Aurora 4x
C# Fiction => General C# Fiction => Topic started by: The0didactus on August 04, 2021, 11:21:42 PM
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Hello Everyone, I'm Theodidactus. . . I was on here a lot a long time ago, and wandered away for a while. In the intervening years I've had many adventures but I've decided to return to Aurora to run one more campaign, of sorts, in the manner of my old fiction. Like my older stuff, this will be a setting where you will contribute via community voting. Updates may be infrequent, but they will happen.
THE PREMISE
A catastrophe has destroyed Earth, and in fact an entire solar system, 12 billion souls wiped out in an instant. Only a handful of humans remain aboard
less than a dozen space-capable ships: 7 commercial vessels, and 4 survey ships. These craft managed to escape the supernova event that ended humanity through the use of two Schlator generators: enormous spheres of exotic matter that enable faster-than-light travel through a poorly understood quantum-tunneling phenomenon.
The "Schlator effect" enables instantaneous transportation to distant quantum coordinates. . . but the destination is unknown and unknowable: potentially a galaxy away. . . or beyond the observable universe entirely.
After the jump engines cool and sensor resolution restores, humanity finds itself somewhere very far from home indeed. Unfamiliar stars shine in all directions. Humanity must begin anew with 4 mines, 2 factories, 20 infrastructure, 11 starships, and approximately 200,000 frozen colonists. The goal is simple: locate the closest thing to a habitable world (code name: big sky) and begin rebuilding.
The Ships
One Schlator class jump ship:
JS Schlator (Schlater class Jump Ship) 75,036 tons 440 Crew 1,622.2 BP TCS 1,501 TH 720 EM 0
479 km/s JR 6-25(C) Armour 1-158 Shields 0-0 HTK 115 Sensors 0/0/0/0 DCR 1 PPV 0
MSP 13 Max Repair 523.7 MSP
Cargo 5,000
Commander Control Rating 1 BRG
Intended Deployment Time: 36 months
Fuel Harvester: 1 modules producing 40,000 litres per annum
Orbital Miner: 3 modules producing 30 tons per mineral per annum
Schlator Generator (Large) Max Ship Size 94000 tons Distance 25k km Squadron Size 6
Otomo Engines Limited Nuclear Thermal Coil (9) Power 720.0 Fuel Use 10.06% Signature 80.00 Explosion 5%
Fuel Capacity 2,250,000 Litres Range 53.6 billion km (1294 days at full power)
Refuelling Capability: 60,000 litres per hour Complete Refuel 37 hours
This design is classed as a Commercial Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a i for auto-assignment purposes
One Montana Class Command Ship
CC Montana (Montana class Command Ship) 14,879 tons 398 Crew 1,587 BP TCS 298 TH 360 EM 0
1209 km/s JR 4-50 Armour 1-53 Shields 0-0 HTK 67 Sensors 0/0/0/2 DCR 8 PPV 0
Maint Life 2.07 Years MSP 1,033 AFR 221% IFR 3.1% 1YR 323 5YR 4,847 Max Repair 471.1 MSP
Passengers 250
Captain Control Rating 3 BRG SCI FLG
Intended Deployment Time: 35 months Morale Check Required
Macroscale Schlator Generator Max Ship Size 15000 tons Distance 50k km Squadron Size 4
Montana Expedition Nuclear Pulse Engine EP80.00 (3) Power 360.0 Fuel Use 73.48% Signature 120.00 Explosion 10%
Fuel Capacity 3,000,000 Litres Range 49.4 billion km (472 days at full power)
Refuelling Capability: 60,000 litres per hour Complete Refuel 50 hours
Geological Survey Sensors (2) 2 Survey Points Per Hour
This design is classed as a Military Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a Survey Ship for auto-assignment purposes
Three Bozeman class survey cruisers
Bozeman class Survey Cruiser 10,417 tons 191 Crew 1,403.5 BP TCS 208 TH 360 EM 0
1728 km/s Armour 1-42 Shields 0-0 HTK 43 Sensors 55/25/3/5 DCR 6 PPV 0
Maint Life 5.31 Years MSP 1,005 AFR 145% IFR 2.0% 1YR 60 5YR 895 Max Repair 100 MSP
Commander Control Rating 2 BRG SCI
Intended Deployment Time: 36 months Morale Check Required
Montana Expedition Nuclear Pulse Engine EP80.00 (3) Power 360.0 Fuel Use 73.48% Signature 120.00 Explosion 10%
Fuel Capacity 4,000,000 Litres Range 94.1 billion km (630 days at full power)
Dalvi Electronics EM Sensor EM5-25 (1) Sensitivity 25 Detect Sig Strength 1000: 39.5m km
Dalvi Electronics Thermal Observatory (1) Sensitivity 55 Detect Sig Strength 1000: 58.6m km
Geological Survey Sensors (5) 5 Survey Points Per Hour
Gravitational Survey Sensors (3) 3 Survey Points Per Hour
This design is classed as a Military Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a Survey Ship for auto-assignment purposes
Five Brandigo class freighters
Brandigo class Freighter 69,029 tons 168 Crew 667.9 BP TCS 1,381 TH 720 EM 0
521 km/s Armour 1-149 Shields 0-0 HTK 74 Sensors 0/0/0/0 DCR 1 PPV 0
MSP 6 Max Repair 50 MSP
Cargo 50,000 Cargo Shuttle Multiplier 1
Lieutenant Commander Control Rating 1 BRG
Intended Deployment Time: 36 months
Fuel Harvester: 1 modules producing 40,000 litres per annum
Otomo Engines Limited Nuclear Thermal Coil (9) Power 720.0 Fuel Use 10.06% Signature 80.00 Explosion 5%
Fuel Capacity 1,750,000 Litres Range 45.3 billion km (1006 days at full power)
Refuelling Capability: 60,000 litres per hour Complete Refuel 29 hours
This design is classed as a Commercial Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a i for auto-assignment purposes
and 1 chilton-class colony ship
Chilton class Colony Ship 69,671 tons 358 Crew 2,694.8 BP TCS 1,393 TH 720 EM 0
516 km/s Armour 1-150 Shields 0-0 HTK 104 Sensors 0/0/0/0 DCR 1 PPV 0
MSP 24 Max Repair 100 MSP
Cryogenic Berths 200,000 Cargo Shuttle Multiplier 1
Lieutenant Commander Control Rating 1 BRG
Intended Deployment Time: 36 months
Fuel Harvester: 1 modules producing 40,000 litres per annum
Otomo Engines Limited Nuclear Thermal Coil (9) Power 720.0 Fuel Use 10.06% Signature 80.00 Explosion 5%
Fuel Capacity 1,750,000 Litres Range 44.9 billion km (1006 days at full power)
Refuelling Capability: 60,000 litres per hour Complete Refuel 29 hours
This design is classed as a Commercial Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a Colony Ship for auto-assignment purposes
The cast at the outset
* Captain Dolores Palamino (Unappreciative, callous)
* Commander Irwin Callbrier (Hunter, Cheerful, Adventurous)
* Commander Deanna Dier (Aggressive, Warm)
* Commander Jude Woodman (Science Fiction buff, born leader, calm)
* Commander Chao Xian You (Cowardly, unreliable, academic)
* commander soren soderberg (unattractive, disciplined, averse to risk)
* lt. commander edvin soderberg (Contrarian, indifferent, unkempt)
* lt. commander anasuya allu (calm, apolitical, personable)
* lt. commander natala gorgone (pessimistic, capricious, nervous)
* lt. commander phillipine carey (unkempt, methodical, egomaniac)
* lt. commander shimedzu narumi (honest, adverse to risk, methodical)
* lt. commander kumari lalbhai (punctual, subjective, war games enthusiast)
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Ohh, I'm a fan of tiny-scale games.
You're playing with maintenance off, I assume? Survey ships are classed as military in C# now. If not, those survey ships are going to be on a clock to find a new home for what's left of humanity!
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Amazing idea!!
Will keep a close eye on this. Nice work.
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STORY ONE: IN THEORY
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December 17th, 2133, 19 hours after Transit:
Commander Chao cleared flecks of vomit from the edges of her lips and examined her face in the lavatory mirror. Distinctive swelling around her eyes, characteristic redness at the corners. It would be clear to everyone that she had been crying. . . an understandable reaction given the circumstances, but not one her crew could stand to see.
In this private place, she afforded herself the luxury of a few more quiet sobs. This feeling came in waves, predictable moments when her training gave way to sheer terror and despair. This would be the seventh time since the transit from Sol, and it surely would not be the last.
Earth was already dead to her, that much was certain. The world would whirl on for a few more months before the cataclysm burned up every celestial body in the system was a spinning cinder. The gamma wash would scour away everything and everyone she had ever known. Her thoughts turned to her brother, her father, her husband. . . still alive in theory, but god-knows-where. Professor Schlator had stated that her eponymous quantum tunneling system would take the fleet somewhere completely unknown, very likely outside the edge of the observable universe, so far away that the blast of light from her dying homeworld would never reach her, not if she waited the whole bredth of cosmic history. . .
. . . and of course her head was back in the toilet. Dry heaves now. Precious little to expel now. Biological processes running down. Ain't it always the way?
Her mind turned to what little remained: 11 ships, only a handful designed for more than a few years in orbit. A few thousand trained astronauts, most of which had never seen the real rigors of space. Recycling and hydroponic systems that worked, in theory. . . 200,000 flash-frozen colonists in little tubes aboard the Chilton, drifting somewhere nearby, on life support systems that would keep their frail bodies in something like life for decades. . . again in theory. Supplies to keep the explorer fleet running for 7 years. . . in theory.
The mission was clear enough, no need to wait for instructions from Captain Palamino: the explorer fleet would have to find a gas giant with enough Sorium to sustain the last remnants of earth. . . then, the real work would begin: A new home. Plant the seeds. Regrow.
It was possible, in theory. . . but their departure had been hasty: handfuls of flora and fauna, thrown together by scientists the eight months before the fleet departed for the edge of the solar system; halfhearted attempts by amateurs to catalog human history, art, culture, in a scrapbook-enyclopedia as disorganized as it was incomplete.
Commander Chao had to admit there was not much hope, but it fell on her to address the 200-odd crew under her command, and lie to the best of her ability. She dabbed the last few tears away from her eyes, tried her best to clear her mind of thoughts of earth, and walked out to face her crew. . .
*Thirteen Months Later*
"God Damn it, kill the music!" Commander Chao screamed over the plangent strains of the Electric Light Orchestra, blaring over jerry-rigged speakers in the ship's mess. "I said kill the music, that's a direct order!" She barked, shooting daggers at one of the Swedes who had rigged up the system in his spare time. He flicked a switch on the wall, and the system died with a disturbing "pop!"
Commander Chao addressed her crew for the twenthieth time since Transit. In the intervening year, morale had steadily improved, but discipline had broken down somewhat. It was a fair tradeoff. Most of the crew of the *Missoula* regarded the mission as a party that was bound to end sometime. . . but not quite yet. Perhaps this was the right attitude.
The survey fleet had crossed this new frontier over and back, over the last thirteen months, hunting for a suitable home for humanity. None were ideal, a few were possible, at least in theory. The search would continue as long as humanity's will to survive remained unbroken. Commander Chao estimated humanity's will to survive would remain unbroken as long as the beer held out. That was item one on today's address.
"Okay folks, Item One. " Commander Chao said, eyeing the 200 survivors under her command. "Pulse engine C's ejector cap blew out earlier this morning. The boys in grey think it'll be an easy fix as long as we can cannibalize enough T-wire from the ship's non-mission-critical subcomponents. Unfortunately, I've ordered them to tear out the nonessential refigeration units on deck 12. . . so it's going to be warm beer from now on, I'm afraid. "
Audible groans broke out. The Swedes groaned loudest of all. Commander Chao threw out her hands to quell a potential mutiny. "As you know. . . HEY! As you know. . . we're regrouping with the fleet near the Gas Giant December. It's possible. . . and I stress POSSIBLE. . . that I can requisition some T-wire from the *Van Rijn*. " Commander Chao examined a scrawled, torn-up scrap of paper which contained other agenda items. ". . . logistics informs me we're chewing through alcohol at the expected rate. Got a year left boys. I take it the impromptu brewing project continues to evade the science team?"
"Sorry yes, we're doing our best. " Lieutenant Commander Allu said with a halfhearted salute.
"Navigation estimates we're about 13 hours away from our rendezvous with the fleet. " Commander Chao said, proceeding to the next item on her list. "I'd ask everyone to be on their best behavior, as we have very little knowledge of how everyone else has handled the last year in isolation. If any of you lot have retained religion, I'd ask you to say a few prayers for the other ships on the exploration team. Say a few words to god or fate or whatever and hope they've had better luck finding a new home than we have. . . "
*fifteen hours later*
"Well, it's not *terrible*" Captain Palamino said as she examined the collected survey reports. The command crews of each member of the exploration fleet were crammed into an office that overlooked the flag bridge below. The year apart had taken a heavy toll on her subordinates: uniforms had frayed, faces had aged, but, the Captain figured, at least no senior officer had died.
"Commander Chao has found the best site so far. " She says. "Though Burnell One has obvious issues. At this point, we'll settle for solid ground, oxygen, and liquid water. I note nobody else sited all three. "
"Burnell One has obvious issues that preclude a long-term colony. " Commander Woodman said "We've got six dozen corundium drill-bits from earth, and *maybe* three engineers in the whole fleet that can frankenstein up a few more from spare parts. Burnell one has a nickle-iron crust, mining opportunities are minimal, if we're going to manufacture enough infrastructure to keep two hundred thousand humans alive and healthy, we're going to need to dig up a whole lot of duranium in a very short period of time. my estimates clearly show. . . "
"It's my call. " Captain Palamino said. "and at present I'm inclined to touch down on Burnell One, we've got three or four years before half the fleet starts falling out of the sky, and we've got no guarantee the colonists on ice will keep for much longer. If they start to. . . I guess for lack of a better word, "turn", this whole mission is over. "
"At least delay landfall until we can survey Bode-B Three. " Commander Woodman said. "It's one more year. If the planet has the mineral structure I expect, we can. . . "
"Bode Three is a toxic wasteland. " Captain Palamino replied. "Sulfur dioxide gas and periodic storms of silica-sludge, we'd spend the next fifty years in caves even if we could keep up with the infrastructure requirements. "
"I don't think I need to remind you that biostatsis process that keeps those colonists alive requires facilities and medical expertise we simply don't have anymore. " Commander Woodman replied. "You defrost those people, they will not be going to space again. You can't give the order to make landfall yet. You must let us *look* at Bode. . . "
"It's my call. " Captain Palamino said again.
"In theory. . . " Commander Chao muttered. . .
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That is a tough choice. What are the deposits on Burnell Two and Three? Could Three be a better option than One? Are there any gas giants in primary component of Bode system? If there are none, then Bode is not a choice at all in my opinion. Unless position of jump points and Lagrange points is very good. We would have to transport fuel from Burnell, of course we do not know if there are deposits of Sorium on Burnell Four. I think that we need to wait, at least until we know if there are deposits on Burnell Four.
OOC: Are there any in universe limitations outside the Aurora rules, that we should keep in mind when decisions are to be evaluated?
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OOC: Burnell Two and Three are definitely worse options than one. Bode is a double system, and Bode A has several unexplored gas giants. Relevant information will be provided upon request because I've forgotten considerable game mechanics
I've hinted at details that differ, I believe, from the standard aurora universe, but they're entirely cosmetic. The Schlator drive transports over extreme distance with each jump. Each system on the starmap could be in a different galaxy, or even farther apart. Once "unfrozen", humanity will lack the technology to resuspend colonists. . . likely for many decades.
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I believe that we need to wait for survey reports from Bode, we have one shot at this and sure, we are losing some time by not developing colony right now, but if there are better deposits on Bode, we can quickly catch up.
OOC comment: I would like to highlight that there is no Mercassium on Burnell, that means no research facilities and no Neutronium, so no shipyards. Burnell is not a good option, sure Bode can be even worse, but I believe we have to wait for survey report.
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STORY TWO: THE STELE
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Academy Notation 13-27-804114
Notator: E
The so-called "Soderberg Stele" is not a stele at all, in fact, it's highly unlikely the authors meant it as a public commemoration of anything, as there is every indication the Soderberg line was, for the first 150 years of the colony's existence following foundation, a complete nonentity. Instead, the stele appears to have been an entirely private attempt at commemorating important events within the Beargrass colony in orbit around Big Sky, a gas giant in what the colonists designated the "Bode" system. Laser-etched into a duranium support beam in the Soderberg family quarters by at least seven distinct hands, the stele is remarkable both in its candid nature, and in the fact that it is the most complete record from the first century of the colony's existence, a period in which nearly all other records are lost. Comparing the original logs of the founder ships with later records, it is clear the original author of the Stele was "Lieutenant Commander" Edvin Soderberg, commander of the founder-ship Brandigo, one of the ten ships to found a colony on the celestial body identified in precolonial records as "Bode IV-A", later known as Beargrass. Soderberg's progency continued to update the stele for nearly a century. Soren Soderberg, another "lieutenant commander" of the survey cruiser Boseman, is listed as left behind in the Burnell system.
1/9/2137: Quarters assigned, will be here a while, they're talking centuries. Might as well leave a mark.
1/11/2137: turbines installed, more power, light!
3/5/2137: Lucky strike mine founded among the asteroids. Shifts at least one year. miss her already
3/27/2137: Hydroponics complete
6/5/2137: reactor works!
7/17/2137: so many deaths
8/1/2137: miss her more
11/07/2137: first birth, new hope, they said it was impossible. Humans work here, it seems
12/2/2137: montana decommissioned, cannibalied for shelter
5/18/2138: palamino promises an election.
9/15/2138: happy new year
9/20/2138: she's coming home!
[ what follows is a crude illustration of a cardiod etched with "soderberg & chao"
2/12/2139: we have stability.
6/12/2139: Crowson governor
5/12/2140: accident in space, miner won't be coming back for years
11/12/2142: resigned.
8/4/2143: Emmert has cryonics working. New colonies are possible. Crowson declines.
9/21/2164: Saw dad had been working on this. Interesting. Will keep record assuming anything significant happens around here
11/7/2164: population exceeds 500,000.
4/4/2165: Miners return with the damp, whole pods infected, doing our best
6/31/2165: Dogson located a copy of "Key Largo" among wreckage of Brandigo. Whole colony talking about it, first new entertainment in a decade.
11/7/2165: Second Chance mine founded. Miners coming in 2 year shifts now. Very hard. Must be done.
4/5/2166: equatorial trade post completed, southern hemisphere of beargrass is ours
12/24/2178: returned home. 12 years and not much to show for it.
4/1/2180: population steady. hands not
5/11/2184: mom is gone, my turn now.
6/24/2186: Emmertite governor, everyone is worried
7/30/2189: getting married
3/21/2191: Sequence mine completed. Bryant will be rich.
[several dates are obscured by a crude illustration of a human reproductive organ drawn by a later vandal]
10/25/2208: appointed to head new hydroponics project.
12/11/2208: eureka, morels
3/6/2209: unrest in Emmertite quarter.
6/24/2209: Van Rijn reports unusually productive vein, significant progress. Less than a century here?
11/30/2214: It falls to me. Petersky decommissioned. New governor. Amity. Ambitious
7/7/2216: construction begins on shipyard, academy, my children will see it
5/11/2219: Amity dead. Damp.
12/1/2226: And now it falls to me.
4/8/2227: Population exceeds a million, on track to support a million more.
5/29/2230: Petersky radio silent for 9 weeks now, presumed lost. 4 transport ships remain functional. 3 needed to support the colony. What will become of us.
7/1/2230: Zebrev convinced we will perservere
1/5/2231: Petersky returns! Crew mostly alive. Month of celebrations.
4/8/2236: and now it falls to me I guess
9/1/2238: hired to construct shipyard. hands ache. honest work though
11/4/2240: shipyard assemblage complete. someday soon will write of its completion. Exciting. We return to the stars
1/15/2242. . .
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Finally popping into this one. Let me just note that people like you are the reason Steve gave us a 30 day increment button... :P
It sounds like settling in Bode turned out to be the right choice, though we don't yet know what the mineral readout was. Population growth seems rather slow for Aurora, I assume the racial growth rate has been nerfed for this campaign?
Aside:
6/5/2137: reactor works!
7/17/2137: so many deaths
while I can't be sure that this was the intention, the juxtaposition of these two events was a rather black-humorous moment to me - implying of course that the reactor worked...a little too well.
Curious to see what is next and how reader participation will work!
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It sounds like settling in Bode turned out to be the right choice, though we don't yet know what the mineral readout was. Population growth seems rather slow for Aurora, I assume the racial growth rate has been nerfed for this campaign?
Or the population is infrastructure limited so lots of 'off screen' deaths from people with nowhere to live.
6/5/2137: reactor works!
7/17/2137: so many deaths
while I can't be sure that this was the intention, the juxtaposition of these two events was a rather black-humorous moment to me - implying of course that the reactor worked...a little too well.
Begun the Reactor Wars have. The population fighting over having a plug socket that finally works so that they might power their beer fridges (I assume they are still a vital part of the culture of this civilisation).
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population was largely limited by infrastructure production. The colony had 2 factories, 2 automated mines, and 20 infrastructure at the outset. I'm building it up from there. The moon has most essential minerals except neutronium, which I'm mining from nearby asteroids. At present we're about 30 years from a shipyard complex and an academy.
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eighty seven years later
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STORY THREE: SODERBERG
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Horizon class Survey Ship 5,518 tons 112 Crew 534.1 BP TCS 110 TH 120 EM 0
1087 km/s JR 3-50 Armour 1-27 Shields 0-0 HTK 25 Sensors 11/5/1/1 DCR 4 PPV 0
Maint Life 3.94 Years MSP 242 AFR 61% IFR 0.8% 1YR 25 5YR 372 Max Repair 100 MSP
Commander Control Rating 1 BRG
Intended Deployment Time: 36 months Morale Check Required
Micro-Schlator Drive Max Ship Size 6000 tons Distance 50k km Squadron Size 3
Montana Expedition Nuclear Pulse Engine EP80.00 (1) Power 120 Fuel Use 73.48% Signature 120 Explosion 10%
Fuel Capacity 2,000,000 Litres Range 88.8 billion km (945 days at full power)
Thermal Sensor TH1.0-11.0 (1) Sensitivity 11 Detect Sig Strength 1000: 26.2m km
EM Sensor EM1.0-5.0 (1) Sensitivity 5 Detect Sig Strength 1000: 17.7m km
Geological Survey Sensors (1) 1 Survey Points Per Hour
Gravitational Survey Sensors (1) 1 Survey Points Per Hour
This design is classed as a Military Vessel for maintenance purposes
This design is classed as a Survey Ship for auto-assignment purposes
On a normal day in the gulf between worlds, the Equinox depended on every one of her hundred crew members. This was not a normal day. Something extraordinary had happened, ultimately to be attributed to one crew member: Larissa Miles, sensor technician second class, caught an anomalous line of heat signatures out of the corner of her eye while overflying the orbital path of an unremarkable world in the Burnell system on a return trip to Bode. Hypotheses were proposed and immediately discounted: thermal shimmer off of the ship's pulse-wake? Certainly not, it was visible on all three of the ship's thermal telescopes, with clear parallax effects. A volcanic eruption on the surface of the planet in question? Impossible, the stony world known to surveyors as Gunsight was tectonically active, but the signature was far to spread-out. . . and frankly far too cold. Smugglers? Pirates? Communities outside the Directorship had been theorized, but they would not be out this far.
But subsequent investigation lead to one incontrovertible conclusion: Larissa Miles had discovered a settlement on Gunsight, a tectonically active world that survey ships from the Directorate had passed three times previously without even stopping. Elias Aberg, commander of the Equinox, had hailed the settlement from thirty million kilometers away. Days of unsuccessful broadcasts on all communication frequencies were finally met with a response. Through the inevitable awkwardness of two-minute time delays, a conversation ensued went something like this:
Equinox: CQ CQ CQ This is Beargrass Directorate Survey-ship Equinox calling. CQ CQ CQ. . .
Colony: We. . . read?
Equinox: This is Beargrass Directorate Survey-ship Equinox on a return trip to the Bode system, under orders from Director Ana Soderberg, who are we speaking to?
Colony: We are Soderberg
Equinox: To clarify, yes, we are on a return trip to Bode under orders of Director Soderberg. English may not be your primary language, perhaps a translation is in order, we are asking who you are?
Colony: We are Soderberg
Equinox: Unclear what you are. . . look, the Directorship has forbidden independent prospecting and settlement outside the Bode system, how did you get out here?
Colony: Directorship? Here? We have always been here. We are Soderberg.
Equinox: Soderberg is on Beargrass, a system away. She is also one person. You are very likely a wildcat mining operation, though how you support yourselves out here in the void is beyond me. . . that's what we're trying to clarify here?
Colony: Wildcat? Beargrass? We are Soderberg.
A curious communication followed, initially assumed to be static. Days later, some brilliant programmer realized is was a raster-formatted image, broadcast in a format that had not been used since the initial tunnel from earth two centuries ago.
It showed four figures, clearly human, quite identical, quintuplets perhaps. When the image was presented to Commander Aberg he did have to admit that the humans looked quite a bit like Director Soderberg: The same sharp, stonelike face. The same volt-blue eyes. The same sour squint, like the whole universe owed them money. . .
Aberg matched the gaze of the figures in the image. Of course, he had no idea at the time how fateful this encounter would be. . . centuries hung the balance, but Aberg simply shook his head in ignorance.
"What the hell?" He grunted.
***
56 days later
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"What, who is Soderberg?" Director Ana Soderberg said, tossing her briefing materials aside. Her office, by a century-long tradition, was stationed in the highest spire on Central city, overlooking the steady lights of Beargrass colony.
"In a sense I think they all are. " Her attache replied. "Some kind of operant conditioning. Communiques are still coming in from the Equinox at a steady clip. . . but they wanted you to have initial intelligence the moment they tunneled into the system. There's. . . an understandable family element that might assist in first contact. "
"Well if I'm reading this right, you're talking about my great-great-great grand-uncle?" Soderberg said. Her family history was better-understood than most of the inhabitants of Beargrass colony: roughly a century ago years ago, her grandfather had put down the last of the Emmertite revolutions, and outlawed their practices. Since then, the colony had been run by members of her extended family. . . . partially out of tradition, partially because no one wanted the same fate as the last of the Emmertites. There were bleached piles of skulls out there on the equatorial wastes that her grandfather had built with his bare hands. . . but these were in theory far more civilized times. . .
"Great-great-great-great, One more great, if I have the colonial records in order. " Her attache replied. "When the Montana Expedition tunneled into the Bode system on their trajectory away from earth, they left one ship back in Burnell, the Bosemann, under the command of Soren Soderberg. Soren's brother Edvin was a lieutenant commander in charge of the Brandigo, which is still in operation. . . those things were built to last. . . and he was your great-great-great-great grandfather. . . near as we can tell. "
"The guy who started carving the stele in the old family quarters?"
"Yes. "
"So they left the Bosemann behind on the theory that Bode might have unfavorable mining conditions. . . and what, they never came back?"
"The Schlator drive on the Montana broke down two years into the Bode survey and the records subsequently got lost in the shuffle, we've only been able to reconstruct the initial manifests in the last seven years. . . "
"and the Bosemann?"
"Well, near as we can tell, they waited five or six years before touching down on Gunsight, and retooled the ship into a settlement. Then there was a long, slow realization that 200 crew simply could not make a sustainable colony. . . hell, we had a hard enough time fighting genetic drift effects with 200,000. . . so. . . um. . . it looks like a few brilliant souls found a solution in cloning, but given the telomeric halo-effects involved, the only viable candidate after a generation or two turned out to be. . . "
"Soren Soderberg. Yes. Every member of the colony on Gunsight is a clone of Soren Soderberg. They've been living in a collection of longhouses built out of shattered ship-hulls for the last two centuries"
"And how many of them are we dealing with?"
"Seven hundred thousand, give or take. . . seven hundred thousand Soren Soderbergs
Ana Soderberg's response was swift and decisive. . . no Soderberg did things by half measure. Her decision would shape the last remnants of humanity for centuries to come. . .
I will spacemaster the burgeoning colony in accordance with the prevailing option:
1: Exterminate: numerous immediate advances in space and ground weaponry
2: Conquer: several advances in ground weaponry and a new colony with a research lab and a population of 700,000
3: Take them in: numerous immediate advances in genetics and several research labs added to existing colonies
4: distrust: several advances in sensor technology and an independent colony arises on Gunsight
This decision will also set the tone for what kind of empire I play in this campaign
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As is tradition for interactive AARs, the choice I would pick is not on the list, this being the perhaps "half measure" approach of establishing relations and getting a better sense of this new colony before committing to a decisive action. If these Soderbergs haven't got ships, they pose no danger to Beargrass, and I'm guessing they also lack any kind of industry so there's no danger of any ships being launched anytime soon either. So worst case, they are hostile but no threat, and frankly they do not seem hostile. If they are by all assessments friendly, helpful, and not too mentally unstable we can start thinking about a slow, safe process of integration - making sure that humanity is not overwhelmed by clones of a single man all at once.
Option by option:
- Exterminate? Absolutely not. Leaving aside any qualms of morality, in a world where reaching a million population takes a century 700k is a valuable workforce if nothing else.
- Conquer? Maybe. This is a quick way to gain access to 700k pop and a research facility to boot, albeit one that would probably only work at half capacity for many decades.
- Take them in? Absolutely not. Leaving aside any claims to moral high ground, the implications of dropping 700,000 clones of one man into an established society are frightening to say the least. If nothing else these immediately become a massive power bloc by sheer size of population, assuming that as clones they will tend to identify with one another more readily than other humans.
- Distrust? Maybe. This is the closest to how I would prefer to initially approach things, but establishing a colony next to these Soderbergs is a risky move that has a lot of backfire potential.
While it is still moving too quickly for me, it does have the advantage of being relatively cautious and striking a balanced tone which should be essential for the future explorations of humanity. Thus, Distrust is the best option and has my vote accordingly.
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I agree with the esteemed colleague. Caution is advisable but we should try to establish diplomatic contact and possibly trade relationship with long term goal of reintegration. We need to find out more about them as after so many years in such difficult conditions. There could be differences between us that could prove dangerous, but the thought of extermination as some proposed is something I could not accept.
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Distrust does seem the best option. If nothing else I instantly became suspicious that the only set of genetic material that was viable was that of the commander, particularly if they managed a couple of generations of other candidates before the problems 'somehow' appeared.
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Conquest! If there's one thing I trust humans to do even after a couple more centuries it's to start killing each other because they don't know how to live together. And ground combat, minimal transports, drop units and STOs might something interesting mechanically for these microstates to play around with.
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Now that our course forward is clear, I'm attaching two namelists that will be important for this campaign moving forward. Feel free to use them in your campaign as well. These took hours and hours of work so naturally I hope this hard work is appreciated.
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Now that our course forward is clear, I'm attaching two namelists that will be important for this campaign moving forward. Feel free to use them in your campaign as well. These took hours and hours of work so naturally I hope this hard work is appreciated.
The downloads do not appear to work, and only contain several-byte text files with the names "soren" and "soderberg" respectively. Unless I have missed something?
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everyone in the civilization has the same name
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Aha.
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I have never laughed so hard at a series of posts on this forum before.
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We are Soderberg
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Well this is certainly something different! ;D
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=============================
STORY THREE: FOUR STORIES
=============================
one hundred and seventeen years later, exactly 300 years after first transit
Astrophysical equations covered the academy lightboards as professor Taub entered the third hour of a five-hour lecture. This was the nadir of an academy lesson, over the hump, but with a long way still to go...
At the front, in the small row of students who gave a damn, Ivana Fedotova took notes...hardly notes really, in fact she copied every word the professor said, and while she followed every word exactly, there would doubtless be numerous follow-up questions once the lecture concluded. Fedotova had unmet expectations to fill...the Society of Colonial Explorers (S.C.E.), inventors of ion technology and the seekers-after-a-second-earth, had selected her from an early age for inclusion in the scientific elect. After psychographics and full-spectrum karotying confirmed her considerable intellectual potential, she was taken from her family on Beargrass, and moved to the nearby moon of Siyeh, the headquarters of the protectorate that governed known space. Fedotova was only 18, but already a recognized expert in geophysics and plate tectonics. With three more years of academy training, she might go on to crew a survey shuttle...or head up an entire science division! The entire academy knew Fedotova was bound for greatness...Fedotova knew it most of all.
Beside her sat Lee Yun Jie, another student the Protectorate had moved to Siyeh...but from considerably farther away. "Yun", as he preferred to be called, was from the burgeoning colony of Von Neumann Prime, several systems away. The son of a plasma physicist and a botanist, who headed up one of the science-collectives on Von Neumann, Yun had gone on to excel in his primary education...but unlike Fedotova, the Protectorate had not recruited him for his intelligence. When the Protectorate had requested he board a Cryoshuttle from his home to the distant moon of Siyeh, at the age of 8, they already had plans for a fleet of warships...and they needed excellent individuals like Yun to pilot them. That was a decade ago, and the ships were still under construction...but they would likely be complete by the time Yun graduated. Gupta's lecture was at the edge of his comprehension, but he strained to reach what he could not grasp: this could be important someday. Someday the Protectorate might call on him to execute some rapid burn around an alien moon, or reverse a ship's course and engage an enemy in hiding, just beyond the range of a scanner...he had to be ready. He had to know this stuff.
At the back, in the considerably larger row of conscript-students who could really care less, lurked Everett Sledd, who had one of the lowest marks in the class, and no hope of following along with Gupta's description of long-period comets. His attention was focused on Fedotova herself...not exactly the prettiest girl in the ranks, but what a story it would be. Sledd's conquests were already the stuff of legend around the academy, but this would be the crowning achievement to several years of diligent work...he suspected his advances would work as well. Fedotova needed to loosen up. He resolved to approach her at the next concorse social event and offer her "a ride on the sledd." That never failed. Sledd, like most of the academy, was a conscript from Beargrass colony itself. Service was ostensibly mandatory, but the Protectorate had no luck enforcing its own laws...he stuck around for the paycheck, most of which he sent to his family on one of the polar communities. The protectorate needed a steady supply of conscripts to service ever-increasing demands for parts and mineral deliveries to the outlying colonies, and maintain the fleet of S.C.E. Scoutships in their search for habitable worlds to colonize. Sledd was content to finish out his time in the academy, serve ten years as a ground crew maintenance technician on Hawkweed or Musette, and then...well, he hadn't planned on anything after that. He'd finished his training in servicing shuttles and duranium welding two years ago...the knowledge imparted by the academy after that point would only be useful in the unlikely event that the Big Sky Protectorate got involved in a ground war. In said war, his academy training would obligate him to serve as a captain...or a lieutenant...or something...he forgot. The point was it was unlikely. Fedotova...now *she* was a certainty. He could feel it...
And at the very back of the room, Lara Panin drew spiral designs in a book of unlined paper. She had no interest whatsoever in Gupta's lecture, because her success was assured...unlike the others at the back, she was not a conscript...in fact her family had secured her membership in the Academy through byzantine political maneuverings far beyond Panin's ken. They knew the Governor of Siyeh. They'd cashed in a lifetime of favors to get Panin a seat at the Academy in the hopes that after graduation, she might get deployed to Divaajin...while not exactly a second Earth, it was the closest thing to the old world in charted space. One could even go outside there (for brief periods). While assignments from the Protectorate were in theory based entirely on merit, the Panin family had ways of bending the rules.
finally at the point where I can tell a story over years, rather than centuries...which career should the next several stories follow?
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Fedotova was only 18, but already a recognized expert in geophysics and plate tectonics. With three more years of academy training, she might go on to crew a survey shuttle...or head up an entire science division!
These two things sound slightly different... which I suppose suggests the relative importance of commanding even a small ship, in this nascent age of space travel.
...he suspected his advances would work as well. Fedotova needed to loosen up. He resolved to approach her at the next concorse social event and offer her "a ride on the sledd." That never failed.
Boo! Boooooooo!! :P
And at the very back of the room, Lara Panin drew spiral designs in a book of unlined paper. She had no interest whatsoever in Gupta's lecture, because her success was assured...unlike the others at the back, she was not a conscript...in fact her family had secured her membership in the Academy through byzantine political maneuverings far beyond Panin's ken. They knew the Governor of Siyeh. They'd cashed in a lifetime of favors to get Panin a seat at the Academy in the hopes that after graduation, she might get deployed to Divaajin...while not exactly a second Earth, it was the closest thing to the old world in charted space. One could even go outside there (for brief periods). While assignments from the Protectorate were in theory based entirely on merit, the Panin family had ways of bending the rules.
This cannot possibly end well, except for the readership. ;D
finally at the point where I can tell a story over years, rather than centuries...which career should the next several stories follow?
A tough choice. Naturally I would vote for all four, if possible, but I am only too well aware of the demands on an author's time. I suppose I can at least offer a priority list. From most to least interesting, in my own meaningless opinion:
- Lara Panin is probably my choice as the most interesting to follow. There is no doubt she will be a deeply unsympathetic character, but in a game which tends to consist of players dominating hapless NPRs I would look forward to seeing what kind of misadventures a hapless heiress might get her poor crews into.
- Everett Sledd is a horrible person with horrible puns, but the hilarious antics of not-Zapp Brannigan will I am certain make excellent reading material. Although this guy sounds more competent, but not so motivated as to be a modern-day Captain Kirk.
- Lee Yun Jie would be a decent pick, being a second-tier recruit but not unqualified I am sure he would perform passably but lacking in brilliance will ensure that he experiences real struggles as he journeys through space. Mainly he just seems like a generic character though, the likeable guy who tries hard but isn't an otherworldly talent, basically a standard protagonist.
- Ivana Fedotova honestly sounds like a total Mary Sue, I am sure any character here will be interesting to follow but given that the player race is usually a race of Mary Sues stomping NPRs I think a change of pace is best.
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Clearly there can only be one choice, we must follow the adventures of Professor Taub.
Pulled unwillingly from his classroom he is drafted into service on an scientific exploration ship, studying new worlds and anomalies on the very frontier of space.
If forced to pick from the presented options then;
1. Panin, for the reasons my colleague and friend nuclearslurpee has outlined
2. Fedotova. But only on the condition she massively cocks things up and then, crucially, doesn't make amends or learn valuable lessons, but instead continues to make mistakes. Seeing her and the SCE making excuses for her constant failure would be amusing.
3. Yun Jie. Follow him as he journeys across space and time hunting for a personality.
4. Sledd. Only if his first trip into space involves an air lock and no space suit.
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We really should follow all four to get different viewpoints in what is going on!
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I very much enjoy the idea of showing only snapshots of a very unusual setting and deliberately withholding all the weird stuff that's going on. New post soon, I started another setting which I'll do more traditional fiction for much later. Back to this one tomorrow.
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I very much enjoy the idea of showing only snapshots of a very unusual setting and deliberately withholding all the weird stuff that's going on. New post soon, I started another setting which I'll do more traditional fiction for much later. Back to this one tomorrow.
This is an idea I can get behind, personally I adore when an author has the, shall we say, cojones to not reveal every detail of the world to the reader out of a misconceived need to explain themselves, thus leaving something to the imagination. I swear I do not mean to self-indict. :P
The trick of course is making sure that there is still enough of a tangible thread for the readers to follow that confusion arises from the nature of the mystery rather than from muddled writing, and this is not an easy trick to pull off as viewers of the television show Lost can attest.
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=============================
STORY FOUR: REFERENCES
=============================
ten years later, 310 years after first transit. Aboard the TR Agamemnon
Gunsight, Burnell System, Low Orbit.
When the Montana expedition tunneled into the Laurent System three centuries ago, it carried 324 full-length feature films from earth, thanks to a last-minute digitization/transcription program by the Severean Institute. Subsequent searches of hastily gathered personal effects and last-minute laser-transmission downloads increased that amount to 540.
Lieutenant Everette Sledd, of the Second Infantry Regiment, had seen 539 of them (He'd never made time to the see the old Black and White Key Largo, starring Humphry Bogart and Lauren Bacall, but he had a good idea what it was about.)
Sledd believed, then, that it fell to him to give an inspirational speech before the transport made planetfall. About 100 men had gathered in hanger 3: his platoon and stragglers from about a dozen others, who knew Sledd was about to say something of importance. He looked out over the bedraggled squad before him: certainly not the clean cut, organized, rank-and-file from the old war movies: that level of discipline was impossible outside of a few military enclaves on Beargrass and Siyeh. They passed a cursory inspection: most guns appeared to be in working order. No uniforms sported egregious tears, and there was only a little fraying here and there. A few folks even had spare clips of ammunition.
No one knew exactly what to expect: the Protectorate had carried out a half-dozen corsair enforcement actions in the last 50 years: glorified raids against pirate fortresses with less than a hundred halfway-committed criminals, generally armed with chemical rifles and a cannon or two. The Soderbergs were not pirates. There were millions of them, and the best minds of the Protectorate were unsure whether they even processed information like ordinary humans: there were wild rumors of Jungian hive-minds and bizarre experiments that enhanced their strength and cognition to superhuman levels...it was all conjecture. No one had so much as attempted radio contact with Gunsight in 20 years.
"Brothers" Sledd began. "What we do in Life echoes in Eternity....we have been chosen, each and every one of us, to do something glorious in the name of the protectorate. Three-dozen hostages on Gunsight depend on us. I don't know what unspeakable things those Soderbergs have planned for them...or for us...but I know this: if they give us hell, we can climb out of hell, one inch at a time. Nothing is over until we decide it is. A day may come when the courage of protectorate soldiers, such as you fine fellows, fails...when we forsake our friends...and break all bonds of fellowship...but that day is not today."
"Our orders are clear: six hours ago, gunships cleared the skies over gunsight to safeguard our landfall. There's an even chance the Soderbergs will keep to their word and not engage as we make planetfall...but I never play the odds. My reckoning is that it's going to be a few thousand guys killing each other...but I guess that's better than 20 million. If they close on the landing site, it's gonna be 2,000 of us versus at least 5,000 of them...with a few orbital gunships to even the odds...but like I said, I never play the odds. Ion bombardment from orbit isn't gonna win this battle. YOU, you folks here, you're what's going to make the difference...
...thats about all I have to say. I've never been a poet or a scholar, but I can pass on a maxim from the world we left behind: pain heals, chicks dig scars, glory lasts forever."
An hour later, the Agamemnon made landfall on Gunsight...
-
I wonder how many other people voted for the violent option in the hope that the subsequent conflict might kill Sled? I know I did.
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chhhhhhhharrrrrgggggeeee
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==================
STORY FIVE: ADHERENCE
==================
Three Days Later
The recently deceased Captain Helia Costades lay dead in a nearby ditch
Newly promoted Captain Everette Sledd wiped sweat from his eyes and adjusted the goggles on his survival suit, in a hope of getting some better read on the indecipherable readout before him. He tried to focus on the situation at hand, and not the fact that his left side was covered with small specks of his predecessors blood.
"Green square is us," He said.
"Correct sir." Lance Corporal Chesterton said.
"Red crooked diamondy things are infantry formations...enemies...the ones with the cross-hatchy bits I mean."
"Again, correct."
"What does it mean if there's a big x on top."
"Whole smegload of infantry sir."
"And the blue is the rest of the 2nd Regiment."
"As of this morning sir."
"And the diamonds with the pockmarks?"
"Concussion rifle nests, sir."
"Why didn't the map display the one just over the ridge?"
"We didn't know about it this morning, sir."
Captain Sledd examined Captain Costades' body again. "No, I suppose we did not." He said. "So...there could be any number of enemies off to the west that aren't on this map."
"Yessir, could be thousands."
"Crap. but there could also be nothing out there at all."
"Yes."
"Interesting...Well, last question, the red diamond in the Fjord north thats the objective..the Sea-Skimmer."
"The...uh...I believe former objective sir." Lace Corporal Chesterton replied. "Situation has changed since the ambush. I rather think the captain's previous order to regroup along the line of organization, South near Paintbrush Lake, is prudent."
"Yeah, well I'm the captain now." Captain Sledd grumbled.
The situation was disorienting, to be sure. He was in command of a squad of a few hundred, part of an advance landing force given the rather ambitious goal of capturing the largest source of fissile material on the planet...30 kilometers away along a frozen river-valley. If strategic assessments were accurate they were outnumbered perhaps seven to one, by opponents who all looked exactly alike. Whoever the original Soren Soderberg was, Sledd knew at least that the man was no slouch: since planetfall, Sledd had been locked in an unremitting melee with hundreds of his progeny: six foot three Finnish titans with stringy black hair and ice-blue eyes. The assessment released this morning predicted with high confidence that the Soderbergs were already running low on ammunition and basic supplies...but of course the same assessment had failed to record the presence of the concussion rifle nest that wiped out a quarter of his men.
There were several options available to Sledd, but he was in no position to properly weigh them. Instead, he gave the first order that came to him...
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I see from the map that we are invading Space Turkey, surely this can only go well.
As for what comes next, the answer is not "what is the best option", but rather what would a lazy, womanizing bastard of a soldier do? The answer of course is nothing. Bayonets are excellent for roasting marshmallows, yes?
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Booo. I am gravely disappointed in this turn of events.
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("There's only one option at this point men, while that big red x is distracted, we're slipping down the river-valley and capturing that uranium. They'll thank us later!")
========================
STORY FIVE: CONSEQUENCE
========================
Four days later
Though Sledd had know way of knowing this, his decision was by far the best one he could have made. The Soderbergs had not, could not, have expected this. Decades of concerted planning by sophants bioengineered for tactical brilliance had failed to account for a single moment of blinding stupidity. Sledd had, by sheer illogic, maneuvered the better part of a regiment behind advancing enemy lines. Miles away, thousands upon thousands of Soderbergs were closing in around the field headquarters of the invading Protectorate. Meanwhile, Sledd's division of a few hundred stood on the brink of capturing the most important objective on the whole damn planet.
Much of the facility was in flames, its exterior walls cratered and buckled. From a few half-shattered pillboxes, sporadic concussion cannon bursts spayed forth in low, random rumbles. They were running low on ammo, but they were shooting with wild abandon. Desperation perhaps? That seemed likely. Through the smoke and the crack of cannon fire, Captain Sledd could not discern much...except that he was winning. At least one of his Haymaker battlesuits was still operational, its light anti-vehicle rockets making short work of the Soderberg squadrons still massing at the mouth of the facility. In a few moments, when the smoke cleared, he would lead a detachment of a dozen heavy infantrymen into the facility, capture the uranium, and return to headquarters a goddamned hero. He could practically taste the Champaign, feel the weight of some enormous medal or other pinned to his chest.
Another rocket...another roar...another thump deep in his chest...the clatter of armored bodies falling to the earth a few hundred meters away.
Then Sledd heard the hydraulic thuds of the haymaker trampling away off to the East
...then silence.
...then the slightest breeze.
As the smoke cleared away, Sledd could see the facility gates, beyond the mangled blast doors. A massive, meaty Soderberg corpse here, another there, a small pile over there...no standing survivors, at least, none he could discern. The bastards were damn good at hiding though, and quarters in there would be tight, with plenty of opportunities to get shot from the crumbling facility towers.
Still, Sledd had come this far on impulse alone. He was not about to stop now.
"Hot damn! Big Voice is go." Sledd cried. "They are black on ammo, let's take the gate!"
His team rushed forward in the teeth of sporadic concussion cannon fire, only a few rounds remained, surely, and none struck home. The squad was through the gates in seconds, into the interior facility in less than a minute. Steel doors slid open, a few surviving soderbergs stepped forth, pistols raised, they were fast, but Sledd's bayonet was faster. Gunfire in the room beyond. From where? Sledd saw the barrel raise just a second too late, the gun spat a shard of something deadly through his right arm, before a protectorate infantryman laid his attacker low.
"Thank you, Lance Corporal." Sledd said, examining the bloody hole torn through the fleshy part of his bicep. He winced. He made a fist. Things still worked. Lucky miss.
"You're welcome sir." Lance Corporal Chesterton said, snapping a lazy salute.
"You want some ice on that?" Another soldier said, with a light chuckle. Medical supplies had run out days ago.
A clatter deeper down the corridor...
"We gotta move!" Sledd said.
His team rushed down the hall, meeting only light resistance, two more half-dazed Soderbergs who still didn't seem to fully grasp that their primary uranium depot was under attack. No casualties, no fuss, he could barely feel the sting in his right arm.
"Move move move!" Sledd said, driving his team on through smoke, and a few scattered fires...and into blinding sunlight?
At first Sledd thought he had stepped into an interior courtyard. Implausible in a fortress like this. Then it all made sense: a mortar from a Haymaker had punched a hole in the ceiling here, exposing a large computronics chamber to the outside air. A few consoles smoked and sparked. No signs of soderbergs...until Lance Corporal Chesterton dropped dead to his immediate right, a hole drilled clean through his temple.
"SNIPER!" Another soldier cried, and the squad dove for cover.
"On the roof! Two of them! Mark..." came another cry, then a shot rang out, and another soldier dropped dead.
Another shot...another death. There was precious little cover in the server room.
Captain Sledd crouched behind a steel support beam and unjammed his gun as shot after shot rang out from the ceiling above. Then he heard the dreadful CLANG CLANG CLANG of serial shots against the side of the steel beam.
They'd picked the perfect position. They'd anticipated this.
He'd have to do something they wouldn't anticipate.
...of course there were really only two options he could think of...
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Though Sledd had know way of knowing this, his decision was by far the best one he could have made. The Soderbergs had not, could not, have expected this. Decades of concerted planning by sophants bioengineered for tactical brilliance had failed to account for a single moment of blinding stupidity.
Truly the most realistic depiction of warfare on this board. (https://i.imgur.com/DYAEiOu.gif)
...of course there were really only two options he could think of...
I am simply shocked that neither of these options is to send wave after wave of his own men at them until the snipers reach their preset kill limits.
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I am simply shocked that neither of these options is to send wave after wave of his own men at them until the snipers reach their preset kill limits.
As long as Sledd leads the way and gets shot first, I support this plan.
Admittedly I've forgotten quite why I want to see the man get shot, but let us not get dragged down with trivial details.
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it's tied.
24 hours until his fate is decided
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it's tied.
24 hours until his fate is decided
Direct charge up the center it is!
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================
STORY SIX: REVERENCE
================
Left, around the column.
BANG BANG
Captain Sledd squeezed off two shots into the torso of one Soderberg Sniper.
BANG
He felt the shot before he heard it as the other sniper fired back and caught him full in the throat...
The pain was incredible, transcendent really, it knocked him full outside of himself.
As his body fell backwards into the dust and broken glass, and his squad fired back, round after round, Everett saw himself from outside himself: powerful limbs useless, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Jaw clenched, chest working furiously as his lungs rapidly filled with blood.
In that place outside himself, he could think. The pain was happening to someone else, someone that was not long for this world. He knew this was true...even if, by some miracle, the firefight died down, and his squad could rush to his side, there were no medical supplies that could deal with an injury like this. Blood would continue to pool in his chest, he would fight for air that would never come, his thoughts would slow to a crawl...then stop entirely.
...only a few thoughts left. Better make them worthwhile.
Everett Sledd thought of the mission. A success. He had very little doubt his men would take the facility. Without a steady supply of fissile material, the military installations of the soderbergs would be overrun in weeks: the planet would be firmly under the command of the Protectorate in months. After that: who knew what would happen. Certainly not Everette Sledd. Maybe this world, with its tolerable temperatures and sophisticated laboratory complexes, would become a major research hub. Maybe the Soderbergs, with their extensive genetic know-how, would become close allies of the government on Siyeh. Maybe...but maybe the whole thing would come apart in a few years. Impossible to say. Not worth dwelling on.
Everett Sledd thought of Earth, that utopia his distant ancestors had abandoned three centuries ago. Humans were scattered through creation now, building tiny communities on a dozen worlds so far apart in space they were, for most purposes, in separate universes entirely. No world could really be called home...with a few exceptions, no human had ever really been outside in centuries: felt the warmth of the sun on naked skin, swam in the sea, lay down on whistling grass...this was sad. He could not stand to think on this for long.
And so, Everett Sledd turned his thoughts to an academy class...ten years ago now, at least. He didn't remember a damn thing about the class, of course, but as his thoughts slowed to a crawl and darkness gathered at the edges of his consciousness, he seized on a ephemeral recollection: a pretty girl, in the front of the class, who'd caught his attention one dreary day. What was her name again? He'd talked her up at a concourse social event, but didn't have the nerve to speak for long. More than the green dress...it was that smile... it has hard to find the words...
such a pleasant memory, that smile...worth it...all worth it...
***
Nine days later, Herschel System
***
The Maui dutifully circled the moon of Musette, bathed in the grim grey-green glow of the gas giant Lucretia. They'd been in low orbit for nearly a year, watching small mining settlements drift past while the team aboard the survey vessel performed diagnostic tests for the benefit of roving mining bands scouting for more patches of duranium on the surface of the desolate moon. It was thankless work, but critical to the future of humanity: all Protectorate efforts, civilian and military, ran on the stuff. Still, Ivana Fedotova felt her science division was capable of so much more. The Maui, along with companion geosurvey shuttles Iberia and India, were built by the society of colonial explorers for deep space survey, part of a small fleet of scout ships ultimately constructed to scan the starways for a second Earth.
...the war against the Technocracy had slowed that effort considerably. Every spare crate of maintenance supplies, every drop of hydrosorium fuel, was necessary in the fight to neutralize the Soderberg menace. Most of the fleet was grounded while the invasion of the Burnell system was underway.
...or at least that's what Lieutenant Commander Fedotova presumed, until the transmission from the surface of the moon came blazing through.
"The maintenance tender will arrive within two weeks, with orders from Siyeh. You are to make the Maui's science division ready for transit in the meantime, your orders are to prepare for a long mission to deep, deep space." Commander Cho said, from the surface. "I will assume command of the ship and the fleet upon arrival of the tender."
"Any idea where we're going sir?" Fedotova said, maintaining her composure, if only just.
"That's all I know, scout." Her superior replied. "Though I assume if they're willing to spare the supplies, it must be important...and I assume if I don't already know, it must be secret. I can tell you're intrigued."
"Just happy to be on the move again." Fedotova replied. She couldn't help but smile...