Negligient Discharge
A Hogswatch short hopefully in two parts
V0.2 Inspired by reading about Christmas/midwinter gift-giving traditions around the world.
I'm not sure if this translates well out of Roundworld – the stated reason why the Russian Orthodox Church does the gift-giving thing on the 7th January (by our calendar) is the historical fact that Russia retained the old Julian calendar, at least for religious purposes, when the rest of Europe adopted the Gregorian. So under the old calendar, December 25th in Russia came a fortnight later than in western Europe. I've also got that this has been junked and Russia today has the same official calendar as everyone else. Also, the cultural thing is that possibly as a hangover from the USSR, New Year is a lot more significant for the gift-giving/celebration thing whilst modern Russia does appear to do its gift-exchanging earlier than the 7th Jan. January 7th also more or less coincides with the archaic Western thing of Twelfth Night, which only survives as a Shakespeare play and a minor celebration in the Church of England's religious calendar. (Feast of the Epiphany)
Anyway, the idea of "Rodinia" being 14 days out of step with Ankh-Morpork fired this "what-if" speculation…
The timescale will be the Hogswatch immediately after the resolution of the Syrritan Emergency and the almost-war with Klatch detailed in The Price of Flight. It also alludes to events plotted, but not yet written for, the overlapping work Strandpiel 2 (epic novel in progress). However, two early chapters of Strandpiel 2 foreshadow a coming event in the life of Irena Politek which will be referenced here – this story will be a small spoiler to a coming chapter of S2.
Pseudopolis Yard, the 8th January.
"Okay." Commander Sir Samuel Vimes said, taking a deep breath. He glared at the other people present in the room, in a way that wordlessly made it clear he wasn't amused with this. Not one little bit. It involved un-necessary Paperwork, for one thing. He glowered at the Watch officers present in the Commander's office, making it clear he was not amused or happy.
The invited personnel stood rigidly at attention. To a man and a woman, there was a consensus that this was, for the moment, safest.
Vimes took a deep breath. It had not escaped his attention that at least two of his officers appeared to be somewhat hungover and, judging from the way they were casting sideways glances at the third, they were not comfortable with having been summoned to what really amounted to a disciplinary.
Some sort of cultural thing last night, Vimes reminded himself. They got together to swing the night off and drew straws to see who got the dogsbody job of being on duty. And when these people throw a party, they throw it so hard people in the next city hear the bang.
Sam Vimes glowered at the one Rodinian officer who had drawn the Duty of commanding the Air Watch the previous night.
Senior Lieutenant Irena Politek looked back, impassively. Vimes noted that she, at least, was not hungover.
"Vetinari is being sarcastic." Vimes said. "High Priest Ridcully was not a happy High Priest. Not at all. And all this happened on your watch, Irena. Worst of all, I have had to convene this bloody Court of Inquiry at very short notice to try to establish what happened, why it happened, what we propose to do about it, and to reassure several very influential people that it will not happen again."
He drew breath.
"So. Who would like to start? You might want to begin with why you flew that broomstick, mounting those weapons, on a routine patrol over the City, when I thought I had made it abundantly bloody well clear that this sort of weaponry is not to be deployed on everyday police work."
He glowered at Irena again. To her left and right, her colleagues, Captain Olga Romanoff and Lieutenant Nadezhda Popova, threw her looks of mingled sympathy and irritation.
"Sir." Irena replied. She began her report into the previous night's affair.
The City Watch Air Station, the night of January 7th. Approximately 10:00pm.
Senior Lieutenant Irena Politek looked out over the night skies from the vantage point offered from the Clacks tower. This had deliberately been built tall, a lot taller than the norm, to allow for the best possible line-of-sight over the Isle of Gods and as far as was possible, over the wider City.
She reflected that even built to this height and capitalising on most of its structure being supported by the walls and roof-beams of Pseudopolis Yard, there were still blind spots. The upper walls and roofscape of the Tanty Prison blocked line-of-sight to the direct Turnwise; and the Opera House was simply too tall in the Hubwards-by-Widdershins direction.
For this reason, back in the days before introducing the Omnicon communicator system and centralised control, it had only been a makeshift, provisional, means of directing the Air Watch. Getting somebody up here meant a vertiginous climb up a series of Navy-style staircases and ladders, for one thing. You had to be fit. And to relay information down to the landing deck, nearly a hundred feet below, you had to shout.
The third reason, Irena reflected, as she scanned the night sky, was that a Clacks tower that was effectively tacked onto the outside face of Pseudopolis Yard, partly built into the main wall but with two of its supporting pillars resting onto the Air Station, wasn't exactly discreet.(1) It would be a priority target, and a very obvious thing to aim at and take out, if the Klatchians had ever invaded Ankh-Morpork.
Even so, even after Command and Control had moved to a purpose-built and shielded room inside the building, this was still called the Control Tower. The new system, the brand-new system, had receptors built onto the roof here, which relayed information down to the new operator consoles in Control. Irena could see one of them if she leant out over the rail and leant backwards to look up: a large strange-looking Device, reminding her of a bed's mattress frame twisted into a concave dish. This was angled directly towards the University, where the Mainframe was. Irena's magical senses twitched. The whole set-up felt, somehow, differently alive. It also felt too much like Wizard magic. She tried to stop herself thinking that way, but at heart she was a Witch. Old prejudices died hard. Some things were built in.
She frowned; if a possible enemy, say the Klatchians, got an understanding of its importance, the Control Tower was still a big target. She made a note to discuss defence measures with Olga, Hanna and Nadezhda at the next officers' conference. Then she remembered Gertrude. Who had some very good ideas. Gertrude Schilling had stepped up a lot and was going a long way to filling the gap left by Nottie Garlick moving to a new job.
Irena reminded herself why she was up here, and why she'd slogged up a lot of nearly vertical steps and rungs to get there.
After events earlier in the year – okay then, last year – Klatch was less of a problem. They'd been conclusively defeated in the air over Syrrit and there'd been a change of attitude in their government.(2) After that, there'd been the Howondaland business that had meant the Pegasus Service and the Air Watch had needed to be present for diplomatic reasons, and to help a troubled border region settle down into something approximating peace. (3) An almost-war followed by a peacekeeping mission.
Lessons had been learnt and the Air Watch had gone from strength to strength, with more investment – practically an open cheque now, which had paid the University for the new control system – and after favourable publicity, a lot more recruits. Hanna von Strafenburg was over in Chirm right now, at the training base, putting a dozen Air Witches through The Punisher. Even with the far better crew facilities there, it was still January.
Irena exchanged a few pleasantries with the Clacks crew, remembering that this was still a working Clacks station and these were still Grand Trunk employees, albeit ones who had needed security clearance. Then she remembered what she was up here to do, and studied the sky.
"Getting on for six-tenths cloud." she said, thoughtfully. "Generally dry but with periodic snow flurries. Safe for flying, but could get worse later."
The senior clacksman cleared his throat. He was an older man, a grandfather to a family that was largely girls, and one who used this specialised knowledge to deal with the young Witches of the Air Watch.(4)
"Met Office report came in, Miss Irena." he said. "I was going to get one of the lads to run it down to the office for you."
Irena studied the clacks. The Meteorological Office had been born the previous year after a particularly bad winter, and was based at the University. Research wizards of a particular bent staffed it along with the usual sort of self-educated weather buffs, people who had been interested all their lives, who had built useful knowledge, and had grabbed the chance to make a career out of weather forecasting. Today they clacksed out a forecast three times a day to interested end-users, such as the Grand Trunk, the Post Office, the Rail Ways, the Navy, and of course the Air Watch.
Irena scanned the report, noting the prediction was heavier snow flurries by midnight, going perhaps to snow showers, but that this was not expected to impede the normal operation of the City. She decided to send the latest report out by comms to all pilots in the air, which at the moment meant everybody.
She noted at most it would get to Local Winter Storm Scale Three, and remembered that at the same time the previous year it had gone off the scale at nine or ten. That had caused problems. (5)
At least we got Mr Vimes to pay for winter wear, after the business a year ago. This time of year everybody gets an ushanka and a shuba coat and valenki, as well as flying goggles and gloves. As we said to him, Rodinian winter clothing, da. But we Rodinians know winter. Lots of practice. The Ankh-Morpork Inquirer can complain all it likes. They are not the ones who are a thousand feet up at midnight in January. (6)
Irena moved to the side of the operating platform, trying not to get in the way of Clacksmen who were relaying messages. They had their job to do, after all, independently of the Watch, where their Tower happened to be. She leant on one of the side rails and looked out over Ankh-Morpork, judging the bearing was a little bit Hubwards of Widdershins. If she was flying, she'd have called it Bearing Eighty, a course correction to eighty degrees deosil of due Hubwards. And over there, maybe two thousand miles away, would be…
Old Robbie, the senior clacksman, gave her an understanding look. Air Watch news and gossip filtered to the top of the tower, eventually. He would know why Irena was taking a quiet moment, looking out into the night in the direction of Zlobenia and Far Überwald, taking a quiet moment to consider a little complication that had arisen in her life. Up until recently, Irena Politek had never wanted to be anywhere else than in the Air Watch and her life here was something she gave single-minded devotion to. She tried to tell herself nothing had changed in that respect and she was still, first and foremost, Air Watch. Everything else in her life had to fit around that.
The only problem was, up until recently that had been easy. There really hadn't been too much else outside a demanding but fulfilling job, and the inescapable other stuff that came from being a witch. No distractions.
Now life was getting more complicated.
"Reckon you're first in line for leave after tonight, Miss Irena." Old Robbie said, sympathetically. "Big celebration night for your people. Captain Olga knows you're the one who had to be here in command with the short straw. She'll see you right."
"Da." Irena said, thinking of distant Pskov and what was there for her. It was a nagging ache. She also understood tonight was for families. Olga and Nadezhda were both married with five kids between them. They should have priority for tonight off. No question. The single woman should mind the shop. And with Hanna commanding a training squadron in Chirm, Stacey in charge at the Lancre air station, Nottie having been seconded to other duties for a year, and with only one other NCO who could conceivably have been stepped up to acting commander for tonight. Who had other duties she was better suited for. Well, that only left Irena.
"Nichevo." Irena said, eventually. She appreciated the old man had not vocalised the spill words. "Thank you, Robbie."
The communicator in Irena's top pocket buzzed. She activated it.
~~Penguin Control to Red Star. Come in, Red Star.
"Red Star here. Go ahead, Penguin."
~~Unidentified trace on screen, Red Star. Large discharge of magic approaching from Hubwards by Widdershins on bearing two-twenty. Could be a Code Twenty-Three. Commanding officer urgently needed in Control Room. Over.
"Responding, Penguin. Red Star out."
Irena moved quickly to the ladders. She paused.
"Watch the widdershins sky for me, Robbie? Anything unusual, shout down. Thanks."
She scrambled down the ladders and steep stairways, quickly but without haste, then ran across the landing deck to Control.
She let her eyes acclimatise to the relative gloom and the different sort of light, tinged with green and octarine, taking in the glow from the new Control screens and the air of quiet efficiency in the room. She moved to the central consoles.
"What's up, Penguin?"
Technical Sergeant Gertrude Schilling, the Air Watch's all-purpose Engineering Officer, Intelligence Officer and one who now went halfway to filling the vital support role of Adjutant, glanced up from the Control screen.
Irena found herself again wondering how they'd managed for so long with a single Omniscope screen that had barely been the size of an opened-out book. The new screens were something which even a year ago would have been an unimaginable step forward.
And they had Gertrude to thank for this. She and Ponder Stibbons had figured out how to make brand-new Omniscopes, to any size the customer wanted.(7) This in turn had made the Seeing-Eye Ray more than just a theoretical possibility or a limited desk-top curiosity.
"Long-range Seeing Eye Ray Screen Widdershins, covering the approaches to the City as far out as Skund and Far Überwald." Gertrude said, indicating the large display. "Sorry everything on the other side of Skund is still dark. But that place does something to the signal. Bit of a blind spot."
"Understood." Irena said. She picked up the single large unmistakeable trace of a moving aerial object, glowing in green and octarine, making a steady and deceptively slow course. Every time the sweeping arm of the Ray system ticked over it like a single hand on a clock, it glowed brighter.
"As far as I can tell, it came out of Far Überwald." Gertrude said. Irena noted how the usually hesitant and diffident Gertrude Schilling became absolutely confident in her own space, that of advanced technomancy. This was her world. Even if she was still an indifferent pilot. She had skills here that made her a highly effective Control officer. The girls had called her Penguin as an affectionate joke – a flightless bird. It had stuck and become her callsign.
"It's coming this way." Irena reflected. "How long before it's over the city?"
"At this height and bearing. Maybe forty-five minutes to an hour."
""So it's unidentified?" Irena probed. "It's not, for instance, a Klatchian commercial carpet from New Pork or Genua that's strayed off the flight-path?"
Gertrude shook her head.
"We know their flight schedules." she said. "KC801 out of Genua isn't due for another hour. The crew are experienced and know their flight-path. And that configuration of signal is wrong for a carpet. Wrong shape and too intense."
Irena, who just saw a moving bright green blob that looked like any other moving bright green blob, didn't ask how Gertrude was so sure.
"You said Code Twenty-Three?" Irena probed.
"Definite magical discharge." Gertrude said. "It's in the air and it's nothing we can identify. Might even be a God out for a joy-ride. We just don't know."
Irena frowned.
"Okay. Who've we got who can intercept?" she asked.
Gertrude shook her head.
"Nobody. Everybody's up there, including reserves."
Irena ran the numbers. All Rodinian pilots were on leave because of the Day. Except me. Four other pilots on leave. Five Pegasus pilots on various missions around the world. A full squadron, or perhaps a fighting coven, of thirteen, out in Chirm for combat training. Three pilots at Lancre. A skeleton overnight shift at the Zoo Station with the Heavies. Which were not night-adapted air vehicles. Six on attachment to the Navy as part of a Naval Air Cover experiment. Seven off sick. Winter flying took a toll on pilots.
"Also, a lot of our Feegle on home leave. Same for the Teks." Gertrude added. "Limited cover for craw-stepping and the Teks are behind on maintenance."
"Nichevo." Irena said. "I'll have to go up myself on this one. Which means you're in charge till I get back, Penguin."
"Chirm could get a patrol up." Gertrude said, practically. "Although they're further away from this than we are and by the time they're in the air, it'll be nearer to us."
Irena reflected that Chirm and Lancre had not yet had Seeing-Eye Ray technomancy installed. She reflected this would not be a bad idea. Forward stations could see even further. If Chirm had been aware, they'd have responded quickly, and intercepted whatever this was, a lot further out.
"Get Hanna." Irena instructed. "Brief her. I'll keep an open channel. I'm going to see if I can scramble up a two-seater. Damn and govno, I'll need an observer. Keep me informed."
Irena quickly picked up her necessary flying kit and ran to check out a two-seater. She wondered who she could grab as an observer. It didn't have to be a Witch or a pilot. She knew this from running two-seater patrols. She was about to put the shout out for her preferred patrol partner, Valentina Tereschova, then reflected Sergeant Tereschova was Rodinian. And of course had the night off…. Nichevo. Any regular Ground Watch person with a head for heights would do. They'd proven that, to the satisfaction of Mr Vimes and Captain Romanoff.
She went to the Tek hangar to grab a broom. In extremis, she could take a Tek up. They were solid people, usually Dwarfs, but with a growing number of Goblins. She frowned. Dwarfs and air-travel didn't usually go together. Great people on the ground, though.
She frowned again when she saw who else had insinuated his way into the Tek-hangar. It happened a lot. He was crazy about flight and managed to get every issue of Air Pictorial and Flight Monthly. Olga tolerated this, provided he didn't get in the way too much.
"Got nowhere else to be, Nobby?" Irena asked, pointedly.
Corporal Nobby Nobbs, a seemingly ageless relic of an older City Watch, beamed excitedly at her.
"Quiet night, Miss Irena." he said, cheerfully. "Mr Sikkorskisson's been showin' me the new MK108 double repeating crossbow and how it works. You know, the ones where you can fit a high-brisant exploding head into the bolt, so it goes off seriously bang when it hits, like firin' a rocket! Real dakka!"
"Has he." Irena said, taking a deep breath.
She glared at Tek Sikorskisson, who looked abashed.
"Mr Sikorskisson, make yourself useful. I need a fast two-seater, air ready, immediately."
"Errr…" the Tek said.
Irena doubled her glare.
"Anything wrong, Mr Sikorskisson?"
"We just got the one at the moment, ma'am." The Dwarf said. "Sergeant von Strafenburg booked most of the airworthy one-tens out to go to Chirm, two are in Lancre, then we've got five down for maintenance, and, errr…"
Irena looked down at the one flightworthy two-seater left in service.
"Fuel it." she ordered. "Davaii!"
She watched the Teks go about a full magical charge, hooking the broomstick up to the thaumic transformer that could distil magic out of the Disc's standing field and fully charge a broom within minutes. She understood the procedure, refined over the years and using Wizard-devised thaumomancy, was now as safe as it could be after a few early catastrophes. Ponder Stibbons had been involved in making safe, after the accident that had killed Dorothy Culpclapper. This reassured her; Ponder had a reputation for getting it right. Even so, watching the thick cables being attached to the broom and feeling the octarine sizzle, tasting the tin on the air, it could still make her shudder. A bad memory, Irena.
She considered the other thing.
"I need to be in the air instantly." she said. "I also need an air observer. I have no time to be choosy."
She extended a finger at Nobby Nobbs. Nobby tried to sidle away. A Witch pointing her finger at you was not what anyone wanted. The finger followed him, remorselessly.
"You." she said. "I may come to regret this. But I know you like being in the air. You are a Watchman. You are, at the moment, all I've got…"
She nodded to a Goblin tech.
"Find Corporal Nobbs a flying helmet, gloves, and goggles." she said. "A cloak of some sort, too. It's cold up there."
Then she made a decision she would later come to regret.
"Nyet. No time. Leave the weapons in place." she said, indicating the fore-and-aft repeating crossbows on the ME-110.
Irena stepped forward, and made diligently, absolutely, completely, sure the rear-facing weapon was unloaded. She nodded.
"Get on board, corporal. Rear-facing seat. Strap yourself in. And you Teks, open the hangar door."
She tapped her communicator. Tek Sikkorskisson politely handed her an equipment pack. She knew from the weight it carried magazine loads for the weapons. They could be loaded in flight, if necessary. She hoped this would not prove necessary, and stowed the pack. She considered again and re-stowed it in a place where Nobby could not easily reach.
"Red Star to Penguin Control. Interceptor mission about to take off. My aircrew is…" she paused. "Call-sign Gremlin. Red Star out."
She started her take-off from inside the hangar. It was fastest. A few seconds later, Red Star and Gremlin were arcing out over the flight-deck and taking to the skies, Ankh-Morpork falling away beneath them. She heard Nobby whoop exultantly, and sighed. Nichevo.
Pseudopolis Yard, the 8th January. The next morning.
Sam Vimes glared at her.
"You took Nobby." he said, flatly. "As aircrew. And you sat him behind a powerful weapon. One his grubby sticky little fingers could not resist playing with."
He glared at Nobby Nobbs, who squirmed away.
"There was nobody else, Mr Vimes." Irena said. "Removing the weapons from the aircraft would have delayed take-off. Vital minutes lost in a possible emergency. And I needed a flight observer quickly. A second pair of eyes. And we have agreed a regular Ground Watch member can fly as an observer on a two-seater when there is a need. It enhances operational efficiency."
"Well, yes." Vimes said. "So long as it's somebody like Sergeant Tereschova. Or that Education Officer of yours. Sergeant Garianova. She's steady. But. Nobby?"
Vimes' tone of voice said that the name Nobby Nobbs did not belong in the same paragraph as a term like operational efficiency.
"What gets me is that you took very great care to make sure that weapon was unarmed." Vimes remarked. "And I know you, Irena. You would have made sure of that before you let Nobby anywhere near it."
Vimes looked puzzled.
"Irena, on those two-seaters with the upgunned armament. You stow the spare ammo magazines where both crew can reach them, don't you? There's a rack, in the space between the seats, and you reach back?"
He glared at Nobby.
"Wasn't me, Mr Vimes! Honest!"
Irena shook her head.
"Nyet, Mr Vimes. There was no time. Quite properly, an ammunition issue was made to me as I was investigating an unidentified flying object entering City airspace. We had to cover all possibilities. I took custody of four fully loaded magazines which were in a backpack. That remained with me. When we returned to the Air Station, I checked in four loaded mags, untouched. The issue log will reflect that."
Vimes nodded his acceptance of this.
"So how did…"
He left the sentence unfinished, but glared at Nobby again.
"I'm coming to that now, Mr Vimes." Irena said.
Dolly Sisters, Ankh-Morpork, on the night of January 7th. Approximately 11:00pm.
Irena quickly ascended over the City, gaining height. She was still unclear as to how Gertrude did it, but her estimated height for the intruder was a thousand feet, one angel. Gertrude Schilling had never been wrong on this.(8)
~~Penguin Control to Red Star. Got a trace on you. Adjust bearing to forty-five from Hubwards. This should bring you on a direct heading for the UFO which appears to have stopped in place and is just hovering. Estimated location for UFO is at Brunswick-am-Sour in the Sour Valley. Currently two hundred miles away. Estimate if it continues on course your paths will converge in maybe an hour. Over.
"Red Star acknowledging…Nobby, stop doing that?"
~~Penguin Control, this is Kestrel. Reporting as yet unidentified Watch two-seater on my port side, bearing two-seventy at angels one. I don't know if they're listening but if that observer doesn't stop pointing that crossbow at me and making "dakka-dakka!" noises, then I'm going to really slap them one…
"OK, Kestrel, it's me. Red Star. All weapons are made safe. I'll talk to my observer. Over."
~~Penguin Control to Red Star. The UFO is moving again and has resumed previous course and direction. Confirm you should fly on bearing forty-five at angels one to intercept. Over.
"Nobby? Stop doing that, will you? Just in case you haven't noticed, she's on our side?" Irena composed herself. "Penguin Control, course acknowledged. Seeking permission for Kestrel to come under my operational command, Control. We'll have to leave her patrol beat unattended for however long this takes. Over."
~~This is Valkyrie, to Penguin Control and Red Star. Come in, Red Star. Over.
Hanna's voice sounded crackly and muffled, as if it was coming from further away.
"Red Star here. Read you, Valkyrie. Over."
~~Valkyrie to Red Star and Penguin Control. Report that I am acting on your briefing and I am leading a flight out of Chirm. I am currently leading on bearing three-fifty out of Chirm and I estimate on full speed we can be with you in fifty minutes. Requesting course corrections for rendezvous. Over."
Irena frowned. "Full Speed" meant Hanna was applying over-rides and deliberately going turbo, overclocking her brooms. This wasn't something you could get away with for very long and meant more work for the Teks afterwards.
But she's going to be here soon with a Flight…
"Use of turbo is approved, Valkyrie." Irena said. "But drop to normal speeds when you RZ. Red Star out."
She glanced over her shoulder. Nobby was still enthusiastically playing with the multiple repeating crossbow unit, swinging it round, getting into firing positions, and making "Dakka-dakka!" noises. In the background, Pilot Officer Shirley Bramdean, Kestrel, was pointedly steering clear of the rear of Irena's broom, but keeping station.
Irena shook her head and led the way, out over Dolly Sisters and then over the sprawl of New Ankh. She felt it was going to be a long night. Periodically she took comms updates. Then she sensed the dark sky immediately in front of her was, in some intangible way, getting lighter.
"Red Star to all units. Stand by."
She took the acknowledgments. Then she scanned the lighter spot on the horizon, recognising the presence of octarine, and waited.
~~Sunray to Red Star.
Irena winced. It had been a good idea at the time to give him an Omnicon. According to Drumknott, it fascinated him. He liked listening to the chatter of the airwaves as he worked, apparently. The Air Watch had accepted this, and got on with the job. Olga and Irena viewed this as good PR with regard to ongoing funding.
"Red Star responding. Go ahead, Sunray."
~~I note the commendable speed of your response to the intruder. I request that you keep me informed and updated as to the situation. In the meantime I will be listening attentively. Sunray out.
"Acknowledged, Sunray. Red Star out."
Irena looked across to where Kestrel was keeping station. They exchanged nods. She heard Nobby make another dakka-dakka-dakka!" noise from behind her and sighed resignedly, wondering how she'd got herself into this mess.
I joined the Air Watch, of course. Back in the day, when it was just two or three Feegle and two Witches who brought their own broomsticks. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Wondering about splitting the story here and going to Part Two, where all will be revealed and hopefully concluded – watch this space! (Again, it ran away and got long)
(1) A very good engineering architect had run those support pillars down through the flat roof and rooted them into the ground below, in the Watch's main stables for its more conventional horses. The City Watch clacks tower was hailed as a masterpiece of design when it came to erecting tall, stable, structures.
(2) see The Price of Flight.
(3) As yet unwritten but to be covered in Strandpiel Book Two
(4) He took care to know everybody's birthday, wrote cards, and dispensed kindly advice.
(5) Britain has no official scale for measuring the intensity of snow, as we rarely get it. We just have vague categories such as "flurries" leading to "showers" then to "storms" and then to "blizzards". The USA, probably out of necessity, has first the Local Winter Storm Scale and when this runs out, the North-East Snow Intensity Scale.
(6) TheAnkh-Morpork Inquirerhad complained the previous summer about the way foreigners, specifically Rodinians, were taking over the Air Watch and deplored the fact they even dressed foreign. Commander Vimes had pointed out that Rodinians had been in there right from the start of the Air Watch. They'd founded it, in fact. Therefore if they wanted to wear fur hats and Cossack cloaks when they were two thousand feet up in sub-zero temperatures, that was fine by him.
(7) to the Price of Flight, where Gertrude comes into her own as a technomancer and a counter-technomancy specialist in the tech war with Klatch
(8) The first RAF radar operators got to be good at this too. There was a formula and a scientific method for estimating the height of the aircraft displaying a radar trace: but a significant number used intuition and guesswork based on experience, and tended to get it just as right.
Notes Dump:
And having written all that stuff at the start, I now discover my favourite Russian musicians, Otava Yo, are doing two gigs in Leningrad which are specifically billed as "Festive Christmas concerts". On the 15th January 2022. Now I'm really confused – Christmas in Russia goes on this late?