to me that God had given me an inordinate amount. So much so, that as a kid it often embarrassed me. I went through phases of thinking it was a curse. Why can't I read books and watch tv without crying? When I watched them shoot Old Yeller, I cried, like a baby. When I saw and heard that little boy chase after
Shane in the classic western, shouting "I love you Shane. Ma loves you too. She said she did. Pa loves you too." Tears were streaming down my eyes like a waterfall. When Willie finally jumped that wall in
Free Willy my tears were not hidden by the gallons of water falling from the whale in mid flight. When Ripley showed up in that mechanized robot in
Aliens to save Newt and stated with authority and feeling "Get away from her, you bitch!" I cried like a baby.
'Get it Ripley!'While growing up, I cried in front of my many brothers and sisters, during family time watching tv. The most benign things, to others, would make me cry. Lots of times they were happy tears. My brothers didn't understand it. All they saw was a
wus. Boys and men were not supposed to cry. Certainly not over a stupid movie or a book. It had manifested itself in books as well. It endeared me to my sisters. They thought it was sweet. Of course, they are girls. But it embarrassed a little kid who often had friends over watching tv as well. My family, especially my mother and sisters, would watch me carefully during movies. I would feel all eyes surreptitiously cast a glance at me. When the tears came, my sisters would end up by my side, which made it worse.
There was an incident. A little kid around ten or so, with a daisy BB gun. I could shoot that thing like you can't imagine. I was a legend with all of my friends. It's what little boys with BB guns do. My shooting skills even now are phenomenal. My father taught me the mechanics of shooting. I have no doubt that I could have become a sniper in the military. One day I was challenged to shoot a bird that had landed on a tree limb. "He can do it. He can do it. That's easy for him." We were just little kids. It was easy, much too easy, and I knew that as I took aim. The bird looked at me. The bird looked me right in the eyes as if it was contemplating what I was about to do. It was as if the bird knew that I was about to kill it. I swear to you, I knew what that bird was thinking, "You're not going to kill me. We birds know how much you love us. You have never killed a bird. We have seen that you can't even step on bugs and ants." It was alluding to the fact that I walked with my head down as a kid, bewaring not to step on a bug or even an ant and kill it. It bothered me that much, to the point that I'd often almost fall trying to avoid it. Until my slightly older very sweet little sister couldn't take it any longer and she walked up to me outside one day and did a rain dance on a lot of pill bugs. "They're just bugs brother. They're just bugs. Stop this silliness before you hurt yourself." She knew she had hurt me and later that night she came into my room and lay down on the bed beside me with tears in her eyes. "I love you brother and I'm afraid you are going to hurt yourself or one of us trying to avoid those bugs. They're just bugs, and there are plenty of them. But I only have one favorite brother. I don't want you to get hurt, okay?" That was the moment things changed a lot for me. A plea from the teary eyes of my favorite very sweet sister. Afterwards I was able to walk without looking down. I still worried for the bugs, and it was a 12-step process for me. But I overcame that phobia. Mostly. But the intense passionate emotions that drive it has remained.
Much to my chagrin, this intense pool of passion manifests itself at every opportunity. Certain movies, even a few commercials, evoke intense emotions within me. But books always seem to me to be the most intense of emotional rides. Perhaps because the emotion captured between words, which is fueled by an individual's own imagination, can potentially be so much more intense.
A fellow forumite knows a little about what I am about to share because he emailed me and asked about my
signature...
The first time my father told me that, if I remember correctly was when my older sister, by a few years, had a sleep over and at least a dozen eleven or twelve year old girls were playing in the courtyard. I lit a 'bunch' of firecrackers and threw it in their midst. They scattered like mice, except one girl who was so afraid she froze, immobile, and wet her pants. She insisted that she be taken home. That was the first time I got the speech. My mom was angry, livid, because she and my sister had planned the sleepover for weeks, and that sister was particularly sweeter than honey. And I was so hurt that I had hurt my sister that the punishment...well, I got off way too easily. Sis had forgiven me long before I ever forgave myself. She never even screamed at me. She saw the regret in my eyes. It was one of those things that you regret as soon as it leaves your hand...but much too late. She actually felt sorry for me. I really regretted it. That poor girl cried hysterically. So, I didn't think it was a capital offense either, but believe me, the punishment I surely deserved!
I didn't mention in the email the punishment. The punishment was a month worth of weekends holed-up in my room without any of my toys, starting with the remains of that weekend. I didn't even have any books to read. My father's decree was that I not be given anything. He didn't want to be hanged, and I needed to be punished. I talked my sister into smuggling in to me a book. The only book she gave me was
A Little Princess. "What, is this the best you can do?" "Take it or leave it. It is all you are getting!" I took it. Reluctantly. And it sat there until later that night. When I finally opened its pages, I couldn't put it down! I fell in love with little Sara Crewe, and cried like a baby within those pages. It was the first evidence that books could affect me that way. I began to search those type books out, and I quickly realized, because of that book, that I was to be forever partial to any work that featured strong female characters. Even to this day. It is why I bought
OBS, because of the compelling pic of Honor holding Nimitz.
I judge books by their ability to stir up these emotions. If a book cannot bleed tears from me, it is not a success. No tears, no like.
OBS delivered for me. There it was, a strong female character, Honor, and the author's writing thrust spears into my heart. Just thinking about how Hemphill treated Honor tore me apart. Then I had to endure Honor enduring alienation from her crew. A crew that
she loved. A crew and a ship that she had looked forward to commanding. I continue to feel Honor's pain. When the crew finally came around, when they began to be proud of her, brought tears to my eyes. Even now. When McKeon finally came around I had so many tears of joy it was amazing. That entire exchange bled tears from me. When the CO Basilisk Traffic Control, Michel Reynaud, asked for more information on this Captain Harrington...
Okay, let me just say, for the umpteenth time,
OBS is in a class by itself. I reread
OBS on the river front of my town. So many people wanted to hug me. I can't hide tears well. When they realized that a book was causing the tears they maneuvered to see the title. A little girl said "Mommy, that man is crying really bad."
I've come to terms with this overabundance of passion God has given to me. I didn't understand how blessed I was until the movie
Passion of The Christ. Can you imagine someone as passionate as I deciding to watch such an emotionally charged movie like that? And I decided to do so, after apprehensively holding out, with a large group of male church members. During profound parts of the movie I was fighting tears. Battling them. Which only made them well up in my eyes like boulders. My jaws trembled and mucous was dripping from my nose as if the tears had found another route. My nose burned. That movie evoked so many emotions in me that everything I had endured during my entire cursed life of extreme passion came to a head. I became angry at the Lord. How dare he allow himself to suffer such atrocities for me. I NEVER ASKED HIM TO DO SUCH A THING. I would never ask or allow a much hated enemy to do such a thing. How dare he. How dare the Lord allow this to happen. I wasn't prepared for that movie. I wasn't. And I thought it was an even more cruel punishment that I further be set-up to endure it. God had to know how much passion he had instilled within me. God had to know what that movie would do to me. I thought I would fall apart. I thought I
was falling apart. That movie threatened to overwhelm and destroy me. When Jesus was being beaten, and he fell from the weight of the Cross, his mother, Mary's eyes did
not once turn away from her son. When he fell to the ground she also went to the ground, watching and feeling across her heart each and every strike of the cat-o-nine-tails. Each time it removed flesh from Jesus' body was an equal amount of flesh from Mary's heart. And through it all, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
I was imploding. I was simply an unidentified pile of mush. And my relationship with God went on the rocks. I was appalled that he endured such a terrible beating on my behalf, for my sins. I felt dirty, guilty. Very sinful. And very much at fault. Several days later, after gathering myself, I prayed. And I argued with God, and I asked him, "Why, why Lord would you die such a horrible death for me?" The answer came quick and clear.
"You were not around long ago when I made the decision to sacrifice my own Son for the evil deeds and sin of mankind. As your merciful God I decided to include you in the protective blood of the Lamb. But do not worry, for if you do not believe...
John 14:16
Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
then I did not die, I did not endure the atrocities, the crucifixion, for you.
From that moment on, I have felt truly blessed to be given such an intense overabundance of passion. A weight had been lifted. Now it gives me such joy, and life can be experienced in ways I think is missing from others that aren't as fortunate. Finally I know that it is a rare blessing. How could I ever have thought that it was a curse?
When reading your books, RFC, the characters come alive. They impact me emotionally in ways that I now hope that you can understand.
Please do not feel that I make judgments on you or your fictional world beyond its fictional nature. If it ever seems that I am casting aspersions on you; Oh no, no, no! I would never! For a reader to associate certain character virtues, or a character's decisions, or any incidents within the author's fictional world to him is ridiculous!
And RFC, Cthia is
not one to question the validity of the physics or anything likewise in an author's fictional universe. I stated as much in a post long ago. I don't know how people who watch tv, movies or read books in that fashion can enjoy it. It doesn't bother me that when Superman caught Lois Lane, that realistically the sudden stop should have killed her. Perhaps Superman was able to adjust his vector to match that of Lois', unseen by the naked eye. Whatever! If an author has to validate the physics, religion, morals, scruples and values of his world, how in the universe is he ever going to get his book published?! This is one reader that you do
not owe those type of explanations to.
And if you create characters that get under my skin, that I'd like to place my boot so far up their ass (Pavel Young) that they need a neurosurgeon to remove it, that make decisions in which I do not agree, then blame that on your excellent character development, not on any aspersions cast towards you. I like book discussions, and I've mentioned that many times. The one-liners thread has sort of morphed into an opportunity to do so, in a limited fashion. But I must be allowed my own opinions, that may not gel with other posters
or the author.
Above all be true to thine self.All of this was simply to lead into the fact that my niece is sad. She thinks that she got me into trouble because the idea of the last thread came from her. She takes all of her lessons seriously and she dove into her assignment with gusto, which led her to inquiring about the Mueller Middle School kids. And, because she knew, in fact she led with it in her email "Uncle, I know that the kids dying in the Mueller Middle School Dome Project hurt you very much. I wish I could have been there to console you when you read it."
All of my family knows how such things impact me. She never intended to cause so much trouble she says. My sister is now concerned as to what would have happened if
she would have initiated the thread. I am glad that it was me instead. She no longer wishes to attend HonorCon. She just feels guilty. That makes me sad because she loves the Honorverse, and the fact that we have it so much in common.
I also have to admit that I almost decided not to respond to your post, out of apprehension and not feeling that I can voice
my opinion. And hitting the submit button won't be easy.
Please, everyone forgive the length and any unintended offense.
Edit:
I did shoot that bird. but it didn't come emotionally easy. I took bead on it, but I just couldn't shoot. It was just too easy. So I began to make loud noises for it to fly away. The darn bird wouldn't fly away. Have you ever known a bird not to fly away in the presence of so much noise? The bird had looked into the windows of my soul and did not see a killer. He finally took flight and I shot him out of the air. I received so much praise. Funny, I didn't feel like praise and I quickly made an excuse to go home cause I knew that would disperse my friends. I made my way back to the murder and held the bird in my hands through tears. Did you know that birds die with their eyes open, at least that one did? I buried him. I have never truly gotten over it.
I have not watched
Passion of the Christ a second time yet.
.
. If it makes you feel any better, I absolutely refuse to listen to it while I am driving. 
