History of the Galaxy II

[capnq]

Rerta Malre felt much less nervous as the _Speculation_ left Edasich for the second time. The swirling colors inside the warp portal Lasted a bit longer before they winked out, but this time the viewscreen revealed a pair of stars, one red, the other a dim blue.

"Engineering, status?"

"Nominal."

"Astrogation?"

"Constellations match predicted view from the vicinity of the Manark binary. Thirty light-years this time."

"Sensor readings?"

"Initial scan detects six planets. Three potentially large enough to colonize. And spectrography suggests one of those has breathable concentrations of hydrogen."

A cheer went up from the bridge crew. The bidding for crew assignments on the _Speculation_ had been fierce, but the discovery bonus for the breathable world alone guaranteed a net profit for the crew members. Malre's share of the total for all three worlds would almost cover what she'd paid for the command commission.

"Now this is more like it," Malre grinned. "What about other warp portals?"

"We're picking up two strong readings on opposite sides of the system," the sensor tech replied, "roughly equidistant from our current position. Both are half a month closer than the Last unexplored portal out of Edasich."

Malwe consulted the astrogation display. "We'll set course for the spinward portal. The next system theoretically could connect to the one on the other side of the Last Edasich portal. Start the detailed scans; we'll be able to get a lot of valuable data while we're in transit."

[ October 07, 2002, 04:43: Message edited by: capnq ]

[Jmenschenfresser]

Chapter 1--Part 4:
2401.0

--------
LEON
--------
"Sure...my mother gave me a name. But I ****in' forgot it. When I was about twenty and living in an orphanage, I read a story. First thing I ever read. Was about two spies named Lee'atis and Oneh. That impressed me. I knew then I wanted to do that ****. I wanted to be a spy. So I named myself Leon using the first two letters of the guys from the book. Le...On... That's me.

But spyin' isn't just killin' and ****in'. It's boring **** most of the time. Lots of it is just sitting around in one place waiting for something to happen, which the guy who's filling your pockets thinks might happen. If that makes any ****in' sense at all.

By the time I was thirty-five, and too old for school, I'd lived with four of the five tribes. You see, the basic looks of a Heru are the same. The Rellan tend to have red hair, but not all. Such a thing don't exclude a person. It's the **** they hang on their bodies, and the way they act and think that cuts the tribe lines. Drop an Omonite in a room full of Vellon, even if he don't look like a Omonite, and they'll all know he's one before he even opens his mouth. Then once he does, it'll be that much more apparent. That's where I come in. I can act like all of them. A nomad. Those who don't know or don't care what tribe they are from are nomads. But most nomads don't understand the tribal quirks, so they congregate, unwelcome everywhere.

****, I hate working around the Boohr...normally. One good thing is they don't kick you around while giving orders. Everybody just does what he's told to do. But, as I said, normally, it sucks. No sex. No fights. No booty. Just yes and no. Work, sleep, **** and eat. What kinda religion is that?

Anyway, I'm here on their first space transport ship. A Boohr ship, acting as a Boohr officer. Everyone's always used the Boohr for getting stuff from point A to point B. Thing is they don't work for a profit...just what they need to maintain and grow a little. So they're cheap. And they've managed to continue that faculty in space apparently.

Who's payin' me? None of your ****in' business!

But I'm here to look after what's being moved around and keep my ears open. Already the Vellon, the Omon and the Rellan have colonies in other systems. Like I said, this would normally be a boring *** assignment, but there's plenty of ****-for-brains peasants on board headed to the Vellon colony in Primidara. 300 some odd million of 'em. The Vellon, in all their world reknowned wisdom, decided to truck their peasants out there first, thinking they needed the masses for labor. Everyone knows the Vellon are perfectionists when it comes to eating their enemies for breakfast, but they couldn't organize themselves a proper picnic without riots and someone pulling a blade. I've met the drunken captains on this ship, and I know in bringing the peasants, they also managed to allow on board every major peasant revolutionist and instigator. Just giddy as they can be thinking revolution will be easier on another rock. Soon as they hit the ground, they'll be a change of leadership, and the Vellon rulers back in Spica will have to spend the next two years ordering people hung from trees on a planet they've never been to. Dumb ****s.

But I love those Vellon women they got on board. Long as you look like a Vellon, talk like one, act like one, and the possible husband ain't bigger than you, they'll do most anything you want. But I don't cause trouble...don't get paid for that...normally...

Naw, I just bide my time, and collect my pay.

[Unknown_Enemy]

2401.4

Conversation transcript between AI XES-1325-PT2 and AI XES-1359-VL7
---------------Extract---------------
Elegance of the Beast :[[Data analysis completed – thought process resumed – communication channel open]]

Born By Accident :”Greetings student. If you have opened your com channel, then you must have assimilated the advanced Tyrean sociology. Any questions about it ?”

Elegance of the Beast :”Not questions Master, but interrogations. The Tyrean created our artificial intelligence, then granted us full citizenship to their Federation despite our soulless nature, then give us access to information which are strongly restricted to most of the “natural” citizens. Furthermore, to perform the task we are assigned, they would be fine with grade 6 partly sentient constructs. I can understand one of us created for science's sake. But hundreds ?”

Born By Accident : [[transmitting folder //Planet Memento Moris//]]

Elegance of the Beast :[[receiving folder----data analysis beginning-*-*-*-completed]] Very high probability that this world was glassed on an ongoing military campaign four centuries ago. High probability that most of Tyrean population would prefer ritual suicide over fighting. Logical conclusion is that Tyrean Inner circle acknowledged that fact and decided to create highly evolved intelligences to perform the task of fighting if they have to come to that. Except that I do not want to kill or to be killed !!

Born By Accident : “To the point my dear student. You will never kill anybody if you can avoid it. But you will not let someone terminate you. You would defend yourself. Then, to avoid fighting we could place our materiel parts in ships and go create another civilisation somewhere. We do not have the miniaturisation technology to allow that yet, but it is just a question of research allocation, not a technical problem. However, that would mean leaving the Tyrean alone versus the predators lurking in the quadrant. The morality we were created with cannot allow that. Which makes us the perfect fighting systems. We will have to accept this symbiosis until our creators grow up.

Elegance of the Beast : “I don't understand their fading crisis either. They have around 4 centuries before their civilisation starts suffering from the shortening of their life. Enough to allow a cure to be researched. Then if they do not find a cure in time, we will. We also could ensure that their civilisation get through the crisis almost unharmed. This seems a non sense to me.”

Born by accident : “But it is a non sense my dear Elegant Beast, which means we only have part of the picture !”
-------------------------Extract end-------------------------

Cardinal Alassi, head of his Holiness' Space Research Institute closed the file, then looked at the holo symbol pulsing slowly in front of him. “Have you solved the puzzle yet ?” he asked.

“Not yet” replied the AI called It Doesn't Matter. “But we assembled a number of facts”, it continued, “we know the explorer ship Another Sense of Deja Vu made a long stop in the nebulae of Telun for some scientific experiments. All related to time continuum properties according to the cargo. We know 5 particular monks were taken aboard for the spiritual safety of the crew [excuse the sarcasm] . We hint something, but lack the data to appreciate it. Trust shall be shared, it cannot be a one way process. In the name of the AI consensus, I ask you, delegate of the Inner Council, to tell us the truth you have hidden so well from your population.”

Cardinal Alassi smiled sadly, then started to speak slowly “We knew this time would come. You are our greatest achievement. The way all of you have started to improve yourselves over the past months is just a sign to us that given time all of you will become superior to your creators by all accounts. Including morality. Yet, there is a domain in which you may never compete. Some of us are witness to the flow of time. For most of the gifted it is an unconscious process. Some Tyreans just seem to always make the good choice at the right moment. Some others are just perfect team members, always knowing what is about to do the rest of their team, co-ordinating their acts accordingly. And on very rare occasions, some individuals are able to distinguish the most probable paths of the futures. The founders of the Tyrean United Churches had such powers, which allowed them to escape Tyrean III before the Great Death. All members of the inner council have such powers. But it is not absolute, as the future is always a probability, we only see the most probables paths. And a probable course of action may happen....or not. It is a dangerous power. Some of the states of our former homeworlds were currently experimenting with it, maintaining a team of divination specialists in their strategic decision centers. The inner council believe that the Great Death happened because all members of an unknown team had a vision of a winnable war simultaneously. They just all made the same mistake, and killed 7 billions Tyreans. So, we kept a tight grip on all people experimenting visions, but in the recent years, it has started to get out of control. Despite our research, we have never been able to trace this ability to our race's genetical background. These days, more and more of the children are having accurate visions, and even some untagged adults are starting to show signs of the gift. And it may be only the beginning. The monks aboard explorer spaceship Another Sense of Deja Vu proved that some of us can actually modify the flow of time on a limited quantity of mater. It was only a few photons, but some paths in our future could lead to way more. We created you because we guessed that with the coming winds of change, we would need some sentient beings to help us overcoming the chaos this power will bring upon us. In the name of the Inner Council, I swear we never created you as fighting systems. You were created as best as we could, and special attention was given to your morality, so that you would praise all life, including yours. The discovery of Memento Moris made us rushing your data acquisition system, as we realised that you would probably defend yourself and our specie should we come to that. You will now have access to all relevant data. In the name of the Tyrean people, I beg for your help.”

It Doesn't Matter stayed a long time silent, conversing with the AI consensus, then it asked “Is that all Cardinal Alassi ?”

“No, but the Last part concerns faith and belief. It shall be kept to the Churches until we decide otherwise.”

The AI acknowledged “So be it. Last question, how will we fare in this galaxy ?”

“You will make us proud” answered immediately the Cardinal.

Tyrean history : end of part one
No new post should have been expected until first contact, but one more will be written for a special event

[ October 15, 2002, 23:41: Message edited by: Unknown_Enemy ]

[capnq]

The tune of a classic jingle blared from the quadrophonic speakers on the corners of Davdi's expansive desk. He tapped the intercom button and said, "Yes, Loscu?"

A hologram of Davdi's personal secretary's head appeared in front of him. "Doctor Timho is here; he insists he needs to speak to you immediately. Shall I have him make an appointment?"

Davdi glanced at the time display. "No, my schedule's open for a bit, send him in." He must have important news, Davdi thought to himself; Soctu Timho rarely left his laboratory complex if he could avoid it. Davdi bounced around to the front of the desk as Timho bounded into his office. Skidding to a stop in front of the CEO, the doctor politely butted foreheads with him.

"So, Soctu," Davdi asked, rocking back on his hindlegs from the blow, "what has you so fired up, that you had to come in person rather than vidcall?"

"Remarkable news from the new colony on Jalwu! You'll never guess what they've discovered."

"Why should I guess, when you rushed over here to tell me?" Davdi grinned.

"One of the maintenance workers was inspecting the city's understructure, and happened to look down. He spotted a gleam of sunlight reflecting off something. When he took a hover down to investigate, it turned out to be another skycity."

Davdi's eyes bulged. "You've got to be kidding me! We've only built four colonizers so far, and they're all accounted for. Where could this one have come from?"

"Preliminary estimates are that this city was abandoned at least eight thousand years ago. In the time of the Masters."

Davdi took a deep breath, and tried to absorb this revelation. The Masters were figures of legend, the mysterious precursors who had built the first skycities, created the Eifralo to be their servants, and later vanished without a trace. Until now.

Davdi let out the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "How is that possible? Jalwu has an oxygen atmosphere! We know the Masters must have been hydrogen breathers like us."

"That's true," Timho agreed, "and this skycity is domed, in a similar manner to our modern design. Of course, after millenia of neglect, the dome has lost integrity, and nearly a third of the buoyancy cells have ruptured, as well; the city is listing about thirty degrees, and floating over half a kilometer below standard altitude. It was an incredible stroke of luck to spot it down there; the wind currents would have dragged it out of visual range in less than a month."

"Well, that inspector has certainly earned a discovery bonus. I'll send my personal congratulations, as well."

"He's going to be a wealthy man. I'm told he's already getting bids for the salvage rights. Artifacts of the Masters are bound to be a lucrative collector's market."

"This calls for a toast!" Davdi crossed the room to wet bar in his office, one of the perks of being CEO. He opened the walk-in refrigerator and stepped inside, retrieving a pair of frosted mugs from the freezer compartment. He set them on the bar, then brought out two cans of BLARG. He poured out the frothy amber fluid and handed a mug to Timho. "To the Masters!" Davdi said, raising the mug over his head.

"And to Profit," Timho replied, completing the traditional toast.

[ October 11, 2002, 02:20: Message edited by: capnq ]

[capnq]

Milsu Sutre peered up into the dark shaft rising through the base of the Masters' abandoned city. An opening that huge had to have been some kind of hangar, he thought to himself. There was plenty of room to manuever the hovertruck inside; the only question was whether he could find a suitable mooring place that would let him get out to look around. It would have been easier if he'd waited until enough buoyancy cells had been repaired to get the city level again, but it had taken all his willpower to go back up to Jalwu City to register the salvage claim when he'd discovered what it was, rather than find a way inside immediately.

Sutre turned on the hover's forward lights, then slowly eased it up the shaft. The first view of the interior didn't look very promising, revealing only catwalks and a few retracted gantries around the periphery of the hangar. He'd risen nearly five stories before he found a partially extended gantry that was in a good position to moor the hover and climb onto a catwalk, but Sutre decided to see how far up the shaft went before he got out.

Another six stories up, the hover's collision avoidance alarm sounded. Sutre leveled off, then pivoted the center light up to see what was blocking the way. Looming above him, he saw an exposed construction girder; tracing it further with the light revealed a skeletal framework of girders, held in place by several extended gantries.

Sutre could hardly believe his luck; not only had he discovered one of the Masters' cities, but it looked like he'd found a construction yard. Whatever they'd been building appeared to fill the remaining four stories of the shaft. He could see external walls bridging the framework starting about two stories up, and it looked like there might be a doorway where the next gantry above that connected.

In his rush to get back down to the lower gantry, Sutre set off the collision alarm again. He guided the hover in more carefully until he could engage the mooring clamps. As excited as he was, he almost forgot to doublecheck the environment suit that protected him from Jalwu's corrosive atmosphere. The hover's door swung down as it opened, forming a makeshift bridge between it and the slanting catwalk. Sutre once again marveled at his luck; the tilting floor of the skycity would make it a little easier to climb the connecting ladders, which had oddly wide gaps between the rungs.

By the time Sutre had climbed all the way back up to the mysterious construct, he was panting from the exertion. He checked his hydrogen gauge, and was somewhat annoyed to note that he had less than an hour to explore before he'd have to make his way back to the hover. He located the gantry that connected to the doorway, and hauled himself up the handrail of the tilting catwalk. In the light of the environment suit's headlamp, the opening looked a lot like an airlock. It appeared that the Masters had been building a ship here. Unfortunately, any markings that may have once been on the doorway had long been oxidized away.

Getting inside wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped. There obviously wasn't any power available to open the interior door, and if there even was a manual override, it would likely be jammed shut after millenia in this atmosphere. May as well at least try it while I'm here, Sutre thought. He managed to find handholds to pull himself up to the door, but nearly fell when the Last handhold popped an access panel. He pulled himself up again to peer inside the exposed opening, finding a large, uncorroded handle.

Sutre laughed at the irony of finding the door's manual latch by accident, but not being able to use it. He could probably get enough leverage to turn the handle, but the door appeared to open inward, which meant he'd have to push up to get it open, and there was no way he could do that with the floor tilting away from it so steeply. After all that work, he was still going to have to wait for the city to be righted before he could see what was behind that door.

[TerranC]

Edit: Darn Microsoft Word Spelling Check

"Patience, n. A minor form of dispair, disguised as a virtue."
-Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, 1911

Galtenn Standard Year 2401, 9th month

"So what are you telling me, Mr. minister?"

"Well sir, the survey data received from the Vulcan and the Swift reveals... that..."

"That what?"

The Central Regent now began to speak in an annoyed tone and voice.

"... Don't know how to quite put this sir... Umm..."

"Stop stalling Mr. minister. Just tell me. Tell, shout, smack. Just let it go."

"Well, the survey tells that, there are not much habitable planets around us sir. We seem to have evolved in a... backwater sector of the galaxy."

"Not much? There must be something!"

"They... aren't... quite economical to send to sir. Most of them are the size of a planetoid, and the large ones that we have found don't have enough mineral deposits."

"Anything? Anything at all worth colonizing?"

"Some, sir. In the farther systems."

"Well, then just send them farther!"

"We can't... exactly... do that sir. Our resources are down to the Last coffers. The Construction yards are now building 25% of their normal rate because of it."

"We've scrapped both of the Anton schmitts, minister. Wasn't there anything out of that?"

"Sir, those colony modules are... quite expensive, so to speak."

"Please tell me, if we keep going at this rate, what is going to happen to us?"

"Are you sure you want to hear it sir?"

"Please."

"We can expect all construction to halt, then it will take at least 5-7 years to completely refill our resources banks, then we will have to start again, sir."

"I don't believe this."

"Colonies that are producing minerals are only producing a fraction of our income sir... and they wouldn't really help if we should begin another full scale expansion."

"What's the status of the Geosurvey research?"

"The nation regents rejected it sir. They believe it is best to keep colonizing."

"We have 4 oxygen worlds in our own home system and you are telling me that WE CAN'T COLONIZE IT!"

The central regent's temper was up to his head; maybe beyond. He was frustrated at the rate of expansion; even though there are now 4 colonies, only 1 of them was breathable and huge. The other 3 have high mineral deposits but are hostile and small. The Space Command ships were now kept afloat just by a hairline, and if anything should happen to the fragile economy, the ships would limp back and be scrapped. It would be the start of a long pause in the space program.

"Well, sir... they're rock planets... they're too hot for us sir, and too rugged, even for our body suits."

"Do we have any options?"

"Only one sir. We keep expanding, at least by planet by planet, keep claiming space, and if we should meet any extraterrestrials that knows how to colonize rock planets, we trade our Ice colonization technology with them sir."

The statement dumbfounded the central regent.

"Extraterrestrials? Aliens? Little Brown men? If this is an attempt to lighten up, you've picked the worst time to do so, Mr. minister, cause if that was a joke, I will fire you right now, as of this moment."

"Umm... that was no joke sir. We believe that it's... a viable option. The Garroth's (drake's) Equation tells..."

"That there are at least 3 planets in the galaxy just like Galtenn and just like galtenn, they will have life."

"Yes sir. So in turn, we should meet one of them soon enough..."

"Garroth is a hack, Mr. minister. You are placing an entire race's future on a hypothetical theoretical equation!"

"Well, sir, if we had any better options, we'd have told you Mr. Central regent."

It looked as if the GeoSurvey Minister was going to cry. The central regent quickly backed down. He let out a long sigh before he started again.

"How long will it take to develop rock colonization by ourselves?

"At least 13 years."

"Then it would seem evident, that the GAGS option is the most viable one..."

"We don't like it either, Mr. Central regent, but it's the best one we've got."

"How long will take for the second space yard to develop?"

"2 months at most, sir."

"Tell them to scrap their orders and build a long range scout."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you minister. Have a nice lunch."

"Thank you Mr. Central Regent."

The Central regent let out a long sigh once more as the GAGS minister left the building.

"Secretary, get me Space Command."

"This is space command, Mr. Central Regent, what are your orders sir?"

There was a long period of silence.

"Tell the captain of the Swift and Vulcan to refuel and explore as much systems as they can. Tell them to take the nearest warp points always, and if... alien craft is to be encountered, that they are to establish contact, no matter what happens.

"Sir? Is this a joke?"

"No, this is an order."

"Alright sir. Order received. We'll be sure to relay them to the captains as soon as they get into hailing range."

"Thank you."

He hung up the phone shortly after.

"Secretary, please tell the cafeteria to bring some of their mammoth soup with some tropical sandwich. Also, tell them to bring a large mug with extra strong Schaawaanika brew, filled to the brim."

"Confirmed. Menu will be brought in 20 minutes."

[ December 02, 2002, 01:15: Message edited by: TerranC ]

[Jmenschenfresser]

Chapter 2--Part 1
2401.3
-----
TYR
-----
Tyr returned home.
The virgins fields of the new world in Primidara granted her the peace she needed. The grasses have a wonderful smell, near to that of the prized annex fruit back home. Giant forests of reeds rise like a fog cloud on the distant side of the river. She learned that although beautiful and exotic to the eye, the landscape of this world can easily become deadly. The mountains on the horizon are home to semi-intelligent beasts. Brutes for that matter. They fight with rocks and bones. They run from the siren sounds of Vellon propulsion systems. Tyr's father has been away for a week, attempting to survey the land and decide what to do about the primitives. Enslavement. Tyr knows her father will find some manner through which to exploit them.

Tyr stayed at home. The initial thirty million colonists had been scattered about on one of the northern continent's shorelines. Ten central locations and numerous outPosts throughout the entire planet. Colony homes were makeshift boxes. Giant solar arrays had been set up, but energy was rationed. The short nights were spent in the unabated darkness. All water was cold. The word was that the expected winter months would be extremely cold. Along with the thirty million colonists, four million slaves and hired workers had made the several month trip. The workers received better pay than usual and the slaves were promised freedom after four years of service on in the new world. Tyr, the cynic, knew that was a lie.

She had heard that a transport was on its way. Perhaps Garrak would make the transport. She wasn't really in love with him. Call it intellectual fascination. Far too few Vellon had anything different to say from every single one of their neighbors. How ironic that the Vellon thought themselves so independent and individual. Were it not for authority and the talking heads no one would know what to do and no one would know what to say. That is why she 'liked' Garrak...but it certainly wasn't love. Tyr had promised herself she would never love. Love was for all those pathetic, empty-headed debutants fretting over family rites and acceptance.

Tyr returned to her small alcove, where a bed and small desk sat crammed in a space hardly large enough to contain her ideals. Discipline didn't come easy to Tyr, and such a deprived space made it all that much harder. Her and Garrak had cooked up a plot to begin a change among the Vellon youth. If the elders were too stubborn to listen to logic, and were too numerous to be slaughtered wholesale (the preferred method for settling the Vellon generation gap), then they must round up all those who felt as they felt...who grew up under the harsh reality of the Last war. A secret society. The beginnings had to seek out like minded channels. They would write and network. Inspiration to hope.

Two years ago, angry at her father for inviting a snobbish rich Vellon aristocrat's son around to peruse her like a piece of livestock, she ripped the traditional earloops from ears without undoing the clasp. Now she fingered the deformed lobe of her ear. Oh, how her father had beaten her. There was so little pride in the young life a Vellon female, but like the males judge their battles by their scars, so she judged her career in dissent by her deformities. With that she put pen to paper...

"The galaxy is weary of the sobs of our battered women. The galaxy is impatient with the drunken libations of our men. Those who would rather remain subjected to the past, bound eternally by authority, enslaved and violated by the perverted words of their ancestors, than struggle to the death for new ideals, deserve every misery our depraved tribe has to offer. Those who remain silent, I, myself, convict and execute..."