10
« on: June 04, 2011, 02:53:15 pm »
I've gotten to do a lot of writing lately, but sadly, not a lot of fiction. To commence my return, I figured I'd start up something, a sort of 'choose-your-own' adventure, only choose whatever the hell you people want. I honestly have nothing prepared for this; every decision you make will affect the shape of the tale itself. The more realistic RP suggestions are given, the more intricate and realistic the story becomes. The more off the wall choices I'm forced to write in, the more crazy, offbeat, and hopelessly stupid it becomes (and probably the faster it'll die off). I leave the choice in your hands.
Balbaro, 2180 AD
Silence echoed through the council chambers, and it seemed to oppress one's will to speak. The air was heavy, but the silence was heavier. The air could only barely be felt, but the silence was a looming presence, always filling your senses. The silence meant business.
Most of the assembled masses had never heard this much silence in their lives. For the past hundred years, humanity had stretched across the stars, always eager to expand like humans do, a never ending curiosity. Their lives were filled with the roaring of engines and the humming of machines, the whirring of fans. But this chamber was different. The cooling was silent, the walls coated and thick to dampen as much outside noise as humanly possible. There was no engines, no fans, none of the high-tech machinery that was necessary on spacecraft or biodomes.
This was Balbaro, unofficially known as the council planet, and for good reason. Its atmosphere is nearly an exact match, with naught but an 0.01% increase in gravity from Earth itself. If you didn't know where you were, it would be hard to look outside and tell the difference between the two. Outside of humanity's home planet, Balbaro formed the center of government for the booming human colonies. The symbol of that was the Council chamber, a large auditorium with seats for thousands of onlookers, and at its center sat a panel of diplomats, one for each of the colonies surrounding the planet. Ordinarily, they gathered here once a year to discuss and vote on regulations, but mostly nothing ever really changed. The colonists were competitors, and their governments were the worst. Each was intensely loyal, each wanting their own homeworld to become the dominant center of culture and economy for the Council, and none willing to compromise unless it would be the bane of a common enemy.
However, this was not an ordinary meeting. This was an emergency, and one that no one in the chamber had prepared for. This was a council of war.
Where under ordinary circumstances the auditorium would be open to the public, instead thousands of pilots and soldiers sat, some sent as reinforcements from Earth, most from the various colonies represented on Balbaro, the rest from Balbaro itself. They were gathered together, and none had been given a reason, but everyone knew why. There was going to be an invasion. And just as whatever menace that lurked around the corner invaded their hearts and minds, so did the silence, enveloping them like a fog, draining the last of their hope. The diplomats were all emotionless, but their faces were still grim. Most of the soldiers had already accepted their deaths, the others were just kidding themselves. There was one exception, one man among the crowd that still had hope, still had confidence. And this man was Captain Mach Hunter.
Officially, he wasn't part of the military assembled. He and his group were known as the Mach IIIs, a mercenary outfit. Captain Hunter was a former Marine, one of the best and brightest, but when Earth's government kept pushing farther into space, stretching themselves too thin and leaving colonies to fend for themselves, he got fed up and left. Hunter formed his own crew and started aiding the colonies left behind, giving his aim to the highest bidder. He had done work for half of the council in the past, taking down small-time smugglers here or career killers there. Hunter knew that if they were hiring him, it was because Earth wasn't helping nearly as much as they should, yet again. He also knew that they wouldn't fail. If the council had gathered them, to speak with them all and see their reactions, they wouldn't be handing out death sentences. Nine politicians versus a few thousand angry soldiers wouldn't go well, not well at all.
The lights in the room began to angle, moving off the crowd and focusing on the center podium. It was time to begin.
"Gentlemen," began one of the diplomats, one Mach didn't recognize. "You have been gathered here today to unite forces; to save the colonies of Balbaro. You have been trained to defend us, and within a week's time, you shall. For hostiles are coming."
Hunter smiled. The new diplomat was straight and to the point. He liked that. Outside of the commander's head, the rest of those assembled grew even more somber, if that was possible at all. It was as if the silence had won, and given way to a terrible truth.
The diplomat sighed, and turned toward the rest of the council, as if pleading to be relieved of what he had to say. One look at the rest of the group and he soon lost all hope as well.
"It's the Ogres."
The Ogres were just that, large, hulking humanoids with a guttural language and a passion for war. They had made no attempts to match the English language, and the humans had likewise made no attempt to understand the Ogres, so much so that the true name of their species was still unknown. Luckily, pop culture was there to save the day.
"We don't know why they finally got sick of looking at us, but a fleet is coming, and they're ignoring all our signals. A couple hundred battle cruisers, no idea how many fighters docked on each. All we know is that they plan on killing us, and we need to beat them to the punch. Each of your captains has received our battle plans by mail, they are to read them and go over them with their respective crews. Any questions should be directed back to us, we shall answer any of your concerns as best we can. Dismissed."
Thousands of soldiers stood and began to file out of the chamber, but Mach sat still and his mercenaries stayed with him. He was deep in thought, and would not have noticed even if they had left.
The place had a total of 8,000 seats, split into four sections, and one was left empty with a few empty seats here and there in the others as well. That meant they had a little under 6,000 crew members. Each of their cruisers would take 20 people to man, plus another ten on hand for fighter pilots, meaning 30 people per ship. They'd be stuck with under 200 ships against an entire invasion fleet of Ogres. Hell, what was it he said? 'A couple hundred battle cruisers, no idea how many fighters on each?' That was no doubt a low estimate. It's bad enough being outmanned, but outmanned by spacefaring warmongers twice your size that have been wiping out civilizations before humans made it as far as their own moon? This was going to be a suicide mission, Hunter thought to himself. They better have a damn good plan.
Hunter briefly considered if it would be wise to confront the council right then and there, without bothering to check his messages first. He knew five of the nine already, had dealt with them before, and was sure that they wanted him for something a bit extra if they were to pull this off. By the same token, it was possible that they had explained what they needed of him already in the correspondence, and he didn't want to risk jeopardizing his relationship with the council on the off chance that they survived all this. His Mach IIIs were with him, too, and he might not want to let them in on his discussion. The crew was good, but sometimes they need to be motivated, and for that, they needed to be kept in the dark on occasion. He didn't want to have to waste his time in coming back, either. His comm was left back on the ship, not that it would matter if he brought it. There was no way you could get a signal going in the chamber.
What to do, what to do...
Show Posts
