NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere in the Outer Rim Colonies

The giant interstellar yacht opened one of it's giant cargo holds, five-hundred-meter siege-plated doors moving ponderously aside to deliver the FieldMarshal's personal landing craft – a large gravitic spaceplane modelled externally upon the DC-9's of Twentieth Century North America.

The continent below has been a DREAD testing range for years, virtually uninhabitable by now, pockmarked with giant craters from weapons fire, littered with the remains of test platforms and targets. Even now, as the landing craft was still in low orbit, a new flash appeared below.

It was enormous, over two hundred kilometers across, a glowing maelstorm of flame. Up above the clouds, Alexander Kazansky grinned merrily as he watched the blast fireball rise, and then hang in mid-air as the reaction continued, minute after terrible minute, boiling away layers of rock within seconds – for almost forty minutes.

“What the hell was that horror, Alex?” - Kazansky's apprentice asked. - “I've never seen any like it.”

“It's a teraton-yield explosion, Shiunji.” - seeing the explosion has clearly cheered the Founder up. - “Down we go. It's safe now.”

The gravitic spaceplane went down, circling a small outcropping of what seemed to be black rock on the northern edge of the continent. As the DC-9GS set up to land, it became clear what the 'rock' really was – it was a bunker entrance.

Soon enough, the heavy blast door opened to welcome the Allanean leader into the deepest folds of the planet.

“Greetings, Sir!” - a uniformed DREAD operative sprang to attention as Kazansky went by, Shiunji in tow.

“I do not trust the elevators in DREAD buildings.” - Alex winked - “Damned science boys always screw about with them. We will take the stairs.”

“But, Alex -” - Shiunji tried to voice a complaint - “It's twenty levels down!”

“Yes. We need to move faster. Come now.”

They went on, their black clothing almost unnoticeable against the black granite of the walls. Those who recognized them as they went, saluted them and clicked their heels. Sometimes they weren't recognized. Alexander didn't care either way.

* * *

The Secretary for Research, Evolution, And development was wearing a white shirt – complete with blue tie and pocket protector – blue pants, and immaculate dancing shoes, thrown right on his work desk. Before him were several screeens, the main one taking up most of the wall of his underground chamber.

He did not rise when Kazansky entered. “Hello, Sasha. I have a toy for you.”

“So you said, Reijiro.”

“Here. Computer, open filename Scepter dot arr-enn-dee.”

The main screen dimmed, then showed, in magnificient green over black, the words PROJECT SCEPTER. Next to appear was a wireframe demonstration of a strange, elongated device.

“What?” - Kazansky started, but then, scale numbers appeared next to the wireframe graphic, demonstrating the dimensions of the object.

“It's how big?”

“It will be the biggest military vessel in United States Service. Though it's not much of a vessel per se.”

“It looks like a Galaxy Gun to me, but why so fucking huge?”

“Well, I decided to use less efficient systems then what you may see the Imperials using to achieve the same thing – most because I included far more redundancy. The computers will be high-grade Uploadee computronium if they let us use it. Which, you know, them being the Uploadees...”

“Is not guaranteed. But I sense a much bigger 'but'.”

“Indeed. While maintaining this weapon will cost us a mere fifty billion dollars a year, it's construction is far more expensive than anything that Congress is ever liable to approve.”

“How much?”

Reijiro named the sum. There was a pause.

“Well,” - Kazansky smiled, “there's always me.”

“You?”

“The scam money. It will now come in useful now, won't it?”

“You will finance a planetkiller from your private funds?”

“Yes, Reijiro Techno, yes, yes, yes! I will finance this one maddest project of your mad projects yet, and I will not falter, and I will give you all the support you need – and the Queen of Allanea will receive the Scepter of which She is truly worthy.”

Reijiro's eyes burned in a truly mad glow now. He gripped Kazansky's hand so hard now that his knuckles grew white. “You will do this for me, Sasha?”

“No.”

There was a pause.

“For Her Majesty, the Queen, I will do this. And remember, Reijiro – only through Her Service do you get to put your works of art into steel, duralloy, and computronium. Serve Her well, and my reward shall be certain. Fail Her, and so will be my wrath.”

Home of Many, Mars Orbit

One of the many Allanean freighters in Mars orbit swiveled an antenna towards the Home of Many, and sent out a secure transmission to it. It read:

We require your aid for a project of high concern to Allanean national security. Should you agree, we will take those of you who wish to participate to a far-off system, there to participate in sensitive techological development.

May God bless you all.

An Uploadee, whose name to the Allaneans would look like a string of consonants and sound like three syllables pronounced at the same time answered the message.


Efficiency to your servers,

without any data on the project I can not broadcast your request without breaching netiquette. Please edit your request.

Stlvtrtnĵlkn

DREAD research chamber Omicron, 125 meters below ground level

"You realize that we must tell them, yes?"

"Quite. I did not seriously expect a project of this type to remain hidden for long, and at any rate the very fact that the price of duralloy is currently up half a percent at the Liberty City Exchange should give people clues. I think we should tell them… yes, you're quite right."

Dear Stlvtrtnĵlkn!

We are constructing a weapon of immense firepower, so immense and awesome in its might that the sheer knowledge of the full extent of its strength can crash an unprepared mind. Only those whose psyche is stable and who can be trusted to maintain the secret of the weapon are to be allowed to work on it. Further, we cannot allow its exact nature to become public before the final bit of the code is written and compiled and the last armor plate welded in place.

Yours,
Director Techno.

Honored Director Techno,

I doubt such a project would find a majority in the general assembly. War is more inefficient than diplomatic solutions. I can only tell you that this request will cost you sympathies in the Uploaded network and probably won't be successful.

Yours sincerely,
Stlvtrtnĵlkn

Dear Stlvtrtnĵlkn !

That is only true with those species open to negotiation. The Tyranids, the Zerg, the Ermorian Undead, and many others are not susceptible to these methods and can only be met with cold steel and hot lead.

Yours,
Director Techno.

The Protectorate of the Cerberus Alliance, after careful review of recent intelligence and communications intercepts, would like to offer it's assistance in the form of making construction facilities available within our home system. The Protectorate is also willing to offer financial assistance in this endeavor, and any technology in it's inventory that may allow for the final system to function as well as possible.

In exchange, we only request certain pieces of technological information so that our involvement in this project may go on to improve the defenses of our own nation, as well as to make construction move a bit more smoothly. Some form of treaty declaring that the weapon will not be used against other "civilized" nations such as ourselves or the other groups likely to be participating in this effort would also be greatly appreciated.

May this be the beginning of a long friendship between our nations,


Irin Doran
Grand Observer of the Cerberus Alliance

Aboard the SS Miriel nos Feanor

They were two.

Alexander Kazansky and his Opponent.

They wore identical Allanean dueling outfits – white pants, white shirts, heavy combat boots. Kazansky carried a Bowie knife. The Opponent carried a large, traditional cross-guarded dagger decorated with a variety of blades. The Opponent was a Necrontyr male, almost as tall as Kazansky – his face familiar to any reader of an Allanean tabloid about the royal family – and far more nimble and fast.

The battle was almost over.

Kazansky was bleeding – the Opponent got him twice so far – but despite the pain burning through his body and mind, he refused to stop. He pushed onwards, thrusting, hacking, slashing with the large, heavy knife. The Opponent was retreating, slowly, Kazansky advancing, raining down a hail of blows which the former found it more and difficult to parry. But he was still smiling.

“You're going to get tired, boy. Very tired.”

Suddenly, the Opponent was not there, not in the corner Kazansky had almost forced him into. Instead, he was at his side. The FieldMarshal parried what nearly became a third scoring blow.

“I'm faster then you, boy. And I can keep this up longer. You will tire. Then I will destroy your body.”

Suddenly, the Opponent's foot moved in a nearly-imperceptible fashion, like a striking cobra. Kazansky howled in pain as the heavy shoe seemed to have cracked his shin.

“Now... you die. And I go home, to enjoy my...”

Kazansky uncoiled like a spring, jumping at the Opponent. He felt the dagger pierce his body one last time, felt the pain explode his world as blood rushed through his pierced lung, but it didn't matter.

He hit the Opponent like a cannonball, putting his entire body weight behind the first knife-thrust, hacking a rib in half, knocking the man off his feet outright. Then Kazansky was on top of the Opponent and had his hands on his throat, roaring in unlimited fury as he shook his enemy, smashing his head into the floor once, twice, thrice.

The man lived still, his face contorted in an attempted smile – and perhaps he could see the boy's face over his own just as Kazansky withdrew the knife from the wound – and plunged it into the Opponent's eye, destroying half a cheekbone as it went in.

“Enjoy this.” - Kazansky breathed as he crawled off the man's wrecked body.

He didn't quite remember when he broke the Opponent's spine, too. Possibly it was when they landed on the floor. His mind was overwhelmed by pain, his eyes blurry and his field of vision coated in death-red, but it didn't matter.

He heard the Voice. The Voice he could listen to for the rest of his eternal life.

And it spoke.

Simulation Level Maximum, completed successfully. Would you want to replay the final level?

“Negative, Flag, save and exit.”

He got up from his command couch, smiling and healthy, removing the simulator circlet from his head.

“Read me my messages please.”

“Sir, Director Techno reports that the Scepter is at one point three percent completion. Also, the Cerberus Alliance wants to aid in the construction of the Scepter. They wish to offer, among other things, materials and money.”

“Materials and money are good, tell them we will accept such aid, and of course happily share the secrets of the Sceptre.”

The message, the Uploaded Minds sent was a stream in ogg-theora format (with extensions for 3 dimensional graphics). While it was only about 3.1 seconds long in playing time, it contained several video streams, audio channels and one channel for subtitles. A reminder of the different methods of perception, the uploadees have compared to biological units, but also a direct unedited stream from the Uploaded assembly, discussing the Allanean request. If one would read the subtitles carefully (which is not easy since the discussion took some time), it is easy to see the rather low support, the request is getting. It was clear, that the Uploadees not only had problems with the fact that they'd be developing a weapon, but also that they'd be in a place which surely would have high latency and it would not be possible to freely spread information after this trip.

Official Allanean Response

We wish to point out that the basic technological data of this new weapon will become available to the general public when it is ready. While we cannot at the present reveal its function to our friends the Uploadees, this is merely because it is not yet complete. Surely the Uploadees have their own defense secrets.

Significantly approved* Uploaded Minds Response
It is sometimes detrimental to apply human characteristics to a race which differs very much from humans. For us, defense is a matter of everyone and not delegated. Since we are no totalitarian state (how would that be possible without a government?) this means secrecy would be an illusion. Thus such secrecy for us is a sign of lacking participation in government.


*OOC: meaning this topic was not discussed in a full assembly but created by representatives and only a significant amount of Uploadees approved it.

“Oh well.” - sighed Techno as he read the reply. - “See, this iswhy I engineered the Scepter for extra space. Now we have enough place to install Allanean, rather than Uploadee, targeting electronics on it. I want everyone to proceed as scheduled on the project. The station is currently at twenty point five percent completion, we need to get the stuff into place fast!"