Unifederated Systems
07-01-2008, 02:44
OOC: This is the first in two posts that I will write up detailing the start of this thread. After the second installment is posted, likely tomorrow, I would be interested in opening up to diplomatic relations and the like. Hope you enjoy the writing. The only excuse I can give is an enjoyment of Terry Pratchett.
-----
The reign of Emperor Charlie the First began quite suddenly, and quite unexpectedly.
For the last ten years, the Empire of Unifederated Systems, a bizarrely named, pompous little backwater sovereignty that held one planet and its moon within its “victorious Imperial borders” (to quote the Imperial Book of Victory) had stagnated in an ignored and unimportant little solar system that no-one else had bothered to name, but to the natives was known as the Imperia System.
Well, the term “natives” is used somewhat loosely; three centuries earlier, a colony ship launched from Earth took a wrong turn and crash-landed on the third planet from the Imperia star, had found a habitable continent rich with indigenous flora and fauna, along with a sophisticated alien life-form that had obtained technological achievements of the late 20th century. They welcomed the human refugees with open arms, allowing them food and medical attention and offered to allow them a place among their society. Nobody remembers what the species was called because the humans wiped them out within three years.
Following the “Great War of Liberation”, humanity settled across the continent, quickly assimilating the alien technology to their own needs. It did not take long for the three million settlers to start squabbling within each-other, allying themselves to various alliances that sprang up across the continent with a claim staked on various amounts of territory. There was some disagreement on that point.
It took fifteen years for the “Great War of Unification” to mark a clear winner. A self-proclaimed monarch by the dubious title of “Cunning King David the First”, who stood only more cunning than his counterparts in so much that this own forces deciphered the alien language before anyone else, and subsequently learnt how the button worked. A small weapon was detonated over the capital of a rival Kingdom, and all opposition quickly ceased. To ensure no dissent during his own rule, King David quickly decreed that all deposed monarchies would be allowed to keep their wealth and would form Imperial Houses, each with a representative sent to advise the King on matters of state. This was actually particularly smart, as it meant that the Imperial Houses spent at least as much time squabbling with each-other as they did attempting to overthrow their new superior, who quickly declared himself “Emperor of Imperia III” and issued postage stamps to prove it.
And so the peace maintained itself for another thirty years, allowing the new residents of Imperia III to do what humanity seems to do best; reproduce and find new ways of killing each-other. It was the successful development of the Imperial Space Program that paved the way for the settling of Imperia III’s natural satellite, named imaginatively by the new Empire as “Imperia IIIa.” A thriving underground colony was established, mining the natural minerals of IIIa to be sent back to the home world. Emperor David I quickly declared himself Emperor of this as well, and announced the formation of the “great and bountiful” Empire of Unifederated Systems. There was some consternation about the word “system” being used when an advisor, pedantically, pointed out that the Empire only occupied one system, but Emperor David, cunning man as he was, explained that it would save time later on. He also cut off the advisor’s head and had it inserted onto a pike outside the Imperial Palace. Even today, the accusation “pedantic” has much the same result as the label “counter-revolutionary” did in the Soviet Union.
As seems natural in the course of human history, it was not long before people were picking up those shiny new toys of death yet again. Seems that the colonists of Imperia IIIa, deluded as they were (according to the Imperial News Service, at least) seemed to take issue at having their affairs managed by a government that occupied a different spatial body from their own. Declaring themselves the “Free and Independent Republic of Imperia IIIa” (the architects of the revolution were clever but unimaginative people), they formerly informed their former Emperor that his services were no longer required.
What the architects of the “Free and Independent Republic” forgot to take into account was a newly commissioned Gunboat of the Imperial Navy at anchor in high orbit of the moon. The Republic lasted approximately three hours.
After having cleaned up the mess, the Empire re-colonised Imperia IIIa, and in a surprisingly sensible move decided to give the new colonists a degree of freedom in deciding on local issues. However, given that the Imperia IIIa was owned by the Imperial Government, the majority of decisions stayed in the hands of the Emperor and his “advisors.” A military base soon followed the new colony.
And so the next fifty-odd years passed with little in the way of notice. The usual machinations of power behind the scenes of the Imperial Government increased as “Cunning” Emperor David I became “Senile” Emperor David I, who tended to doze off in the middle of cabinet meetings and had to be spoon-fed three times a day. The Emperor had never got about to working out a system of succession, which was causing some degree of nail-biting on the part of each Imperial House. All five Houses, including an Imperial House of David concerned at keeping their place on the throne, began to start looking for allies within the Imperial Military. The leading officers, sprinkled with a few moustache-covered crackpots but generally the more sensible influences on government policy, had always tried to remain “impartial” within civilian politics, which of course translated into “siding with whoever was powerful at the time to get the best deal.” However, the big prize was at stake and whoever backed the winning side would get a lot of wealth and influence from the outcome. The Navy Admirals, still new to their job and breaking in creaking uniforms, suddenly realised they were in sudden demand. The Imperial Navy was seen as particularly crucial to any successful bid for the throne, due to the ridiculous amount of firepower that could be levelled from on-high. This caused a great degree of jealousy on behalf of the Army, who already viewed each-other with the thinly-veiled hatred of two Miss World contestants. As everyone watched the Emperor’s semi-conscious deterioration with bated breath, people picked sides and waited for the outcome.
It would have ended in civil war. The Empire of Unifederated Systems would likely have been torn apart, destroyed in a frenzied war between power-grabbing backstabbers with an eye on that ridiculously ostentatious, solid-gold seat. And, even if the factions had not bombed everyone, including those normal citizens who always seem to get caught in the way of these things, out of existence, it would have set the Empire back in technological and economic terms to the original settlement.
It would have done, except for one unexpected thing.
-----
“Give me your souls, and I will give you victory or death…no, I mean just victory!”
~ Emperor Charles I at the inaugural speech of his reign
-----
The Pride of the Empire sat at high anchor above Imperia III like a pedigree lapdog stretching itself across a prize carpet. At 290 metres long and 130 metres abeam, it was the first of the new Imperium Class Cruisers and the flagship of the Imperial Navy. Designed to replace the ageing Gunboats that still made up the majority of the fleet, the Pride of the Empire was a devastating weapon.
Unfortunately, it was captained by a drunk, incompetent fool with a Napoleon complex.
Captain Charles Emerson Macwillson Winchester Frederickson the Third was, in an ironic contrast, rather short. Standing (just) at five feet and two inches, Frederickson had spent most of his entire life in the Imperial Navy. An aspiring space sailor fresh from six years of intensive labour and one year of officer training, Frederickson had joined the service for the same reason as many other patriotic Imperial citizens; he was running away from his life.
After thirty years in naval service, through a combination of officer purges, luck and a sympathetic relative at Imperial High Command Headquarters, Frederickson had managed to gain the rank of Captain, more to get him out of the way then anything else. After attaining his rank, he had been shuffled from one command to another, mostly filling in on vessels that sat in dry dock whilst the valuable officers were being used for actual work. This combination of partially-recognised and totally-denied personal incompetence, sour feelings towards the High Command and a history of bad loan sharks and even worse lovers had developed Captain Frederickson a bad drinking habit, which left him even further down the list from actual opportunities to command.
As it currently stood, Frederickson was slouching in the command chair of the Pride of the Empire, staring morosely out of the forward viewing screen and contemplating the latest baby-sitting job he had been given. Initially excited and confused at his appointment as Captain of the latest in Imperial death weaponry, his cheery nature and vows of sobriety had been short-lived when Admiral O’Leary personally informed Frederickson that he would be only in command of the skeleton crew until the real Captain arrived for the shakedown cruise following some big honour parade. A bottle of local spirits had quickly followed a bout of swearing that only started once the transmission had been cut.
For three days, Frederickson had wandered aimlessly from his cabin to the bridge and sat in a bored, inebriated mood whilst he awaited relief. On this, the third day, things would take an unexpected turn.
It was around 4pm Imperial time when First Officer Kyle Letworth, a fresh-faced officer on his first posting, stepped onto the bridge with a boundless enthusiasm that still made Frederickson’s stomach turn. In his usual display of complete professionalism, Letworth ran through the basic computer checks required that day, and would normally then turn for the elevator. This time however, he stepped down from the raised area of the bridge and across to the Captain, who was doing his best to ignore Letworth’s presence. “Well, sir.” Letworth beamed.
Frederickson sighed, decided that there was no way to get out of a conversation, and turned to his XO. “Well, First Officer?” he said in a bored tone.
Letworth continued beaming. “Our last day in command, sir,” he said. “The Admirals and the Generals should be at the Imperial Parade…” Letworth checked his watch. “…about now.”
Frederickson smiled in a skewed, sarcastic manner. “Wonderful,” he said in mock-enthusiasm. “Fantastic. Yet another pointless ceremony to stick badges on a group of idiots that do not deserve it.” The Captain brought up his hand, attached to a bottle, and took a swig. “Then, in a few hours, I’ll be bundled off elsewhere,” he muttered. “Fracking marvellous.”
“Please sir, language!” Letworth said in shock. Frederickson ignored him, but Letworth did not seem to recognise this. He stepped across the bridge to stand by the viewer, looking down on Imperia III with patriotic reverence. “I know we’ve done very little, sir,” Letworth continued. “But even so, the chance to be onboard this vessel is an honour.”
Frederickson snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Honour?” he asked dubiously.
Letworth turned and nodded, his face glowing like a proud father. Frederickson almost retched. “Yes sir,” the F.O. – an abbreviation which Frederickson could think of some other words to go with – continued. “State-of-the-art laser cannons, the latest fusion torpedoes, and the first in a line of automated interfaces.”
Frederickson’s interest peaked somewhere under the layers of alcohol. “Automated what?”
Letworth frowned. “Interface, sir,” he said. “Surely you read the briefing papers?”
Frederickson smiled sarcastically. “Remind me,” he said, leaning back.
Letworth continued, looking back at the viewer. “A complete computer-controlled interface, directly controlled by the Commanding Officer,” he said. “In the event of the crew becoming too small, the Captain may assume command if the computer records the crew level as falling below a certain number.”
Frederickson raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he pondered. This pondering gave way to a devious smile. “Well then,” he said, standing (unsteadily) from his chair and walking to the nearest console. “Let’s have a look.”
Letworth turned his head, looking at his C.O. “Ha-What?”
Frederickson leant over the console and squinted. “Computer, access the Automated Interface and access tactical control.”
Letworth balked. “Sir, I-”
Frederickson glared at him. “I did not give you permission to speak,” he snapped. With Letworth silenced, he turned back to the console.
The computer took a moment, and then acknowledged his command. “Please state request,” the male voice said smoothly.
Frederickson grinned. “Computer, prime a two megaton nuclear warhead and fire it at the Imperial Palace in, say, ten seconds time.”
The computer bleeped for a moment. Letworth’s face went completely white. “Request processed, launch in ten seconds. Nine…”
“Sir, permission to speak!” Letworth blurted.
Frederickson turned to Letworth. “Relax,” he said with a grin. “I’m not actually going to blow them up.”
“No sir, I know,” Letworth said again, his face deathly pale. “But please, there’s something you should know.”
“…seven, six…”
Frederickson sighed. “What?” he asked in an annoyed tone.
“There are still some problems with the interface,” Letworth gabbled. “It sometimes locks up.”
Frederickson sighed. “Fine,” he said as he turned back to the console. “Computer, abort request.”
“Request not recognised,” the male voice said in a helpful tone. “Launch in three, two, one, zero.”
The Pride of the Empire rocked slightly on its pitch axis as the torpedo was loosed from its tube. Flaring away from the vessel, it began arcing down towards the ground.
Frederickson and Letworth watched as the torpedo disappeared into the atmosphere, standing in total silence. It was a few more moments before the bright mushroom cloud erupted across the atmosphere, seemingly insignificant in size from this lofty position.
Frederickson suddenly felt totally sober. He watched the expanding cloud and licked his laps. The he looked at Letworth.
“Oh, frack.”
-----
The reign of Emperor Charlie the First began quite suddenly, and quite unexpectedly.
For the last ten years, the Empire of Unifederated Systems, a bizarrely named, pompous little backwater sovereignty that held one planet and its moon within its “victorious Imperial borders” (to quote the Imperial Book of Victory) had stagnated in an ignored and unimportant little solar system that no-one else had bothered to name, but to the natives was known as the Imperia System.
Well, the term “natives” is used somewhat loosely; three centuries earlier, a colony ship launched from Earth took a wrong turn and crash-landed on the third planet from the Imperia star, had found a habitable continent rich with indigenous flora and fauna, along with a sophisticated alien life-form that had obtained technological achievements of the late 20th century. They welcomed the human refugees with open arms, allowing them food and medical attention and offered to allow them a place among their society. Nobody remembers what the species was called because the humans wiped them out within three years.
Following the “Great War of Liberation”, humanity settled across the continent, quickly assimilating the alien technology to their own needs. It did not take long for the three million settlers to start squabbling within each-other, allying themselves to various alliances that sprang up across the continent with a claim staked on various amounts of territory. There was some disagreement on that point.
It took fifteen years for the “Great War of Unification” to mark a clear winner. A self-proclaimed monarch by the dubious title of “Cunning King David the First”, who stood only more cunning than his counterparts in so much that this own forces deciphered the alien language before anyone else, and subsequently learnt how the button worked. A small weapon was detonated over the capital of a rival Kingdom, and all opposition quickly ceased. To ensure no dissent during his own rule, King David quickly decreed that all deposed monarchies would be allowed to keep their wealth and would form Imperial Houses, each with a representative sent to advise the King on matters of state. This was actually particularly smart, as it meant that the Imperial Houses spent at least as much time squabbling with each-other as they did attempting to overthrow their new superior, who quickly declared himself “Emperor of Imperia III” and issued postage stamps to prove it.
And so the peace maintained itself for another thirty years, allowing the new residents of Imperia III to do what humanity seems to do best; reproduce and find new ways of killing each-other. It was the successful development of the Imperial Space Program that paved the way for the settling of Imperia III’s natural satellite, named imaginatively by the new Empire as “Imperia IIIa.” A thriving underground colony was established, mining the natural minerals of IIIa to be sent back to the home world. Emperor David I quickly declared himself Emperor of this as well, and announced the formation of the “great and bountiful” Empire of Unifederated Systems. There was some consternation about the word “system” being used when an advisor, pedantically, pointed out that the Empire only occupied one system, but Emperor David, cunning man as he was, explained that it would save time later on. He also cut off the advisor’s head and had it inserted onto a pike outside the Imperial Palace. Even today, the accusation “pedantic” has much the same result as the label “counter-revolutionary” did in the Soviet Union.
As seems natural in the course of human history, it was not long before people were picking up those shiny new toys of death yet again. Seems that the colonists of Imperia IIIa, deluded as they were (according to the Imperial News Service, at least) seemed to take issue at having their affairs managed by a government that occupied a different spatial body from their own. Declaring themselves the “Free and Independent Republic of Imperia IIIa” (the architects of the revolution were clever but unimaginative people), they formerly informed their former Emperor that his services were no longer required.
What the architects of the “Free and Independent Republic” forgot to take into account was a newly commissioned Gunboat of the Imperial Navy at anchor in high orbit of the moon. The Republic lasted approximately three hours.
After having cleaned up the mess, the Empire re-colonised Imperia IIIa, and in a surprisingly sensible move decided to give the new colonists a degree of freedom in deciding on local issues. However, given that the Imperia IIIa was owned by the Imperial Government, the majority of decisions stayed in the hands of the Emperor and his “advisors.” A military base soon followed the new colony.
And so the next fifty-odd years passed with little in the way of notice. The usual machinations of power behind the scenes of the Imperial Government increased as “Cunning” Emperor David I became “Senile” Emperor David I, who tended to doze off in the middle of cabinet meetings and had to be spoon-fed three times a day. The Emperor had never got about to working out a system of succession, which was causing some degree of nail-biting on the part of each Imperial House. All five Houses, including an Imperial House of David concerned at keeping their place on the throne, began to start looking for allies within the Imperial Military. The leading officers, sprinkled with a few moustache-covered crackpots but generally the more sensible influences on government policy, had always tried to remain “impartial” within civilian politics, which of course translated into “siding with whoever was powerful at the time to get the best deal.” However, the big prize was at stake and whoever backed the winning side would get a lot of wealth and influence from the outcome. The Navy Admirals, still new to their job and breaking in creaking uniforms, suddenly realised they were in sudden demand. The Imperial Navy was seen as particularly crucial to any successful bid for the throne, due to the ridiculous amount of firepower that could be levelled from on-high. This caused a great degree of jealousy on behalf of the Army, who already viewed each-other with the thinly-veiled hatred of two Miss World contestants. As everyone watched the Emperor’s semi-conscious deterioration with bated breath, people picked sides and waited for the outcome.
It would have ended in civil war. The Empire of Unifederated Systems would likely have been torn apart, destroyed in a frenzied war between power-grabbing backstabbers with an eye on that ridiculously ostentatious, solid-gold seat. And, even if the factions had not bombed everyone, including those normal citizens who always seem to get caught in the way of these things, out of existence, it would have set the Empire back in technological and economic terms to the original settlement.
It would have done, except for one unexpected thing.
-----
“Give me your souls, and I will give you victory or death…no, I mean just victory!”
~ Emperor Charles I at the inaugural speech of his reign
-----
The Pride of the Empire sat at high anchor above Imperia III like a pedigree lapdog stretching itself across a prize carpet. At 290 metres long and 130 metres abeam, it was the first of the new Imperium Class Cruisers and the flagship of the Imperial Navy. Designed to replace the ageing Gunboats that still made up the majority of the fleet, the Pride of the Empire was a devastating weapon.
Unfortunately, it was captained by a drunk, incompetent fool with a Napoleon complex.
Captain Charles Emerson Macwillson Winchester Frederickson the Third was, in an ironic contrast, rather short. Standing (just) at five feet and two inches, Frederickson had spent most of his entire life in the Imperial Navy. An aspiring space sailor fresh from six years of intensive labour and one year of officer training, Frederickson had joined the service for the same reason as many other patriotic Imperial citizens; he was running away from his life.
After thirty years in naval service, through a combination of officer purges, luck and a sympathetic relative at Imperial High Command Headquarters, Frederickson had managed to gain the rank of Captain, more to get him out of the way then anything else. After attaining his rank, he had been shuffled from one command to another, mostly filling in on vessels that sat in dry dock whilst the valuable officers were being used for actual work. This combination of partially-recognised and totally-denied personal incompetence, sour feelings towards the High Command and a history of bad loan sharks and even worse lovers had developed Captain Frederickson a bad drinking habit, which left him even further down the list from actual opportunities to command.
As it currently stood, Frederickson was slouching in the command chair of the Pride of the Empire, staring morosely out of the forward viewing screen and contemplating the latest baby-sitting job he had been given. Initially excited and confused at his appointment as Captain of the latest in Imperial death weaponry, his cheery nature and vows of sobriety had been short-lived when Admiral O’Leary personally informed Frederickson that he would be only in command of the skeleton crew until the real Captain arrived for the shakedown cruise following some big honour parade. A bottle of local spirits had quickly followed a bout of swearing that only started once the transmission had been cut.
For three days, Frederickson had wandered aimlessly from his cabin to the bridge and sat in a bored, inebriated mood whilst he awaited relief. On this, the third day, things would take an unexpected turn.
It was around 4pm Imperial time when First Officer Kyle Letworth, a fresh-faced officer on his first posting, stepped onto the bridge with a boundless enthusiasm that still made Frederickson’s stomach turn. In his usual display of complete professionalism, Letworth ran through the basic computer checks required that day, and would normally then turn for the elevator. This time however, he stepped down from the raised area of the bridge and across to the Captain, who was doing his best to ignore Letworth’s presence. “Well, sir.” Letworth beamed.
Frederickson sighed, decided that there was no way to get out of a conversation, and turned to his XO. “Well, First Officer?” he said in a bored tone.
Letworth continued beaming. “Our last day in command, sir,” he said. “The Admirals and the Generals should be at the Imperial Parade…” Letworth checked his watch. “…about now.”
Frederickson smiled in a skewed, sarcastic manner. “Wonderful,” he said in mock-enthusiasm. “Fantastic. Yet another pointless ceremony to stick badges on a group of idiots that do not deserve it.” The Captain brought up his hand, attached to a bottle, and took a swig. “Then, in a few hours, I’ll be bundled off elsewhere,” he muttered. “Fracking marvellous.”
“Please sir, language!” Letworth said in shock. Frederickson ignored him, but Letworth did not seem to recognise this. He stepped across the bridge to stand by the viewer, looking down on Imperia III with patriotic reverence. “I know we’ve done very little, sir,” Letworth continued. “But even so, the chance to be onboard this vessel is an honour.”
Frederickson snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Honour?” he asked dubiously.
Letworth turned and nodded, his face glowing like a proud father. Frederickson almost retched. “Yes sir,” the F.O. – an abbreviation which Frederickson could think of some other words to go with – continued. “State-of-the-art laser cannons, the latest fusion torpedoes, and the first in a line of automated interfaces.”
Frederickson’s interest peaked somewhere under the layers of alcohol. “Automated what?”
Letworth frowned. “Interface, sir,” he said. “Surely you read the briefing papers?”
Frederickson smiled sarcastically. “Remind me,” he said, leaning back.
Letworth continued, looking back at the viewer. “A complete computer-controlled interface, directly controlled by the Commanding Officer,” he said. “In the event of the crew becoming too small, the Captain may assume command if the computer records the crew level as falling below a certain number.”
Frederickson raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he pondered. This pondering gave way to a devious smile. “Well then,” he said, standing (unsteadily) from his chair and walking to the nearest console. “Let’s have a look.”
Letworth turned his head, looking at his C.O. “Ha-What?”
Frederickson leant over the console and squinted. “Computer, access the Automated Interface and access tactical control.”
Letworth balked. “Sir, I-”
Frederickson glared at him. “I did not give you permission to speak,” he snapped. With Letworth silenced, he turned back to the console.
The computer took a moment, and then acknowledged his command. “Please state request,” the male voice said smoothly.
Frederickson grinned. “Computer, prime a two megaton nuclear warhead and fire it at the Imperial Palace in, say, ten seconds time.”
The computer bleeped for a moment. Letworth’s face went completely white. “Request processed, launch in ten seconds. Nine…”
“Sir, permission to speak!” Letworth blurted.
Frederickson turned to Letworth. “Relax,” he said with a grin. “I’m not actually going to blow them up.”
“No sir, I know,” Letworth said again, his face deathly pale. “But please, there’s something you should know.”
“…seven, six…”
Frederickson sighed. “What?” he asked in an annoyed tone.
“There are still some problems with the interface,” Letworth gabbled. “It sometimes locks up.”
Frederickson sighed. “Fine,” he said as he turned back to the console. “Computer, abort request.”
“Request not recognised,” the male voice said in a helpful tone. “Launch in three, two, one, zero.”
The Pride of the Empire rocked slightly on its pitch axis as the torpedo was loosed from its tube. Flaring away from the vessel, it began arcing down towards the ground.
Frederickson and Letworth watched as the torpedo disappeared into the atmosphere, standing in total silence. It was a few more moments before the bright mushroom cloud erupted across the atmosphere, seemingly insignificant in size from this lofty position.
Frederickson suddenly felt totally sober. He watched the expanding cloud and licked his laps. The he looked at Letworth.
“Oh, frack.”