The Native Story Index [Open; All Techs]

[Abreddey]

I hope that I am not breaking any ruls by doing it this way but it saves time and energy. Each of these are directly a part of my nation. Indeed without these events my nation would not exist. If it does not look like it links to my nation then look at my previous forum posts. I'll leave it to you to figure out how these affect my nation's history but it should be obious.

PG
FT

Head Patriarch Stonn looks around at thecity and regret fills his thoguhts. He only wanted to make people happy, he never intended for this. The computer he invented was making people happy but was that a good thing? Looking down at the city he seescars popping out of nowhere and people getting out as the cars appear. He sees golden and platinum towers filled with people entertaining themselves. He sees an abandones park nestled away while buildings tower high above it. Unused it is covered in litter and graffiti. Nowaday children's playstructures build themselves in the child's room. Most people are fat and hundreds of thousands die each day from heart disease. They are miserable little people who waste their lives away on entertainment. My technology was never supposed to do this. It was supposed to help people, not make them like this. This appears to be a utopia but in reality- What have I done! It would be better for everyone if I died right now. My life is meaningless and so is theirs thanks to me. I have no reason to live. After weeping for a bit High Patriarch Stonn moves towards the window, thinking to fling himself out of it..

PT

"Hail the great gods!" shouts the High Priest "Hail the creators of all!"
"Hail the creators of all!" the croud shouts back.
"Let us thank them for this earth." says the High Priest "Let us thankthem for all they have done for us. It is the least we can do to provide sacrifices and hold feasts in their honor! Bring out the sacrifice"
The croud cheers, dances, and chants merrily as a sacrifice is lead to the altar. Stonn, now with white hair and wrinkles, lies on the altar waiting for death.
"This day," shouts the High Priest "we sacrifice a man who helped the gods establish their Golden City and lter led the Evil Ones against the city! He shall now be executed!"
With this the crowd descends into souting and whooping while throwing stones at Stonn. Little children sing as they throw rocks. After a few minutes of this the High Priest sstops them. Looking down at Stonn he raises the ceremonial knife. With several cuts, many bruises, a black eye, a broken arm, a broken finger, and a sizable hole in his stomach, Stonn waits for death. Terror fills Stonn. Why did I do it? Why did I have to do it? Finally the preist raises the knife and brings it down into Stonn's heart. He feels pain, everything starts to go dull and his eyesight becomes blurry. Another rush of pain splatters red across his vision as the curved knife rips out of his flesh. He can hear his heartbeat as he dies.
bum...bum...........bumbum......bumba...bumbumbum...........babum....bubum..........bum....................bum..................bum............................................babu-
The High Priest lights the body on fire as the crowd begins the festival.

MT

Looking through the museum Bill thinks about how wonderful things must have been back when The Golden City existed. Back when all you had to do was whatever you wanted to do. Looking down at his watch Bill scurries off. Calling a taxi he thinks about how in The Golden City a car would appear at the press of a button. Or how in Ancient Times his job would be more interesting and how he wouldn't receive less food for being a minute or two late. How everything was o much better a long time ago. If only thoe times were today. If only things weren't the way they were. If only Stonn hadn't tried to overthrow The Golden City everything would be much better. Maybe I would have been in his band of outlaws during the Ancient Times. Later executed but it would have been better than this life. Anything would be better than this life.

[Asiladan]

[ MT/Technically PT ]

Forlorn Dreams

The warm crackle of the fireplace, a comforting and familiar sound that filled the otherwise quiet building with life. To call it a building was an overstatement of the grandest scale. A small shack standing amongst what seemed to be an endless sea of similarly hobbled together buildings of stone and thatched rooftops. Electricity was practically unheard of for the lower class of Asiladan with the luxury reserved only for the nobility and the occasional great warrior. Such was the same for automobiles, television, and virtually every object the outside world considered common necessities.

A man shot up suddenly, his body desperately gasping for air as he awoke from a nightmarish slumber. His eyes darted around the room, scanning what would be otherwise minute details. Bits of trash, leftover bones, and even arrows sat scattered throughout the tiny shack. He put his hand firmly against the deer pelt before pushing himself upwards to a standing position.

"Brother, what is wrong?" a man's voice asked softly.

He stuttered a quick response as he combed his fingers through his long brown hair. "N-nothing." He made his way to where is brother was sitting: a simple wooden table with a rotting chunk of wood serving as a makeshift seat. "The nightmares never cease, brother." He sat down on a similar piece of wood opposite of his brother. "They never do."

"You should let it go," His brother cooed. "You would have been dead as well if it was not for that priest." He stood up and walked a handful of steps to the fireplace, withdrawing two cups and dipping them into a pot of simmering liquid. He placed one in front of his brother and one in front of his spot before sitting back down.

"And why the priest instead of me? He put down his very life so I could continue on working in these fields for Lord Vigoth!" The man's voice grew from near silence to a roar. "To hope he does not decide to punish me further for not meeting his demands?"

The older brother took a sip of the cup in front of him. "Marcus," he said firmly. "The priest saw something in you that even you don't see in yourself. You are strong, brother. However, you are still just a boy. One day you will understand. Don't be rash; you need not face Lord Vigoth because you said the wrong thing to the wrong person brother."
Marcus smiled and began to drink from his cup. "Yes, Hagias. Do you know when Lord Vigoth will come to collect hi--"

"Brother," Hagias spat. "Please do not tell me you are planning what I think you are?"

"No brother," Marcus responded. "I was just curious."

Hagias shrugged his shoulders. "I do not really know. Some are saying his men will arrive today. Others next week."

Marcus downed the remainder of his cup of broth and stood up. "I'll be in the fields, brother."

"Of course, where else would you be?" Hagias chuckled. "Do not get yourself in a bind with the horses again, brother. Remember last year."

"Silence you goat." Marcus replied as he opened the crude door to the shack.

Hagias shouted his response, "I may be a goat, but at least I didn't get caught by a horse!"

Marcus scanned the surroundings outside his shack. Little had changed from the day before: a large, golden field of grain nearing its ready for harvest gently swaying in the wind. Cattle and horses grazing in spots throughout the village, in patterns and shapes much like the clouds far in the sky above him. Men were working in the field, a few in a blacksmith nearby. A handful of women sat down by a nearby river and children ran wildly throughout the small village.

Marcus made his way down to the fields and quickly went to work plucking weeds and other such unwanted things from the crops.

"Hello Hamah." Marcus said to a blond-haired man that was working a row over.

"Marcus!" The man spoke with a tone of excitement, "Where were you yesterday?"

Marcus replied casually: "I was in town, friend. I had to get some things done."

"Oh?" Hamah spoke with a curious tone. "Glad to see you back. They say Lord Vigoth is coming today to collect this month's levy."

"I heard similar from my brother," Marcus sighed. "Some are saying next week as well. I do not know whose word to trust. We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose." He stood up and scanned around to make sure Vigoth was not coming. Horses in the distance carrying a banner -- a bad omen that Lord Vigoth was indeed coming.

"Perhaps that's them." Marcus lifted his arm and pointed towards the group of armor-clad riders and foot soldiers rapidly approaching.

It was not long before their silent movements became heard. The snorts of their horses, the clatter of hooves and feet against the soft soil of the countryside. The occasional distinct command. The entire village halted, waiting for their rightful landowner to arrive. Soon enough they did, with Lord Vigoth's azure banner fluttering in the breeze.

The majority of the village brought out what meager funding they had to give. They groaned and growled but neither Vigoth nor his men cared.

"They don't care about us," Marcus whispered into his brother's ear. "They just want what little we have." He turned towards the men mounted upon horses and on foot collecting tax. "Why!" He bellowed with all of his might.

Time froze. Even Vigoth himself, whom had been busy talking with an aide, turned. "Boy?" He spoke through his helmet. "What are you rambling about?"

"Why do you tax us so? For your own wealth? Can you not see we are barely able to feed ourselves?" He howled with inhuman quantities of rage.

"Enough!" Vigoth shouted. Several soldiers approached Marcus baring various blunt instruments of warfare. With a single swift blow his world went black.

[Auroran Empire]

OOC: While not mature in material, conservative religious people may be offended by the content therein, consider yourselves warned.

[ PT/FT/Fantasy ]

Fiat Lux

The ever pervading blackness was not unnatural, or natural, or anything at all. It consumed and encompassed all of existence on every possible level. In this eternal blackness there was nothing, nothing existed in the blackness, not even atoms. There was no sense of direction, no feeling of heat or cold; no light, no anything. Just a void of existence that seemed not to exist at all and yet at the same time existed on every possible level.

In this void stirred consciousnesses, one seemed...older, if such a thing was possible; as space did not exist and therefore neither did time, and yet it was older, greater, more pervasive, massive beyond imagining it consumed a great part of this void. The smaller consciousnesses moved in tandem around a small area in this void, an area so small that no naked eye or the strongest telescopic visions could see it, they nurtured it and tended to it this single point in nonexistence.

This gray-silver fluid-like lump of...something yet to be born. The older consciousness looked upon this thing and saw it with ease, examining the properities of it, the perfection and imperfections, tying itself to every aspect of it that would one day be other things of vast complexity, complexity that would never truly be understood by the very complex things that would come of it.

For the moment, or was it eternity, or never?; however it would simply exist there, in the great void of nothing-everything; the natural-unnatural blackness by the will of the consciousnesses that existed within the void, in the great unnatural-natural blackness, the nothing-everything and yet simultaneously existed elsewhere as well, somewhere higher.

Eternity passed, or no time passed at all; or minutes passed; or was it seconds? The gray-silver thing existing in along with the consciousnesses the nothing-everything, everywhere-everywhen. Finally the older consciousness looked down at the infinitivalismally small thing and it uttered two things that would be known as words one day by some form of higher being, or lower being; or no being at all?

"Let there be Light." And a great uttering of sound came forth, though nothing existed to carry the sound, or to hear it even if it was carried. In the next instant, eternity, moment; century; came forth everything and nothing. Time and Space came to be, Matter, Antimatter, Energy and Dark Energy, all of the atoms and nuclei of elements, every element, every bit of kinetic and potential energy that would ever be seen; gravity and expansion.

The older consciousness took note of its work, and it paused; pleased with it, and rested. The younger consciousnesses went to work immediately, shaping the everything, though great, expansive lengths of time would pass before what would later be called The Universe came into proper shape.

"And it was good." ...

[Toops]

[ FT ]

Ghosts in the Machine

Audio static, the ghostly cries of a long silent radio, consumed the dimly lit bridge, red emergency lighting cast horrific shadows, a bloody play, across the bare, sterile walls. In their seats, comfortable, but with taught expressions of sheer angst, were the freshly rotting carcasses of the doomed crew, who knew what fate unimaginable had taken their life from them.
Who knew... The large cruiser was helplessly and unintelligibly drifting through the void, not a celestial partner to accompany the dancing totem on its path. Gasses rose off from the tail end, forming a beautiful arc of colour as the ship span, casting the aura wide, the bridge finally passed through the cloud, effortlessly and unimpeded it continued, displaying the full cyclical motion planned for the eternity of the vessel.
The galaxy is an unimaginably vast place and whatever hopes lay for the restless souls on board they were certainly at peace with not being found, shall they never be remembered, a forgotten group stricken from history by their absence, after all, what was one war vessel, the hallmark of a great empire, amongst the detritus and biology of the galaxy greater.

A blink of light shone from afar, and though no-one was there to witness it, had they been it would have lifted their spirits, for a moment later a small vessel flew past, in an instant it was gone. Contact, however brief, was still a comforting aid in the loneliness.

Had they stranded themselves in a far removed corner of the galaxy the ship and its crew might have avoided the inevitable eyes of a curious species, they scanned the dead and found them wanting, they peered into every recess and every exposed gear, studying, drooling over their fortuitousness.
To some the galaxy is an empty, lifeless void, broken up by the cluster of rocks that creatures profess total ownership and call home, to the Goblins of the Toop Klan the galaxy was their toy-box, and all the lifeless hulks, just another brick in their playhouse.
The brilliantly twisted and broken hulk emerged slowly from a gaseous, choking black portal, in a cloud of thick black smoke and charcoal the lumbering vessel loomed over the cruiser, greedy eyes peering from rusted holes and ill fitting windows, glittering beams of light caressed and fondled the dead ship for a moment, the proverbial hand twitches of a treasure hunter made real.
With great swiftness the Goblins descended, in comical spacesuits designed for backyard play the feral and dishevelled creatures made for their pay-off. Within a brutally quick hour the cruiser had been stripped of its weapons, its engines and its shuttles, made off in scampering glee to smaller vessels broken off from the main hulk.

Batting aside the now helplessly floating bodies the nameless explorers made their way inside, into the ventilation and service ducts and the wide corridors which yawned over the expanse of the vessel.
Rooms were cut away, with savage tools, overcharged blowtorches better described as flame-throwers, rusted axes and picks effective in their savagery. Every memory of the crewmen, their trinkets and personal effects, were scattered and picked through with an unsympathetic eye, photographs of loved ones graffitied, personal computer smashed apart for whatever treats may be contained within, the stiff pockets of the dead turned inside out, leaving even the lint free for the lowliest of Goblins to fight over.

Whatever petty squabbles the salvage members were getting themselves into things remained certain for the hardware which was now drifting around the hulk, all of it, every useful chunk, would find its way bolted, however crudely, to the already eclectic mixed bag of Goblin salvage.
Laser banks were tied onto girders, their wire circuitry bastardised and clobbered until it fit, until everything worked, a few explosions along the way were par for the course and no loss was incurred by a screaming Goblin who got too close.
Panels, liberated from the interior, were slapdash welded onto every surface, covering the exposed elements of the new weapons systems, a grinding hive of activity buzzed about, sparks from infeasible welding torches flew outwards into space, Goblins died and lived in every moment as the pulsating crew sweatily pushed everything into place.
In a final quivering moment, as every new Goblin addition came to life, the Goblins celebrated, relinquished of their joy, elated at the outcome of a hard duty.

The skeletal wreck of the cruiser continued to spiral, now laid to rest, the memories of the haunted crew immolated in a moment, if they could, they would weep, out of despair or relief, their burden was over.

[The Grand World Order]

[ MT ]

The Thousand Yards

Magna Polis; two weeks after the official end of the Magna Polis Uprising

"Me? I saw combat in only two districts and engaged the enemy 319 times. Expended roughly 12,000 rounds. Don't know how many I killed. Three months. 319 dances with death. Nobody should ever have seen the things I've seen- kid, you wouldn't be able to print what I'm saying if I told you," the Federal Guardsman said, watching another "body truck" drive by. The eager young journalist looked away.

"I could tell you the names of most of those people," the Guardsman said. The face under the brim of the helmet was dead; it was like every decent thing in this world had been violently crushed by the titanic boots of war. No, it wasn't like- it was. His eyes seemed to fire an invisible laser straight through the reporter's head. His mouth hung just slightly open, like he couldn't summon the will to close it. Sad, he had a rather masculine, well-defined jaw fit for a recruiting poster.

"One city's been won. At least 40 million human beings are gone."

The reporter finally summoned the courage to at least look at the gendarme's face. Well, his neck, anyways. He glanced back down at his pen and pad, then returned to looking at the man's neck, looking out the top of his glasses. "How does this affect the nation as a whole, in your opinion?"

"Our nation as a whole's got the thousand-mile stare. Even the kids. Especially the kids. You try seeing your mother take a mortar shell directly after waking up without a roof above you," the Guardsman replied before a civilian truck approached the checkpoint. He ignored the reporter and began approaching it.

The multiple blocks of C4 inside of it exploded, and the Guardsman was gone. The Magna Polis Uprising had claimed its 41-millionth victim.

[Rochehaut]

[MT]

Angels of the Sea

There’s a legend told by many fishermen based out of the Rochehautese coast, especially those hailing from the paradisiacal southern coast. It holds that a faithful seafarer never has to worry about his fate. No matter what happens to his boat or to his crew, Our Lady of the Seafarers will always send help to her protected ones. According to the legend, she has a battalion of angels under her command, who are always ready to assist the faithful, winter, spring, summer or fall, all one has to do is call.

Courtland closed his eyes, hoping to wake up from a bad dream, but it didn’t happen. The biting wind relentlessly punished him, as he tried to stay afloat above the gigantic waves of the Central Sea. His trawler got trapped between a large storm front and the continent. The Captain tried to outrun the storm to port, but the small fishing trawler was caught by the large storm before they could even see land. Courtland was fast enough to get himself a life-jacket, but he knew the cold water would quickly claim him. He wasn’t the only one in the water. Six other crewmembers had assembled with him, in an attempt to survive, but they all knew their fate.

Someone suggested they say a prayer…One last prayer. They all closed their eyes and prayed. Each and every men trying to make peace with his destiny, his sins and his vices. Occasionally someone coughed, though, disturbing the strange kind of peace that tends to arrive around a bunch of dying men. Courtland closed his eyes, and waited. For God, for angels, the devil or death, whoever came to take him.

Unbeknownst to the group, however, hope was not lost. In the large dark green ocean waters, a small orange object drifted, a good few meters away from the surviving crew. Every five seconds or so the buoy sent a signal towards a satellite in orbit. It was an automated distress call, triggered by the contact with saltwater. And there was always someone listening.

At the Bastille airbase, or AMIL Bastille, as it was locally identified, there was always at least one aircraft on standby, and one of them would play a crucial role on that day. It was home to part of the Rochehautese fleet of CASA CN-235, specially modified for Search and Rescue duties. Hope 02, registered as R6202 was the aircraft on call for that shift. Once the distress signal reached the Mission Control Centre in Liese, it was a matter of minutes until the crew of Hope 02 was notified. With a set of GPS coordinates on hand, rescue planners had drawn up a search pattern for the missing fishing trawler La Sirène, based out of Lagos, Rochehaut. They were informed about the storm, but nonetheless, within 30 minutes Hope 02 had taken off and was flying high, enroute to the beacon’s location.

Aboard the aircraft, apart from the crew of two pilots and loadmaster, eight trained observers watched through the hatches and rear door for any signs of the missing ship, in concert with three camera operators, which looked through the aircraft’s TV and FLIR cameras. The ship flew low because of the low clouds and the turbulence caused by the strong winds made the rear ramp personnel glad they had their safety harnesses on.

Lightning strikes hit the aircraft occasionally, but it still soldiered on through the storm looking for signs of the crew. The night came, and after a good six hours, no signs of the crew were found and Hope 02 returned home, being replaced by Hope 04 on watch.

Far from there, a small naval squadron composed of two frigates was steaming to the last reported location of the beacon – as it had now ran out of battery and stopped transmitting its cries for help. By then they were already entering the storm front area, reporting sea state 6 – very rough seas. Despite the waves, the rain and the cold, however, the ships kept an increased number of watches posted, looking for the fishing crew.
The storm was now largely stationary, which didn’t make Hope 04’s mission any easier than that of its preceding aircraft. Ten hours had now passed since the first beacon signal reached the Mission Control Centre in Liése. That was when a faint spot showed up on one of the aircraft’s FLIR cameras.

It turned to face and approach the spot, which soon began to blink. It was definitely a multi-spectral strobe. The faint spot slowly began to take shape. First, it was a torso, and then, it become three…then four…five identifiable crewmembers. But were they alive?

The CN-235 descended even further to make a pass above the group, shaking its wings from one side to another, but the FLIR operator did not see any movement. That was a bad sign. The aircraft commander reported their position to the frigate squadron, which was now going at maximum power to the area, and came in for a second low pass, during which the crew dropped a life raft and survival supplies on the water, near the survivors, before the aircraft began circling their position. There were still no signs of activity in the group.

For two hours the crew watched the lifeless bundle, unable to do anything, before they were relieved by another aircraft, and two hours before that, an NH-90 took off from one of the frigates heading for the survivor group. It was windy, and the waves were high enough to cause problems. There was actually a chance the storm would get worse and the helicopter would be unable to land on the frigate, but, as their motto went, they did those things, so “that others may live”. That was their sole purpose, and they knew it. Everyone aboard, from the two pilots, to the crewchief, the two rescue swimmers, the flight physician and the two flight nurses, was a volunteer. They knew what they were getting into. They always knew.

The helicopter arrived on location and turned on its spotlight, shining it at the floating bundle. The co-pilot counted and confirmed the number of survivors – five – while the pilot tried to keep the aircraft on a stable hover, fighting the winds and the turbulence. There was no movement on the surface at all.

“Baseplate, this is Saviour six…We are at the location but, uh…We counted five…five uh…We have no movement down there…Request instructions”, the co-pilot transmitted over the radio.

“Saviour six, be advised…Uh...The weather is looking pretty bad out here…There’s a high risk for anyone getting into the water as well as your ‘ship’…As we have no signs of movement we’ll leave the decision to go up to you guys…Advise”, the garbled voice on the radio said.

The co-pilot looked at the pilot, and then back at the rescue swimmers. They had already opened the door, and simply nodded.

“Swimmers are going in”, the co-pilot said.

Hearing that, the pilot re-positioned his aircraft a bit and one of the swimmers removed his helmet and intercom equipment, replacing them for a diving mask and snorkel. He kept his orange flotation device on, though, just in case, and turned on his strobes, so that the crew could see him from above. He sat on the ledge and waited for one of the high waves to come. Using his hands to hold the mask and snorkel to his face, he threw himself down at the ocean. A thumbs up to the crew and he was swimming towards the group, as the helicopter regained some height. Looking from that angle, it seemed especially scary, as it looked like it could fall upon the swimmer.

Reaching the group, he checked each and every one of them for vital signs as the crew looked down, their hearts pumping with anticipation. The swimmer raised his right hand and shook it from side to side. Someone was alive!

The second swimmer went down in the rescue hoist, and assisted the first one in attaching the men, two by two, to the rescue hoist, only one of them, however, was alive. After hoisting the two swimmers back, the helicopter rushed back to the ships, which had moved to a slightly calmer patch of sea so they could land. The survivor’s heart stopped twice on the way to ships. He was dying, and fast. The flight physician and the nurses were now doing cardiopulmonary resuscitation on him, as the defibrillator wasn’t giving any results anymore. They had little time left.

The helicopter came in fast to land at the frigate. The 4 meter waves were definitely not helping, as they made ship’s pitch vary greatly. The pilot tried a hover landing at first, but had to go around when the helicopter’s rotor blade lightly hit the superstructure due to a wind gust. The patient couldn’t wait, and they knew it. “That others may live” was their motto, and they would honor it, even if it cost their lives. They strapped him onto a gurney and decided to hoist him, supported by one of the swimmers down to the ship. They could figure a way to land later.

The hoistdown wasn’t easy either. With the ship and the helicopter moving so much, it was certainly a trial for the swimmer to remain calm and guide the pilot’s maneuvers to set him down softly onto the deck, but they made it. A group of sailors quickly carried the man inside, into the ship’s sickbay, where he could hopefully be saved.

It was time to set Saviour six down now, or at least to try it. Both the pilot and the co-pilot worked together now, trying to control the helicopter. There was an unusual vibration on the controls, probably due to the scrape on the rotor. They had also lost some torque, which was making the landing quite a difficult procedure. It took the crew three more attempts, but they managed it. They were safe, finally.

The pilot took a sort of necklace, made with blue beads, from one of the rotor brake levers as he finished the secure checklist and kissed it, for good luck, before rejoining the rest of the crew inside the ship. For the crew, it was just another day at the office. For the single survivor, it was a miracle.

“What is your name, sir?” one of the ship’s nurses asked the man, once his conscience returned.

“Courtland…Courtland Boncouer”

To this day Courtland still swears that he saw angels come to take his fellow crewmembers’ souls. According to him, Our Lady herself came upon him and said, “Your time hasn’t come yet, my child…Have faith…Help will come, just stay strong and you will be fine.”

[The Fanboyists]

An Adventure Begins

[FT]

It's hard to say I'll ever like the desert. Pity, seeing as every damn world seems to be covered in sand and bake like an oven.

I've been stuck here for far too long. I am sick of it. But I've put together a space-ship, one that's gonna get me off this hunk of sandstone. And then they'll talk in hushed tones in the pub about Captain Brackett, who got his arse off this damn world and did something with himself.

O' course, that ain't happening if I can't find a freakin' ship's navigator. The thing's so tiny it'll fit pretty much me. So I've been scavenging for weeks now in old wrecks, looking for the remains of a ships' computer, navigation system, anything that might help me get somewhere else without turning myself in to space-dust.

Three hours ago, this one had looked promising. A big old freighter had crashed in the desert. From the way the ship was angled and everything, they'd tried to get to Varnes, the main spaceport on Corborne. I couldn't tell what had forced the emergency landing, but odds were good it had been piracy. The region generally known as the Commonwealth is horribly policed. Shipping usually has to run heavily armed or get plundered to hell.

I had kicked my way through a bulkhead that had been scoured and worn, probably both by gunfire and the elements since the crash. No proper bulkhead should have given out under my boot, that's for sure. But hey, if I questioned every plot-moving coincidence, where would I be?

I'd tied my safety line to a pipe that looked more or less stable. It wasn't going to need to do any supporting; the crash had the benefit of being more or less right-side-up. It was more a guideline to help me find my way back out if I got lost. I pulled my coat closer to me to keep it from snagging on me and went in.

I almost immediately smacked my head on a low-hanging door-frame, reminding me once again that I need to invest in some proper salvaging gear, especially a hard-hat, or I'll be brain-dead by the time I'm thirty. I oriented myself towards where the ship's bridge was supposed to be, and climbed forward cautiously, watching for any more low-hanging plumbing. As I got removed from the sun's light, I pulled out a flash-light, and felt towards another bulkhead, which apparently nobody had bothered to seal. Go me.

---~~~===~~~---

I'm still wondering why I'd gone into that ship. In the desert like this, raiders and bandits will often scout and camp out near wrecks like this to snag unsuspecting scavengers, like your's truely. After about an hour of scavenging, I heard them climbing in after me. So now I've been fighting the bastards off for the last hour.

Don't you love it when your day goes to shit?

I shook my head at the dazed bandit who had slumped to the ground, apparently concussed. I'd given him a door in the face, and he hadn't taken it well. Weeny. I poked my head out of a hatch and was promptly forced to duck to avoid growing a third nostril. I pulled out my pistol and started popping off shots. The perks of gas-cartridges on plasma weapons; you get a lot more than eight shots.

The downside to pistols: your range is still shit. At least the shooting kept their heads down as I tried to scramble back out of the ship to a better position. However, as I was almost out, my boot slipped on a slippery spot, which really fucked my climb up. So much so that I fell back into the ship and promptly fell through a rusted out floor, my overcoat and gloves protecting my otherwise vulnerable arms and hands. I kept my arms in front of my face as I slipped through, landing in a darkened room.

I pulled out my flashlight to make sure I didn't pull a repeat of my fall and to find a way back up. I realized slowly that I was in the ship's old control room; in some of the older ships, the AI cores and guts of the bridge's computers were in a lower room like this one.

Well, call me out on my priorities, but I had come to scavenge, and here was a great opportunity to do some of that. I started rummaging through the guts of the machines as quietly as I could, always with my gun in reach. I didn't need to be caught by surprise if they found me doing this. I did this for what felt like an hour, but I didn't find much usable. Some wires, a couple buttons, small things. I was about ready to give up when something caught my eye.

The ship's computer's main terminal had the port for the ship's AI core. And there was still a core in it. Excited, I pulled out my knife and carefully worked the core out, taking pains not to damage it at all. It took me probably around ten minutes to get the thick cylinder out. It was probably about as big around as a soup can, and about as long as two stacked on one another. It gave off a dull cyan-colored glow. Thinking that would give away my position, I slid it into my bag.

I was wrong. That did not give away my position. The old alarm meant to warn of unauthorized access to that room got me as I forced the door open. A buzzing began throughout the parts of the ship with functioning wiring, and it was loud. Then a helpful little voice added "Intruder in the control room!"

Would it kill the world to let things go in my favor? Just once? It wasn't even a full minute (I think; frankly, time was a blur at that point) when I heard the raiders climbing down through the bilges to find me. I ducked into a side-room, sliding a fresh cartridge into my pistol, praying that this would be enough; it was my last one. I pulled the bulkhead shut behind me, keeping it slightly ajar, so that it looked like it was just in its natural position. The raiders didn't disappoint, thundering past my hiding place like the loudest pack of big ol' predators you ever seen. And lucky me, they didn't even notice my spot. I celebrated silently. Finally, something of a break.

I waited a minute or two before I stuck my head back out and started climbing back up through the ship's lower decks. Minutes passed, and I could see daylight again, even if I wasn't out of harm's way yet. I climbed carefully to the exit hatch, and scanned the distance warily, knowing time was against me; if the raiders came back out, I'd likely be caught on two sides (it seemed pretty likely they'd left a watch on the hatch. I kept looking to the watcher. A few seconds' search didn't disappoint: found him.

The pistol rested on my forearm as I braced against the wall, preparing to run for my life. Silent count in my head. Three...two...one...and I bolted out. The watcher didn't disappoint; he immediately began shooting at me. I raised my left hand, gun in my clutches, and started shooting back. I didn't even bother to look back as I dove onto my motorbike (it's a dinky little piece of shit) and put pedal to the metal, and hoped it would be enough.

Thankfully it was. But the real suprise wasn't 'till I got home and plugged in the AI core into my ship-in-progress's computer.

It whirred to life. I noticed a small nameplate on the core that read "GAR-314B" on it. A blue light illuminated on the ship's "dashboard." And suddenly, after a click, an irritated, metallic voice patched through the console.

"you bastard. why did you wake me up? it was just getting comfortable. who are you, you bastard?"

I eyed the blue light and sighed. "I'm your new boss. Joseph Brackett." I paused for a moment and remembered an important side-note. "Captain Joseph Brackett. Call me Joe, Mister AI."

I could have sworn the blue light looked annoyed. "fuck you." the voice snarled. "you ain't the boss of me," it continued. I shook my head, laughing.

"That's what you think. Now, about your name..." I trailed off, musing about what my ship's AI's name should be.

There was a metallic sigh, and the annoyed voice answered. "i'm boone. you idiot. that's my name. call me 'gars' like that last moron at your own peril, meatbag." I simply shrugged and extended my hand in mock-greeting.

"Pleased to meet you, Boone. Now, I think that it's about time we got out of here."

[Alpenreich]

[ MT ]

Crimes of the Heart

Glowing embers lie dwindling in the fireplace, heating a kettle of tea, but inadequately warming the small hut. An old man sits in a wicker rocking chair, staring at the dying red light of the fire. His hands are shaky and the cold air inside the hut makes him shiver. His shoulders and knees jerk erratically, but his expression remains unchanged; a long-suffering weariness. Deep lines on his face form jagged valleys, worn down by biological aeons of wind and dust and tears. The man sits, waiting for the whistle that will tell him that the tea is ready. There’s nothing for him to say, and even if there was, there’s no one around to listen to him.

Someone knocks at the door. Cold knuckles land three quick blows on the rotten timbers that form the door. The timbers strain against the ropes that hold them together, eventually settling down into quiet resignation as they run out of momentum and inertia takes hold. The man tears his eyes away from the fire and stands up slowly, rubbing his arthritic joints and shuffling slowly to the door. A young woman most likely in her twenties stands on the other side of the door clutching a tape recorder. She’s wearing a gray wool coat, a hat, and a scarf to fend off the elements. A silver pin on her coat’s collar identifies her as a junior official in the civil service, attached to the Ministry of Culture. The old man yanks the door open, and stares at her. An awkward silence floats between them, until the young official hesitantly asks, “Is this the residence of Joseph Thierry?”

“Yes,” is all Thierry has to say at first. “What do you want?” he asks abruptly, not intending to be discourteous. He shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, and stares at his shoes, then looks up at the sky.

The official responds more brightly this time, buoyed by Thierry’s responses. “My name is Anna, and I’m here from the Ministry of Culture. I was wondering if you’d be willing to tell me about any experiences you’ve had in the past, particularly those that pertain to the Last War.” Thierry’s extended silence causes her to become uncomfortable, and she quickly adds “If it’s not too much to ask, of course.”

Thierry stares at his shoes for about a minute, then says “No, I suppose it’s not,” with an air of resignation. “Come on in,” he says, and walks back inside, just as he hears the kettle’s piercing whistle.

/+/

A boy covers his ears and shies away from the edge of the platform as the 5:15 troop train from the Wurtembich Front roars into the station. This time, there are no flags or flowers, no cheering crowds. Instead, refugee families huddle together and weary reservists stare emptily into space. The families all look the same: they speak in hushed voices and have dark circles under their eyes. When the children cry, they cry quietly and are quickly shushed by one of the parents, usually the mother. The soldiers are out of shape Class B and C reservists that only dimly remember their training. They cradle their rifles awkwardly, unsure whether of or not they are actually soldiers.

The train jerks to a halt, and the conductors run around opening the train’s doors. Medics are the first ones onto the platform, easily identified by the red crosses on their helmets and their red armbands. They help all manner of wounded troops off of the train. The number of ways a man can be wounded in combat is extraordinary. The shrapnel and gunshot victims limp along on crutches or lie on stretchers. Those who have suffered gas attacks have to be guided through the station, each blindly holding onto the belt of the man in front of him. Joseph shrinks away from the hideous burns on the skin of the men who had been gassed, repulsed by the wretched humans he witnesses before him. Joseph wonders how these…animals, are considered people. Human maybe, but surely these wretches were not people.

Thierry sits down in his wicker chair, and waits for Anna to enter. Once she is standing in his living room, he points at the worn chair in the corner and motions for her to sit. He offers to tell her an inane story, something harmless. His expression appears unchanged, but guilt tears away at him inside. His heart points an accusatory finger at itself, never to be satisfied with his explanations.

[Equitador]

Equitador has always been a proud nation, controlled by an autocratic ruler with full control. It's warriors are stealthy and extremely well trained, doing whatever it takes to get the job done. In the 1960's democracy and the Western way of life reached reached Equitador and a democratic plague swept the land. The nation was renamed Equita and began holding elections. Slowly all that remained of Equitador began to dissappear, then in 1995 a bloody civil war erupted, led by President Fita Ivgor and the leader of the rebel faction, Favar Greded.
When the smoke cleared, the rebellion had succeeded. An autocratic system of Councils was put in place, and at the top was The Highest Council of The Commonwealth of Equitador which was headed by a General Secretary who holds absolute power and final say over the Council. The rebellion saw the reinstatement of all the old ways.

[Romanium Imperium]

This is based on my original alternate-history, not my NS.

[ PT ]

Descendants of Athens, Sparta and...Rome?

The Second Great World War
Imperium Romanum

In the West, someone spoke of reviving Rome. As though she had died? Someone spoke at length of national unity and comparisons to greatness they could not begin to live up to. They spoke of reviving their great legacy...Them, entitled to Rome. That was laughable in and of itself; Italians, Romans? No, not now, not ever; not since the days of Romulus; the first one. They were Germanians, Franks, Iberians, Ostrogoths...

The long term puppets of everyone around them, and they dared...They DARED to claim the legacy of Rome; which had never died? Which was preserved here in the East; immortal, undying, for over five thousand years, who fought off Huns, Mongols, Germans and Turks, who fought off Arabs and Persians, who fought off every type of assault imaginable, who had stopped the so called righteous crusaders in their tracks...And Italians dared to say that was theirs?

But that was not the breaking point for the Imperium Romanum, it took far more than mere words to bring Romans to a boil. When the Italians landed in Albania they took a dangerous first step, they interceded into the domain of Rome, while not officially the rulers there of, their influence was considerable, and it had not pleased Caesar. But even that had not gotten Rome to war; as when Rome went to war, the world remembered to tremble. The Italians crossed into norther Hellas on the twenty eighth of September, nineteen forty.

It was the last mistake the "New Roman Empire" would ever make.

Roman and Italian troops did not fight to a strategic gridlock; in December of nineteen forty the Roman Legions pushed into Albania, and the world once more knew what it was to see Romans at war. The Italians, facing the storm now battered and torn fought in retreat across Albania with the whips of their masters behind them, and then came the death sentence of any idea of them being 'Romans'. The Germans reinforced the Italians on the twenty third of April, nineteen forty one.

Initially, the Romans were pushed back until they held the line in the mountains of Hellas, not one foot further, did Caesar boldly cry from his stance in Constantinople; the new center of the world. Bulgaria found themselves held in their own mountains by Legions from Byzantium; and for some diluded reason, the British came galavanting in to reinforce the Romans, not that they complained, more for the Germanians to shoot at that wasn't Roman.

And that's how the Second Great War began for Rome.

[Xiscapia]

[FT]

[Very Mature]

An Interview With The Soldier

For this interview we have Commander Sakaki of the Kitsune Imperial Navy, an Ascian elite special forces scout operating out of Chalybs System Survey Command (SURCOM). The Commander is a decorated war veteran who is also known for being one of the prime players in the hunt for Sennai Marine Kunai Skylera and for her involvement in stopping the Blacklight Crisis. She has generously taken time out of her leave to speak with us today. This interview was recorded Year of Our Lord Emperor Foxfire Rose 25, Death of the Ice Season, on the SSA world of Kenzoku. Commander Sakaki has sworn on her honor to answer all of our questions as honestly and completely as possible. As usual, our questions are tinted red, while her answers are blue.

Thank you for joining us, Commander. Shall we begin?

Go ahead.

_______________________________________________________

What about you is heroic?

My courage. Such is demanded of every member of the Kitsune Imperial Military, my branch especially. Valor is a basic tenet of heroism.

What about you is social? What do you like about people?

I don't actually tend towards sociability. Ascian training and deployment will do that to you. Sometimes the only ones who really understand are other Ascians, and there aren't very many of us. But they generally represent what I find admirable in people, have virtues like loyalty, integrity, selflessness and honor. As long as we hold on to our sense of morality then we can call ourselves people. When we lose that, we become little more than intelligent animals.

Of what benefit could you be to an adventuring group?

Hypothetically, quite a lot. My list of skills is longer than most. I can pilot, repair and sabotage most Xiscapian ground, aerial, aquatic and starcraft, and quite a few foreign types. Ascian training gives me proficiency with more categories of small arms, blades and explosives than most people have ever even heard of. Stealth, hand-to-hand combat, surviving in hostile environments, reconnaissance, xenolinguistics, space combat, espionage and assassination techniques, interrogation methods, security formation...the list goes on.

Realistically, though, I doubt I would ever join such a group. "Adventurers" is usually a euphemism for "mercenaries" and I don't typically fight for money. I pulled a stint as a private contractor once. Didn't really like it. Can't trust anyone in that field.

Have you ever been a part of a closely-knit group that isn't your family, like a ship's crew or military unit?

Of course. I've integrated myself with various Ascian squads over the years. I'd also count the team I was in during the Blacklight Crisis among them. It was FUBAR, that was back when I was partnering with Kunai as a mercenary so at various times you had the two of us, a colorful unit of Imperial Intelligence Department spooks, a couple of Setulanite Military Police officers, a half dozen Sen internal agents, a local police captain, a prostitute, even one of the Founders got in on it. Like I said, a real clusterfuck.

We worked nominally well together, though, and we all pretty much liked each other by the end. That's what's important.

What kind of contract or operation could you see yourself actively undertaking, as opposed to tagging along or just following orders?

Any one to end a threat to the Kitsune Empire. I have taken the initiative on things I thought were dangerous to the existence of the Motherland before, and I tend to be right. It never turns out well for the things in question.

_______________________________________________________

Now I will ask you a series of personal questions.

Very well.

What is your real, birth name? What name do you use?

My true name is Sakaki Hara. I only use Sakaki, in accordance with tradition.

Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it?

I get "The Commander" or just "Commander" a lot from my troops. Sometimes I think they don't even know my name. Otherwise I've had Sak, Saka, Saki, just about any abbreviation or combination you can make out of those six letters. Easier to say. Sometimes new recruits make that mistake. It's never more than once.

Describe yourself in your own words. Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features.

Height: Five foot two. Weight: One hundred forty eight pounds. Hair: Black. Eyes: Yellow. Fur: Black. Apparent Age: Thirty. Distinguishing Features: Close-cut hair, deep scar curving across collarbone, white ring at the tip of the tail, piercing holes in the right ear, long claws. Not very imaginative, but it gets the job done.

How do you dress most of the time?

Most of the time I'm in Ascian armor. I even wear it off-duty when I'm still on the base, I just feel more comfortable it in. Out in society I'll usually wear fatigues or a tank top, cargo pants and boots. Nothing fancy.

How do you "dress up?"

My dress uniform is my armor, buffed and polished. Military doesn't really believe in that sort of thing otherwise. I have a few nice tunics and robes, but I don't wear them much. Don't usually have cause for it. Like my suit better anyway.

How do you "dress down?"

Sweat pants. Emperor's gift to anyone who likes to feel comfortable. Don't give me that look. If I'm feeling real casual, just a wrap with that. I don't need anything else.

What do you wear when you go to sleep?

Depends. If I expect to be scrambled or attacked I just sleep in my armor, it's not bad. Otherwise I sleep naked. Have ever since I was a kit, doesn't feel right otherwise.

Do you wear any jewelry?

My dog tags are the closest thing. I used to have some tail bindings, but I got rid of them after I joined up.

In your opinion, what is your best feature?

My cybernetics. I literally could not survive without them. They give me much of my strength, speed, clarity, stamina, pain tolerance and regenerative abilities. Even if I could, I wouldn't trade them for the best looks in the universe. Augments are what lets me beat the crap out of the big boys.

What's your real birth date?

Year Of Our Lord Emperor Meiji 289, Death of the Ice Season.

Where do you live? Describe it: Is it messy, neat, avant-garde, sparse, etc.?

I own an apartment on the Algidus in the Chalybs System. It's almost empty because I'm never there, I usually prefer to bunk on SURCOM station and when I'm not there I'm in some other system entirely. I think the entirety of the furnishings in there consist of a bed, a dresser, a desk, two lamps, a holo-screen, a refrigerator, a couch and a couple of chairs. Don't even think I have a table. It's all in one corner, too. Now that I think about it, I really should try to do something with the place...

Do you own a car, ship or other mode of transportation? Describe it.

I don't technically own the Muros, she belongs to the Kitsune Imperial Navy, but I still consider her mine. She's my assigned vessel, a Twilight class scout ship, basically a suite of electronics with a gravitic propulsion drive strapped to it. Very good at what she does, which is surveillance and covert reconnaissance. Fast and agile, too. Very good ship, never let me down.

What is your most prized mundane possession? Why do you value it so much?

My IMP-4. That's Imperial-4 Anti-Materiel rifle. 12.7 caliber, three klick effective range at nine klicks per second, penetrates up to twenty five millimeters of armor, can liquefy a hostile foot mobile's internals in a single shot. My nickname for it is the Blood Boiler, because of the .32 megajoule energy sheath that encases the slug. Superheats it over 4,500 degrees F, so even if the armor defeats it initially it just burns through anyway. It's saved my life before. I love that fucking gun.

What one word best describes you?

Confident.

_______________________________________________________

Now, about your family...

Fire away.

What was your family like?

Demanding. They knew I had talent, and they drove me very hard for it. Every time I failed or gave up, I wasn't just hurting myself, I was hurting them and squandering their efforts to raise me. So I didn't fail or give up. They had certain expectations of me as a member of the family. When I was still in school I made my contributions around the house, even if it was just as simple as cooking a meal for my father or massaging my mother's sore muscles. Once I reached working age, I put a certain percentage of my pay into my own upkeep in their household. They prepared me for my job today.

Who was your father, and what was he like?

My father is a very big man, for a kitsune. Gray-furred, eyes like molten steel, hardly ever laughed or smiled. Very intense. He was a fighter pilot during the Korr Wars, started out as a common airman and got all the way up to Squadron Leader by the end of it. Killed a lot of people, and saw a lot of people die. He didn't talk about it much, except when he got drunk. Sometimes he would brag about all the Korr he bombed, tell us tales of the warships he shattered...and sometimes he'd just sit there and mutter the names of the people he knew, turning his service pistol over and over in his hands. They're all dead now, except him.

He wanted me to join the KIN. As soon as he knew I was considering service as my route to citizenship, that's what he pushed. I didn't understand it then, but now I think that there's something he wants me to do. Something he couldn't, or didn't get to. It's not even a case of living vicariously...I think, somewhere along the line, he failed to save his friends. But he wants me to save mine. To prove that it can be done, I guess. That all his efforts weren't just a waste.

Who was your mother, and what was she like?

A spitfire, like a lot of vixens. Little brown-furred girl in the Imperial Marines before she could legally get fucked on most worlds. My father was in the KIN because he got conscripted, but my mother joined because she wanted to kill Korr. I'm pretty sure she invented some of the slurs that got used against them. Always was the type who'd swear at you as fast as she'd say hello.

Father stayed in the service after the War ended because he had to; mother couldn't do it anymore. He got through it unscathed, crashed a couple times, got a broken bone or two, but you can't tell from looking at him. Mother looks like she went swimming in a sea of needles. She has scars everywhere, and I mean everywhere; I've seen her naked. It was never ugly to me, I just thought it was interesting when I was a little kit, I'd touch the end of one and trace it all the way across her body to the other side. They're not red, like on human skin, see, they're white, because that's the color old scars make against fur, so they actually look rather pretty if you don't know what they are.

After the War she worked part-time as a Customs officer, but she was pretty much retired. She'd come home in need of a back rub because her wounds had been getting at her again, and sometimes Father wouldn't be home so I'd do it. Every time she'd tell me where a different scar came from. This one from a piece of burning shrapnel that bounced off her friend's helmet and lodged itself in her thigh, that one from a flamethrower that pushed right through her shields and welded a piece of armor to her side, the other from a bayonet slash across the snout. She was proud of them.

"These are where the universe tried to break me, and now I am strong in the broken places," she would tell me in that saying common among our people. Then she'd point to the scars on her belly where they had to take me out when it was time for me to be born so I wouldn't kill her in the process. "It's lucky there was enough of me left to have you. But there's the evidence. You're my favorite scar."

What was your parent's marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married?

Married in the Xiscapian sense. I can't remember if they were bound during or after the War. They had their disagreements once in a while, usually after my father got really deep into his bottle. Then my mother would wrestle him to the floor and sit on him until he sobered up or passed out. I used to get scared about it when I was a kit, but they never seriously hurt each other. I get the impression that neither mind it much, Father knows he needs someone to keep him in line and Mother likes being the one to do it. They're bound to this day.

What were your siblings names? What were they like?

I never had any siblings. Mother almost died giving birth to me, so no one was all that keen on risking us trying again.

Would you have liked to have siblings?

Sometimes I think it would have been nice. I remember thinking as a kit that I would have given a lot for some help with my chores, and sometimes I wished I wasn't the center of my parent's attention. I got less concerned about those things as I got older. It is interesting to think about, though.

When's the last time you saw any member of your family? Where are they now?

I went to visit them a couple of months ago while on leave. They're still on Space Station Protector, though they've managed to upgrade their housing to a nicer apartment than the one I grew up in. Now that they're both retired and don't have me to raise and Academy to pay for they're doing pretty well for themselves. KIN pensions pay rather well.

Did you ever meet any other family members? Who were they? What did you think of them?

I've met both sets of grandparents. I can see where my father gets his attitude from, his father was exactly like him, although he was a miner, not a pilot. My mother's parents were...interesting. Apparently her mother was a pleasure vixen and her father was a client who ended up becoming bound with her. They all died a while ago now. I've got a few cousins out there too, but I've only met them a few times.

_______________________________________________________

Childhood questions, if you would.

As you wish.

What is your first memory?

My father holding onto my arms as he taught me how to walk. I remember him saying I had to stick my tail out because I got better balance that way, and he grabbed it and pulled it out behind me. I had to get from one end of the mat to the other. It took a while, and I fell down a lot, but eventually I made it. He ran over and picked me up and spun me all around. I don't remember if he was laughing or if I was but one of us started and it caught on the other. It's one of the only times I remember him like that.

What was your favorite toy?

I got a light blaster, I think it was a gift from my parents. Shoots these harmless bolts of red light that splatter on whatever surface they hit, a kit's toy. I loved that thing. Some of my friends had them and we'd go running through the station playing Korr and Xiscapians, or Imperials vs. Pirates, or whatever the game of the day was. I was good at it, the best shot in the group. Of course sometimes we'd wander into a restricted area or annoy some of the guards and security would come and chase us off, but it was fun all the same. I held onto that blaster for a long time, I think it only got sold when my parents got rid of it.

What was your favorite game?

I don't know if you'd really call it a game, but once in a while my father would take me out in one of those old Howl bombers the station kept around in the mothball hangers. He'd pilot it out into the debris part of the asteroid field, where all the useless rock from mining gets put, and designate targets for me to "kill." We ever got to do it with live ammunition because shells and energy cells for those older models are cheap and he knew some of the guys on the station. What really got me excited was when he got the ship modified so I could pilot it and he coached me through my first lessons. He was trying to get me hooked on combat piloting, I know, but he sure succeeded.

Any non-family member adults stick out in your mind? Who were they, and how did you know them? Why do they stick out?

I did get to be friends with one of the Customs troopers on the station. He knew my mom, so I think he was keeping an eye on me for her, but I didn't mind. If we ever started trying to get into a compartment we weren't supposed to or pestering another guard he'd show up. "Go on, get out of here, you damn kits," he'd growl with a wink, and make a show of chasing us down the hall. Nocks was his name.

Those times we were allowed into the hangers, or when we sneaked in, there was this ultralight hauler pilot named Yagazumi. She had a little Starstreak transport called the Rambunctious Rascal, moving supplies around the system for moon outposts and the like. While she was docked and doing maintenance she'd let us explore the ship, show us the controls, run around the cargo bay. It never got old because she was always making upgrades and modifications, and she was always carrying something different. With her ship and friendly attitude I'm willing to bet that she was the one who inspired more than a few of us to be pilots.

Who was your best friend when you were growing up?

Iyazaki. He was another kit my age, very clever in most things. Whenever it came down to just the two of us in a game, he tended to beat me as often as I beat him. It was a bit of a rivalry, I admit, but we got along well and when we weren't competing we were conspiring. He had a funny way of looking at things, where you or I might think in straight lines he'd think in zig-zags, see things other people don't. It made him fun. He went planet-side when he got older, and I never saw him again. I think he's an artist or something now.

What is your fondest childhood memory?

After a good game, or running through the corridors away from station security -sometimes it was the same thing- going to one of the cafeterias on the station, getting some food and just watching everything go by. On one side we'd have a hologram display hooked up to one of the exterior cameras showing the ships as they came and left, and on the other side we could watch all the people come and go. It was really fun after trade started up properly with other nations and we got aliens coming in. We'd talk about the stuff we'd seen recently, and what we wanted to do when we got older. There was good feeling there, eating and watching all the cool ship and weird people go by.

What is your worst childhood memory?

I got infected with a virus that was going around the station when I was still a kit. It wasn't all that severe for most, but because I was young it hit me hard. Vomiting, diarrhea, delirium, fever, congestion, migraines, you name it, I had it. Not only did I feel horrible, but my parents had to stick around to take care of me, which made me feel so useless because I wasn't doing anything for them and I knew they were missing work for me. Even then I didn't like to be unproductive, even if I didn't actually do much. I got better eventually, but that memory stuck with me. It was my first real hardship.

_______________________________________________________

Now I have some questions about your adolescence.

Proceed.

How old were you when you went on your first date?

I was fourteen, I believe. I don't know if I'd count it as a date, because it was with Iyazaki. He'd always liked males more. But we did the usual thing, although it wasn't that different from what we normally did, just without any of our other friends. It was alright, but I don't think either of us were interested in each other in that way.

It is common for one's view of authority to develop in their adolescent years. What is your view of authority, and what event most affected it?

My parents always drilled a respect for authority into me. You follow orders, you obey the instructions of your superiors, you get the job done. That's how things work in society, and it's a good system. I've been on both ends. If both sides know what they're doing, everything goes smoothly.

What really set things for me was when I joined the Imperial Military Pupil School (IMPS) program. Your teacher there is a drill instructor, the Sergeant. I'd already gotten a taste of how the military did things from my parents, but he really homed in on it. Made us sharp, made us smart, made us proud. I realized it then, that if the people above you know what they're doing, you damn well better listen to them.

What were you like in high school? What "clique" did you best fit in with?

Those of us in IMPS sort of formed our own group. Ate lunch together, hung out after classes, got close because of the program. I was around in a few of the other circles too, I had friends on the Khong team because I played there for a couple years, and I had some friends in honors because I was an honors student too. But I always came back to IMPS. We'd spend hours going over military news, talking about the more famous soldiers and captains, wondering what branch and specialty we wanted to go into if or when we joined. We were an ambitious bunch.

What were your high school goals?

To graduate with great enough honors to get into one of the Imperial Academies for officers. That's how you become a commander in the Army or Imperial Marines, or a captain in the Navy...or an Ascian. I'm happy to say that I did, and so did most of us in IMPS. Got accepted into the general KIN Academy, and selected for Ascian training. The rest is history.

Who was your idol when you were growing up? Who did you first fantasize about in your life?

My idol was definitely my father. He'd done so much for me, and he gave me all the support he could when I joined IMPS and started aiming for Academy. I guess you could say he engineered it that way, but I was and am okay with that. I very badly wanted to make him proud of me. I succeeded.

Fantasize...well, there's more than one meaning to that word, isn't there? I sometimes wondered what it was like to be the Emperor. He's famous for the times he went undercover during the War just to watch his troops fight. I didn't think about him sexually, though. He's attractive enough, I suppose, I just didn't think like that. I liked the idea that if I went into battle he might be there supporting me in flesh as well as spirit, though.

Sexually, I sometimes fantasized about Yagazumi. It wasn't so much her looks as it was her attitude. And that cheeky grin of hers. I never acted on it, though. She'd moved on to a different system by the time I got to high school.

What is your favorite memory from adolescence?

The day I graduated high school. I came out with honors, and on the same day I got my acceptance message from Academy. I don't think I'd ever seen my parents so happy, especially my father. They treated me that day, anything I wanted. The whole universe was spread before me, I felt like I could do anything. I couldn't, of course, not really, I already had my course laid out. But that was the feeling, and it was good.

What is your worst memory from adolescence?

At one point as a freshman I was on break with a friend of mine from IMPS, a cute vixen named Azuma; she used to run in our old "gang" as kits. We were wandering around the station, looking for something to do, we were long past the the stage where we ran around annoying guards and crawling around freighters, but not quite out of the whole breaking into places thing. We passed an airlock entry hatch when she got the bright idea of seeing what it was like on the outside of the station. We'd both been out there before, but only in ships, the only people who go out in suits are maintenance workers and maybe the odd Imperial Marine squad on patrol. I wasn't sure about it, but she convinced me it wouldn't hurt so I got us in and we found a few hard suits in an unattended rack.

Figuring out how to get into them was nerve-wracking. We were both scared someone was going to come and find us, so we got in as fast as we could, threw our clothes into a closet and got outside. Unfortunately what we didn't realize was that we'd taken suits from a rack that was recharging them, so mine was only about a quarter full of oxygen and hers had about half energy for its thrust pack. Neither of us knew until we'd gotten a good distance away, doing flips and climbing sheer parts of the station, when an alarm in my suit alerted me. We both kept frosty, figured we'd just abort mission and head back. It wasn't that easy.

As I started to turn I got my foot caught in some sort of vent. I wasn't inexperienced in operating in zero-gravity, that's what Khong is all about, but it's one thing to have a clear, safe, air-filled room to play in and another to be out, almost alone in the vacuum of space against a ticking clock. I panicked, and in trying to get my foot free I used up even more of my oxygen. Azuma tried to help me but she burned nearly all of her thrust trying to do it, and by the time she realized she wasn't going to have enough left to get help it was too late. I only had minutes of air left, and she didn't have the energy to get back to the airlock.

I probably would have died if she didn't bite the bullet and use the short-range vox to call for help. It was a long shot, but it actually registered on the network of a remote probe nearby and security got a team out just in time. I don't remember them coming and taking me, she was screaming at me to stay awake but I was busy choking and spitting into my helmet. The first thing I remember after passing out was waking up in a bed in the station's medical ward. Apparently I'd blacked out and they had to cut me out of the suit to get oxygen into me. I was lucky I didn't suffer any permanent damage.

Azuma was fine, and so was I...all that got hurt was our pride, and the station's suit that I took for a joyride, which had to be scrapped. Of course my parents found out. I'd never seen my father so angry. He took a switch to me so hard I would have called in sick if he hadn't made me go to school. I spent almost all of my money the rest of the year paying my parents back for the penalties the station gave them over the suit. I guess I'm just lucky they didn't make me pay the hospital bill too. It was completely humiliating.

_______________________________________________________

If you are able, I have some questions about your work.

I'll tell you what's not classified.

Do you have a job? What is it? Do you like it? If no job, where does your money come from?

I am employed by the Kitsune Empire as part of a đặc công, or special task force, known as the Ascians. We are the elite special forces of the Kitsune Imperial Military. There are a number of different branches Ascians can go into, with associated fields and specialties, but my primary role is as a strategic scout and for tactical reconnaissance. I also handle special operations, alone, as a part of combined Ascian teams and deployed with Imperial regulars, usually related to quick, short-duration offensive strikes aimed at affecting specific targets or objectives. I also handle other tasks, but I can't talk about those.

I enjoy my job. The places I've seen, people I've met and things I've done just wouldn't be possible without it. The pay is good, it's one of the most prestigious routes to citizenship, and I help the Motherland to boot. What's not to like?
Oh, and the whole killing enemies of the state thing can be very satisfying too.

What is your boss or employer like? (Or publisher, or agent, or whatever)

I have different bosses at different levels, and at different times. You could argue that my boss is the Emperor, or the Grand Admiral. Closer to me, I do have superior officers, but they change based on assignment. The closest thing I have to a consistent superior is Commander Niwa, who's in charge of the SURCOM station in Chalybs. Let's go with her.

She's quite the character. Reminds me of my mother a bit, she's fiery, incredibly loyal and fierce in combat. When I went missing while hunting for Kunai Skylera she took a shuttle with herself, a pilot and her lieutenant out to find me because she was the only one who believed me when I contacted her. Didn't miss a beat when combat started either, joined right in and...well, I can't talk about what she did afterwards. Quite remarkable though, I hope it gets declassified someday. Most recently, though, when the solarians attacked SURCOM during their invasion she jumped out of bed, grabbed an autocannon and killed half a dozen of them in one sweep. Don't mess with her.

Lucky that she likes me that much. Calls me her favorite spook. She'll run you hard and put you up wet, but there's nothing she won't do for you. And she knows what she's doing. That's what really matters.

What are your co-workers like? Do you get along with them? Any in particular? Which ones don't you get along with?

The thing with co-workers is like with bosses -it changes a lot. I'll say that I had a number of changes to work alongside Kunai Skylera, after I found her during the fiasco when she went missing, when I joined her for mercenary work afterwards to help her get back on her feet and during the Great Patriotic War. She was a SSA Marine by choice, although she got drafted into the MANTIS program during that -sort of like the SSA's all-female version of the Ascians. Very good at what she does, and I enjoyed her sense of humor. As far as I know she's still working as a mercenary now.

At Chalybs SURCOM there's a few other Ascians. We used to have a vixen named Takino, although she moved on soon enough. Nice girl, got up to a lot during the Danaversian War. They say she was raped. It wouldn't surprise me. I was sorry to see her go, but I hear she's been doing amazing things on someplace called Earth. Then there's another scout pilot like me called Kondo. Quiet, brooding even, doesn't get out much anymore. Had a run-in with the Rethast a few years back that really shook him up. Hasn't been the same since. The guy that gets on my nerves, though, is Akwia. Discovers one system full of minerals and names it after himself. I understand when admirals do it, but he was just a pilot. So damn full of himself. At least Kawachi had a good reason for doing it -he fought off a whole Confed fleet with nothing but his scout, a bunch of jury-rigged remote warships and his own wits. Good thing he's there to balance the bastard out.

What is something you had to learn that you hated?

Wilderness survival. I was born and raised on a space station, didn't go planet side that much. So basic comes and suddenly they thrust me out into the forest to teach me how to live off the land. And they did that for most every environment. Crawling naked through the mud, picking sand out of every orifice, huddling in an igloo, building a treehouse, poking around caves to make sure there aren't any predators around to bite my head off, you name it. And the things they expected me to eat. Horrible. I can do it, but I don't like it. Give me the climate controlled insides of a starship and processed food and recycled oxygen any day.

Do you tend to save or spend your money? Why?

I mostly save my money. I like to think I have good financial sense, but the fact is that I don't have much to spend it on. All my needs and most of my wants are supplied or subsidized by the KIN, and the difference I spend is insignificant. So I save because that's what I was taught to do. Supposedly I'll retire someday.
But not for a while.

[Continued on next page]

[Xiscapia]

[FT]

[Very Mature]

An Interview With The Soldier (Continued)

_______________________________________________________

Time to quiz you on some of your personal likes and dislikes.

Copy that.

What hobbies do you have?

I do enjoy going down to the range and getting in some target practice. That's how you become a good sniper, and keep being a good sniper, as opposed to a corpse. It's not a case of practice makes perfect, it's a case of perfect practice makes perfect. But there's still something viscerally satisfying about putting a bullet right where you want it, and knowing that if your target was a hostile it would be dead. Nothing like it.

Apart from that, I've always been partial to Khong. It's one of those games that can be really unpredictable, and that's what makes it fun. Then after it's all done you can just float there for a while and get your breath back. We played it a lot both in Basic and at the Academy, and most of those I know in the service still do. It's like extended zero-g training disguised as a game.

Who is your closest friend? Describe them and how you relate to them.

Probably Kunai Skylera. We've been through a lot together, and she's been a good friend to me. I don't go on a leave of absence and take up mercenary work for just anyone, you know. But I did it for her, after she got discharged from the Sen Marines and was trying to get her act back together. She repaid the favor by saving my life more times than I care to count.

She's got a sense of humor I lack. I admit it, I'm not a funny person, and I don't joke around much. She's got an attitude that gives a bit of color to our partnership. I'm glad for it. Of course, she comes with some...baggage, but we'll get into that later. Overall she's a good person that I'm glad to have met. Makes my life a bit more interesting than I'd like it sometimes, but I wouldn't trade her for anybody else.

Who is your worst enemy? Describe them and why you don't get along.

I've got people out there I don't especially like, but it would be a stretch to call them my enemy. My worst personal enemy isn't so much a single person as it is an organization. They call themselves Sector Six, and to the best of my estimation they're a paramilitary, quasi-governmental, semi-legal entity connected with the Sen that makes it its job to take down anything viewed as a threat to the SSA, quickly and discreetly. At one point Kunai and I fell into that category, along with her family, and that it only took a few dozen of their armored goons dying for them to figure out that attacking us was a really bad idea. They've not bothered us since, but I know they're still out there, and I wouldn't put it past them to try again at some point. You can be sure they picked up a copy of this interview somewhere for their records, if they're not somehow already listening in. They make it their business to know everything.

What bands do you like? Do you even pay attention?

I can't say I do pay much attention to most modern music. I've always preferred softer classical movements and sonatas. So the bands I like are all long-dead composers and full orchestras, like Bokuseiinmonzeninari and the Muros Quartet. Yeah, I named my ship after them.

What tape or CD hasn't left your player since your purchased it? Why?

The Dread Orchestra has been on loop for a few weeks now. It's a series of patriotic chants, marching songs and war ballads put together by a bunch of Kitsune Imperial Military veterans in cooperation with the Imperial Black Orchestra. I got it for free as a service member, and I haven't been able to stop listening since. It's great for those lonely patrols and long survey flights. Love it.

What song is "your song?" Why?

Lux Aeterna, by Clint Mansell. The name means "eternal light." It's emotional and calming at the same time.

What's been your favorite movie of all time?

Seize the Night. It's a documentary about Ascians during the Korr Wars, some of the soldiers involved, operations, impact on the war, that sort of thing. I watched it all the time as a child and into my teens. They made a fictional account based off true events into a action movie a few years back, that wasn't bad either. The vixen they had as the lead officer was lovely.

Read any good books? What were they?

Alversian Dreadnoughts. Kash Wilson: The Psychopathic God. The False Rebellion. Genko's March to the Sea. The first is about the Alversian capital ships and how they affected the Korr Wars and influenced the next generation of Imperial Navy warships. Psychopathic God details pretty much everything about Kash Wilson, concentrating on his rule as dictator over the new Universal Government and Xiscapian relations with it. False Rebellion has to do with the operation by the Imperial Intelligence Department that fooled the Greali into funding the Berrax rebellion, eventually assisting in the liberation of Nova Max. March to the Sea is the most recent one, a group of accounts from soldiers in General Genko's Shock Army and the slave's they freed when they cut a swath of destruction from the LZ all the way to the ocean on Ranus V. I'm a bit of a history buff, especially when it comes to military history. It was my favorite subject in school and at Academy.

What do you watch on the Television?

The news, both domestic and international. Imperial News Network, International Incidents Today, AXIS Broadcasting, etc. I like to know what's going on in this galaxy and the Home Galaxy. Other than that, not much. Don't have the time or the interest for most of the "entertaining" shows.

When it comes to politics, do you care? If so, which way do you tend to vote? If not, why don't you care?

I believe the current Imperial Family is the best the Kitsune Empire has had in a long time. Emperor Rose is well loved by both our people and abroad, and for good reason. He guided the policy that broke the Korr War stalemate, opened trade with other nations, brought business back to Xiscapia, expanded Imperial borders tenfold, advanced technology, you name it. I don't anticipate having to vote in my lifetime, but if I did I would keep as much of the government intact as it is now. They're good people. Internationally I can't say I approve of all the nations and organizations that the Kitsune Empire does business and cooperates with, but that's not within my power to change.

At least, not in the usual way.

What type of places do you hang out in with your friends?

Kunai really likes spas. I don't blame her; it's nice to feel clean and taken care of after a nasty op. They're not really my thing, though, I like to do my own cleaning. I go to the bathhouse a lot. Otherwise you can find me at the gym, in the training V.R. on base and under the Khong domes.

What annoys you more than anything else?

People who don't know what they're doing. Incompetence, basically. You have a job to do, so take responsibility and do it. I guess it comes with the training. You get high standards, expectations of people, especially those in the force, that they aren't always able to fulfill. It's a little disappointing.

What would be the perfect gift for you?

The Muros. I would love to own her myself. It's impossible, of course, the KIN wouldn't let me buy her even if I did have the money, I was lucky that they lent me use of her during my leave. It's nothing but an idle dream anyway. Everything else I either get through my service, or I earn myself.

What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?

A fleet of warships in formation. It's not conventionally beautiful, in the way that a painting or attractive vixen or even -ugh- a snapshot of nature would be, but it has its own harsh beauty. The same way you could consider a finely crafted sword a piece of art, I think you can consider a task force a piece of art. Millions of people had to work together to put it there, to make it work, to keep it running, with no less care than an artist would make brush strokes or render on a computer. When there's a pirate hunting squadron outgoing from Chalybs I always watch it go if I can.

What time of day is your favorite?

We don't usually experience night and day on stations or ships like you do on worlds, but I still prefer the late night. I'm speaking of the very early morning really, three, four o'clock, when most have gone to bed but few have gotten up yet. If you're preforming a operation, that's the sweet spot when you want to hit them.

What kind of weather is your favorite?

Stormy, especially the kind with high winds and sand or snow. If you're moving on a position the sentries are going to be a lot less alert than usual, if they're present at all. They'll be more likely to rely on sensors and drones to watch for them, and they can be fooled. Otherwise, weather isn't a factor in space. You get the same cold, recycled air pretty much everywhere, and that's how I like it.

What is your favorite food? What is your least favorite food?

I'll eat practically anything I can digest if I have to, but when I'm eating for pleasure or comfort I like hot foods. Anything with a lot of meat on it, glazed in sauce and sprinkled with spices. You feel like you're really eating when you're tearing meat off bone. As for least favorite, I'd have to say the liquid nutrient packs they gave us during zero-gravity training. It has the texture of sand mixed into old milk, and tastes about the same. Not to mention it goes straight through you, which is unpleasant in zero gravity.

What is your favorite drink?

Redfern Wine. Alversian alcohol. I had it once at a function for KIN officers in Tenfour. It's expensive as all hell, but I've never tasted anything so deep and firm. For non-alcoholic drinks, I usually just have water. Don't like to put any more chemicals into my body from the synthetic and manufactured drinks.

What's your favorite animal? Why?

Any of the big cats. A lot of the time they're lone hunters, relying on their own strength and wits to survive. They're the biggest, baddest things out there on some planets, but they still have to fight for survival. I feel some kinship with them. We're not unalike.

Do you have any pets? Do you want any pets? What kind?

I do not have any pets. I travel too much to be able to take care of one. I don't know that I'd want one anyway. Companionship should come from people.

What do you find most relaxing? Not as in stress relief, but as something that actually calms you down.

Showering. Well, bathing in general, really. When I get angry or stressed, and this goes for most kitsune, I start to emit pheromones that affect myself and other kitsune around me subconsciously. It can be used to bind us together or attract us, but one pissed-off kitsune can make a whole group of them angry because of this. If I'm not in my armor I just leave and shower off, wipe out all those pheromones. They can be a pain to deal with.

What habit that others have annoys you most?

When they assume things about Xiscapians. Stereotype us. Like we're all sexually deviant libido-driven nut jobs with guns. First of all, sexual deviance is determined by culture, so what's strange to you is normal for us, and there's probably more of us than there are you. Second, I'd hardly call our race libido-driven. There are many other factors. Nut jobs just isn't fair. I know that we can act crazy sometimes, but that's something we're proud of. Sometimes insanity is the only rational response. With guns...well, that's the only part I can't oppose.

What kind of things embarrass you? Why?

When my unit fails, so do I. When my fleet or army is forced back, so am I. When my nation and countrymen are humiliated, spat upon and marginalized, it's the same to me. Our bonds are deep, but while that means we all share successes and victories, we get each other's failures and defeats as well. I hate to see us at any less than our best, including myself. The Motherland is a reflection on me, and I on it. So when something is an embarrassment to the nation, it's an embarrassment to me as well.

What don't you like about yourself?

Once in a while I feel like I missed something. Or maybe it was taken from me. What lets people laugh and joke and be carefree. I don't really have that anymore. I think I've seen too much. Lost my innocence. I don't think it's something I would change if I could, because it's necessary, but I wish it didn't have to be like this. I was happier when I didn't know the things I do now.

How would you like to look?

I remember when I was a teenager I wanted all kinds of crazy body mods and dyes to distinguish myself from the crowd. Father put his foot down, of course, he said I would regret it and that IMPS wouldn't allow it. He was probably right on the first count, and definitely on the second. Didn't end up doing it, and I think I was happier for it, not to have rainbow hair and piercings through my tits. I still get the urge sometimes, though, to just go crazy with my appearance and try a bunch of new looks. Probably all that pent-up frustration from having to be perfectly uniform in high school. Might be something I'll do someday, while I'm still young. The Ascians don't care what you look like.

_______________________________________________________

Now the fun part: sex and intimacy.

Knew this was coming.

Would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, or something else? Why?

Bisexual. I know we're all supposed to be pansexual, but it just seems easier to say bi. I like and have had sex with males, and I like and have had sex with females. And I don't care what race or species they happen to be. Never thought we needed a word for that.

It does seem like I sleep with vixens a lot more, though.

Who was the first person you had sex with? When did it happen? What was it like? How well did it go?

A guy on my old high school Khong team named Kurogasa. I think I was sixteen, he was in the year ahead of me so he was probably seventeen or eighteen. I had to talk to our trainer after practice about something, can't remember what it was now, so when I got to the showers everyone had already left. Once I stripped and started washing Kurogasa walked in. I remember being surprised to see him because I'd thought he would have left with the others, but in retrospect I think he was waiting for me. He was a big one, probably our best player -better than me, anyway. We were friendly enough, hung out sometimes with other friends, but never just the two of us.

We got to talking and he ended up washing my back, common enough thing for friends to do, and then I returned the favor. It sticks out in my mind because we initiated at the same time, he went for me and I grabbed him and we ended up locked in an embrace with our snouts pressed together. Then he put me up against the wall and we did it, quick and dirty sort of thing. We were right under the showerhead, and my butt was against the main panel, with the knobs for the shower on either side, so I grabbed them for support and ended up dousing him in freezing water. Had a good laugh about that, and then he shook it off and we moved to the far wall. Afterwards we cleaned up and dressed and I walked him home. I liked him, he could be funny without being stupid and he was a good fuck. We were in an on again, off again relationship for about a year until I got wrapped up in IMPS and he got busy with a Khong scholarship. We still keep in touch.

Have you ever had a same-sex experience? Who with, what was it like, and how did it go?

It actually happened not too long after I did Kurogasa. Remember the vixen I told you about before, the one where we took a couple of hardsuits for a joyride? Azuma. It was her. We'd been "that" way with each other since we started to feel things like lust and desire. You know what I'm talking about, hugging for a lot longer than necessary when we met or left, playfully smacking each other on the bottom, lying all over each other whenever we got the opportunity. "That" way. The one that makes some people assume you're girlfriends, and it's a notion we didn't mind.

Anyway, we had a long day, regimental parade, examination and then she split with her last girlfriend on poor terms, all at the same time. I wanted something to get her mind off it all so I suggested we go to a club, and she perked up a bit at that so we put on all this ridiculous rave gear and went. I still remember it vividly because she looked amazing. Had this pair of black pants with blue and gold ribbon stitched around the belt, heavy boots and contacts that made her eyes glow violet. Nothing over her chest except tassels, with temporary green neon dye splashed between her breasts and down her back. Went nice with her rust and white colored fur.

I was a little more conservative, I think. Brown short shorts, white tank top, no shoes, a chain of glow sticks and nothing underneath. I don't remember very well because we'd probably only been there for five minutes before she started taking it off, and before I knew what was happening we were fucking right on the dance floor, her head right between my legs and me staring at her like a fool. Nobody cared, but I was stunned, to say the least. I got her into a back room when she finished me, and we just lay there on a coach for the rest of the night. After she finished apologizing I listened and she talked, mostly. It was bad. She had problems, right then anyway, and I did what I could.

Next time, when she sobered up, was much better.

What is your deepest, most well-hidden sexual fantasy? Would you ever try it?

I like bondage, but I'm always the one on top, the one doing the tying. Sometimes, a lot of time, I want to see what it's like on the other side. Part of me can't let that happen, though. I've been taught and trained my whole life that to be vulnerable like that, physically, is a step away from being dead, so it's very scary. And I only want to lose control to someone I trust unconditionally. I haven't found someone like that yet.

What was the wildest thing you've ever done, sexually? Who was it with and when did it happen?

Once I had sex with someone who was probably the closest a real person can get to being a goddess. Well, it was more than once. Several times. It was, well, interesting. Good, though. Very good.

Is there any sexual activity that you enjoy and/or practice regularly that can be considered non-standard? (Bondage, Fantasy Play, etc.) Why do you like it?

Bondage, like I mentioned. Having that kind of power is a rush. I don't know if you'd consider this non-standard -it isn't if you're a kitsune but I suppose it wouldn't be if you're not- but tail sex is another one. There are people out there who can do incredible things with their tails. Having another limb usually helps things too, I think. I've gotten good at it myself, from what I've been told.

Is there any sexual activity that you will not, under any circumstances, do?

Plenty. Most of it involving what's not with consent, when it's not sex anymore. There's some fetishes out there I'm not crazy about, but I'll try almost anything once.

Do you currently have a lover? What is their name, and what is your relationship like? What are they like? Why are you attracted to them?

No one I see regularly. I don't stay in one place long enough for that. Probably won't for a while, either. And I'm okay with that. It's hard to serve two mistresses, you know.

What is the perfect romantic date?

For me I think it would be one where I could test his or her mettle. Find out what they're made of, physically, mentally, emotionally. Not something wild, I'm talking about a sport or something competitive. That's how I like to get to know people. You can tell a lot about how they act under pressure, and what they're like when they lose.

Describe the perfect romantic partner for you.

A person who's strong. Maybe stronger than I am. Enough so that I don't have to worry about them when I'm not around. A sense of humor would be good, since I apparently don't have one myself. I like to laugh, just like most people. I'd want them to be a kitsune too, an Xiscapian. Someone I can trust.

Do you ever want to get married and have children? When do you see this happening?

Not anytime soon, but eventually, maybe. Seems to me like one would follow the other. At least, I couldn't imagine trying to raise a kit, or god help me, two without someone to help. It would probably happen if I find the right person. Until then, I'm content.

What is more important - sex or intimacy? Why?

They're both important, but intimacy is the one you really need. At the core any good relationship needs to have trust, and intimacy is a sign of that. Anyone can do sex, so it doesn't have to mean anything. That said, I don't personally think I could keep up a relationship that was just intimacy and no sex. I have my needs too.

What was your most recent relationship like? Who was it with? Does not need to be sexual, merely romantic.

I had a short-lived one with another Ascian named Takino. I think I mentioned her before, she was at Chalybs SURCOM for a little while. We hit off, then clashed, then competed, and next thing I knew she was in my bed one morning and I was making her breakfast. I can't say I really knew her, it lasted less than a week, but it was interesting. I'd like to see her come back again.

What's the worst thing you've done to someone you loved?

Told them that I didn't.

_______________________________________________________

New topic: Drugs and Alcohol.

Let's go.

How old were you when you first got drunk? What was the experience like? Did anything good come out of it? Did anything bad come out of it?

I remember it distinctly because it was at a party that Kurogasa took me to with some of his Khong buddies. I wandered upstairs to a game room and found a place where one of them, I don't remember his name, had broken out a big bottle of rum, a bunch of shot glasses and some chasers. I took to watching him and he looked up and commented that he didn't know what I was doing here, since I didn't look like I could run with the big players. It was a challenge, I knew it and he knew it but I accepted anyway, sat down right in front of him and started pouring. People started coming up to play and watch once we started, and I think a betting pool started in his favor.

I packed eight shots in ten minutes. He didn't even try to match it, I don't know when he stopped but he couldn't have done more than three, because he was smart enough to know that you don't do that. I was reckless, and that had me sneering at him by the time I was done, until I tried to stand up. I got to my feet, took one step and immediately crumpled to the floor. A couple of people helped me up and got me downstairs to the bathroom and left me there, probably expecting I'd start spewing chunks any moment.

For whatever reason I didn't, and at that point I decided I'd rather be with everyone else. So I staggered my way back up the stairs, found the host's bedroom where the main event was, and immediately threw up all over the bed. Kurogasa and a friend of his were the ones who got to me this time, helped me into the bathroom and put me in front of the toilet until I'd gotten it all out. I tried to fall asleep on the trashcan in there, so they picked me up again and put me back on the bed after they stripped the sheets off. I don't remember anything else I said or did, or even falling asleep.

The next morning everyone was sort of lying where they'd fallen, there were people in the bedroom, bathroom, on the stairs, sprawled on the sofas, even found a couple in a walk-in closet when I went to change my shirt because it had gotten puke all over it. Kurogasa got up not long after I did, he'd actually passed out under the bed, and we stuck around long enough to apologize to the host and clean up a little before he took me home. My parents weren't around, thank the Emperor, so we showered and I changed and they were never the wiser. Got teased about it at school of course, but it could have been a lot worse, if they were rougher people they would have beat the shit out of me, taken my clothes and valuables and dumped me in a ditch somewhere. But they were good people, tolerated me even when they probably should have kicked me out. Hell, I would've kicked me out. I learned to moderate my alcohol after that, anyway.

Do you drink on any kind of regular basis?

I'd say so. I'll have a drink with most meals, but not usually more than that. Go to a bar every once in a while, but I don't really do the whole drink-to-get-drunk thing. At least, not anymore.

What kind of alcohol do you prefer?

I enjoy sake. Now that people have other options to choose from aside from vodka -Alversian wine, Setulanite hard liquor, that sort of thing- a lot of them have turned to drinking other kinds of alcohol, but I stick by the traditional Xiscapian drink. Tastes good, relatively cheap and it doesn't get you drunk fast.

Have you ever tried any other kind of "mood altering" substance? Which one(s)? What did you think of each?

I tried cannabis a few times. Didn't like it much, maybe it didn't affect my right but I just never saw the appeal. I had ecstasy once at a rave, thanks to Azuma. The feeling when you're high on that is incredible, it's definitely a party drug, makes you feel like you can keep dancing forever, but coming down from it is awful. That's the reason I only did it once. Other than that, nothing much. I just don't like stuff like that much, it's a lot more difficult to regulate your intake than alcohol, in more ways than one.

What do you think of drugs and alcohol? Are there any people should not do? Why or why not?

I don't mind people who use the recreational stuff in moderation. It's like good food or a good fuck, you get a certain kind of primal pleasure from it and most people like that. The people who use it as a crutch, though, let it control them, they're weak. You have to have the will and discipline to use responsibly. Otherwise, avoid it, because it'll be the death of you.

_______________________________________________________

If you would entertain some questions about your morality and values.

Of course.

What one act in your past are you most ashamed of? What one act in your past are you most proud of?

I can't talk about the specifics of some of the worst things I've done. There's plenty I'm not proud of. If I had to pick one, it was during the Danaversian War. I was leading a team on Ranus V to eliminate a high-ranking Danaversian as a precursor to an offensive against a fortified installation. We got in alright, grav-suits got us over the walls where we were hanging onto a comm tower, the others covering me while I lined up the shot. Turns out I ordered one of the specialists onto a piece of equipment responsible for sending laser transmissions, so when the operators figured out none of their messages to other facilities were being received they knew something was up. They sounded the alarm and the whole base went on alert, with guards starting to close in on us.

That Dan officer, he knew exactly what was happening. Like most of the VIPs on Ranus he had a few slaves tending to him in his office, so he immediately took one hostage, held an Escan serving girl by the throat to cover his center mass as he pulled back. I had a matter of seconds to take the shot, my team was already planting charges in preparation to move and if I hesitated he'd be gone and we wouldn't get another chance. I took the shot, went right through her head and his breastplate, killed them both. We got out of there after that, no casualties from my team, and the action afterwards was a success.

It kept me up at night, though. Imperial Military doctrine doesn't hold playing nice with hostage-takers no matter the circumstances, and when you're on op you're conditioned to think of everything in terms of assets and figures. Forget that they're sapient and it's a lot easier. But I saw the look on her face right before my shot pulverized it. She wasn't some number, and she wasn't resigned or accepting either, she was terrified and then she was dead. I could have adjusted the shot, killed him and not her, I'm not bragging when I say I could have made it, but I made an impulsive choice and it ended with her decapitated corpse.

The most fucked up thing about it is even if I had pulled off the shot and let her live she would have died anyway. When XIA forces took the facility all the slaves were dead, brutalized and then executed. There was just no winning, and I guess she was doomed no matter what I did, but I was still the one who pulled that trigger.

On the other end of things there was the whole "hunt for Kunai Skylera." When I located that Founder ship and saw the hanger doors were still open I just went for it, took the initiative and boarded by myself to find that lost Sennai Marine. It was a bit foolish, I admit to that, but Kunai might be dead now if I hadn't done it, and I don't even know where I or the Founders would be. I won't say I was crucial to stopping Sector Six there, but let's say that without me they would have had support from the KIN and they would have won that day. I'm damn proud of the part I played in that. Too bad most of it's still classified.

Have you ever been in an argument before? Over what, with who, and who won?

I've been in a lot of arguments. I'm a stubborn person. I think the most memorable one was at one point during the Blacklight Crisis when I was still working with Kunai she was targeted by the cartel in a hit-and-run and ended up in a coma. I knew one of the Founders had had her hand in things, though not the attack specifically, so I stepped out into the hall and, in not so many words, told her to come her and save Kunai like the dog she was. She approached, and I had to convince her to do it. She exacted a few interesting promises in return, which I'm still honoring. Still not sure who won that one, really.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? Over what, with who, and who won?

Been in plenty of sparring matches and field combat engagements, so I assume you mean a civil physical confrontation. I've been in a few, mostly with drunk spacers who don't really know what they're doing. They never last long. Once I was sitting at a spaceport bar out of uniform when the man next to me accused me of stealing his drink. I didn't, but his cup was gone, probably some bored urchin took it in hopes of inciting a brawl; I explained that to him, but he didn't believe me. He pulled one haymaker that I ducked before taking his collar and slamming him nose-first into the counter. He didn't want to fight anymore, and no one bothered me after that. Nothing much to tell.

What do you feel most strongly about?

The truth. Part of my service to People, Emperor and State is taking an oath that means they and all friends of the Kitsune Empire can put their absolute trust in me. It's what separates us from others, because we're not just thugs with high-tech equipment. A kitsune soldier who breaks their oath is no soldier at all. It ties back in the core principles of honor and family, and that's what makes us strong.

What do you pretend to feel strongly about, just to impress people?

I don't advise that you ask that question again.

What trait do you find most admirable, and how often do you find it?

Loyalty. If an individual or a group supports and helps you, you do the same for them. It's a basic concept, but it seems like people just like to take advantage of help and not pledge anything in return. That's the hallmark of a decadent society, and that's what we have to avoid at all costs; we're doing a good job so far, from what I can tell. It's why the Xiscapians demand service in return for citizenship; there are no entitlements.

Is there anything you think should not be incorporated into the media or art (sex, violence, greed, etc.,)? If so, what and why, and if not, why not?

I think it's important to portray constructive values in a positive light, and vice versa. If we uphold honesty, loyalty and honor as virtues, we'll have an honest, loyal and honorable society. If we glorify greed, decadence and entitlements, we'll have a greedy, decadent and entitled society. As for things like sex and violence, that's part of life. It's out there in reality, and people are going to encounter it, so we shouldn't retard them by keeping it out of self-expression.

Do you have any feelings in general that you are disturbed by? What are they? Why do they disturb you?

I wonder if I'm too quick to follow orders on occasion. It's not my place to think about them and question the ramifications, but I've had people under me follow my commands with total obedience and it's gotten them into trouble. The Imperial Military highly values obedience, and so do I, but I don't want to risk us all becoming little more than drones. That's how once proud defenders of their nation turn into enforcers and death squads for petty tyrants. So I think a shared social ideology is important. It gives us something to fall back on when we're uncertain.

What is your religious view of things? What religion, if any, do you call your own?

I'm not a follower of any religion. I used to be an atheist, until I encountered the Founders. They're not gods -powerful and effectively immortal, yes, but still just people, as they told me themselves. But they still made me wonder. I guess you'd call me an agnostic now. I'm not going to say one way or the other. Religion's been the cause of a lot of conflict in the universe, though, and if it's all ultimately based on a pack of lies then what good is it?

Do you think the future is hopeful? Why?

The future is hopeful for the Kitsune Empire, her allies and all under their domain. We've come out of some very dark times, more than a dozen wars in the last twenty five years, billions dead, entire star systems ravaged, but we still came out on top. We're bigger, more advanced, better protected and freer than we ever were before, and we have the power to hold our own against any state or force out there you care to name. If you're with us, the future is very bright indeed. If you're against us, not so much.

As for me, I benefit when my People and State do, so the same goes for me.

Is an ounce of prevention really worth a pound of cure? Which is more valuable? Why do you feel this way?

A ton of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Better to head something off before it afflicts you. In a universe like this if you give a kilometer they'll take a parsec, so don't let them have a foothold at all. That's the philosophy of the KIN, and that's mine as well.

What's the worst thing that can be done to another person? Why?

Rape. It's...there's not really words for it. When you've met people who have endured it, known how hard it is for them to just keep living day by day...just so much pain. Like a war you're not prepared for, it leaves emotional and mental scars long after your physical ones heal. You're damaged, and even if you think you can pull through people treat you like you're damaged, and then you have to start over again. Some survivors just don't recover.

What's the worst thing you could actually do to someone you hated?

I'm trained in interrogation techniques. I know how to take someone off the street, how to covertly transport them, how to establish a prison safehouse. I can measure someone's vitality and resistance to pain down to the last decimal point, and keep them on the very edge of death. There are ways to get inside a being's head, to attack them from the inside, to break them psychologically. I know them. Let that suffice.

Are you a better leader or follower? Why do you think that? If you think the whole leader-follower archetype is a crock of shit, say so, and explain why?

I can and have done both. You have to, as a soldier. Most of the operations I take part in end in success, regardless of whether I'm leading or not. So...I suppose there's not much of a difference. I suppose it depends on who or what I'm leading. If it's a squad of Ascians, I'm a better leader. If it's a multinational task force, I'd lean towards follower. There isn't a hard catchall for that.

What is your responsibility to the universe, if any? Why do you think that?

I'm responsible for protecting my people and their friends and allies. I have no responsibility to the wider universe, except to uphold my own ideals and truths even in the face of adversity. The universe is more something I have to defend against than account to. It's so myriad and dark that no generalization will work for it. So I don't even try -I'm content with what we have here, and doing what I can to improve and safeguard it.

Do you think redemption is possible? If so, can anyone be redeemed, or are there only certain circumstances that can be? If not, why do you think nothing can redeem itself?

Depends on the person and the act we're talking about. Some people, they just can't. Kash Wilson was born and died ten billion times over, and he was a narcissistic, psychotic, mass-murdering sociopath every step of the way. Fundamentally broken, and better off dead. Other people, well, they just don't deserve it. There was a kitsune pirate captain who got captured a few years back. Once he realized the full extent of the misery his actions had wrought he was wracked with guilt, wanted to change. But he'd taken too much, killed too many, doomed himself in the end. Even if he could have been redeemed it didn't matter. Justice had to be done.

But people can come back from the brink. I've seen it happen. Once someone realizes the mistake they've made, they atone for it. It's a beautiful thing. It just doesn't happen that often.

Is it okay for you to cry? When was the last time you cried?

I don't cry. I make other people cry.

What do you think is wrong with MOST people, overall?

Forget or don't know where they come from. You have to remember your family, your nation, your people. They are all your brothers and sisters, to an extent, and we have to stay together to be strong. If more people did that I think the universe would be a better place. But the concept of family isn't a universal one.

_______________________________________________________

Miscellaneous questions will make up our last section.

Very good.

What is the thing that has frightened you most? Do you think there is anything out there that's scarier than that? What do you think that would be?

I see the people who come out of broken homes, shattered families, failed nations. Ferra, the Zillar Republic, those tiny, nameless independent colony worlds. They're gaunt and hollow-eyed and empty. All they're doing is surviving, more driven by biological need and instinct than any conscious desire. It terrifies me to think that we could have been that, could be that. Stagnant, defeated husks. Like zombies.

Scarier than that? I couldn't conceive it. Give me death over that any day. Seeing that makes me understand why rebels and revolutionaries will die by the millions at the hands of dictators. They don't want to live that un-life. No one does.

Has anyone or anything you've ever cared about died? How did you feel about it? What happened?

I've lost squadmates before, in one war or another. Friends. Dead faster than I could blink, usually, a small blessing. Sniper's shot or a hidden mine or a collapsing structure. You never get used to it, but you do repress it, hold it in, complete the mission...then you let it out. It happens differently every time. Sometimes I talk to someone. Sometimes I go off alone and just do some repetitive, mindless task like write a report until I'm so tired I have to sleep. You live in small chunks, and it fades a little as time goes on. Things happen. People rotate in and out. It's still there, but it doesn't hurt as much anymore.
You never forget, though.

What was the worst injury you've ever received? How did it happen?

I don't get wounded that often as an Ascian, because we're not usually the focus of the brunt of an attack. Not like the Black Guards or Imperial Marines. I've been stabbed once, shot a few times, gotten sprayed with shrapnel, the usual. Probably my worst injury came from the Blacklight Crisis when I was acting as an overwatch sniper on a drop ship during a raid on a cartel compound. There was a Puma 4x4 tied down behind me, and the pilot's maneuvering caused it to come loose. Rolled right out the back over me, cut the cables keeping me in place and dropped me a good fifty feet to the ground. I had to take a vacation in a bacta tank to recover from that one.

How ticklish are you? Where are you ticklish?

I am not at all. Don't try.

What is your current long term goal?

Before I get too old I want to settle down, find a mate and have at least one kit. I've known that for a long time. It's harder than it sounds. But life has a strange way of conspiring to make sure these things happen. Here's to it.

What is your current short term goal?

Staying sharp and alive long enough to get from one op to the next. That's all I need to concentrate on.

Do you have any bad habits? If so, what are they, and do you plan to get rid of them?

I suppose I have a few. The alcohol probably isn't really good for me, but I have no plans on stopping. I do volunteer for assignments a lot, which is at least partially what makes me so liked and respected with the others in my units but definitely isn't doing my health any favors. That...I might cut down on. A bit. We'll see.

If you were a mundane person, what would you do with your life? What occupation would you want, and how would you spend all your time?

I don't think I could keep away from a job like this. Exciting, testing my mettle against all comers, comradeship and teamwork. I guess if I'd taken my life in a different direction I could be on a professional Khong team. That seems on my level. I'd still probably join a citizen's militia or something, even if there was practically no chance we'd ever see combat. I like guns too much not to have something to do with them.

What time period do you wish you had lived in? Why? What appeals to you about this era? Looking at this as an attempt to change history doesn't count.

I've mentioned before that I'm a bit of a history buff, so I think I'd really want to go back to prehistory, just to see what's there. Or maybe live during the Exodus, nobody knows what happened to some of those colony ships. Then of course there's the entire Korr War and a lot of historical battles and events I was technically alive for but too young to remember, like the coronation of Emperor Rose. It's hard to decide! Give me any one and I think I'd be happy.

How private of a person are you? Why?

I tend to keep things to myself. Most people don't need to know my inner thoughts and feelings. My training, school and, to a certain extent, family taught me that. Reservation and composure is important. Choosing who and where to reveal those things to is even more so.

If you were to gain an obscenely large sum of money (via an inhertiance, a lawsuit, a lottery, or anything else) what would you do with it?

Put it away in a bank account somewhere and let it collect interest while I continued to serve the Kitsune Empire. I'd probably retire a bit earlier than normal and my shore leaves and vacations would be that much more extravagant, but I would strive to not let wealth change me. I swore an oath and I take that seriously. Money doesn't really change things.
Not to say I wouldn't take an obscenely large sum of money if anyone were to be offering.

What would you wish for if you found a genie?

That...is a difficult question. Something I normally couldn't get, obviously. The ability to always know all the consequences of my actions. A blessing and a curse. I think I could handle it, though. I've already seen what not knowing will do, and as my father was fond of saying, "If you think education is expensive, try ignorance."

What do you do when you are bored?

I like to read a lot during my downtime and during those lengthy scouting patrols when you're just waiting for scan results to compile. If not that and I'm on a station or warship, I spar, I go to the shooting range, take some V.R. training, exercise at the gym. Keep myself in shape. If it's just for fun I'll go to a bar, or watch a Khong match, go through a history V.R., maybe a joyride in the Muros. I've been known to enjoy the beach once in a while too.

What is the most frightening potential handicap or disfigurement you can conceive of? What makes it so frightening?

Irreparable brain damage that leaves me of negligible intelligence or completely vegetative. I'd still be taking up resources, filling up a bed somewhere, but I wouldn't be doing anything productive. I'd become a drain on everyone around me, even emotionally. How do you care for something that can't really acknowledge your existence? Better off dead.

_______________________________________________________

That concludes the interview. Thank you for your time, Commander.

Of course.

[Emporer Pudu]

[ POST MODERN TECH]

[ MATURE ]

[ EXECUTION OF THE TRAITOR FAISAL ]

City of Riydad, capital of Western Prefecture and formerly of Suudihya

The van rolled up in front of the museum casually; it did not look out of place among the dated, dusty, and dented cars that frequented the streets of Riydad, the colonial capital of the Western Prefecture of the Pantokratocracy. Riydad was once a flourishing Suudihyan port city, when enterprise was slightly freer. Since the Imperial Trading Company was allowed to operate in the country however, local business had been suffering.

Even the look of the seven Suudi men who climbed out of the van was not unusual; they wore coveralls and carried ladders, toolboxes, and duffel bags. They appeared to the other poor Suudihyans on the street to be the lucky few with a steady job. None of them could have guessed what that job was, however.

The leader of the Suudi "construction" crew was a man named Faisal al Rashid; he had short curly black hair, a close trimmed beard and mustache, and wore the outfit of a construction foreman. It was he that first was confronted by the guard at the doors to the museum, "Hold up there," the guard nearly yelled, stepping between Faisal and the entrance, "I haven't been informed of any construction crews coming in today."

Faisal paused, "Are you sure, because I could have sworn it was today."

"Hang on, let me call my boss," the guard said, plucking the radio from his belt.

Before the uniformed guard could speak however, Faisal had changed the plan; the so-called foreman dropped his duffel bag and delivered a swift uppercut to the guards chin.

Stunned and bleeding from the mouth, the guard staggered backward, although he couldn't make any noise from his mouth that didn't amount to gurgling and groans. He had bitten his own tongue off. Faisal kneed the guard in the groin and finally grabbed his hard hat and smashed it down on the guards skull.

From somewhere, there was a yell; The crowd began to panic. Faisal acted quickly, dashing through the doors and yelling for his six compatriots to follow him. Inside another guard started toward them from across the lobby, but in mid-yell he was silenced by a shotgun blast. One of Faisal's assistants had produced the sawed-off gun from his toolbox.

Moments later every one of the insurrectionists had discarded their fake construction equipment in favor of their guns, except for Faisal, who carried both a 9mm pistol and his duffel bag. The men were running with a purpose, heading ever deeper into the museum. By the time they reached the entrance to the room labeled "Museum of the Imperial Divinity" two further guards had been dispatched by gunfire, and the museum was filled with the screaming and stomping of frantic guests.

"Abdul, Bandar! Stay here, the rest of you, follow me!" Faisal yelled. Just as the five men disappeared into the darkened corridor leading to the exhibit of the Imperial Divinity gunfire erupted from the end of the hallway; Abdul and Bandar quickly took cover behind a pair of sculpture stands and returned fire.

Faisal and the four men with him finally arrived in a domed room, the ceiling of which was awash with murals depicting Imperial victories, heroes, and architecture. At the center of the room was a roped off sculpture, a giant stone throne seat adorned by a bronze of the Emperor himself, with a head of solid jade; worth more than the entire remaining museum collection.

Quickly, Faisal opened the bag and started handing out dynamite. As the sounds of gunfire from Abdul and Bandar stopped, Faisal had placed the last of the explosives. The sounds of running footsteps was heard in the room, and three Suudis took up kneeling positions just inside the doorway, shotguns leveled.

The sound of the three shotgun blasts coincided with the dynamite explosion from across the large room; sunlight suddenly pierced the dust coulds, and when they began to settle the guards could make out a few distinct things: The stature of the Imperial Divinity had been destroyed, and the head was missing, there was a truck-sized hole blasted in the wall, and there were three dead Suudis and five dead guards in the doorway, some still struggling to hold onto life.

Faisal and the two remaining insurrectionists were gone.

---

"They're not going to get away this time." snarled Major General Gadinka.

The general had been out-maneuvered twice before by Faisal and the other Suudi nationalists, the first time they had fired an RPG into a destroyer stopped for replenishment; the attack caused only superficial damage, but that the strike went unpunished made the perpetrators into folk heroes among the nationalists community. The second attack was on a low-level ambassador; he had not been killed or beaten, but rather his attackers drenched him in pig's blood, which would have been far more insulting if the ambassador had happened to be a muslim, but it was a propaganda coup nonetheless.

This time, the general was not pulling any punches, "Seal off a five-block radius. Engage the emergency alarm system. Kill anyone on the streets and begin a house-to-house search. We're going to find them, sooner or later."

The headquarters for the brigade stationed in Riydad was buzzing with intelligence from the platoons in the streets - people were fleeing the district like it was burning down, and the explosion hadn't calmed them. Within minutes the guardsmen had sealed off the roads leading out of the 25-block area that had been declared closed. Teams were still navigating rooftops and alleyways to ensure Pudite eyes were on all exists from the area, including the sewers and subway stations.

There was no way Faisal and his comrades could have made it out, and in fact, they hadn't yet.

---

"Keep up, we're almost there" shouted Faisal, sprinting down the almost empty street. The sirens turning on didn't spook them; they had been on shortly after every other attack, what did scare them is what the empty streets implied - they could be seen.

Mohammad was lagging behind, partly because he was the one stuck hauling a solid jade head, which he didn't hesitate to make clear "Why don't you carry the head! You wanted it so much!"

"Fine," Faisal shot back, "Drop it then! Fuck all, just catch up!"

Faisal turned abruptly and ducked through a doorway into a small personal courtyard, which was also empty, save for a few chickens who were quite startled by his appearance. His two followers did what they did best, and followed him in.

When they arrived Faisal was banging on the nearest door, a large green wooden door. It opened to reveal a large man, also Suudi, staring at Faisal suspiciously. Faisal spoke first "Help, we need to get inside, we can't be on the streets during an alarm!"

The big man did not lose his suspicious look, "Yeah? Where were you? Why couldn't you stay there?"

"Shopping!" replied Faisal excitedly, starting to lose his cool,

"Oh yeah?" contested the man, "I don't see any bags, what did you buy?"

Faisal was silent for a second, and then lunged his shoulder at the man, "Fuck all! Let us in!"

The big man did not crumple like the museum guard, however, and he quickly grabbed Faisal's arms in his own large meaty hands. Faisal, his eyes wild with rage, delivered a stout headbutt to his enemy. The attack, however, did not produce the desired result; without moving from the protection of his doorway, the big man returned the headbutt and at the same released Faisal's hands, which sent the revolutionary leader sprawling, "Traitor!" shouted Mohammad, who picked up a wrench from a table in the courtyard and rushed the door, which the man promptly shut and locked.

Mohammad hurled the wrench in frustration at a second-story window of the man's house, and then turned to Faisal who was again on his feet. "We need to hide." was all their leader could muster, still rubbing his forehead.

A few minutes later and all three revolutionaries were secreted inside the courtyard chicken coop, after shooing the previous feathered residents back out onto the cobblestones. What they did not realize was that not only did the big Suudi not want to house a criminal, but that he was a soldier in the territorial Auxiliary, and had alerted the appropriate authorities to the suspicious men.

---

"The magistrate will now read the charges against the convicted, Mohammed al Assad and Abdul Mullak, both Provincial Freemen of no caste apprehended fifteen days prior to this trial."

The courtroom was filled with local government officials and other wealthy or important enough members of the society who were able to secure a seat for the proceedings. Mohammed and Abdul were held in a cage before the judge, who was seated in an iron throne atop a stone pedestal at the head of the chamber. Lawyers, legal aides, and other officials for the defense and prosecution were seated in a slightly lowered area to either side of the cage, hurriedly consulting tables cluttered with documents.

Both Mohammed and Abdul looked emaciated; their eyes were sunken and their standard-issue prison uniforms were hanging off their brittle bodies; they had been kept with almost no food and minimal water for more than two weeks. They were both, literally, starving.

The judge was a woman of perhaps forty, with grey-blond hair wearing the gold and purple robes of an Imperial Resident; the arbiter of Pudite law in a territory. She wore slender spectacles which she peered over to stare at the two revolutionaries. This made them uneasy.

The magistrate was standing next to the judge, and he began to speak "The two men of question here today are hereby charged with the following crimes; conspiracy to incite unrest, public insurrection, treason, conspiracy to commit aggravated public defaming, aggravated public defaming, aggravated private defaming, gross sacrilege, assault of a public officer, sacrilegious vandalism, murder of a public officer, murder of a Provincial Freeman, and sacrilegious grand larceny."

Both Mohammed and Abdul had never heard their charges listed consecutively before, and they were filled with a great fear, the magistrate stepped back and the judge spoke "How do the accused plead to these afore-listed charges?"

A young woman stood from the defense side of the legal pits, holding a document to read from, "Your grace, the accused guilty to the charges listed against them, but contend that the conspiracy and," she paused, faltering, "Uh, that the actions that led to these crimes were all the cause of their leader, Faisal al-Bareek. They will testify against the criminal Faisal in return for their charges being reduced."

The judge looked at the young lawyer with her unfalteringly judicious and un-readable gaze, which made the young woman almost as uneasy as it did Mohammed and Abdul, "How does the prosecution receive this plea?" she said at length,

"Your grace, the plea of guilty with the listed stipulations is acceptable to the prosecution." replied a lawyer from the opposite legal pit, a man perhaps ten years the judge's elder. The opposing sides, in realization of the certainty of conviction, had made this deal previously in the week.

"I will consider this plea, I will resume the trial in five minutes." said the judge, who then stood and was escorted by the magistrate and a single Iovani into her chambers in the rear of the room.

The five minutes were five minutes of silence and apprehension. Quiet murmurs began to stir in the crowd assembled, rumors of Faisal and of the punishment to be inflicted on the revolutionaries. Nearly every offense they were charged with carried the penalty of death, and if the sacrilege charges were maintained then it would not only be the death of the accused but of their next generation, if they had yet produced one. The whispers were silenced when the judge returned to the courtroom.

Taking her seat, she again turned her gaze to the two accused, and then out to the crowd, "I have considered the plea by the defense, and the agreement of the prosecution and have taken this as well as the prisoner's future testimony into account in making this decision," the room was totally silent. If Mohammed and Abdul hadn't been fixed into their chairs with latches they would be on the edge of their seat,

"I have decided that the two accused, Mohammed al Assad and Abdul Mulluk are found guilty of their offenses." The silence was profound, the crowd wanted to know if the deal would be accepted, or if guilty really did mean dead,

The magistrate was the next to speak however, "Bring out the prisoner!"

Confusion reigned, but only for a moment; Faisal appeared from the judge's chambers being hauled by two burley Iovani guards. The magistrate continued, "In recognition of the attempt at violent sedition and coup exercised by this man, Faisal-may-his-name-be-damned, he will here today be executed for his crimes."

Mohammed and Abdul's hearts sunk, they were no longer of use, and certainly, they would be killed. The other thing that struck their hunger-pained brains was how Faisal looked; he had been eating well for two weeks, that was certain. He may even have been plumper than when he was captured.

The judge stood from her iron seat, "Seat him."

The Iovani sat Faisal in the judge's chair and proceeded to clamp him down with manacles to the hands and feet, and a strap around the head. He had almost zero freedom of movement, his limbs held firmly against the arms, seat, and back of the chair.

"You have been doomed," began the judge, now standing at the side of the chair alongside the magistrate and Iovani, "You sought the throne not rightfully yours, and have been captured. We however will not deny you your kingship!"

The magistrate turned to the guards, "Give him his crown!"

The Iovani turned and went back to the judges chambers, and then returned carrying a red-hot crown with a pair of tongs. This was all occurring behind Faisal, and so when the burning metal crown was dropped on his head his scream was one of surprise as well as pain,

"The chair!" barked the magistrate. The Iovani brought the tongs back into the judge's chamber, and by the the time he had returned the chair had already begun to steam where Faisal's bare skin was held against it. A simple switch activated the heating elements inside the metal throne.

Faisal's screams did not stop, the chair continued to heat until it almost glowed red; the patches of clothing and hair against the chair caught fire and bare skin boiled. Flesh began to slide from the arms and legs of the revolutionary leader, and soon his screams died out; he had fallen into a coma from the sheer pain being exercised on his body.

Moments later he awoke, and his vocalizations of the excruciating burns began again, and then he slipped into unconsciousness again. This occurred a half-dozen more times in the next fifteen minutes; soon the flesh had completely burned away where it touched the chair, and most of his clothing had burned up. Faisal's whole body was boiling and burned, and the room smelt of burning meat and hair.

Faisal was dead.

"Now we must dispose of this treasonous corpse!" spoke the magistrate, "Release the prisoners!"

The Iovani opened the cage and removed the bindings from Mohammed and Abdul, both stumbling in shock at their recent sight. Another Iovani had done the same for the charred meat of Faisal, dumping the body on the floor.

"You shall be pardoned of your crimes, Mohammed and Abdul," began the judge, "Dispose of this corpse."

The two prisoners still living were still in shock, the stood dumb before the smoking meat. Quickly the Iovani forced them down to kneeling positions next to Faisal, and at this the judge continued, "You must consume the body of your treason, and you will be released."

"No!" shouted Abdul, immediately.

"You must."

"I refuse."

"Then you are guilty." The judge's sentence was punctuated by a single gunshot from an Iovani. Abdul's body was dragged away from a still-dumb Mohammed.

"Eat." came the command. Mohammed began to rip at the flesh.

[Xenohumanity]

[FT]

[Mature]

Straight Up Thugging

You know, I’m sure there’s a saying for times like this, when a crooked cop has you by the balls in front of a live audience, but the concussion is making everything in the ‘linguistics’ folder a bit harder to get into.

“WHERE. IS. YOUR. TEAM?”

Oh, she’s talking again. I peel my neck off my chest as I turn my gaze up-

*crack*

“EYES UP HERE, PISSANT.”

I’d always heard broken collar-bones were ‘stun injuries’ meant to induce pain and a reaction rather than cause long-term damage. It couldn’t really chop up any vitals or arteries, but it would ache for a month or so even with medication and bone-menders. Now I found out the hard-way as she smashed the butt of her mercenary rifle down into me. Guess I must not have panned up fast enough for her. Hell, even if I had been staring at her chest, all I would have gotten was a solid, blocky plate of nano-ceramic with ‘WYRM’ stenciled on in AR paint. These CorpSec people from Xeno-Tech aren’t ones to act all sexy and futurist on the job, even in tourist season.

After groaning for a second, too high off of adrenaline and the fade-away of a few capsules of amphetamines to really scream from the cutting, jagged pain over my heart, I look up again. She’s glaring down at me with those bright sexy blue eyes, but I can’t describe the face. Her helmet was still on, one of the full wrap-around everything-proof ones that look like a construction helmet made out of plasticrete. Most CorpSec cops used the open-face ones so tourists didn’t think this place was ‘that bad’ of a police state, but she was running full riot gear for this special occasion. Stun sticks, las-deflective armor, the whole nine yards. See one of these on a corner and you knew XenoAdmin or Corporate was looking for somebody to bust for something, bad. The eye section of her blue-tinted visor was transparent, but the rest was opaque, and she was using that small space to shoot absolute daggers at me.

Oh, I’m sure you’re asking, “Raunt, what the hell is going on? Where are we? Why are you getting tortured by a cop?” I’m going to start with the second, segway into the first, probably hit the third on the way out. Fuck, that bone-break is really starting to hurt now. No, the other one I got before they cuffed me. They shot me in the back of the thigh while I was running, snapped the femur clean in two, popped out the front again with a nice spurt. I only realized it because of the ‘thud’, the ‘snap’, and the fact that I just up and fell on my face while running. Amphetamines, remember? Hell, if I didn’t have Xeno-Tech Auto-Sang Medical Nanite Scabbers™ like I do, I’d have just up and bled out right there.

Oh man, those folks at the end of the alley won’t stop staring all of this. I even think one of ‘em is just grinning at me to get me riled up. From what I can see where I am plopped on the ground, there’s something that’s probably a main-street XenoGrocery off outside behind a pair of cars, and off to the left down the end of the alley, the back entrance to a XenoWarehouse. If I turn my head to the side and force my sore neck to crane back a little more, I could starting following the form of the fire escape and the useless windows of a XenoApartment or a XenoCondo. No difference in this part of town other than the price-tag, really.

The streets are as sandy and dusty as usual, and an artist would probably complement the smooth tan layer on the road for its silkiness or something, but to the locals, it’s just grainy shit that gets everywhere. Bullet holes, for one. It makes a little crunching noise if it’s been left out for a while, which means every twitch I make and every step the cops take sounds like rice crispies under a rolling pin. The air back here is dusty as well, both from the ever-present sand as well as from the fact that this is probably the first time anybody’s been back here in a year, so there’s a small cloud of ultra-fine grey shit getting kicked up and blown around by thermals and the scuffling ‘brary cops making every breath I take a little wheezy.

Anyway, right now, me and ‘Lieutenant Jassen’ (what I think was her name from the AR name-holo while we were shooting at each-other) are having a little talk. I’ve got my dumb Drakon ass propped up against a brick wall in a back-alley in Picasso Town, outside of Lattrobee City, a nice thick pair of zipcuffs around my ankles and wrists. I’ve just been dragged over here from across town for a little ‘information gathering session’ at gunpoint, pretty typical stuff for dealing with gangers like me. It’s, oh, three in the morning, but I can’t be sure. I know it was about 13:20 PM when I got knocked out. I’m local-born and local raised, but with the drugs in my system, the three suns and the fact that it’s bright desert twilight all the time are throwing me for a loop. She’s got two Wyrm Defense guys with shotguns on slings at the end of the sandy, shaded alley to keep people away. There’s still about five or six folks gawking at me anyway, always eager for a little impromptu blood-sport in the name of the law, and the guards aren’t telling them to go away, so that’s that. Then there’s her and two more guys, sling-guns at the ready, with tiny sprays of blood on their gear from earlier, standing over me despite the fact that they’re about a foot shorter than me when I’m standing.

“Wait,” you’re saying. “Drakon stand two or three heads above most people, not one. What?” Yes, I’ll admit, I’m not fully matured. I’m only 11, but that’s easily 16 or 17 in human years, biologically. Gene-coded rapid maturation is a helluva ride, and thanks to speed-learning and other psychosurgical stuff the ‘Larians put in our genome, we can manage to fit in a full school career by the time I’m 15 and ready to join the Army.

Back to the action. So, I’m staring her in the face as best I can, and I answer with a truthful “I’unno” to her question about the team. I really didn’t know where Marp and the gang drove off after that little jewelry store job we had been trying to pull went south. She had been running a few torrented T.E.S.T. programs and keeping the alarms from going off and stuff, but that doesn’t really matter if somebody shouts ‘Gangers’ and the cops start going full-auto at you. She and Lucian, the guy who had been doing wheel-man duty for us, they fucking gunned it right after Peatre threw the jewel-bag in the back and dragged himself in while they drove off. Sons of bitches just left me hanging out to dry, and I had only two speedloaders on me, and one of them was in the damned revolver already. That’s what I get for volunteering for shoutman duty, y’know, being the guy who orders the clerks around, gets ‘em to throw their guns over the counter, and making sure they keep their damned auto-turret off in case Marp’s T.E.S.T.s fucked up or something.

The Lieutenant responds by rolling her eyes and stomping on my thigh’s exit wound with her big-ass steel boot. The Auto-Sang held up, and she knew it, so she didn’t have to worry about opening an artery and killing me right there. It hurt like crazy, so I let out an ‘aurkkhgh’ of displeasure, and she asks me about them again.

“Where are they going, big guy?”
“I sehd I’unno.”

The concussion is making me slur a little, and I huff at myself when I realize it. Still, I’m doing pretty good, all things considered. I ain’t dead, for one. They don’t have me downtown for another, where they could go at me all day with pain-sticks and hypos full of whatever truth serum XenoSci’s testing with today. Ms. Jassen sort of squats down and leans over into my face, those eyes of her plain ol’ stabbing into me. It was getting painful.

“Oh man,” she sighs. “Sometimes I wonder why I still deal with ganger trash like you. I could just kill you right now and write it off as you going to grab my crotch. Nobody’d care. You wondering why I’m still talking to you instead of stomping you flat?”

Now, I have to admit, in retrospect, this would be a very, very bad thing to say to a police officer, sober or not, but at the time, it was funny to me, and likely funny to the other ‘brary goons. I swear, I think at least two of them chuckled.

“It’s cuz’ I’m black, idn’t it?”

She is a realist, most likely. Thing is, I was actually a green-skin. Running joke is that all the important Drakon are black-hides, so pairing that with old-timey Terran racism, a joke happens, funny comes out, you get the idea. You probably gathered I’m not a very funny guy.

The only reason I stopped going on was because she had taken out her handgun, popped out the mag, taken out a round, and then, of all the low-down bullshit things you could do, shoved it into my hole in my fucking leg and stomped it in a little. Yes, it hurt. No, I couldn’t do diddly about it. All I could do is groan and shake my head to kind of communicate ‘no, don’t do that, that’s bogus’.

“It isn’t racist if I hate all you damn ganger types equally,” she explains. “No, it’s because you have the chance to be useful to society for once. Now, you see, what I did was put a .357-caliber optic slug into your leg.” She drew the stun-stick from its little loop on her belt and extended it with a flick of her wrist, the arcs and crackle of several hundred volts of pure hurt buzzing in the air. “You also know they’re triggered with electricity. That’s what makes the laser shoot out, gas-cartridges, basic stuff. So, if I were to smack you in the leg with this, it’d doubtless go off. Your bone marrow would boil off, your blood would steam, and I’m honestly guessing your whole leg would just blow right off you like a bottle rocket. No Auto-Sang’ll save you from that kind of blood loss. I’ve seen it before. Great with crowds, gives the high school kiddies something to catch with their trideo-cameras. So, what you’re going to do is tell me where they ran off to, who you’re all with, and I’ll just put this away and pull out the slug. Shit, I might even take you down to a hospital and get you patched up, outta my pocket. You got that?”

To be fair, she was putting up a pretty good case for selling them out. Hell, I had a pretty good case for selling them out, they just sold me out the second a job actually got somewhat difficult. This, combined with a cocktail of pain, amphetamine hangover, and exhaustion, and I just went ‘fuck it’ and started talking. Well, slurring, really.

“Yeh. We’re from th’ Galahad Ring.”
“Oh, I heard about them,” she says, putting away her stun stick. Good sign. “Operates out of the Nuturks, right?”
“Th’ one n’ only.”
“Fuck, I hate that gang.” Who doesn’t; the Nuturks are happens when you give a bunch of angsty anarchists enough Consortium funding to actually blow up buildings and stuff. Hell, I only joined because I lived on their turf and joining was safer than anything else. So much for that line of thought. “Into valuables laundering, right?”
“Yep. Needed ‘hard asseds’ to deal wiff, we wen’ out to get some.”
“And it went south?”
“’Ell yeh, it went south. Y’fukken shot me.”
“Question, you’ve got a recorder on you?”
“I’ve got an implant c’mputer, so yeh.”
“Get this recorded, then. I officially apologize for shooting you. Sorry, kid. Don’t hear that coming from CorpSec often, do you?”
“Naw, naw you don’t.”
“Still, what’re they doing with kids like you for street warfare?”
“I’unno, ask ‘em.”
“Figures a disposable like you wouldn’t know. Got any numbers?”

I think for a second before answering. This isn’t just selling out, this is selling out at this point. People get pissed if you let moles into the gang or intel out, and angry people usually kill you in this country.

“Can I get pr’tection?”
“Don’t see why I can’t arrange for it.”
“Coo’. The guy payin’ my chits is Arlaw Brown,” I said as I rooted around my implant computer and pulled up the number in my head. “9212-1949-2239. Low-rankin’, but ‘es command anyhow. Don’t know ‘is address, but go scare up trouble around the starport and you’ll find ‘im I guess.”
“Thank you, citizen. It’s all recorded. Starport, huh? That’s XenoLaw’s turf, they haven’t given Wyrm a contract there in ages. Hell, probably explains why we haven’t been able to track ‘em there, Nuturks must have some of the MP’s over there on their payroll.”

She got out of her in-my-face interrogating stance and stood back up, stretching and yawning. She pulled up a little holograph display on her wrist, probably a comm-puter.

“Well, I’m calling an ambulance for you. XenoLaw’ll be paying the bill. We’re probably going to have more chats like this. More productive than I could have imagined. Anything else you’d like to say?”

I shook my head. At this point, the amps were plain old out of my system, and every bit of me ached like I got hit by a freighter.

“It’s okay, you did fine, honestly. Alright, men, let’s pack it up. Leave him here, X-Tech’s got the coordinates, medical’ll be here in about 10 minutes. Toodles…”
“Raunt. Jemmy Raunt.”
“Raunt. Got it.”

With that, she turns her back to me and clop-clop-clops off to the end of the alley. One of the guards goes with her right away, but the other holds back a second. He was a brown-haired, goateed, normal-looking fellow. Pretty bland, not much else to describe. He slung his shotgun around and rooted in a hip-pocket for something.

“Sorry about all that, kid. Lieutenant gets mad at everybody. Here,” he says, pulling out a little hypo of something and giving me a gentle jab in the left arm. “Low-mol neocaine. For the pain. The ambulance stuff doesn’t work too well on kids.”
“Thanks, man,” I mutter.
“You’re welcome. See you at the station, kid. Hope things turn out better for you on the right side of the law.”
“Me too.”

With that, he too got up and headed out. I’m still sitting there, tied up against a wall, smelling the copper of my own bloodstains, head finally slumping back on my chest. I fade to sleep for about 2 minutes when I hear the little whoop-whoop of the ambulance and hear the MedMarines on contract get out with a hover-stretcher. Thank God, it was getting boring. They get me on, push me in, dope me up, and I can already feel myself fading out.

Well, now I can say that I’ve fought the law and lost. It doesn’t feel too bad, come to think of it.

[Abruzi]

Lucifer

Insanity Tech

OOC: Def not my best but I've had major writers block for weeks.

The most terrifying of beasts was the one without skin. Covered in thick slabs of muscle, bound by tight sinews, and dominated by a singular desire to feed, the skinless beast was definitely the worst. It stood alone, even as the other Daemons fed on the dissected bodies of a team of Stalkers. It stood alone, gazing upon the ruined buildings with an awareness that was both suspiciously developed and completely unique. Alone amongst it's brethren, the skinless beast sang.

It's voice was not the even and measured voice of the man it once was, nor was it the open mouth cries of insanity that it's more vocal brethren belted out in the night. It was a mixture of the two that reflected the strangely developed yet still inhuman intellect of the creature. Through the ruined city he walked, some said it appeared as if he was searching while others said he had already found all there was to find and now hunted. Either way, he walked.

Dead streets and shattered buildings lined his way, in his wake came the horde of Daemons that rallied about him like children to a father, and before him stood only the silence of the Dead Zones. He was intelligent yet alone, sane yet monster, with his pack yet alone. Other than his skinless body he had a recognizably human physique save for the horns. Two horns had long sprouted and now curled above his head, casting him into the image of the Scandinvan Catholic Satan, a being long dead to those of the Novaya Bolshevist Union.

Stalkers were quick to name him after the great Satan however and soon our lone singer became known as Lucifer. Thus named he became even more unique for here was a beast that was more than just a new variety of Daemon in one of the Zones, here was a named Daemon who could think and regularly sang. His songs were not enjoyable nor were they horrible, they were unnatural if anything. A man who heard them in the night would become fixed in place, eager to meet the singer yet deathly afraid for he knew exactly who came for him. Lucifer with his host of followers was never kind and yet it was said that from time to time he stayed the horde and instead spoke with those foolish Stalkers who went that far into the central Zone.

None of these men have ever returned but the rumor has sprung up that Lucifer speaks of the way the world once was and how it will be in time. He weaves tales of bloodshed and fear, highlighting the death of the Capitalist and Socialist Systems, showing that behind everything the Gospodar Lubanja has long motivated men. This fell god's desire for the skulls of humanity, for their hatred, for their rage, has ensured that Lucifer and his kind exist. The Lubanja is his father and unto humanity the son of the Gospodar delivers a message,

“The Way of Humanity is a Way of Death.”

[Stedicules]

her paper fangs

/| (mt) /|

his long flowing robe danced around his legs in the dim moonlight. the floor he walked on was elegant hardwood an his bare feet made a distinctive sliding sound as he crept across it. The loud sounds of a grandfather clock's chimes.

His wife slid onto the hardwood floor from behind a shadowed door and the man stepped back, frightened. "Dear Christ, Margaret, you could have sent me to the grave early!" he whispered excitedly. "I'm sorry, Brody, but you woke me up."

"You should really go back to bed, Marge. I've come down with something, I need some fresh air." he said to her, half-smiling.
"Umm... Okay. I'll see you in the morning." She moped by him and he heard the door slam. He cringed at the sound.

He waited. The door opened again, "Do come back to bed soon!" she called. He walked through an ornate oak door and into his magnificent galley kitchen that was worth millions. He hated it.

Another door swung open and unfolded a staircase for his feet to deftly glide across. four steps down a door opened again and he crossed its threshold into the awesome night that enveloped his large house. The night air was cold and his skin trembled quickly.

"she's dangerous..."

"she'll kill you..."

"be careful..."

his mind shook in agitation as the sounds invaded his thoughts. "No, stop, get out of my head. I won't hear it tonight." he said to himself slowly. "Listen to me, Declan, listen to me..."

He leaned over the tan stucco balcony and gripped it angrily, "No, shutup, shutup! She can't do that, she won't!" the voice echoed across his brain like a charged lightening bolt and he crumpled to the floor, leaning against the balcony's edge.

"Yes she will..."

/|/|

He woke up terrified and his sheets were soaking in his sweat. "Oh my god..." He muttered as he slid out of his bed and looked at his wet clothes in disgust, "That felt so real!" he said, still shocked. As he rubbed sleep out of his eyes and walked into the bathroom he turned back to look at his beautiful wife, sleeping beside him. But she wasn't there.

He didn't mind, and he methodically freshened up and turned the faucet on in his large jacuzzi. He put one foot in after the other, his skin shocked by the hot water. "Ah, that feels so good." he said happily. It was still dark outside the bathroom window and he began to doze off on the comfortable bench in the jacuzzi.

He woke up with something covering his whole body, something keeping him in the bubbling hot water that was now burning his skin. "Oh fuck, ow! let me out!" he screamed in pain and tried to tear whatever held him under to shreds.

"I told you she'd kill you..."

The voice interrupted his struggle and shot fiery pains through his brain. He struggled harder under the sheet while the voice in his head grew louder and more painful with every sentence,

"I told you she'd kill you..."

"Stop it! Make the voices stop!" He shouted, on his knees in the water as the sheet was thrown off his head, letting him see the sun peaking the horizon through the glass window casting pinkish yellow sunrays onto the white tile floors. "Its... Beautiful." he said as the light danced in his face, gleaming off one side of the blade his wife held over her head.

Behind her was a man who's hand clung the woman's shoulder. "No! It can't be! they can't be right!" he wailed from the jacuzzi, "I'm sorry honey, but they were." she said quietly as she raised the sword high and let it fell heavily and with great force into the kneeling man's skull, splitting it in two.

[Spooty]

[ MT ]

The Saartian Board of Education, in Association with Forbes Entertainment Present:

A Narrative History to the Saartian Downfall

Part #1
1948, The Closing Days of the War

They told us it was nearly over, the Empire was retreating, quicker than anyone had expected, they left behind their wastelands, the furious desert climates that sick stroked even the hardiest of our men, we walked unopposed, but we found ourselves stopping every hour, either to rest, or to find another of our regiment taken by the Empires invisible weapon.
We paused for the day in a make-shift camp, I skimmed through a stack of papers, thick cards buried deep in tissue thin envelopes, letters from mother, well wishing and idealist. I'd long since given up on the correspondence, the bi-polar messages from home rarely touched on my interests, and only served to make me feel sickly and emasculated.
Touching the cards started a gagging feeling in my stomach, the medics had warned us to keep them abreast of any signs of nausea, despite knowing the source in my insecurities I felt the need to have someone to talk to.

Elzinga, a beautiful, tall blonde man with steely grey eyes greeted me at the makeshift medical tent. The regimental pretty boy, and I don't say that with any implication that he was a fop, man was built well, proudly, there was hero material, hell, when the camera's came to call on our thoughts they stuck to Elzinga with expected fascination.
The god quickly threw his socks back on, shooting me a dirty look as I passed through the privacy canvas. "There's a good boy, you didn't see anything, eh?" Elzinga asked, knowing that my response would be affirmative he simply left me to the medic. When Sebastien Tygo had joined the outfit he was just some dumb young kid, he'd watched too many adventure serials, had the sort of saccharine optimism and delusions of fantasy a life raised by serials was bound to have.
Sebastien, the Sebastien we knew now, was a nervous and introverted figure, he had his cuff held to his mouth at all times, his flesh was clear of blood and his eyes were sunken like a demons. "Say, Sebastien." I introduced myself, slowly, didn't wanna startle the poor kid. "Seb, hey, Seb!" The stony face came to life, he put on a distinctly superficial smile and welcomed me into the tent.
"Private..." He stammered, "Uhm, uhm..." his hand began rotating in the air in a mnemonic gesticulation which seemed more for show than anything else.
"Tuurick, Sebastien, Tuurick van Kuipers, you know my name we've shared the same bunk together, c'mon, you're not that far gone, surely!" I slapped the medic on the arm in jest, he laughed and smiled, somewhat forcibly. "Listen, Seb, you told us to report any nausea, well I aint been feeling too comfortable."
"I see," He leaned in and took a close look at my eyes, pulling the eyelids apart so I couldn't blink, "have you been keeping to the shade?"
"I been trying." The temporary comfort of the rolling tent city we had moving across the desert was only a brief respite from the impossible situation of the desert. "You think it's heat stroke?"
"Wouldn't hurt to have you bunk here tonight, I wouldn't recommend exposure to the sun."
"Yeah, well that's easier said, Seb, Command thinks there's an installation out here somewhere, we'll probably be marching until we're dead or we've found it." Whichever came first, if the sun didn't kill us before we got to the Imperial camp we'd probably be shot down approaching.

I was haunted at night by my collection of letters, the night's freezing cold was as unbearable as the daytime heat and kept the mind focused on anxieties, as if the whole wasteland was built to pray on a man's insecurities. I tried distracting my mind by thinking about the mission briefing, the approach and layout of our objective, how we would secure victory over our enemy and return to Saartie as heroes.
Heroes, that was the thought, that we would return home mass celebration, our names shared and spread across towns and cities, we would return as great victors and would be spoiled with the treasures of the Saartian Empire, fame, wealth and women, this had been my motivation, the motivation for several others, Sebastien had wanted to be the titular character of the serials he watched, Elzinga the great nordic figure of ancient legends, me, I wanted the buxom embrace of my dear molly.
I began to have the creeping fear, as I drifted off to sleep, that we were living a fantastic delusion. Sebastien had learned that the story behind the serial characters was a horror story, filled with death and moral repugnance, he had seen and done things that no flashy name or space age weapon could take away from. Elzinga had become a vein and vapid figure, obsessed with his good looks and reputation as a manly hero who everyone wanted to be, shaken by his fears as a sad and disfigured former soldier, and me, my fantasy wasn't broken yet, I still had the dream of molly with only the price of time now hanging on that nail hook.

A forceful shudder rocked me awake, I opened my eyes blearily to the Staff Sergeant forcing me out of the cot. "Get the hell up Tuurick!" I jumped out of the blanket, standing to attention before the senior officer. "You forget you were on recon duty this morning?" I shot a look of surprise, I had forgotten, but I had to pass off my ignorance.
"Sir, I felt nauseous so I-"
"You're in the medical tent, Tuurick, I'm guessing you were either sick or just wanted to be close to Seb here." I shot an ugly fierce sneer at the Sergeant, how dare he question my persuasions. Seb had just awoken too, he was crawling from the cot, eyes still sore. "Seb, you're on our duty." Sergeant Izaak, "Zak", was a good man, or at least a good soldier, he commanded respect from the platoon and the higher ups, even if he was living his life entirely as the soldier, a career man, but perhaps a man overlooked, you could see his crushing depression at every overlooked promotion, at every menial duty and task he was attached to, for instance, this one, a simple recon, with the platoon introvert and me.
I looked over to the canvas entrance, there, stood, with a cocksure posture and well meant smile was Elzinga, hell at least he was coming with us.

The early morning of the desert was relaxingly peaceful, still shadowy and calm, not the hellish wastes of the daytime, though my eyes were still heavy I was able to keep my spirits high in the cool dawn air.
At the crest of a dune we discovered perhaps not what we were looking for, an encampment, bordered by high chain link fencing. "No." Zak, muttered from our secluded position, "No, the maps don't show anything like this." He ducked away into the breast of his jacket, examining the recon map with a sheltered flash light, "This isn't the installation." He revealed, a look of utter confusion upon his face.
"So, what're we gonna do about it?" Seb asked, looking quite anxious to enter the unexpected encampment. I was distracted, watching through the fence at the outpost's buildings and watchtowers, I saw no signs of life, no guards or lights, the entrance, typically the signs of an active base was awash with built up piles of sand, the cabin was empty and what presumption of road had long since been lost to the drifting, changing nature of the wastes.
"It's empty boss." I shared my observation, Elzinga and Zak making confirmations through their binoculars, the whole place was a haunted memory of the Imperial retreat. "There may be supplies, or, hell, at least shelter, check it out?" I posited the option, it seemed reckless to charge into an enemy installation with no backup, my own mind was ablaze with the survival instinct warning me not to, but I suppose we all had the same over-riding compulsion, that this was key to our individual goals.
Without any discussion we four made our way towards the dead base, guns at the ready and making a slow, tactical advance up the desert sands. We expected a fight, we were anticipating, encouraging a dramatic conflict, our whole life spent sifting through the sands had built to this final confrontation, like a narrative we were only one act away from our rewards, free to claim without any further damage to the glory of our delusions.
Hotly anticipating we crossed the thresh-hold of the camp, sand sinking only a fraction of an inch before hitting tarmac, the place was eerie still but clear signs of life were visible, tracks and carelessly abandoned crates of ammunition had us nervously encroach further, hearts racing in anticipation.

Well met, the first of the camp occupants slowly greeted us, my jaw dropped and my grip loosened, a ghoulish figure with skin purplish red rose from behind a truck, his face was emaciated and skin burnt in the desert heat, he seemed almost like the embalmed dead. We rose from our prone positions as the crowd emerged, the camp survivors revealing themselves, peacefully, I thought, until I further considered that they were feeble, shambling, tired, sick and hungry, emaciated and defeated.
My dream was to come home to molly's chambers, I mentioned previously how every one of us in this small group had dreams to be crushed, how I didn't think mine was as complex or altruistic enough to be approached, but I looked at my enemy, I looked at how the war would end for me and I saw a tidal wave of such crushing emasculation, that I would be not contributing towards the masculine act of ending a war against a tyrannical and demonic enemy, but that I would be taking pot shots against an emaciated and unwilling opponent.
Seb shot first, his sub-machine gun sprayed across the crowd effortlessly, in his mind he was the hero, the noble and square jawed liberator, zapping away the Martians with his space age ray-gun, he would be on cereal boxes and in comics, the great hero of the Imperial Wasteland, I watched his face, the most confident and beaming it had been since we entered the scrub land of the wastes.
Elzinga followed, not wanting to be called out for his cowardice, he was the hero, nobody else, the dashing man of Saartie who slew the Imperial beast, an example to be set, painted, portrayed and examined, his name and lineage a score for a century to come as a dashing, handsome hero.
Zak took a guilty look at me, he offered a pitiful look, then turned and joined the firing line, knowing that the immediacy of his actions would show the command that he was the heroic commander their army needed the future of the Saartian military come alive, that this was his path to the noble families of Generals and Marshalls.
I doubled over, my guts finally spilled and wept as the roar of gunfire flared around me, I couldn't do it, I couldn't see my story end at such pitiful resolution, I would see molly and I would go to her, not as a hero, but not as sub-human either.

Dear Mother,

I am coming home. The war is over and we are all heroes, the King says we are to be the idols of a future generation, that our offspring shall be the greatest of the Saartian generations, I am filled with hope that Saartie shall be anew, the greatest Empire upon this world, I suppose you could call me: Optimistic.

Your Son, Tuurick.

[Sennai]

[ FT ]

[ Mature ]

[ An Interview with A Mother ]

For this interview we have Commander Taka Toshi-shita of the Alliance Interstellar Fleet. Responsible for First contact with the Kitsune Empire of Xiscapia, Commander of the Manta Heavy Cruiser SSA Celestia, Laision between the AIF and KIN and hard workign mother of two. This interveiw is taking place from her family's home in Tanto, Xiscapia KEX On the sixty first day of the Sun season, 203 AF. our questions today will be tinted blue, while her answers will be in Red.

Thank you for inviting us in us, Commander. Shall we begin?

Whenever your ready.
__________
What about you is heroic?

Wouldent know, i dont see myself as a hero really, but if i had to answer id say it was protectign those i care about

What about you is social? What do you like about people?

To be completely honest i wasent the most sociable commander until i met my bond mate, Tawaras the one that taught me to be really sociable. As for what i like about people, i think it's their loyalty to one another that i like.

Of what benefit could you be to an adventuring group?

If you mean something like an Orc's and Ogres adventuring party then id say i would be good at coordinating everyone's efforts together. but if not that then im pretty flexible i think.

Have you ever been a part of a closely-knit group that isn't your family, like a ship's crew or military unit?

Of course. Im Still Commanding the Celestia when not on leave. They where my crew for six years before we encontered the fifty three years in space and they supported me sicne then. Other than that id say both the Kitsune aboard the fifty three years in space and the Liasions i worked with were all pretty closely knitted together

What kind of contract or operation could you see yourself actively undertaking, as opposed to tagging along or just following orders?

Continuing as the AIF's Liasion to the Kitsune Imperial Navy. i get a larger portion of free reign than i did when i was just a Ships commander. In these times it's good to keep relationships Cemented.
________________
Personal Questions

Allright.

What is your real, birth name? What name do you use?

My Real birth name is Taka Sura'saya, But i took Tawara's family name when i bonded with him.

Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it?

Yes. Commander Taka since People kept running out of breath to say my last name, or kept mispronouncing it, Started off with my crew then it sort of became the norm to get called that really. Normaly a commander gets called by their surname instead of first so i guess you could call it a nickname.

Describe yourself in your own words. Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features.

Five foot seven inches, about a hundred and ten pounds. i have Brown hair, Light brown fur, blue eyes. Caucasian skinned and im Thirty one years old. i couldent say i had any outward distinguishing features.

How do you dress most of the time?

for work im always in uniform. Dark blue trousers, double breasted jacket with the commanders cap.

How do you "dress up?"

Dress uniform. Like my normal work clothes except with more commendations and stark white instead of dark blue. If you mean for formal occasions when im not on duty a Kimono always works for me.

How do you "dress down?"

Jeans, T-shirt, sometimes a dress maybe when im feeling relaxed enough. i take my hair out it's back bun and let it down.

What do you wear when you go to sleep?

Night shirt and boy shorts. Too used to wearign them on the Celestia at night to be comfortable wearing anythign else.

Do you wear any jewelry?

My fleet Tags, i keep them under my shirt mostly though. They have my dads tag and my mothers tag attatched aswell as the ring Tawara gave me for my last birthday.

In your opinion, what is your best feature?

My tail. I occasionaly get paranoid that it'll look like a mess looks unprofessional.

What's your real birth date?

Twenty first of the Thaw season, 172 AF.

Where do you live? Describe it: Is it messy, neat, avant-garde, sparse, etc.?

Depends on what im doing at that time really. my quarters on the Celestia are Pretty sparse and neat, My flat in Farrne Naviara is tidy though. Here it's not that messy either. i try to keep a clean living space.

Do you own a car, ship or other mode of transportation? Describe it.

I dont own the Celestia, but i do have a Black Gojirra Hatchback i convinced Tawara to bring back from my holdign lot. flat lines sadly, but it seats five has enough boot space for groceries and has a bit of a turn of speed.

What is your most prized mundane possession? Why do you value it so much?

My clydesdale M1911. One of the first hundred models. my great grandfather won it in a Shooting competition. was my grandfathers, my dads and now it's mine. never jammed on the firing range or in combat once.

What one word best describes you?

Organised.
___________

Familial Questions

Okay.

What was your family like?

My family was pretty discplined,Three generations in the millatry would do that to a family. not that we didnt know how to have fun that is. We were a good family unit.

Who was your father, and what was he like?

Hara sura'sera. Armoury master on the SSA Dawnbreaker, which was the flagship before the Poseidon and it's sister ships were constructed. He was pretty meticulous in counting everythign in the house and niver missed a beat if somethign was missing, he'd know by the smallest differentc in a biscuit jar what was missing. Heck, he even named the buiscuit i took without permission without even looking inside.

Who was your mother, and what was she like?

Lanna Kegato. She was an Legal expert for the AIF. Hadent saw much combat at all but that didnt stop her from loving my dad. She was a great mother. If i got into trouble at school over some minor little thing that was complete crap she'd drop in and find some exit in the rules for me. though she was pretty strict at enforcing her own i think.

What was your parent's marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married?

They're still married, Living on a beachhouse on Atlan two soaking up some solar rays. i never saw their marridge hit any major roughspots, they kept that particular business away from me.

What were your siblings names? What were they like?

I didnt have any siblings, So i couldent tell you an answer to that.

What's the worst thing one of your siblings ever did to you? What's the worst thing you've done to one of your siblings?

Sort of a moot question now isnt it?

When's the last time you saw any member of your family? Where are they now?

About six months ago when we went to visit them with the Kits. I think they scared the cycles out of Tawara but dad took him for a drink while me and mum watched the kits, The pair of them came back singign and laughing like old war buddies so i dont think there was any problems between them after that.

Did you ever meet any other family members? Who were they? What did you think of them?

I had an uncle xavier on my mothers side. he was fun when he was over, My grandperents on both sides were still alive till recently, both sides were funny and it was like a gathering of millatry historians every kami Night or Lanterns Eve.
_____________

Childhood Questions

knew this was coming,.

What is your first memory?

Losing my plastic Starship in my grandma's garden at about three and a half. i me my mum and my ganr serched for it and found it hiding in a bush.

What was your favorite toy?

An Old Leviathan Battleship plastic toy. i loved that thing. took it everwhere like a security blanket. Got given it by my dad to put on my desk to "shoot away the night monsters" as he told me. Never had a nightmare after that i can tell you so it must have worked.

What was your favorite game?

Hop stop. Sort of like hopscotch except theres three of you tryign to do it while one person turns their back to you. you have to stop moving when they turn round. first person to them wins.

Any non-family member adults stick out in your mind? Who were they, and how did you know them? Why do they stick out?

No single person my perents knew sticks out more than any others. If i had to pick it would be the XO of the dawnbreaker who came round every week to sit and talk over old stories and how crewmates were getting on after they'd retired. To me he was like a favourite uncle alsways had time to sit and tell me stories about the Fleet actions he'd seen. if anythign his stories probably pushed me towards joining more than my mother and father ever did.

Who was your best friend when you were growing up?

A girl named Kyto Sashima. she leved across the street and we saw each other every day right up until i moved to The academy. We used to play ball in the street or have laser tag games. She was always better at shootign though.

What is your fondest, childhood memory?

My fondest memory is when i was with my mum and dad escorting my father to the drydock in Atlan fleet station. he let me sit on an ammo cart that he pushed along. that was the first time i saw a Leviathan close up. My toy battleship hadent done the thing any justice. i was speechless right after i saw it. all the people workign on the hull like ants. my dad kissed my mother and patted me on the head saying "Maybe one Day Taka-chan, you'll be a commander on a big ship." i could hardly speak so i just nodded. i spent the rest of the day pretendign i was a fleet admiral.

What is your worst childhood memory?

My worst was when i was out in the park with Kyto, We went climbing a a dead tree that was cordend off. Everyone had climbed it once before and it was sort of a big deal that you climbed it atleast once. but a branch snapped under my foot sending me falling right off it. wedged my leg in a fork. broke my ankle, and dislocated my knee and hip. hit my head too. i was screaming bloody murder. Kyto ran off to get help and i was stuck there till the ambulance came. one of the worst injuries ive ever had.
_____________

Adolescent Questions

Sure thing.

How old were you when you went on your first date?

I was 17 when i first went on a date. It was with with a fellow cadet, Umeza Harlo. He was a pretty nice guy. we went to the movies and had dinner together. we dated for a while afterwards but it wasent to be.

It is common for one's view of authority to develop in their adolescent years. What is your view of authority, and what event most affected it?

My veiw is that power can be abused. certain people shouldent be in charge because once they are everythign goes all to hell. i had a seniour teacher that was a real sick bastard. physical ed. his methods were downright cruel.

What were you like in high school? What "clique" did you best fit in with?

Bookworms. i studied heavily when i was in the academy. the popular kids found out that charm was'nt what you wanted when your joining the fleet and the jocks normally got low scores to end up as marines instead.

What were your high school goals?

Same as my childhood goals. end up captainign a ship of some sort. lookign back on it now it was a hell of a gamble trying that,

Who was your idol when you were growing up? Who did you first fantasize about in your life?

Sky captain from the Sky legion cartoon. he was the sort of captain i wanted to be. respected by his loyal crew who would follow him into dangerous situations trusting him with their responsibility.

What is your favorite memory from adolescence?

Getting put in the commander bracket for my second year of academy. i was one step closer to captainign a ship.

What is your worst memory from adolescence?

maybe a little cliche but i actually forgot to study for my midterm test. god that feeling was terrible. i kept hoping it was a dream but it wasent. i did my test and i barely passed.
_______________

Occupational Questions

bring them on.

Do you have a job? What is it? Do you like it? If no job, where does your money come from?

Commander of the SSA Celestia and alliance interstellar fleet Liason to the kitsune imperial Navy. It's a bit of a demanding job, requires alot of juggling on my part. but it's great to feel like a part of a bigger organisation. keeping relations between the fleets is pretty rewarding.

What is your boss or employer like?

I report to severl admirals in the AIF, Some are more understanding than others. some of them just want me to let them jump the que to get their requests in first though. but i dont stand for them, they wait their turn.

What are your co-workers like? Do you get along with them? Any in particular? Which ones don't you get along with?

I work with a a few xiscaian representitives, they're all really polite. a bit understanding about me not beign able to speak xiscapian well enough to hold too long a conversation with them. A couple of alliance commanders jocky behind me tryign to make me screw up though. nothign more politcal than the normal office i think.

What is something you had to learn that you hated?

Blueprints. cycles that was annoying. we had to memories every class of ship and model . Really time consuming. however it comes in handy now when you try to recognise a ship and learn it's weak spots.

Do you tend to save or spend your money? Why?

Save. i prefer to save my money for things since i normally have all i need. recently though i save for my family and kits.

Cont....

[Sennai]

Cont...

Likes & Dislikes Questions

Fire away

What hobbies do you have?

Shooting at the gun range. I've been getting into knittign and cooking though. somethign more pedestrian since i have to stay home alot more because of the kits.

Who is your closest mundane friend? Describe them and how you relate to them.

i would say sergent Dwayne Hick's on board the Celestia. Big tough loyal marine. He's risked alot for me before and generaly gives me good advice when i need it.

Who is your worst mundane enemy? Describe them and why you don't get along.

I think my worst mundane enemy has been the Alliance home office. When the Dan war started they sent me a letter to tell me i was'nt being called up. Took me six months to lobby for my return to the navy. even then i wasent in front line duty. mostly dealing with liasion work. was a bit of a pain but it was better than sitting helplessly.

What bands do you like? Do you even pay attention?

i dont pay attention as much anymore. but i suppose the Black smoke band is my favorite. a little old school classical and rock music if they think they can get away with it.

What tape or CD hasn't left your player since your purchased it? Why?

"Above the Fleet" a soft song with a bit of scynthetic stuff stuck in. it's been doing it's rounds for a while.

What song is "your song?" Why?

Im embarresed to say that "Love's In bloom" by fourplay is probably my song now. if you'd asked me a year ago i'd probably thrown you off my ship for even suggesting that sort of song was mine.

What's been your favorite movie of all time?

Echo Hunt. A pretty serious film. it was set during the foundign war focusing on the battle between submarine commanders. Really thrilling.

Read any good books? What were they?

Yu Shens "Picture of Battle" pretty good tactical advice. funnily enough it's a good metaphor for child rearing too. but maybe thats just me.

What do you watch on the Television?

mostly the news. a few documentaries on the dan war or xiscapia. i still have alot to learn here. Tawara does his best to teach me.

When it comes to mundane politics, do you care? If so, which way do you tend to vote? If not, why don't you care?

I dont really care much for politics. Though if they impact on my or my families life in a negative way you can bet ill care then.

What type of places do you hang out in with your mundane friends?

Bar's and resteraunts. it's a nice place to relax and eat.

What type of places do you hang out in with your normal friends?

I've a few Xiscapian freinds that i hang out with. We meet in the public baths for the most part. sometimes when we're out shopping.

What annoys you more than anything else?

More than anything else? When somethigns in my way or when someones threatenign my family.

What would be the perfect gift for you?

I have them already. i couldent ask for a better present than my kits. come back in about fifteen years and ill let you know if it's changed.

What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?

both my kits sleeping after being born. Qonn and the twins be my witness i will never see a more beutiful sight in my life.

What time of day is your favorite?

Early mornign just as the sun is rising. The sun sheds just enough light to be cool and that time always makes me smile and think ahead to the rest of the day.

What kind of weather is your favorite?

Light rain in a fairly sunny sky. shows everythings in balance.

What is your favorite food? What is your least favorite food?

Ferran'Sa is my favorite, Sweet grass in seasoned sauce..im hungry just thinkign about it. As for my least? Leek soup. Blegh. the stuff is foul and i can tell you my kits wont be getting that if i can help it.

What is your favorite drink?

Orange juice. The stuff is chockfull ov vitamins and more. tastes great and is cheap enough and plentifull enough to get almost anywhere.

What's your favorite animal? Why?

The fox of course. if you really have to ask then you dont deserve to be doign this interview.

Do you have any pets? Do you want any pets? What kind?

I dont have any pets nor for the moment do i want any. in the future maybe a Felix or a Fox. but we'll see.

What do you find most relaxing? Not as in stress relief, but as something that actually calms you down.

Silence. I like it when it's really quiet. means everythigns right with the world.

What habit that others have annoys you most?

People who play music up really loud. im fine with music everyones allright with being played loud but when the newest pop sensation is being blared at me from some inconsidirite frakker thats where i draw the line.

What kind of things embarrass you? Why?

When i mess up and dont notice. Makes me look stupid when i do.

What don't you like about yourself?

Im very vain about my tail. it really shouldent matter that much to me but it does. it's my biggest flaw i think.

How would you like to look?

No differnt than i do now. Everyone has a supposedly perfect image they want to look like but im happy as i am.
__________

Sex & Intimacy Questions

Tread carefully please.

Would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, or something else? Why?

Straight. definetly straight. Girls arnt my type.

Who was the first person you had sex with? When did it happen? What was it like? How well did it go?

A study partner in academy. i wont say his name because it is still a private matter. At the time we we're both pretty wasted after a freind had passed his tests, id gotten into a drinking contest involving mosskau vodka. he'd been doing flame shots. we'd known each other before that particular party but we'd never really connected before. It wasent the greatest though. We were both very clumsy and slow. we dated for a while after but he went on to engineerign and i kept on my command track.

Have you ever had a same-sex experience? Who with, what was it like, and how did it go?

I can honestly say i never have had a same sex experiance.

What is your deepest, most well-hidden sexual fantasy? Would you ever try it?

if i told you it wouldent be that well hidden now would it? Let's just say if i had the oppertunity to i would try it.

What was the wildest thing you've ever done, sexually? Who was it with and when did it happen?

On my Bonding night. Me and tawara were gettign ready for our first night in the same bed as a bonded pair. it's a pretty old tradition in Sen kitsune society to try to concive kids on the night of marrige, but in this case bonding was the same. it was a very intimate moemnt for us. Nine months later well...let's just say that particualr tradition paid off.

Is there any sexual activity that you enjoy and/or practice regularly that can be considered non-standard? (Bondage, Fantasy Play, etc.) Why do you like it?

I sometimes wear my uniform before we go to bed. i dotn know if you can call it fantasy play, but to me it's a little bit more like a reenactment of the first time me and tawara met.

Is there any sexual activity that you will not, under any circumstances, do?

Plenty but again thats a really sensitive subject im not really willing to discuss.

Do you currently have a lover? What is their name, and what is your relationship like? What are they like? Why are you attracted to them?

Im Tawara toshi-shita's bondmate. Id say we're each others foil. when i was single i was a real disciplinarian i hadent been out of uniform in years for any casual scene. then i met Tawara in a casual enviroment and he was really good at making me lower my hair down. Tawaras fun loving and cracks alot of jokes. Pretty much the opposite of me at times.

What is the perfect romantic date?

Had it already. tawara and i went to a fancy resteraunt on a Sen cruise liner that was orbiting Naviara. we stayed for dinner, then attended a masque ball on board the ship right after. we waltzed, we kissed and we thuroghly enjoyed ourselves.

Describe the perfect romantic partner for you.

Tawara.

Do you ever want to get married and have children? When do you see this happening?

done them both. two years ago.

What is more important - sex or intimacy? Why?

intimacy. sex is just that. no real attatchment to the other person. Intimacy is what keeps someone together with another person. without that we're all just singles.

What was your most recent relationship like? Who was it with? Does not need to be sexual, merely romantic.

Still in my relationship with Tawara. we're perfectly happy together. at first it was really romantic. Now it's intimate, i stand by him and he stands by me.

What's the worst thing you've done to someone you loved?

They probably wont remember it, but i fought for my kits future. I missed their first steps, their first word. i missed alot. i denied them their mother for two years. and it really hurt me inside. Watching them grow through a holo chat.
__________

Drug & Alcohol Questions

right

How old were you when you first got drunk? What was the experience like? Did anything good come out of it? Did anything bad come out of it?

I was 19. graduated high school and felt really rebellious for once. I went out to a bar and got drunk on Sake. Nothign good came out of that really. i threw up on the way home and staggered blind drunk to my room and just conked out on the bed. the hangover the next day was a killer. made all the worse by my perents giving me a good tounge lashing too. i felt horrible.

Do you drink on any kind of regular basis?

Not especially. i have no set time for drinking alcohol.

What kind of alcohol do you prefer?

Sake, it's soft enough to drink alot of if you have to drink alot of them.

Have you ever tried any other kind of "mood altering" substance? Which one(s)? What did you think of each?

Sadly not. right after that drunken situation of high school i kept myself away from anythign that could mess up with my studies.

What do you think of drugs and alcohol? Are there any people should not do? Why or why not?

With regulation and moderation people can use them easily enough. id have no problem with them. Theres plenty of really dangerous violent ones out there that shouldent be used if only because they can be killers.
________

Morality Questions

Im listening.

What one act in your past are you most ashamed of? What one act in your past are you most proud of?

The act im most ashamed of in my life is during a classified op. one of my rescuers stepped out of the door instead of me and god shot. dispite the attention he got given he didnt make it. if i hadent let him go first..then maybe he'd still be alive today. As for what im most proud of, it's giving my bondmate two great kits. i think iv'e said it before but it's one of the best moments of my life.

Have you ever been in an argument before? Over what, with who, and who won?

Oh i've been in plenty of arguments before. i think the one that sticks most in my mind is when i first considered showing tawara around System when he first arrived. I went to look for him and was given the impression he was in his cabin making me a entry in his little black book and that was all he had cared about me. i had a sort of one sided shouting match with him. then he explained the misunderstanding. i ended up kissing him so the best you can probably say is that he was that arguments winner.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? Over what, with who, and who won?

Again who hasent been in a proper fight before? I was in my apartment when this big guy burst in he wanted to know where tawara was for some reason so i refused to tell him. he threatend me with a gun and tried to force me to tell him. i kicked it out his hands and we fought a while. but he was too big and strong. it was like punchign a wall. admitantly he won the first round..left me lying on the floor. but i did manage to shoot him. so i won.

What do you feel most strongly about?

Loyalty and family

What do you pretend to feel strongly about, just to impress people?

i dont pretend to feel strongly about anything to impress anyone. if they' dont accept my veiw on the matter im not goign to change my way of thinkign just to impress them.

What trait do you find most admirable, and how often do you find it?

I find loyalty to be the best quality. i find it in people surprisingly often, especially when it comes to family freinds and people in the millatry.

Is there anything you think should not be incorporated into the media or art (sex, violence, greed, etc.,)? If so, what and why, and if not, why not?

Media and art incorporate these things because they are all expresssive. i dont object to any of those beign included in art or media. however if it goes to extremes then id try to put a lid on it or if it's not age appropriate.

Do you have any feelings in general that you are disturbed by? What are they? Why do they disturb you?

when im angry enough to kill someone. i dont claim to be a pacifist nor do i have a clean record but if i feel angry enough to kill someone im generally disturbed by that. thats not the reason i do what i do.

What is your religious view of things? What religion, if any, do you call your own?

The Cycles and Qonn and bodom are both really close together so it's easy enough to follow both religions. It was quite a shock to me when i looked into it. Makes me wonder if theres an entire side of the universe that belongs to each part.

Do you think the future is hopeful? Why?

i think it is. For the nations of Axis that is. Theres no enemy that we cant overcome if we all work together. it's like a...interstellar version of the Sen alliance. So many different people creeds and ideals coming together for a peaceful future.

Is an ounce of prevention really worth a pound of cure? Which is more valuable? Why do you feel this way?

It really depends on what the Prevention is and what the cure is. If i had to choose id choose to prevent a disaster before i had to cure or clean it up. the reason thats my choice is cureing is what you do after the disaster or incident has occured. prevention is what you do to stop all the bad business that can come with cureing somethign.

What's the worst thing that can be done to another person? Why?

having them be aware of their surroundings but be unable to do anything beyond that. It's a personal hell i think.

What's the worst thing you could actually do to someone you hated?

Paralyse them. I can do it aswell, I know the right bundles of nerves to hit if i really have to...though thats not something i should talk about.

Are you a better leader or follower? Why do you think that? If you think the whole leader-follower archetype is a crock of shit, say so, and explain why?

Leader. Definetly. i clash too much with someone if i dont like their particular way of thinking. It's not really a crock, theres some cases where the leader has no fit purpose beign in charge. especially if they get there through just charisma alone.

What is your responsibility to the universe, if any? Why do you think that?

My responseibility to the universe is to make sure my kits have the rest of their lives to look forward to. i guess i think that because i've seen the threats out there and want to prevent any threats liek that for the future generations to come.

Is it okay for you to cry? When was the last time you cried?

the last time i cried was when i was giving birth. normally i dont see it as okay for me to cry, i project myself as a strong person. crying somewhat upsets that persona.

What do you think is wrong with MOST people, overall?

That people can sometimes be out for themselves and just themselves. personal success doesnt mean jack if you clambered over a mountian of people to do it. because later on that mountain will rise up together to push you right off.
________

Miscellaneous Questions

On you go.

What is the thing that has frightened you most? Do you think there is anything out there that's scarier than that? What do you think that would be?

My bond mate came close to death at one point. i tried to stop it and failed miserably. i was worried that when i recovered he wouldent be there. i was scared id failed at protectign somethign i loved. i dont think theres anythign out there thats more frightenign than that to me.

Has anyone or anything you've ever cared about died? How did you feel about it? What happened?

Yes. and i felt about as much greif as anyone who ever has a person or pet they love die. it's a personla thign though. The specific event that comes to mind is a grandperent of mine who died, he was a great source of strength for everyone. laughing joking and giving sage advice when it was needed. unfortuantly a car accident took him away from us all. wasent anyones fault really. but it hit the family hard

What was the worst injury you've ever received? How did it happen?

I think i mentione it before. it was when i was younger and fell out of a tree. dislocated every joint in my right leg and hung upside down for an hour on it. i've never felt as pained in an injury like that since.

How ticklish are you? Where are you ticklish?

i am tickilish, behind my ears and under my arms seem to be the best places to disslove me into a giggle fit.

What is your current long term goal?

Bring my kits up right, See them off on their own lives and retire somewhere nice.

What is your current short term goal?

To lay the groundwork for the previous question. so far it's lookign good.

Do you have any bad habits? If so, what are they, and do you plan to get rid of them?

If im in a bad mood i can snap at people and i think my worst habit is continuing to act in a fairly millatristic way even in my personal life. i plan to try and easy myself oof the "stiff Tail" attitude as Tawara puts it sometimes.

If you were a mundane person, what would you do with your life? What occupation would you want, and how would you spend all your time?

i wouldent change who i am now for anything. im perfectly happy with the way thigns are for me right now.

What time period do you wish you had lived in? Why? What appeals to you about this era? Looking at this as an attempt to change history doesn't count.

ehh if i really had to choose id say the "Kyto" era of Naviara. As long as i could brign tawara of course. I like the peace that era enjoyed and the buildign style. all of it sounds so relaxing and spiritual.

How private of a person are you? Why?

I think im a pretty private person to most people. Probably because im used to keeping quiet about orders or fleet information.

If you were to gain an obscenely large sum of money (via an inhertiance, a lawsuit, a lottery, or anything else) what would you do with it?

I think id put most of it into a trust fund for my kits. then pay off some minor thigns that are always a problem.

What would you wish for if you found a genie?

Big question to ask. i think id wish to be there when my kits first walked and spoke.

What do you do when you are bored?

Go to the shootign range. knit or finish off problematic paperwork.

What is the most frightening potential handicap or disfigurement you can conceive of? What makes it so frightening?

Getting a full body paralasis or having myself lose my mind. in both cases i cant do anythign to stop the situation. it'll be comletely out of my control.

[Greater Hancock]

[ MT ]

Some thoughts are better...
by
Mikhal Ilmenzy of Dymundhelm

The wind is blowing like it is winter. The sun is beginning its creeping rise, but nothing is showing color in the presence of the horrific light. Not even the suburban torches of street lights or the abodes of the early birds. Only black and gray. He could have sworn that he could still see piles of dead leaves everywhere. The Cold still followed him, even as he stepped out of his most recent bed companion's house. The passion of grinding and sweating bodies performing a natural dance of hormonal lust was now only an emotionally empty and regrettably displeasing memory. Of course, though, he'd brag about the whole fiasco as if it was some great accomplishment to his circle of "associates". Recent and historical events always made him question truly calling them "friends". The "great victory exemplifying the Circle's creed" was to be boasted about. It wasn't just customary for this group of young men, but also for most of the post-pubescent male population. For other "men", though, he was sure their stories and exploits were probably genuinely enjoyable. His, though, were something different entirely. Considering his carnal conquests successful seemed to be a great falsehood.

He finally gets home and he begins the traditional and long process of thinking about any number of things. He occasionally whispers, "Some thoughts are better..."

He never finishes the spoken thought. It is not clear to him whether he is too scared to or if he just doesn't know how it ends. At one point he begins to think he just has a morbid fascination and preference for the cryptic phrase because of the acronym he could make from it. He pulls down the World Geography book from the shelf above his laptop. It is not really a book, but rather a simple three-digit-coded safe. He turns the dials at the front of the safe to the correct sequence of numbers. The numbers, 6-8-6, give him some strange, unrecognizable comfort. He'll never know why. He pulls out the pocket knife from the pile of change and bills he stashed from his "thieving" mother. The blade is considerably dull, but some dark instinct tells him it will have to do. A familiar, blood-curdling chill overwhelms him. It takes control of every muscle, bone, and nerve in his body. His movements are jerky as he points the blade slowly toward his gut. His arms are shaking crazily. Tears and sobs push his entire body forward. The Cold whispers maniacally into his ears, "S...t...a...b..."

Reason, or rather, lack of it, stops the blade at the last moment. The blade's tip simply pokes him slightly, tickling the layer of fat. He throws the knife back into the safe, slams it shut, turns the dials away from the sequence, and doesn't look at the thing for the rest of the night. Instead, he claws out the dried up tears and wipes away the snot. Disgusting pile of hopeless shit was what he thought as he caught a glimpse of his reflection on the top of his laptop. To escape the image, he opens up his laptop. Tonight, it'd be his only relief. The music on DymundMhuzik Radio only seemed to blend together tonight. So, for some God-forsaken reason, he goes to TalkHub. He goes to Notes and clicks on the "+Write a Note" button as if it was the key to happiness (It never has been and never will be, by the way). He immediately begins typing the first thoughts that come to his mind. The thoughts and words seem to flow smoothly and in-sync. He hadn't experienced this feeling in so long. It was liberating. At least it was, until he remember why he began writing the Note in the first place.

That girl he had just had sex was probably already regretting what she had done an hour or so ago. He could not blame her for it. "Friends with benefits". He didn't have feelings for her, but he lamented over the fact that once again, all he was was a friend. Eventually, he would learn he was more like a brother to her. Same shit, different day was the synopsis of his train of thought for a few moments. He then began to think about how big of a disappointment he was to his parents, his sisters, his entire family, his teachers, his friends, et cetera et cetera. Then, he thought Fuck 'em.

How dare they question why he took those pills when everyone else he loved probably didn't give two shits about him, and if they did, they only cared about what he might become?!
How dare they question why he got drunk so often when he was always under the pressure of outdoing himself and others at every possible point?!
How dare they question why he smoked cigarettes when every year, every semester, every nine weeks, every month, every week, every day, every minute was when "IT COUNTED" for him?!
How dare they question why he wanted to rap and talk like that when it was the only thing that gave him pure happiness?!
How dare they question why he tried to smother himself when he couldn't sleep at night, which was when his demons seemed to surface incessantly?!
How dare they question why he tried to cut and stab himself when he thought physical pain was more tolerable than the emotional and mental self-mutilation and daily torture?!
How dare they question why he put the gun to his head whenever possible when he thought death was the only true release?!
How dare they question why he nearly overdosed so many times when he always thought that the numbness and fatalism was the only way to make it through another day?!

It was done. The revelations were made, but the remedy wasn't found. So he went back to the bottle, which he stuffed with thoughts and feelings 'til cracks could became visible in its interior. Then, he threw the bottle at a wall in a tantrum of rage, a protracted verse of battle rap, and another catastrophe of a night with his "associates". Finally, he calms himself down and thinks reluctantly that it is time to go back to bed.

Some thoughts are better... Some aren't... And some are necessary.

[Astrolinium]

[ MT ]

Mario and the Dolphins
from “Childhood Legends of the Sitari Subcontinent”, collected by Paul Srevjik

Once upon a time, in the little kingdom of Astrolinium, there were no dolphins in the bay, and only octopuses.
One morning, a young boy named Mario was walking out by the bay when he decided to swim out to a sandbar in the mouth of the bay. He had been told that it was dangerous to do this, but he was a brave boy who didn’t fear anything.
So Mario stripped and entered the water, and then he began to swim out towards the sandbar.
He swam and he swam, and soon he grew tired.
Looking around, Mario saw that he was about halfway out to the sandbar. Too far away to make it to his goal, and too far out to turn back towards shore.
The tired young boy nervously began to tread water when suddenly he felt something tug at his ankle!
Before he could even scream, Mario was dragged under and found himself face to face with a giant octopus.
The Octopus cackled and said, “At last, at last, a little boy to fill my empty tummy! I’ll eat you up and grind your bones and it will be so yummy!”
And Mario could only scream and wiggle as the Octopus opened its beak and pulled the boy in.
As he screamed, God¹, who sees all things, was watching him.
God knew that He could not let a good little boy such as Mario be eaten by an Octopus.
And so, just as Mario felt the Octopus’s hot breath on his head, he heard a strange squeaking sound which he had not heard before.
Out of the depths of the waters charged a herd of dolphins. The dolphins attacked the Octopus, tearing Mario from its grasp. Then, as one dolphin carried Mario to shore, the rest chased the beast out to sea².
And that is why today dolphins are ever present in the Bay of Astrolinium, keeping a watchful eye on brave young children who have swum out further than they ought to.

Footnotes
¹ Different versions of the tale may instead say the Sun, Jupiter, or Divine Fortune. Attempts to discern which appeared in the original version of the tale have been inconclusive.
² There is substantial evidence to suggest that here the modern legend differs drastically from the original. In my talks with the locals of the island, many of the eldest generation recalled that, when told the story as young children, the story ended with Mario’s death. In that version of the tale, the dolphins became custodians of the bay in an attempt to repent for their inability to save Mario.

[Kylarnatia]

[PT]

[Mature]

[St. James Infirmary]

Snooks Eaglin - St. James Infirmary

London, 1920

Two gentlemen sat quietly at a bar side by side, consuming the poisonous fluid which they purchased continuously as the time flew by. They said nothing to each other, both of them a complete contrast of the other. The gentleman on the right, was tall, well dressed and had fair hair, and he would occasionally reach into his pocket and pull out a fine silver pocket watch and check the time, for the clock which hung on the wall above a set of tables occupied by people was hidden, due to the smoke of their cigars and cigarettes, and the dull tones which signalled the hour drowned out by their ceaseless laughter at things that were irrelevant. The gentleman, who was annoyed by the noise, sighed as he finished checking the time and put the pocket watch back in his finely laced pocket. One could tell, sitting right up close, that he was rich and well educated.

The gentleman on the left, however, was not so finely dressed or presented. His hair was scruffy, his facial hair especially rough, and his teeth were a slight yellow. His clothes were loose and dirty, as if they had been worn for days and not washed. If one looked they would be able to tell that the gentleman on the left was wearing military attire, a uniform fit for a Captain of the Great War, which had ended only two years earlier and still hung heavily over everyone, perhaps why the little pub in the large old London town was so heaving, because everyone had come to drown out their sorrows. Though not everyone in the pub would have been able to notice the attire the more scruff man gentleman was wearing, due to the fact that he wore his long brown trench coat.

Both gentlemen drank some more without saying anything to each other, only taking notice of one another when they called for the bar tender. The gentleman on the right, after some time, checked his pocket watch again, though as he tried to put it away the gentleman on the left grabbed his arm and held it still as he looked over at the time. He then looked at the man who had sat beside him, without saying so much as a word, and released the gentleman's arm. The well presented fellow was distraught, to say the least, that this stranger had physically grabbed his arm to stop him from putting his prized time teller away, just so he could check the time, instead of just asking for the time. Thinking of what he was going to say, the gentleman then took in a breath of the polluted air, almost spluttering, as he tried to get the attention of the Captain.

"Excuse me, sir." The well dressed gentleman started, "Why did you find it necessary to do such a thing when you could have just asked me what the time was?"

Knowing that he now had to come out of his private thoughts to talk with the man to his right, the soldier was at first reluctant to say anything. He took a glimpse at the man, looking him over for a brief second before turning his attention back to the pocket watch which the gentleman still held in his hand. Looking at it with sharp eyes, the man took notice of the decoration on the pocket watch, and after doing so looked at the man straight in the eyes to talk to him, his own eyes now showing a glimmer of life.

"General Staff, I see?" The Captain chuckled, "What a bunch of fucking pussies you were."

The well dressed man seemed to retort in horror. "I beg your pardon? That language is unnecessary. We both served our country equally."

"Oh, yes, of course we did." The soldier shot a glance back at the man, "While you were sat behind a desk, scratching your ass with your pencil, I sat in a hole fifty miles in front of you, with a hundred or so other men, knee-deep in water and constantly under fire from the enemy. That is definitely equal. Now leave me in my pit of sorrow..."

The well dressed gentleman now seemed more confused then shocked. The soldier he'd just spoken to had shown such a fiery resolve when arguing with him, but was then quick to return to a state of, what seemed to be, mourning. Did he still mourn his lost comrades? Was he at wits end? What had he lost? The soldier didn't stay in his pit long before seeing that the man beside him was still in shock. He coughed, violently and almost on purpose as if to be rude, before standing and preparing to make his way into the tables of people and the fog of cigar and cigarette smoke. Though before he could disappear, he could feel something enter his free hand. He looked down to see a roll of bank notes, which he could not estimate the total value of from just looking at it alone. He then looked to the well dressed gentleman, where the money had obviously come from.

"It seems like you need it, soldier." The man answered him before he could question why. The soldier chuckled.

"I do not need your charity, you--"

"The names Arthur, Arthur Teignbridge. Yours?"

Now the soldier was the one who was surprised. This man, who had identified himself as Arthur Teignbridge, was no longer in a state of shock but in one of sympathy, even after the insult he'd received. Why would his mood suddenly change? The soldier could not tell, but after taking a look at the roll of money, he sat back down next to Arthur. He looked at the money some more, before putting it on the counter and rolling it in the direction of his new found associate. Arthur took it back and put it into his coat again, but still awaited a response from the soldier. Finishing his drink, the soldier finally replied to his question.

"My name is...not important. I'm undeserving of everything, for all I do is cut it, and myself, down." The soldier did not look at Arthur, but at the bottom of his glass, as if that was the entrance to his pit of despair. He thought himself crazy for opening up to a stranger he'd just met and had insulted only moments ago, but therapy could be found in the most strangest of places. Although the soldier did not want this therapy, deep down he felt like he was being told this was good for him.

"Alright then, soldier, what have you lost that is making you retreat to this pit of sorrow of which you speak?" Arthur asked.

"Everything." Was the soldiers immediate reply, though before Arthur could make any more inquiries of his own the soldier turned fully towards him, and began to tell his story.

"I return home after being given a weeks leave from the army, for I was still based in France after the war to assist with the clean up. My intention is to see my girl, the one who gave me the strength to fight. She has been taken down to St. James they all said, she fell ill. So I went down to St. James Infirmary, and saw my girl there, stretched out on a long white table. She was so cold, but still so sweet and fair..."

Arthur listened, but didn't interrupt as the soldier took a moment to think of his next words.

"Let her go, let her go, god bless her was what the vicar preached at the funeral. I go back to France early, still with my small amount of money which I was payed for my service. I was going to use it to take her out to dinner, like I had promised. Yet I went to Paris instead, and blew it all on the finest whores I came across, though they could never give me the pleasure she could. Having been found out, I was discharged from the army and sent back here. I had to return to St. James, not because of memories there, but because I have the clap. I never knew it could ever become so difficult to take a piss..."

"I'm sorry, soldier..." Arthur looked the gentleman up and down again, personally not surprised that he had what was commonly known as the clap. Yet he felt sorry for him, for his contracted disease and most importantly his lost love. The soldier looked over at Arthur and pulled a devious grin, something that Arthur did not expect.

"It's alright, mate, for I know one thing..." He paused, "...the pute who gave it to me can look the whole world over, but she'll never find a man with as big a penis as me!"

[-Deus-]

[MT]

Journey to the West

---

---

The helicopter blades, bleeding into a screaming, grey carousel as it spun, seemed to make waves of rippling energy travel throughout the green and orange canopy of the forest as if to tell the ancient, forgotten trees that it's sons and daughters had returned. This was the real life and I felt as if I had just woken up from a dream, a dream where I had been a black-skinned robot in a gleaming world of silver and platinum. Yet here, among the living world, the breathing forest and whispering rocks, I felt...alive.

I sat in the middle between Nathan and some medical assistant called Sammie. We sat in that cold, synthetic orifice, aliens in the organic world. Even so it felt like the trees beckoned and called to us, lost sons and daughters of old that had traded in the protection and love of the forest for the efficiency and advancement of the hut, town and city. I choked on my own spit as the helicopter shook and rattled, slowly descending to the ground like a mechanical bird.

I shot a look at my friend Nathan, who sat at my right side. I must have looked anxious because he shot me a knowing wink and smile, flashing white teeth against black skin. In fact, as I looked around at the others within the helicopter, I knew for sure I was the lightest. I was always the lightest, the whitest...the one with nappy reddish-brown hair and cold blue eyes. Justice Aldarmen, the oreo, the mule, the mixed breed, the freak.

As we touched the soil, the forest seemed to hum, murmuring as if to spread the gossip among the flowers, trees, rocks and animals. The blades came to a stop slowly and then all at once they seemed to stop and I momentarily forget their presence. I was instead captivated by the lush, green city before me, the beat of the forest like that of a complex drum. I took multiple photos, my camera hot around my neck after all was said and captured.

And then, as quickly as that sense of harmony and peace had come, it was gone, choked and strangled out of existence as the Expedition began setting up camp, the shrill yelling of a woman fueling the chaos as men scurried all around like small rodents, unpacking and repacking, building and breaking, clearing and cutting until small specs of civilization began to appear. I found my friend Nathan standing on the outskirts of camp and I couldn't help but realize that his blank look of resignation covered the same amazement I felt as we looked on at the seemingly unending cascade of wilderness and primal beauty. This was the journey west.

[Abruzi]

The Men of Forge 109

FT

“Burn it hot lad, the rate you're going we'll not be done before shift end.”

Despite the blazing heat of the furnace, the man who spoke was able to appear perfectly comfortable. His skin may have been a bit wrinkled, his eyes a bit weary, and his skin an unhealthy gray color, but overall he appeared to be in top of the line condition. The man he spoke to on the other hand was completely out of his depth, a life of easy living had ensured that his skin was soft and healthy, a hindrance down here in Forge 109. It was horribly hot and the second man found that when he opened his mouth to reply to the first, his breath was taken away by the roaring heat.

“Ah let me do it lad, I've lived my whole life down here in the Forge, I'm no stranger to it's jobs.”

With little more than a grunt the first man raised the long pike-shovel and deposited the load of coal directly into the center of the conflagration’s heart. Greedily the fires grew to accommodate the newly deposited fuel and already the machines above sounded a bit healthier. Great stamping devices that were forever set to producing rifles, for what purpose it was unknown, the Voice told them all was well and that peace had finally been brokered in the Western Fringe. The Voice also told them that they were soon to receive a reward for their honest labor through the war, though that was another matter entirely. Either way, peace or no peace, the guns were still being made.

Almost as if by design the shift alarm went off just as the machines above began to resume production, evoking a relieved sigh from the obvious newcomer and only a deep laugh from the old hand. Together the two filed into the lines of other Workers as they headed out of Forge 109 and towards the massive Embrace Complex. Where the Forge was a mighty though standard industrial structure, the Embrace was truly monolithic, rising as a perfect cube for hundreds of meters into the overcast sky. Uniformly gray like the rest of the structures outside of the Heart District. Smiling tightly the first man led the second into the well light but strangely comfortless interior of the Embrace.

The first sight one got was a strange one, fifty thousand people eating in an unimaginably vast auditorium typically was unsettling. It took several minutes but the unease grew when the beholder realized that it was also completely silent. Conversation while eating was not forbidden, but it had a strange way of never materializing while the Voice was speaking, and the Voice was always speaking within the confines of the Embrace. Shuffled into two long lines, the Workers received a tasteless gray mush that was packed into a simple tube. Said to contain all of the vitamins necessary for perfect health, it had no official designation outside of, Nourishment Product 1 despite the fact that the majority of the population would never see Nourishment Products 2 or 3.

Together the Workers of Forge 109 were seated at a mile long table and without much in the way of ceremony began to hungrily suck on their Nourishment Product-Tubes. Smiling the first Worker who was the old hand fished his Ration Voucher and slid it across the table to the second man. At a loss as to what he was supposed to do with it, the second man nodded, only for the first to respond with a laugh. Still hungrily sucking on his Tube the first man tapped the small box that read, “Name: Adam Jay Smith. Designation: Forge Worker. Years of Service to the Republic: 47.” Nodding slower the second man fished out his own still new Ration Voucher and handed it over. It read, “Name: Simon Lewis. Designation: Forge Worker. Years of Service to the Republic: .1.”

Adam Jay Smith shrugged and slide back the voucher, extending his hand across the table after Simon Lewis pocketed the bit of laminated paper. The two shook hands and silently screamed, “Pleased to meet you”. Lost in the masses of Workers, the two men failed to notice that for the first time in hours the Voice had paused. It was a silence that was brief, only ten seconds at the most, but in that time the entire hall looked up to the seemingly unending row of monitors that ringed the upper tiers of the Embrace. Gone was the usual Patriotic Posters or Triumphant Images replaced instead by an obviously high ranking member of the, Republican Army.

Staring down upon the masses of Workers, the Officer said nothing for a few moments before slowly beginning,

“Brothers and Sisters, we have been deceived. Peace has fallen in the West only for our triumphant armies in the Northern Plains to come under assault by our supposed allies the [i]Neilas. Their numbers are many and I will be honest with you my siblings, we must strike back with the tenacity that comes from the knowledge that if we fail, our Republic will fail. As such I must announce that Forges 109, 110, 111, 112, and 113 are Mobilized as the 19th Regiment of the Republican Army. Take heart Brothers, we will destroy the invaders and lead our Republic to glory! That is all.”[/i]

With a flicker the screen returned to it's usual mixture of Patriotic Images and the Voice. Unlike before however the massive chamber was not cloaked in silence, for once they talked over the Voice.

***

Smoke drifted over the lines from the burning industrial fields that flanked the elevated highway. Forges that were comparable to Forge 109 were burning, their machines coming to pieces beneath the sustained fire of the 19th Regiment's Armored Company. They came apart gracefully, huge chunks sliding off and crushing the hundreds of Housing Complexes that clustered in the shadow of the massive Forges. In the wake of the metallic beasts of war came the smoke spewing trucks that carried the men of the 19th Regiment closer to their enemy.

Both Adam Smith and Simon Lewis were aboard one of these trucks, staring at the devastation their Brothers sowed amongst the enemy's positions through grime clouded lenses. Suited up in constricting Toxic Material Suits and near blinded by Gasmasks, they gazed in wonder upon the forces of destruction that their Republic possessed. Similar however was the looks of fear as the news that the enemy possessed the same weapons and were using them on other fronts. This was truly a war between fraternal societies and for every blow they struck upon the enemy a blow was dealt to their own advance.

From the west a great gust of wind came, one that was tinged with the acrid stink of warfare. Like it was propelled by the breath of the Gods, the haze obscuring the closest Forge was dispelled. What Simon, Adam, and the other men of their Regiment saw took their breath away. Hidden by the haze, an enemy artillery battery had been able to sight in it's guns upon the highway and commanded an easily defensible position in the rubble. Now that they had eyes upon their targets, the enemy's guns fired and the salvo of high explosive shells killed several of the Regiment's Tanks outright. There were more mobility kills, and an entire chunk of the roadway toppled to the ground as it was blasted free.

Adam flung himself from the truck and immediately readied his rifle. Snapping a clip into the magazine well the older man flipped off the safety lever and turned to look at the other survivors. Simon, the formerly easy living Socialite turned Forge Worker tried to mimic Adam's serenity but fumbled over the safety lever. In a similarly haphazard manner the rest of the survivors from their truck fell into place around Adam who quickly shouted up to their Section Leader. After several additional minutes the flustered Section Leader stood over them, braving the incoming artillery rounds and small arms fire that was beginning to fall like rain. Stooped over Adam the man shouted, “Brother Smith, get your Siblings into range of those guns and mark them for our Older Brothers in the 10th Armored!

Adam saluted before turning to his men, together they rose and sprinted off down the ramp that lead to the elevated highway. Despite the incoming rounds their spirits were high, together they were in the thick of it defending their Republic and it didn't hurt that they were about to allow the massive war-machines of the 10th to enter the fray. Slinking through the rubble now that they were on solid ground, Adam waved forward their squad's sniper Anton who hastily began climbing one of the partially ruined shacks that lined the roadway. After several minutes of climbing the man produced a small laser from his pack and designated the closest of guns for destruction.

There was a brief pause and then from behind the lines of the advancing Republican Army came a distant wail that grew into a powerful vibration. It was a sound that could not be denied, it was the warhorn of one of the very few but very powerful, Warlord Class Titans. With mighty steps it entered into view and slowly traversed it's upper body to target the artillery position. Three unbelievably bright spears of light connected the Titan with the guns for an instant before a devastating explosion tore them apart. Adam and his Brothers were coated in a fine coating of ash, probably cancerous, and surely the remnants of the poor souls crewing the artillery they had just designated.

Wiping the silt from his eyes, Adam smiled and said to his Brothers,

“Well my friends, we sure showed them eh?”

Nervous laughter greeted him and for a moment they only sat quietly. In that moment Simon realized the sheer absurdity of the current situation. Laughing until he was breathless the man finally was able to say,

“Did you know only five months ago I was an inhabitant of the Heart District?”

His fellows laughed in response, only to be interrupted by their Section Leader who happened upon them with the remnants of their Platoon. Waving them to their feet the disheveled Officer nodded in respect of their recent achievements but briskly said,

“Come on boys, we still have miles upon miles to go.”

[United World Order]

---

As The War Machine Keeps On Turning...
PMT

---

"Hurry up with that ammunition belt, those bastard Rastonians are closing in"

The air smelt of smoke and rotten corpses and sweaty aging men. The trench line was full of such smells, with some bodies still rotting just being left sitting against the inner trench walls as rats and insects had there feast. Raging fires and the continuous bursts of gunfire from assault rifles and machine guns were constant. A soldier rushing out of a small enclave within the trench line with a ammunition belt hung over his neck as he ducked his head below and rushed towards the awaiting soldier manning his MG312 machine gun. He blew smoke from his cigarette as he took the belt off his shoulders and passed it on to a soldier looking on to the fields before them, corpses littered these fields and they still came in droves they did. The Rastonians were lightly jogging through the fields with artillery shells blowing there ranks to pieces and machine guns and assault rifles battered there numbers even more.

They had been at it for several hours, dark black smoke clogged the air from all the burning vehicles the rastonians had deployed in there initial assault. Mostly armored vehicles and jeeps fitted with 50.cal machine guns but they were no match for the AT weaponry and support MBTs the trench line defenders had in there possession. The men inside the trench had not bathed for several days since deploying here a week ago. The Rastonians they had guessed were far worse shape they were in. The roar of more armored vehicles was heard as through the mist of war on those very fields they came. Suddenly a shrieking sound came from the fields as some of the armored vehicles which were equipped with TOW missile launchers fired off. They streaked through the air above the trenches towards the MBTs, some missed most made there marks.

A cluster of explosions erupted from behind the trenches, several of the support MBT's had been damaged with debris from the tanks flying in the air all around them. The gunfire from the Rastonians had picked up now as they were slowly advancing with there armored vehicles. The defenders in the trenches braced the barrage of bullets as they in turn fired back with all they had. Men began dropping like flies from both sides, one man dies here another one there. The Rastonian vehicles with there machine guns sprayed the trenches which was where the casualties were mounting from. AT rocket launchers were being passed around to some of the defenders in the trenches, immediately streaks from the rockets being propelled by the defenders were hitting there marks and turning the tides of this battle.

One by one the armored vehicles rolling through the fields were blowing up every few seconds an AT user would launch his rocket. The Rastonians who were desperately using these vehicles for cover, were finding themselves blown to oblivion or shredded to pieces by the shrapnel. The trench defenders almost felt bad for these hopeless soldiers trying to surge into there trench line, with the equipment and tactics they had it would be better to retreat and lick there wounds then keep sending more men to the meat grinder.

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In the dead of night it was all quiet on the front, the crickets chirped here and there and the mosquitoes and flies had there midnight feast on the rotting corpses littered in the field. The trenches were still being manned with night watches being made with people rotating every few hours or so. The Rastonians were in there camps several miles away, most asleep and only few on watch. The barrels of hundreds of Artillery pieces and self propelled guns were being raised in unison. There would be no sleep for the enemy, only death. Then it had begun, they sounded off large massive booms like thunder going off in the distance. The flashes of the shells hitting there targets could be seen by the men in the trenches as they awoken to see what was going on.

During the barrage a whistle was sounded, a piercing whistle sounded off as the trench defenders picked up there weapons and began assembling in the trench, taking there positions. The Artillery continued to pound away at the Rastonians who were now in a panic trying to get in cover from the artillery barrage faced upon them. "Those Rastonian bastards are getting what they deserved" someone muttered as the Artillery then ceased all at once. It went silent as the soldiers in the trenches wondered what was going to happen now. Suddenly MBT's and support armored vehicles from the rear were pulled up in front of the trench scattered in the field. Troops were rushing into the support armored vehicles as the armored strike force took off towards the camp.

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They had only a short amount of time to mount a defense after suffering at the hands of such a massive artillery barrage just minutes ago. They're numbers were few and they were scattered around what was left of there camp. The roaring approach of the MBTs and support armored vehicles was something that now scared the daylights out of them. Their officers shouted and yelled, Hold your positions!, do not show fear!. The support armored vehicles soon came to a halt several yards away as Troopers poured out from the vehicles and began taking up positions in front of the MBTs and armored vehicles. A man wearing a red beret on his head and sporting all black camouflage fatigue clothing holding a bullhorn stood in front of them.

"Rastonian scum, lay down your arms and surrender before Unitedia's might and be spared. Refuse and fight against us, you and your comrades will be assimilated"

He let the statement he made set in for several seconds, and suddenly gunfire erupted killing some of the troopers behind him as he dropped his bullhorn and retreated as the troopers returned fire. The support armored vehicles and MBT's machine guns opened up on the Rastonians who were dropping like flies and begin torn to shreds. Within seconds the Rastonians who were holding there ground were now scattering to flee from the overpowering firepower put on them by the Unitedians. They left droves of there comrade's corpses behind from the short firefight as some who were scattered about periodically fired back as the Unitedians advanced slowly foward, the troopers kept a look out for any wounded Rastonians, if such were found they would be immediately executed with a bullet to the back of there neck.

The remaining Rastonians who fled soon regrouped and made another hopeless but slightly more effort defensive line, whatever armored vehicles they had left were in this last ditch attempt to halt the Unitedian advance. The advance soon came head on with the new desperate Rastonian defensive line. Intense gunfire was being exchanged from both sides, it was almost like a modernized remake of a 16th century line battle but without muskets which were replaced by assault rifles and machine guns of different calibers. The Rastonian armored vehicles supported by infantry soon advanced, somehow thinking foolish enough they'd try and push them back. The barrels of the MBTs were brought to bear on them as flashes of orange light from the MBT's HE rounds impacting and destroying the armored vehicles one by one, like a turkey shoot.

The Rastonians now having lost all armor support within a few minutes, they were ordered for a suicide charge against the enemy. A tactic commonly done by doomed past armies in Rastonia when the Unitedians were upon them. They fixed there bayonets and held there shovels and assorted rifles and blunt objects and rushed towards the Unitedians, both sides separated by several yards as the Rastonians charged forward. The troopers aimed there rifles and machine guns as they waited for the right moment, as the rastonians got closer and closer. It was all over within several seconds of concentrated fire from the troopers and the MBTs and armored vehicles that the remains of the Rastonian force was littering the grass, blood stained the ground in many spots. The Unitedian troopers advanced again looking for survivors and shooting them in the back of the neck.
The War Machine Kept Turnin'