SYSNES2: On the Lathe of Suns

[Disenfrancised]

Originally Posted by Thlayli

Dis, I think that I am supposed to have refined Atmospheric Streamlining, otherwise my Ne'er Do Wells do curiously explosive things when subjected to gravity.

Yes, my mistake

[Disenfrancised]

Fun story Thlayli - but even if everyone has guns, how do you prevent those with the best guns, resources and friends from taking over?

[Thlayli]

How do you think Commodores become Commodores? In practice there's an informal system of patronage between many clans that allow less-well-connected folks with a lot of talent to rise up the ranks. But even in largely corruption-free societies, who you know is just as important as what you know.

[Thlayli]

Random stuff I noticed:

I have no idea if private sector spending ratios are calculated pre or post-upkeep. I'm sending orders and assuming (read: hoping) that it's post.

Parts of the stats imply that there are two Standard Rebel armies, but I can only find records for one.

[alex994]

The Treaty of Abell

In the first few years after the Standardite migration, there existed a very tense political atmosphere in the greater Abell system with vocal and influential forces in both the Standard and the Csser’ian Confederacy urging action against the other state. To prevent the outbreak of a mutually destructive conflict, the ambassador of the Standard Confederacy, Archimedes Sujiston, led a diplomatic team to Larsilla, the Capital of the Csser’ian Confederacy. After a spectacular entrance into the city, the Standardite Ambassador met with Prime Minister Josef Leoni and Foreign Secretary Haymir Jabal and finalized a treaty to ensure peace and trading relations between the two states within and beyond the Abell system.

The Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy, desiring to work towards greater peace and prosperity between our two states and to enhance the future prospects of peaceful cooperation, do hereby resolve to sign The Treaty of Abell.

Spoiler for Text of the Treaty of Abell:

I. Recognizing the peaceful intentions of the Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy towards each other, the two states do endeavor to enter into a peaceful relationship,

II. Understanding that long-distance commerce is vital for the development of Abell and the greater Forest region, the Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy mutually agree to offer re-supplying services and facilities,

III. Acknowledging the expenses accrued by the Standard Confederacy in maintaining her infrastructure and the wish of the Standard Confederacy to improve the educational standards of her people, the Csser’ian Confederacy agree to pay 70e for the construction of an university, either by a Csser’ian specialist or by the government of the Standard Confederacy, in the Standard Confederacy with the Standard Confederacy paying
the remainder of the cost for an university,

IV. Realizing that the benefits of long-distance commerce might be distributed extremely unevenly and wishing to ameliorate any future problems before they arise, the Csser’ian Confederacy agrees not to interfere in the shipping markets of the systems in which the Csser’ian Confederacy is actively using the facilities of the Standard Confederacy at the time with the non-compete ceasing to be valid should the Csser’ian Confederacy cease active usage of those resupplying facilities with this clause not applying to trade expansion of the Standard Confederacy outside of systems where the Csser’ian Confederacy is actively using the facilities of the Standard Confederacy, the sole exception to the non-compete clause being if companies or other organization of the Csser’ian Confederacy do operate the largest capacity trade route in those systems and thus commands one market share of the shipping system, if that is the case, the Csser’ian Confederacy will not expand her shipping presence beyond that presence,

V. Concerned with the alarming situation on the planet of Oia within the Abell System and its possibility of further destabilizing the relationship between the Mernt Oia Kingdom, the Standard Confederacy, and the Csser’ian Confederacy, both the Standard Confederacy and Csser’ian Confederacy pledge to uphold the territorial boundaries, political independence and sovereignty of the Mernt Oia Kingdom, pay compensation in the case of violations by either state’s private citizens and engage in fair and just commerce with the Mernt Oia Kingdom and her citizens so that the Mernt Oia Kingdom will be able to peacefully engage in domestic development as well as foreign trade with or without the assistance of foreign actors,

VI. Observing that the conditions may well change in the future, the Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy agree that this Treaty of Abell shall be in effect for five standard years (5 turns) with a re-negotiation period in 4 standard years, otherwise this treaty will be declared null and void upon its scheduled expiration in 5 standard years,

VII. Noting with regret the possibility of violations of the Treaty of Abell, it shall be stated that the violator of the Treaty should be punished if negotiations to ameliorate the violations fail to bring about a mutually acceptable conclusion within one year after the violation, the aggrieved party will have the right to take punitive actions against the violating party such as fines, economic sanctions, or in extreme cases of treaty violations such as an attack upon the Mernt Oia Kingdom, a military response would be appropriate,

VIII. Welcoming scrutiny by our friends, future trading partners, the Apeilic Iris, and neighbors into the content and nature of the Treaty of Abell between the Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy, the Csser’ian Confederacy and the Standard Confederacy are appreciative of future dealings with other states.

Signed,

Josef Leoni
Prime Minister of the Csser’ian Confederacy

Haymir Jabal
Foreign Secretary of the Csser’ian Confederacy

Trevi Lewiston
Commodore-in-Chief of the Standard Confederacy

Mandell Owens
Provisioner-General of Oia of the Standard Confederacy

Archimedes Sujiston
Ambassador of the Standard Confederacy

[Thlayli]

The Standard Confederacy recognizes this in full.

[Kraznaya]

Originally Posted by Thlayli

Random stuff I noticed:

I have no idea if private sector spending ratios are calculated pre or post-upkeep. I'm sending orders and assuming (read: hoping) that it's post.

That doesn't make much sense; how can the government pay upkeep for infrastructure such as roads with 0% taxation?

[Disenfrancised]

4/13.5 orders in

5/13.5 orders in. Congrats to SymD, Thy, Kal', Kraz and Frozen! All were fine.

[Kal'thzar]

It was a lot more work than I was expecting. Still I expect that it will get easier.

[Lord_Iggy]

I'm trying to get orders sent tonight about 6 hours from now... Dis, if you might be able to be on #nes at that time to answer a few questions? Worst case scenario I send the 'temporary NPC' orders.

[alex994]

The Highest of Altars

“It is with great honor and pride that I declare the First Session of the United Council of the Csser’ian Confederacy to be in session. May those who come after us remember us and our deed for the occurrence of death is inevitable, the loss of liberty, unthinkable.”

Josef Leoni, First Prime Minister of the Csser’ian Confederacy

Spoiler:

Drinking a now almost priceless class of zucco, her mind wandered. Never would she have imagined that she would leave Datha, let alone the sector. Yet here she was, simply another person of a vast fleet heading towards the outlands. Why?

Was it because she still remembered that day? But who didn’t remember when hundreds of billions began to scream out… and were silenced.

We interrupt you to bring breaking news: all signals from Datha have ceased to broadcast. Our system analysts have already denied any technical malfunction and the representative of the Government has stated that they are still receiving reports on what is ongoing. We shall endeavor to keep you updated.

She froze. It couldn’t be a big deal, right? Communication blackouts were common after all. The War had already gone on for a while before she left Datha yet she had never really felt concern there. It wasn’t the most pressing thing on her friends’ minds; the next show or the new restaurant was much more pressing than the war. After all, nobody had expected the Apeilics to stand a chance. It was just a sideshow.

She shook her head to try and forget. Through intermediaries, her father had arranged for her and her little brother to leave Datha for some safer location. It would have been difficult but her father was a quite influential shipper and had extensive contacts in the Csser’ian Confederacy of the Core Worlds.

It has been confirmed. Datha System has ceased all communications. Datha System has been inflicted a horrific attack by the Apeilics. The estimated casualties number in the tens if not hundreds of billions. We are still receiving reports and Government has yet to make a statement on these truly horrific actions of our allies.

Her heart had almost stopped. It couldn’t be. It was over then. Any battle over Datha would have horrific. If a single moon’s orbit was slightly de-stabilized, untold numbers would die. And in battle, more than one moon might be affected.
After that, there was really nothing left for her. She wallowed away. When she was offered a position as a doctor on one of the many starships leaving the Core Worlds, she took it and with the job, took her brother and herself away from the civilization and into the unknown.

She would never forgive the Apeilic genocide.

She was Dathic Csser’ian.

------------------------

“Senator Cvorak?” He sighed. The young rascal would never remember to simply call him by his first name, as he preferred, Haymir. Those overeducated younglings were too fond of formality. “Senator? The Chancellor insists that you come immediately. It is extremely important and is related to… the war.” The intern said that with a hint of excitement. He knew it. He glared at the young man, “The war is not something to feel excitement for. We fought reluctantly, to defend the weak against an aggressor.” Standing up, he put on his jacket and made his way to the Chancellor’s office.

Pausing outside of his office, he paused to admire the marble sculptures of two black Neferis. Free, independent, friendly and righteous; they were the symbols of the Csser’ian People. And what beautiful animals they were. He would need that inner calm before meeting with Chancellor Andrygiz. It wasn’t that he disliked the man; far from it, he immensely liked Adrygiz and they frequently played croquet polo together whenever the weather allowed. It was that politically, he and Adrygiz were polar opposites. While Adrygiz commanded the majority, he was the leader of the Loyal Opposition in the only issue which mattered: the issue of the war, and the alliance with the Apeilic Iris.

He was no Datha-lover. He wasn’t even sure of the Datha themselves even liked each other. When Datha had dispatched her second warfleet to “teach the Apeilic Iris a lesson”, he had advocated an aggressive diplomatic and economic program aimed at relieving the tensions. His bill had been outvoted on a slim margin. The denouncement of Dathic hegemony and domination had been proposed by Adrygiz and now years later, the war had been fought.

Walking into the room, he almost stepped back in shock. It was not one of the many personal meetings he had with Adrygiz. This was a full-on military-political-economic-intellectual conference. What was going on? Was this the military coup he had always feared? Probably not. Andrygiz was chairing the meeting and as much as he liked the man, Andrygiz wouldn’t know the difference between a gun and a bow.

“As Haymir has so gladly decided to grace us with his presence, I will endeavor to begin. I am afraid I have the most distressing news that this your respective persons will likely have ever heard. My government as of two hours ago received a formal notification from our allies, the Apeilic Iris, about an occurrence… of a solar flare in Datha. This solar flare is estimated to have caused an horrendous amount of casualties. The Apeilic Iris do not project there to be any survivors.”

A collective gasp, and then silence filled the room. He felt his palms instinctively turn into fists. Billions… dead? Just like that. He could only imagine

“As a trusted ally, the Apeilic Iris has also informed me that it is extremely possible that this solar flare could have been induced by the actions of their military though they lack all of the necessary information at the moment. This tragic news was delivered most solemnly by Ambassador Stavi. Our advance scouts and long-range sensors have also confirmed the account of the Apeilic Iris.”

The silence in the room could have killed. The expressions were hardly polite: half were torn with disgust and the other half with sheer livid rage. He stood up, absolutely livid.

“This is… nothing more than sheer genocide. The Apeilics are mass murderers and nothing more. This is nothing but a repeat of the slaughter of the Weizpony. I demand that we take immediate action against the Apeilics. Solar flares would not suddenly occur in a way to engulf Datha and her Moons. I demand that we launch an inquiry.

The Csser’ian People shall have no role to play in the genocide of billions!”

Spoiler:

Radimir Tarkiny, Ambassador to the Csser’ian Confederacy, to Executor Langley, Csser’ian Standard Cycle 151

The situation has gone critical in the Csser’ian Sector. Chancellor Andrygiz’s government has fallen in all but name. Senator Cvorak now commands a un-precendented and overwhelming majority in the Csser’ian government. There exists a unanimous consensus amongst Csser’ian political circles in support for Cvorak. There have already been massive and spontaneous demonstrations throughout Csser’ian space demanding Andrygiz’s resignation and for their government to act against our government.

We do not believe that Cvorak will move against us militarily so quickly, but the threat of Csser’ian action might prompt others to follow their lead and turn against us. Considering the vast economic capabilities of the Csser’ian state and the influential position her society holds amongst many segments of the sector, we should move quickly and occupy their Core Worlds before her fleets return.
The threat of Csser’ian neutrality and economic sanctions would significantly undermine our sector-wide endeavors and would be much more detrimental than outright military hostility. I recommend regime change.

-------------

Did you see the report Chancellor?

It was quite painful, quite painful to know that he had just approved the dissemination of a clip from a data freighter which had documented the process - the process of the destruction of Datha System and the process of killing a Gaian world and the countless billions. How else could he describe it knowing that the blood of those billions were on his hands. He hadn’t struggled hard enough against the Apeilics and the War Party.

I saw the report Ambassador.

Representing my government, I must officially protest the emotional and frankly biased perspective of the news report involving the destruction of Datha System. My government asks that in you use your influence to stop the reports.

How could the Apeilics be so cold? To have slaughtered, no, committed genocide on Datha System and still be so dispassionate as to demand that the footage of the solar flare be restricted without blinking an eye? What had the war done to them? What had the war done to them all?

Ambassador, I cannot in good conscience order the censorship of our media. The People have a right to know the actions of our…. erstwhile allies.

The Apeilic Government would not imagine dictating to the Csser’ian Confederacy the internal domestic policies she should pursue. It is simply the fact that such footage has an audience beyond the borders of the Confederacy and that such emotional footage could fan anti-Apeilic feelings throughout the entire sector.
That is beyond my ability to alter Ambassador. I am afraid there is nothing more to discuss.

They had moved quickly. Much more quickly than he had predicted or even imagined. In a few standard cycles, they had established supremacy over most of the Core Worlds. The financial exchanges on Phrilleaus, Adamer and Oriona had utterly collapsed. The media was already predicting the end of the Csser’ian Confederacy as an independent entity; the death of Datha System had heralded the re-enslavement of the Csser’ian People, this time under the Apeilic anti-matter boot!

The fleets were still in transit. It was unlikely they would make it before the Apeilics landed. So confident of their victory was that the Apeilics had made no moves to disarm or destroy planetary or orbital defenses. He had summoned all reserve duty planetary forces and had prepared to resist an invasion and occupation. Would he, Haymir Cvorak, be the last Chancellor of the Csser’ian Confederacy?

Chancellor Cvorak. This is Admiral Natalia Hiudra of the Apeilic Seventh Fleet. I am here to request your permission for my fleet to land ground forces to ensure the safety and stability of the upcoming elections.

I am unaware of any upcoming elections or requests for Apeilic supervision.

Grant our request or I shall have no choice but to declare the Confederacy an active hostile against my fleet and proceed with the destruction and bombardment of your planetary and orbital infrastructure.

Yours is not a request but an ultimatum I cannot in good conscience refuse.

You have had your time Chancellor. To preserve the peace and stability of the Sector, this must be done.

He had given in. Given in to ensure the continued vitality of Csser’ian society as a functional entity in this new post-Datha world. He had given the order; the order to disarm and not oppose the Apeilic “landings”. It had gone unheeded. Millions had taken to the streets to protest the Apeilic invasion. Those protests had turned violent. Tens of thousands had already been killed in clashes with the Apeilic military. The planetary defense forces on various worlds were engaging the Apeilics in the cities. Blood went down the streets.

There was nothing he could do. He had been stripped of his post by an extra-constitutional council assembled by the Apeilics. His good friend Andrygiz had been appointed interim Chancellor by Admiral Hiudra. The ever-colorful Csser’ian news and media centers had been ordered to shut down until a full inquiry had been launched into supposed Dathic conspiracies. He toyed with his gun. Perhaps this was fate. He held it and admired its wooden beauty. A priceless antique from beyond a time before recollection, this “Colt” had been in his family for generations. His ancestor had taken it from a Weipozny general during the Revolution. He steeled himself and prepared for the end.

Chancellor! The Fleets! The Fleets have arrived!

----------------

Executor Sirici to Arbiter Monti, Csser’ian Standard Cycle 165

As per your recommendation, Ambassador Radimir Tarkiny and Executor Langley have been fired from their posts for gross incompetence. Likewise, Admiral Natalia Hiundra has been charged with gross incompetence as well as treason and is facing a court-martial.

As I communicated to you previously, Ambassador Tarkiny’s radical and inflammatory reports grossly overplayed the consequences of the fall of the Andrygiz Government in the Csser’ian Sector. Despite the spontaneous outrage expressed by a vast segment of Csser’ian society, fundamentally they do not have enough organizational ability to organize an alternative coalition against us. The Csser’ian Confederacy is fundamentally a society of shopkeepers, financiers, political theorists, rabble-rousers and immigrants – not politicians or generals.

The actions of Executor Langley were incomprehensible. It is impossible to understand why he authorized Ambassador Tarkiny and Admiral Hiundra’s actions; it is difficult to understand how he believed a regime change in one of our staunchest and most influential allies was possible and if it was even in our favor. In the aftermath of the tragedy in Datha System, we needed to take on further responsibilities in the Sector and to ensure the cooperation of our varied coalition partners with us.

Regime change in the Csser’ian Confederacy would have undeniably undermined all of that. The arrival of the Csser’ian Fleets along with the combined military forces of Xion Corporation, the Quajir Hegemony and the Martisk Republic showcases our fragile position in the post-war environment. The combined forces of those four respective sectors commanded an overwhelming majority over our Seventh Fleet.

The entire Csser’ian sector now hangs at the whim of Chancellor Cvorak. Without the vast shipping and financial networks of the Csser’ian Confederacy, any attempts to restore pre-war conditions will be extremely complicated. I recommend that we make immediate amends and possibly even offering to facilitate emigration for discontented parties from the Confederacy to one of the new frontier regions; possibly Alnitah?

Spoiler:

It had been a long week.

The smell of ash and burnt flesh filled his nostrils. Damn those Apeilics. They had landed without resistance from the orbital or planetary defenses; word was that Government had ordered it. What else could they do? His brother’s last message said his fleet was still somewhere in the goddamn Datha sector fighting the Apeilics’ wars.

Which was why he was there, one of many reserves pulled up to duty; Government might have silenced the batteries, but Governor Miliych had refused the order to stand down and Government hadn’t stopped him. Because the Governor was right. Csser’ia would be occupied over the corpses of dead Apeilics. And hopefully his won’t be there.

BAHM GRAEOM LORUEM

They were starting the attack.

BAHM BAHN ROAUM

The firing suddenly stopped. He peered through his binoculars. They were coming! His platoon commander was quoting one of the great political theorists in anticipation of battle when something quite unexpected happened: a lone figure appeared.

Was it some super-soldier? Hs commlink began to ring. He hastily answered it. It was the Chancellor!

“This is Chancellor Cvorak. Our Fleets have returned and I have just accepted the surrender of Admiral Hiundra, Commander of the Apeilic Seventh Fleet and her armies. Cvorak out.”

He sighed in relief.

That lone figure revealed itself to be a lone soldier, waving a white flag.

So that was that. It had been… an interesting week. But it was a week well-spent. His commander was already back quoting political philosophy.

He liked being a financial analyst so much more; would probably have to recommend a downgrade for a bunch of domestic stocks when he got back to the job. Not that anybody would probably listen. Patriotic appeals would probably keep share prices relatively stable.

Oh well. He lost weight at least.

-----------------

As time sat still, he found himself almost irresistibly drawn to the past or more to the point, the past of his political downfall. Never doubting the righteousness of his beliefs, he now sat accused of treason of the highest degrees as well as being complicit in the mass genocide of the Datha System. The treason part was probably true. He had been appointed as essentially a puppet ruler by the Apeilics; he had given his approval to an extra-constitutional approval which deposed the sitting government. That was pretty hard to argue against. But party to mass genocide?
What could one say but that one had done one’s best, but in the end, failure was the outcome? Abandoned by all in his defeat.

“You look so lonely Adrygiz.”

He snapped up. He knew that voice. “Are you that surprised to see me?” The man sat down next to him. Unable to control himself, he couldn’t help but sarcastically retort. “Quite. I would have imagined that you would avoid me like the plague. Like so many others.” The man simply smiled. How obnoxious. How typical.
“What would you say, if I offered you another chance. Another chance at life?”

“Are you the devil in disguise?”

“No. Merely the representative of a force who has power beyond all of us. You have been summoned. Summoned to do your duty, as you once did proudly and without shame.”

“And what is that duty?”

“To stand by my side as I fight for what all that is good and just. For who else, but Nixon can go to China? I expect you to be back in the Capitol tomorrow.”
The man stood, smiled and left. It was as if, he had never been.

-----------------

The Martisk Standard

The Csser’ian Confederacy

Today, the Csser’ian Chancellor Cvorak will arrive for the Landkryis Conference taking place in the next few days. The Heads of State of the Xion Corporation, the Quajir Hegemony and our own Republic are to be present as well as Executor Sirici of the Apeilic Iris. It will be a momentous occasion as our government as well as that of the leading governments of the sector will enter into a comprehensive agreement on the future of security in the Post-War Period.

Chancellor Haymir Cvorak, the once infamous peace Senator from Lantara, has in the last few cycles become one of the most ardent advocates of greater Apeilic influence and participation throughout the sector. The new pro-Apeilic Champion has argued his case to the public back in the Csser’ian Confederacy to our very own planet; it has been leaked that the Chancellor will be present at a speech by President Nartysh at a meeting of the Council of Elders before the Conference.
Considering the controversial turnaround in the Chancellor’s position, the general political atmosphere in the Confederacy has been horribly strained. Chancellor Cvorak has taken the unprecendented step of offering all political dissidents the ability to leave the Csser’ian Confederacy. There has been an odd increase of interest in colonization on the part of many Csser’ians. It is beyond the understanding of the writers and editors of this report the eccentricities of the Csser’ian People….

----------------

“We failed.”

The stars shone above as the last fleets began their jumps. He hesitated, not knowing what else to write. It had been a long time, a long time since he was Chancellor. Those years since had passed by.

“Sure, I was all smiles at the conference. The others might not understand what was happening, but I knew. I sold the souls of everyone in the sector, convinced everyone whose souls were being sold, that it was worth it. And I convinced the buyer of the souls that the souls they were getting were of good value.

Perhaps one day people will understand. The entire sector was falling apart. Peoples and states were jumping all over the place, ready to revive ancient grudges and vendettas. Small brush wars had already begun in the outlying sectors. We could not control everything. Our fleets and armies would land and enforce peace. When they left, the war returned. We simply lack the dignitas. And the fear. That the Apeilic Iris had in abundance.

Remember that we are an accursed people. Born from genocide and mass slaughter, we are doomed to forever search for redemption; guilt haunts us. It haunts us and forces us to consider, reconsider and once more consider all our actions against our conscience. But we trudge on, hopeful for the future. For those who have never suffered cannot truly enjoy the blessings of life as it is with us. We have committed heinous sins but we continue to strive. For cognizant of our past and understanding the galaxy around us, we remain ever optimistic. That alone more than commends the Csser’ian spirit. The idea that our children’s time will be better.

For remember that a free and just society cannot live amongst the unfree and unjust. A free and just society enclosed within itself, much like Datha or the Apeilic Iris, cannot be truly free and just. To all Csser’ians who have made the voluntary choice to leave the Sector and journey abroad, remember who we are. Remember what freedom and justice truly mean.

Remember. And never forget what it means to be Csser’ian. And should there be a day when those principles are once more challenged, remember me. Remember Haymir Cvorak.

Remember his cautionary tale.”

The twin moons shone. A perfect alignment.

She sighed and lifted her head from the telescope. It was a beautiful omen. An omen of doom. Returning to her logs, she marked the dates. Science might have told all of Abell that it was a simple quirk of astronomy that the two moons would criss-cross the night sky but science had never been good at predicting the unpredictable. It was only afterwards that the high priests of science would trot out their new discoveries to put science back into line with their supposed new empirical data.

Idiots.

Sick of being mocked and ridiculed, she herself had crossed the vast canals to the mountain ridgelands in those days of peace where she sought and received a certification in archaeology. With that opening salvo, she accomplished more than she imagined. She still remembered those faces. Remembered those faces simply drop in shock when she unveiled her research. Abell had been completely covered in vast forests only a few centuries ago.

Legend and lore had always maintained that their ancestors had been skilled manipulators of life and the great forests but it had to wait until she had the proof, the proof found under merely a few feet of earth. That wasn’t the troubling part. It was what her findings meant. For the dreams and the nightmares had long come to pass, all too quickly.

She straightened her shoulders and walked out.

[qoou]

Apologies for messing up orders the first time, and sending a revised orderset in.

[Disenfrancised]

10/13.5 orders in, wooo. Unfortunately something came up today so laggards have until tomorrow morning to get stuff done. I will not be available to answer questions though.

[Lord_Iggy]

I've been kind of panicking over my orders, though they're mostly done. This extension is a godsend, as I've been working 16 hour days over the last week, and a 24 hour extension gives me time to clarify my understanding of the rules and send out some orders that I can actually be proud of.

Also, could you please resend me our last PMed correspondence? I want to check the specific names that I gave to my two starting designs.

[Thlayli]

I realize I forgot to spend my miniscule s in my orders.

Just do 100% re-investment for this turn, I suppose.

[Symphony D.]

Mudlands

     Sun rains down on mirrored water, shimmers up again as if off mercury. Wobbly, warping reflection stares back, well on its way to dusky from exposure, fire-eyed under short-cut gold. HUD frames it all in cold blue for contrast. I feel my lip curl in grim amusement. Can’t remember the last time I saw a mirror. Lately I forget my eyes aren’t real. Well, not their real color. Not their real look.
     The river stinks. The river boat stinks. The Mernt a half meter down the rail stinks. The Manderly Basin stinks. All of planet Oia stinks. The degenerate, mutant cousin of taro I have to constantly eat stinks. I stink.
     It’s a magnificent camouflage. I absolutely hate it.
     I can’t complain too much. I volunteered. They asked if I would serve and, stupid young me, I said yes. They asked me because I already mostly looked the part. Mostly looked like a Mernt. I thought nothing could be as boring as being a country boy down in the Sulfur Frontier.
     Nothing but the mudlands.
     I put the rancid smell of slow decay out of mind. I put the gnawing hunger in my gut out of mind. I put my hatred of this place out of mind. Slowly I slide my eyes up-river, slowly I turn my head. On the farthest edge of the horizon waver the indigo tips of the Karsin Mountains, the start of the Ridgelands--the objective. My skin brain, long totally disengaged from the skin proper, crunches the data and comes up with a distance. It’ll only be a few more days.
     I start chewing on another piece of taro without a thought. I can live with a few more days.

#

     The earth bakes, chalky yellow-brown that crunches under my boots. I walk on autopilot, the Karsins retreating into the distance footstep by footstep. I pull the brim of my gaucho hat low, roll my shoulders against the absurd brocaded poncho to shuffle the Gauss rifle beneath it, and studiously ignore the ticking distance indicator at the bottom right of my vision.
     The road has been out of use for months, discernible in optical mostly due to a consistent pattern of fewer rocks covering it than the landscape on either side, the storms having had their way with the simple dirt trail. The Mernt don’t come this way anymore. The Standards saw to that when they fell out of the slate sky guns blazing.
     I was here for their invasion. I watched the ships fall. I saw the masers and electrocasters light up the skies. I watched the surge of refugees, of women and children fleeing in panic. I watched men cut down. I smelled the ozone, the fear, the despair, the death. I tasted it. It seeped into my bones. “Observe,” they had told me.
     I observed. It was electric--quickly boring, quickly monotonous and disgusting, but for a brief moment, it was electric. I observed it all.
     Then one day Home started talking. In the blink of an eye centuries of silence became an endless media blitz. Praxzen Bureaucracy Foreign Relations Bureau this, Praxzen Bureaucracy Trade Promotion Council that. Within the messages, within the advertisements, there were patterns. Patterns only easily noted by someone with the right processing architecture. Patterns only easily noted by those like me. The messages in these patterns were never complicated. Operation “Corduroy” became “Stonewall,” “Observe” became “Observe and report,” and “Mernt” became “Standard.”
     So I started moving. I went thousands of miles from the bizarrely acrid cesspools of the Scattershot Lakes through Manderly Basin, a third of the way around the planet by foot, by primitive carriage, by riverboat, and once more by foot. I hazard a glance at the distance indicator and find myself immediately wishing I hadn’t.

#

     I take up position on a small escarpment with the setting sun off to one side so as neither to stare into it nor be silhouetted against it. A few kilometers ahead, sits the ramshackle Standard capital of Airharbor, a sprawl of piled mudbrick and rocks studded with corrugated roofs and primitive antennae, swarmed by dull, buzzing air vehicles going this way and that with neither rhyme nor seemingly reason. I observe it for some time, watching it shift into a visual cacophony as thousands of clashing lights and signs begin to glow in protest against twilight. I find I come up with little to report other than “primitive.”
     I hear the crunch of approaching footsteps several minutes before they begin to draw near, and count three sources moving together. I try to figure out how they might’ve spotted me. Finally they stop, some five meters behind me.
     “Hey, Blondie,” comes a twangy drawl, “what you think you’re doing there?” The dialect is clearly not Mernt. So, these are Standards.
     I take my time picking up my hat, put it on, adjust it, and rise. I listen intently. My delay is long enough to provoke a “I said--” before I turn around.
     “Well look here, boys!” says one of the three, “I think we got us one of them Mernt! I thought they all done run off!”
     I survey this group--posse--and find them just as archaic as their city: a lot of denim, leather, shades, paramilitary style vests and joint-pads, knives, and guns, guns, guns. Each has at least four different projectile guns visible. They match, in vague outlines, Mernt descriptions I’ve heard of Standard civilians. I have observed. My report: threat rating is not necessarily a function of firepower. “I--I don’t want any trouble.” I say it quiet, in a Mernt accent.
     “You hear that? He doesn’t want any trouble!” They laugh as if it’s the height of comedy and creep closer in some mockery of intimidation. Yes, that’s good, closer.
     “I don’t want any trouble,” I parrot again.
     “That’s too bad, I done hear trouble’s having a firesale!” They cross the two-and-a-half meter boundary, positioning themselves in an equilateral triangle, pinning me to the edge of the escarpment. I find I can’t help but grin. I’ve got that electric feeling again.
     “What’re you smiling about, boy?”
     The rising anger in his voice makes me chuckle. I lick my lips, and take up their slurred speech, “I think ya’ll done misunderstood the source of the trouble I were indicating.”
     A flash of confusion overtakes them for an instant. At this range it’s all I need. I fling my poncho over my head--taking the hat with it--and into the face of the left Standard and simultaneously grab the right one by the windpipe, using the motion to counterbalance a kick to the left one’s celiac plexus. Rebalancing again, I bring my left hand back across, grab a knife from the right one’s belt and tear his throat out while slashing the same of the center. Hot arterial blood sprays everywhere, glowing like neon in my infrared pits.
     I turn to find the left Standard on the ground, frozen in momentary horror. I lunge on him and pin him with my right hand about his jaw, holding the point of the knife a centimeter from his right eye. “Where’s your vehicle?” in no local accent.
     He struggles, wide-eyed. I slowly bring the knife closer. “I’m only going to ask one more time.”
     He moves his eyes back the way they’d come from, mutters something. It figures as much. I toss the knife aside and study his face. His eyes are of particular interest, a light brown. I cycle my contacts from Mernt red to this Standard shade. In the reflection of his eyes I can see them go clear, revealing my own as pure, infinite black. The Standard makes a muffled scream and I snap his neck.
     I stand and take stock of the situation: three dead bodies and my clothes and blood-splattered, as are two of the casualties, but the third is alright. I resolve to go get the vehicle first--maybe it’ll have a shovel.

#

     I should’ve made the last one dig and strip before killing him. I go over this point again and again until I throw the last spade-full of earth onto the shallow graves. I find some lighter top soil and distribute it over them to diminish the obvious color difference. A few weeks under Abell’s glare and no one’s going to be any the wiser.
     I adjust the straps and belts of the various Standard harnesses and holsters and collect my hat and poncho--“I got them off a Mernt.”
     I take a final look at Airharbor before boarding the aerial vehicle--“the veto.” Time to do some more observing and reporting.

[Lord_Iggy]

Departure from Hankville

Mersey Toles leaned back heavily in her chair, chewing on one end of a stick of sponch and feeding the other through the piercings in her lips as she waited, with no lack of impatience, for the Spaceport Authority to grant her vessel takeoff authorization. She was young, barely an adult by Hankish reckoning, and clad in an odd assortment of fabrics, including a heavily-worn vest that might have been high fashion on the old moon a decade ago. Now, it was little more than a tattered, sentimental garment. Air blowing through the cabin jingled the twisted pieces of metal jewellery that held her frizzy hair into distinct locks.

Her ship was Something Ventured, a Wild Blue-Class Escort Frigate. Its weapons systems had been entirely scrapped, throwing the 'Escort' portion of its name into contention, and its once-spacious interior had been gutted to make way for a battery of auxiliary burst drives and a tightly-packed cargo hold, but its aesthetic curves and unnecessarily streamlined chassis betrayed its past. It was an elegant vessel, designed in more prosperous times for less utilitarian purposes.

Mersey was in many ways an organic mirror of her vessel. She'd been little more than a child when Datha burned, too young directly comprehend the trauma of her home's destruction, but not old enough for the event to fail to mold her as a human being. Born into the family of an up-and-coming shipping manager at Hank-Sober, she might have experienced the luxuries of life in the Dathic upper crust, though she had little conception of what sorts of alien wonders such a life would actually entail.

It was not something she spent too much time fretting over, possibly due to the fact that she couldn't really understand the magnitude of what had been lost- no one her age could. She'd grown up fast, by necessity, developing an indefatigable sense of responsibility and self-reliance. Long absences from her parents had left her quite accustomed to the isolation that comes hand in hand with work in the shipping business.

Though this time she was not alone.

"Mister Toong, be this one ready to go?"

Her accent rang distinctly of the Dathic Moon of Quorum, from which most of the people who identified themselves as Hankish had originated. Further back in the corvette, a middle-aged diplomat, Yurnun Toong, extended his head from behind a mass of boxed supplies.

"All clicked into place. Shall these ones get moving now?"

As if on cue, Mersey's comm jack buzzed, and the launch clearance transmitted itself through. Without taking a moment to think, the pilot began to instinctively flow through the routines. As the familiar drone of atmospheric engines began to vibrate the cabin, she opened up the interface to her navigational computer.

"Glon..." she murmured, a smile playing at her lips. "Should be fun."

[Kal'thzar]

Lights in the Darkness

"You're sure about this?"

"The spectral work is ancient stuff, so yes I’m sure. Whether that links up to any of the known Pre-Third Age ruins is harder to determine,"

"Run, a better model. I hear the Yanii have done some excellent work on mathematical modeling of populations,"

"That's their cutting edge stuff. I can maybe hack the mathematics but there is no way I can understand the social underpinnings of the models they are using. Our own sociologists can't grasp the basics of the social models they’re using,"

"Well, how about incorporating the hardware we’ve been developing"

"You know that won’t work. Be happy with what I'm giving you,"

"Yes, yes....Well write it up and send it to me. I'll clean it up and present it to the Pentarchs,"

"Sure thing,"

"Cvetan, fly safe"

Cvetan smiled "Thanks,"

Cvetans optical and visual feeds terminated. He sighed in the recesses of his mind and checked the time and brought up the airlock controls. In a moment he was outside. His mask and robe on, he moved himself slightly above the outer hull of the Glon Space Station and admired the view. He brought up his multispectra sensors to admire the light of Glon reflected in Glon I, cycling through some wavelength ranges and settled on a combination of a few X-ray and ultraviolet wavelengths.

He considered going to one of the observation points inside the station to admire Glon directly, before rejecting it. They were always crowded. It was hard to enjoy the views with the presence of others. He began to write his report.

****

Cvetan, hailed Casey, one of his doctoral students, on his implants,

"Hey Case, the Pentarchs have given us the go ahead. I, uh, owe you a drink," That bet had always been a win-win he mused.

"Hah, they’re sending us to SAH8 then. I told you the models for SAH4 wouldn't pan out,"

"And I told them that we should be looking in the out of the way places, the ones that haven't been picked over yet,"

"Or harbour hiders and raiders, we don't want a repeat of the Pre-Jump incidents,"

"Look, the model suggested a three sigma certainty of finding a relic on those pre-third age ruins on Caos, the Hiders were an absurdly unlikely outcome and none of the post incident analysis changed that,"

Prior to their arrival in Alnitah Subsegment the Ilosians had been combining their twin loves of mining and wander-lust to look for relics. The Hiders had been of the confrontational sort, it had not ended well. They had left for a Long Jump almost immediately. Alnitah combined ease of travel and being the arse-end of nowhere it was a good place and time to cool down and do some more relic hunting.

"Hey Cvetan, Think we’ll find something at SAH8?" Case’s voice cut through Cvetans reverie.

"I don’t think it matters Case, SAH8 is the gateway into the Fingers, Triplets and eventually the Cloudbank. Our primary mission is to determine if there are any good rare metal lodes. Everything else is a bonus,"

[Disenfrancised]

Shadowbound and Seon: I am disappoint. You still have time as I haven't started on the update yet, but one of my friends isn't going to have a stroke every weekend, so future deadlines will be stricter.

<3 storywriters

[alex994]

OOC: I'm sorry to hear about your friend. British black humor