thegreatpl: “do you think i should?”

Entire cast: “YES”

thegreatpl: “meh, im too lazy”

…

thegreatpl:”but since you put it that way, i’ll get something done as soon as possible, now please put those weapons away, please.”

…

“Pretty please?”

just to show that the site isnt dead just yet. i do intend to write something at some point. honest. ive just not been in the mood to write anything. i do this to relax and for fun, and im quite relaxed at the moment, and ive been getting my fun from Space Trek. i dont know what danansans excuse is, or even if he has just given up and moved on. if anyone wants to write their own stories, then send them to me and i will post them, or make u a user to post more if i think its really good.

Nilats sat back and smiled. He looked down at the report of the Republics civil war. Not quite the way he had planned, but still good.

***

The Dispatch boats left for their respective destinations. A few months later, those destinations would commit themselves to their orders.

***

Admiral Ishikawa Reika rushed onto the flag bridge of her flagship, a battleship by the name of HMS Bloody Big Tiger. (Names like this were not so uncommon as many would think. Even worse was the fact that the Empress, as well as several previous Emperors and Empresses, openly endorsed it).

“Status report” she called out to her flag personnel.
“They definitely are heading towards Rembrandt. And CIC makes it a pair of battleships, three cruisers and six destroyers. Definitely a battlefleet.”

Reika nodded. Battleships only real purpose was to fight other Navies ships; no pirate had anything big enough to justify building a ship that big. The biggest pirates tended to be around the destroyer range, simply because anything bigger would be too expensive to run effectively. Most pirates had corvettes and frigates, and their equivalents in the navies used the same to hunt them down (albeit with Whackers instead of pure cripplers).

“Identification; its the Lizzies” called the sensor tech, Michael Hardvok.

Reika cursed inwardly. There were, really, only two people it could have been; the Republic or New Lisbon. Only the those three great powers had enough money to devote to a reasonable size fleet of battleships, which were expensive when you could devote more money to fixed defenses (in theory at least, fixed defenses may be cheaper and carry more weapons, but had slightly less range due to them firing out of gravity. Not that this mattered with any weapon except missiles, which were expensive, because of the massively short ranges).

The biggest ship in most fleets arsenal was a battlecruiser, which was a lot smaller and mounted less weapons than a battleship.

Of course, not that any of this was any comfort. Reika had one battleship, a heavy cruiser, a pair of destroyers, 4 frigates and 8 corvettes. The Corvettes would not be much use against a battlefleet; they were likely to be blown to pieces in the missile duel, and they couldnt fire missiles on their own (Although they had Whacker turrets, the turrets were simply too small (or short) to fit a missile in. Missiles were the same width as a whacker, which allowed them to use the same launcher, but longer, to fit the bigger engine in). Frigates too would only be able to put a few extra missiles out, and be destroyed on a single hit, although that could be said for all of her ships except the Cruiser and Battleship.

However, the system did have plenty of fixed defenses. Which included missile pods. The pods were simply missile launchers with a small amount of missiles which could be added to the slaughter. They were shorter ranged as well, and not just because of gravity; the missiles had to rely entirely on their own drives, whereas shipboard launched missiles had the extra speed that came from the launchers magnetics.

“Captain Kent wishes to know whether he should start up the Sludgefield” the Communications tech called across.

Reika frowned. The Sludgefield was really a field of controlled gravity. The technology was ancient; dating back to Old Terra, and was one of the things which had cheated MAD. The field controlled physical things that entered it at the will of the operator. The ancient ones, huge things that they were with their own power plants, had been located in huge buildings. The sheer size of them had prevented the 2nd Empire era governments from using them for anything other than city defense, or fixed defenses. And those had been almost always ground based.

The fields themselves were not much; they just allowed the control, to some degree, of items that entered the area it controlled. It had allowed the, relatively, slow nuclear missiles to be stopped in there tracks, and then often crushed (and in at least one case during the indian war, flipped over and sent back the way it came.)

However, this control was limited. Only a small area could be “hardened” at once. For extreme control it was much weaker everywhere else. Not only that, but the bigger the target, and the faster it was going, meant that more power had to be spent on stopping it, or diverting it in a “glancing” blow. Worse, they were power hogs, which ate up power like no tomorrow. It took a lot of power to stop something as big as a missile or Whacker. More, the more power it could handle, the bigger the Sludgeshield generator had to be.

All of this meant that no one put sludgeshields anywhere but on planets and large orbital fortresses which actually had the space, and power, to spare. Except the Empire. The Empire was the most advanced in the area of Sludgeshields, and had managed to build one small enough to justify putting it on a few of their battleships.

Like the Bloody big class. Of course, something else had to go instead, and in this case it had been the boat bay, where smaller pinnaces had traditionally docked. To make up for this, they had added a small tube which a single pinnace could fit, barely, which did not allow any maintenance, and several docking tubes on the external parts of the ship. The downside was that it took away any evacuation potential for most of the crew. (not that evacuating the ship really was much point in most cases. The sheer fury of the weapons often blew huge pieces out of even battleships, if not destroying it completely. And cripplers, the only minor damage weapons used anywhere, could be stopped by Sludgeshields easily)

Most navies, even if they had the technology, did not mount sludgeshields on their ships. The simple reason was that it could only stop cripplers and only divert the bigger Whackers and missiles. They considered it a waste of space to have something that only gave a small advantage.

But the British saw it as any advantage is still an advantage. The british also saw it becoming, in the future once the technology had advanced enough, common to all navies, and wanted to get in the habit of putting them into their ships so that when it did they could refit all their own battleships quickly and easily. In theory anyway.

However, that was the future, and this was today. The enemy ships may not have their own sludgefields, but they could detect the gravitational markings of one. Which would mean they would know they were facing a battleship. That was why it was, by the Book, required for the captain to ask the leader of the battle for permission to bring them online.

“Tell him he can. I see no advantage in showing that we dont have it” Admiral Ishikawa Reika replied.

She then turned back to the monitor screen to consider her tactics for the upcoming battle.

yay, a new story. danansan suddenly going and posting the start of his civil war has messed up all my plans. i had planned on getting the current Harnam story finished first, before the New Lisbon-Empire war begins. however, part of the story now requires me to move. oh well, wasnt too long ago i was saying he should hurry up. and apologies for the last few weeks, i havent had any internet connection/was distracted. also, Ishikawa Reika is japanese, and follows the japanese naming order (surname, then first name).

November 17th, 2550

 ”Okay gentlemen, I think you know why we’re here. The time has come. We’re taking control. The coup,” finished Carlos Torres, “Is on.”
“What?” asked one surprised looking staff officer, “Why now?”
“You know project Kinesis?” replied Torres. There were nods around the room, which was brimming with military officers. “Well, our plans have been stolen. We don’t know by who, so we’re attacking everyone to get them back.”
“Surely we could investigate, find out who took them, rather than just launch an all out offensive,” suggested a balding Colonel.
Torres shook his head, “Even a few days with those plans could jeopardise everything.”
“But there must be another way!” exclaimed the same Colonel.
“There may be, but the General has made his decision. Now, if you turn your attention to the screen,” Torres said, indicating the large touch screen on which a map of Emancipation was displayed, with a smaller inset of the rest of Lincon, “We have multiple targets. Colonel Cruickshank will lead the 9th Marine Battalion to attack the RBI’s main base at the Craydon Building. Colonel Brown will take the 7th to the docks. Brown, you’re to seize and search every ship down there. And don’t let anything leave or come in. Colonel Christiano, take the 3rd to the British Embassy. Colonel Viren will assault the Police HQ with the 1st, and I will personally lead the 5th and 2nd to the Samross Army Base. All four other Battalions will stay to hold the Admiralty Base. Unless there are any questions, this meeting is over.”

* * *

“I think we’ve been putting this off for too long.”
Daily considered. “We needed to pay proper respect to David. We both owe him a hell of a lot.”
“You more than me,” replied Homes, leaning back in his chair, “Now, I think we both know what the big issue is going to be here. Which one of us is going to take control of the RBI now that Munro is dead.”
“Yes,” agreed Daily, “Yes, that will be the big issue.” There was a short silence as the two men glared at each other across Holmes’ desk. Behind Holmes a window fluttered, letting a cool breeze into the tense room.
“I’m the acting head. I’m currently in charge,” said Holmes.
Daily nodded. “True. But the only reason he put you in charge is because you’re more experienced. I’m his preferred choice.”
“Maybe,” countered Holmes, “But the man is dead. Fact is, I’m more experienced, more respected and more ambitious. Plus I’m currently in charge, so no transition.”
“You may be more experienced, but you’re probably not more ambitious, and you’re certainly not more respected,” commented Daily.
Holmes leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on his desk. He fixed his gaze on Daily. “Okay,” he said, “Try this one. You’ll let me be the head, or I’ll have Berlin kill you.”
“You bastard,” snarled Daily, “You had to pull out your trump card didn’t you.”
Holmes smiled, aware that he had won. “Yes. You see Daily…”
Unfortunately for everyone, the world would never know what wisdom Holmes had to impart to Daily, for at that moment, a shell flew through the window. It sailed straight through the room, over the two shocked men, and smashed through the door on the other side of the room. A second later, there was an explosion. The entire contents of the room, all of the paraphernalia with which Holmes stuffed his office, including his desk and his chairs and their occupants, were flung right across it. Fortunately for Daily, the desk was heavy oak, and didn’t go very far. His shoulder shattered as he hit it, but at least he wasn’t like Holmes. Who had gone out the window.

The floor gave way, and Daily, still cushioned against the oak desk, fell down to the next floor. Dust cleared.
“McArthur’s men are attacking!” shouted someone rather needlessly, as the sound of gunfire gradually seeped up from the lower floors, and more shells went off above.
Daily pulled himself up, wincing at the strain on his shoulder.
“Holmes is dead, and I’m in charge now,” he said, looking at the assembled crowd of bewildered RBI agents, “Now, we need to all get down to the lower floors and fight off those troops. Villin, you and Barlow are in charge of that operation. Rufus, can you head around the building and tell all the agents to go down there. Except the sharpshooters. Jennifer, you collect up as many sharpshooters as you can, start sniping them from the high levels. Farrel, go find Berlin. Get her up here. Zaria? Can you fetch me a medic?”

 * * *

Sergeant Macintyre looked out from the bar. Seeing the mass of Marines, he pulled his head back in quickly. He turned to his officer, Lieutenant Milne.
“There’s a couple of thousand Marines out there,” he said, “Admiralty base colours.”
“So McArthur’s finally made his move,” mused Milne, “Have we got any orders from the Son?”
Macintyre shook his head. “They’re jamming us,” he explained.
Milne swore. “Get me Captain Arran.”

“Shall we?” asked Captain Arran, glancing around the bar in which he was seated.
“I think we shall,” confirmed Lieutenant Gurvan, Arran’s second in command.
Arran smiled, then rose to his feet and fired his pistol into the roof. “Everyone get down!” he screamed. The alarmed patrons fell to the floor, leaving only a few people standing in the entire bar. These were Arran’s men, from the Prodigal Son. They quickly removed their long coats, and revealed Marine uniforms with Sigma Fleet colours. Gurvan raised a radio to his mouth.
“Let’s go, boys and girls,” he said into it, before pocketing it, and unhooking the large assault rifle than had been strapped across his back. The other Marines did likewise. The group quickly moved out of the room, leaving the bewildered patrons of the bar to pick themselves up. They were back down on the ground again a moment later, however, once the sounds of gunfire reached them.

* * *

James Anderson of the British Diplomatic Core picked up his rifle, and pointed it nervously out of the window at the approaching Marines. Beside him his twin brother, David Anderson, did likewise, with considerably more confidence.
“Shit,” swore James, “I never thought this would ever actually happen. I mean, we all do the training, but I never thought anyone in the Republic would be stupid enough to do this.”
“Out of practice?” asked his brother wryly, as he checked his sights.
“Of course not!” said James indignantly, “I go down to the shooting range every week, same as everyone else.”
“Quite a difference between a hologram and a real person though,” observed David.
“I suppose you’d know. After all, you’re the one who’s done the killing.”
David closed his eyes. “You would have to bring that up.”
“I’m not the sadist here.”
David’s eyes snapped open. “They’re in range,” he said, “Let’s start.”
Lining up a shot in his sights, he began to fire. After a moment’s hesitation James joined in. All around the Embassy shots began to ring out.

* * *

All the TV networks were down. Thomas McArthur sat in the living room of 134 Allegro Street and stared at the blank screen. Something big was going on here, as if the sounds of gunfire echoing across the streets hadn’t been a big enough clue. Right across the city, people were keeping to their houses, worrying about what the hell was going on, and who was doing the fighting. Of course, most had a damn good idea who was doing the fighting, and where wondering who it was who had kicked it off, and who it was that was going to win.
“Fuck off,” said Thomas quietly, looking down at his mobile. The phones were down too.
And then, quite suddenly, the door opened, and Arthur Vuori stepped through.
“Hello Mr McArthur,” he said grimly, “I believe you happen to have a very interesting folder.”
Thomas looked at the figure of the President, and said in a dazed voice, “Hello Mr President.”

* * *

“What is it you want me to do?”
Luke Daily struggled to keep himself from grinning. This was going surprisingly well. Berlin seemed to be quite friendly, and had taken Holmes death very well. “I want you to kill Francis McArthur. Shoot him, stab him, slit his throat, I don’t care. I want him dead.”
“Okay. Where is he?”
“He’ll be up at the Admiralty Base, probably at his office or in the command centre.”
Berlin nodded, then rose to her feet and walked to the entrance to the secret exit of the Craydon building. She turned. “I’m doing this for the memory of Holmes,” she said, “After this, I’m gone.”

* * *

In the briefing room of the FRS Prodigal Son Jack Harvey surveyed his officers. “There’s fighting going on down there,” he said, “And some of our boys are involved. XO?”
Harvey’s XO, Rayne Avenson, explained further, “From the information we have, McArthur’s made his move to take control.”
“While we’re right here? That’s hardly a great move,” commented tac. officer Ceszar.
Avenson nodded in agreement, “We’re assuming that something galvanised him into launching an all out attack on everything. We also think that he had very poor data on our deployment, as none of his troops seemed aware of our units at the docks. As far as we’re aware, he didn’t know that we’d deployed our 2nd Battalion undercover at the docks, and his troops were only there in an arbitrary attempt to control access to the city. Whatever the case, our boys took them unawares, and slaughtered up to 50% of their strength.”
“What’s the situation now?” asked comm. officer Arika.
Avenson grimaced. “They’ve pinned us down with their Dragons and Wolves.”
Harvey nodded. The Dragon was the Republic’s main Hover Tank class, and the Wolf was its main Altabernus class. “Deploy our own Dragons and Wolves, and our 1st Battalion. Also, prep the Son for combat operations.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Ceszar.
“McArthur’s gone all our,” replied Harvey, “So we might as well do the same.”

I’m not particularly happy with this, but I suppose I need to post something to start to get this arc out of the way – Danansan

It had a sort of button on the handgrip which made up the cylinder, but when pressed nothing happened. Harnam was curious. He knew it was something odd, but not a glimmer of an idea what it was.

“Mr Herman, this way please” the secretary said. Harnam got up and followed her. This time, the passage was much more brighter, still with the dull walls, and some machine guns hanging down from the ceiling tracking them, but that was it for security. They didnt even ask for him to remove his weapons.

They came to the office again, or at least he was sure it was the same office. Somehow an extra two doors were now in evidence, when they hadnt before, but otherwise the office was the same, down to the man behind the table.

“Ah, Harnam, good to see you again. Everything went well then?”
“Yes sir”
The secretary then left the room.
“Good. The money is now in your bank account. However, the way I understand it, work these days is getting a bit thin. Especially after the Thornton incident”
Damn, how did they find out about those things, thought Harnam. Aloud he said “indeed”

“Perhaps then, you would like to come and work for us? I assure you, we are quite legit, and you are, shall we say, better than many of my men”
“How much” Harnam said quickly. It was always good to keep your options open, especially when the work wasnt paying what it used to.

They then got onto haggling. When they were done, the Man noticed the artifact.

“What have we here now? Interesting, I assume you got it from Trotsky?” he said, taking the artifact and twirling it through his hands, studying it.

“Yes” Harnam said hesitantly. The man then pressed the button, frowned when it did not do anything, and opened his draw. He then grabbed two AA batteries and flipped the bottom of the tube open, and inserted them.

“It’s powered by AA batteries?” Harnam asked, staring incredulously.
“Indeed. Even we do not know how it worked” the man replyed, and then he pressed the button.

The blade of what could be only described as light (even though it was black) shot out until it was roughly 25 inches long.

“That is… impressive” Harnam said, then “but what makes it work, and how does that blade glow black?”
“We dont really know. The man who invented didnt. Actually, its a funny story. The man, Michel Dulio, boasted he could make a lightsaber after a few too many. The local Lord of the planet heard about it, and said that if he didnt make a real working one within 6 months he would be killed and executed, and his family with him for good measure. After 5 months and 27 days, and still no success, the man drowned himself in a massive cocktail of drugs and alcohol. After he woke up, this is what he found, or at least, five of them.”

“Did he ever find out how it was done?” asked Harnam, eyeing the sword.
“I dont think so, he died of Liver failure about a month later, and the doctors swore blind that the rest of his body was shutting down as well. A result of the cocktail they said. Still, he left a legacy, until someone chucked one into an alien replicator they were the most sort after weapons you could get”

The man smiled and shut the sword off, and handed it back.
“Now, your first assignment”

***
“And that is my first assignment?” asked Harnam, staring at the large, alien machine in front of him. You got them sometimes; alien hardware from a long ago age. Most didnt work, or worked only in certain conditions. Others were confusing. Harnam had heard of one which, every 10 years, spurted bright green bubbles into the air for some reason.

This one looked to be one of the few things that actually did anything useful, but then again, looks can be deceiving.

“Yes, this is an ancient AD generator” the man said, who now liked to be called X.
“AD?”
“Alternate Dimension”
“So, my job is to travel to an Alternate Dimension, and what? Explore? Bring back tech?”
“Well, That’s the official reason we use to justify it to Parliament”
“And the Real reason?” said Harnam, who often listened carefully.
“The Royal Family and I get bored”
“Ah”

***

Harnam stepped onto the platform, and turned towards the scientists watching him from the consoles. He had had, injected in his shoulder blades, a chip which would relay his every experience (sight, sound and smell, and also sometimes taste. Not feelings or touch, that can be uncomfortable) and been briefed on what to expect (well, it can be anything really. Sometimes technology doesnt work, and others other things do things differently. No I dont know about your sword, but those knives should do nicely, unless plastic and metal cant exist there of course) and been given equipment (this is a nice tool we call a universal translator. It should work, but often waving your arms around helps if it doesnt, plus its also funny).

X called to him “And remember, if you die, make it as entertaining as possible”
“Wait?!? What?!?” Harnam called as a bright light of pure white surrounded him.

***

When the light vanished, he was in a corridor. It was completely metal, like what would be found on a spaceship, except there was gravity. He didnt have long to orient himself, before two red pelted humanoid cats walked around the corner.

who could they be? lol. and so begins a wonderful new storyline featuring our friend Harnam. i dont really like some of the conversation in this one. i dont think it flows naturally. 

Harnam knew quite a bit about the Valued workers system that his family had barely missed being included in. The massive expansion of New Lisbon had seized his birth world in such a short amount of time after his family had left. 

Harnam, in his acquired costume, advanced with his eyes held down to the floor, so as not to attract attention. By now, most of the people working in the building had gotten used to the slaves they did not give him a second glance, even if he was an unfamiliar one. 

He walked down corridors, along the red carpet, past the walls of a sort of light yellow, under the bright lights shining from the roof, and occasionally glancing at the white sideboards. Past portraits of, well, he wasnt sure who. Some of them looked rather like the famous portrait of Emperor Roger I by Empress Rin (Empress Rin had been very good at paintings, and the one of Roger was very good. It was just unfortunate that Roger had been dead for 30 years, and that she liked to paint from life).  

Harnam turned down an identical corridor, where more paintings hung. Harnam almost looked back at one, and yes, it did seem to be a genuine Empress Rin Painting, or at least a copy. Most likely a copy, although this was quite good. It was one of her Disintegrator series, and this one showed the controls. It wasnt quite s impressive as the one which showed the Barrels. 

Harnam continued down the corridor musing this. Even here, in the heart of one of the Nations who despised the Empire, there was influence from it. They seemed to worship the painting. It was even more odd, because the disintegrator was a British Weapon; most others couldnt see the point of having such a monstrosity, and it was a bitch to load as well, even if it did put out over a million rounds a minute on rapid fire. With 8 rotary sets of 5 barrels, you didnt need to worry too much about it overheating (or the enemy, who after a minute is probably composed of a thin red paste).     

Finally, Harnam came to a bedroom door, and then passed through it. Inside, the grandiose 4 poster bed kind of showed how hypocritical Trotsky the Communist was. 

“Ah, good, I was getting worried. Now, hurry over with the Whisky” commanded the man who stood facing the massive windows which showed across the surrounding gardens. The man held his hand lazily, waiting for the presumed drink to be put in his hand. 

Harnam approached, and then withdrew the Icepick, before smashing it into the back of his targets head. It wasnt fair, but you didnt get to where Harnam was now by being fair. 

The blood began to stream from the hole in his head. And Trotsky collapsed, his white-grey hair beginning to be dyed red. 

Harnam looked down and saw a broach that was on the side of Trotsky’s belt. It was a sort of blackish golden thing, in the shape of a swords hilt almost. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He didnt really know why. 

That was way too easy, thought Harnam. Then the alarms sounded. 

Why did I even think that, Harnam thought as he raced and dived out the window. 

yay, new post. sorry for the lack of a post last week, but exams are on for both me and Danansan now, so we havent really got time to write so much. finally, the Harnam story is almost over. i think Rin is pronounced wren, but its been so long since i watched InuYasha  i cannot remember. 

The colony of  Nouvelle Lisbonne was founded in February 2080 AD, in the last years of the First Great Expansion. The ISUA and Isreal-Judea were caught in the midst of their war against the British and the Tri-Weri, and the Eorpa Confederation was feeling the heat. The system had been discovered by a Eorpan scoutship only a month before, and the Confederation had decided to skip the usual six months preparation and claim the system and, more importantly, the habitable planet, before someone else did. With war looming, Eorpa wanted this jewel of a world under their control as quickly as possible. And what a jewel she was! The world of Nouvelle Lisbonne was 1.7x the size of earth, and had just the right atmospheric conditions and temperatures to support human life. Better still, there was no indigenous animal life to deal with, despite the massive forest that covered the planet’s temperate zone. The first colony ship made landfall in the planet’s northern hemisphere, and quickly set up the city of Mercredi. More quickly arrived, and within five years, the date the Eorpa entered the war, there were seven bustling cities, each with a population in excess of 10 million. Unfortunately for Eorpa, the colony was far out from the rest of their territory, and they were unable to move as many people there as they would have liked before it was too late, and all their efforts had to go towards fighting the Tri-Weri. Nouvelle Lisbonne itself had no infrastructure and was not seen as a target by the Tri-Weri. The colony got on quite contentedly as visits by Confederation ships got fewer and fewer, and eventually stopped. Eorpa had never revealed their perfect colony to the other nations, so no traders showed up. The Eorpa Confederation collapsed in 2106, but Nouvelle Lisbonne never even found out.

 And so, over the next two centuries, the people of Nouvelle Lisbonne lived on their bounteous world, quickly expanding to cover all of it. The Nouvelle Lisbonneites were divided into seven nations around the original seven cities founded, each named after a day in the week: Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi, Dimanche, Lundi and Mardi. This gave rise to the nickname for a Nouvelle Lisbonneite, a Dayer. The relations between the seven Dayer nations was generally cordial, though it did occasionally break out into small scale fighting. During this period, the realms of all seven cities were ruled over by City Councils. However, the method of appointing leaders to these councils varied from city to city. Mercredi elected theirs democratically, whereas the membership of Jeudi’s was hereditary, and Samedi’s was appointed by the Chairman of the committee. Over a period of 50 years, the planet gradually united into the República Democrática de Nouvelle Lisbonne, a democratic nation led by their parliament, the Magnifique Conseil des Conseils Municipaux, more commonly known as the Municipaux. In 2454, a trade ship hailing from the 3rd Empire stumbled across the system whilst running from pirates. The Municipaux had only recently began to look towards space, launching a few missions to the planet’s moon, and the arrival of the trader shook them up. However, they began to trail what few data sources they had for information on FTL, purchasing information from the occasional passing trader. They did, however, refuse to purchase an FTL drive outright. In 2461 they finished their first FTL drive, and took to the stars.

 Nouvelle Lisbonne quickly expanded their fleet to a respectable size, and built a huge fleet of trade ships, who shipped the world’s huge volumes excess food to famine stricken worlds. The sudden emergence of Nouvelle Lisbonne from non-FTL world to a power single-system trading power shocked many, but it is not surprising if you look at the facts. Pre-FTL Nouvelle Lisbonne had an economy most FTL capable single system governments would envy, but lacked the tech. The Dayers’ main customers were the single or double system governments in the Werevan region, where a large percentage of the worlds were arid. The people in this area were mainly either African or Asian, and their governments were all amiable. This was a golden age for Nouvelle Lisbonne, their economy took off, and their GDP skyrocketed. by 2490, Nouvelle Lisbonne had achieved a  higher GDP per capita than both the Republic and the Empire.

 However, disaster struck in 2497 when the intensifying jostling for position between Republic and the Empire led to the dividing up the Werevan region between them. The worlds in that area began to get their food from worlds inside their respective new governments, and Nouvelle Lisbonne was left facing economic collapse. The situation worsened in 2499 when the two great powers went to war, and light ships from both nations began to raid  inbound trade for their rivals. Nouvelle Lisbonne lost dozens of traders, and their economy took an even harder hit. Even the signing Treaty of Concord, which ended the war, couldn’t save the Dayers. It was around this time that the Samedi Communist Party (SPC) came to prominence. They appealed to the working classes of farmers and workers who were feeling considerably light in the pocket and damn angry against the corporate leaders who had weathered the economic storm, and seemed to have the Municipaux under their control. In the general election of 2504, the SPC won 40% of the seats, despite gaining 70% of the vote. It seemed that they were going to have to form a minority government until the election of Joseph Nilats as the head of the PFL, the Lundi Fascist Party (who drew their support from those angry at the Empire, Republic and the inhabitants of the Werevan region for brining about the economic downfall of Nouvelle Lisbonne). Nilats, who controlled 17% of the vote, formed a coalition with the SPC, with his only condition being that he would be made Chancellor. This gave the SPC political power, and they immediately went about turning Nouvelle Lisbonne into a communist state. Almost immediately, there were riots at the docks from the traders who would loose out under this system. As the SPC struggled to deal with the riots, many of their Municipaux members began to defect. With the situation quickly getting out of their control, the SPC took the advice of Nilats and forced a vote on a two thirds empty Municipaux filled with their own supporters on the Legislação Lei de Emergência (Emergency Legislation Act), which gave the government the power to pass laws without the consent of the Municipaux, The bill was passed, marginally, giving near total power to whoever made up the government.

 The next day PFL Pureza Agentes (purity enforcers) rounded up and summarily executed all prominent members of the SPC, with the exception of one Alan Trotsky Jackson the party chairman, while the Polícia looked on. It was at this point Nilats made his famous speech from the empty Municipaux building. In this speech he stated the composition of his new emergency government, condemned the ‘terrorists’ who had murdered the leaders of the SPC, declared the ‘temporary’ suspension of democracy, declared that Pureza Agentes and the Polícia now had the authority to use lethal force at their own discretion, and, most importantly, declared the supremacy of Nouvelle Lisbonne over all other nations, and the ‘pure-blood Eorpan’ over all other ‘races and creeds.’ Over the next week, the riots were crushed ruthlessly, with hundreds killed in the process.

 Over the next ten years, Nouvelle Lisbonne shut its borders, isolating itself from the universe at large. During this period, Nilats and the PFL totally rebuilt the social structure of the nation into what was apparently a combination of a fascist and communist state, but was in reality a fascist system with surface deep communist overtones. Any Dayer of ‘inferior’ race was demoted to little more than a slave, though they were of course not slaves but ‘valued workers.’ During this period Tesoureiro Nilats tightened his grip on power executing and replacing much of his government on a regular basis. Nilats’ theory was to remove any potential enemy before they became his enemy. Jackson, despite having been made the technical Head of State, was not executed, merely totally sidelined. Only a trusted few were allowed to keep their jobs for any length of time: Chief of Police Asce Folquet, Information Minister Gabriela Caridad, Head of the PFL Till Wickerus, and Nilats’ own daughter Selena Nilats, Minister for War. Nilats considered these the four most important posts, and filled them with people he absolutely trusted.

 During the Ten Year Isolation Nouvelle Lisbonne’s navy increased ten-fold, with 70% of the system’s large economy going towards the building of a huge fleet. The surrounding governments looked on nervously, and increased the size of their own fleets. In 2514 the Dayer fleet Blitzkreiged the surrounding systems, wiping their fleets aside. Nouvelle Lisbonne began to expand at and incredibly rapid rate, seizing system after system. Their pace slowed somewhat after pressure from the Republican and Empire governments, but Nouvelle Lisbonne has been expanding at a steady rate ever since.

 In the modern day, the fascist principles of Nouvelle Lisbonne are ingrained on over one hundred inhabitable planets. Nilats, now over 80, is becoming increasingly paranoid, having had even his previously trusted daughter Selena executed. The Dayer navy is renowned throughout known space as a dedicated, forceful and professional service, which is more experienced than even the Republican navy. However, it is handicapped in that no one of ‘inferior’ birth is allowed to advance particularly high in their chain of command, regardless of ability.

 Nouvelle Lisbonne is a international power of the highest standard. No one, not matter what they think of its policies, can deny that. However, as the nation takes an increasingly aggressive stance towards its fellow major power, many believe that war between any two of them, if not all three, is inevitable. And if that war does come, has Nouvelle Lisbonne overextended itself? Is it too weak at its core to survive a long term war against a powerful and determined opposition? Or is its seemingly inexhaustible drive enough to overwhelm even the strongest of opposition? Doubtless, in the years to come, we will find out.

EDIT THEGREATPL 4/5/09: put this into facts section as it isnt really stories. also, im counting this as the post for the week it was posted (as i cant be bothered to go write one myself) 

Harnam was enjoying this, even though he knew it was the only way to get down unnoticed, and that if he was noticed he was either a slave, or dead. New Lisbon was very strict about people of “Color”. He had realized this when he had been very young. Or rather, his family had. They had fled to the Empire just ahead of New Lisbon’s ReUnification fleets. There was very little Harnam could remember about his homeworld, Silesia. 

Harnam was a bit of an oddity. His parents had both been Delhian, and had migrated to Silesia for a better life. Then they had decided that they would be better off in the British Empire than as slaves to the supposedly superior Eorpans. 

He liked the name Herman as it made him feel as though he fit in more. That he was not adrift without a nationality of his own. That he did have a place to call home. The Empire was where he lived while he wasnt on a mission, but he didnt feel that he entirely fit in. 

Of course, the Empire was a bit mad anyway. He was sure something of the Emperors and Empresses insanity had rubbed of on the citizens of the Empire. Certainly they enjoyed the antics of their Monarchs. 

His thoughts stopped as the thrusters on his drop ring lit up. He did not look up, but down and towards the oncoming ground.  

The Drop Ring was one of the methods for getting troops onto the ground. It was, essentially, a ring made up of thrusters and fuel to slow a descent. Harnam was spread eagled slightly below the ring itself, and directly in the center of it. The flexible cords holding his suit to the ring began to flex as the ring slowed his descent, and he still fell faster. Then the cords tightened, and he was pulled back up, his descent slowed. He then hit the ground, which was not very painful as by the time he did so, the cords had withdrawn so he was directly inside the ring. The rings thrusters hit the ground first, and the ring bounced, and then hit again, before settling. 

Harnam soon had the descent suit off, and set off in the setting sun. What most people who write stories about drops fail to consider is that dropping at night makes it more likely to be spotted as you are lit up like a christmas tree, while in the day if you were seen, then people are less likely to ignore you. The best time to drop is sundown or Dawn, when the bright sky obscured the view. 

Harnam jogged off into the encroaching night. Ready to do his job. 

***

Paul Green looked out at the city. And then up into the night sky, where a tiny brown moon was to be seen, along with a much brighter white one. The tiny brown moon reminded him what was at stake here. 

He turned away from the window, and turned to where his descendant was sitting in a chair, and was reading a book. She looked up at her ancestor, who was well known to the family. 

She considered him, the founder of the dynasty, and what a dynasty it was. One of the longest continuos dynasties ever, without much of a hiccup. A Green had been on the throne (or worn the presidents hat) for over 500 years. 

“So what is this about” she asked. 

“I fear war is approaching” replied Paul. 

“War? Our relations with the Republic, while not the best, are fine right now. I dont think they will…”

“No, no not the Republic. I fear New Lisbon may make a move against us.”

“New Lisbon, why would they attack us?”

“Several reasons, one is that we are the biggest Nation in terms of systems and allies, which means that we are a threat to their dream of uniting all of human space, along with the Republic. Another is that the republic is about to become very distracted of things outside its border, making it a perfect opportunity to attack us without them interfering.”

“I see” everyone knew that New Lisbon was hated by most people, including the Republic, who would be better off under their rule. “so what do you suggest?”

“we warn our high command to be ready” Paul replied, looking up at the brown moon, which was in fact the High command center, as well as the actual flagship of the Empire (compared to the Belfast, which was the ceremonial flagship), as it had been for the past 530 years. It was the biggest hyper capable ship ever built, as well as the most heavily armed. The only ships which had came close were its sisters, the others of the General class Mobile Fortresses.  

High in Orbit, the High command of the entire British navy managed things from the greatest of all warships, the HMS Bellisarius.

new story, yay. danansan and i have been talking again. and discussing things about the site, including the difference between the navies. 

most of the Languages originated in the Rising Star era, during which the Earth was divided into 5 main Nations, all of which were forced to have their new lands adopt their own language, and new languages often developed as a result. 

the ISUA had it, for the most part, relatively easy. most of the lands they ruled were english speaking already, and the few that were not spoke Spanish. the few Spanish speaking regions often adopted it as more of a second language.

the Eorpa Confederation had it the Hardest, as they ruled massive regions of different language speaking peoples. with all of the different speaking people, with very little of a language in common which each other. The Language Eorpan was developed as a melding of these languages, but few used it much until many years after its creation. it was only during the recovery after the orbital Bombardment that it became really popular, replacing English due to the new hatred for all things British. it is mainly a melding of French, Spanish and German, with a smattering of English and Italian thrown in.

the British also had it easy, mainly as they only had two main languages; English and Spanish, and few other languages. Most of the People learned english, realizing that those who knew the Language were more likely to be able to reap the benefits. over time, Spanglish evolved, with a mix of english and spanish (with a bit of Portuguese thrown in), and mostly understandable by both. 

the UAL mostly never really developed a language of its own. in reality, it did not really have much unity in the first place. for the major administrative duties it used english. apart from the fact that it was the only language they could mostly agree on, and even then some refused to even speak it. the planets that it colonized often speak their own language, and many of them speak more than one, none of which are sometimes understandable to anyone else. 

EACPS mostly used Chinese throughout its life. however, many of the other states did not speak chinese and some of them did not want to. Asianite was developed as a smattering of all the languages, but mostly emerged from Chinese and Korean. over time, Chinese speakers dwindled, and Asianite speakers grew. 

most of the colonies adopted the languages of their central government, or whoever settled them, and sometimes the language of where ever the colonists came from. By 2550, the Major Language is English, which is spoken in the Empire and the Republic. New Lisbon speaks Eorpan for the most part, although Portuguese is sometimes used for official purposes. Asianite is spoken by a vast number of the colonies, but no major government currently uses it, and only a few people speak it in the spaceways (off their own planets). Spanglish is also a major language, replacing spanish (which few people still speak, it being replaced by Spanglish and Eorpan, as well as a host of other languages). 

English itself has shifted slightly, with a wealth of new words added in, and loan words from other languages. if a person was taken from the year 2000, and put in 2550, he would find it much harder to understand the language. most of the shift happened during the dark ages, and many sub-dialects of english exist from different planets. english from former ISUA planets is much closer to the english of 2000 than many of the colonies, as is the english of  colonies which maintained some semblance of technology (such as radio) such as New England. however, many of the earliest colonies to collapse have had massive changes, and some are considered not to be even a sub-dialect but an entirely new language.

just some background information on the languages of Scattered Nations. not sure how danansan feels exactly on the subject, but providing some background information is as interesting as a story, plus i think that language would have shifted in 500 years. also, i have lately been doing some updates to the Timeline, and to a few other pages of the site. finally, i have been trying to find an easy way to be able to get the posts to be displayed in order, with an easy link to the first post. so far, not really working. 

oh hey Harnam, what you got there?!?” WHACK

“That was for excessive use of punctuation. You only use one. Also, i am not stupid enough to go for a full frontal attack like described above. Next time i am sure he will describe it correctly, and realistically” says Harnam, looking down at the flattened body of thegreatpl. he then drops the book on punctuation, used as a bludgeoning tool last, onto the body and walks out.

at the door he pauses, looks back, frowns, and finally says “you look remarkably like an employer of mine” before turning and leaving. 

a little bit of silliness to make up for the lack of story this (last, i really need to stop staying up ’till the early hours of the morning) week, and for next, when i also wont be able to post (might have time to write something though, who knows?). whatever your writing danansan, you really ought to post something soon.  

The clock ticked slowly on the wall, around to the hour of one, and then a large stuffed bird sprang out of the clock, with the sound of a gunshot, before disappearing back into the recess it had emerged from. The man blinked and wore a look of shock. He turned to the secretary, who shrugged apologetically. 

“It’s a genuine Empress Hera cuckoo clock, with a stuffed Flight Cuckoo from Flight in it. She kind of went for accuracy when making it” the secretary said. 

“It seems nice. Good craftsmanship anyway” the man replied. 

“Yes, the Empress always was good at woodwork, and hunting. Better than some of the others anyway” 

“Others?” 

“Most thought the Grandfather clock was a bit much” 

The man sat in silence for a few minutes. Then asked “What about the Grandfather clock”

“Mainly it was the exhumation that got most people” 

“ah” 

The man continued to sit for several minutes. Then the secretary looked up.

“Mr Herman, if you would please follow me this way. Oh, and say everything I say, exactly as I say it” 

The man stood up and nodded. 

They entered a corridor. And after some time, the secretary shouted out “Oranges are good for you” 

Herman repeated this, and the secretary nodded and continued. After some time, and several more obscure phrases, they reached a security checkpoint. 

“I know this might not be good for you, Mr Herman, but could you please remove your weapons here. All of them. You will be able to retrieve them later” the secretary said. The security droids just stood there brooding, but the machine guns they used as arms were pointing at Herman. Herman sighed and began to remove weapons from their hidden recesses. Soon, a small pile of knives and handguns had accumulated on the table. 

Finally, Herman stood up and nodded to show he was done. The secretary made to continue, but then stopped and listened to a voice no one else could hear. 

“And the plastic knife in your boot” he finally said, not turning around. 

Herman removed the offending item, a 4 inch blade, from his boot. The secretary nodded and they continued down the passage, saying more things which seemed completely random. They even shouted down the Empress at one point, only to praise her at another. They declared themselves to be friends and foe, and just when Herman had had just about enough, the secretary said “we’re here” and opened a door and stood aside to allow Herman in. 

Inside, a man behind a desk, with a green hair which just could not be natural, and a desk that concealed the man from the waist down. 

“Ah, Mr Herman, or should I call you Harnam?” the man behind the desk said. 

“I find that Herman is more British” 

“Of course not. We are after all, a multicultural society, whatever that is” 

“Ah, right then. You can call me what you like. Can we get down to business, my time is money after all” 

“Of course. Now to business. I have particular need for…your talents, shall we say?”

“Some of my clients prefer to call it that. Who’s the target” 

“Ah, well then. The target is Alan Trotsky Jackson”

“One of the founders of the New Lisbon regime?” 

“Indeed. I would prefer him to be killed with this, but if you cant do it with this, him just being dead will do” the man behind the desk hefted a large item onto the desk. 

“What is it”

“An Icepick. You have to be a historian to appreciate the Irony”

“Lolololololololol” said Harnam picking up the weapon. Paul Green rolled his eyes.

“Now, let us talk price…”

***

Eventually, Harnam left, satisfied with his new contract. The secretary then came in. 

“Are you sure it is wise hiring a freelancer, sir?”

“Of course. Harnam has a good record. Besides, even if he is caught, then nothing really matters” Paul Green said from behind his desk. 

“Sir?”

“Trotsky isnt really involved in politics anymore, but is as well guarded than any of the others. Im sending a message. You cant get me, but I can get you, or at least am willing to try” 

“You think Joseph Nilats will accept that?”

“No, he isnt the sort to”

***

Harnam smiled as he bordered the liner. This would be fun. More fun than that time spent on Undead Adventure. And it was hard to beat those sort of thrills.

another new story. yay. and this one is to Harnam, who asked to be featured in one of my stories either as an assassin or a warlord. well harnam, your an assassin. i dunno how long i will keep his character in for. and yes, he does really go lolololololol. maybe this will make him read this. 

looking at how many hits we get a month, it seems to be holding at around 65-70+. dunno how many of them are return hits. and during this time we update maybe 3 or 4 times. (or at least, i do).