Valiant Tales, lindenharp/RobinC
Feb. 28th, 2009 12:03 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
Story: Valiant Tales
Author:
lindenharp
Rating: All
Word Count: 100
Author's Summary: A series of drabbles about the people who lived, worked, and suffered on the Valiant during the Year That Never Was.
Characters: vary
Warnings: none
I can't believe these haven't been recommended before now!
lindenharp is writing a series of drabbles based upon people who were on the Valiant during the year between "Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords." Each is only 100 words, but they pack a wallop.
Here's the first one, "The Accountant's Tale":
I was an accountant in the USAF Quartermaster Corps until the new regime drafted me. When rocket factories need steel, I decide which mills must overproduce; which workers are transferred across the world.
My ancestors were Crow Indians: nomadic warriors. Their wartime triumph was counting coup: touching an armed foe with a stick, leaving him alive but humiliated.
I manage small deceptions. Redirected shipments of rice. Disappearing truckloads of blankets. Guards’ medicine going to an orphanage. If discovered, I'll be guest star on “Morning Execution”. Until then, I honor my ancestors, counting coup on the Enemy of the World.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: All
Word Count: 100
Author's Summary: A series of drabbles about the people who lived, worked, and suffered on the Valiant during the Year That Never Was.
Characters: vary
Warnings: none
I can't believe these haven't been recommended before now!
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Here's the first one, "The Accountant's Tale":
I was an accountant in the USAF Quartermaster Corps until the new regime drafted me. When rocket factories need steel, I decide which mills must overproduce; which workers are transferred across the world.
My ancestors were Crow Indians: nomadic warriors. Their wartime triumph was counting coup: touching an armed foe with a stick, leaving him alive but humiliated.
I manage small deceptions. Redirected shipments of rice. Disappearing truckloads of blankets. Guards’ medicine going to an orphanage. If discovered, I'll be guest star on “Morning Execution”. Until then, I honor my ancestors, counting coup on the Enemy of the World.