History of the Galaxy II

[Dead Meat]

“Caption on the bridge. Time is 06:30 2403.2.” The ships computer called out as Caption John Bentford’s boot landed on T.C.N. George Bass metal deck with a slight thump and walked to his command chair.

“Morning Caption”

“Morning XO,” Commander Turner appeared at his right shoulder as she always did when he came onto the bridge after the night watch. “I trust all went well with the night shift?”

“Yessir, Astro has completed the scans of the system. The scanners can’t penetrate this nebula, but we’ve located the Last warp point and have been able to scan it. Astro says that it’s a normal wrap point, all gravimetric fields are within specs.”

“That’s good; we don’t want to turn into another Lucky Mishap.” Bentford thought back to George Bass sister ship Lucky as he sat in his command chair and went over the reports from the night watch. The Terran Confederation Navy’s first ship, Lucky, was lost with all hands when they tried passing through Sol’s southern most warp point. Little did they know that this warp point was different than the other ones found in the system. The R&D people said that the high gravimetric fields tore the ship apart before anyone knew what was happening.

The Terran Confederation was much different back then. Instead of consisting of the hand full of intra-system tug boats to protect Earth, the T.C.N now had five combat ship with more being built every month. Hard to believe that the Terran Confederation now controls 20 planets in 8 systems. Nope, things we very much different than they where when we left home.

“How long does Astro think it will take us to get back to the nearest re-supply base?”

“About 3 year’s sir, give or take a few months. We received our reply to our message. The Admiralty suggests that we continue our original mission sir, in spite of our lack of fuel.”

“Ah, I see. That would be the ‘…to explore new worlds, and seek out new life...’ part of their dispatch wouldn’t it. Seems to me that we have the beginning of a great holo show doesn’t it commander?”

“My guess sir, is that they are hoping that we will encounter another race and be able to get more fuel. Otherwise it would be too expansive to send out a re-supply fleet to retrieve us.”

“No doubt. But I don’t like the idea of having to beg a new race for fuel when we just meet them. God for bid that their armed and attack us.” Caption Bentford thought for a few moments, thinking about his chooses, “Hmm, very well commander. Well go through this warp point and see where it leads. Perhaps we can find a short cut back home.”

“Yessir. Helm, set course for the warp point at coordinates (0,10). All ahead one third, rig ship for warp.”

[Unknown_Enemy]

TYREAN HISTORY : Second Encounter

2403.5

Tyrean explorer “New Sense of Deja Vu”, 22 minutes after warp jump.

Officers saluted as a private yelled “Commander on Deck” on the arrival of Commander Ixial. He went directly to the Commander's station , then turned to the Navigation officer : “Situation report, please”.

“Yes Sir, as soon as we emerged in the Baktu system, our sensors received large amount of radio and radar emissions, whose sources seems to be the third planet orbiting this sun. Emissions come from both orbital and ground systems. We tried to understand what was said, but we cannot even figure if they are broadcasting their equivalent of Tri-video or just plain speech. Anyway it is not focussed on us, it seems these emissions are just broadcast for their own use. AI Life Is A ***** has labelled this as a genuine Xeno encounter. We are at 2 hours and twenty four light minutes from them, so they will notice our presence in less than two hours, for we didn't detect any survey satellites around our emergence point.”

“Right, first, how can we know these Xeno are not the World Killers ? They have colonised a CO2 planet, as did the dead Xeno on Memento Mori. Any clues ?” asked the Commander.

Life Is A *****'s symbol appeared with the sound of a dim chime. “I can answer that one. The ruins found first on Memento Mori and later on Calka VIII were both ice planets. This is a rock one. This indication is interesting but most important, experiment proved that the Ancients did not rely on radio/radar emissions, but probably on some sort of quantum transmissions. Here, radio and radar wave analysis tell us that we are dealing with a race approximatively of our tech level. They are not the World Killers”

“Let's hope you're right, my orders are then to decelerate to Full Stop situation. Do not respond to any communication attempt nor initiate one until then. Fetch me when we are stopped, I'll be with Science team in the meantime.” replied Ixial.

Tyrean explorer “New Sense of Deja Vu”, 6 hours after warp jump.

“We're at full stop Sir !”

“Right, Main Radio dish, transmit message one, narrow beam toward the planet. Repeat it one time every ten minutes until we get the appropriate answer.”

“Yes, Sir. We are literally hammered by radio/radar/com laser/com phaser emissions from the planet, Sir.”

Commander Ixial didn't respond. By staying at long range, he proved to the xeno he was not a treat. Then the message, it was simple enough :

low signal(0.1s long)-silence(0.2s long)-strong signal (0.1s long)-silence(0.2s long)-strong signal (0.1s long)low signal(0.1s long)-silence(0.2s long)........and so on.

If you put it on paper you would obtain :
0-1-10-11-100-101-110.....
Binary numbers.
Whatever the number system used by the Xeno, they should have mastered binary. By waiting a few hours, he had ensured the Xeno would have time to gather a team able to analyse what was send to them. As expected, five hours later, the bridge crew cheered as they received an answer to their first message. The Xeno were sending more binary numbers, and the second part of their message contained a simple addition, with two new signals representing the signs “plus” and “equal”.
Communication has indeed been established.
“We should try to approach the planet, we need to shorten data transmission time” proposed Life Is A *****. “No way as long as we do not have full confirmation they are not linked to the World Killers, the Science team has some volunteers to ride our shuttle near their world. That is all I am willing to risk. That team is moving to a position 10 light seconds from their world.” answered the Commander. Ixial then switched to private speech mode with the AI, “I guess you listened to my meeting with the Archaeologists, what do you think of their Theory of the Ancients ?”
“They could be right, there are strong indications that past wars extinguished more than one Xenoc species. It could be that Tyrean are part of a new generation of intelligent beings raising to interstellar travel after disappearance of previous races, the fact that our current xeno seems from the same technology level as us indicates they achieved space flight in the same timeline as Tyrean did. I wonder if they created some AI like us. That would be interesting.”

Tyrean explorer “New Sense of Deja Vu”, 6 days 4 hours after warp jump.

“Sir, the shuttle has successfully relocated, they are maintaining distance of 10 light seconds from the planet, Sir ! They are sending in a report, it seems they already made some progress.”

Commander Ixial read the report, which said that advanced algebra system has been defined with the Xeno, and geometry definitions was already on the way. But that was much more tricky and proved difficult. And that was only the beginning, as all that mathematical work was done to create a written language based on logic and mathematics, rather than racial history. Later, maybe some of us would try to learn the Xenocs language, but yet we have still to discover the name of their specie.

The navigation officer interrupted his reading : “Sir, our shuttle report they have detected that a Xenoc small craft has been launched from the planet, in intercept course with them, Sir. Our team request permission to let the Xeno approach them.”

Life Is A ***** reacted first and transmitted “Permission granted” to the Tyrean shuttle.

The Commander stayed silent. Some of the crew on deck were praying.

Life Is A ***** then spoke :”I guess the Xeno will not only approach, but will try to dock to our shuttle. Which is a logical step if they also want to make any good progress toward communication. Do not confuse it as “a nice alien theory”, the way almost all radio emissions were shut down when they discovered us prove this race has a very tight grip on its members. Then all Xenoc wave emissions come from a single source on the planet, probably a single base. Which indicates a very centralised government. How ironic, it could be these Xeno are as bad as the Tyrean on the ground of individual freedom. Time will tell.”

[capnq]

Despite having known him for over fifteen years, Cunsi Davdi still felt a bit awestruck in Sinta Farki's presence. The average Eifralo retired at sixty-one, but Farki was still serving as Chairman of the Board of the Eifralo Conglomerate at seventy-three, and almost as active as someone half his age. He'd taken Davdi as his protégé, and had used his influence with the board to make Davdi the youngest CEO in the Conglomerate's history. Facing the biggest challenge of his career, Davdi had come to his mentor for advice.

"Doctor Timho certainly writes a detailed report," Farki commented as he slipped the stack of pages back into the envelope.

"That's one of the things that makes him such a good Vice-President of Research and Development," Davdi agreed. "Once he latches onto an idea, he doesn't release it until he's looked at it from every possible angle."

"A heavy burden when the subject is so serious. None of the legends of the Masters even hint at their capacity for violence, or of such brutal enemies. It makes one wonder if they deliberately hid this from our ancestors, or if our ancestors found it too terrible to remember. Or perhaps they created us after the war ended, and didn't think we needed to know."

"I hope it's that Last possibility. Soctu has had to start taking sedatives to get any sleep at night; he's worried that either the Masters' enemies are still out there somewhere, or the enemies left their own servants behind, as well. That's why I need your advice. How do we prepare the Conglomerate to meet hostile aliens, and how do I spin the preparations when the necessary budget items come up before the rest of the Board?"

"First things first," Farki replied. "We need to know what the money has to be spent on before we can draw up a budget proposal. And I know exactly whom I'd go to for help in deciding that."

[capnq]

Sanre Dorsi had never been so nervous in her life. What on Eifra could bring a minor media consultant to the attention of Chairman Farki? She had thought his "request" that she make an appointment to see him as soon as possible was a practical joke by one of her friends, until Farki's secretary vidcalled to confirm whether she'd received it. She was even more surprised when she arrived at his office, and the secretary told her to go right in, even though she'd gotten there rather early.

"Ah, Doctor Dorsi, I'm glad you could arrange to be here on such short notice," Farki greeted her. "I'm sure you recognize CEO Davdi, but do you know my other guest, Doctor Soctu Timho?"

Dorsi shifted from surprise to borderline shock. "Only by reputation, Chairman." Here she was in the same room with the two most influential people on Eifra, plus one of the corporate Vice-Presidents. She found herself at a loss for words.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we've asked you here." Farki grinned, and added, "That sounds like a bad holovid actor's line, doesn't it?"

Dorsi had to laugh in spite of her nervousness. "Yes, it does. But I've heard far, far worse in my line of work."

"Your work is what brings you here, Doctor. We have a problem, and I believe you're the most qualified person to help us."

Dorsi's eyes bulged in amazement. "You need a historical consultant? Your message implied that the matter was urgent."

"You're too modest about your achievements, Doctor. You are widely recognized as Eifra's leading expert on the Corporate Wars. If you don't know all the details of what we're looking for, you'll know where to find answers."

"I appreciate your praise, Chairman, but I can't imagine what you could possibly need me for. As much as I enjoy helping to make costume dramas more historically accurate, it's hardly a profitable enough line of work to concern the leadership of the Conglomerate."

"This matter is far more serious than any of us could have imagined, Doctor. In this case, profit isn't even a major concern. Doctor Timho is here to brief you on our situation."

-----

"In summary, Doctor Dorsi," Timho finished, "we need to prepare to defend ourselves against potentially hostile aliens. Chairman Farki believes that your expertise can help us design the first Eifral military force since the Ultimate Merger."

Dorsi was unusually slow to reply. She was still stunned at the horrors that Timho had described in his briefing; at one point the Chairman had had his secretary bring them a round of BLARG to relax a bit during a break. "I truly wish that I had the Chairman's confidence in my abilities. I could tell you the organization of the various corporate security forces, their weaponry, and tactics, but very little of that would apply to combat between spacecraft. The closest thing during the Corporate Wars would be the hovercar duels between unemployed youth gangs during the late 2100s.

And that leads to a larger issue: finding Eifralo willing to train for battle. Very few Eifralo show any tendency towards violence, and those who do typically mature out of it after puberty. The rare physically aggressive adult Eifralo tends to end up employed in the demolition and recycling sector."

"Or professional sports," Farki grinned. "Did you know that fifty years ago, I was a pro skyball pilot?"

"I doubt there's a sports fan on Eifra who doesn't know that," Davdi laughed. "I don't think your record for shortest scoring interval has ever been broken."

"You're right, and I doubt it will be. The regulation air corridor was smaller back then, when the hovers were slower."

"I don't mean to be rude," Timho interrupted somewhat crossly, "but we still have a major problem to deal with. The Chairman's skyball career isn't likely to help us build a space force."

"It might be more applicable than you'd first think," Farki countered. "I've read your full report on Node-25; there was mention of the Masters' ships having specialized weapons to defend against small attack craft. Their descriptions reminded me of the aerobatics of a sports hover."

"That is a good point, I have to admit," Timho agreed. "The craft would have to be much larger to operate in space, of course, but there are several such battles in Node-25's database. I wouldn't have thought of that. I've never been much of a skyball fan; I just don't see the appeal of watching a bunch of pilots trying to push a balloon around with the downdraft of their engines."

"It seems to me that this Node-25 has already told you more about space combat than I ever could," Dorsi commented. "The Last Eifralo with real experience in three-dimensional fighting died a century and a half ago. A specialist in the pre-Unification period might know a bit more, but I'd have to do a literature search just to find one. Vidshows about life before the formation of the planetary government are in even less demand than Corporate Wars dramas."

"As I said earlier, you'd at least know where to look," Farki replied. "That's a better idea than most of the options than we've come up with on our own."

[Jmenschenfresser]

Chaper 3--Part 2
2403.1

-------------------------
CARNAP JENGUS
-------------------------

Carnap, leader of the Rellan, sat upon his royal cushions. It was the first free moment, the first moment some logger-head lord wasn't yammering on about freedom and fair share. Those morons preached against the evils of consolidation and yet complained that they wouldn't get a fair share. It made no sense. Entitled brats propped up by society, money and name. Carnap was in no way a Republican. Like peasants can decide anything greater than the ripeness of the horse-ankle root. Carnap longed for the time his grandfather had told him about, when nobility was noble and the dynamic lords of the Rellan stood, hands raised, between the chaos of the other tribes.

The sky rumbled and he pulled a family cloak over his shoulders. Depression and exhaustion passed through his body. The sky light over his head only enhanced the gray, pregnant light filtering in. Only a few million of the other tribes remained in Spica. The Boohr occupied a nearby rock planet that had no atmosphere. BLasting out caves, they lived miles under the cold rock surface. Carnap was counting the days till they moved their leaders.

The tribes were already beginning to benefit from the new alliance with the Invexus Corporation. Carnap wondered just how long the Sa'ah would remain under this treaty. Century old mauraders don't change over night. Old warriors will tap their bare sides and with every tap you can see how it had once been a tic, a habit of making sure the short sword or firearm was still strapped to their bulging thigh. Old warriors are worse than dead warriors. The Omon had had the best luck of the draw. So far the Vellon have found only two small breathable planets. The Omon have found two large and one small one in adjacent systems. Within a decade they will be far ahead in research and have enough resource production to begin fielding a fleet of their own.

Carnap called in a short maid and asked for a cup of water. The winter was coming on.

He took up several pieces of paper. Several he was supposed to sign. Carnap looked across the room to where a grand, spralling tapestry detailing the history of his tribe and his family.

'A room full of cushions, whores and greedy lords chain me,' he thought. Light filled the room and Carnap pulled the cloak over his head. Even under the thick leather and cloth, his arms and lap were visible. A voice filled the room like fog, like deep music.

'Cease your wallowing, Carnap, Koei speaks. Your family has not finished their allotted time at the loom eternal. Stand up. Raise your people. Gather a fleet. I will go out before you. Rejoice, for this day, Koei has given a promise of blessing.'

The voice left as it came.

Carnap pulled the cloak from his head and ran from the room.

[sachmo]

Invexus Corporation

1-2404

Primidara VIII rotated lazily beneath Lucky Lady, it’s surface reflecting the light of the system’s old, orange sun. From orbit, Primidara VIII looked more like a sponge than a planet with its unique mossy surface.
I guess it is sort of a sponge. This planet soaks up cargo and money faster than any sponge I’ve ever seen, Captain Lester Quenlin mused.
Once the trade agreement had been signed between the Vellon tribe of the Heru, Invexus merchant ships had been the first thru the wormhole. Leading this initial wave was Captain Quenlin and Lucky Lady, loaded down with a huge assortment of cargo.
No one had been exactly sure what sort of goods these Vellons would pay for. It was the first alien species ever encountered by the Cherek people, and so everything was new. However, Quenlin had an uncanny knack for knowing what the customer would pay for. As luck would have it, this skill translated beyond his own species. As soon as the initial awkwardness and bumps in the road were solved, Quenlin was the first captain to sell off his entire cargo, which he did in just under six standard hours. He also, so rumor had it, made the biggest profit in the first week.
Yes, Quenlin was a lucky man, which is part of the reason his ship was named Lucky Lady. Quenlin was also a firm believer in the old adage, “A man makes his own luck.” Once the supply and demand chain became firmly established between the Cherek and Vellon people, many independent captains like Quenlin began to see their income levels start to dip. The initial rush was a great time for both sides, but consumers being what they are, certain goods were preferred over others by the respective races. For example, the Vellon, being a rigid, class driven people, had a particular fondness for Cherek art. Quenlin found that the upper crust would pay exorbitant fees for even the most mediocre pieces, partly because they could and partly because it was viewed as a status symbol to own a “visual expression of the alien mind”. Quenlin could care less if they used them for toilet paper, as long as they kept paying for it. He knew that soon the market would be flooded with all sorts of cheap art, but thankfully he had filled his hold with every piece he could find on his first trip, and made a small fortune in the exchange.
For an independent captain, this was especially fine. Since Quenlin owned his ship, Invexus allowed him to keep sixty percent of the profits from a given run. If a run was particularly profitable, they might bump that up to seventy. Quenlin made seventy percent profit on seven of eight trips to Primidara VIII so far, and on the trip where he didn’t get seventy, Invexus auditors had awarded him sixty-three. He and his crew were making excellent money. However, things were beginning to get crowded. Independents were starting to spring up as fast as Invexus colonized new planets (twelve new worlds in four years!), but the Vellon markets were not expanding to keep up, at least the ones that they were allowed to enter by the treaty. In situations like this, it was usually the captains who dared to venture into the gray area that usually came out ahead. Quenlin was one such captain, and on his Last trip he had learned about a nice gray area indeed. Rumor had it that the Vellons were able to concoct a narcotic that they once used in religious ceremonies. To them, it was a mild narcotic, resulting in a relaxed, happy state.
Invexus trader crews had discovered it, but on Cherekians, the effect was much more intense. When ingested, it fills the Cherekian brain with wonderful, dreamlike images and totally relaxes the body. To an outside observer, the subject is reduced to a smiling, babbling, immobile idiot. The effects of a gram of the drug can Last for up to five hours. The Vellons had a name for it, but it was practically unpronounceable. The Users began to call it simply Glide.
Once the news of Glide got around, demand for it shot thru the roof. The problem was, the only drug trade that Invexus was interested in was the one it controlled. Glide represented an uncontrollable element to them, and so it was outlawed. Those found possessing or consuming Glide faced fine, imprisonment, and possibly death. Those found distributing or transporting with the intent to distribute faced fine, imprisonment, financial seizure, and death.
So there it was. If a captain was good enough, he stood to make a fortune off of Glide. The risks were great, but the rewards were, too.
Captain Quenlin met his Vellon contact and bought thirty kilos of Glide for a price that would make him an obscene amount of money if he were able to sell it in Invexus space. It seemed to him that the Vellons had not quite caught on to the value of Glide, which was so much the better for him. As the Last of the product was moved into the hold of his ship, he walked outside and lovingly patted the landing strut.
“Just this one Last time, old girl. Get me thru and we can retire. I mean it this time.”
He felt the ship give a slight shudder under his hand.
He looked up, a bit puzzled. Was Lady trying to tell him something? Shrugging, he headed back toward the open cargo doors.
Quenlin and Lucky Lady would need every ounce of luck they had left.

[Unknown_Enemy]

TYREAN HISTORY : Nightmares

2404.5

In the middle of the Experiment Room, Monk Uthara was laying in deep trance on a medical couch. Several holo-AI symbol were floating in the room. Senator Lahira and Cardinal Alassi were both sitting on small chairs, waiting. Monk Uthara suddenly seemed to suffer a spasm, which did not interrupt his trance. Behind him, in front of the two officials, the holo-wall blinked. Random colours started to appear, then an image stabilised.

Samurai Heiti Kann cheered at the look on the reco pictures, then he spoke to his crew “Attention to all personnel, we have confirmation that Tyrean cowards committed mass suicide rather than dying an honourable death in combat. We will begin standard planetary sizing procedures immediately”. Planetary napalm weapons started to aim at their targets. All main towns were to be cleansed by righteous fire, thus evacuating the needs to dispose of the bodies. Another fine planet claimed by the Imperium shall come into the Emperor's possessions. Heiti Kann could not understand the Tyrean, they were not fighting, but still they refused to withdraw as ordered. So the Emperor Mahatsohito took a reasonable course of actions. The claimed planets were to be conquered, and brought into the noble Ruling of the Katana Imperium by force. But no conquest did occur. The Tyrean populations committed suicide on a gigantic scale. Males and females were poisoning their own offspring before terminating themselves on the arrival of the invasion forces. The Samurai was glad that such coward were not brought in the Imperium. They did not deserve it. His smile widened as fire rained down on the giant graveyard that had been a Tyrean city only a few hours ago.

The screen flickers.

Upon entering his room, Director barrens of the Cyterian Republic gave his coat to the Tyrean servant, a Zombie as they were called by his population. Sometime, the Director was ashamed of what he had ordered toward the Tyrean specie, but he didn't have any other option. When the AI consensus decided to leave the Tyrean and start a new civilisation out of reach of biological species, the Tyrean society went into chaos. Some Tyrean went mad, and their unique ability to modify the flow of time wrecked havoc not only on their planets, but also on all Cyterian colonies on border systems. Luckily, his rapid reaction avoided too much damages. His covert operatives directed some of the Tyrean insurgents, and in a matter of months all Tyrean worlds on border systems had asked to join the Republic. Which they were granted of course. Then, it was just a matter of exploiting the momentum, and in less than two years, the Tyrean did not exist anymore as a free specie. Of course, they were quickly disseminated within the Republic. Isolated from one another. Then all specimen showing trace of the gift had to submit to a surgical intervention and sterilisation. A pity that such operation removed most of their intelligence in the process. That was why they were called Zombie. It was in fact a sort of lobotomy. And prospective were bad, most of Tyrean were gifted. Well, better to them to disappear slowly and peacefully in the republic than live as slaves in the Dictatorship of the Katana Imperium thought the Director. Meanwhile, in the back room, the Tyrean servant maintained proudly a stupid smile as he stared at the wall.

Images, maybe from Tyrean Secondis planet.

In the fusion chamber D16VA, Three thousands six hundreds and fifty one Tyrean instantaneously stopped yelling and crying as they vaporised. AI Roaming Free checked the circuitry, then powered down the fusion reactor. “It was the Last batch of them was it ?” asked AI Born To Kill. “Yep ! we have solved all their problems. Now we can start working on our projects”. Born To Kill signalled his Joyce in the cybersphere. After the failure of the inner council of Churches, the AI Consensus tried to adapt the Tyrean political system, to no avail. Chaos was spreading fast in the Federation, then the Cyterian withdraw from all agreement, asking for a stabilised political situation before resuming former treaties. The Katana Imperium was weary and massing warships on the border systems. Then the AI Consensus was overthrown by more radical elements. Peace and unity was inforced on the federate worlds by regiments of armed robots. This had been a bloody affair. More, massive suicides occurred in the pacified worlds, leaving some of them almost empty. But the Tyrean who survived were most of the time driven mad by their power over time. So the new Consensus came to the logical conclusion for the Tyrean specie. Extermination. The few millions that were left were disposed of in fusion chambers. Swiftly and painlessly. Proud and happy from a job well done, Roaming Free contacted Consensus “A funny note I would like to share with all of us, do you know how our Last remaining creators called us ???? They called us the Rage.”

Deep space, other images.

Flowers of lights silently erupt from guns.
Sensor beams fighting countermeasures to acquire a lock, looking for a kill.
Red steel steaming out of wounded spaceships.
Thousands life forms yelling a picosecond before silence.
Entire planets, whose dark side are glowing from fusion bombs explosions lie there, as a signal telling to all “AI Consensus and Katana Imperium fought here”.

All images disappear from the holo wall, as the Senator switches it off. “We are going nowhere with this”. “Agreed” replied AI Consensus, “but it is the best sample of what we wanted to show you, accurate in the short term future, but on the long term, your spirit seems to only select the paths that it fears the most, not the most probable one. While everything you watched could happen, their probability are very low. We urge you not to take in account any long term prediction while deciding your policy. The Inner Council must avoid your ancestor's dramatic errors.”

[ November 20, 2002, 18:15: Message edited by: Unknown_Enemy ]