Pirate Rage Launch

Okay, let's try this again.
Sorry for the mix up folks. Goodlifeguide,com and I extend our sincerest apologies.

Anyway, Pirate Rage:

   Pieces of the Federation are starting to come together. Star systems are joining the alliance, if only in self defense against the Horathian Pirates. Civilization and the fruits of modern medicine, education, and industry are starting to take root all throughout the sector.

   But the Pirates will is indomitable where the Fleet is weakest. They have found just such a weak spot and they have unleashed their wrath onto the defenseless world and its population.

   The Fleet must break their grip on the member world then chase them across the sector to stop them from fleeing with their ill gotten gains. Stopping them seems all but impossible, but that isn't the only thing Fleet Admiral Irons and his people have to worry about.

   They also have to worry about the Pirate's Rage being inflicted on the helpless worlds they are sworn to protect...

On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Pirate-Rage-Federation-Reborn-Book-ebook/dp/B019NZR4HY/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1450807817&sr=1-6

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pirate-rage-chris-hechtl/1123155337?ean=2940157763091
I am fixing the Nook version now that they are allowing me to do so.

If you have already downloaded it, try refreshing it or delete and re-download it. Again, sorry about the misstep folks!

Or as a famous guy says: "Dout!"

A funny thing happened as I was checking my email today...

   ... I was apparently being a 'cheeky monkey' (Grin) to Jory and up popped a email from a familiar sender, one highly anticipated. Goodlifeguide.com came through and I received Pirate Rage! All formatted and....
It's been uploaded. I just finished it. :)

 

So, without further ado, I am publishing Pirate Rage NOW.

 

Merry Christmas!

 

I'll put the links up in another blog post in the morning when they go hot.

EDIT:
I just found out about the highlight problem. I let Goodlifeguide.com know. They apologized and are working on the problem now. She said a new manuscript is on it's way.
So, sorry about fumbling the launch folks!

http://www.amazon.com/Pirate-Rage-Federation-Reborn-Book-ebook/dp/B019NZR4HY/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1450807817&sr=1-6

PR ch 1 snippet 3

Still in Chapter 1:

Admiral Von Berk stared, hands behind his back as the exercise commenced. He'd always been a stickler for doing things right, and today was no exception. He was the referee. The cruisers and destroyers were divided up more or less evenly.

His people hadn't taken their roles seriously, at least not at first. Those from the Gather Fleet had been contemptuous of the civilians. Those transfers from Home Fleet had more fleet training, but it had been in feel-good exercises that you tended to know the outcome in advance. Scripted deals to handle the politics of the fleet.

Oh, sometimes there had been upsets. Sometimes someone got a little too full of themselves and had broken ranks and won an engagement they had been projected to lose. The winner had received a brief spat of public recognition but privately those who had lost had sharpened their knives or put a black mark in their ledger. Even those not involved had marked them down as unacceptable.

That was changing however. The discovery of El Dorado had kick-started the next phase of the great plan. The discovery of a Federation Naval presence in their own backyard had also come as something of an unwelcome shock. When news of the losses their side had suffered reached the fleet, it had created a shake-up.

Now they were training more. Treating it less as a game, less as a chest pounding match, or an opportunity to put an upstart in his place. For those like him, he treated it seriously, as seriously as the life and death struggle it was supposed to be. His people had quickly learned that before they'd gotten past Garth that he meant business.

Their recent captures had carried news with them, news of more losses for the Horathian empire. The admiral and his staff had carefully gone over every report to tease out as much detail as they could. There had been a recent ship passing through with detailed news reports that had made the task easier.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow to see both Admiral Cartwright and Admiral Rico taken down. They'd seemed like amateurs, taken down so easily. Taken down by forces numerically inferior to their own. Forces that were outgunned but apparently far from outmatched. It had lent a certain appeal to renew the exercises with a fresh coat of realism, hence the current exercise in progress.

Maya was a sneaky devil. He'd signed off on her addition to his exercise plan just to see how his ships would react. It should be good he thought.

Apache was doing well, but loosing Jean Lafitte had cost her in points. Eliza's insistence on initially ignoring Adventure Galley and Calico Jack to focus on the tin cans had allowed her to take them out. Jean had also wounded Calico before she'd been taken down.

For this engagement, and to make things even, he'd signed off on Adventure Galley being rated as an HC so the two flagships were evenly matched. But Eliza's attritioning of the other side's tin cans might prove telling as the engagement commenced.

He smiled thinly as Adventure Galley and Calico Jack broke off, attempting to get clear to gain time for Calico Jack to lick her virtual wounds. Unfortunately for them they weren't keeping together as tightly as they could. As the minutes passed, the wounded light cruiser fell further and further behind.

Was it a bait? Or sacrifice? He wasn't sure. He watched as Eliza's two destroyers latched onto her from the rear. It was a stern chase, but with the prey already wounded, it wasn't a simple run as Cory had thought, he realized.

Captain Cory realized his error and his ship heaved to, slacking her speed in order to let her sister ship catch up. But the tin cans exchanged fire from long-range, crippling her further. He turned and made a note.

More virtual weapon fire began to rain back from Adventure Galley as she tried to drive the Nelson and Antelope off her division mate.

But then Apache was there, suddenly putting on a burst of speed to swoop in. She instantly drew the fire from the other two ships. But she was a heavy cruiser, designed to take such punishments. And while she did she thundered back, tearing into Calico Jack, rolling to put the ship between her and Adventure Galley's simulated fire.

Meanwhile the two tin cans had continued their attack on the already wounded light cruiser completely unmolested or contested. Something gave and the light cruiser's drive cut out. His eyes glittered. Her turrets went down after a moment. His eyes cut to the status board, and he nodded at what he saw. Calico Jack was a dead stick; she'd lost her fight for life.

Eliza smoothly covered for her two tin cans as they moved outside of Adventure Galley's engagement envelope. She now had three ships to his one. His was unwounded while her trio had various states of injuries. As he watched the simulated repairs began to take place, bringing the ships back up to … he tapped out an order and drew a line. There, he thought, eyes flicking to Eliza's image on the bridge. He'd cut her off at 80 percent. She'd have to make do with that. She also had fuel and ammunition problems he noted.

He wondered briefly if she realized them. Too many times people in sims forgot fuel and munitions during the engagement. Many times they totally ignored them. Unfortunately, some of the more politically connected officers had written backdoor programs to allow that to happen. It was unrealistic, and a trend he wanted to end.

As he wool gathered, Apache and her consorts regrouped and then swung back in to finish the job. The two tin cans were on either flank, with the Nelson Arrogant between Adventure Galley and the other ships. He frowned thoughtfully. Nelsons were geared as fleet defense ships, but Arrogant hadn't served as such. He wasn't sure if she could handle the task. Finally, he grunted. It didn't matter. She was a missile sponge; she'd soak up Adventure Galley's incoming fire while the others pounded their opponent into wreckage.

“Anytime now,” he muttered, checking the clock and then the plot. He wondered if Maya had gotten herself out of position. He also wondered which side she'd throw herself against.

His thoughts were cut off as the final engagement began. Was Maya holding off … he frowned, checking the plot. When he didn't see her on the plot, he scowled then caught himself. She had deliberately kept her two squadrons dark, shutting down the IFF so CIC wouldn't alert Eliza. Slowly he nodded. It sucked for him but …

He grinned as Adventure Galley staggered. But as she staggered, so too did Arrogant. The Nelson went adrift, out of the game. Two against one, everyone wounded, but …

He blinked in shock just like everyone else as the fighters came in. One moment it was the void; the next the two squadrons were coming in from opposite directions. They scissored across all three opponents, tearing into them with virtual missiles and energy weapons. With their shields already battered and most of their energy focused on keeping the shields up between themselves and the enemy they knew, the opposite shields were overloaded and went down in a series of sparks. He winced and hoped it was more simulated damage, explaining any real damage was going to be tough enough he thought.

But such thoughts occupied only a corner of his mind as the two squadrons did their job. Like piranha they tore into their much larger prey, and their bites added up. The Antelope went down immediately, then Adventure Galley, and finally Apache.

“I'm never going to hear the end of this I suppose,” the admiral said, smiling. The pilots were going to be crowing for weeks he thought. He shook his head. They had performed well, but they shouldn't get too much of a swelled head over the win. They'd taken down three wounded opponents engaged with each other. Try that with prey in good condition.

“Admiral, um, sir, the skipper would like a word,” a tech said.

“I'd say she does,” he said dryly.

“Sir, the captains of …”

He held up a restraining hand. “Fleet conference in a half hour. I expected better of the warships; they were sloppy. They'd better improve on their next outing or heads will definitely roll,” he growled. “Order all hands to clean up. Rick, kill the sim,” he ordered. His chief of staff nodded and followed his orders.

He'd have to find a way to put Maya's people in their place. Eventually, he thought. For now, he had a lot of griping to listen to and some critiques to hand out.

---<>))))

PR Snippet 2

Still in Chapter 1:

Lingchi was an Arboth frame variant built to be an escort carrier. She wasn't much unfortunately, she had sacrificed most of her armament for two boat bays, one per flank. Each boat bay supported one squadron of fighters and a small number of support craft.

Of the 2 squadrons of fighters on board, all but one were F-32 Raptors. Raptors were small and tight, easily able to fit in the tight confines of the starfish stylized warship's boat bays. They were crude craft compared to more modern fighters but they were the first Horathian built fighters deployed outside of the home star system. The squadrons had them to minimize logistical issues that had plagued other commands with a larger variety of craft.

The one lone fighter standing outside the group was labeled 00. It carried the nickname double-ought-buck to the maintenance crew, the CAG's Dread fighter to the pilots who exercised against her. She was an executor class fighter, more powerful than any of the others on board. Lieutenant Commander Maya Gisborn had taken ruthless advantage of bringing her own fighter with her when she'd transferred aboard to assume command of the tiny fighter wing. She also took ruthless advantage of everything her fighter had to offer over the Raptors. She frequently bested the entire wing during exercises.

Commander Gisborn was a cold woman, 169 centimeters tall. She was lithe, with a fighter pilot's trim body. She had ice blue eyes that matched her blue hair. Both contrasted with her pale skin. She tended to wear a monocle over her left eye when she was on duty. The monocle projected a HUD into her field of vision on that side.

She knew she was a damn good pilot, one of the best. She resented the position she'd been tricked into taking. She was better than Lingchi deserved. She thought of herself as wasting away on the ship surrounded by amateurs.

She kept her pilots to training, though she did tend to let them rotate to pilot a trash hauler if they needed a bit of relief. She didn't allow any of her people to linger on the ground however, the last things he wanted to lose a carefully trained pilot to some idiotic stunt. It didn't make her a favorite among the pilots, but that was their problem.

She had thought when she'd first taken the assignment that it would be a step up to bigger and better things. Apparently not. She was now trapped on the ship, at least until she returned to Horath after completing her mission. The moment she did she planned on filing for a transfer. She already had the paperwork drawn up and in her files, ready to date and send off at a moment's notice.

She was still struggling with the concept of the carrier. It was small, tiny, cramped, and not well designed for a fighter group. Two squadrons was less than what a heavy cruiser could carry as well, so it was silly. Apparently someone in the old Federation had come up with the design on paper and then they'd rushed it into production to protect vulnerable civilian shipping during the Xeno war.

They should have kept the Arboths going instead and ignored the civilian losses, she thought coldly as she checked the status board. She frowned when she noted more shuttle damage.

That was another thing. The cruisers had all traded in their fighters for more shuttles... and more life support for aliens to be on board. She wrinkled her nose at the very idea. She'd seen the big water tanks and pumps and such the work crews had brought in when she'd shuttled over to the flagship. Stupid. But, it was the brass's orders, so they had to be obeyed.

She was the one who had to live with it.

One thing she refused to do was to countersign any request to use her fighters for ground strafing runs. The last thing she needed was a fighter, designed for space combat, to be mixing it up in the soupy air while taking ground fire. It was another way for her people to get lost or shot up for little return. It wasn't going to happen on her watch. No way.

No matter how much her pilots or the shuttle crews whined and boo hooed about it, she thought in disgust.

She was rather lucky to be in the fleet, let alone a pilot and officer at all. She'd been found as a child, picked up in a stasis pod by a Horathian warship. Instead of being tormented the skipper had taken her under her wing and trained her to become a Horathian officer. It hadn't occurred to her until much later that the crew had been mocking her earnest efforts to fit in behind her back. They'd thought the skipper had been molesting her. They had been wrong. Their attitudes had gone a long way to shape her own cold disdain for their thoughts or welfare.

When it boiled down to it, she was better off alone anyway. She took in enough talk to keep a finger on the pulse of the ship and squadrons, and no more. She had a duty to perform. That attention to detail and single minded devotion to duty might make her seem like a marionette to some, but it earned grudging respect from all.

She didn't care for either. As long as they did their jobs, that was all that really mattered to her.

“CAG, you scheduled another exercise for tomorrow? You know we've got to watch the maintenance clocks on those birds right?” the captain demanded as she entered the stuffy and smoke filled wardroom for the daily briefing.

Her eyes narrowed. She fought the tears from the smoke. So it was going to be like that eh? She thought keeping her temper firmly in check as she took her rightful seat across from the XO. The XO had his pipe out but hadn't lit it. The skipper had already started in on the cigars she noted. “And we can't do all of the training in the simulators sir. We don't have enough of them as you know. We've got to get our people out at least once a week. Twice a week if possible.”

“What all of them?” the maintenance supervisor demanded.

“Quit your bitching. Yes, all of them,” Maya stated flatly in a no nonsense tone. “I told you and told you, we can't practice a full up exercise with the three simulators we've got!”

“It's a lot of time on the clocks though,” the supervisor said imploringly. Two of the fighters are going to need complete tear downs if you do it Meia,” he said.

Her arctic blue eyes flashed. “It's Maya, not Meia. Get it straight Stracker. I'm starting to wonder about what else you've been screwing up if you can't even get my name right,” she said. “And it's Commander Gisborn to you,” she added.

“At ease,” the captain said mildly. “I'm of two minds about this exercise you've got planned CAG. Stracker is right.”

“I've already cleared it with the admiral,” Maya said, turning her eyes on the skipper. He stiffened. “He wanted an exercise anyway and this fits. It's why I waited for tomorrow to schedule it,” she smiled thinly. “It will certainly punch up things a notch!” she said.

The XO frowned thoughtfully. He knew the CAG going over the skipper's head wasn't going to sit well. Maya didn't play politics worth a damn but she certainly knew what buttons to push. Especially those that were certain to piss people off. She also seemed bound and determined to push every single last one of them.

“Very well,” the skipper said stiffly. “I'll check of course, he hasn't said anything to me,” he said, nose in the air. “But for the moment I'm willing to take your word for it CAG,” he said. He turned to look at the other officers around the table. “That means we need to adjust our expectations and facilitate this exercise to the best of our ability. Lingchi has a reputation of excellence to uphold after all,” he intoned firmly.

The officers around the table nodded. The XO crossed his arms and leaned back, eying the CAG and then Stracker. Stracker was liable to do something stupid eventually, most likely to put a certain amount of egg all over Maya's face. Hopefully it was just egg, and not anything fatal. Pilots of her caliber were in short supply... just like the fighter she saddled up with.

Hopefully it wouldn't be fatal. He didn't want to lose both officers. He made a mental note to sit on Stracker. Get the guy beered up to blow off the head of steam  he was building up or something. He also planned to have a quiet word with Maya as well. She should know better than to antagonize her crew chief. Her safety and the mission rested in his hands as much as her own. He'd seen what a few 'accidents' could do to a good officer that took their job a little too far.

“Since the CAG let the cat out of the bag early, I suppose she might be so inclined to give us a tip on what the exercise plot is supposed to be? And what our role in it is going to be? Just so we're all on the same script page of course,” the captain said in a dust dry voice as he eyed the CAG.

Maya nodded. “We're going to do a magnum launch and simulate an attack on the cruisers while they mix it up.”

“Who's side are we on?” the XO asked.

“Whoever is on the losing side, according to our op orders. The Admiral is going to sit it out and let the captain's play for the points. We're the nasty surprise he's got tucked away. I'm all for that. I plan on giving them a rather particular nasty surprise when I line up for a strafing run,” she grinned wolfishly.

The skipper nodded.

“Oh, and the Admiral did let slip that the ship with the best point score at the end gets liberty and some down time,” Maya added almost absently. That earned some whistles and cheers of appreciation.

“Okay then. Let's see if we can help you out then,” the skipper said with an earnest nod. “Since we plan on being the ones with the liberty and honors,” he said with a tight smile.

---<>))))

 

 

 

Pirate Rage snippet 1

Act 1

Chapter 1

Rear Admiral Linneaus Von Berk stood on his flagship Apache and stared down at the blue, green, and white marble below. He wasn't much of an imposing man, but was given command of Fourth Fleet by the Horathian Emperor and so his very notice was life or death for those below.

Just when he thought his time was wasted, something came up to change that. He'd almost given up on the planet. Oh sure, bombing the cities was fun, but he only had so many KEW strikes in his inventory. Pushing rocks sometimes worked, but that was hit or miss too, some blew up when ice of one form or another superheated during reentry and blew the rock apart.

He'd destroyed the so called Federation Naval hospital, blasted it into a molten crater after his Marines had raided it. He wasn't too happy about the casualties the grounders had inflicted. Fortunately for him the hospital had doctors and nurses, not Marines so they hadn't put up much opposition.

He shook his head. They hadn't left much for his people to grab though. A couple tons of medical supplies, most of it replaceable. A few prisoners, though two had committed suicide upon capture, so they had learned little from them. The others had been fresh recruits. They would soon see the error of their ways.

His four cruisers, the heavy cruisers, Apache and medium cruiser Adventure Galley, the light cruisers, Calico Jack, and Jean Lafitte, the escort carrier Lingchi and four tin cans had to cover the ten support ships under his command. Ten, though he'd started out with nine. He'd captured 3 ships and his people had picked them over thoroughly. Two hadn't been worth keeping, they were too far gone, too slow to keep up. He'd been tempted to send them back with prize crews, but he didn't want to lose the personnel so he'd abandoned them... with a suitable booby trap for any unwary person who attempted to board to claim them. He'd also marked their locations in case the admiralty wished to salvage them at a later date.

He doubted it though. Tarzed had been a Cygnus class, very old and slow. Gahira had been an even more ancient Moth class. Both had practically fallen into his lap. Their crews and databases had given his intelligence people a better more recent picture of the sector and their AO however.

And the crew had been a source of labor and entertainment for the crews, he mused.

By stripping both ships he'd managed to make a dent in Miratch's litany of woes and deferred maintenance. Honestly, he didn't understand how any crew would go out into space with such haphazard slipshod repairs.

Miratch was the real find, an old but still useable Lagroose bulk freighter. Old she might be, but she'd had the best hyperdrive of the lot. He'd put the slaves and prize crew to work on her systems while other crews had stripped the other ships of anything useable. He had disciplined a few of the marines for shooting up some of the passageways, it had been a stupid waste and a danger to themselves and others.

He shook his head. The existing cargo on the ships had been used by his crew to great relief. They had run out of fresh fruit and other foodstuffs in the enlisted mess decks long ago. Miratch's cornucopia tree was highly prized by everyone in his fleet task force. He thought of the apple he'd had after breakfast then turned his attention to the plot.

His hands clenched and unclenched behind him. He had to be patient he reminded himself again. Such things took time. His people were checking the coastlines, but this tip might pay off.

The news his intelligence people had passed on was troubling. He'd ordered further interrogations but they hadn't turned up much for the effort. What the crew knew was second or third hand, but it didn't bode well for him or his fleet's mission.

According to the reports, Admiral Irons had passed through the region on a solo mission. He wasn't concerned as to why, it didn't make sense but it had been confirmed, but he was more concerned with the other reports of Federation warships. Warships stooging through the area. News that they had a shipyard online and were building more warships.

His orders were to avoid contact if possible. He had every intention of following those orders, at least the spirit if not the letter of the orders. But if his people could bag a singleton, he planned on doing it. Every ship they picked off helped to blood his crew and might give them more information while also hurting their enemies.

Besides, it kept his people on their toes to know that there really were forces out there that were hell bent on stopping them.

“Still checking the coast lines sir. Is the intelligence accurate?” the tactical officer asked.

“For the mayor's sake it'd better be.”

“Not that it matters. We'll bomb them eventually, right sir?” the tactical officer asked hopefully.

“I'll consider it,” the admiral grunted.

“We've got something sir. The last pass... patching you through now sir,” the shuttle's flight engineer said, sending a fresh signal to the flagship. The admiral frowned as the plot changed to a coastline. It narrowed down to one stretch of beach, then in further until he could see distinct buildings. He grimaced though, the rest was... no, he could see a few dots.

“Overlaying thermal imaging now. The shuttle's sensors aren't as good as we'd hoped sir,” the TACO said. The image changed as dots of various shades of red and yellow appeared on the plot. He frowned, then nodded as he saw a few out to sea. Some were coming in, and he was pretty sure they weren't on a dingy or other small craft.

They had found what they had been after, a surviving water population. One ripe for the picking if they played their cards right.

 The admiral touched the icon on the screen and grinned. His patience had been rewarded. “Jackpot.”

 “I was going to say bingo or honey hole myself sir,” Captain Eliza Bordou said, coming over to look at the image while standing beside him. The admiral glanced at the Captain and then back to the image on the screen. She was a good captain, a good leader which was why he tolerated her as his flagship captain. Apache needed the best and he'd gotten it in her he mused. She wasn't pretty though, something that occasionally bothered him. She put great pains into making herself look severe with the bun and cold expression of disdain. Sometimes he wondered if it would be worth the trouble to take her in private and wipe the sneer off her face.

“I know the feeling. We've been all over the sector and other forces have been combing adjoining sectors only to find them right here, right under our nose.” He now regretted sending a quarter of his command to Aquarius. They might get something, then again, they might not. How they were supposed to pull the aliens out of the water was still in doubt, even from him.

“At least we found them sir. Quite a feather in our cap I suppose,” the captain said.

Rear Admiral Linnaeus Von Berk eyed her before turning away. She was a bit of a suck up, but he had to grant her her elation. It would indeed mean good things for their potential future careers. “Yes. Now we have to round them up and get them up here, then to Horath. No easy task.”

“I'm open to ideas sir. If we just rush the beach they'll swim for deep water and we'll lose them,” Lieutenant Needlemier, the tactical officer advised. “We had the idea of hitting them from the sun or coming in over the water to drive them further up the beach but there is considerable doubt that it would work. It would most likely inflict losses in a strafing run.”

“Some might linger. The old, injured, and young,” the captain mused.

“The ones we don't need or want,” the XO replied with a grimace. The admiral nodded.

“Long term the young yes,” the admiral replied. He saw the XO's expression and shrugged it off. “Young can be sculpted and molded. Conditioned to obey. The old can be useful for a while.”

“If you say so sir,” the XO said dubiously.

“We could try gas sir. We don't have a lot, but riot gas might make them stall diving in order to breath.”

“True. And the air breathers we can pick off on the surface. We have the nets, though I'm not sure how effective they'll be,” the admiral said.

“Is going after them at all wise sir? We'll be wasting a lot of time and resources on what could be a net loss. And that doesn't include their survival chances on board sir. Or their compliance later.”

“It's in our mission brief. And we might get some of the adults in the bag if they wish to protect their young,” the admiral said. Catching them was actually one of his top 3 priorities.
“Why won't they take them with them sir? When they swim out to sea?” the TACO asked, wrinkling his nose.

“The very young can't swim,” the captain replied, eying the tactical officer with a slight sneer for not doing his homework as thoroughly as he should have. “They lack the lung capacity to dive deep and don't have the fat reserves to endure the cold sea for long.”

“Oh.” The TACO caught his skipper's look and looked away in embarrassment.

“So, we can work that to our advantage I suppose. We can also enlist the natives to help out. If we provide the right incentives,” he smiled with a shark like toothy grin. “Then they will fall all over themselves to help. Especially if we promise to leave them alone.”

“Yes sir, I suppose they will.”

---<>))))

Pirate Rage Cover

    I deliberately avoided posting this because I wanted the AI War to run for a bit. But, I'm trying to push Pirate Rage out by the end of the year, so here is the cover. A snippet will follow in a day or so.


   Minion Mike and I will try to push a snippet out every 2-3 days if possible.

   To the families of the people of San Bernardino and to others who are recent victims, saying our heart and prayers are with you are pale compensation for what you are going through. The whole world lost some good innocent people.
   To those who say we should just pray... we need more than that. Prayer is nice, but it must be followed by action. Even members of the local theology are now calling for action. This is happening entirely too often and steps need to be taken to make it harder to do so, not more wringing our hands and then moving on with our lives. We may never stop it, but we shouldn't turn a blind eye on the obvious and make it any easier for those who wish violence to be able to carry it out on others.