Recent history of Quadrant: Adamant 4

[Wardad]

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.

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We live for the walk, we die for the walk.

[geoschmo]

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

[dumbluck]

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?

[Unknown_Enemy]

I like these story.

Good work.

In fact I just registered to congratulate dumbluck about them....

[dumbluck]

Thanks. At least I know that a few people actually like my stories...

ummm... what does your signature mean????

[capnq]

"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 "Ïa!", if you want to be really picky.

[LokiOne]

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.