- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
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*staying tuned*
The Mars Chronicles
- Thread starter SouthernKing
- Start date
*staying tuned*
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Awesome! 
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
SK, keep this up and your record might be worse than Yoshi's. 
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
Due to the fact that I am separated from the comp that has the SKNES files on it, and therefore the update is unable to be completed, this could actually get an update later tonight.
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
Shady Sands, American Martian Territories, March 2152
The plan was in motion. The crates were set in place. A lone man leaned against the wall of the hot, humid room in the bowels of the Shady Sands complex, surveying his handiwork. The sweat dripped onto the floor, but to this man it was only a minor inconvenience. The reward would be far greater.
-----
Kevin McFly strained his neck back to stare up the height of the Tower, his shoulder-length blonde hair falling out of his face. The cables that were the space elevatorstretched up into the red sky seemingly for miles.
In fact, it did stretch for miles. The Tower's orbital level was a space station 360 kilometers above the Martian surface. The halfway point was Midway Station, suspended 180 kilometers up, where elevator cars could stop. The Tower had eight lines in staggered circles: the inner four were for cargo and the outer four for passengers.
Standing in a pressure suit topside, McFly thought about what he was about to accomplish. In under twelve hours, he would be the first to ride up - and former President James Connor would be the first to ride down.
-----
Chief Derek Carter munched down on his sandwich in the offices of the Shady Sands Justice Department, or SSJD.
"Department" was a major overstatement. As President Connor'slast executive order before leaving office, the SSJD had been established in 2149. It served no real purpose; crime in the colony was unheard of. The SSJD had its one judge, three lawyers, one bailiff, and six ex-cops in two "squads", led by a seventh ex-cop, Chief Carter. Carter himself had once been with the Los Angeles police, but after being discharged due to injuries sustained while assaulting a militant dugout in a North Hollywood warehouse. President Connor had asked him to move to Shady Sands; it was an offer Carter couldn't refuse.
The holoscreen behind him suddenly switched on, "This is a Global Reporting Network news report. GRN - Humanity's Number One Source of News!"
Carter tuned it out at first; it was something about the Tower opening. After finishing up his sandwich and turning around to get up and throw the wrapper in the recycler, he stopped to pay attention,
"Back on Earth, an FBI raid on an apartment in South Bend, Indiana, has acquired holodata units connecting Irish radical Kelsey MacNamara to the bombing of a Mormon congregation in Provo, Utah, that killed 55 people last month.
"Evacuations continue from the rapidly flooding city of Venice, Italy, today, as another aging UN-era dike collapsed today. A full quarter of the city is underwater and experts warn that the entire city could be inundated by January.
"A VTOL crashed on the roof of a Tokyo high-rise today. The pilot's hologram identified him as Alex E. Pic of Hamilton, Ontario..."
Carter was distracted by Greg Foster, FBI-M. The FBI-M unit was six men who had been assigned to Shady Sands by President David Garcia, Connor's replacement in office, in a political move to exert more influence over the colony, which the Republican Garcia opposed. It served even less of a purpose than the SSJD.
Foster held up a datacard. "We have a problem."
Carter sighed, "What is it?"
Foster took a holopad and inserted the card in, then looked around, "Say, where's everyone else?"
Carter shrugged, "Lunch break."
Foster sighed, disappointed, then began, on cue to flashing information on the screen. "The Red Hoplite transport vessel, arrived December 13, 2151. On board were five crates registered as 'science equipment,' that were unclaimed upon arrival, and therefore placed in storage block 11.Today, one of the maintenance workers doing his regular checksfound that these five crates were missing."
Carter studied the picture of the five crates, "What kind of 'science equipment' was in those crates?"
Foster wiped his brow, "That is the problem. They contained seismic detonators: devices that used earthquake waves to map out the rocks in an underground area. One missing is not a huge problem, but five-"
Carter finished, "Five detonated in close succession could theoretically cause an earthquake above ten or even eleven on the Richter scale. I know. So why - the Tower!"
"Someone's planningto bring down the Tower?"
"We should consider it. What's written on the sides of the crates? E. Pic Industries? That name sounds - wait! The news report today, Alex E. Pic, his VTOL crashed in Tokyo!"
"Oh really? We did look it up - the company's based in Hamilton, Ontario, and manufactures high-end scientific research equipment, mostly for geology, seismology, that sort of thing. It has less than a dozen employees, all working in management and marketing - it's almost 100% automated."
Foster's comm unit buzzed, and Foster checked it. "Carter! One of mu guys working a security camera found the crates - and a guy."
"Wait, what? You had your men working security now? That's my department!"
Foster held up his hand. "Sorry, I got presidential authorization, from the current president. Let's cut the crap and go."
Carter stood up, towering over Foster. "OK. But I will make sure your department pays for this."
To be continued...
The plan was in motion. The crates were set in place. A lone man leaned against the wall of the hot, humid room in the bowels of the Shady Sands complex, surveying his handiwork. The sweat dripped onto the floor, but to this man it was only a minor inconvenience. The reward would be far greater.
-----
Kevin McFly strained his neck back to stare up the height of the Tower, his shoulder-length blonde hair falling out of his face. The cables that were the space elevatorstretched up into the red sky seemingly for miles.
In fact, it did stretch for miles. The Tower's orbital level was a space station 360 kilometers above the Martian surface. The halfway point was Midway Station, suspended 180 kilometers up, where elevator cars could stop. The Tower had eight lines in staggered circles: the inner four were for cargo and the outer four for passengers.
Standing in a pressure suit topside, McFly thought about what he was about to accomplish. In under twelve hours, he would be the first to ride up - and former President James Connor would be the first to ride down.
-----
Chief Derek Carter munched down on his sandwich in the offices of the Shady Sands Justice Department, or SSJD.
"Department" was a major overstatement. As President Connor'slast executive order before leaving office, the SSJD had been established in 2149. It served no real purpose; crime in the colony was unheard of. The SSJD had its one judge, three lawyers, one bailiff, and six ex-cops in two "squads", led by a seventh ex-cop, Chief Carter. Carter himself had once been with the Los Angeles police, but after being discharged due to injuries sustained while assaulting a militant dugout in a North Hollywood warehouse. President Connor had asked him to move to Shady Sands; it was an offer Carter couldn't refuse.
The holoscreen behind him suddenly switched on, "This is a Global Reporting Network news report. GRN - Humanity's Number One Source of News!"
Carter tuned it out at first; it was something about the Tower opening. After finishing up his sandwich and turning around to get up and throw the wrapper in the recycler, he stopped to pay attention,
"Back on Earth, an FBI raid on an apartment in South Bend, Indiana, has acquired holodata units connecting Irish radical Kelsey MacNamara to the bombing of a Mormon congregation in Provo, Utah, that killed 55 people last month.
"Evacuations continue from the rapidly flooding city of Venice, Italy, today, as another aging UN-era dike collapsed today. A full quarter of the city is underwater and experts warn that the entire city could be inundated by January.
"A VTOL crashed on the roof of a Tokyo high-rise today. The pilot's hologram identified him as Alex E. Pic of Hamilton, Ontario..."
Carter was distracted by Greg Foster, FBI-M. The FBI-M unit was six men who had been assigned to Shady Sands by President David Garcia, Connor's replacement in office, in a political move to exert more influence over the colony, which the Republican Garcia opposed. It served even less of a purpose than the SSJD.
Foster held up a datacard. "We have a problem."
Carter sighed, "What is it?"
Foster took a holopad and inserted the card in, then looked around, "Say, where's everyone else?"
Carter shrugged, "Lunch break."
Foster sighed, disappointed, then began, on cue to flashing information on the screen. "The Red Hoplite transport vessel, arrived December 13, 2151. On board were five crates registered as 'science equipment,' that were unclaimed upon arrival, and therefore placed in storage block 11.Today, one of the maintenance workers doing his regular checksfound that these five crates were missing."
Carter studied the picture of the five crates, "What kind of 'science equipment' was in those crates?"
Foster wiped his brow, "That is the problem. They contained seismic detonators: devices that used earthquake waves to map out the rocks in an underground area. One missing is not a huge problem, but five-"
Carter finished, "Five detonated in close succession could theoretically cause an earthquake above ten or even eleven on the Richter scale. I know. So why - the Tower!"
"Someone's planningto bring down the Tower?"
"We should consider it. What's written on the sides of the crates? E. Pic Industries? That name sounds - wait! The news report today, Alex E. Pic, his VTOL crashed in Tokyo!"
"Oh really? We did look it up - the company's based in Hamilton, Ontario, and manufactures high-end scientific research equipment, mostly for geology, seismology, that sort of thing. It has less than a dozen employees, all working in management and marketing - it's almost 100% automated."
Foster's comm unit buzzed, and Foster checked it. "Carter! One of mu guys working a security camera found the crates - and a guy."
"Wait, what? You had your men working security now? That's my department!"
Foster held up his hand. "Sorry, I got presidential authorization, from the current president. Let's cut the crap and go."
Carter stood up, towering over Foster. "OK. But I will make sure your department pays for this."
To be continued...
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
An update... 
Anyway, good job. I look forward to finding out if my character is good or evil.
Anyway, good job. I look forward to finding out if my character is good or evil.
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
Under Shady Sands, American Martian Territories, March 2152
Foster and Carter rushed out of the elevator and into another corridor. Carter asked, "Where did you say he was again?"
Foster shrugged, "I don't know. Camera 499D, wherever the hell that is. It's in the lower levels, that's why we're down here."
"499D. That's...uh...Service Tunnel Delta-Five, under the Tower Ground Station. Used for inspecting the power system for the ground station."
Foster felt a vibration in his pocket, picked up his pocket holopad, and read aloud, "My guys have found who the guy on the camera is."
"Who, then? I want name, background, everything."
"Henri Paulson. Born in Megadon Arcology, that UN project island off the east coast of Borneo, in 2112. Hated life there, apparently. He graduated from high school in Megadon, left Megadon completely, went to a technical school in Montreal starting 2130. In 2135, started working as a floor inspector at an automated manufacturing plant in Quebec. Worked there until 2149. Lost his job due to the plant's owner, E. Pic Industries, shut down its Quebec plant due to its contract with the Tower project, and it needing to streamline its Earth sector. Unemployed since then, mostly living off the grid in Montreal.
"He has a criminal record. January 2131, Paulson was arrested while trying to smuggle weapons across the border into New York state. He cooperated with authorities, and admitted he had done it for cash flow. He was fined and released. Since his departure from E. Pic, he has been suspected to have connections to Québécois anarchist groups, in turn connected to Kelsey MacNamara. One of those groups claimed responsibility for the 2148 assassination of the Canadian prime minister. His name also came up during the investigation of the massacre of nine people in Vermont in 2149, but he was cleared."
"What would he have against the Tower?"
"Let's go ask him, shall we?"
They went down a flight of stairs and entered Service Tunnel Delta, a dimly lit wide space with a corrugated metal floor and vertical tubes that held piping and cables. Foster signaled Carter to slow down and move forward silently. The two held their laser pistols, searching behind every tube, slowly moving forward.
They rounded a corner, and there was a wide space, with five crates with "E. Pic Industries" arranged in a semicircle facing the wall.In the center of the circle stood a lone man, leaning against the wall, waiting.
Foster and Carter knelt and aimed. Carter shouted, "Don't move, Henri Paulson."
Henri turned around and raised a small handheld device that looked almost like a late 20th century or early 21st century television remote control. It was clearly a control to set off the equipment in the crates. Henry grinned evilly. "Shoot, and boom goes the Tower."
"You wouldn't," said Carter, trying to calm himself.
"Yes, I would." Henri pressed a button. Carter cringed as he heard a security gate shut behind them, and another behind Henri. They were now trapped in here. Henri said,"That Tower will go off...tonight. My nerves have been connected to this remote. If I die, it will go off. And these crates are placed exactly so when it collapses, Midway Station will fall right on top of the colony's main entrance. Boom." Henri laughed. "You can't kill me. I'm invincible! And you, Agent Foster, I know you're calling for backup. Your comms are jammed. Sorry."
Carter tried to keep calm. "Why are you doing this? What do you have against the Tower, or Shady Sands?"
Henri responded, "How do you cause fear? Hmm? By killing soldiers? No. By killing corrupt politicians nobody cares for? No. You cause fear...by striking at their bank accounts."
Carter was confused. "What?"
"The whole Mars colonization. What a waste of money. They've poured what, several trillion dollars into this? Taxes, that. The sweat, blood, and paychecks of the workers, that is what created this. To cause true fear, we simply put all that to waste. It makes the people infuriated, that all their money went to waste like this. And fury leads to fear. The residents of Shady Sands...the brightest, the best of Americans...if they all die, the people blame it on us, yes, but also the government. They couldn't protect this place."
Carter looked over and saw Foster still kneeling there. Carter turned back. "You killed E. Pic, no?"
"Oh yes, a pleasure, that one. Fat pig, he deserved no better, stole my job and my livelihood. So easy to trick the police into believing it was pilot error. No. I stabbed him, with a knife. The craft was angled such that I could jump into the Pacific and it would go flying right through the top floor of a Tokyo high-rise. Knives are so much better than guns, you know. Get to know your victim better."
Carter's head was spinning. Heresponded with, "Who are you working for?"
Henri chuckled. "Me? I work for a man who wants to do the right thing. To create a new world order for the people, by the people. He is everywhere and nowhere, at all times. He is many things. And by showing the people what has been laid to waste by the so-called leaders, he can show the true path - the path to true freedom, and true happiness. His name...Kelsey MacNamara."
"But...but...I thought he wanted freedom for the Irish!"
"Yes, he wants that. But he also wants to remake the world. And he will do that by-"
Suddenly, Paulson started shaking rapidly. He slumped to the ground. It was an SSJD officer, who had happened to pass by at that very moment, who had fired, through the gate. Carter yelled, aghast. "You've doomed us all!"
The officer shook his head. "Caught the whole thing on the security camera. This, it's set to stun."
Carter let out a great sigh of relief. "Now, let's get these gates opened. Paulson won't stay unconscious for long. And I doubt MacNamara will be too pleased."
Foster and Carter rushed out of the elevator and into another corridor. Carter asked, "Where did you say he was again?"
Foster shrugged, "I don't know. Camera 499D, wherever the hell that is. It's in the lower levels, that's why we're down here."
"499D. That's...uh...Service Tunnel Delta-Five, under the Tower Ground Station. Used for inspecting the power system for the ground station."
Foster felt a vibration in his pocket, picked up his pocket holopad, and read aloud, "My guys have found who the guy on the camera is."
"Who, then? I want name, background, everything."
"Henri Paulson. Born in Megadon Arcology, that UN project island off the east coast of Borneo, in 2112. Hated life there, apparently. He graduated from high school in Megadon, left Megadon completely, went to a technical school in Montreal starting 2130. In 2135, started working as a floor inspector at an automated manufacturing plant in Quebec. Worked there until 2149. Lost his job due to the plant's owner, E. Pic Industries, shut down its Quebec plant due to its contract with the Tower project, and it needing to streamline its Earth sector. Unemployed since then, mostly living off the grid in Montreal.
"He has a criminal record. January 2131, Paulson was arrested while trying to smuggle weapons across the border into New York state. He cooperated with authorities, and admitted he had done it for cash flow. He was fined and released. Since his departure from E. Pic, he has been suspected to have connections to Québécois anarchist groups, in turn connected to Kelsey MacNamara. One of those groups claimed responsibility for the 2148 assassination of the Canadian prime minister. His name also came up during the investigation of the massacre of nine people in Vermont in 2149, but he was cleared."
"What would he have against the Tower?"
"Let's go ask him, shall we?"
They went down a flight of stairs and entered Service Tunnel Delta, a dimly lit wide space with a corrugated metal floor and vertical tubes that held piping and cables. Foster signaled Carter to slow down and move forward silently. The two held their laser pistols, searching behind every tube, slowly moving forward.
They rounded a corner, and there was a wide space, with five crates with "E. Pic Industries" arranged in a semicircle facing the wall.In the center of the circle stood a lone man, leaning against the wall, waiting.
Foster and Carter knelt and aimed. Carter shouted, "Don't move, Henri Paulson."
Henri turned around and raised a small handheld device that looked almost like a late 20th century or early 21st century television remote control. It was clearly a control to set off the equipment in the crates. Henry grinned evilly. "Shoot, and boom goes the Tower."
"You wouldn't," said Carter, trying to calm himself.
"Yes, I would." Henri pressed a button. Carter cringed as he heard a security gate shut behind them, and another behind Henri. They were now trapped in here. Henri said,"That Tower will go off...tonight. My nerves have been connected to this remote. If I die, it will go off. And these crates are placed exactly so when it collapses, Midway Station will fall right on top of the colony's main entrance. Boom." Henri laughed. "You can't kill me. I'm invincible! And you, Agent Foster, I know you're calling for backup. Your comms are jammed. Sorry."
Carter tried to keep calm. "Why are you doing this? What do you have against the Tower, or Shady Sands?"
Henri responded, "How do you cause fear? Hmm? By killing soldiers? No. By killing corrupt politicians nobody cares for? No. You cause fear...by striking at their bank accounts."
Carter was confused. "What?"
"The whole Mars colonization. What a waste of money. They've poured what, several trillion dollars into this? Taxes, that. The sweat, blood, and paychecks of the workers, that is what created this. To cause true fear, we simply put all that to waste. It makes the people infuriated, that all their money went to waste like this. And fury leads to fear. The residents of Shady Sands...the brightest, the best of Americans...if they all die, the people blame it on us, yes, but also the government. They couldn't protect this place."
Carter looked over and saw Foster still kneeling there. Carter turned back. "You killed E. Pic, no?"
"Oh yes, a pleasure, that one. Fat pig, he deserved no better, stole my job and my livelihood. So easy to trick the police into believing it was pilot error. No. I stabbed him, with a knife. The craft was angled such that I could jump into the Pacific and it would go flying right through the top floor of a Tokyo high-rise. Knives are so much better than guns, you know. Get to know your victim better."
Carter's head was spinning. Heresponded with, "Who are you working for?"
Henri chuckled. "Me? I work for a man who wants to do the right thing. To create a new world order for the people, by the people. He is everywhere and nowhere, at all times. He is many things. And by showing the people what has been laid to waste by the so-called leaders, he can show the true path - the path to true freedom, and true happiness. His name...Kelsey MacNamara."
"But...but...I thought he wanted freedom for the Irish!"
"Yes, he wants that. But he also wants to remake the world. And he will do that by-"
Suddenly, Paulson started shaking rapidly. He slumped to the ground. It was an SSJD officer, who had happened to pass by at that very moment, who had fired, through the gate. Carter yelled, aghast. "You've doomed us all!"
The officer shook his head. "Caught the whole thing on the security camera. This, it's set to stun."
Carter let out a great sigh of relief. "Now, let's get these gates opened. Paulson won't stay unconscious for long. And I doubt MacNamara will be too pleased."
Spoiler :
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Very nice. Great to see one of the forum's best stories make a return! 
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
- 5,470
I had forgotten this was a game 
mediterreania
Warlord
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2011
- Messages
- 189
Great story, but dear God cut down on the backchatter...
subbed
subbed
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
An update...
Anyway, good job. I look forward to finding out if my character is good or evil.
Neither; he's dead
Very nice. Great to see one of the forum's best stories make a return!
Thank you!
I had forgotten this was a game
High text:screen ratio FTW!
You won't see the last of that character
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
Nuuuu... Alex E. Pic is too Epic to die! His Spymaster uncovered the plot to kill him, and the person who died was actually a decoy.
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
While I wait for certain people to get war plans in for SKNES, I might be able to update this tomorrow.
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
Scranton, California, January 2153
The world spun around the pilot as he came back to consciousness. "What...happened..."
A figure was waving his hand in front of his face. "Sir, you got shot down."
"Wha...?"
"Missile. The convoy was attacked by bogeys with UN-era aircraft. Your VTOL was hit just rear of the cockpit. Blast knocked you out, your autopilot circuits were fried, and there was nothing you could do. You tailspun nearly vertically into the ground. Safety systems are amazing in these new VTOLs."
The cacti were silhouetted against the setting sun as the pilot's vision focused, revealing the figure as a medic. The pilot gasped, "Where...are...?"
"This place? Scranton, population seventy-four. Closest actual settlement to the Nevada Incarceration Center, which ks about thirty miles up that road." The medic pointed north. "I'm from Nellis, we arrived here as soon as we lost voice comms with the convoy and locals reported explosions in the sky to the southwest. Two VTOLs went down, and the main transport too, a bit northeast of here. And your prisoner, Henri Paulson - he's gone."
The pilot sat up too quickly, and fell back from the lightheadedness. The medic steadied him. "Easy there, sir. He can't have gone far. We'll find him."
-------------
The Congo River Free Zone, May 2157
The captain of the Central African Police's Kinshasa department looked on at the house. This particular house, a good distance upriver from Kinshasa, dated back to the days when this was not Congo, but Leopold's land, over two and a half centuries earlier. The riverside house was the vacation spot of a particular Belgian aristocrat who enjoyed living in Africa. Now it was the nest of some militants who were sniping at the river traffic. Or at least it was, until the police had pumped some gas in an hour earlier, hopefully killing everyone inside. For the past hour, it had been occupied by some Central African policemen clearing up the place.
The rain that been pounding down for half an hour did not deter the captain from standing outside. He did not notice the front door enter and a policeman wearing a breathmask come outside until that policeman said, "Captain, you'll want to see this."
The captain blinked, then after a second turned and said, "What is it?"
The policeman handed him a breathmask and said, "You have to see it."
The captain placed on the breathmask and entered. He was led to the kitchen, an odd room featuring 2150s technology against an 1890s backdrop. There were three bodies in the room. Two were apparently inexperienced young locals in militant clothes sitting at a table drinking, their laser rifles leaning against their chairs.
Laying on the floor, a bottle broken on the floor nearby, lay the third, having the unmistakable face of Henri Paulson.
The world spun around the pilot as he came back to consciousness. "What...happened..."
A figure was waving his hand in front of his face. "Sir, you got shot down."
"Wha...?"
"Missile. The convoy was attacked by bogeys with UN-era aircraft. Your VTOL was hit just rear of the cockpit. Blast knocked you out, your autopilot circuits were fried, and there was nothing you could do. You tailspun nearly vertically into the ground. Safety systems are amazing in these new VTOLs."
The cacti were silhouetted against the setting sun as the pilot's vision focused, revealing the figure as a medic. The pilot gasped, "Where...are...?"
"This place? Scranton, population seventy-four. Closest actual settlement to the Nevada Incarceration Center, which ks about thirty miles up that road." The medic pointed north. "I'm from Nellis, we arrived here as soon as we lost voice comms with the convoy and locals reported explosions in the sky to the southwest. Two VTOLs went down, and the main transport too, a bit northeast of here. And your prisoner, Henri Paulson - he's gone."
The pilot sat up too quickly, and fell back from the lightheadedness. The medic steadied him. "Easy there, sir. He can't have gone far. We'll find him."
-------------
The Congo River Free Zone, May 2157
The captain of the Central African Police's Kinshasa department looked on at the house. This particular house, a good distance upriver from Kinshasa, dated back to the days when this was not Congo, but Leopold's land, over two and a half centuries earlier. The riverside house was the vacation spot of a particular Belgian aristocrat who enjoyed living in Africa. Now it was the nest of some militants who were sniping at the river traffic. Or at least it was, until the police had pumped some gas in an hour earlier, hopefully killing everyone inside. For the past hour, it had been occupied by some Central African policemen clearing up the place.
The rain that been pounding down for half an hour did not deter the captain from standing outside. He did not notice the front door enter and a policeman wearing a breathmask come outside until that policeman said, "Captain, you'll want to see this."
The captain blinked, then after a second turned and said, "What is it?"
The policeman handed him a breathmask and said, "You have to see it."
The captain placed on the breathmask and entered. He was led to the kitchen, an odd room featuring 2150s technology against an 1890s backdrop. There were three bodies in the room. Two were apparently inexperienced young locals in militant clothes sitting at a table drinking, their laser rifles leaning against their chairs.
Laying on the floor, a bottle broken on the floor nearby, lay the third, having the unmistakable face of Henri Paulson.
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