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Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Naxiv was having a bad day. They had just deployed to the Canus sector of the Adamant 4 quadrant (already affectionately called Adam's Mutt by some, Naxiv included). Upon deployment, everyone in the Vaxin Expeditionary Force had been assigned a living space and a work detail. Most everyone had a living space on the planet below, but not Naxiv. He had to live in one of the temporary (and very cramped) Hab units. It orbited not far from where he now was working. His work detail was in the construction of a system of orbital construction platforms. If there was anything Naxiv hated more than cramped living quarters, it was space construction.
"Why couldn't I have been assigned to a nice organics farm", he muttered to himself as he tried for a third time to align the support beam up with the rest of the platform framework. He inched his forward thrusters up a bit. "Dammit, missed again." He was struggling to overcome the inertia of the beam and bring it back into position for another try when his comm chirped, "Naxiv, you worthless hunk of space rubbish, haven't you attached that beam yet??? I've got 3 teams waiting to get started on the ventral section, and they're all waiting on YOU!!!" Ah, yes. Just when he thought that his day couldn't get any worse, he'd reported to his work detail to find that his supervisor was "Hardnose" Hadix. There was no love lost between them ever since that "incident" on Ortega 3, some 7 years previous. "If you'd just get off my back for 5 minutes, Hardnose, I'd have gotten this beam and three more connected", Naxiv grumbled under his breath as he carefully aligned the beam for his fourth try. Just as he activated his jets, his comm screamed in his ear, "What in Nivax's Comet is the hold up down there?!?!?!" Hadix watched as the beam missed the mark yet again. He was so raging mad he felt like his head was about to explode inside his helmet. "Damn that Naxiv!" he screamed to noone in particular, "We're already behind schedule!" -- "We're already behind schedule. The Platform 1 framework has yet to be completed, and the schedule calls for starting the framework for Platform 2 in 8 days." "So, Xidan, what you're saying, basically, is that we are already off to a bad start." "Not entirely, sir." Commadore Xidan managed to maintain a perfectly smooth hover, despite how much her jets were quivering. Admiral Daxin Cavix was not known to believe in the addage, "Don't kill the messenger because the news is bad". Not that Cavix had killed anyone, of coarse. He was known, however, to be rather liberal with handing out demotions. "The main colony forces have settled in quite nicely, all our production facilities are Online, and already Mineral production is above expected levels." It's always nice to have some good news to help offset the bad, she thought to herself. Even if none of the good news is under her perview. Cavix hovered perfectly still behind his workstation. From here he could access information on any aspect of his command almost instantaneously. At the moment, however, all his concentration was focused upon his Construction Minister. He watched as her attitude shifted slightly to the left, then as she quickly corrected it. After a moment more of silent vivisection, he released her from his gaze and replied, "That's all well and good, but we need those Platforms operational on schedule. If you have to, have Commadore Vacix pull some workers out of the Organics Farm, and you put them to work on the platforms. I don't care how you do it, Xidan, just get those Platforms Online! Dismissed." Cavix watched impassively as Xidan tried not to rush out the door. Of coarse, Vacix will throw a fit about losing production in our already weak area of Organics. Which he should; otherwise he wouldn't be a good Production Minister. Cavix sighed. It wasn't an ideal startup, but it could be worse. After all, the accursed Rage Collective could be just beyond the warppoint. Initial intelligence reports indicate that there is no Rage presence in this quadrant (yet), but he won't know that for sure until he can send a scout craft out. "And we can't do that," Cavix mumbled to himself, "until we get those Platforms operational." -- Naxiv finished packing his bag. He glanced once more at the tellex floating over the now empty bunk. "Naxiv Civix, E4, demoted to E3 due to substandard performance. Transfered to Organics Farm, Alpha Continent. Effective immediately." "Hardnose" had ranted and raved for 30 minutes about his "slow and sloppy workmanship" that would "probably all have to be reworked anyway". He had especially enjoyed telling him about the demotion, and had insisted on removing the rank slash himself. "Yea, well, it was worth it to get out of this miserable place", Naxiv muttered, rubbing his chest where the rank slash had been. "And it was definately worth it to get out from under ol' Hardnose." He started towards the door, but misjudged the proper vector and smacked into the doorframe. For a moment he just hovered there, nursing both his bruised shoulder and his simmering frustrations. Then he stormed back to his bunk, grabbed the tellex, and ripped it into tiny little shreds. As he floated out of the cloud of confetti, he smiled glumly, knowing how much of a pain in the jets it would be to clean all that paper out of the atmosphere scrubbers. Then he glanced at the wall-clock as he reached for his bag as it gently bumped into the far bulkhead. He put the bag over his shoulder and started for the door. Then it hit him. "0958! Oh no! The Transport!" He jetted out the door and slammed his head into the upper doorjam. Cursing profusely and holding his now bleeding forehead, he rushed off towards the airlock, and arrived just in time to see the transport pull away from the hab unit. "Damn, Naxiv, you'll be late for your own funeral", Bevix, his former (well, soon to be former) hab-mate chuckled. Then he glanced at Naxiv's forehead, shook his head, and went back to his dinner. Naxiv stared dumbly out the small porthole; watching the transport disappear from view while blood oozed out from between his fingers. [ May 20, 2002, 11:44: Message edited by: dumbluck ] |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Interesting, some RP for one of my games. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon7.gif
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Just fulfilling my game obligations. You did say it was a role-playing game. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/rolleyes.gif
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
All of my games have said that. You are the only person that has done anything external with it. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon7.gif
Anyways, I didn't say to stop doing it or anything. I might even decide to join in at a later date when something interesting happens with my empire. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon7.gif |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Beware of the Spartan Dogma empire.
I took over the Spartans slot, kept the name and ship set. The new empire description can be found in the Who let the dogs out? thread. -------------------------------------------------- We live for the walk, we die for the walk. Woof! |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
TerranC: LOL! Now there's an original race history! Hope to meet you soon in-game!
IF: I used to think I could be a writer. Every so often, the delusion sets in and I try my hand at it for a while. Besides, I was inspired by all the other game stories running around lately. (Even if they haven't been updated in a while...) |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
What did I do?
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
OOPS! I meant Wardad!!! Where did that come from???????
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
dumbluck: Don't stop writing. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon12.gif
It's good intel http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon10.gif |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Here's My shot at a story; please don't mock me, as I don't have the mind of a pulitzer winner.
http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/tongue.gif As Fallon looked at the torrent weather from his dorm room on his homeworld, he could think nothing but this space race his race had entered into. Fallon was a scholar in the Academy, where he was training to fly the latest fighters developed by Hypersonic Aeronautical labs, some of the finest research institutes for matters in physics, and aeronautical research and development, which included researching deadly fighters that could rip through hostile skies and satellite link-ups. From since day one of his life, Fallon was fascinated with all things flying. His first interest with birds made him an ace student in Nature and head student in a presentation about birds native to his continent in grade 10. Soon, he signed up for a doctorate in ornithology at the Washintowsky University, but he dropped out due to lack of interest. What was interest to him were planes. Fighter planes, Fusion planes, Ordinary Jet planes, anything that flew and he could control, was of interest to him. After dropping out of the Washintowsky University, he quickly enrolled and enlisted at the Academy. It had no formal name, really, as the Federation denied the existence of a Full-fledged paramilitary program, but it was there, nonetheless, under the guise of training people for rescue patrols and jobs in the private sector. Fallon had no interest running courier for people, but he dreamed of piloting the fighters and “airboats”, aeronautical search and rescue platforms, for his nation, for the Federation. But Fallon’s interests quickly ended planetside. He was one of the supporters of banning Ion Drives and Ion-drive equipped ship launches. He also condemned the use of Depleted Uranium cannons and Nuclear weapons in space, as anything used in space, it was sure to affect his planet. But even with strong sentiments, his group could not discourage space travel and development. Space fever grasped the countryside. Everybody was doing the “Spaceage” Dance. Anything commercial now had a space theme in it; and the colonizing of the nearby rock planet of Gillana 3 was heralded as the greatest achievements of their time. Space fever was in full force, and no political movement could stop it. But he was soon put into a dilemma. As Fallon progressed in the academy, word spread among recruiters in the Nation self-defenses forces and the commercial sector of his top score in the unbearable Gillana Gorge scenario, which had broken more than one cadet over time, and his aptitude in weapons control was deemed extraordinary. As the days approached to his graduation, a woman walked into his room, asking for Fallon Kronavesky. Fallon answered the door. The woman described herself as Talon Cealto, an officer in the Federation Intelligence Service. Fallon heard of the FIS, and wondered why they were named the “Intelligence service”. All they did was work as a planetary police service. Nothing like the ruthless former intelligence services of Nations long dead. Fallon had an interest in history also, and he liked reading about past events such as the big food shortage and the Vertisan affair. The FIS had come knocking once or twice before. Only to issue warnings about protesting responsibly, and not to disrupt daily life patterns anymore. They also broke up some of his protests that got out of hand, especially one fanatic began throwing homemade exothermic reaction devices; affectionately named Osomo Bombs. The FIS officer began to speak. She began to speak in a hush-hush voice, telling Fallon of a secret project to launch a fully functioning interstellar vessel complete with a full set of Ion Engines and One Capital ship missile launcher, as they were called when they were used in space. They also began to talk about the launch date and the rate of construction, and that it would be finished in one month. When Fallon asked her if she is telling this to him in order to scare him into silence about the protests, she said no, and said this simple sentence: “The Federation wants you to pilot this vessel, following your graduation.” Fallon became enraged by this offer, and politely asked the FIS officer to step out. The Officer stepped out apologizing about her remarks, but only asked him one favor: “Please consider this offer. Our race’s survival depends on it.” Then, she left into the elevator. After calming down, he began to think about what she said, explicitly the Last sentence she said: “Our race’s survival depends on it.” What did she mean? What is so disturbing that the Federation wouldn’t tell its citizens? Why did they choose me? Then, he decided to accept the offer, not to be a pundit, but to find out what’s going on. As Fallon looked at the torrent weather from his dorm room on his homeworld, he could think nothing but this space race his race had entered into, only to realize that this space race is anything but a race. [ May 23, 2002, 01:01: Message edited by: TerranC ] |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
"So, how is he?"
"Not good. The concussion bLast alone broke 14 of his ribs, along with his left arm. It also likely resulted in complete but temporary loss of hearing, although I expect him to recover it somewhat. Also..." "Somewhat," asked a different speaker. "There will be significant hearing loss in his left ear; he'll recover no more than 25%. But his right ear will most likely recover at least 75% of it's perceptive ability, and possibly up to 95%. More importantly..." "And the burns," inquired another. The doctor looked a bit perturbed at the continual interruptions, but replied, "The burns are quite extensive. Approximately 50% of his body has 3rd degree burns; we had to use neo-tissue transplants to replace most of the destroyed areas of tissue. There will be quite a bit of disfigurement, and no small amount of continual pain for ... about 6 months, until the neo-tissue has been completely assimilated by his body." "When can he return to duty?" The doctor sighs. "I don't know." A murmur of concern sweeps over the room as he continues. "He is in a coma. Now, rest assured, we are working 'round the clock to try to rouse him. I know that we are in a critical stage right now, and I know that he can't be away a moment longer than necessary. However, sometimes the body will shut down the mind to give itself time to heal. I ... I can't make any accurate predictions about his recovery time in that respect. And there is one more thing. The burning propellant.... it invaded his ventral jets. There was extensive damage. He will need several more surgeries, but... but the damage was quite extensive. I really don't know how much mobility can be restored." Commadore Xidan slowly swayed from side to side as the shock of the situation sunk in. "A coma?" "Yes ma'am. His vitals look good, so I don't think we are in any real danger of losing him, but I really can't say when he will be able to return to his duties." "And Commadore Nivax?" "The Research Minister's wounds," replied the doctor, "were quite severe. The concussion bLast amputated his right arm, and crushed most of the bones in his body. The burning propellant... well, ... there was nothing we could do. He expired late Last night." A long, painful silence filled the room. Finally, Commador Xavan looked around the table. No one met her eyes. "Thank you for your report doctor. Dismissed." Xavan watched the doctor jet out of the conference room, watched the door slide shut with a soft *click*. Then her expert eye surveyed the other Ministers gathered at the table. Still, no one would meet her gaze. They knew the task that lay before them, and none of them liked it. Admiral Cavix was a strict but beloved taskmaster. Commadore Nivax had always had a joke to lighten a tense moment; now his empty chair only added sorrow to this dreadful occasion. Xavan, as second in command, opened the meeting. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you all know why we are here, but for the record, I must inform you of the reason this emergency meeting was called. We are here due to the incapacitation of Admiral Cavix, and it is our duty, as a group, to lead our forces. "By unfortunate chance, command has fallen on our shoulders. If Admiral Cavix recovers and is allowed to return to duty, this burden shall fall from us. But if he does not, then we must carry on, and follow the mandate set forth for this Expeditionary Force by High Command. Are there any questions?" Silence was her only reply. "All right. Our first order of business, then, is the vacant position of Research Minister... |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Images and sensations swirled through his mind like delicate vapor tendrals stirred by a gentle breeze. He grasped desperately for stability, for perspective, for continuity. But try as he might, he had no more success than if he were grasping at the vapor tendrals, and the cacophony of noise in his mind continued unabated.
The smell of burning flesh... "This is our prototype missle system. It uses a new propellant..." His breath is crushed from his chest by the shockwave... Commadore Nivax, flashing his winning smile... "5...4...3...2..." Nivax, writhing in agony, his entire body covered with brilliant orange flames.... The realization that this is it, the end, his death... A searing, burning pain more intense than anything he has ever felt before.... The brilliant flash as the missle casing disintigrates right in front of them.... "... The warhead is disarmed for the test...." A *BOOM* so loud, it shook his every bone, his every organ, his every cell.... Head spinning.... still can't catch my breath.... "....We'll be test-firing it today, if you would like to observe..." The wail of emergency sirens, which seem oddly distant, muted.... "...1...ignition..." Darkness. Utter darkness. No, wait, I'm not ready! There is light, a veiled light. And .... sounds? Harsh, rythmic sounds, very very quiet. Not distant, almost as if there is something over my ears... The veiled lights, the swirling veiled lights.... Suddenly, recognition stuck. Admiral Cavix was peering intently at the inside of his eyelids. He opened them, and gazed up at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life: the drab ceiling of a hospital ICU ward. He heard the faint yet steady *beep*... *beep*... *beep*... of medical equipment. His heart raced in exaltation at the realization that he was alive. The nurse checking his chart noticed the heart monitor's increased rate immediately. "Admiral! You're awake! Just lie still now, everything is allright." Her voice seemed muted. As Cavix began to take in his surroundings, he noticed that everything seemed very muted. He could only just make out the steady beeps of the monitoring equipment off to his right. The whole world seemed to be holding it's breath. He shifted his head, and looked around the room. The nurse had turned away for a moment, and was obviously talking excitedly into her comm unit....except that he couldn't hear her. It's not that he couldn't make out the words, but that he couldn't hear her voice at all, not even the rustle of a whisper. Other than the nurse and the miriad of medical equipment, the room was empty. The walls were the same drab off-white as the ceiling. No texturing, no pictures, no windows. No table, no chairs. He tried to ask "Where am I", but his throat was so dry that he could utter not a sound. He tried to raise up, to grab the nurses arm to get her attention. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. A touch of panic entered his mind, and his heart skipped a beat. This got the nurse's attention. "The doctor will be here in a moment. Just lie still, you're in good hands." He realized that she looked as if she were shouting, yet he could barely hear her. His lower extremeties began to throb with a dull pain. ----- more to come.... |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
So, any opinions so far? Any other history lessons from my fellow game members? (After all, why should I be the only one giving away valuable Intel? http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/rolleyes.gif )
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
EARS UP! Packleader Snarf eyed the troops and they looked tough and sharp. Their ears and back bone were properly pointed to the Heavens, the front paws held together in prayer, weight balanced on the hinds, tail properly curled , and the butt off the ground. Snarf conitinues, I am proud of your progress, your dedication, and your unquestioning devotion to duty. You have been told you were training with traditional melee weapons for the Imperial honor guard. Who ever believes it can take a big step back, the silent may stay. Today we will be briefed by Talma from internal security.
Snarf was rattled when he first saw his former *****. Five years of family service with her is enough for anyone he mulled. In the Masters name, why do we have to work together? It’s just not policy. Then thought of her Master Thesis rose like a cold chill up his spine. Talma addressed the Pack. K9s! Today you will engage in ritual combat with a fierce enemy for the greater glory of the Big Dog bloodline. The enemy you face is disciplined, cunning, and thrice the dog you are. Their boast of 1 for 5 gives us a slim advantage. Their PSI bark is worse than their bite, but each of you have been selected for your thick headed resistance. You will be facing gifted Dobermans, not the legendary Dobermonsters and you will not need silver bullets. Officially the combat will never have happen and you will report a clash with devolutionist backsliders. Questions? How can this be, Barked one soldier? We are the gifted. How can there be honor in combat with the ungifted. Talma answers, We are thrice gifted and we continue the Masters work with the lessor gifted. We must fight them at their level of development for the sake of honor and respect from their leader. This is wrong! Protested another. The Masters loved us! Talma suck in her breath and barely muttered, the Masters loved sheep too. Instantly Snarf was on her, at her throat, and on top. She lay back submissively and piddled. Snarf growled lowly, no heresy in front of the troops. Snarf was secretly elated by her public submission. Snarf then looked at her guards still standing rigid and slowly realized he had been played. The guards smiled at him knowing that the troops would now defend Talma to the death. Snarf would have to continue the briefing, and by doing so implicate himself. SNARF, barked the commander, Finish the briefing, and the head for the bath, we can’t have a corpse smelling of *****. Snarfs ears jumped, he was really rattled now. Talma chimed in, There is not enough time for the drying track, a blow dry would look better for the cameras don’t you think. The commander said, Do it Snarf and that’s an order. Snarf finished the briefing and headed off to the baths. Inside Snarf was sulking, a BATH, a fluffy blow dry, before battle, and in front of cameras. He swore Talma will pay for this. ------------------------------------------------- We live for the walk, we die for the walk. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Well done. I imagine it's not easy writing from the point of view of a Canine race like that. My stories all end up sounding like humnans even when I am trying to write about non-humans.
Geo |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Well, I guess not. I suppose I am writing this purely for my own enjoyment, then.
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
I like these story.
Good work. In fact I just registered to congratulate dumbluck about them.... |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Admiral Daxin Cavix fidgeted in his seat. What a novel concept. His seat. He had never "sat" before Last week. No one had, for that matter. Now that's all he ever did. Sit. But he had to be able to move about; he would not allow himself to be a cripple, to be destitute. He refused to admit even to himself that without his hoversled, that's exactly what he was.
What a monstrosity! A metal contraption, painted red, custom designed and constructed to allow him to jet around "just as if nothing had happened!" Bah! He was still struggling to master these bLasted controls! There were already several scuffs and scratches in that forsaken red paint. He had no doubt that there would be several more before he became proficient in it's use. "How are you getting on with the hoversled, sir?" Commodore Xavan had come "just to see how you were doing", but he knew the real purpose of her visit: he was being evaluated. High Command had to determine whether he could still perform his duties as Expeditionary Force Commander, and Xavan was his judge. The logical choice, of coarse; she was the highest ranking of his ministers. That didn't make being evaluated by a junior any more pleasant, of coarse. "Well", he silently growled, "let's see just how well my evaluation is going." As he did a quick and nearly perfect figure eight around the room, he lied, "Quite well, actually. I couldn't wait to get my arm cast off so that I could start working with it. This machine is a beauty to control. I could almost do it in my sleep." He was lucky, twice during his little exhibition he nearly lost control and careened into a wall. But Xavan seemed quite impressed. "I didn't think that you would be getting around so well, so soon. Congratulations, sir. And how is your side doing?" "It is still rather tender; I still have to take the painkillers every once in a while. Doctor Haxen says that 3 of my ribs are still fractured, but that all are healing nicely." He flashes her a conspiratory grin. "He's also quite pleased with himself regarding how little the disfigurements from the neotissue are manifesting. He says that within 3 months they won't even be noticable." A moment of awkward silence follows, as Xavan seems unsure of how to end the conversation. Cavix realizes that his chance has come. "You know, the doctor's don't let me get much news in here. They seem to think that the universe has stopped turning, and won't start up again until they say so. How's everything going out there?" Xavan's discomfort becomes even more evident on her face; which says a lot, considering that she is his Political Minister. He knows why, of coarse. Since he is on a Medical Relief of Duty, he technically isn't the EFC right now. Therefore, since most of the strategic info is "need to know", and he doesn't currently need to know... He has put her in a moral quandary. That was his intention, of coarse. How much information she is willing to divulge is a good indication of how likely she is to report that he is capable of continuing in his command role to High Command. "Honestly, sir, I really shouldn't tell you anything. As you well know, our Strategic Readiness Status is classified..." "Oh, I know that." He gives her an understanding smile, trying to set her doubts asside. "I'm not asking for specifics, of coarse, just a feel of the situation," he countered. "Come on, Xavan," he silently pleaded, "trust me". "Well..." Xavan looked at him, torn between loyalty to her Commander and her orders. For a brief moment she wavered in indecision, her hover becoming erratic as she tottered between two opposing forces in her life. It wasn't the first time that Cavix had "bent the rules", so to speak. She considered it a bad precedent to set, but... Suddenly she came to a decision. "We're doing very well. Our orbital construction platform network is fully operational, and our Scout ships have begun reconnaissance in the surrounding systems. Preliminary reports are in line with the initial Intel reports on the quadrant. Overall, we are on schedule." Cavix smiled warmly, putting on his most friendly air. "Thanks. It's good to know that everything is in your capable hands." He found out what he wanted to know. He knew she would send a favorable report about his condition. High Command would likely follow her recommendation; sending a new Command Level unit to this distant quadrant would be difficult, and inefficient. And it would be a waste. He knew he could still fulfill his duties. It was his sole reason for existence. If he weren't in command, what else would he do? |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Thanks. At least I know that a few people actually like my stories...
ummm... what does your signature mean???? http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/confused.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/confused.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/confused.gif |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
"In his house in R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming." It's a quote from H.P. Lovecraft's "The Call of Cthulhu".
The second line is "Hail! Hail! Chthulhu dreams!", although to be picky, it's usually spelled "Ia!" (Or even "Ďa!", if you want to be really picky. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon7.gif |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
To dumbluck and the other writers, keep it up! I keep a running record month-by-month in my own games to refer back to at later times always thinking I'll go in and expand it into a story but rarely have the time. Congrats!
I imagine it is the most challenging (and most satisfying) if you take the point of view of an alien race in one of these games. To do the human point of view is easier but to invent an alien culture and create a story from it must be quite a challenge. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Galactic Broadcast Send out on Light Wave Bandwidth Level 7
To all members of the Antarctica Collective. Lord Michael is dead. Long live Lord Tesco. As of 2401.3 all trade and commerance with non-Antarctians may commence again. If you feel that you are entitled to a fair market claim for loss of income contact the nearest Antarctian collective work centre for Forms 10453234.123-a, 10453234.125-c. You may be entitled to a lump sum settlement. The following events occurred during the Last 90 days of ….. ….. will prevail. This broad cast will repeat….. Message Alpha Alpha 7…. Date: 2401.2 …. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
It has been a full cycle since Fallon heard the proposition: now he is commanding the ship Aaóuane 1, and he is now one of the decorated officers of Federation Space Agency.
The Last ten months have been eventful. After Ms. Cealto left, Fallon thought hard and hard. He was all for the abandonment of all space travel technology, but he could not get that phrase out of his mind. After getting a long sleep, he took a T-cab and rode down to the FIS building. The building was an enormous structure, which seemed to have rivalled the Gillana Shipyards Control center, Federation Spaceport, and the Gillana resupply depot, which were all in orbit above his planet; all facilities were controlled by planetbound facilities, which were immense like the FIS building. He met an officer at the main foyer, and was asked to follow him. He followed him into a corridor, which was filled with art and photos all in digital hifi frames. One photo that was of particular interest was the controversial photo of the Tainor building, a millenium structure, after it was reduced to rubble. The officer lead him into a conference hall, and told him to take a seat. The officer left a short while after talking to his own communicator. The conference hall was extremely large. Judging by his vision, it seemed to be the equivalent of a large lecture hall multiplied two times, and them some. There were many desks, all with a computer terminal. It wasn't strange; computer terminals were commonplace in Gillana, with many toddlers are now learning how to work computers after they learn how to speak, and develop more refined motor skills. What was strange whoever, was that a computer terminal had been left on, with windows open. Computer terminals are turned off immedeatly turned off automatically when lectures or conferences are done; in order to save energy. He sat down, and accessed the terminal. An article was left on about the possiblity of space travel, dated 20 years ago. Mediocre journalism at best, it was very repetitive about the use of nuclear engines to propel ships into incredible speeds; about 10 parsecs per month. Fallon, even though with his skepticism about Ion engines, was horrified at the idea. Both at the Scientific inaccuracy and possiblity of an engine breach. "Enjoying the article, Mr. Fjornika?" "Excuse me?" "I said, are you enjoying the article?" A person who seemed to be a doctor, or a professor, or some proffesion affiliated with science called out to him, in a mannerly voice. He guessed at his profession for his choice of apparel. "To be frank, no, not really." "Why?" "It is repetitive, it is mind-numbing, it is scientifically incorrect, and it is ridiculous that a nuclear engine could propel a ship for 10 parsecs a month." The old man let out a laugh. "I wrote that article, you know." "My name is Dr. Zurike. I am the head of the Federation Space Agency research and development. You could say that I am the mad scientist trying to pollute Gillana of space." "Sorry Doctor. I didn't..." "Don't worry. I dismissed that myself as heresy, 10 years ago. Nuclear engines won't even lift off a probe in the world without some kind of fallout." "That is why I invented Ion engines." "You invented Ion engines?" "Yes. Through a miraculous accident, I saw ionized xenons being the next fuel for space travel." "What happened?" "One of my colleagues decided to create Neon signs without the proper equipment." They both laughed to heart's content. "Pleasantries aside, Let us get down to business." He got onto the conference hall into the podium, an started to lecture about the nature of Ionized gases and particles, Ion engines, how they work, how you take care of it, and how it uses supplies. After about an hour and a half; he got off the podium and said to Fallon: "We're going for a ride. Follow me." They took the train to the spaceyard control station and went inside. Fallon had never seen anything like it. Enormous screens filled the room, more like a hall than a room, showing the progress of the newest ship created for Federation space travel. Majestic shots from orbit transmitted via satellite linkups and G5 technology showed Fallon the beauty of space. He was then lead into another conference hall and met Mr. Namuko; head of design. Fallon, Dr. Zurike, and Mr. Namuko all talked about space travel for many hours. After Fallon understood the need for CSMs and safety of Ion engines, he accepted the job of captain, despite reservations. Fallon then asked the question that has been plaguing his mind: "When I spoke with an FIS officer, they said that Our race's survival depends on this mission. Why did she say that?" Mr. Namuko explained the question. "Despite what you may hear about prosperity in Gillana and how it is becoming a space age Utopia, the Federation knew that there was a problem." "You see, Gillana's population is expanding rapidly. we are ar 4.8 billion as of right now, and there are no more room for increase in the world population." "The colony ships that was bound for Gillana 3 and 4 were just shuttles attached with a large colony modules, so that it would give us a breathing space." "It is a temporary solution, and more colony missions are scheduled, even though our... unreadiness." "We are also running out of resources in Gillana. Even with massive renurturization programs, the damage done will never be repaired, and we are holding steady just barely above the 100% mark." "We need to explore the galaxy using that ship, to look for other races for technological advancement and habitable, breathable planets." "You and your crew, using your ship, will explore the galaxy with these, what we dubbed, Warp points, that we believe links other systems, as it seems that they are very sensetive to gravitons and open up a warp point." "Gaping holes in space-time that we can use to travel." "We have done simulations to determine whether if the Aaóuane will stand up to the spacetime pressure, and it seemes to be working." "The Aaóuane series will be up and ready a month from now." Sure as sunrise, the Aaóuane 1 was finished. Fallon recieved angry letters from his former friends and colleagues, some of them labeling him as a traitor and accuses him of destroying Gillana, but it didn't matter to him. He knew that they were short-sighted, and didn't give much thought into them. A space elevator shot him into space, into the shipyards and then into the vessle. His crew was already there, and everything was finished and installed, even carpets for the bridge. As he stepped in, he sat in the bridge, and gave the order to launch. The ship slowly came out, and the ion engines propelled the ship out of orbit and into space. It was a marvelous sight to see Gillana from orbit, and see everything at one glance. The thought of being higher than the birds, higher than planes, higher than everything gave him a thrill, and a sense of importance. He then recieved the order to go through the warp point. It was a special feeling, to go into a massive distortion in space, feeling yourself stop almost suddenly, then reappearing again in the blink of an eye several light years away from his home system. He then set course to explore, after giving a communique to space control, and jumped again. 5 months later, The Aaóuane 1 alrady 2 systems, made contact with two sentient races, The Zion Free Hempire and the Lerconian Collective and has established contact for the Federation and set a trade agreement with the Zion Free Hempire. News from home has been enlightening. A new chassis have been developed, that has much more capabilities than the Escort chassis that Aaóuane 1 is based on, which has been christened Frigate. Miniaturization techniques have improved the price of Ion engines, making them more cheap to produce. A project was launched in one of the research labs in Gillana in order to manipulate energy fields to create some kind of shiled for ships. A new class of ships were made called Abercorn that is purely created for exploration. The opposition group is now disbanded, due to some fanatics that tried to take over as leader after Fallon left. Fallon retired to his quarters after entering and mapping the Kolos system, and retired to a bright view of the future. TerranC - Everybody likes a happy ending. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Antarctian News Broadcast.
For External Distribution. Historical Text of communications between Lord Tesco and Dichon Assembly Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: May the Assembly recognize Lord Tesco Dichon Assembly: Vote 111-0 Lord Tesco Stands Lord Tesco: Today a new day has dawned for the Antarctian Empire. The Dichon Assembly has opened its doors for the first time in a millennium… Loud sounds of spoons clanking glasses… Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: Order.Order. Lord Tesco: Our current situation is dire. Emperor Cleon of the Trantor Imperium has allowed for an Escort Class Ship to chart our systems. Our Economy is faltering and we may be at war with the Trantor Imperium. Dire moments indeed. I bring before the assembly three bills to address this situation. Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: As this is the first bill of the Assembly all votes will be open. Lord Tesco. Bill 2401.3-1 Communications with the Trantor Imperium seeking trade relations. Turn to Subsection 76. The Antarctian Empire will seek peaceful negations with the Trantor Imperium through the Honourable Lord Azi. On the intention that a Trade alliance will commence by the date of 2401.7 The Honourable Lord Azi may trade technology up to but not including Destroyer Class Ship designs. The Honourable Lord Azi will negate common boarders between the two empires. Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: Vote now. Dichon Assembly: Vote 70-41 Dichon Holder of the11 seals: Bill 2401.3-1 Passes. Lord Tesco. Bill 2401.3-2 Increase Military Budget by 300%. Turn to subsection 113. The Antarctian Planetary Defence (APD) will begin building the SWP-****’s on Prime and all splinter colonies. Until each Planet may defend themselves from hostile actions. Turn to subsection 173. The Antarctian Space Navy (ASN) will begin building the ***-****-****** class and the ***-*****-****** class Ships up to and including 15 of each for System Defences. Turn to subsection 189 The ASN will begin to build the ***-****-****** class ships up to and including 10 for boarder patrol. The ASN will begin to build the ***-*****-***** class ship up to and including 6 for the scouting of all near by and unknown warp gates. Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: Vote Now Dichon Assembly: Vote 90-21 Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: Bill 24013-2 passes Lord Tesco. Bill 2401.3-3 Colonization of Dichon System and all near by systems. Dichon holder of the 11 seals: Vote Now Dichon Assembly: Vote 111-0 Dichon Holder of the 11 seals: Bill 2401.3.3 passes. Lord Tesco: May we continue to promote peace within all. Thank you |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Links!
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
I'll post another update when I get off of vacation and find out what my AI ministers did. I promise!
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Commadore Xavan was finally in her element, and yet she was in over her head. Last month, Lt. Commander Vitax had reported contact with another race. At first she was excited; after 2 years she would finally get to do the job she was designed for. Euphoria had quickly turned to dismay, however; the Lerconian Collective was a race hitherto unknown to the Vaxin Consortium, and she was having difficulties gathering any kind of diplomatic information on them. An entire month after the initial contact, all she had discovered was that the Lerconians were a genetically engineered, sentient fauna. Genetically engineered by whom remained to be answered, and Xavan was having a devil of a time trying to get information of even that basic caliber. The Lerconians intent was unknown. Their political structure was unknown, but appeared rather chaotic. Nothing like the Vaxin strict, regimented style.
And on top of her difficulties performing her own duties, she was still the acting Commander, Expeditionary Force. Fortunately, it was not taking up much of her time, so she could devote most of her efforts to unlocking the Lerconian’s secrets. She only had to spent an hour or two a day behind the Admiral’s desk. She still wasn’t comfortable with it; the view was unfamiliar, almost alien. The fact that this discomfort was intentionally added to her logic subroutines didn’t even register in her consciousness. She returned to his desk again to review the Strategic Readiness Status. The first thing that caught her eye was a small, green indicator light next to the words “Combat in Rakella”. “Wha- What?!?!” She tapped the indicator to bring up a summary of the events. She stared in disbelief as a Lerconian vessel emerged from the warppoint, then closed with and engaged Lt. Commander Vitax’s Revival class scout vessel. It was the very first Revival built, the namesake of the class. She had reached the limits of her range, and had been on the return leg of her scouting mission when she’d discovered the Lerconian colony. Now she was damaged and in need of assistance. Xavan found this most inconvenient. She had hoped to find an ally in the Lerconians. It was in her programming; after all, she was a Political Minister, not a War Minister. Her Objective was to bring all alien races, save one, to the bargaining table. It was her Objective to gain as much advantage for the Vaxin as possible through treaties and alliances. Every armed conflict for her is a lost opportunity, every war a catastrophe to be avoided at all costs. This was the part of Command she despised. Life and Death decisions were not her specialty; she was designed for intrigue and diplomatic exchanges. What’s more, she had been specifically designed to not find these kind of decisions easy, or comfortable. After all, she wasn’t a Command Unit; she was a Political Minister. She knew this. It was no secret that one’s occupational pre-dispositions are chosen for you. That’s what the Reproduction Minister is there for: to fill the expected occupational vacancies with new units. The concept of self-determination was completely alien to her; indeed, the very notion seemed both illogical and terrifying at the same time. But such idle pondering was getting her nowhere. The Revival 0001 was in hostile space and needed assistance. She must decide on a coarse of action, and soon. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Admiral Daxin Cavix settled into behind his workstation. Mooring clamps had been added, but he just glanced at them in disgust and went to work. They had been added so that he could lock his hoversled to the workstation and not have to keep adjusting its controls in order to maintain position while working. He decided then and there that he was not going to degrade himself in that fashion. He was already a pariah as it was; an E1 could hold altitude better than he. He was not going do deride what little respect he yet commanded by relying on two mechanical crutches!
To work. Perhaps work would destract him from the cruel fate that descended on him that fateful day, so many months ago. Each of his ministers had submitted a summary report of all that had happened in their little corner of the Force during his extended abscense. He started with Commadore Xavan's report. The Lerconians, it turned out, were giving his Political Minister quite a fit. Despite her best efforts, they had attacked the scout vessel that had made first contact; and now she was fighting tooth and nail just to keep them in a Trade Alliance. He queried Commodore Hamox's report; sure enough, no assistance had yet been sent to relieve the damaged Revival in the protection of the Rakella colony. Then he queried Commodore Noyuv's report. "Well," he thought to himself, "at least Rakella is building weapons platforms. That should ease... Lt. Cmd. Vitax's mind somewhat, anyway. As he turned back to Xavan's report, Cavix abscently wondered what reason the Lt. Cmd. had been given for the lack of support he'd received. In short order, it seems, other Revival class vessels had made contact with the Xera Collective, the Federation, and the Far Out Empire. They all seem to be cooperating with Xavan's efforts and have apperently taken kindly to the treaties she arranged with them. Good. At least if the Lerconians turn aggressive, I've only one front to worry about. The only other item of note he found in the reports was in Commadore Xidan's report. The Vaxin Expeditionary Force had a serious shortage of Minerals to work with. Querying Noyuv's report showed that two mineral rich colonies were nearly ready to start mining operations, and several other colony prospects looked to be even richer in mineral deposits. So the first order of business is to make sure that colonisers for those planets are queued up for construction. As Admiral Cavix set to work coordinating the efforts of his various ministers, he failed to notice the mooring clamps latch hold of his hoversled... |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Spartan continuation:
Snarf looked past his snout guard at the opposing lines of Dobermans and nervously wrung his claws on his pike. His experience, training, and temperament did not allow for fear. Still he mulled over the situation in his mind that these dogs are so huge and fierce that outnumbering them 5 to 1 may not be enough. He wished tradition would allow for goodbye’s to be said before combat. The survivors, if any, would not have a squad or pack mates to return to. Snarf shifted his thinking back to the briefing and the demand to win this one, this very important round of negotiations. As the drum beats started in the distance he focused on the immediate challenge ahead. The commander barked “Forward” and Snarf relayed the order to his pike box. The cameras recorded the impressive armor and choreography of the slow advance of the 3 pike boxes, and the 2 sword flanks covering the trailing archers. The Dobermans were likewise drilled and impressively armored and advanced on the flank opposite Snarfs. The melee was fierce and both sides were disciplined to use their tooth and claws only as weapons of Last resort. Soon Snarfs box was engaged in the melee. Pikes hit home, others shattered, and some dogs froze at the Dobermans psychic bark. The line held, then wavered, and then broke. Short swords were then drawn and the clash became a fight dog to dog. Snarf fought bravely and with much skill, but luck was against him. While facing one Doberman, another one fighting nearby kicked him aside for more room. That kick sent him flying over a stack of bodies and onto the hard ground. Snarf was just regaining his breath, when he caught a glance of a Doberman jumping at him. Startled he tried to roll over on his back, he felt trapped and twisted harder. He heard a crack and was on his back as the Doberman flopped down beside him and the half a pike he was holding. He staggered up, look around and shook himself. A whistle went off and other whistles took up the call, the battle was over. Snarf woke and forced his eyes to focus. An orderly offered him water and when Snarfs dry mouth couldn’t voice an answer the orderly used a bulb and tube to wet it down. The orderly looked down at him and said “It’s been 3 days and you have scars that would be the envy of many veterans, but nothing life threatening. We are attending you 24 hours, so sleep if you need to, eat and drink if you want to.” Snarf wisely at the small portions offered and fell back to sleep. He awoke a day later feeling better and engaged the order in the some games of chance and started joking with the staff. It was an invitation for trouble. The commander and Talma trotted in. The commander spoke, “Snarf you old war dog. We heard your feeling better. That was quite an impressive upset. We thought that Last Doberman had the better of you, but you came through and saved the negotiations.” Then Talma spoke “Your new hero status can be quite an asset with the Dobermans and as you know there are some rolls a female can not be expected to fill.” The commander added, “Your elder veteran and wounded status will also help you maintain discipline in an instructor and advisor role.” At which Snarf barked many objections and denounced his heroism as desperation and pure luck. The commander replied, “The scars and cut muscles will limit your agility, you are not now and will never be in fighting shape. You will accept your hero honors and can choose to enter a civilian life with full citizenship.” Talma spoke up again “At the troops briefing you demonstrated the possession of knowledge that no civilian would be allowed to have. Please join us. You would be a great asset to the Internal Services. “ The commander lowered his snout and whispered in Snarfs ear “Please don’t be stubborn, I don’t want to lose another friend. Besides, you can handle these *****es and we need some dogs to keep an eye on them.” The commander raised himself to attention and pronounced to Snarf that his acceptance will be accepted concurrent with the hospital discharge in 3 days. After those two trotted off a deep voice came from behind the curtain across the room. “I’m Glad to hear you’re a humble hero. Otherwise we might have to re-enact the famous Last fight out back. My name is Gruffer and I have been volunteered to be your co-instructor and bodyguard while you’re with us Dobes. That was quite a way for them to treat a hero. If you ever share any of your secrets with me or the other Dobes, I’ll kill you.” Snarf responded, “The commander thinks I handle the *****es really well.” At that they both exploded into laughter. |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Commodore Xavan glided into the room with ease, despite the slightly higher gravity of N’ildwab 4 compared to Canus. It was a small room, by her standards. Most rooms used by the Office of Treaties and Negotiations were bigger than this. It was barely 20 meters from floor to ceiling, and only 127 by 93 meters along the walls. Of coarse, like all Vaxin structures, it was virtually undecorated. Flat gray congealed water vapor made up the walls and ceiling, with only a few potted plants placed near the exits as decoration. The lighting was just a basic florescent gas assembly. Xavan fussed with the spartan room decor, bustling the several orderlies that she had in tail out of their daydreams. “Make that table a little higher. It should be centered between the floor and ceiling. I don’t want to appear to be resting on the floor!”
She shuddered at what the ambassador would have thought at such a blatant sign of weakness. “And move that…” She stared at the contraption, searching her mind for the name of such a strange device. It was a horizontal, soft piece of stuffed fabric, supported on a horizontal metal plate, polished until it gleamed. Another, longer plate was connected, but it was almost vertical to the floor. It seemed so odd, hovering there… “…The chair. Move that chair to the center of the table. I don’t want the ambassador off to one side. And lower it to the floor! He can’t jet up here to get in it, after all!” She knew what rock-crawlers used such a device for, but she’d never actually seen one used. That would change shortly, of coarse; the ambassador was due any minute now. She inspected the room again, but everything now seemed to be in order. She pulled out her notes and arranged them on the table in front of her. Still she waited; she glanced at the wall clock in annoyance. It read 14:02. The ambassador was late. Not that she was terribly surprised; she had been “fashionably late” to several negotiations. It was a cheap ploy, but it had its place nonetheless. To pass the time, she jetted over and gave the proposed treaty a quick check for typographical or other errors. Proposed Treaty: Treaty of N’ildwab 4, 2402.8 As a gesture of good will between our peoples, the Vaxin Consortium is willing to allow the Kazharii Imperium to establish colonies in the N'ildwab system, with the following conditions: </font>
[ July 31, 2002, 11:10: Message edited by: dumbluck ] |
Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
That is too restrictive for our tastes. You can have N'ildwab to yourself. Just stay out of our claimed space, and we can co-exist peacefully.
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Re: Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4
Naxiv Civix no longer bothered to curse under his breath; he did it loudly and frequently. He cursed the fates that had played this malicious joke on him. He cursed his luck, which seemed to be nothing but bad. And most of all he cursed whichever Superior Officer’s idea it was that had forced him back into this most undesirable of positions, under the most undesirable of circumstances.
The day his world crumbled like a day old sandcastle had started innocently enough. It was a particularly beautiful sunrise; at least for Canus 5, anyway. Since there were no clouds to block it that morning, the light from dim, distant Canus sparkled through the large amounts of stellar dust in Canus 5’s upper atmosphere. Canus was only bright enough to overpower some of the night’s stars, but as it’s light played across the stellar dust, it twinkled like an entire galaxy of stars. It was truly breathtaking. Not that Naxiv had any breath to take, of coarse; but he was awed, nonetheless. Then he went to work, happily tilling the soil and tending to the crops in his sector of the farm. As he worked, he contemplated just how fortunate he was to have been assigned to the Farms project. He had heard rumors that the units in the mineral mines hadn’t had a day off for 3 weeks straight. But that was ok with him; he was just glad that he worked on the farms instead of in the mines. He didn’t ever want to leave the farms. Of coarse, now he realizes his folly in actually saying those words aloud. He had done nothing less than invite the cruel fates to stick their fingers into his life to stir things up. But at the time, everything seemed to be going his way. His seemed to have found his calling. He’d finally found something he’d enjoyed. Everything was looking up. He should have known better. It was during the lunch break that his entire, happy world came crashing down around his sonic input devices. Mail call usually occurred in the mornings, but today there had been some foul-up in the mailroom, and it arrived late. So it was that he received one short, curt, world-shattering telegram during lunch: “Civix, Naxiv, E2, re-assigned to the Orbital Construction Platforms as Construction Operator. Report to Transport 34-5p at 11:27 today for immediate transfer to OCP – 2.” He groaned as he glanced at the clock; it read 12:32. He disconnected from his Battery Recharging station and went to his commanding officer to explain the situation. 2nd Lt. Hycix Batav was very understanding, of coarse. She told Naxiv to report to the transport pads immediately, and she would take care of the rest. Unfortunately for Naxiv, Batav was very busy that day. She never exactly got around to sending a memo to the Construction Ministry that day explaining why Naxiv had arrived late. In fact, the incident was purged from her RAM by other, more important information before she had a chance to save it to permanent storage. Which is why Naxiv was met at the transport pad by MP’s. After 3 days in a holding cell, several interviews by Security Ministry investigators, and a disciplinary rank reduction to E1 for tardiness and insubordination (later repealed), Naxiv was released to the Ministry of Construction. There he was put to work on OCP – 2 with his old friend, “Hardnose Hadix”. And so, in the coarse of 72 hours, Naxiv Civix’s life has come full circle. [ August 12, 2002, 11:08: Message edited by: dumbluck ] |
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