Unnamed lensman/ culture fic.
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Oh yes, kill Culture citizens. That's really not going to do anything to offend them.XANATOS wrote:why waste time secureing the system destroy it and move
much to dangerous to stay in one place to long
its not like the gp is killing people
whats passes for people in the culture
is little more than domesticated animals
or better known as house pets not
worth saveing
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No the Culture aren't as mad as they're going to get, and attacking civilians would push the Culture to doing some very nasty things.XANATOS wrote:who cares about offending the
culture if your already at war
there already as mad as there going
to get
in war there are no noncombantants
any one who makes a gun for your enemy or pays
taxes to your enemy or suports your enemy
is a target
Titan Princeps of the Mecha Maniacs: Gloriam Imperator
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
HALOite, Robotech/Macross supporter, 40Ker, and part-time Warsie.
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
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You bet it is.FBHthelizardmage wrote:*blows dust off fic*
Ok, time to get writing again.
Titan Princeps of the Mecha Maniacs: Gloriam Imperator
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
HALOite, Robotech/Macross supporter, 40Ker, and part-time Warsie.
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
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Oh... a new chapter of... no new chapter ?FBHthelizardmage wrote:*blows dust off fic*
Ok, time to get writing again.
need MORE ! MORE...
Programming today is a race between software engineers striving to build bigger and better idiot-proof programs, and the Universe trying to produce bigger and better idiots. So far, the Universe is winning.
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*Points the culture plasma gun from Gift at FBH and sets the tracking mode on, and watches as the gun aims for him.*FBHthelizardmage wrote: Calm down calm down, creativity cannot be rushed.
I think you'll find that it can.
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OOC and you thought this was another procrastination post didn't you?
DREG
“Of all the places to pick for a base....” Sergent Bob Jetson of the Galatic Patrol Marines twiched, trying to keep the water out of his armour’s neck. Bob had reservations about wearing armour here. This wasn’t Boskonia. People didn’t wander round in combat armour. He felt.... obvious. Obvious was bad when your enemy could crack open your armour force shields and all with a few good hits... plus, the armour hadn’t been designed for use without helmets, the rain was running down inside it.
“Ha! Ours is not to reason why Sarge. “ Corperal Lev Forthworth laughed and lit up his cigar.
“They say those things will kill you...” Bob looked out over the street. The two marines were guarding one of the Patrols facilities on the planet: a set of ware houses surrounded by a parameter fence where local technology that had been salvaged was collected before being shipped back home for study.
“I hear the Medicals can cure that now...” Lev looked took a long drag... then looked up. “Hey, better get ready, I see truck lights.”
The two men straighted to something like attention and hefting their guns faced the approaching truck. It pulled to a stop beside them and the driver looked out of the window. Both men relaxed. They knew the driver... still, Lev ran a scanner (locally made, not necessarily better than what they had, but far smaller) across the man just to be sure. “So what you carrying this time Paul?”
The driver, a huge man of African descent, laughed. “Haven’t you to seen the posters? Lose lips sink ships and all!”
“Nah... we’re just testing to see if you gone soft Corporal.” Bob smiled at the other patrolman. “Take it in...”
Terrilia lay on a nearby roof, The scanner head set she wore was about 10,000 years in advanced of local stuff at the current rate they were advancing. How good is was compared to the invaders.... she had no idea.
Staying ahead of them had been a nightmare. Hiding among the normal population just didn’t work, as many of their agents carried a effector device which they used routinely to read minds.
The device resembled a lens, and glowed. So far, she had not been able to obtain one, since they seemed set to self destruct when their wearer died. Internal scans of them had also been inconclusive.
The lens, like so much about the invaders remained a mystery.
A mystery she hoped to at least partly solve by this little outing...
Bob looked up as his trained hearing picked up a slight sound above him... bird?
“You hear something Lev?”
“Nope... that doesn’t mean there wasn’t nothing though...”
Both men turned and hefted their guns. Whatever it was, Bob thought, had come from the roof of one of the out buildings...
“Better call this in Lev... I’ll go check it...”
As Lev keyed his walkie talkie Bob ignited his jets and flew up onto the roof.
No movement... no sudden blurs of knife death... no Culture Agents.
He moved cautiously across the roof, hoping that it wouldn’t collapse under him. Construction around here was shoddy at best... A bird suddenly shot from the edge of the gutters shooting passed his face and away.
“Klono’s Carbon Claws!” Bob, disloged by the creature’s frantic flight, scrabbling frantically for balance, fell, sliding down through the roof to land on the inside with a thump and an whoof of expelled breath...
As he regained his senses, he found him self face to face with a slightly shocked looking young woman in a black sneak suit.
Then she hit him, and he flew backward, smashing into a pile of boxes... and lay stunned... lucky she didn’t break my kneck... he though groggily. His gun was still attached to him, he groped for it....
“Don’t.” He stopped. The voice was almost exactly what you’d expect from a local upper middle class woman. Rumours said that the Culture could change their looks, voice, sex, even their species if they wanted to... Bob thought it would be only natural for them to apply this to their esponage agents. He took his hand away from his gun and lay there... his eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom and he saw her looking down on him. A slim pistol was aimed very levely at his head.
“Bob? You OK?” came Lev’s from outside....
Bob tensed, he was likely about to die... and there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.
Terrilia, looked down at the man on the floor, her thoughts racing in the slow world of Quicken.
where hell are you Quedran? Terrilia thought into her communicator...
The little missile appeared by her. sorry, just looking around...oh, I see your problem.
I think we’d better be leaving...
what about him? the missile pointed itself at the downed man.
knock him out...
you know, pragmatically we’d be better off if he died.
yeah, well, pragmatically I’d like to be able to look in mirrors from now on. So stun the him and lets get moving.
Bob’s body became tingly all of a sudden, and he fell into unconsciousness.
He awoke to Lev bending over him. “Sarge! Sarge?! Are you OK?”
“Mwghhuuu..” Bob said intelligently... then as he regained his senses: “Call out an alert! A goddamn Culture agent was just here! “
The corporal blanched and reached for his communicator. Bob began to rise to his feet. She was probably long gone by now.
Bob would rather not have dwelt on his near death experience, but during the subsquent search of the compound, he found his mind wandering back to it.
Why didn’t she kill me? Had It been a patrol agent, or a Boskonian, he would have died pretty much as a matter of course. No quarter given... Yet, he lived... this certainly was a strange universe.
DREG
“Of all the places to pick for a base....” Sergent Bob Jetson of the Galatic Patrol Marines twiched, trying to keep the water out of his armour’s neck. Bob had reservations about wearing armour here. This wasn’t Boskonia. People didn’t wander round in combat armour. He felt.... obvious. Obvious was bad when your enemy could crack open your armour force shields and all with a few good hits... plus, the armour hadn’t been designed for use without helmets, the rain was running down inside it.
“Ha! Ours is not to reason why Sarge. “ Corperal Lev Forthworth laughed and lit up his cigar.
“They say those things will kill you...” Bob looked out over the street. The two marines were guarding one of the Patrols facilities on the planet: a set of ware houses surrounded by a parameter fence where local technology that had been salvaged was collected before being shipped back home for study.
“I hear the Medicals can cure that now...” Lev looked took a long drag... then looked up. “Hey, better get ready, I see truck lights.”
The two men straighted to something like attention and hefting their guns faced the approaching truck. It pulled to a stop beside them and the driver looked out of the window. Both men relaxed. They knew the driver... still, Lev ran a scanner (locally made, not necessarily better than what they had, but far smaller) across the man just to be sure. “So what you carrying this time Paul?”
The driver, a huge man of African descent, laughed. “Haven’t you to seen the posters? Lose lips sink ships and all!”
“Nah... we’re just testing to see if you gone soft Corporal.” Bob smiled at the other patrolman. “Take it in...”
Terrilia lay on a nearby roof, The scanner head set she wore was about 10,000 years in advanced of local stuff at the current rate they were advancing. How good is was compared to the invaders.... she had no idea.
Staying ahead of them had been a nightmare. Hiding among the normal population just didn’t work, as many of their agents carried a effector device which they used routinely to read minds.
The device resembled a lens, and glowed. So far, she had not been able to obtain one, since they seemed set to self destruct when their wearer died. Internal scans of them had also been inconclusive.
The lens, like so much about the invaders remained a mystery.
A mystery she hoped to at least partly solve by this little outing...
Bob looked up as his trained hearing picked up a slight sound above him... bird?
“You hear something Lev?”
“Nope... that doesn’t mean there wasn’t nothing though...”
Both men turned and hefted their guns. Whatever it was, Bob thought, had come from the roof of one of the out buildings...
“Better call this in Lev... I’ll go check it...”
As Lev keyed his walkie talkie Bob ignited his jets and flew up onto the roof.
No movement... no sudden blurs of knife death... no Culture Agents.
He moved cautiously across the roof, hoping that it wouldn’t collapse under him. Construction around here was shoddy at best... A bird suddenly shot from the edge of the gutters shooting passed his face and away.
“Klono’s Carbon Claws!” Bob, disloged by the creature’s frantic flight, scrabbling frantically for balance, fell, sliding down through the roof to land on the inside with a thump and an whoof of expelled breath...
As he regained his senses, he found him self face to face with a slightly shocked looking young woman in a black sneak suit.
Then she hit him, and he flew backward, smashing into a pile of boxes... and lay stunned... lucky she didn’t break my kneck... he though groggily. His gun was still attached to him, he groped for it....
“Don’t.” He stopped. The voice was almost exactly what you’d expect from a local upper middle class woman. Rumours said that the Culture could change their looks, voice, sex, even their species if they wanted to... Bob thought it would be only natural for them to apply this to their esponage agents. He took his hand away from his gun and lay there... his eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom and he saw her looking down on him. A slim pistol was aimed very levely at his head.
“Bob? You OK?” came Lev’s from outside....
Bob tensed, he was likely about to die... and there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.
Terrilia, looked down at the man on the floor, her thoughts racing in the slow world of Quicken.
where hell are you Quedran? Terrilia thought into her communicator...
The little missile appeared by her. sorry, just looking around...oh, I see your problem.
I think we’d better be leaving...
what about him? the missile pointed itself at the downed man.
knock him out...
you know, pragmatically we’d be better off if he died.
yeah, well, pragmatically I’d like to be able to look in mirrors from now on. So stun the him and lets get moving.
Bob’s body became tingly all of a sudden, and he fell into unconsciousness.
He awoke to Lev bending over him. “Sarge! Sarge?! Are you OK?”
“Mwghhuuu..” Bob said intelligently... then as he regained his senses: “Call out an alert! A goddamn Culture agent was just here! “
The corporal blanched and reached for his communicator. Bob began to rise to his feet. She was probably long gone by now.
Bob would rather not have dwelt on his near death experience, but during the subsquent search of the compound, he found his mind wandering back to it.
Why didn’t she kill me? Had It been a patrol agent, or a Boskonian, he would have died pretty much as a matter of course. No quarter given... Yet, he lived... this certainly was a strange universe.
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Very interesting indeed.
Titan Princeps of the Mecha Maniacs: Gloriam Imperator
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
HALOite, Robotech/Macross supporter, 40Ker, and part-time Warsie.
"StarDestroyer.net: Even our idiots are smarter." - RedImperator
"A Terminator Space Marine. Also known as your worst nightmare." Stormbringer
"Know the ECM. Love the ECM. Cherish the ECM, for it jams thine enemys targeting."- Necronlord
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*de-activates the gun*
See. it can be done.
Humm, interesting.
See. it can be done.
Humm, interesting.
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Culture orbital Broken Dawn, Day one of the occupation.
William Brass looked down at the viewing plate showing the orbital’s “Hub” around which large super atomic charges were being emplaced.
Originally the plan had called for the anniliation of any Culture habitat the Patrol encountered, however, this had been rejected on the grounds of the simple usefulness of orbitals. First, there was the sheer amount of space an orbital had, far more than a planet. Civliisation was running out of room. There were only so many planets in the two galaxies, and most of them already had populations of one sort or another. Medical technology was improving, so people weren’t dying. This would, pretty soon, mean over crowded planets.
Orbitals offered an answer. Simplly move the excess population to giant ring habitats.
Secondly, there was the immense amount of industry: a “Hoola Hoop” (as the Patrol’s lower ranks had named Orbitals) contained. Even if Civilisation didn’t want (and it most assuredly didn’t), to adopt the Culture’s automated industry, it could still learn a lot from their production.
This, if they wanted to see any of the systems in anything like working order meant that they couldn’t kill the Hub. So, they rigged it with large bombs instead.
The next problem was the ‘Hoop’s’ propulation. First, the ‘Hoops’ were a huge area to garrison. They would require massive numbers of troops for effective control, should their people seek to actively resist. Second, the Lensman planning teams were unsure as to the ability of their ground forces to fight of legions of battle drones, or suited Culture soilders. Not that the Culture were likely to deploy that kind of stuff on one of its own orbitals. However, chances would not be taken. So, not only had an entire new navy been built in the thirty years since the Culture had been discovered, but an entirely new army too.
The basic unit was a tank sized machine, countroled by copies of locally made electronics. It wasn’t as fast as a combat drone, but it might (considering the layers of shielding it had) be tough enough to take one on.
So, the plans swung into action. Troops were landing, and moving to secure the major cities and factory complexes. Various messages telling the people of their liberation were being flashed across all channels of the Orbital’s communications networks.
There was a final stage to be implemented, all of the the vast work of passification would be much easier if the Orbital was back home in the Lensmans’ home dimension... So, giant Berganhomes were being built in order to move the entire thing.
With all this going on and needing direction, William almost didn’t have time to actually go and see the Orbital they’d shed so much blood for.
Uegan Velng stood in the dock section and tried not to look nervous. He was going to be one of the first Culture humans to meet the invaders (Civlisation they called them selves...a name as hubris as the Culture’s own) in a context other than attempting to kill one another. With him was Sathra Nish, a Representative of the Culture’s board, a Hub avatar, two concerned human citizens who he didn’t know, and one of the Orbitals senior drones, behind them were a crowd of press people.
The representatives of ‘Civilisation’ came in two vehicles. The first smaller one seemed packed with armourment. Four bulky weapons tracked around the bay as it entered, then swung to track the drones. Its hatch opened and a dozen massive suited marines moved out, each carrying a massive gun on a hydralic frame. From each man’s back hung a huge axe. They deployed around the bay in a professional fashion, weapons covering the exits but also keeping a wary eye on the Culture personel.
The Second shuttle also docked, and more armoured troops deployed. As the last of them got into position, a man clad in some form of grey leather stepped out onto the bay. On one of his arms a platinum band held one of the glowing lens, the effector devices seemed to be a symbol of rank for the invaders.
The man walked briskly up to the waiting group.
The Hub Avatar stepped foward and gave a short bow. “ Welcome to Broken Dawn, Lensman.”
The man smiled “Its good to be here machine.”
The rest of the group introduced themselves. Then the Lensman stepped past them to talk to the press.
“Lensman. Can you tell us why you have attacked us?” A woman in the front shouted.
“I most certainly can Miss. Our attack on the Culture is it not a selfish act. Rather, we wish to save you, from yourselves or rather your machines. Your society has fallen into a pit of decedence, your machines rule you. Worse you seem intent on dragging other societies down into this pit with you. This we cannot allow. ”
There was a silence after that, before one of the journalists plucked up courage to ask the next question: “So what can we expect in this occupation?”
“Well, At first at least your lives will not change much. However, there will be certain restrictions placed on you... You will not be allowed to own weapons for example. you must obey the commands of our troops, and of course we will be taking countrol of your education system.”
“Our Education system?” The journalist asked puzzled.
“Yes, if we wish to change your society then we need to start with the young, you’ll all have to be retrained eventually. After all, we intend to demachinise your industry, you’ll have to keep it running.”
The silence that followed that last was even more stunned.
“You want to put us back into the age of scarcity?!” Someone finally said.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, We just want to make sure you, not your machines are in control of your society.”
“So what is your attitude to sentient machines going to be?”
“Less of them will be made. But they are still useful. Their numbers will decline but they will still have a part in society.” The Lensman looked at his watch ” Now if your’ll excuse me...”
He turned and walked back to the Orbitals representatives. “Is there a meeting room we can go away from the press?”
“Of course,” the board rep sounded a little shaken, “This way...”
A dozen guards fell in around them as they walked towards the Orbital’s transport system.
William Brass looked down at the viewing plate showing the orbital’s “Hub” around which large super atomic charges were being emplaced.
Originally the plan had called for the anniliation of any Culture habitat the Patrol encountered, however, this had been rejected on the grounds of the simple usefulness of orbitals. First, there was the sheer amount of space an orbital had, far more than a planet. Civliisation was running out of room. There were only so many planets in the two galaxies, and most of them already had populations of one sort or another. Medical technology was improving, so people weren’t dying. This would, pretty soon, mean over crowded planets.
Orbitals offered an answer. Simplly move the excess population to giant ring habitats.
Secondly, there was the immense amount of industry: a “Hoola Hoop” (as the Patrol’s lower ranks had named Orbitals) contained. Even if Civilisation didn’t want (and it most assuredly didn’t), to adopt the Culture’s automated industry, it could still learn a lot from their production.
This, if they wanted to see any of the systems in anything like working order meant that they couldn’t kill the Hub. So, they rigged it with large bombs instead.
The next problem was the ‘Hoop’s’ propulation. First, the ‘Hoops’ were a huge area to garrison. They would require massive numbers of troops for effective control, should their people seek to actively resist. Second, the Lensman planning teams were unsure as to the ability of their ground forces to fight of legions of battle drones, or suited Culture soilders. Not that the Culture were likely to deploy that kind of stuff on one of its own orbitals. However, chances would not be taken. So, not only had an entire new navy been built in the thirty years since the Culture had been discovered, but an entirely new army too.
The basic unit was a tank sized machine, countroled by copies of locally made electronics. It wasn’t as fast as a combat drone, but it might (considering the layers of shielding it had) be tough enough to take one on.
So, the plans swung into action. Troops were landing, and moving to secure the major cities and factory complexes. Various messages telling the people of their liberation were being flashed across all channels of the Orbital’s communications networks.
There was a final stage to be implemented, all of the the vast work of passification would be much easier if the Orbital was back home in the Lensmans’ home dimension... So, giant Berganhomes were being built in order to move the entire thing.
With all this going on and needing direction, William almost didn’t have time to actually go and see the Orbital they’d shed so much blood for.
Uegan Velng stood in the dock section and tried not to look nervous. He was going to be one of the first Culture humans to meet the invaders (Civlisation they called them selves...a name as hubris as the Culture’s own) in a context other than attempting to kill one another. With him was Sathra Nish, a Representative of the Culture’s board, a Hub avatar, two concerned human citizens who he didn’t know, and one of the Orbitals senior drones, behind them were a crowd of press people.
The representatives of ‘Civilisation’ came in two vehicles. The first smaller one seemed packed with armourment. Four bulky weapons tracked around the bay as it entered, then swung to track the drones. Its hatch opened and a dozen massive suited marines moved out, each carrying a massive gun on a hydralic frame. From each man’s back hung a huge axe. They deployed around the bay in a professional fashion, weapons covering the exits but also keeping a wary eye on the Culture personel.
The Second shuttle also docked, and more armoured troops deployed. As the last of them got into position, a man clad in some form of grey leather stepped out onto the bay. On one of his arms a platinum band held one of the glowing lens, the effector devices seemed to be a symbol of rank for the invaders.
The man walked briskly up to the waiting group.
The Hub Avatar stepped foward and gave a short bow. “ Welcome to Broken Dawn, Lensman.”
The man smiled “Its good to be here machine.”
The rest of the group introduced themselves. Then the Lensman stepped past them to talk to the press.
“Lensman. Can you tell us why you have attacked us?” A woman in the front shouted.
“I most certainly can Miss. Our attack on the Culture is it not a selfish act. Rather, we wish to save you, from yourselves or rather your machines. Your society has fallen into a pit of decedence, your machines rule you. Worse you seem intent on dragging other societies down into this pit with you. This we cannot allow. ”
There was a silence after that, before one of the journalists plucked up courage to ask the next question: “So what can we expect in this occupation?”
“Well, At first at least your lives will not change much. However, there will be certain restrictions placed on you... You will not be allowed to own weapons for example. you must obey the commands of our troops, and of course we will be taking countrol of your education system.”
“Our Education system?” The journalist asked puzzled.
“Yes, if we wish to change your society then we need to start with the young, you’ll all have to be retrained eventually. After all, we intend to demachinise your industry, you’ll have to keep it running.”
The silence that followed that last was even more stunned.
“You want to put us back into the age of scarcity?!” Someone finally said.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, We just want to make sure you, not your machines are in control of your society.”
“So what is your attitude to sentient machines going to be?”
“Less of them will be made. But they are still useful. Their numbers will decline but they will still have a part in society.” The Lensman looked at his watch ” Now if your’ll excuse me...”
He turned and walked back to the Orbitals representatives. “Is there a meeting room we can go away from the press?”
“Of course,” the board rep sounded a little shaken, “This way...”
A dozen guards fell in around them as they walked towards the Orbital’s transport system.
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