Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-10-30 12:20am
by JGregory32
Can we please include the song "March of Cambreadth" in here somewhere?
For those not familiar it is possibly the BEST battle song ever written/sung.
Here's the lyrics:
Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour's piercing ring
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight Those Bastards till They Yield
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!
Follow orders as you're told,
Make Their Yellow Blood Run Cold
Fight until you die or drop,
A Force Like Ours is Hard to Stop
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight till You're No Longer Sane
Let not one damn cur pass by,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!
Guard your women and children well,
Send These Bastards Back to Hell
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They Won't Come Here Any More
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight till Every One is Dead
Raise the flag up to the sky,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!
Dawn has broke, the time has come,
Move Your Feet to a Marching Drum
We'll win the war and pay the toll,
We'll Fight as One in Heart and Soul
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!
REPEAT FIRST VERSE
The song was distributed free with the Ghost CD from Baen Books, get all the Baen books CD's for Free from
http://baencd.thefifthimperium.com/
Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-11-02 10:04pm
by FLCNPNCH
Lots of stuff to say here, mainly things I've pondered over the course of reading this brilliant story but haven't had the chance to say due to not being registered.
First off, where would Disgaea/Makai Kingdom fit into all this?
Since every universe apparantly has a Netherworld, and the residents of said Netherworlds are stupid-powerful d(a)emons, some of whom could slap newChaos (Heck, even 40k proper) around like red-headed stepchildren (Laharl and co, for instance), and are fully capable of interdimensional travel on a whim, perhaps the Netherworlds exist -inside- the Warp as large swaths of (something vaguely akin to) reality centered around a single stupid-powerful daemon, the Overlord? It would certainly explain why relatively few universes have to worry about warp-spawned horrors - they're there all right, but they couldn't give a rats ass about the Materium. After all, it's so -dull- over there!
Either way, Disgaea would definitely fit in well. Heck, if newChaos really wanted to utterly overpower the C'tan they could just find Lord Zetta (The Most Badass Overlord In The Multiverse) and tell him that the C'tan called him a douche. Sure, the rest of their universe may get taken out as collateral damage, but at least the C'tan would be dead. Very dead.
Another thing I would love to see would be the Chzo Mythos. It's the only Cthulu Mythos-esque thing I've seen where the Cosmic Horror is more than a rampaging evil that wants to eat souls (In this case its a *SPOILERxanatosgambitingmagnificentbastardSPOILER*). Also Trilby, who is style incarnate. I'd love to see whether Lars would crap his pants if he was dropped into the middle of Notes. Probably not, but I mean, it'd only be -scarier- if you could see what was going on behind the scenes with psychic powers...He'd at least be moderately afraid for his life. And an encounter with Chzo itself would not end well at all. Or perhaps the Stiletto finds a mysterious locker floating around in space...I doubt that the crew would be able to just brush DeFoe off, considering what he becomes at the end of the final game.
And, in regards to the comment made by Tzeench in Thousand Shinji about the world where Gendo wasn't such an ass, I always took that as a reference to Children of an Elder God, where Gendo was actually rather nice and things were generally better off than in canon, despite it being set in the Cthulu Mythos.
Finally, it'd be interesting to see how newChaos' Evas stack up against other super robots, such as GaoGaiGar or Getter Robo.
Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-11-12 01:05am
by Academia Nut
Chapter Forty-five: Departure and Arrival
Striding on to the bridge, Rong-Arya sank down into their command throne and asked cheerfully, “How are preparations going?”
“The ship is at maximum readiness ma’am. Our course is charted and the first step is programmed into our navigation computer. All that is left is for a reply from the Colonials as to whether they want to follow us into the Warp,” Ichiro-Faust reported crisply.
“And the engineers?” Rong-Arya asked.
“They’ve already got the Gellar Field set up to help shield the Colonial ships or for normal operation, as necessary,” Ichiro-Faust reported.
“Excellent. All that is left is for their reply. Lieutenant O’Hare, please inform the Colonials that we are ready to depart and that they have one hour to make their decision to us known,” Rong-Arya replied in a bored tone.
“Transmitting now ma’am,” Lieutenant O’Hare replied.
The debates of the past few days had been fierce, the press coverage oily and backstabbing, the whole affair one long, nasty, drawn out fight over the two dominant philosophies amongst the refugee population of the Colonials: fight or flight. After New Caprica, after seeing what the Cylons still had in reserve, and after everything they had been through, the vast majority of the population wanted to just keep running until they found somewhere the Cylons would never, ever find them.
But then again there were still those who held out hope that maybe one day they would return to their homes. That there was a friend, a family member, a lover, a child still waiting for salvation in the grips of Cylon occupation and if they just fought a little harder they could save them.
And somewhere amongst these two forces there was the fact that many of the Colonials simply did not trust these strange, barely understood newcomers. The long range pictures of the monstrously sculpted, titanic ship had made the rounds like wildfire, blurry images of colossal turrets shaped like screaming demons and structural members that had been crafted to look like tortured souls in the depths of some terrible Hell.
Thus, there were four camps. One group that wanted to take their offer, one group that wanted to leave them and run, one group that wanted to get them to eliminate the Cylons, and one rather deluded group that thought that they could take on the Cylons without help.
The masses were in favour of getting these new comers to eliminate the Cylons so they could all go home and rebuild their shattered lives. The upper levels of government and the military on the other hand knew that the Stiletto had its own problems to worry about and would in no uncertain terms stick around and tried to make that fact clear to the angry, scared populace. The alien warship from Earth could not be bargained with, could not be told to help them.
Thus after a great deal of arguing, the remnant fleet found itself going to the polls once more to decide what to do, only this time there would be no tampering with the ballots, no matter how much the administration might not like the will of the people. They had suffered enough problems last time they did that.
So here it was, the decision: keep running on an uncertain course that no longer had an end point, or follow these strange and terrifying people to the promised world of Earth. The phrase ‘rock and a hard place’ came to mind.
Of course, for Roslin, sitting and waiting for the results to come in was only about the fifth most terrifying thing in the past two days. The fourth being watching the colossal battle between the Cylons and the Stiletto, although the alien warship had considered it a light radiation storm combined with recreation during the boarding phase.
The third most terrifying thing had been boarding the Stiletto and meeting its creepy, unnatural crew and being told the conditions of the deal. Worst of all had been the captain, Rong-Arya, saying, “We have turned lying while telling the truth into an art form, letting people’s own fears and judgements shape the facts into the story they want to hear and we want them to hear. Of course, telling you this is part of the process, and I leave it up to you to figure out how this is shaping your impression of me. As is that statement. And that one. And so on and so forth. It’s really a quite amusing game to play, don’t you think?”
They were devils with silver tongues, but they knew when to approach people with the right offer at the right time.
The second most terrifying thing in the past two days had been sitting on the cold, uncomfortable examination table wearing a flimsy hospital gown waiting for Dr. Cottle to return with the biopsy test results, to see if the gift from Rong-Arya had actually been true and not some trick.
The most terrifying thing however had been asking the strange creature that commanded the Stiletto about the cancer cure only for an enthusiastic veiled man to approach her, saying how it was a joy to work for the Mother and he would gladly taken her burden as his gift. He had been disturbing and intimidating to say the least, speaking of the cancer that was slowly killing her as ‘a naughty child who can’t play nice with others’.
He had then reached out a filth encrusted hand out of the shroud concealing his body and grabbed her by the wrist, punching a twisted, broken, rotten yellow thumbnail into the blood vessels there. Before Roslin or her security detail could react however, she felt the cancer in her body migrating through her arteries, seeking out the intruding thumb and joining with the disease already present. He then withdrew his thumb, leaving behind not a scratch and began humming pleasantly.
An utterly blasé looking Rong-Arya had then said, “Only those who want to get sick do so where we come from.”
What miracles. What horrors. Where these creatures sent by the gods or were they demons sent to lead them astray? Roslin had no idea, not when the report came back that said that not only was her cancer gone, but her blood work was clean of all harmful pathogens and even residual traces of diloxin. It was as if her entire body had been swept clean of poisons and diseases.
For now. As Rong-Arya had said, “Who knows when you could get sick again? You obviously have the risk factors.”
So Roslin waited for the results of the referendum. Everything waited on that result.
Tapping their clawed fingers on the edge of the command throne, Rong-Arya asked, “Have they decided yet?”
“We’ve got some inter-ship chatter as they count up the votes, but nothing definitive yet ma’am,” O’Hare replied.
“Five more minutes then,” Rong-Arya noted dryly.
“Going to go early or late?” Ichiro-Faust asked.
“Late of course, we might be chaotic but we’re not complete dicks,” Rong-Arya replied indignantly.
However, at two minutes before the deadline a communication channel opened up and Admiral Adama’s voice was heard over the radio saying, “On behalf of the fleet, I would like to announce that the decision has been reached and the Colonial military will abide by the decision of the people. As such, while individuals are free to follow the Stiletto or stay behind at their discretion, the Galactica will follow or stay as the people demand.”
“Looks like we’ll be bringing a few people along either way,” Rong-Arya noted away from the pick up mike.
There was a moment’s pause before Roslin’s voice was heard over the channel as she said, “Before I announce the results of the referendum, please allow me to make it clear that as with the military, the political apparatus will follow the decision of the people, and despite any personal feelings on the matter, we too will do as the people request of us and maintain a unified front.”
“Sounds like they’re staying,” Ichiro-Faust mused.
Pursing their lips, Rong-Arya replied, “Perhaps they are… and perhaps they know how contentious the issue is and are thus outlining beforehand that they are forming a unified block to prevent people on the losing side from leaving en masse. If their little fleet is split in half the outcome would be… disastrous for them.”
Ichiro-Faust thought about this for a moment before nodding in agreement.
There was another moment of silence before Roslin announced, “Having counted all of the votes, we have a 53/47 decision… to follow the Stiletto to Earth.”
“I don’t think she liked that decision,” Rong-Arya noted. “I guess her belief that we are monsters outweighed her desire to be free of disease and to have a home again. Ah well, you can’t please everyone all the time. Please begin sending directions to the fleet on how to form up with us as we activate our drives. Oh, and remind them once again that this is going to be a long trip.”
“They already informed us that they recently stocked up on food and other consumables when we laid out the plan for them to consider,” O’Hare pointed out.
“It bears repeating in any case. Where we’re headed the highest form of energy storage is probably anti-matter. Ugh… artificial gravity without forward or rotational acceleration, not for me thanks,” Rong-Arya replied.
“Technically that’s just simulated gravity,” Xavier pointed out.
“Shut it. Let’s get this show on the road; we don’t want to spend any more time in a backwater universe than we have to. Makes our skin crawl in such lower energy places,” Rong-Arya replied in an annoyed tone.
“So we’re really doing it,” Adama commented as the Galactica formed up close to the monster ship, the rest of the fleet in similar positions all within four hundred metres of the behemoth.
“Doesn’t feel frakking right,” Tigh commented bitterly. “We shouldn’t be leaving.”
“Perhaps not, but where else do we have if we don’t follow these people back to Earth, where else will we go now?” Adama asked sadly. How strange for a lie to transform into something like this. Perhaps it there was some truth to how lies could take on a life of their own if left alone too long.
Staring quietly at the DRADIS read out for the monster as it began to do something to local space-time, William wondered what his lies to inspire hope in the survivors had spawned.
For a long period of time, about fourteen billion years or so, give or take a couple hundred million, the most interesting thing to pass through a particular patch of space was the occasional rock-ice comet, while in the system of this particularly unimpressive red dwarf star the only thing in particular of note was a pair of dimples in space time left over from the Big Bang that served as doorways to other parts of the universe. However, these dimples did not lead anywhere particularly interesting either, so local sentient organisms had only bothered to place a small listening post there, along with a linear accelerator to move about mass between the wormholes to keep them stable.
In short, the place where the Stiletto decided to bend the laws of physics over a table and violate in multiple orifices simultaneously was rather unprepared for the abrupt arrival of the warship and the Colonial Fleet that accompanied it.
Their flames dimming slightly as the shock of arrival in this new, lower energy reality took a toll on both Rong-Arya and Ichiro-Faust but they both quickly recovered despite the discomfort and the captain immediately snapped to attention. “Begin a full sweep of this system. We want to know if anything is alive out there.”
“Aye-aye ma’am,” Xavier reported as he set the ships’ sensors to work. Already powerful radar, microwave scans, and lidar sweeps were pulsing out at the speed of light, probing at the surrounding bubble of reality, but rushing ahead of them were psychic signals that dance along the substructure of reality, foreign things that did not belong, but had to belong because the crew of the Stiletto proved their existence.
“Galactica is also performing sensor sweeps. Getting superluminal feeds in now… huh… that’s unlucky,” Xavier noted unhappily.
“There’s someone here,” Rong-Arya replied in annoyance. Space was supposed to be huge, and yet three times in a row when they had dropped into a new universe the locals had been in system.
“Looks like a listening post and a pair of cosmic formed wormholes. Nothing major, but in about two minutes our light cone will reach them, and we’re radiating pretty brightly. They would have to be blind to miss us,” Xavier replied.
Tzintchi was fucking with them… somehow. Somehow the bastard was sitting on his throne back on Earth, fingers bridged under such that his mouth was concealed, and he was cackling while proclaiming, “Just as planned.”
Of course, as Mislaato proved, just because someone was fucking with you didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it.
“How long until our next jump?” Rong-Arya asked.
“It will take the S2 and S3 engines approximately two weeks at current output to build up sufficient fuel reserves to perform an interdimensional jump. We are already preparing for all possible scenarios,” Ichiro-Faust reported.
“Including the one where a giant space eel composed of the residue of the universe slithering back through time arrives and attempts to mate with the local star, triggering a sudden outgrowth of petunias on the engine manifold?” Rong-Arya asked sarcastically.
There was silence for a moment before Ichiro-Faust asked, “Do you really think it necessary to bring up Scenario HH-Alpha-3Z?”
“Yes! Because we’re Chaos and shit like this is always happening to us, and as a follower of Tzintchi, I, as in Rong Xun, believe that if something completely random like that shows up to bite you in the ass then you had it coming for not having the a dozen or two contingency plans in place necessary to turn things to your favour,” Rong-Arya declared.
“Do we need to include the…” Ichiro-Faust began.
“Yes! We do! Sorry, but Arya is kind of groggy in this universe since as a Daemon Prince he kind of sucks up a lot of energy, so I’m feeling a bit bitchy, okay?” Rong replied.
“Yes ma’am. Of course ma’am,” Ichiro-Faust replied.
Sighing, Rong rubbed her forehead and said, “First contact… again. Ugh. O’Hare, please inform the Colonials of our discovery. And would one of the Mislaato fucks out there get me some aspirin? Two weeks in this place… I hope we can shoot something.”
“Battle would deplete our reserves and thus prolong our stay ma’am,” Ichiro-Faust pointed out.
Raising an eyebrow in annoyance, Rong did not have to say another word before the other daemonhost shut up.
In the wisdom of the Praxis, the Shaa had not equipped the surveillance posts with particularly sophisticated sensor packages, seeing them as a waste for stations designed to simply monitor traffic in and out of the wormholes and guarantee their stability. As such, they actually missed the unnatural light show that heralded the arrival of the Stiletto and her charges.
They did not however miss the sudden high powered scans that began to bounce off their sensor arrays, announcing the arrival of the something with potent electromagnetic sensors into their system.
“What in the name of the Shaa is going on down here?” Lieutenant Ferdinand demanded as he floated into the now absolutely chaotic main command chamber.
“Sir, unknown contacts just… appeared,” Luuka, the Lai-own NCO on duty reported crisply. “Triangulating now with the opposite outpost, but they appear to be a cluster of ships in orbit between the star’s second and third debris rings, somewhere between two and three light minutes distant. Current vector relationship states that… they should have passed within three light seconds of us two months ago.”
“That’s impossible,” Ferdinand noted angrily.
“Rerunning calculations. Same result. Running diagnostic program. No errors detected. Rerunning calculations. Sir, I cannot account for these readings,” Luuka replied, raising her throat to her superior officer for punishment if necessary.
Looking over the displayed calculations, Ferdinand frowned and replied, “I see no error in your work. Gather more data and account for them.”
“By the Praxis sir,” Luuka replied before her avian face contorted in a way that Terrans could only understand as displeasure after long contact with a Lai-own. “Sir, emissions from the most powerfully emitting contact have dropped off and assumed a structured pattern, a reading of prime numbers along with a repeating sequence.”
“Decipher what you can,” Ferdinand ordered. “Meanwhile, we must inform the rest of the Empire. Emil, prepare a data burst to go through the wormhole, detailing what we know and requesting further instruction.”
The Terran communication NCO nodded and immediately began compiling the appropriate message.
A few minutes later Luuka squawked slightly and said, “Sir, secondary pattern has been deciphered; it is a set of instructions for interpreting binary digital logic using the prime numbers as a starting point, followed by what appears to be a communication codec using said logic.”
There was silence for a time before Ferdinand asked, “Are you trying to tell me that the unknowns just sent us basic comm. information?”
“Yes sir. The logic is basic and I see no reason why it should be transmitted, but the codec is… strange. It follows no computer science theorems approved by the Praxis for use in communications, but it is conceptually sound,” Luuka reported.
“Can we implement it?” Ferdinand asked.
“I would advise caution, but if we create the codec on an isolated drive we should be able to get it working within an hour. The program is simple enough,” Luuka replied.
Ferdinand glanced over at Emil who said, “All relevant information has been added to the message, response time should be within a day.”
Nodding, Ferdinand said, “Emil, Luuka, I want you two to isolate a drive and have us ready to talk with them as quickly as possible. The Praxis states that everything that can be known is already known, so I want us to live up to that lofty ideal. Meanwhile, begin counter-broadcasting prime numbers.”
An hour later and Ferdinand had a small drive loaded with the apparently alien codec and connected to one of their secondary communication arrays, the entire system isolated from the rest of the computers physically. By that time the data packet had changed to a different set, obviously something meant to be run by the codec. Plugging the new data into the isolated drive, they all watched as it was interpreted.
“The contents are audio data, unknown language sir,” Emil stated.
“Play it,” Ferdinand ordered, which caused a strange voice to play over the speakers.
“Sounds vaguely like one of the ancient Terran languages,” Ferdinand, who as a Peer had a classical education in the history of the Empire and its conquests, noted idly. “Conjecture?”
“Phonemes groups are simple and repetitive, they are probably attempting to get us to reply in turn so as to begin learning our language,” Emil guessed.
“My colleague’s assessment seems reasonable if we are dealing with a first contact scenario,” Luuka replied. “Although why they do not continue to use computer communication I do not know.”
“Very well. Broadcast a message to the mystery ship and set it to repeat. ‘This is Outpost 7-53-2 of the Praxis; we demand you identify yourselves and your purpose in our territory’,” Ferdinand ordered, to which his subordinates immediately complied.
Only after the message was sent did Emil ask, “Sir, do you think that message was too complex for them?”
“Perhaps, but the Praxis demands nothing less from a Peer,” Ferdinand stated.
Five minutes later the signal changed to a burst code. This time however when it was played it said in perfectly understandable speech, “Greetings Outpost 7-53-2 of the Praxis, this is Captain Rong-Arya of the Chaos frigate Stiletto, also representing the Colonial Remnant Fleet as they are under our protection. We intend you no harm as we are simply recharging our faster than light drives before moving on, but any and all aggression on your part will full and overwhelming might.”
There was a long moment of silence before Ferdinand shouted out, “What?”
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