Univaria

[Trailers]

He's rivaling you in long windedness Zersty. D=

[Zerstorendar]

He has yet to equal that massive monstrosity that I finished Vicarious with, oh lawd ;_;

But ontopic, he said he would do some more tonight. WAY TO BE PUNCTUAL, UNIVARIA.

[Univaria]

Sorry, since my 'net went down I've had my hands full. I'll continue this as soon as I can. This is going to take longer than I thought, but I'll get it done.

[Kostemetsia]

SOMETIMES THIS SHIT IS BEST DONE IN SEGMENTS, I THINK

[Trailers]

Sorry, since my 'net went down I've had my hands full. I'll continue this as soon as I can. This is going to take longer than I thought, but I'll get it done.

No rush

[Univaria]

Friedman found himself seeing black. Not the kind of black that implies a lack of consciousness, but rather that flavour that tells you that your physical condition is important enough to your captor not to harm, although this does not stop them blindfolding you.

Or, in this case, simply using their hands.

"Cassandra Soryu, this is certainly no time for games", he sighed, "I was wondering when you'd catch up, anyway"

"I had to watch my step when exiting the cargo hold. They were keeping a pretty tight watch on the craft, so I was a tad delayed"

"... and by 'delayed' you mean that you were enjoying playing mind games with the pilot, right?"

"Yes, although what you're doing isn't much different"

Friedman gave up. She was right.

_________________________________________

General Morgan trusted Friedman, he cut through the bullshit.. But perhaps he shouldn't have.

_________________________________________

Friedman and Soryu were welcomed into the Nightmare colony with open arms. After all, it was his devices that delivered the Pulse Cannon to them. Because of him, potential military disaster had been averted. A household name. A hero.

This, he hadn't expected.

Yes, it was true that he was the one that made it possible for the Pulse Cannon to be stolen. Yes, it was true that he had removed all data and blueprints of it, as well as backups. Yes, it was true that he had manipulated the brass to send him here, saving him the trouble of escaping. Yes, it was true that he had his woman and his favourite guitar.

But the research money.

That, he hadn't expected.

Tendrils of self-hatred tore at his heart. He was considering selling these people out. How could he deny it? Unlimited resources with which to conduct any kind of research he wished. In the long run, the benefits would be enormous, with Univaria undoubtedly becoming a leader in technological and medical innovation. All it would cost would be the lives of a single Nightmare colony, a few thousand people at most.
But he loved them. And the inner conflict began anew.

"How naive", a shoulder-spirit whispered to him, "Are you really willing to damage the future of your establishment for the personal feelings you hold?"

"Of course, you'd be throwing away lives for money", another giggled, "Who says you'd even use it for research? You're really quite the disgusting, indulgent creature, after all!"

"Too true!", the first one cackled, "You'd probably spend it on gifts for that whore you call a lover. Anything for a bit of validation, no?"

The second one cried out in glee. "After all, this about who will validate you in the end, right? You have to choose between being a noble, sacrificial hero for these people, or a triumphant warlord for the General"

"You monster", the first daemon spat, "The love of thousands of people isn't enough when they're no-one, right? So they can all die, as long as you get to be loved by those with power!"

"There's the catch!", the second one cooed, "After giving up the lives of these people, you'd hate yourself even more. Then, no amount of love could validate you. But, then you'd have the money to do all the good, or evil, that you desire"

Friedman waved the daemons away. They always seemed to interfere at times like this, and he certainly didn't need them calling him nasty names, even if they were right. A difficult situation, all things said. He mused, perhaps, that his choice might reflect a parodied self image. If he spared the people, the Pulse Cannon technology would never be used and he would live in the moral exultation of having removed a devastating weapon from the military. A lovely, heroic image.
But then there was the darker appeal of a mass murderer, destroying his own ideals for the greater good and benefit to the world.

Dreams, of course. He couldn't decide now, but he would have to decide and do so on his own. After all, he couldn't tell anyone, least of all Cassy. He had a feeling she would understand, all things considered, but he didn't want to risk it. He knew people here, of course. He had friends in good places. Of course, she would find out in the end. There was no denying it. A combination of Friedman's own unwillingness to lie and her inquisitiveness would see to that. Laughing inwardly, Friedman thought that she'd enjoy such a moral conflict. She was something of a sadist in that regard.

In any case, Friedman had removed the Pulse Cannon from the hands of General Morgan, simply because he thought the weapon too powerful to be used by just about anyone. At least this Nightmare colony had no military power, and thus couldn't risk using such a weapon.

There was one issue, however. Technically, the General knew where he was. Wasn't it the case that he could simply sweep the area and find the Cannon with a mass of troops? It was likely that Friedman was sent so as to avoid unnecessary conflict. Which meant that if he asked after the Cannon (and he would be answered, no doubt about that) and reported the information he had, he may well end up saving lives, even if it meant slaughter.

That was it. People were going to die, either way, and he hadn't thought of it. It was always his hope that such power would never fall into his hands. He was, after all, irresponsible, which he freely admitted. There was always the possibility of lying, saying that the Cannon had been removed and relocated, but then the General would expect further information. No, nothing for it.

People were going to die, either way, and he hadn't thought of it. People were going to die, either way, and he hadn't thought of it. Peopleweregoingtodiepeopleweregoingtodiepeopleweregoingtodie and I should have known.

Good intentions pave the road to hell. "There's a special place, just for me", Friedman mused under his breath.

_________________________________________

Friedman and Soryu were shown to a house on the outskirts of the colony. It wasn't large, but it was well-furnished and very livable, as per Friedman's request. His guide, who he vaguely recognised, told him that this was for the sake of his own privacy. Contact details for major services and people of interest to him could be found underneath the communications interface. Apparently, he was going to a private audience with leader politic of this community the next day. He recognised the name, although last time he checked the man had a lower standing. A fellow by the name of Gabriel Alexander.

Interesting. Since he hadn't revealed anything about his mission concerning the Pulse Cannon, he wondered what matter might be so pressing.

The night's sleep was uninterrupted and dreamless.

I SHOULD STOP TELLING YOU THAT THE CONCLUSION IS IN THE NEXT PART, BECAUSE IT'S BULLSHIT. MORE TO COME.

[Univaria]

The next morning, Cassandra was largely left to her own devices, despite Friedman's better judgment. It was good, though, as she had spent the last couple of days trailing in his shadow and it was time she became more heavily acquainted with the locals. So she did. It might have been described as "cataclysmic" if people found it in themselves to dislike her a tad more, but her self-assured, destructive absent-mindedness when it came to matters of the physical realm was more endearing than frustrating. Even if she owed money to half a dozen of the local residents.

She had taken on a more local garment. Here, button-up shirts seemed to be the style for women, so she purchased a few in an ironic display of hipsterism and wondering exactly when people would start hating her. Perhaps, for a moment, she should have considered being less socially confrontational. There was a delicious new culture in front of her, however, and she felt that some subtle mockery might satisfy her social sadism before she more readily and sincerely integrated herself for the time being.

Still, her sense of humour and wit earned some friends. There was the adeptly named "Rose", a pretty young woman of about the same age as Cassy with enough cynicism to bite a Buddhist monk, and a man known just as "Hands". They elected to be her guides. Rose, apparently, was an apprentice-equivalent to a small coven of neuroscientists and Hands was, funnily enough, an engineer. The two worked together, Cassy was told, purely casually. Something to do with robotic interaction with true AI, but the details went right over her head. Cassy wasn't a scientist, despite her interest in such fields. The details were for other people, she just had to know what the final product was.
What she remembered was that progress was slow. Which was to be expected, given the complexity of such a project.

One thing caught Cassandra right off guard. The local music, a horrifying symphony of artistic virtuosity, rampaged and growled with all the fury of a cornered beast, but tugged at her heart with the finesse of a lover's touch. What appeared to be a guitar sang wildly, its sweeping melodies throwing Cassandra into the air and refusing to reinstate gravity. The rhythm pounded ceaselessly, like the gallop of a knightly horse, and the singing was like the pleasure-throes of a daemon or angel - Cassandra couldn't decide which.
The song ended, and the silence shocked her back into reality. "What was that music?", she breathed, heart pounding. Rose and Hands were visibly amused.

"You don't have heavy metal where you come from?"

____________________________________________

Gabriel Alexander. He was a large man, or at least much bigger than Friedman. Not that size ever impressed Friedman, but there was the general, nagging feeling that Gabriel had earned his size. And not through bodybuilding and diet, but through blood and bullets. That, indeed, was quite imposing. None of Gabriel's gentle speech could remove his warlike atmosphere, which lent a gravity to his words that no tone of voice could accomplish.

"Daniel Friedman. It is an honour to meet you, of course. I am not a man of pleasantries, I'm afraid, and would prefer to get straight to business"

"I think we'll get along", Friedman grinned, "So, boss, what's making your curiosity itch?"

"Concern", Gabriel said, flatly, "I know the circumstances of your arrival here. Don't think that we don't have eyes in hidden places, despite our lack of finance"

Friedman entered a polite silence, implying that Gabriel should continue.

"I'll be blunt, as promised. I know that General Morgan knows of our whereabouts and now has a reason to come after us. It was something of a fatal flaw in the plan to steal the Pulse Cannon"

"Right", Friedman interjected, "Not even I knew about the GPS system that airship had"

"Unfortunate, to say the least. Now, I fear that our actions have brought ruin upon us. There are two major courses of action - retain the Pulse Cannon and possibly die, or deliver it to Morgan and possibly live"

Friedman sighed, his usual humour wilting under the weight of the conversation. "You know that handing it over will just engineer an arms race. If we kept it and destroyed the components and wiped all traces of the blueprints and theory, it would prevent such a potential crisis. But, that costs lives, doesn't it?"

"Unusual. I thought you would have wanted to deliver it yourself. I know about your reward, and I know that you don't want to cause needless death. But at this stage, it's going to happen either way, isn't it? For you, it's a matter of the lesser evil, while people die either way. One path leads to the inclusion of pulse weapon technology and other huge advancements, while the other results in political stability."

It couldn't be helped. Gabriel was right. He continued.

"There is one course of action we could take. Evacuation. Of course, we'd have to relocate to another Nightmare colony and brave the wilderness for a time, but we would be able to deny the Pulse Cannon to the Dreamchildren and remove the possibility of senseless violence."

"That would be so complex, though", Friedman said, "It would require a huge stockpile of supplies, adequate transport, a stealthy exit and the speed to avoid any assailants."

"What other choice is there? Without such an exodus we will die, or disrupt the inhabitants of this planet forever", Gabriel solemnly contended, "For the last few years, these have been my people. I will not see them die."

Friedman matched Gabriel's gaze.

"Daniel Friedman, you're an intelligent, wise man. You know it's not your place to make the final decision for these people, but your hands wrought this situation and it deserves your council"

"Well, Mr. Gabriel Alexander", Friedman said, grinning once again, "I hadn't considered that a possibility at all. I may be intelligent but I'm not clever, so you'll have to excuse my oversights. Although I think I might know what you want - you want me to boost morale, right?"

"Correct. If we were to evacuate, the people need a hero. He needn't be a strong warrior or a powerful athlete, just charismatic. Given both your personality and knowledge of this situation, making you a figurehead could neutralise much of the nay-saying and inspire confidence in such an operation"

"Monsieur, you flatter me so!" Friedman laughed. "So, I just need to smile a lot and be a little bit sexy, then?"

"If you like", Gabriel said, his tone becoming even more sober in preparation for his next phrase, "How long, do you think, until the General loses patience?"

"Oh shit. We have a month at most, but I'd guess about half that time"

"We will leave within two weeks"

NEXT TIME - NIGHTMARE EXODUS

[Univaria]

Two weeks of preparations was plenty. There were flaws, of course, but it looked as if the getaway would be clean. The plan was simple: use the two old APCs the colony kept to reach an underground train that would carry them and some supplies. After that, they would have one day's journey on foot from the closest point on the railway to the nearest Nightmare colony.
As it stood, the APCs would take many journeys to carry the whole population to the train, even with additional civilians hanging off the side and sitting up top. A short journey meant that this wasn't such a huge issue. Friedman decided that he would go last and oversee the organisation of civilians with Gabriel Alexander and other organisational personal. Cassandra elected to stay, too. She insisted that the wait would be "more boring than a room full of chessmasters at midnight". To her delight, Rose and Hands didn't seem to want to leave her, either. To Friedman's chagrin she wasn't much help, but she was out of trouble, at least (for those interested, she had convinced Friedman to pay off her debts).

Friedman stood outside, the sun falling gently on the shoulders of the green earth and illuminating the horizon. A small, military-issue radio cackled and occasionally gifted him with a recognisable musical note. Apparently, the sound coming from the damned thing was supposed to be music. Friedman shrugged and ticked off some more names.

"So, your name is...?"

"Syu'K--"

Friedman's mind snapped, if only for just a second. He remembered a little girl, and then reality seemed to deimpose itself for a second. He shook his head and return just in time to hear Cassandra pleading.

"Such an adorable girl! Can we have one? Please? Pleaaaaaaase?"

"Only if you promise to feed it and wash it and take it for walks every day, my dear"

Cassy blew a raspberry and continued chasing Rose with a small spider in her hand. Friedman shook himself, regained composition and smiled. It was all working. They'd escape with the weapon and no lives would be lost. Fantastic. It was almost too good to be -

The radio sang its warning siren and Gabriel Alexander's voice shot through like a bullet,

"Looks like we guessed wrong, Friedman. Dreamchild airbourne troop carriers have bee spotted, approaching from the South-East."

Friedman frantically found the respond button.

"You're fucking kidding. We still have a quarter of the civilians to go! Not to mention supplies!"

"It's too late. You've got fifteen minutes before they arrive - I'll be joining you in five."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we have to fight to give the lucky civs time to get the bloody train. They've already been told not to wait for the last of us. It's a fight."

"I'm not a fighter!"

"Unfortunate, but true. The weapon has already been loaded into the train, so this is not in vain."

"Okay. That's something. So what's the plan of action?"

"Ambush."

_________________________________________________

The tension could have killed a man. Just as well it didn't, because Gabriel needed every man. And every woman, for that matter. There were about two-hundred remaining civilians, including Friedman and Cassandra. The plan was thus:

The colony would appear as a ghost town, leading the attackers to believe that the entire population had already left. Hiding in the buildings, the Nightmare civs were to hold concealed positions until Gabriel gave the order. Then, they would mow down the unaware aggressors through sheer volume of fire. There were weapons to go around - mostly primitive solid-slug artifacts, but enough to punch through basic landing infantry armour. Simple enough.

And so the long wait began. Holed up in houses, behind walls and atop trees, the defenders watched the aircraft slowly arrive and drop their troops. It was indeed only fifteen minutes until the Dreamchild arrival, but it was another fifteen until they were organised and ready to enter. It was hard to tell exactly how many there were - Friedman counted a few dozen at least before their movements threw him off. Even if the civs outnumbered them, they were professional soldiers.

The wait became even more excruciating given the approach of the Dreamchildren. Their advance was done under the assumption that they were to be fired upon - quite wise, Friedman thought. But that meant that they kept constant overwatch and their entry into the colony took longer than it had to. Friedman hoped his discipline would hold up. But they had to wait until Gabriel's order. The Dreamchild soldiers, eventually, regrouped in a clear area with little housing - where the entire colony could look easily upon.

"OPEN FIRE"

And they did. The civilians hadn't much hope of aiming well, but the volume of fire did its job and five soldiers fell instantly, others being pinned to the ground and running for cover. One threw a grenade, which did little considering the position covered by the Nightmares. It was hard to hit the Dreamchildren now - they were behind cover, quickly moving from spot to spot. Still, the civilians held the advantage as long as they could keep the soldiers pinned down within a certain area.

Gabriel threw a grenade into the collection of Dreamchildren huddled behind a low wall. The area was not clear, nor secure, but it was time to move. The APCs would be returning despite the fact that the escaped civilians would be leaving, and Gabriel knew that if they could get into a safe position during the arrival of the APCs, there would be enough firepower to turn this risky situation into a victory and escape. Nothing for it.

"Let's move! To the pickup point!"

_________________________________________________

Cassandra was quite pleased. She had selected a good building - overlooking the very position that the Dreamchildren occupied. Counting on her fingers, she reasoned that she accounted for at least five casualties - not bad for someone so untrained!

"Let's move! To the pickup point!"

She reluctantly gave up her position and began to move towards the exit, feeling victory run hot through her veins. The main issue with reaching the pickup point was the Dreamchild soldier standing in the doorway. He hadn't seen her, but she'd have to escape. The windows were too high - she'd break her legs jumping down. She decided to play on the structure of the rooms, and rapped on a wall as she proceeded to exit the opposite way. Haha, too easy-

"I never fall for that one"

_________________________________________________

The escape to the pickup point was successful. Now, to do a headcount and wait for the APCs. Friedman counted... counted... recounted. One missing. His heart sank as he realised - Cassandra was still escaping. To go back was suicide, so he waited. The seconds were agonising.

_________________________________________________

Cassandra was pushed against the wall as the soldier wordlessly perused her physique with his hands. She struggled, so the soldier hit her and she didn't struggle again. When the soldier was satisfied that what he had found was suitable, he unbuttoned her shirt and began his crude work. Fear and anger fought in Cassandra's mind - this violation would not go unpunished... but the potential pain was unspeakable.
She felt her bra slip from her chest and her trousers from her waist. The soldier spared her nothing, engaging in his work furiously from the beginning. His grunts were blasphemies on Cassandra's mind, mocking her vulnerability. Such oppressions didn't stop, however, and she felt defiled in entirety, every each of her skin kneaded, groped or slathered with vile saliva.
It seemed to take hours for the soldier to finish, even though the reality spoke of only a few minutes.

_________________________________________________

Friedman was sick of waiting. Gabriel insisted that going back in was suicide, and that they should wait for the APCs. Friedman wasn't prepared to. He was intelligent, charismatic, well-humoured and a complete fool when it came to women and this one would not die on him if he had anything to do with it. Armed with an assault rifle, a few extra magazines, some grenades reluctantly handed over by Gabriel and his wits, Friedman went back into town in search of Cassandra. He stuck to cover and favoured stealth, hoping not to need to shoot. There were less soldiers than Gabriel predicted, probably - in any case, Friedman slipped through.
Friedman headed straight for the building he saw her enter earlier. The contents of the building tore at him. Cassandra, naked, was huddled in a corner. Her body was moist and a foreign fluid dripped from between her legs. To announce his presence, Friedman attempted to say her name, instead being unable to move past a skeletal "Ca".
She didn't respond. She couldn't.

Friedman left the lifeless corpse alone. Better not confuse the image of the living with the identity of the dead.

_________________________________________________

While Friedman was gone, the APCs had arrived and were advancing into the colony. Gabriel Alexander had told them to be on lookout. At worst, the APCs would push the current soldiers out of the colony long enough to evacuate the remaining civillians.
Gabriel liked Friedman, and Cassandra for that matter. His experience disallowed much hope for their survival, but he did regret their situation. So, just in case, the APCs were to hold fire in case of an unconfirmed target. Just in case.

_________________________________________________

Friedman was quite suicidal, but not consciously so. The weapon was in safe hands, but he had left his old life behind with only a lover as a form of security and now she was dead. His most advanced work threatened the lives of billions and his betrayal to Morgan was probably known by now. Nothing else for it. Surrounded and having falling into despair, Friedman was determined to die with his boots on.

As he exited the building, a soldier spotted him and opened fire - with a jammed gun. Cursing, the soldier pulled out a knife and went for the jugular. Friedman was scratched along the neck, but in his self-destructive rage turned the knife against the soldier and removed his head amongst the sounds of frenzied gurgles.

Turning his attention towards the remnants of a squad, he threw the severed head towards them. The head stared at them pleadingly, and in their horror they didn't at first recognise Friedman standing before them.

"I'm going to fuck the lot of you so hard that you'll be bleeding infants for a week".

Friedman managed to shoot one down before a bullet caught him in the mouth.

_________________________________________________

The Pulse Cannon reached the other Nightmare colony, along with the civilians. What happened to Gabriel Alexander and the last civilians was much the same.

In the end, Cassandra's carelessness can be thanked. While the APCs ultimately pushed the Dreamchildren out, ultimately Friedman bought the time that was needed for the last of the civilians to escape.

In that way, although he didn't mean it, one could argue that he redeemed himself. In all practical terms, however, the Pulse Cannon was never recaptured by the Dreamchildren - mission accomplished.

Fin.

[Zerstorendar]

Powerful, but I raged so hard one of my eyeballs exploded. We will discuss why ASAP.

[Univaria]

Scenario #3 Fourty years ago, your people made the FTL technology breakthrough and have been welcomed into the galactic community. Since then, you have been inducted into a relatively small, but still influential trade and service alliance of bordering civilizations. Unfortunately some other alliance has some grievance with your new friends, and now they're gathering arms to rectify their grievance. 'Galactic diplomacy'. These foes are centuries ahead of you in war technology. Play this one out to a reasonable conclusion; the war itself does not necessarily have to be concluded, just your nation's assured survival.

The Warship Defiled Nazarene was preparing for her maiden voyage. She would simply hang above the atmosphere of Univaria until the enemy got fed up with dying.
In an unprecedented political move, the Nightmares made the offering of their prime Warship, and with it, the pulse technology that was stolen over a hundred years ago by the rogue terrorist Daniel Friedman. Now, Lieutenant Awx hoped it would be enough. He had no great love of the Dreamchildren, but Univaria was his home, after all, and the Nightmares didn't have the pure military force to fend off a large-scale attack like this.
Ultimately, the objective was to hold out until a fleet from the allied world of Koruxis arrived. Between the anvil of Univaria and the hammer of Koruxis, the aggressors wouldn't have a chance. Time was of the essence, however, and it might already be too late. Awx checked the roster - all staff and soldiers aboard. Taking his own seat, he simply sat dormant for the last excruciating minutes before liftoff. Lieutenant Awx Jive Thunderfist shifted uneasily, feeling a tad overwhelmed at the helm of the Pulse Cannon.

The emerald greens and sapphiric blues of Univaria plummeted as the intergalactic void loomed nearer. Awx was the first to sound off in the assault team, his usual slogan eliciting its usual sniggering:

"Lieutenant Awx Jive Thunderfist. The way I'm going to fuck these guys, we'll be married in weeks."
"Corporal Jace Dotson Gawduffle. Faster than a speeding virgin."
"PFC Fuklaw Fuklaw Fuklaw. Breakin' the law."
"Lance Corporal Lance McVance. Death on two legs and four wings."

Had Awx not been chosen to man the Pulse Cannon, he would be flying with his wingmen in small assault craft. For the sake of simplicity and morale, they would continue to work as a unit, with Awx simply being in a less flexible position.

Lance spoke first, "Hey Awx, got a visual?"
"Affirmative"
"Enemy sighted? You know what that means. In range!"
"Affirmative. Waiting for permission to-"
Another voice entered the channel: "Lieutenant Thunderfist, you are cleared to fire. I repeat, that is a green light. Fire at will."
Awx readied himself for the first practical test. The first target would be the enemy flagship, which was quite neatly in the middle of the enemy formations.

Code: Select all

Target: Aquired
Barrel Integrity: 100%
Core Status: Stable

The weapon initiated. There was a slight delay. The flagship expanded violently and shattered. What there wasn't was a visual confirmation of the cannon firing, a sound or even a modicum of recoil.

Code: Select all

Target: Eliminated
Barrel Integrity: 100%
Core Status: Stable

What remained of the opposing fleet opened fire. The Defiled Nazarene shrugged off half a dozen warheads and fired its own armaments, its ponderous advance signaling the main assault. If a retreat was to happen, the Univarian forces would have a huge advantage in mobility and positioning, and if the enemy fought on, they would do so without the central leadership of a flagship.

All in all, Awx felt quite proud and quite a bit more secure - until a rogue missile struck his position alongside the Pulse Cannon. He was unharmed, but his world went black.

Code: Select all

Target: ----
Barrel Integrity: ----
Core Status: ----

To be continued, as usual.