2481 C. E.
BATTLECRUISER "VINDICATOR"
TERRAN CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
PLANET 2481L38ET, UNKNOWN SYSTEM
Aboard the Vindicator, things felt grim.
‘Our ships are to follow the special enemy arbiter vessel and land in the designated area on the ground, admiral.’
‘But our ships cannot land, sir. They have no landing gear, we will damage the batteries on the lower side, not to mention any antennae we have on our bottom,’ a scientist from the consoles noted.
‘Damn, inform these… Protoss that we cannot land,’ Anders said in suppressed anger. Williams focused and after a few seconds responded.
‘They say that we need not worry about that, admiral. We will leave the ships. That is, empty them.’
‘What? I swear, when this is all over, I’ll personally make these aliens pay, I will!’ Anders growled out.
But there was nothing he could do. Out in the space, the fleet aligned in a column, Vindicator first, and followed a tiny Protoss vessel. The designated “arbiter’s ship” was a bit smaller than a dropship, but its three huge horn-like wings curved smartly backwards made its overall appearance larger. The two carriers were keeping an eye on the column, one at the middle and one at the end. Their mini-fleets of interceptor robo-fighters were at the ready, hovering around the massive carriers like flies, reminding the humans not to make any mistakes.
Chester was analyzing the destination. The planet was mostly covered with lush vegetation, hidden under the many clouds floating above the surface. There were five or six distinct bodies of water – enormous isolated blue oceans, spanning for thousands of square kilometers. The land between them was green, most probably due to the presence of photosynthesizing flora. There was a dusty strip that ran along the equator and the icy poles confirmed the hypothesis that there was water here. Chester wondered how long it would take Umoja to study all the life forms that this planet must be housing.
As the Terrans were entering the planet’s stratosphere, Williams was getting more instructions from the Protoss.
‘The Protoss say that we need to follow the arbiter to the place where we land our ships, admiral.’
‘Hell, there ain’t nothing we can do.’ Anders grumpily responded. He turned to the personnel on the computers. ‘Do what he… Ahem, they, say.’
‘When we get there, we are to land and leave the ships. We may send an SOS if we want to.’
‘Do it.’
‘We will be escorted by their troops to a special open space, where the crews will remain. We can bring supplies like food or things we need to sleep in. If they see us using weapons, though, against them, everybody will die,’ the ghost continued in an emotionless tone.
‘There’s going to be soldiers close to our camp?’ the old man groaned.
‘Erm, yes, we will be guarded while they search the ships for the sphere.’ A pause. ‘They are going to take them apart.’
The admiral’s face became pale and his eyes opened wide and focused on Williams.
‘What did you say, captain?’
‘I am telling you what they are telling me, admiral. They will take the battlecruiser and the other six vessels and everything else that flies apart. Then, they will search the pieces for the sphere. Until then, we will wait for somebody to rescue us, I believe.’
The old man’s fists were clinched so hard that the joints of his phalanges were almost white against the skin of his hands. Everybody on the bridge was beginning to realize the gravity of the situation they were in and some of the men were wishing they hadn’t embarked on this mission. The admiral ordered all officers into the conference room and there, he told them,
'Boys, there is something you should know,' he walked next to a steel box that a crew member brought. 'These aliens are looking for this.'
He opened it and took out a ball. Boris looked at it and two seconds later realized that it was like nothing he had seen before. It was a small sphere, about twenty centimeters in diameter. It had a tarnished dark surface, with several sparkling dots. However, they were moving. More precisely, the sphere was actually transparent. It was the cloud of dark, fluffy gas in int that gave it the color. The bright dots were moving, in its interior. They were, as Paskirov saw to his great surprise, actually tiny sparks of light that slowly moved in various directions, like miniature fireflies.
'This, gentlemen, is Confederate property. It's ours. We found it, we keep it. We will bring it to the Confederacy. At ease.'
Everybody left to their previous tasks.
A while later, in one of the wings of the Vindicator, Paskirov wondered what would become of the sphere. It was a truly wondrous thing, the artifact. Williams was really lucky to have stumbled upon it. Too bad that now it would be taken away by the Protoss, but – they had the greater force so they made the rules. What would the admiral do about it? He surely had to hide it somewhere, because he knew his old boss well enough and Anders was a man who liked to kick back when the situation allowed for it. He would not just let the enemy get the precious thing, for not only was the sphere vital for his retirement, but it was also a trophy, now that the Protoss wanted it. And although the enemy had metaphorically forced him to move at gunpoint, they could not control his plans and wishes. Paskirov hoped, that some vengeance was already underway, so he ordered a lower-ranking man to finish the job at the hammerhead’s restricted access radar apparatus, while he himself headed to the bridge to have a talk with Anders.
‘Permission to speak, sir?’ he said upon entering the bridge close to the admiral.
‘Everything going well down there, Paskirov?’ Anders inquired with suspicion. ‘Why did you come here?’
‘Sir, the repairs are ready. I came, because we could not contact the bridge from the board phones there, something’s wrong with them.’
‘Damn, this pile of rotten old steel will come apart before even these aliens begin working on it. Well, good of you to inform me, anyway,’ the old man replied and Paskirov thanked the heavens that he forgot that there were other phones onboard between the bridge and the hammerhead that could have been used instead. ‘Now that we are stuck here, you might as well be at ease. Hold on! You will be responsible for a group of our crew. You heard how we are moving out. You are taking the gunners from the hammerhead batteries. You are leaving after the engineers have moved out. Am I clear?’
‘Sir, yes, sir! Our boys will be led in order,’ the lieutenant said in a brave voice. ‘Also… May I inquire into the future of our friend, Captain Williams’ discovery?’
‘Yes. We will put it… Wait, let the ghosts leave,’ the admiral waved at any ghosts that could still be here, but there were none. ‘We’ll put it in the repair bay and place explosives there. If anything opens the door without dialing the five-digit code or tries to enter through the walls, an explosion will occur that will destroy the sphere. Also, the sharp tools there might even take out one of these Protoss down. They won’t get what is not theirs and the best thing about it is that it will look like an accident. Clever, no, lieutenant?’
‘Why, quite so, sir,’ Paskirov answered, feigning awe, but on the inside, he was feeling disappointment about how things were developing.
‘Alright, boy, go take care of your men. You will hear when to start moving out.’
Paskirov obeyed the command and decided to head towards the canteen for something. On his way there, he felt fear for what could happen soon, for the unfavorable situation this fleet was now in. For Paskirov, like for everybody onboard, the near future looked bleak. He saw the glowing red sign “CAFETERIA” on the dark steel wall of the narrow corridor and entered through the grey sliding door. In the cafeteria, there were two men, probably gunners, and Chester. Boris walked to his black friend and greeted him.
‘Hello, ready for the humiliation that will be inflicted upon us?’
‘Frankly, Boris, my concern is the sphere. I will try to smuggle a microcamera or something, maybe even my computer. One good thing about this is that we are getting to see alien life, what do you think?’
‘I think that if you care about the sphere, you might be disappointed with what the admiral is planning for it.’ He lowered his voice so that the two others could not hear. ‘Granps has made sure that if we do not get it, no one else will. He’s placing it in a room with explosives that will destroy any unauthorized Protoss.’
‘WHAT?’
‘Hey, quiet. Yes, that’s what he told me personally. Bad news, but that’s that. It will be in the repair bay.’
‘No, way. I’m taking it out with us.’
‘Are you crazy? Who knows what will happen if anyone finds out. There’s nothing you can do, Chester, just let it go.’
‘Yes, there is. I will get there and take Williams’ thing before we all leave.’
‘The probability of success is very low, you know that. Better quit.’
‘I know, Boris. It’s just that…’ he looked the other way. ‘I really want this. It is amazing, this artifact. Plus, it’s not only old Anders’ career that depends on this. Although you are probably right, it is doomed.’
‘You could always try. And then think of an excuse. The other brains have less expertise on most subjects than you, so you should lie them easily. And sooner or later, the problem will be forgotten,’ Paskirov suggested.
‘Yeah, well… I could be taking my pills or something. Probably when the time comes for leaving the ships. But still, I could fail.’
‘You always can, do not worry. This is war, absolutely everything can go wrong at any given moment. We may even die, you and I, unsuspecting and unprepared, from an unexpected explosion at any place on this ship. Danger is everywhere in this world, my friend, creeping next to us in every action we undertake. The thing is not to be afraid. Calamities are rarer than they seem, especially when we have planned things well. Be brave and audacious, so even if you fail, you will try something new and the more things you try, the better chance you have to succeed.’
‘Sure, thanks. I will try. Probably not as easy as it sounds.’
‘Yes. This is essential military philosophy. Also, the second chapter is about friction and how things can… Well, never mind that. Remember – fortoona awdaseys ewvat: fortune favors the audacious. Because they keep trying,’ Paskirov raised his index finger in a mentorial fashion. ‘What is your plan so far, if I may know?’
‘I will go bug something close to the repair bay, so when I am supposed to leave, it will malfunction and… No, wait, that’s stupid. I am not supposed to care about that.’
‘Right. Plan B?’
‘Coming up. How about I forget something important? In my cabin. Something like medicine or whatever. Presumably, I will need it to stay alive, so I will run back, head to the repair bay, take the sphere, hide it in a bag or something and come out.’
‘Not bad. What about the “authorized access” part?’ Paskirov made one of his preemptive looks he two men were gone. ‘There is a five digit code that you will need to crack. Anders told me that himself.’
‘Well,’ Chester looked down in contemplation. ‘There is no built-in lock on the bay door, so they will need to make something improvised. One thing would be weld two steel loops and put a neosteel lock around them. The neosteel locks we have onboard are one model and have 5 digits, so it could be one of those.’
‘See, you can plan it out yourself,’ Paskirov smiled. ‘What if it’s not that?’
‘Right… Then, I will make sure it’s that. I will go and disable the remote controls for opening and closing the door. I think I will even break the door a bit – so that it stays partially open. This way, the guys will be forced to use the locks.’
‘Haha, you will make a good chess player, man,’ Boris laughed. ‘But there is a matter that might annul your success. These Protoss, they can talk to Williams using only thoughts, telepathically. What if they are able to read thoughts and read yours? They will immediately seize you, take the sphere, and either destroy our ships or let us go. In both cases, however, you will be punished severely.’
‘Oh, damn. You are right. Well, I have an idea. You will sedate me. I will take too long to come and you will go back to take me. Then, you will inject me with something that will make me lose consciousness and will take my body out of the ship. Yes, it may work. After all, I may have been to late to actually swallow my pills. Yep, that works. Can you do it, Boris?’
‘Sedate you? Sure, just prepare the syringe. You are the guy with the basic medicine knowledge around here.’
‘It is decided then. Once I come out, I will keep my belongings safe until we are at a calm place where nobody knows about Williams. I’m leaving now, wish me luck,’ Chester stood up. ‘I will tell you when I’m done so that we can arrange my unconsciousness.’
‘Be brave.’
Paskirov waited for several minutes before returning to his post.
***
The evacuation began. The Terrans started leaving the ships, group by group, under the watchful glowing eyes of the Protoss. Paskirov exited through the second door, so he could not see what was happening to Summers or Chester. He could only focus on staying calm and not drawing unnecessary attention to oneself.
For the first time, he could see what the aliens really looked like. There were many of them between the ships now, guiding the groups of Terrans in the designated direction. The Protoss were tall and awe-inspiring, despite for their stance, which was slightly bent forward. They wore dark blue robes and scarves, wound rather loosely around their bodies without any particular symmetry. Under the clothes, Paskirov could see that their chests and shoulders were broad, in contrast to their slim waists. Their legs had two main joints, and unlike the leg of a human, they bent at both the knee, and what seemed to be the heel, like some species of wild animals. He thought that maybe Chester would be interested how the Protoss were stepping on their toes and not on their feet, and how they had only four fingers on their hands, with two of them thumbs. It was also wondrous how their eyes seemed to be made of light instead of flesh and looked like bright glowing little purple drops of gas against their bleak, mouthless and noseless faces. A pity that the first encounter with them had to be in the roles of captives, Boris thought.
The groups were being formed in a rough line and ultimately got directed through a corridor in the nearby wood. This corridor was formed by heavily armed Protoss warriors standing on both sides of a trail between the trees. These particular aliens made a strong impression on Boris when he had a chance to observe them on his way through. They wore full body armor that only left the head and small parts of the body revealed. It was composed of solid gold panels, thicker than even the archaic human plate amour he had seen in some books on military history. Its design was sturdy, but smart and curving around the body of the wearer. The most amazing thing about it, though, was that it was made of solid gold. One such suit could buy a whole skyscraper in the center of Tarsonis, the capital of the Confederacy and Paskirov's home city. Also, the armament had decorations. The scarce twisting lines were almost indistinguishable, but the three crystals each suit had stood out. Two were located on the outer side of the lower arm panels. The third was encased on the chest. Two huge golden rail-like arches started sideways from the centerpiece on the chest and, going diagonally over the shoulder, ran all the way to the back. They added to the majesty of the guards' figures, but it was the bright glowing purple eyes that completed it.
Paskirov kept going onwards, trying to stay low and not give the guards any reason or opportunity to do something harmful. The path entered the woods and proceeded for several hundred meters to the very top of the wide hill that overlooked the valley he had just left. When he reached the edge through the shadowy woods and the ubiquitous Protoss, he saw a sight. On the top, between two armoured huards, stood a third Protoss, more senior and rugged in appearance. He had no armor but only dark blue cloth covering almost all his body except for his purple eyes. He had a plain black cloak, an ornate golden pendant with a blue crystal like those on the armor, and two golden lower-arm plates identical to the standard issue in their force. The eyes of the Protoss glowed more deeper and steadier, if it was possible. Their sights crossed and Paskirov felt the pressure of the alien upon him, but refused to yield. He then suddenly remembered that he was trying to blend with the crowd and he turned his eyes away. The Protoss did not reveal any emotions.
As Boris walked down the slope, he looked at the designated field. It was wide and green, flat and surrounded by lush woodlands. His group moved to the inside and under the noon sun the men fell to sleep on the ground.
In the evening, he woke up and the field was filled with people. Groups of tired and discouraged Terrans from the fleet made up this huge open prison. In the distance, beyond the stretch of no man's land, there were armoured Protoss in one huge circle. They were situated on the high ground that went all around the field and were keeping a vigilant eye on the human captives. In certain intervals, there were also bulky spider-like machines, at least the size of a tank, as much as Paskirov could see. They added to the intimidating look of the enemy and Boris' estimate was sixty of them pluse another two- or three hundred Protoss fighters.
He decided to go to his admiral and find out if anything had happened. Although he felt morose, Anders ought to be feeling even worse, because the responsibility for this calamity lay with him. Yet, the commanders had no plans. There was nowhere to go.
Not far from there, Chester looked at the environment. There were no birds visible, nor were there any animals. The trees were ten to thirty meters tall, with wide crowns. The leaves were with the shape of elongated spades and ended in an elongated tip. Such shape helped water flow off the leaf easier, so this kind of leaves meant that the particular species of plant had been exposed to lots of rain for many generations. The planet’s climate probably had a wet season. He immediately regretted that he did not check the orientation of the tilt of the planet relative to the star it orbited. If he had, he could determine the season, although… He remembered that this planed did not have expressed tropical regions, hence its tilt ought to be small. Also, there were no fallen leaves visible under the trees, so there probably were no long periods of temperature extremes. Although there were species of plants that lost their leaves in cold seasons or in hot seasons, basic botany suggested that these were not.
He wondered if the Protoss would work in the rain or they had, in their amazing technological advances, found out to make accurate forecasts or maybe even control weather itself. Of only he knew how their machines worked, he would be able to work miracles for his home Umoja.
The hours passed slowly and tediously. The Protoss guards were like statues, barely moving, ever watchful and steady in their positions. The sun had set and the twilight was being replaced by a starry night. The familiar blackness, Chester thought, when something caught his attention. A section of the sky, over the supposed location of the Protoss camp, was turning purple. In a minute or so it was becoming brighter and brighter, as a bright light shone in its center. Chester noticed that others were also watching and there were even surprised voices wondering aloud what alien trickery this was.
‘Hey, wake up, Steve,’ he called and shook the sleeping lieutenant next to him. ‘Take a look at this. It’s pretty.’
‘What the hell is this, mister scientist?’ Summers said annoyed.
‘I’d be famous back in Umoja if I knew, man. Although, knowing my luck the last 48 hours, it must be something bad.’
‘I’ll get Boris, you stay here,’ Stephen stood up.
The thing looked like a vortex in the sky, pointing upwards. It looked as if purplish clouds were spiraling around the bright center. The light from the portal or whatever it was shone brighter, over the dark crowns of the trees and on the astonished humans in the site. Even the Protoss were turning to see it.
Suddenly, tiny black spots appeared out of nowhere in the midst of the vortex. There were tens of them, pouring down from the sky like snowflakes in a blizzard. The Protoss began showing signs of uneasiness. The guards were looking around, as if awaiting for something to happen. Chester realized how vulnerable he was if anything bad - he could not even guess what - happened to the Terrans. Next, sounds started to be heard. He was not sure if he could hear blasts or not, but there was something wrong. In the distance, the flying things had stopped pouring and the vortex was shrinking. As its light faded, new flashes appeared, this time from the surface. As if a small thunderstorm was raging, he thought, not in the skies, but on the ground. A hand grabbed his shoulder.
It was Boris.
'I have news. Some are beginning to argue that this thing that's happening could be of use to us. Do you notice anything unusual about the guards there?'
'N-no?'
'Look carefully,' the lieutenant pointed to a section in the wall of guards.
Chester saw something unusual. Three of the Protoss left, followed by the four-legged machine, and descended into the darkness of the trees towards the location of the explosions.
'They are leaving. Probably recalled to their base, which makes us think that the base is attacked and needs reinforcements.'
'Is that a good thing?' Chester asked.
'Yes, because the less guards there are, the easier it would be to escape if we decide to.'
'Escape! Wow, good news at last.'
'There is a meeting shortly, where we will think about it. I have to go there,' the lieutenant said.
'Wow, well - good luck, I guess?'
'I don't know.'
He left and Chester stood on the ground, looking at the night and the lights beyond the trees.
Some time later, Boris returned.
'I went to the meeting there. We are planning an escape. Can you scientists think of a way to make it easier for us to break through their circle?'
'Why, I guess. Maybe the chemists could mix some explosive. Also, it is possible that the sleeping bags burn. And, we have signal flares, do we?,' Chester began.
'Right. Do your best in innovation and I will come back in an hour to see what you have and tell the command,' he said and left for the admiral.
Not far away, in a circle around an improvised map on the ground, the people in charge were making a plan to get everybody back to the ships. Leading an unarmed crowd was not something military people were fond of, but the Terrans had one crucial advantage - their numbers. It appeared an ugly prospect to Paskirov to make a breakthrough like this, because it was largely like a herd running past a few hunters with guns. Some of the men would never make it to the ships.
Going onto the them presented further difficulties. If anything vital was missing, for example a power conduit towards the oxygen filtration sistem, the ships would be unflyable and would have to be abandoned. Their only hope was for the Protoss to not have begun their search yet, so that the vessels remained untouched. Or, to make the already sleepy repair crews patch things up.
Furthermore, there was the issue of the warp jump. Once the ships were in orbit, they needed several hours to warm up. The admiral and the officers concluded that upon lifting off, the fleet was to move away from the Protoss base and then five hundred kilometers above the surface. Everybody except the people in the most important posts would rest for an indefinite amount of time, while the engines were warming up and people required for the situation, like pilots or battery personnel would be awaken when necessary. The men were already exhausted and there was no need to rush them. Hopefully the Protoss would not notice until it was too late, or would be destroyed by whatever was attacking them, and everybody would get home safe.
The destination was the Confederate orbital docklands on Truldon IV, a huge Confederate military stronghold.
The officers also agreed on the breakthrough. Paskirov went away to Chester and returned with news about the available technology. All things that burned well, from lighters to specific clothing material was prepared to be sent to a special part of the field from hand to hand. There were signal flare pistols, who fired a rescue firework-type of projectile that could be used to at least frighten the enemy to a degree. They were given to the marines that were ordered to make the breakthrough and be in the first lines.
Finally, the command decided what the arrangement of the forces had to be. The least expendable men would be situated in the front, right behind the marines. That was Anders and several of the officers, but not Paskirov or Summers. Pilots and qualified specialists would follow, while at the end, there were those, who did the most mundane and routine jobs in their ships. In order to avoid any hints at segregation, the commanders decided that groups of the more expendable troops should mix up with the overall structure in order to both diffuse any blame for abuse, and make it harder for the Protoss to target the more important people in the fleet.
Paskirov was assigned to lead the pilots of the Vindicator's fighters.
The calmness of the night outside the circle of guards was still disturbed by the distant conflict. Hope grew each time a group of Protoss guards left for an unknown place and those who saw hoped that things were not going good for the aliens. Some hoped for liberation, however other, more skeptical men, dared not imagine that whoever was assailing the Protoss would have any reason to be benevolent to Terrans from the Confederacy.
The plan was settled and Paskirov went to gather his men and form them up in the right place in the queue for escaping. The whole crowd was in order, and they waited for the admiral to decide when was the right time to launch an escape.
And so, the moment came. All of a sudden, the mass of prisoners became unusually active and surprised the Protoss guards. As already ordered, avialable signal flares were being passed forward, while easily ignitable objects were transferred to the back side of the field, where the enemy's attention had to be drawn.
The unusual behavior was not unnoticed by the guards and several approached through the night air towards the crowds. Somebody noticed them and shouted,
'They are coming!''Commence the distraction!' Anders shouted at the groups and his command flew from mouth to mouth back to the rear. An explosion quickly ensued and the escape plan was set in motion.The inflammable pile of junk erupted in a bright flame and gave the humans the needed diversion. The circle of guards began twisting in the direction of the blast, curious at what had just happened. In response, the Terrans began their breakthrough. By order of Anders, a hail of signal flares burst at the few Protoss that now barred the least protected part of the circle. These Protoss swung back and covered their unprotected heads with their hands, allowing the humans to make the huge first push towards the ships. Chester noticed that some people had smuggled small firearms, like pistols, and now used them against the enemy.
The giant mass of hundreds of people began running back to the valuable warships they had left behind. Among the multitude was also Boris, hurrying to safety. When the pantherine is guarding his territory, even a thousand bantus dare not pass, he knew, for although the pantherine would not be able to kill more than a few, each of the bantus could be among those few. Funny then, how military organization defied this, as the Protoss guarded their territory. Tonight's human prey had sleeves and up those sleeves it had tricks: tricks like science or teamwork and organization. Like bantus , everybody knew that some would never make it to the ships. Like bantus, everybody was afraid of the possibility of dying, more or less, from Anders through Paskirov and the Umojan, to the common gunner. Unlike bantus, however, the humans were organized and worked as a team. With the exception of the re-socialized soldiers, everybody knew that the braver he was in following orders, the better his chances of survival were.
The masses were moving onward and the scale of the revolt shocked the Protoss guards at first. Some of them tried to restore the circle, but the first groups had already gone beyond it and were entering the unlit woods. The aliens tried to restore the circle and some of them ran across the human flow, jumping in the crowd. Their proximity made many hit against each other, trying to move on and maintian a safe distance, but the overall momentum of the crowds kept everybody going. Paskirov was still on the inner side of the circle. He saw two men in front of him, one of them probably a marine, suddenly change direction and the huge figure of an armoured Protoss emerged ten to fifteen meters away. The alien was apparently confused and it tried to prevent random people from getting away, but in vain. Paskirov was approaching it and when he was at half the distance, the alien became aggressive and grabbed a nearby human and threw the poor guy a few meters away. Boris realized the grave danger he was in and he made a run for it. Trying to stay away, he ran with his best speed, but as he was passing the Protoss by, he heard a deep buzz and looked sideways. A pair of glowing blades had suddenly appeared, continuing straight outwards from the armor panel of the Protoss' lower arm. The blades glowed with a pale blue light and illuminated the golden armor. Their length was almost a meter and they were slightly diverging outwards, forming a narrow letter V. The alien swung them against a nearby marine and they sank into the soldier's chest. Seeing the blades stick out the poor fellow's back, without a drop of blood on them, Paskirov quickly stepped towards the trees, past the Protoss. He ran among terrified strangers, his only hope being to reach the safety of the vessels at one piece and breathing.
All of a sudden, a similar double blade appeared a meter in front of his face coming straight at him. He instinctively ducked and heard the hum of it moving through the air above his head. Behind him, another human growled, probably receiving the hit intended for Paskirov. The lieutenant crawled up and forward, trying to start running again, and as he looked back, his eyes met the glowing yellow eyes of the Protoss warrior. In between the terror and the efforts to pay attention to the situation developing around him, a sudden throught of the elegance of the design of the armor flashed in his head. He then realized that he had managed to escape and, not able to do anything about the men he was tasked to lead out of this, he rushed forward into the dark woods of the hill.
There were many other people there, some talking, others taking a breath, but all headed in the same direction. Paskirov kept moving and in a few minutes, the familiar silhouettes of the battlecruiser and the other ships appeared on the other side.He leaned against a tree, relieved and still trembling from the adrenaline rush. He wondered what had happened to the others, but a new sight grabbed his attention.Armored marines were coming out of some of the ships. They were coming this way, under the light of the projectors on the ships' sides. Boris felt glad when he saw medics walking behind the troops. Somebody had had the good idea of giving a hand to whoever was still behind and Paskirov felt that the person who came up with that deserved a medal. Also, the Terrans were extremely lucky that the alien foe had not yet touched the armament.
He thought about Summers and Chester. Were they here yet? And what about the admiral himself? How would the high command react to the absense of the precious sphere? He hoped that they would just assume the Protoss took it and stick to that thought. Although, even if they did make a thorough search of all the ships, Chester could hide it somewhere where it was impossible to find. Boris dared not doubt the creativity of his black Umojan friend, especially when something like progress was at stake. When Anders found the empty room, he could only envy the supposed technical mastery of the Protoss, and, perhaps, ask of the Confederacy to give him a bigger fleet to get the sphere back. It turned out to be very elegant, Paskirov thought with self-satisfaction, how he and his friends could keep the sphere for themselves, while still safely blame the Protoss without the Confederacy knowing a thing. After all, nothing good could come out of the Confederacy keeping the sphere for their own selfish goals.
Boris moved upright and headed for the Vindicator, past the returning people. Nobody lingered in front of the ships, he noticed, everybody wanted to get in. He waved at the passing marines and went back to the battlecruiser to join his crew again. The trees covering the elevation that separated the field from the small valley, which is where the ships lay, stood off with their black shapes against the starry sky. In the distance, there were still flashes and the sounds of a battle, where the enemy base was probably situated. He thought of looking for Summers or Chester, but decided that without armor, weapons and something that provides night vision, he was just another casualty if he entered the sight of a Protoss warrior. He belonged to his station, so he made it past the two medics at the door of the ship, told them he was fine, and went in.
He made a detour. Summers' and Chesters' cabins were empty. Keeping his eyes open throughout the corridors, he went to the cafeteria, but in it, there was only an engineer drinking something.
He began,
'Hey, have you seen lieutenant Summers?'
'Sir, I think he's outside, leading them marines.'
'He what?'
'Yep, I was one of the people who came here first and I checked the... um, engines, when I hear him on the emergency speakers of the ship, telling every man who could wear a pressurized power suit get one and report outside in front of the hammerhead. And then he took them back to the field, I think.'
He was there! Paskirov felt proud with his fellow lieutenant's speed of thought and good decision. Hopefully, Anders would commend such an action. How they almost met, it was funny.
'Is there anybody on the bridge now, kid?' He asked.
'I don't know, sir.'
'Fine,' he paused for a while. Things were developing within the limit of acceptability. However, the engineer's attitude was starting to vex him. He changed tone.
'WHY are you not at your station!'
The engineer turned pale and immediately stood up in a saluting position.
'Why are you wasting manhours!' Paskirov continued shouting.
'Sir, I don't know, sir!'
'Well, I know, mister - you are doing it because you are lazy! And we have no place for lazy scumbags in this fleet! Do you wanna stay on this planet?'
'Sir, no sir!'
'Well, it may sound as news to you, but I don't feel like hanging around here either! Guess what, worker: because of people like you who screw around we might as well do! What's your name and position, scumbag?'
'Sir, third class engineer Jack Ross, sir!'
'Well, Ross, I have an update for you - you better get your dirty ass right into the engine bay and make sure we can fly and propel ourselves while airborne, or I will teach you a lesson in screwing around, and when I do, you will be in a combat suit and there's going to be things exploding! Am I clear?' He was getting the hang of the drill seargant's attitude.
'Sir, yes, sir!'
'And don't think I do not have the authority to do so, Ross! In fact, when you are done in about ninety minutes, I will get a REAL engineer to see how you've performed! And when I do, you will want to prey it's all fine, because if I find out that you've been screwing around again, there WILL be consequences, dirtball! Do I make myself clear?'
'Sir, yes, sir!' The engineer was losing hope.
'Good! Now get moving!' Paskirov concluded and watched Ross leave. It was refreshing, he thought, to shout at one's subordinates. Maybe this is what kept drill seargants so energetic at such an old age.
Suddenly, something occurred to him. What if the doors of the repair bay did not look "alien" enough? What if their appearance did not imply Protoss touch? That would disbalance the scales of doubt and aim the focus of the admiral's suspicion from aliens to humans. Paskirov quickly ran to the repair bay, thinking how to make it look more weird.
The lock idea that Chester had had obviously worked, and there were two locks lying on the ground, open. Boris needed to think of something quickly. He took a towel from a nearby chair and grabbed them. He then looked at something to pour on them. There were several bottles of oil and who knew what, but he then decided not to, because it seemed too human. He looked around and saw an open panel in the wall with small wires visible. Some of their length passed through this section of the wall and so they could at least scorch the surface of the locks.
Boris took some instruments and stripped the copper interior of the locks. No important systems had their power supply that opened, common sense suggested, so Paskirov proceeded to keep the ends of the little wires close together so as to almost touch. He did it with great effort and clumsiness and after twenty minutes, the two locks had marks of burned that looked plausible enough to be alien.
He then calmly proceeded to the bridge and found the admiral had just arrived. The old man looked terrible: there were many stains of dirt on his uniform and even some grass and leaves. For a person who had just gotten his army back, he was surprisingly unhappy. Phry and another colonel were next to him, a bit more tidy.
'Are you alright, sir?' Summers asked.
'Yea, I'm fine! These men did a good job, the enemy got lucky and got close to me.'
'I'm glad my initiative helped, sir!' Summers exclaimed.
'Don't be too glad, kid. Alright, enough, is everybody accounted for?' Anders moved on.
'Many of our men have been injured, sir, but these ships have the needed men. Except for the Wanderer-class vessel Bloodhound, I'm afraid. Its crew took too may casualties,' the chief medic replied.
'Damn! Her boys are to move to the other ships, then. Phry, get it arranged. Paskirov, you get some engineers and explosives and rig her. I want it less than scrap in thirty minutes No Protoss ain't going to have any of MY Confederate ships to his disposal!'
Paskirov left for the job. When he was done, he reported to the bridge again, carrying a small radio transmitter with him. When he got the admiral's attention, he gave the tired old man the radio and said,
'They are waiting on you, sir.'
'Good,' Anders smiled and shouted in the radio, 'Nuke her, boys!'
'Through the panoramic windows of the bridge, everybody saw the Bloodhound in the distance bursting into flames and falling apart. The engineers had made sure there were almost no debris and Anders ordered the ships that are ready to take off to get out of here. The Vindicator was to turn back and fire on the remains of the Bloodhound for another fifteen minutes continuously. The admiral took Phry and the colonel with him and left, not telling where he was going. The officers who did not oversee the liftoff and the blasting of the Bloodhound were given time to rest and Boris decided to get some sleep.
After what seemed five minutes, he was awaken by a signal to report to the conference room.
In it, Anders stood both angry and tired, the only thing keeping him conscious seemed to the lieutenant to be his sheer grumpiness.
'Men, I have ill news. The sphere is gone,' he said when everybody had arrived.
There was a small wave of surprise and Paskirov and Summers tried to feign it.
'The damned Protoss have taken it! Curse them, they finally got their dirty alien paws on it!' the admiral was erupting in wrath.
'Do we know how they made it past the defenses, sir?' Summers asked with innocence.
'Hell no, but it must be some cowardly alien trickery they've got up their sleeves,' Anders replied in fury. 'Give me that Umojan boy and the chief engineer, they will know what happened. The rest of you - at ease. We're done with the Bloodhound now, we're moving out of the atmosphere and are preparing for a warp jump. Gentlemen, you did well, I'm proud of you - most of you - now get some rest.'
Everybody started leaving, but Summers was told to stay. Paskirov had a bad feeling about this, but he had to inform Chester about the latest developments in the situation. The Umojan was really sleepy.
'The admiral found out about the sphere. Now, he will want to talk to you and that guy MacMylor about what could have happened.'
'Oh, man, what am I going to do? I can barely stand upright, I am so tired I am doomed to make a Freudian slip or something,' Chester uttered in a tone of despair.
'Do you think MacMylor knows what a Freudian slip is, bud?' Paskirov inquired.
'No.'
'Good. Because I don't know either, and the chances for Anders to know are even smaller, so just go out there and try to keep your mouth as shut as possible,' Paskirov continued. 'Try to bemuse them with gobbledygook, you know: blind them with science. You have the technological superiority. What I am here for is to tell you that I burned the two locks' surfaces. Sort of scorched them to give them an unusual look. I thought they would appear alien-ish. Bear that in mind.'
'But I can barely bear myself on my two legs...' Chester complained.
'Yea, I thought so. Try to think of it as the culmination of yet another long night of studying, sort of the exam in the morning,' Boris saw a bitter smile on his friend's face, 'Or whatever you did back in Umoja. Good luck!'
'The scientist murmured something in response, but Boris did not bother hearing. He just walked back to his cabin, trying to check if any other issue needed immediate solution, dropped on the bed after the long day and let go to sleep.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Intro 1: Heeding the Call
"Operation Stellar Shrine" by SizarieldoR
a StarCraft fanfic
http://www.thehelper.net/forums/showthread.php?t=137647 for list of chapters
2481 C. E.
BATTLECRUISER "VINDICATOR"
CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
OUTSKIRTS OF TERRAN CONFEDERATE SPACE
Space was cold and dark, Chester thought, but behind the thick glass and the multiple plates of metal that made up the battlecruiser’s hull, it was warm and good enough to live in. He was observing the star-sprinkled emptiness on the other side of the huge bridge window, waiting for his friend Boris to come. The bridge was empty with the exception of a couple of permanence operator on one of the consoles on the lower level and Chester himself. Most of the crew of the Vindicator, as the battlecruiser was called, were resting.
Chester was a young scientist in his twenties. His Ph. D. in physics from the Umojan academy made him one of the most skilled specialists on board and placed him far above the meek Confederate scientists. He was also far less content with his service under Confederates, which won him the animosity of important people in the ship’s hierarchy, but also helped him become friends with Boris, one of the lieutenants. Boris Paskirov also had to hide his dislike for the high command of the fleet, the best thing one could do if expecting promotion, but Paskirov nonetheless was a member of the liberal officers’ party aboard.
As Chester was staring at the starry infinity laid before him, the monotonous beeping of the board computers suddenly changed and signals began to be heard. He walked to the dispatcher to see what was going on.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ one of the operators said. ‘I just intercepted a human transmission coming from somewhere nearby.’
‘It’s not encrypted… Opening…’ the other murmured, when he gasped. ‘It’s a call for help! Somebody’s been stranded in local space and they need “immediate assistance.” Wow, I better call the Vice-Admiral, here’s the coordinates. What was your name again?’
‘Chester. Need me to do anything for you?’
‘ Yes, make your pals coffee. These birds may see some action after all. Whoever sent this message is dancing rock’n’roll. And it’s not any of his favourite songs that’s playing.’
Chester quickly left.
Ten minutes later, the big ship was teeming with life. For several weeks now the fleet of one giant battlecruiser, six smaller Wanderer-class battleships and the accompanying auxiliary vessels had been wandering idle in this backwater sector of human space. So bloody backwater that it was hardly human anymore, Chester thought to himself. As he was staying out of the way of the military personnel on his way to the telecommunications hall, a hand grabbed his shoulder.
‘First to see it, eh?’ It was Paskirov, with a wide smile on his oval angular face.
‘Yes, I was doing the most adequate thing a scientist could do when the Confederates are preparing for a fight – staying out of the way.’
‘I, for one, am skeptical these pigs will get to shoot on anything bigger than the local dinosaur or mastodon. Don’t worry. I’d love some action, but… Oh, gotta go,’ Paskirov said and continued towards his battle station.
The fleet was preparing for engagement with an unknown enemy. The batteries on the hammerhead and on the wings of the big Vindicator were warmed up and ready to launch a hail of deadly lasers at anyone - or anything – that dared engage the mighty battlecruiser. Near it, forming a warp jump formation were the six other smaller Wanderer-class warships, prepared for the enemy, and behind them were the two science vessels and the cargo ships that transported whatever scientific apparati the Confederacy gave them to examine the planets. Paskirov was feeling nervous. He hoped that there would be time to sleep tonight.
The ships jumped to the designated nearby coordinates. They were near a dusty yellow-ish planet whose thin, wispy clouds revealed numerous thin bodies of some liquid, probably water, twisting on parts of the surface and around two seas that this hemisphere seemed to have. On the Vindicator’s deck, Paskirov was hearing admiral Anders’ orders to approach and scan the planet. Once the damsels in distress were localized, the real Confederate soldiers were going to come and scare away whatever brutes were irritating the fools on the surface. The operators found the position – it was around the equator, on the same side of the planet the fleet now was. That would make raining death from directly above both easier and scarier. Paskirov could see the excitement on the face of the old pig and felt tempted to join in the euphory. He needed to be calm, however, as optimism in war could easily turn into arrogance, then into underestimating the enemy and, ultimately, an unexpected defeat. He took a deep breath as the ships were approaching the atmosphere.
The fleet slowed down to avoid warming up due to friction with the air and began descending through the clouds. Paskirov could see the terrain reading on one of the screens. They were over a hilly area with a river flowing south of where they were. As the ships slowly changed their trajectory to a horizontal one and approached the site, the operators began seeing signs of life. The officers were summoned to the bridge in order to observe and as he walked into a better place to look at the planet, Boris gasped. In the middle of the landscape there was a wide flat area at the end of which, near some rocky elevations… There were ruins.
There were ruins of a pyramidal structure – not big from afar, but probably enormous at close distance. Ruins? Here? That was extremely unusual. How old were they? More importantly, who made them? Who? Or what? And even more importantly for a lieutenant, there was something going on in front of them. There were dark spots on the bare yellow-ish plain and there were clouds of smoke coming out. There was motion. There were the people.
‘Gentlemen, this is the theatre,’ Anders shouted in awe. ‘The people are out there and something is troubling them. It is time to kick in and restore order for the Confederacy,’ Anders said to the staff. ‘Prepare for action. Operator, tell the transport ships to deploy all forces 1 and a half kilometers from the enemy.Tell the support warships to unload 2 kilometers from the action. Yes, that’s you I’m talking to! Just do it, for heaven’s sake. Prepare to land and unload our boys 1 km as well. You know standard procedure, these are the reserves. Summers, Phry get to your companies and prepare to land with them. There’s no need for separate commander on land, boys, so I’ll keep you in line.’
Vindicator and the six other vessels stood still, floating a several hundred feet above the ground. Any higher would make the job of the dropships too time-consuming, but any lower would mean that the gravitational pressure downwards created by the ships’ anti-gravity systems that kept them in the air would be irritating and even harmful for any soldier who found himself under them. Paskirov could see the overall picture of the fighting. Closer to the temple were obviously the humans, who had improvised barricades and walls. The flashes suggested that there was fierce opposition to whatever was attacking. The attackers, on the other hand, were hard to identify. Paskirov thought they were some sort of animals, as there was a lot of motion in the groups of pinkish living mass spread through the rubble of the battlefield. Fodder for the tanks, obviously. The transport ships were now moving through the line of the battleships, their long steel hulls, decorated with antennae and guns, were slowly flying past pairs of huge laser batteries on both ends of Vindicator’s wings.
‘Visual from the battlefield, sir,’ an operator informed Anders. Paskirov looked at the footage. The defenders had some good machinery, he thought, looking at the scorched remains of vulture hovercycles and even tanks. He could tell individual corpses, but his attention was grabbed by the monsters moving through the smoke and charred steel shards. They had too many claws and teeth, and their pace was one of predators eager for killing. These creatures seemed to vary in size, he noticed. There were some small four legged ones, and there were bigger ones that seemed to stand erect. The extra claws they had made it hard to tell limbs and Paskirov wondered how much generations of merciless fight for survival were responsible for such a threatening visage.
The warships gained several hundred meters of altitude and moved over the deploying transport vessels, ready to attack the enemy alongside the land force, providing the needed air support.
‘Let the ships engage the enemy. Tell the Wanderers to open fire when in range. Let’s do some target practice, boys!’ Anders shouted. Several voices responded enthusiastically. Paskirov’s was not one of them.
The ships moved closer while the infantry and the tanks were forming up and aimed at the outer side of the combat zone. The batteries of the six Wanderer-class warships, along with the regular armament of the battlecruiser unleashed a hail of lasers against the ground where the enemy was supposed to be. Waiting any command, Paskirov thought about how he did not want to be on the receiving end of the beams. As the cannonade was beginning, the mighty side batteries of the Vindicator also fired couples of massive laser volleys, illuminating the interior of the bridge with bright reddish light as they sent rays of death straight ahead into the fray.
Down below, the infantry began to advance. The tiny black dots on the surface strolled forward.
‘Hold fire, all ships. The infantry’s advancing. Move towards the enemy!’
The cannonade stopped and the seven ships slowly headed to the temple. As they got closer, Anders ordered the smaller, more accurate guns to shoot at anything that does not look human. Meanwhile, down on the surface the first lines of marines and tanks entered the scorched zone. Paskirov could hear the soldiers’ transmissions.
‘Tanks, sir, they are really messed up. Something musta been tearin’ through ‘em, look at the wheels.’
‘Oh, God, this poor marine’s been torn into two.’
‘Man, I don’t wanna die with a claw in my head, Jimmy.’
‘Then shut up and stay in formation, soldier!’
‘Oh, dear, something moved there. I can swear I saw something. It’s coming!’
‘Don’t worry, man, we’ve got your back. Just stay cool and be ready to shoot’
‘Yeah, they’re over there!’
‘Contact!’
‘Aargh!’
‘Kill it!’
‘It’s too fast’
‘Die, sucker!’
‘Hold on!’
‘My arm! I’m bleeding!’
Soon, shooting, blasts, screams of men and screeches of the aliens mixed up in the radio receiver, making it impossible to hear tangible sounds. On the bridge, Anders stood and waited for any radio contact with possible survivors. That’s not what he should be doing, Boris thought.
‘Permission to speak, sir?’
‘What is it, kid?’ Anders asked vexed.
‘Should not we try to just surround the beasts and pin them down, while the ship’s weapons kill them from a safe distance? I mean, it is what our ground forces are extremely capable of, plus, we are taking casualties…’
‘Don’t tell me how to fight, lefftenant, I’m the CO around here! The marines will do fine! Now, get to…’ but he did not continue, because there was connection with the people on the surface.
‘Attention, survivors,’ he said as if boasting in front of somebody, ‘This is Admiral Hugh Anders of the Confederate Expeditionary Fleet Lambda speaking. We have received your request for help and our ground forces are already deployed and engaging the enemy. Soon, you will be provided medical help and commodities. Until then, stay alive.’
The voice, which replied to him, however, was cold and metallic.
‘We are glad to hear this, admiral. I am Captain Williams, the highest ranking surviving officer of the Confederate force whose remains you see. I would tell you more, but I need to help my men right now.'
‘Erm, right, yes, I see, captain,’ Anders said with a note of surpsise in his voice. ‘You will tell us everything… else when on board.’
The admiral angrily murmured something.
Down below, the soldiers were winning. Horrible as the aliens would prove to the crews later, their numbers were not large enough to exploit the initial advantage of surprise that their terrible looks had earned them against the humans. Some hours later, it was all over and the bloody bodies of marines and aliens lay among the destroyed machinery in front of the mysterious temple.
Later, Anders ordered his troops to establish defences around the temple and to tend the wounded. Marines and tanks found their places as the medical teams searched the field for anyone alive. In the meantime, Anders and several officers, among which Paskirov, went to the survivors.
The survivors amounted to about 200 men. They were an unusual sight. There were Confederate marines and firebats and Confederate weapons and other Confederate military things, but about half the men were not the usual kind of soldier. They were lightly armoured and equipped with sniper rifles. Most importantly, Boris thought, their behavior was unusual. They were not chit-chatting among each other, nor with the new troops as the others were doing. They were staying awkwardly aloof, waiting for an order, like springs waiting to unwind. Boris could not see their eyes because of the multi-vision goggles they were all wearing. Even their wounded, as he saw later, moaned far less than the usual grunt, let alone swear.
A figure approached Anders. Boris turned and saw one of the snipers walk to the admiral. The man was different – his face was showing and he had a red beret. There was a contrast between the two men, the surprised elderly, clean Anders in his shiny uniform and clean service cap, and the stone-faced younger officer, covered in soot, dust and probably blood.
‘I am Captain Williams, sir. I am the most senior EO after colonel Hughes was killed.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Anders replied. ‘Your men are probably exhausted from the fighting, don’t worry. My boys were a little surprised, too, when meeting the enemy. Quite a nasty species you found here, capt’n.’
Surprised and dead, Boris thought to himself.
‘Their numbers were larger than what you had to deal with, admiral. We called for help immediately when seeing them. I was commanding one of the infantry companies. We were fortunate we already had a base of operations next to the ruins, otherwise we’d be dead. Before you had the chance to arrive.’
‘Right. Now, let us to the ship, shall we?’ Anders invited him.
‘Indeed.’
But as they turned to the dropship, Williams suddenly realized something and hurried back towards one of the surviving tents of the defenders.
‘I forgot something, Admiral. I will be with you in a minute.’
Boris waited and looked around. It was now twilight and in the growing shadows he could see his fleet’s SCV’s and engineers examining the scrap of the destroyed vehicles, looking for parts that could be used to repair what was still repairable. Another bedtime was approaching and both he, and Anders, were getting nervous.
‘Ready?’ Anders asked, irritated, when Williams hurriedly came back.
‘Yes, admiral,’ Williams replied, and Boris could swear he sounded more at ease now.
They walked towards the dropship and then into one of the conference rooms of the battlecruiser.
‘At ease, gentlemen,’ the admiral ordered the lieutenants. ‘Go rest, I will talk with Captain Williams alone.’
The officers went away. Paskirov and Stephen Summers went towards Chester’s cabin.
‘What the hell were these guys, Boris?’ Stephen asked with excitement.
‘I have no idea, Steve. One thing is for sure, though – they do not look like people who are usually fooling around,’ Paskirov replied tired.
‘I sure hope old Andy decides to call it a day and take us back already. I’m sick of walking around this ship doing nothing. My life’s passing away in inaction, Boris, haha.’
‘Think about the admiral, whose life has already mostly passed, Steve.’
‘Well, he did find these sorry guys here. It’s enough of an event to generate a satisfactory amount of reports and of reasons to get out of the back yard of the galaxy and back to Tarsonis. And, besides, there’s these ruins. God knows how they got here.’
‘That’s more material for reports, indeed. We could have found aliens, what do you know.’
‘That’s something for Chester to contemplate on, really. I wonder if grandpa will really send anybody to take a look at the building,’ Stephen whispered as they were approaching the scientists’ cabins.
‘I doubt. He’s never been really into archaeology. Or analyzing anything, for that matter.’
Both laughed. Shortly, they summoned Chester and went to the cafeteria.
‘How was down there, Boris?’ Chester asked, the dim lights of the empty cafeteria illuminating his black skin.
‘Lots of guys have gotten… expended. Plenty of wreckage and death, really. There were even more killed aliens, though. Creepy to look at. Professional predators, so to speak.’
‘Ah, I suspect some wild evolution has been going on here. Too bad we can’t stay around longer, there are professors from the university who would be happy to get some data about things that are dangerous enough to threaten the Confederate military,’ Chester smiled.
‘Did you see the ruins? They are the strangest thing on this mission of ours yet,’ Stephen asked.
‘…which is not much of an achievement,’ Boris noted.
‘Yea, very unusual, I saw them. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait until somebody who cares sends real explorers here. The Confederate drones they use for scientific work here act more brainwashed than the infantry, at least when dealing with science. It’s like my colleagues’ brain center for curiosity has been amputated and replaced with one about obedience,’ he frowned.
‘Let’s see if Williams is the liberal type, shall we?’ Boris noted.
‘I, personally, doubt, man. He’s more the obedient type. I mean, look at how he behaves,’ Stephen remarked.
‘Yes, but his tone towards the old guy in charge is not one filled with respect. Even old Andy himself is starting to realize that. He’s noticing the lack of kudos in Williams’ words,’ Boris explained.
‘As you wish. Chances are, in my opinion, that this Williams guy is another re-socialized troop. I don’t know what went wrong with HIS re-socialization, but he’s still a wheel in the Confederate war machine more than he is a Homo sapiens,’ Stephen replied.
‘I’ll go get whatever information I can on my own computer, you two. I’m off,’ Chester said. ‘Good luck with the Williams guy.’
‘Let’s hope Anders loses his temperament against the captain, that would help,’ Boris thought aloud.
‘Shouldn’t take long,’ the scientist replied.
‘We’ll be laying an ambush for the new captain once his interview with Anders is over, good night,’ Paskirov said.
A while later, Paskirov and Stephens were walking towards their cabins but using the longest route possible, trying to encounter Williams in the corridors. Eventually, they did and pretended to be surprised.
‘Greetings, captain. I am Lieutenant Boris Paskirov and this is my fellow Lieutenant Stephen Summers. We are delighted to meet you,’ Paskirov began.
‘Aye, good day to you both. Can I be of service?’
‘How do you like our ship and our supreme commander?’ Stephens inquired.
‘The ship is fair enough. The commander is outside of my judgement.’
‘You know, we are curious about what happened down there before this fleet arrived. How did these aliens come? Was it hard to hold them off?’ Paskirov asked, faking interest.
‘Before you arrived, we were fighting for our lives. The aliens were pretty scary to stand against. It is probably easy to look at the footage, but when two of those dog-like ones jump in front of you, it is time for reflexes. Ahem, they are a tough foe, yes,’ Williams replied.
‘Let’s go to the cafeteria, we can sit there,’ Summers suggested.
‘Yes. Your men look pretty dangerous, I have to admit,’ Paskirov continued on their way there.
‘We are ghosts, a special corps. This was one of our first missions. I am not authorized to say more.’
‘Were you in the temple?’
‘Yes, we did enter it. But that’s enough.’
‘Well, you probably deal pretty bad damage with your rifles. Are they a Canister model?’
‘Yes, the new C-10. They are very effective against the aliens. This is so, because the aliens have some parts of their bodies unarmored, as I observed. A bullet there saves time and trouble.’
‘How much target practice have you done with your rifle, there?’ Summers took turn to ask.
‘Enough.’
‘How big was your group when you landed on this planet?’
‘We were about five hundred men, both fighting, and supporting personnel.’
‘Why did you land here?’
‘We heard… I cannot tell you that. I am sorry.’
‘Right. Where are you from, Williams? Tarsonis? I think I know your accent,’ Summers changed the topic.
Williams said nothing.
‘How old are you?’ Summers asked again.
‘I was born in 2456,’ he replied.
‘Nice. I was born in 2457. Boris here is ’58.’
They entered the empty cafeteria.
‘Anything else you need to know?’ Williams asked, ever coldly.
‘Sure, do you have a girl?’ Summers said.
Williams turned and aimed a cold sight at Summers.
‘No.’
‘I have a girl – she’s in Tarsonis,’ Paskirov said. ‘I’m from Tarsonis myself, I met her at a ball. My family is kinda old, you see, and…’
‘I think Williams is not concerned with personal matters, Boris. Want to have a drink, capt’n?’
‘As a matter of fact, I want to have a rest after the last 36 hours. I’m going to my assigned cabin.’
‘Right. Don’t worry if you find yourself disagreeing with the admiral, captian. People like me or Steve do it all the time,’ Paskirov said. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night to you,’ Williams replied. There was a minute of silence.
‘Of course, you did save the day those last seconds,’ Summers said.
‘Had to.’
‘Yep.’
‘You think he’s joining our side?’ Paskirov asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Yes.’
‘Early to tell.’
‘Right.’
‘Well, bedtime?’ Summers said.
‘Good idea, I need sleep after all this. See you tomorrow. Relatively speaking.’
****
CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
PLANET 2481L36CT, UNKNOWN SYSTEM
TEN HOURS LATER
Sun was now rising at their coordinates. The personnel on the ground had salvaged what could be salvaged and any repairs were affected. The rescued soldiers were loaded onto the ships with Williams and three of his ghost troops remaining on the flagship Vindicator. The fleet was preparing to leave and head back to Confederate space and the prevailing mood was one of relief that they are getting back home, where life continues.
In the battlecruiser, Paskirov paused his contribution to the preparations and went to Anders in one of the halls. The admiral was smoking a pipe looking at some papers.
‘Sir, aren’t we doing something about the ruins we discovered?’
‘What? Oh, boy, you again. No. That’s none of our business, lefftenant. We just picked these lost sheep and we’re flying back home.’
‘But, those are the first remains of an alien civilization that mankind has seen, sir. Should not we at least send some of the scientists to examine it?’
‘I don’t care what that is, lefftenant, it ain’t my job to care. We already charted enough planets, it’s time to get back. Now leave me, I’ve got damn paperwork to do!’
‘Yes sir,’ Paskirov exited.
Such a waste, he thought. We probably haven’t even charted this planet. Well, hopefully he would be assigned to another commander sometime in the future, a cleverer one. But first – stay on schedule.
Everything was packed and the ships began moving upwards to space and away from the planet. At fifteen kilometers above the surface, the human ships began moving forward and gradually moved into a suitable position for a warp jump homewards.
Warp space was one of the most useful discoveries in contemporary Terran history. It facilitated transfer of goods and information through space and, as some argue, made an interplanetary political entity such as the Terran Confederacy possible. Warp space technology enabled, as the name suggested, moving in what could be considered another dimension as a medium for taking shortcuts. Warp jumps could be long or short, depending on the ship’s capabilities. Long jumps required special warp engines enabled the ship to enter it and exit it, but not every vessel could be equipped with them. Their size and energy consumption meant that only bigger ships could make warp jumps. Also, warp travel required careful input of coordinates. It was extremely dangerous to just aim at a random point in space, among other things, because exiting warp space too close to a planet or a star could have disastrous consequences for the ship. Nevertheless, Terran technology was developed enough to offer a degree of accuracy that even enabled groups of jumping ships to exit warp space in the same formation they had entered it. So, despite any risks, warp travel was not something Terrans would abandon soon.
Now, the ships’ engines were warming up for a long jump. The ships were standing in high orbit over the temple planet, waiting for the fancy lights of warp space. Chester had completed his tasks on the warp engines and was now next to one of the few windows on the battlecruiser, located on the right side. Although the right couple of long-range batteries was hiding some of the view, stars and the star that kept this unknown system together were still visible. He was regretting the loss that it was to leave the temple unexamined. Stupid Confederates.
At least the stars were nice. The view of the enormous emptiness, the grandiose void between him and them was relieving. The stars were sparkling, and… Something materialized in the distance. Two tiny bright objects suddenly appeared and began approaching the human fleet. Chester looked more carefully. They were yellow and approached fast, judging from the rate of getting bigger. Ships, it seemed, they came out of warp space. More Confederates, perhaps, that had received the signal for help. But why were they yellow? Were they some sort of star cruisers that tourists used?
The objects kept approaching and Chester was astonished. They did not look like human ships. They were round and, looking directly at them, they had a dark spot in the middle surrounded by gold. Chester was hoping that the guys on the bridge were seeing this.
And, indeed, they were. Paskirov was astounded. The operators were trying to establish communication with the two ships, but in vain. Anders was getting nervous, since the fleet was already warming up for a warp jump and he was not in the mood for anything but getting home. Still, the executives watched, while the various dispatchers, operators, and engineers still could not hear anything.
The two ships approached and were now several hundred meters from the battlecruiser. Paskirov observed them, when he heard a “thump”. He looked.
‘Sir, somethnig’s wrong with Williams!’ Paskirov shouted.
Williams was now standing against a wall, holding his head with one hand. His face was twisted in pain.
‘V-v-voices,’ he uttered.
‘What?’ Anders said.
‘Maybe it’s from the golden alien ships, sir,’ Paskirov answered.
‘They are… in my head. Argh!’ Williams was trying to stand upright.
‘Get a medic!’ somebody said.
‘No, I’m alright. I can hear them, in my head. They are saying hello,’ the ghost responded.
‘You can hear them?” Paskirov asked in amazement.
‘I guess I can, Paskirov… Sometimes their voices appear.’
‘Captain, tell them that this is Admiral Anders of the Confederate Expeditionary Fleet Lambda speaking. We are here to… Wait, you told them that?’ Anders interrupted.
‘Yes, I did, go ahead,’ Williams uttered, leaning on a nearby wall but otherwise better.
‘Ahem, we are here to rescue Confederate forces from an alien attack. Who are you.’
A few seconds of tense silence in the bridge followed.
‘He says his name is… something like Zahraldis. He is Protoss and is the do-er, leader, erm… Executor of this fleet here,’ Williams then explained. His eyes stared into the emptiness for a short while again and he continued. ‘They are here to take object R, admiral. They want it. Back.’
‘How the hell do they know it’s with us,’ Anders angrily muttered. ‘None of you knows anything about this object, AM I CLEAR?’ he screamed at everybody on the bridge.
Several voices answered ‘Sir’ and then Summers broke the uneasy silence.
‘What shall we do, admiral?’
‘Williams, tell these… Protoss… that anything discovered on this planet is Confederate property and belongs to the Terran Confederacy and the human race. They hace no claim over anything we discover here. Let them leave,’ Anders said.
‘Yes, admiral,’ the ghost focused. One second later, he turned to the old man. ‘They say that what we found is a legacy of somebody, whose name I could not get, and that it rightfully belongs to their fleet, as the first-borne of the same somebody. They are ready to use force.’
‘Well tell them that their stories do not count here, captain. Let all ships arm up. Nobody defies the Confederacy.’
Paskirov clearly did not like where things were going. For one thing, these Protoss had one more big vessel than the Terrans did. It was beautiful, really, he thought. A ship made of gold, sleek and oval, with tiny blue lights in the interior, between the three enormous plates that covered whatever structures it had like the scales of a bud. Of course, if it were not turned straight at them it would be better, and… suddenly the hollow front half of one of the ships filled up with tiny blue lights like a cloud of moths. The other one followed.
‘Sir?’ one of the officers dared ask.
Obviously the docks were there somewhere and two small clusters of small ships that were leaving the big ships. That could not be good. Also, there were bigger ships approaching. Probably as big as a dropship, Paskirov thought. They looked more menacing, with two big triangular wings pointing backwards and another pair of smaller wings at the tail. There were about 40 of them, as far as he could see. They were not heading towards the Terrans, though, but were only flying around the huge carriers. For now.
‘Captain, tell these Protoss that they will have to take whatever they want from the scorched wreckage of this here Confederate battlecruiser,’ Anders said with disdain.
‘They say that they find our conditions acceptable, admiral,’ Williams replied in a low voice.
‘All ships attack formation. All batteries, open fire!’ Anders shouted.
The order was met with a wave of doubt among the crew. The admiral, however, did not share his men’s concern. The battlecruiser and the six Wanderer-class ships commenced an attack on the aliens.
Paskirov noticed that at first the Protoss fell back. However, after the initial hail of lasers, the enemy ships one by one assumed an attacking formation and headed towards the flagship battlecruiser. Several golden fighters made an attack move from above and against the bridge. The anti-air batteries took down several of them, either making them explode, or burn as their hulls got damaged. The surviving fighters, however, managed to fire several missiles at the top side of the battlecruiser. The missiles hit the neosteel surface and exploded in bright flashes, taking away rather huge parts of the armor.
‘We are not going to make it,’ Paskirov thought. ‘This old idiot will kill us all.’
He could not give an angry look at the admiral, however, as he saw three tiny flying machines, the kind of which first took off the enemy carriers, heading straight towards the bridge. Each of them fired two bright projectiles from their air cannons and hit the surface of the Vindicator meters from where Paskirov was. They flew past the bridge, but were hit by three homing missiles shot from somewhere behind the battlecruiser and exploded in mid-air above the left wing of their ship.
The battle was taking an unfortunate turn for the humans. As expected, Paskirov thought to himself, and there was an increasing number of reports for the Terran ships sustaining damage. Even though the batteries of the battlecruiser were formidable, the shiny golden enemy carrier had more than gold for defence. Whenever a laser hit the ship, Paskirov noticed, there was a blue glow where the hull should be sustaining damage and nothing happened. Their smaller craft also had such a feature, even though not as effective. Anders’ initial confidence was slowly melting away like the ship plating of a Wanderer-class vessel under focused Protoss fire. Williams was staying back with a nervous look on his face.
‘Captain, I am re-considering my position. Tell the enemy admiral, whatever his name was, that we want a ceasefire,’ Anders grunted.
‘Yes, I shall try’ Williams replied and focused. After a few moments, he turned back to the admiral. ‘Zaraldis informs me that we are to cease firing and make a warp jump to a designated location.’
‘WE stop firing? What does he think he is saying, I am not…’ Anders shouted.
‘Sir, do not forget that they… Were lucky this time,’ Paskirov tried to calm him down. It was an effort in diplomacy, trying to make an arrogant old Confederate come in peace with hard reason, Boris thought.
‘Well, alright. We’ll wait to fight another day and all. Ask him where he wants us to go.’
‘He is inquiring into how we measure space and time,’ Williams remarked, as the battle was abating.
‘A scientist! Quickly!’ Paskirov called.
Immediately, several engineers of the crew ran in, among them Chester, ready to interpret. The humans and the Protoss got to some conclusion over the length of the battlecruiser and time measurements and the Protoss shortly gave a direction and a distance of several light years.
‘We will be sending small groups of ships, a group at a time, while they will hold the rest of us hostage until it is confirmed from the other side that our group has arrived,’ Williams explained.
‘Damn! I already hate these arrogant Protoss, captain!’ the admiral’s fury erupted. ‘How dare they!’
‘They’ve got the bigger guns,’ Paskirov whispered to Chester.
The Terrans’ ships engines began warming up and the jumping commenced, as agreed. At gunpoint, the fleet slowly flew to an unknown planet in uncharted space, by the orders of an unidentified alien species with unknown technical capabilities. Yeah, just perfect, Boris was thinking. Nice mess the old fool got us into. Who knows what will happen to us and Williams’ sphere now.
The battlecruiser was last. Anders had already sent the tired crew to rest, hoping that there really would be another day they could have the chance of fighting these Protoss.
a StarCraft fanfic
http://www.thehelper.net/forums/showthread.php?t=137647 for list of chapters
2481 C. E.
BATTLECRUISER "VINDICATOR"
CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
OUTSKIRTS OF TERRAN CONFEDERATE SPACE
Space was cold and dark, Chester thought, but behind the thick glass and the multiple plates of metal that made up the battlecruiser’s hull, it was warm and good enough to live in. He was observing the star-sprinkled emptiness on the other side of the huge bridge window, waiting for his friend Boris to come. The bridge was empty with the exception of a couple of permanence operator on one of the consoles on the lower level and Chester himself. Most of the crew of the Vindicator, as the battlecruiser was called, were resting.
Chester was a young scientist in his twenties. His Ph. D. in physics from the Umojan academy made him one of the most skilled specialists on board and placed him far above the meek Confederate scientists. He was also far less content with his service under Confederates, which won him the animosity of important people in the ship’s hierarchy, but also helped him become friends with Boris, one of the lieutenants. Boris Paskirov also had to hide his dislike for the high command of the fleet, the best thing one could do if expecting promotion, but Paskirov nonetheless was a member of the liberal officers’ party aboard.
As Chester was staring at the starry infinity laid before him, the monotonous beeping of the board computers suddenly changed and signals began to be heard. He walked to the dispatcher to see what was going on.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ one of the operators said. ‘I just intercepted a human transmission coming from somewhere nearby.’
‘It’s not encrypted… Opening…’ the other murmured, when he gasped. ‘It’s a call for help! Somebody’s been stranded in local space and they need “immediate assistance.” Wow, I better call the Vice-Admiral, here’s the coordinates. What was your name again?’
‘Chester. Need me to do anything for you?’
‘ Yes, make your pals coffee. These birds may see some action after all. Whoever sent this message is dancing rock’n’roll. And it’s not any of his favourite songs that’s playing.’
Chester quickly left.
Ten minutes later, the big ship was teeming with life. For several weeks now the fleet of one giant battlecruiser, six smaller Wanderer-class battleships and the accompanying auxiliary vessels had been wandering idle in this backwater sector of human space. So bloody backwater that it was hardly human anymore, Chester thought to himself. As he was staying out of the way of the military personnel on his way to the telecommunications hall, a hand grabbed his shoulder.
‘First to see it, eh?’ It was Paskirov, with a wide smile on his oval angular face.
‘Yes, I was doing the most adequate thing a scientist could do when the Confederates are preparing for a fight – staying out of the way.’
‘I, for one, am skeptical these pigs will get to shoot on anything bigger than the local dinosaur or mastodon. Don’t worry. I’d love some action, but… Oh, gotta go,’ Paskirov said and continued towards his battle station.
The fleet was preparing for engagement with an unknown enemy. The batteries on the hammerhead and on the wings of the big Vindicator were warmed up and ready to launch a hail of deadly lasers at anyone - or anything – that dared engage the mighty battlecruiser. Near it, forming a warp jump formation were the six other smaller Wanderer-class warships, prepared for the enemy, and behind them were the two science vessels and the cargo ships that transported whatever scientific apparati the Confederacy gave them to examine the planets. Paskirov was feeling nervous. He hoped that there would be time to sleep tonight.
The ships jumped to the designated nearby coordinates. They were near a dusty yellow-ish planet whose thin, wispy clouds revealed numerous thin bodies of some liquid, probably water, twisting on parts of the surface and around two seas that this hemisphere seemed to have. On the Vindicator’s deck, Paskirov was hearing admiral Anders’ orders to approach and scan the planet. Once the damsels in distress were localized, the real Confederate soldiers were going to come and scare away whatever brutes were irritating the fools on the surface. The operators found the position – it was around the equator, on the same side of the planet the fleet now was. That would make raining death from directly above both easier and scarier. Paskirov could see the excitement on the face of the old pig and felt tempted to join in the euphory. He needed to be calm, however, as optimism in war could easily turn into arrogance, then into underestimating the enemy and, ultimately, an unexpected defeat. He took a deep breath as the ships were approaching the atmosphere.
The fleet slowed down to avoid warming up due to friction with the air and began descending through the clouds. Paskirov could see the terrain reading on one of the screens. They were over a hilly area with a river flowing south of where they were. As the ships slowly changed their trajectory to a horizontal one and approached the site, the operators began seeing signs of life. The officers were summoned to the bridge in order to observe and as he walked into a better place to look at the planet, Boris gasped. In the middle of the landscape there was a wide flat area at the end of which, near some rocky elevations… There were ruins.
There were ruins of a pyramidal structure – not big from afar, but probably enormous at close distance. Ruins? Here? That was extremely unusual. How old were they? More importantly, who made them? Who? Or what? And even more importantly for a lieutenant, there was something going on in front of them. There were dark spots on the bare yellow-ish plain and there were clouds of smoke coming out. There was motion. There were the people.
‘Gentlemen, this is the theatre,’ Anders shouted in awe. ‘The people are out there and something is troubling them. It is time to kick in and restore order for the Confederacy,’ Anders said to the staff. ‘Prepare for action. Operator, tell the transport ships to deploy all forces 1 and a half kilometers from the enemy.Tell the support warships to unload 2 kilometers from the action. Yes, that’s you I’m talking to! Just do it, for heaven’s sake. Prepare to land and unload our boys 1 km as well. You know standard procedure, these are the reserves. Summers, Phry get to your companies and prepare to land with them. There’s no need for separate commander on land, boys, so I’ll keep you in line.’
Vindicator and the six other vessels stood still, floating a several hundred feet above the ground. Any higher would make the job of the dropships too time-consuming, but any lower would mean that the gravitational pressure downwards created by the ships’ anti-gravity systems that kept them in the air would be irritating and even harmful for any soldier who found himself under them. Paskirov could see the overall picture of the fighting. Closer to the temple were obviously the humans, who had improvised barricades and walls. The flashes suggested that there was fierce opposition to whatever was attacking. The attackers, on the other hand, were hard to identify. Paskirov thought they were some sort of animals, as there was a lot of motion in the groups of pinkish living mass spread through the rubble of the battlefield. Fodder for the tanks, obviously. The transport ships were now moving through the line of the battleships, their long steel hulls, decorated with antennae and guns, were slowly flying past pairs of huge laser batteries on both ends of Vindicator’s wings.
‘Visual from the battlefield, sir,’ an operator informed Anders. Paskirov looked at the footage. The defenders had some good machinery, he thought, looking at the scorched remains of vulture hovercycles and even tanks. He could tell individual corpses, but his attention was grabbed by the monsters moving through the smoke and charred steel shards. They had too many claws and teeth, and their pace was one of predators eager for killing. These creatures seemed to vary in size, he noticed. There were some small four legged ones, and there were bigger ones that seemed to stand erect. The extra claws they had made it hard to tell limbs and Paskirov wondered how much generations of merciless fight for survival were responsible for such a threatening visage.
The warships gained several hundred meters of altitude and moved over the deploying transport vessels, ready to attack the enemy alongside the land force, providing the needed air support.
‘Let the ships engage the enemy. Tell the Wanderers to open fire when in range. Let’s do some target practice, boys!’ Anders shouted. Several voices responded enthusiastically. Paskirov’s was not one of them.
The ships moved closer while the infantry and the tanks were forming up and aimed at the outer side of the combat zone. The batteries of the six Wanderer-class warships, along with the regular armament of the battlecruiser unleashed a hail of lasers against the ground where the enemy was supposed to be. Waiting any command, Paskirov thought about how he did not want to be on the receiving end of the beams. As the cannonade was beginning, the mighty side batteries of the Vindicator also fired couples of massive laser volleys, illuminating the interior of the bridge with bright reddish light as they sent rays of death straight ahead into the fray.
Down below, the infantry began to advance. The tiny black dots on the surface strolled forward.
‘Hold fire, all ships. The infantry’s advancing. Move towards the enemy!’
The cannonade stopped and the seven ships slowly headed to the temple. As they got closer, Anders ordered the smaller, more accurate guns to shoot at anything that does not look human. Meanwhile, down on the surface the first lines of marines and tanks entered the scorched zone. Paskirov could hear the soldiers’ transmissions.
‘Tanks, sir, they are really messed up. Something musta been tearin’ through ‘em, look at the wheels.’
‘Oh, God, this poor marine’s been torn into two.’
‘Man, I don’t wanna die with a claw in my head, Jimmy.’
‘Then shut up and stay in formation, soldier!’
‘Oh, dear, something moved there. I can swear I saw something. It’s coming!’
‘Don’t worry, man, we’ve got your back. Just stay cool and be ready to shoot’
‘Yeah, they’re over there!’
‘Contact!’
‘Aargh!’
‘Kill it!’
‘It’s too fast’
‘Die, sucker!’
‘Hold on!’
‘My arm! I’m bleeding!’
Soon, shooting, blasts, screams of men and screeches of the aliens mixed up in the radio receiver, making it impossible to hear tangible sounds. On the bridge, Anders stood and waited for any radio contact with possible survivors. That’s not what he should be doing, Boris thought.
‘Permission to speak, sir?’
‘What is it, kid?’ Anders asked vexed.
‘Should not we try to just surround the beasts and pin them down, while the ship’s weapons kill them from a safe distance? I mean, it is what our ground forces are extremely capable of, plus, we are taking casualties…’
‘Don’t tell me how to fight, lefftenant, I’m the CO around here! The marines will do fine! Now, get to…’ but he did not continue, because there was connection with the people on the surface.
‘Attention, survivors,’ he said as if boasting in front of somebody, ‘This is Admiral Hugh Anders of the Confederate Expeditionary Fleet Lambda speaking. We have received your request for help and our ground forces are already deployed and engaging the enemy. Soon, you will be provided medical help and commodities. Until then, stay alive.’
The voice, which replied to him, however, was cold and metallic.
‘We are glad to hear this, admiral. I am Captain Williams, the highest ranking surviving officer of the Confederate force whose remains you see. I would tell you more, but I need to help my men right now.'
‘Erm, right, yes, I see, captain,’ Anders said with a note of surpsise in his voice. ‘You will tell us everything… else when on board.’
The admiral angrily murmured something.
Down below, the soldiers were winning. Horrible as the aliens would prove to the crews later, their numbers were not large enough to exploit the initial advantage of surprise that their terrible looks had earned them against the humans. Some hours later, it was all over and the bloody bodies of marines and aliens lay among the destroyed machinery in front of the mysterious temple.
Later, Anders ordered his troops to establish defences around the temple and to tend the wounded. Marines and tanks found their places as the medical teams searched the field for anyone alive. In the meantime, Anders and several officers, among which Paskirov, went to the survivors.
The survivors amounted to about 200 men. They were an unusual sight. There were Confederate marines and firebats and Confederate weapons and other Confederate military things, but about half the men were not the usual kind of soldier. They were lightly armoured and equipped with sniper rifles. Most importantly, Boris thought, their behavior was unusual. They were not chit-chatting among each other, nor with the new troops as the others were doing. They were staying awkwardly aloof, waiting for an order, like springs waiting to unwind. Boris could not see their eyes because of the multi-vision goggles they were all wearing. Even their wounded, as he saw later, moaned far less than the usual grunt, let alone swear.
A figure approached Anders. Boris turned and saw one of the snipers walk to the admiral. The man was different – his face was showing and he had a red beret. There was a contrast between the two men, the surprised elderly, clean Anders in his shiny uniform and clean service cap, and the stone-faced younger officer, covered in soot, dust and probably blood.
‘I am Captain Williams, sir. I am the most senior EO after colonel Hughes was killed.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Anders replied. ‘Your men are probably exhausted from the fighting, don’t worry. My boys were a little surprised, too, when meeting the enemy. Quite a nasty species you found here, capt’n.’
Surprised and dead, Boris thought to himself.
‘Their numbers were larger than what you had to deal with, admiral. We called for help immediately when seeing them. I was commanding one of the infantry companies. We were fortunate we already had a base of operations next to the ruins, otherwise we’d be dead. Before you had the chance to arrive.’
‘Right. Now, let us to the ship, shall we?’ Anders invited him.
‘Indeed.’
But as they turned to the dropship, Williams suddenly realized something and hurried back towards one of the surviving tents of the defenders.
‘I forgot something, Admiral. I will be with you in a minute.’
Boris waited and looked around. It was now twilight and in the growing shadows he could see his fleet’s SCV’s and engineers examining the scrap of the destroyed vehicles, looking for parts that could be used to repair what was still repairable. Another bedtime was approaching and both he, and Anders, were getting nervous.
‘Ready?’ Anders asked, irritated, when Williams hurriedly came back.
‘Yes, admiral,’ Williams replied, and Boris could swear he sounded more at ease now.
They walked towards the dropship and then into one of the conference rooms of the battlecruiser.
‘At ease, gentlemen,’ the admiral ordered the lieutenants. ‘Go rest, I will talk with Captain Williams alone.’
The officers went away. Paskirov and Stephen Summers went towards Chester’s cabin.
‘What the hell were these guys, Boris?’ Stephen asked with excitement.
‘I have no idea, Steve. One thing is for sure, though – they do not look like people who are usually fooling around,’ Paskirov replied tired.
‘I sure hope old Andy decides to call it a day and take us back already. I’m sick of walking around this ship doing nothing. My life’s passing away in inaction, Boris, haha.’
‘Think about the admiral, whose life has already mostly passed, Steve.’
‘Well, he did find these sorry guys here. It’s enough of an event to generate a satisfactory amount of reports and of reasons to get out of the back yard of the galaxy and back to Tarsonis. And, besides, there’s these ruins. God knows how they got here.’
‘That’s more material for reports, indeed. We could have found aliens, what do you know.’
‘That’s something for Chester to contemplate on, really. I wonder if grandpa will really send anybody to take a look at the building,’ Stephen whispered as they were approaching the scientists’ cabins.
‘I doubt. He’s never been really into archaeology. Or analyzing anything, for that matter.’
Both laughed. Shortly, they summoned Chester and went to the cafeteria.
‘How was down there, Boris?’ Chester asked, the dim lights of the empty cafeteria illuminating his black skin.
‘Lots of guys have gotten… expended. Plenty of wreckage and death, really. There were even more killed aliens, though. Creepy to look at. Professional predators, so to speak.’
‘Ah, I suspect some wild evolution has been going on here. Too bad we can’t stay around longer, there are professors from the university who would be happy to get some data about things that are dangerous enough to threaten the Confederate military,’ Chester smiled.
‘Did you see the ruins? They are the strangest thing on this mission of ours yet,’ Stephen asked.
‘…which is not much of an achievement,’ Boris noted.
‘Yea, very unusual, I saw them. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait until somebody who cares sends real explorers here. The Confederate drones they use for scientific work here act more brainwashed than the infantry, at least when dealing with science. It’s like my colleagues’ brain center for curiosity has been amputated and replaced with one about obedience,’ he frowned.
‘Let’s see if Williams is the liberal type, shall we?’ Boris noted.
‘I, personally, doubt, man. He’s more the obedient type. I mean, look at how he behaves,’ Stephen remarked.
‘Yes, but his tone towards the old guy in charge is not one filled with respect. Even old Andy himself is starting to realize that. He’s noticing the lack of kudos in Williams’ words,’ Boris explained.
‘As you wish. Chances are, in my opinion, that this Williams guy is another re-socialized troop. I don’t know what went wrong with HIS re-socialization, but he’s still a wheel in the Confederate war machine more than he is a Homo sapiens,’ Stephen replied.
‘I’ll go get whatever information I can on my own computer, you two. I’m off,’ Chester said. ‘Good luck with the Williams guy.’
‘Let’s hope Anders loses his temperament against the captain, that would help,’ Boris thought aloud.
‘Shouldn’t take long,’ the scientist replied.
‘We’ll be laying an ambush for the new captain once his interview with Anders is over, good night,’ Paskirov said.
A while later, Paskirov and Stephens were walking towards their cabins but using the longest route possible, trying to encounter Williams in the corridors. Eventually, they did and pretended to be surprised.
‘Greetings, captain. I am Lieutenant Boris Paskirov and this is my fellow Lieutenant Stephen Summers. We are delighted to meet you,’ Paskirov began.
‘Aye, good day to you both. Can I be of service?’
‘How do you like our ship and our supreme commander?’ Stephens inquired.
‘The ship is fair enough. The commander is outside of my judgement.’
‘You know, we are curious about what happened down there before this fleet arrived. How did these aliens come? Was it hard to hold them off?’ Paskirov asked, faking interest.
‘Before you arrived, we were fighting for our lives. The aliens were pretty scary to stand against. It is probably easy to look at the footage, but when two of those dog-like ones jump in front of you, it is time for reflexes. Ahem, they are a tough foe, yes,’ Williams replied.
‘Let’s go to the cafeteria, we can sit there,’ Summers suggested.
‘Yes. Your men look pretty dangerous, I have to admit,’ Paskirov continued on their way there.
‘We are ghosts, a special corps. This was one of our first missions. I am not authorized to say more.’
‘Were you in the temple?’
‘Yes, we did enter it. But that’s enough.’
‘Well, you probably deal pretty bad damage with your rifles. Are they a Canister model?’
‘Yes, the new C-10. They are very effective against the aliens. This is so, because the aliens have some parts of their bodies unarmored, as I observed. A bullet there saves time and trouble.’
‘How much target practice have you done with your rifle, there?’ Summers took turn to ask.
‘Enough.’
‘How big was your group when you landed on this planet?’
‘We were about five hundred men, both fighting, and supporting personnel.’
‘Why did you land here?’
‘We heard… I cannot tell you that. I am sorry.’
‘Right. Where are you from, Williams? Tarsonis? I think I know your accent,’ Summers changed the topic.
Williams said nothing.
‘How old are you?’ Summers asked again.
‘I was born in 2456,’ he replied.
‘Nice. I was born in 2457. Boris here is ’58.’
They entered the empty cafeteria.
‘Anything else you need to know?’ Williams asked, ever coldly.
‘Sure, do you have a girl?’ Summers said.
Williams turned and aimed a cold sight at Summers.
‘No.’
‘I have a girl – she’s in Tarsonis,’ Paskirov said. ‘I’m from Tarsonis myself, I met her at a ball. My family is kinda old, you see, and…’
‘I think Williams is not concerned with personal matters, Boris. Want to have a drink, capt’n?’
‘As a matter of fact, I want to have a rest after the last 36 hours. I’m going to my assigned cabin.’
‘Right. Don’t worry if you find yourself disagreeing with the admiral, captian. People like me or Steve do it all the time,’ Paskirov said. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night to you,’ Williams replied. There was a minute of silence.
‘Of course, you did save the day those last seconds,’ Summers said.
‘Had to.’
‘Yep.’
‘You think he’s joining our side?’ Paskirov asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Yes.’
‘Early to tell.’
‘Right.’
‘Well, bedtime?’ Summers said.
‘Good idea, I need sleep after all this. See you tomorrow. Relatively speaking.’
****
CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
PLANET 2481L36CT, UNKNOWN SYSTEM
TEN HOURS LATER
Sun was now rising at their coordinates. The personnel on the ground had salvaged what could be salvaged and any repairs were affected. The rescued soldiers were loaded onto the ships with Williams and three of his ghost troops remaining on the flagship Vindicator. The fleet was preparing to leave and head back to Confederate space and the prevailing mood was one of relief that they are getting back home, where life continues.
In the battlecruiser, Paskirov paused his contribution to the preparations and went to Anders in one of the halls. The admiral was smoking a pipe looking at some papers.
‘Sir, aren’t we doing something about the ruins we discovered?’
‘What? Oh, boy, you again. No. That’s none of our business, lefftenant. We just picked these lost sheep and we’re flying back home.’
‘But, those are the first remains of an alien civilization that mankind has seen, sir. Should not we at least send some of the scientists to examine it?’
‘I don’t care what that is, lefftenant, it ain’t my job to care. We already charted enough planets, it’s time to get back. Now leave me, I’ve got damn paperwork to do!’
‘Yes sir,’ Paskirov exited.
Such a waste, he thought. We probably haven’t even charted this planet. Well, hopefully he would be assigned to another commander sometime in the future, a cleverer one. But first – stay on schedule.
Everything was packed and the ships began moving upwards to space and away from the planet. At fifteen kilometers above the surface, the human ships began moving forward and gradually moved into a suitable position for a warp jump homewards.
Warp space was one of the most useful discoveries in contemporary Terran history. It facilitated transfer of goods and information through space and, as some argue, made an interplanetary political entity such as the Terran Confederacy possible. Warp space technology enabled, as the name suggested, moving in what could be considered another dimension as a medium for taking shortcuts. Warp jumps could be long or short, depending on the ship’s capabilities. Long jumps required special warp engines enabled the ship to enter it and exit it, but not every vessel could be equipped with them. Their size and energy consumption meant that only bigger ships could make warp jumps. Also, warp travel required careful input of coordinates. It was extremely dangerous to just aim at a random point in space, among other things, because exiting warp space too close to a planet or a star could have disastrous consequences for the ship. Nevertheless, Terran technology was developed enough to offer a degree of accuracy that even enabled groups of jumping ships to exit warp space in the same formation they had entered it. So, despite any risks, warp travel was not something Terrans would abandon soon.
Now, the ships’ engines were warming up for a long jump. The ships were standing in high orbit over the temple planet, waiting for the fancy lights of warp space. Chester had completed his tasks on the warp engines and was now next to one of the few windows on the battlecruiser, located on the right side. Although the right couple of long-range batteries was hiding some of the view, stars and the star that kept this unknown system together were still visible. He was regretting the loss that it was to leave the temple unexamined. Stupid Confederates.
At least the stars were nice. The view of the enormous emptiness, the grandiose void between him and them was relieving. The stars were sparkling, and… Something materialized in the distance. Two tiny bright objects suddenly appeared and began approaching the human fleet. Chester looked more carefully. They were yellow and approached fast, judging from the rate of getting bigger. Ships, it seemed, they came out of warp space. More Confederates, perhaps, that had received the signal for help. But why were they yellow? Were they some sort of star cruisers that tourists used?
The objects kept approaching and Chester was astonished. They did not look like human ships. They were round and, looking directly at them, they had a dark spot in the middle surrounded by gold. Chester was hoping that the guys on the bridge were seeing this.
And, indeed, they were. Paskirov was astounded. The operators were trying to establish communication with the two ships, but in vain. Anders was getting nervous, since the fleet was already warming up for a warp jump and he was not in the mood for anything but getting home. Still, the executives watched, while the various dispatchers, operators, and engineers still could not hear anything.
The two ships approached and were now several hundred meters from the battlecruiser. Paskirov observed them, when he heard a “thump”. He looked.
‘Sir, somethnig’s wrong with Williams!’ Paskirov shouted.
Williams was now standing against a wall, holding his head with one hand. His face was twisted in pain.
‘V-v-voices,’ he uttered.
‘What?’ Anders said.
‘Maybe it’s from the golden alien ships, sir,’ Paskirov answered.
‘They are… in my head. Argh!’ Williams was trying to stand upright.
‘Get a medic!’ somebody said.
‘No, I’m alright. I can hear them, in my head. They are saying hello,’ the ghost responded.
‘You can hear them?” Paskirov asked in amazement.
‘I guess I can, Paskirov… Sometimes their voices appear.’
‘Captain, tell them that this is Admiral Anders of the Confederate Expeditionary Fleet Lambda speaking. We are here to… Wait, you told them that?’ Anders interrupted.
‘Yes, I did, go ahead,’ Williams uttered, leaning on a nearby wall but otherwise better.
‘Ahem, we are here to rescue Confederate forces from an alien attack. Who are you.’
A few seconds of tense silence in the bridge followed.
‘He says his name is… something like Zahraldis. He is Protoss and is the do-er, leader, erm… Executor of this fleet here,’ Williams then explained. His eyes stared into the emptiness for a short while again and he continued. ‘They are here to take object R, admiral. They want it. Back.’
‘How the hell do they know it’s with us,’ Anders angrily muttered. ‘None of you knows anything about this object, AM I CLEAR?’ he screamed at everybody on the bridge.
Several voices answered ‘Sir’ and then Summers broke the uneasy silence.
‘What shall we do, admiral?’
‘Williams, tell these… Protoss… that anything discovered on this planet is Confederate property and belongs to the Terran Confederacy and the human race. They hace no claim over anything we discover here. Let them leave,’ Anders said.
‘Yes, admiral,’ the ghost focused. One second later, he turned to the old man. ‘They say that what we found is a legacy of somebody, whose name I could not get, and that it rightfully belongs to their fleet, as the first-borne of the same somebody. They are ready to use force.’
‘Well tell them that their stories do not count here, captain. Let all ships arm up. Nobody defies the Confederacy.’
Paskirov clearly did not like where things were going. For one thing, these Protoss had one more big vessel than the Terrans did. It was beautiful, really, he thought. A ship made of gold, sleek and oval, with tiny blue lights in the interior, between the three enormous plates that covered whatever structures it had like the scales of a bud. Of course, if it were not turned straight at them it would be better, and… suddenly the hollow front half of one of the ships filled up with tiny blue lights like a cloud of moths. The other one followed.
‘Sir?’ one of the officers dared ask.
Obviously the docks were there somewhere and two small clusters of small ships that were leaving the big ships. That could not be good. Also, there were bigger ships approaching. Probably as big as a dropship, Paskirov thought. They looked more menacing, with two big triangular wings pointing backwards and another pair of smaller wings at the tail. There were about 40 of them, as far as he could see. They were not heading towards the Terrans, though, but were only flying around the huge carriers. For now.
‘Captain, tell these Protoss that they will have to take whatever they want from the scorched wreckage of this here Confederate battlecruiser,’ Anders said with disdain.
‘They say that they find our conditions acceptable, admiral,’ Williams replied in a low voice.
‘All ships attack formation. All batteries, open fire!’ Anders shouted.
The order was met with a wave of doubt among the crew. The admiral, however, did not share his men’s concern. The battlecruiser and the six Wanderer-class ships commenced an attack on the aliens.
Paskirov noticed that at first the Protoss fell back. However, after the initial hail of lasers, the enemy ships one by one assumed an attacking formation and headed towards the flagship battlecruiser. Several golden fighters made an attack move from above and against the bridge. The anti-air batteries took down several of them, either making them explode, or burn as their hulls got damaged. The surviving fighters, however, managed to fire several missiles at the top side of the battlecruiser. The missiles hit the neosteel surface and exploded in bright flashes, taking away rather huge parts of the armor.
‘We are not going to make it,’ Paskirov thought. ‘This old idiot will kill us all.’
He could not give an angry look at the admiral, however, as he saw three tiny flying machines, the kind of which first took off the enemy carriers, heading straight towards the bridge. Each of them fired two bright projectiles from their air cannons and hit the surface of the Vindicator meters from where Paskirov was. They flew past the bridge, but were hit by three homing missiles shot from somewhere behind the battlecruiser and exploded in mid-air above the left wing of their ship.
The battle was taking an unfortunate turn for the humans. As expected, Paskirov thought to himself, and there was an increasing number of reports for the Terran ships sustaining damage. Even though the batteries of the battlecruiser were formidable, the shiny golden enemy carrier had more than gold for defence. Whenever a laser hit the ship, Paskirov noticed, there was a blue glow where the hull should be sustaining damage and nothing happened. Their smaller craft also had such a feature, even though not as effective. Anders’ initial confidence was slowly melting away like the ship plating of a Wanderer-class vessel under focused Protoss fire. Williams was staying back with a nervous look on his face.
‘Captain, I am re-considering my position. Tell the enemy admiral, whatever his name was, that we want a ceasefire,’ Anders grunted.
‘Yes, I shall try’ Williams replied and focused. After a few moments, he turned back to the admiral. ‘Zaraldis informs me that we are to cease firing and make a warp jump to a designated location.’
‘WE stop firing? What does he think he is saying, I am not…’ Anders shouted.
‘Sir, do not forget that they… Were lucky this time,’ Paskirov tried to calm him down. It was an effort in diplomacy, trying to make an arrogant old Confederate come in peace with hard reason, Boris thought.
‘Well, alright. We’ll wait to fight another day and all. Ask him where he wants us to go.’
‘He is inquiring into how we measure space and time,’ Williams remarked, as the battle was abating.
‘A scientist! Quickly!’ Paskirov called.
Immediately, several engineers of the crew ran in, among them Chester, ready to interpret. The humans and the Protoss got to some conclusion over the length of the battlecruiser and time measurements and the Protoss shortly gave a direction and a distance of several light years.
‘We will be sending small groups of ships, a group at a time, while they will hold the rest of us hostage until it is confirmed from the other side that our group has arrived,’ Williams explained.
‘Damn! I already hate these arrogant Protoss, captain!’ the admiral’s fury erupted. ‘How dare they!’
‘They’ve got the bigger guns,’ Paskirov whispered to Chester.
The Terrans’ ships engines began warming up and the jumping commenced, as agreed. At gunpoint, the fleet slowly flew to an unknown planet in uncharted space, by the orders of an unidentified alien species with unknown technical capabilities. Yeah, just perfect, Boris was thinking. Nice mess the old fool got us into. Who knows what will happen to us and Williams’ sphere now.
The battlecruiser was last. Anders had already sent the tired crew to rest, hoping that there really would be another day they could have the chance of fighting these Protoss.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
How Capitalism Begets Democracy
I - ECONOMY
II - EDUCATION
III - POLITICS
IV - PREDICTIONS
II - EDUCATION
III - POLITICS
IV - PREDICTIONS
I - ECONOMY
The reason for that is that money makes it so. Money allows the bureaucracy to work well, and the military to be strong, and the nation to exploit the miracles of science in expensive programs that develop and use new technologies. Money bought the steel and kerosene and labor that sent Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong and Michael Collins on the moon. Money is what keeps the US military the strongest in the world. And, finally, money is what makes US bureaucracy so efficient and not corrupted. A government that has lots of money can fund various programs and train qualified personnel that can influence events in its favor all around the world (e.g. CIA budget). Or, simply, maintain high salaries for the ministers and the other high officials, with which they will live better.
Money comes from taxes. Taxes are sums taken from the citizens proportionally their income as well as some things they own. The more the income of people in the nation is, the more people buy and sell, the more taxes the government will safely collect each year. This means that the bigger the economy of the nation is, the larger the multiple bites of it, called taxes, will be. And so, the government will have more money.
Space Race: the capitalist US prevailed in the long run.
Therefore, the establishment of any economically motivated nation (free of the resource curse) will want to have a strong economy. They will watch over it, and will try to make sure that it works well and smoothly. But also, the prosperity of the economy is not only about pulling strings like banks' interest rates, following Friedman, or injecting adrenaline into the recessed corporations in the shape of stimulus packages, as Keynes advocates. The economy also needs the people who work.
The economy is made up of people who work. Usually in teams, ones will do physical labor, others will be tasked with research and development, and still others will calculate how the previous two in their firm/company are doing and will spend hour planning on how to allocate cash flowing in. The better these people work, the greater the profits of the firm, and so the higher the taxes that the government will receive. In other words, the government will want the employees of all such teams, from the big corporations to the smallest partnership, to be able to work well. Hopefully, as well as the people who make up companies like BMW - people with great technical skills in making cars, as well as business skills in selling them. Such teams are powerful opponents on the car market and help BMW move farther than many other car manufacturers in the race for selling cars. Thus making more money and in the meantime making the German government wealthier.
For this to happen, however, any company would need good people. It will need people who operate effectively and know their mechanical engineering and their math. It will need people who want to compete and who want their own company to prevail over the other companies. It will also need people who compete between each other and try to out-work one another in order to rise in their company. People who calculate possible outcomes of situations and make the most cost-effective decisions are the kind of people who best fill in the positions of any company.
This type of acting, with the best ends in mind, is called "rational" by the German sociologist Max Weber. Rational in the Weberian sense means two broad but connected things. It means types of social order where there is calculable law, rational commerce, a practical orientation to reality" (Morrison 2005, p.344). Its second meaning is more specifically about social action - what people do - that is characterized primarily with "means-ends calculations which increase the attainment of practical outcomes and social goals."
Rational (from now on in the essay I will use this word only in the Weberian sense unless specified otherwise), as we can see, is quite the attitude that works if one works in a company. An irrational person would make his/her decisions based on emotions or idealistic beliefs. In the economy, where decisions are always about allocating limited resources to the most cost-efficient ends, this attitude would not yield good results. An irrational person would not do the best things he could with the money/commodities he has. A Weberianly rational person, on the other hand, would stick to the most effective approach and will always prove more successful in the long run. A rational individual is exactly what a company wants because a person who does things with Weberian rationality is the kind of individual that best survives the competitive environment of capitalism. A rational person is most likely to work better than his/her peers and get a promotion. And, therefore, a rational person is most likely to serve his/her company better than his/her peers and help generate more income. A proportion of which would then go to the government in the form of taxes.
Also, the economy will want independent, self-conscious and self-interested people. These qualities also help an individual when s/he goes out in the market, where competition is inevitable and ubiquitous. They will assist the individual when s/he competes with others for the higher position or for a better job, or when s/he holds the reins of the business organizations and guides it towards profitable waters. And so, these qualities will ultimately generate more income to the individual or the company and more money from taxes for the establishment, too.
For this reason, governments of capitalist states will want a larger percentage of the population to be rationalized. The more rational people there are down there among the population, the more qualified working force will be there for the economy. Ergo, the more income the economy will generate and the more taxes will be collected. So the more capable of working on the market the population is, the wealthier the government will be.
II - EDUCATION
I have shown why the pursuit of economical welfare from the government will require more rationalized population. It will require that the people are more self-sufficient and eager to go out there and do work and make money. But how can a government ensure that its people are rationalized? The answer is simple: education.
The education system is THE best way the establishment influences what kind of people the next generation will be. The education system, after all, is where young people spend several hours each day for 3/4 of a year. The education system gives them work and they train on it and develop certain skills, so when they are out of school, they will be able to read and write and calculate things. My main point here is that where governments of capitalist societies want the economy to go well, the education will rationalize the children and will make them more independent, active, studious, fair, and generally better capable of making money for themselves.
For instance, why would students not get rewards for doing excessive work in one subject at the expense of another subject? Why would an essay lose marks not only if it is too short, but if it is also too long? The answer, I think, is because the education system wants to train young people to perform exactly the amount of labor they have to - no less but also no more.
How is this connected to the market? Well, when I was recently introduced to constrained optimization problems in microeconomics, I saw that the same philosophy was present there. Constrained optimization is a term from microeconomics that signifies how to calculate the best way to use one's limited resources. When I was solving one problem, I mistakenly interpreted the goal of the hypothetical factory to be the production of at least 200 cell phones instead of exactly 200 cell phones. This was, indeed, pure usage of rationalization and when I saw I was wrong, I remembered how teachers back at school used to disregard excessive achievements in clearly defined academic assignments. That is, "overproduction" in research papers, was frowned upon, just as it apparently is in microeconomics.
Furthermore, the education system also encourages competitiveness. Schools in the Western World have various rewards for exceptional performance in literature class or science class, as recognized by the school body. This means that the children mature in an environment that will reward their hard work and effort. To clarify any contradictions, in both examples I refer to situations where the rewarding is defined by the system. In other words, the student is told that working over the word limit for a paper is bad, even though common sense may suggest that it should be rewarded. The teacher lets pupils know that 10 000 word excesses are not what is required of them and will penalize such excesses: similarly to the quota of cell phones. And, similarly, there will be other criteria for what it means to have "exceptional performance" in a given class, so there will be a basic boundary between where the student can overwork him/herself and where s/he has to aim at a specific amount of work.
A more obvious, example, would be math classes. There, students are well-trained in arithmetics and deductive reasoning. It, of course, varies from country to country, but basically, such classes help young people get a good grasp of the rational mentality that Max Weber identifies.
And finally, education encourages honest labor. Cheating and using others' labor is frowned upon. Honesty in one's academic work is encouraged, indoctrinated and enforced. In our context, the reason the government will want the population to be used to honest labor is that such labor is best for the economy it wants. There are also social reasons, but I am pointing out specifically the economic one. In a healthy economy, people do not steal or engage in fraud. Also, there is no black market. How this helps the government is that a healthy economy is also orderly ad easily monitored, so the collection of income through taxes is clear and nobody can conceal his/her obligation to pay the government their due. So by training people to work by the rules, it makes it easier to collect taxes.
Thus, education in mature capitalist countries is characterized by (i) Weberian rationalization, (ii) spirit of pursuit of one's self-interest and (iii) spirit of fairplay.
III - POLITICS
I have shown what the economy requires to yield taxes for the government and how this ought to stimulate a government to educate its people. However, how does this connect to a libertarian kind of state? Why should a well-trained labor force that is put together in a strong economy want civil liberties? I will now argue that such rationalized peoples have increased political demands that are best met by liberal democracies.A rationalized and effective labor force will be independent and self-rational in the sense that people will have an idea of what they want to happen to themselves and will generally try to make this happen. For example, a woman would be certain she wants to wear certain clothes and will work to make money and obtain that dress. Or, a man would have made a decision of what school he ought to sign up the children in and will allocate money and time to make this happen. However, people also have some grasp of the politics of the country. At the very least, they will not be happy if the government does absolutely anything it wants with the money from taxes. A rationalized population will most certainly not tolerate continuous governmental abuses of power. At the very best, the mentality of pursuing self-interest is translated in the political activity through active civil participation.
People who have passed through this sort of "capitalist" education will have been used to points (i), (ii) and (iii). They will therefore have demands from their government for things. They will have awareness that the establishment has to provide some degree of order, honesty and care for society for the taxes they pay and also because this way is fair, and they will be generally inclined to want the establishment to do its job. The educated population's demands will hang on it for all its policies, according to this model.
For example, let us compare Saudi Arabia with Iran. Saudi Arabia is a "rentier state," or what in political theory is known as a state which exports lots of its natural resources. Thus, the Saudi government can still be wealthy without a well-developed economic sector. $329.7 of all $600.4 billion that the GDP is comprised of come from oil - more than half (Wikipedia). King Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz has access to wealth not thanks to a rich and vivid economy, but because of the oil deposits. Hence, there is no incentive to educate and rationalize the people of Saudi Arabia. And so, in Saudi Arabia the masses are not compromised of independent people who are willing to stand against the oppressive authoritarian regime and the adamantine (anti-Western) cultural domination of the Wahhabi clergy. Hence, there is no such civil society in the Kingdom as there is in the Western World.
Iran, it would seem is the same case as Saudi Arabia. Iran is a theocratic state with a religious leader on top whose authority matches that of the former Shah and an ineffective democratic apparatus. Shia Islam is the official cultural answer to the decadent influence of the ways and lives of the "Great Shaytan" that is the USA. Iran also has plenty of oil. However, Iran also has better economy than Saudi Arabia. Iran's GDP is several positions above Saudi Arabia's in the three lists of countries by GDP. The Kingdom is placed 22nd by the IMF and the CIA world factbook and 21st by the World Bank in the lists. The Islamic Republic, on the other hand fares 17th, 16th and 17th respectively. Iran's GDP is $876 billion but its exports are a mere $70.16 billion - one eight, showing a far better developed private sector. This means that at least a part of the population of Iran has to be subjected to Weber's rationalization and made capable work force. This part of the population, my model suggests, will stand for itself and demand political participation of some sort - that is, democracy.
Evaluating how democratic the democratic elements in Iran's convoluted government organs are is no doubt a field ridden with controversies and argument. However, I think that it is perfectly clear that the elections in Iran at least offer a vent for their democratic aspirations. Sure, the Guardian Council has this to say and the Ayatollah Khamenei has that to say, but we ARE ultimately electing the guy, aren't we?
In June, they apparently didn't. The election in Iran was very disputed and many people disagreed with the results, accusing the regime of manipulating the election and interfering in the democratic process: THEIR democratic process. Protests erupted in the big cities and the people walked on the streets to object to what they saw as unjust and defend their own opinion. In other words, the people of cities like Tehran behaved like rationalized, interest-pursuing Westerners would and protested.
I heard plenty of times back in the summer of how liberal the young people in Iran were and I saw how rebellious the protests actually turned out. This suggests that the Islamic Republic had actually adopted such education for its population that rationalized them and prepared them for the challenges of a free market, where they would work and try to gain money and generate higher taxes for the Ayatollah. With the money from these taxes, the Islamic Republic would supposedly build up a strong military, finance a nuclear program (a dubious claim), etc. By educating them so, however, the government of Iran had inevitably made them very libertarian and happiness-pursuing, which actually translated into politically conscious. Once they saw that their democracy was taken away from them, the young people of Iran immediately started working for it.
Criticism aside, this behavior seems surprisingly similar to what the people in the Western World would do if an election were manipulated. A very important reason Western governments are affluent is because they possesses competent and capable personnel for the economy. These governments have also provided good education to the people who nowadays make all the GDP, and these same people also (generally) have a position about political decisions. It's back to the old correlation between liberal democracy (A) and economic welfare (B). Does A cause B or B causes A?
Observing what effects the education system of capitalist states (like the Western World) or states who want to be economically strong (Iran) has not only on the economy but also on the political sphere leads me to think that both A and B are caused by a third thing - C - which is the degree to which the population is trained to achieve its goals of happiness. Well-educated people fare well in a free market economy, but their membership to a society is thus intrinsically connected to high sociopolitical expectations from the government.
In fact, I can bring one more example from the contemporary history of Iran. I remember what one source said about the 1953 and the 1979 changes in government there. To clarify, there was a coup d'état in 1953 when the current democratic leadership was taken down with the aid of the CIA and the Shah, Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, was given authoritarian rule over the country. In 1979 this same Shah was taken down by the displeased masses rallied around an old cleric by the name of Ruhollah Khomeini. The source said that when the majority of the people in Iran were poorly educated peasants, the CIA coup was easily achieved, but in 1979, when the people were more educated (I surmise the reason was that the Shah wanted some labor force for his bureaucracy) "no amount of military intervention from the US could prevent that." This shows the resilience to political manipulation and the social intractability that education brings to a population.
A less obvious example would be Ancient Greece and its socioeconomical specifics. From 10th to 5th century B.C.E. the poleis of the Ancient Hellenes were rising as local powers. They were characterized by active civil societies and by the 5th century some had democratic governments, most notably Athenai. At that time, no other democratic governments I know of existed in Europe, the Mediterranean region or Southwest Asia.
The socioeconomical specifics are simple - trade. Lots of trade. Because the islands and the mountainous terrain of the Hellenic world did not allow for efficient growing of crops, the Ancient Hellenes had to sail to Anatolia, the Levant, and the shores of Northern Africa to trade things for wheat.This meant that to make a living, these people had to learn skills that allowed them to trade - skills that allowed them to do business. In other words, the Ancient Hellenes enjoyed a state of life that mimicked Western capitalist education and naturally taught them basic lessons about economics that the West teaches its people in an artificial environment. This gave them Weberian rationality, an attitude of pursuing self-interest and the sense of abiding by the rules. Of course, the "lessons" of that lifestyle were very different from modern education, but the mentality was different. Relative to the mentality of the other people, that of the Ancient Hellenes had to be fundamentally similar to that a modern Westerner.
And so, having acquired that kind of mentality, the Greeks had the first democracies in the world.
And, furthermore, during the 19th century, the Great Powers in Europe introduced compulsory popular education for precisely that reason - to have a capable working force for the industry, according to Marilynn Hitchens and Heidi Roupp (the authoresses of the "BARRON'S SAT Subject Test World History 2008 3rd edition" textbook).
IV - PREDICTIONS
This model suggests several interesting things.
1. For instance, that whenever a government begins to educate a previously uneducated population, no matter how authoritarian it initially is, it will have to yield to popular pressure from below sooner or later. Psychologically, the people will be one step more independent and imperious than a mob.Economic liberalism is connected to the political one.
2.Furthermore, the more educated in the kind of capitalist attitude I described above, the more similar the society will be to a contemporary Western kind of society with educated population (Cold War era and onward). In other words, economic development is intrinsically linked to westernization. India, a democracy - the largest in the world, in fact - is currently developing towards an economic power. This model predicts that India sometime in the next century will become quite reminiscent of the USA during the latter half of the 20th century because economic growth will require the Indian government to educate the people in the Western way.
I need to note that there is nothing intrinsically special about the West, overall. Any claims that the White Man has achieved such high feats of intellectual development or whatever are completely absurd. I believe that any population of human beings, I repeat, any population, would perform as well as the Ancient Hellenes in building the first democracy. Even if future technologies enable us to travel back in time to 10th century B.C.E. and somehow evacuate the entire populations of the Hellenic world and in their places put people from Siberia (and teach the Siberians the most basic things like pottery or shipbuilding) the ethnic Siberians will do just as well as the ethnic Hellenes did. As for the Hellenes, if they find themselves in Siberia, they will spend the next two millenia underdeveloped and barbarized. The reason I am highlighting the Ancient Hellenes achieved such unprecedented intellectual accomplishments is simply that they found themselves in that region, where they had to trade and adopt some primeval form of rational Western education in order to survive.
3. When the population is no longer educated in a rationalized way, the democratic process will cease and the society will be reverted back to some sort of authoritarian political state. The reason this will happen is that there will be nobody to keep the ruling in check. The new generations will not be trained to survive in a free market and as a side-effect to this their ability to stand for their liberties in society will be severely crippled. Chances are, any liberal democracy that has bad education for too long will find itself descending into an illiberal chaos of repression and authoritarianism and will look like Saudi Arabia or Egypt, where the political process is very unlike that in the Free World. I regret to write it, but it seems that this is exactly where Europe is heading to.
CONCLUSION
Thus, capitalism helps us have our civil liberties. By virtue of being the best economic system available, capitalism is preferred by the establishment. However, it also demands that the population is well educated, which inevitably leads to the population being politically restive, which compels the establishment to adapt the political system to the new libertarian attitudes of the masses and adopt a type of government that is more and more similar to that of Western Liberal Democracy. And so, if this grand narrative of mine is correct, liberty will certainly have some future, for as long as capitalism is the number 1 economic order known to man.NOTES:
During the article, one may think of consumerism and where does that fall in the whole equation. Consumerism, the culture of spending money and getting commodities in return, is certainly something that the USA and the West are heavily criticized nowadays for. After all, it does cause all this pollution, and furthermore it is spiritually dehumanizing. Would not capitalism cause consumerism? Well, it does. In Marxian terms, it is the ideology of spending that permeates modern American culture. I would agree that it helps the USA have such high GDP, but it is not the only reason for any spiritual deprivation you could blame capitalism for.Rationalization also leads to spiritual deprivation. Weber himself realized that back in the days. It is true that urbanization and industrialization in the West had left it worse off than the non-industrialized world, particularly the religious Southwest Asia. In fact, this is what led to the decline of secularism and the rise of things like the New Age movement, according to Hitchens and Roupp. One of the reasons that people in the US turn away from decent science and towards pseudoscientific perversions like the New Age movement is because real science does not offer the spiritual religious-like satisfaction that they find in the vagaries of the N.A.m..
Also, to be faithful to the rational ideals of the Enlightenment, I will need to mention some possible criticism towards my model.
CRITICISM
1. China
China seems an exception to the big rule I defined above. China experiences great economic growth, but there still are no libertarian urges present in their society. After Tiananmen, nothing has threatened the power of the incumbent Communist Party. This clearly is a contradiction.
I suppose this contradiction can be resolved if we observe two aspects of the work of the party. First, the party seems to care about the population. Authoritarian leadership generally is lenient to answering the plight of the people and fighting poverty and very low standards of life. The Chinese Communist Party, it seems, does not share this attitude and tries to raise the standard of life of its people. For instance, the government's reactions in assisting earthquake victims are remarkably fast and efficient. Therefore, the Chinese population is likely to consent to the rule of the Party because the people know that although there is no alternative, Party rule is in itself not such a bad alternative.
Second, corruption. There is extensive corruption in the Communist Party nowadays and this has attracted great criticism from all around the world towards the government. I do not know the details, but I suppose that the urban population actually considers corruption a good thing and benefits from it. Hence, this would mean that the urban population of China will want the Party to remain in order to keep buying special services from party officials.
2. Germania
The Corner of Unter den Linden and Friedrichstraße (c. 1900)
After its unification in January 1871, Germany's rapid industrialization surpassed that of Great Britain and France. Economically, Germany was performing excellently. However, it did not lose its strong central authority with the strengthening of its economy as had happened in Great Britain (although the Industrial Revolution was just another nail in the coffin of royal executive authority in the long run). This seems to be a contradiction.
I think it is resolved when we observe the kind of militarist society in the German Empire. A Prussian legacy, it emphasized hard work, but also service and duty. I have only general impressions of the German society at that period but they reek of discipline and army-like order. This suggests that the Kaiser had achieved this level of economic development without having to resort to inspiring self-interest (ii) in his subjects, but only using the Prussian education to facilitate rationalization (i) and a sense of living by the rigid rules of the Fatherland (iii taken to an extreme). Thus, the population was not psychologically apt to stand for itself. To add to that, Bismarck had introduced socialism to the Prussian society in the decades before the Unification, which further helped preclude civil opposition to the Kaiser's rule (something like China).
Of course, the consideration may arise that a population that is not raised to pursue its self-interest may not be fit for a free market. And capitalism had taken root in Europe long before the Second Reich was declared in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. How, then, did Germany stay afloat economically?
The answer is simple. Education was not the same for everyone. In fact, there were two types of schools - one for the common people and one for the children of the aristocracy. I am not certain but I believe that the first type did, indeed, focus on (i) and (iii), as it provided the workers for the industry, while the second type also covered (ii), thus fostering a spirit of leadership in the high-class youth who would inherit control over companies like Krupp and would need to have more than just discipline to bring economic prosperity to the Reich and tax revenue to the Kaiser - initiative.
REFERENCES
Morrison, K. (2005) Marx, Durkheim, Weber Formations of Modern Social Thought. London: Sage Ltd.
Wikipedia
http://cold-war-killer-bees.wikispaces.com/file/view/300_14846.jpg/35372497/300_14846.jpg
http://data70.sevenload.com/slcom/ts/nn/fmledee/jmypqkflsjgg.jpg
http://levine.sscnet.ucla.edu/images/max_weber.jpg
https://seguecommunity.middlebury.edu/repository/viewfile/polyphony-repository___repository_id/edu.middlebury.segue.sites_repository/polyphony-repository___asset_id/1403515/polyphony-repository___record_id/1403516/polyphony-repository___file_name/class%20view%20e100.jpg%20view%20e100.jpg
http://puesoccurrences.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/iran-protests-irish-times.jpg
http://www.soue.org.uk/souenews/issue5/jenkin1.jpg
http://germanhistorydocs.ghi-dc.org/images/6193-p.jpg
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Operation Stellar Shrine: Notes and Credits
http://www.thehelper.net/forums/showthread.php?t=137647 for list of chapters.
Inspired by Tom Clancy's "Red Storm Rising" and "StarCraft" and the fuss about SC2.
I wanted to make something like Red Storm Rising in space, but canon only allowed for so much. And canon > me. Fighting may be too much, but that's a largely military fanfic for an RTS.
I generally avoided including things that belong to human history, but could not have been sent into space along with Doran Routhe's 40 000 exiles. It would be cool for Paskirov to have an old family AK-47 or to have him quote too many military thinkers, such as Klausewitz, but it would be un-canonical and anachronistic. The compromise are the names of the science vessels and the battlecruiser Graf von Moltke. Note that "Graf" is a title, not his first name. The guy is called Helmuth (von) Moltke, and he becomes a Graf (~ Count) by the end of his life as a reward for his military service fur ze kaiser.
I also simplified the NATO map symbols for the illustrations. Think of the little squares on the sheets as the grid :). Most of the letters in the top left-hand corner are just random and mean nothing.
But then, while writing the last three chapters, I realized that it actually felt easier and less constrained if I used the original thing (so I did).
Needless to say, any matches with real people's names are entirely coincidental.
Except for the new chars in Wings of Steel.
Paskirov was inspired by Pavel Leonidovich Alexeyev from Red Storm Rising. He looks like Derek Almond from "V for Vendetta."
Williams = inspired by Dolph Lundgren
Carla = arithmetic mean of Joanna from "American Dad" and Nova
The Sei'Tara carriers lack the "fins" visible on the canon carriers belonging to the Khalai in the game.
Also, the Sei'Tara do not have corsairs. But they do have Templar Archives. And are much better developed overall than most other Dark Templar tribes. Explaining the heavy ships.
Sei'Tara elite guard, and especially Avissian, inspired by http://jtsubconscious8.deviantart.com/art/Starcraft-2-DarkTemplar-126925578
The battlecruisers' bridges look similar to those of the StarWars star destroyers.
The eagle mission badge of the fleet looks like the arms of the Holy Roman Emperor (ante-1368), i.e. the thing in the middle of the the shield in the blog picture. With a stylized picture of Umoja above it, like the weird stars above the U.S. eagle.
All ships' color-bearing sections are black with a yellow/gold border.
All infantry's combat suits and all vehicles' steel armor are painted the same way, with the occasional mission badge.
The nukes, especially the second one, bear similarities to the nukes in the Ivy Mike and Castle Bravo tests during the first years of the Cold War.
At the end, when the Zerg are deploying for the last time, there are special, bigger breed of overlords shown. But, I guess that particular evolutionary branch wasn't very effective for the Zerg.
Zerg make their warp portals when many overlords come together and focus their psionic abilities to make a wormhole. No? I know, it just sounded sound and sense-making.
Yea, what's with the scrolls... ^^
Thanks to:
http://starcraft.wikia.com/
(you guys made it possible!)
James Phinney, Chris Metzen and others for the job well done
eventually TAFKAL80ETC for "Terran up the Night"
NATO for declassifying APP-6A
Kevin Ojeda a.k.a. BANANAMAN (@ TheHelper forums) for precious battle knowledge and pro skillz
Vladi for technical advise
Science and instrumental reason for improving human life.
Miltiades, Themistocles, the Byzantines, Charles Martel, the philosophes and the US presidents from Truman to Reagan for helping preserve the Graeco-Roman tradition in this world.
Inspired by Tom Clancy's "Red Storm Rising" and "StarCraft" and the fuss about SC2.
I wanted to make something like Red Storm Rising in space, but canon only allowed for so much. And canon > me. Fighting may be too much, but that's a largely military fanfic for an RTS.
I generally avoided including things that belong to human history, but could not have been sent into space along with Doran Routhe's 40 000 exiles. It would be cool for Paskirov to have an old family AK-47 or to have him quote too many military thinkers, such as Klausewitz, but it would be un-canonical and anachronistic. The compromise are the names of the science vessels and the battlecruiser Graf von Moltke. Note that "Graf" is a title, not his first name. The guy is called Helmuth (von) Moltke, and he becomes a Graf (~ Count) by the end of his life as a reward for his military service fur ze kaiser.
I also simplified the NATO map symbols for the illustrations. Think of the little squares on the sheets as the grid :). Most of the letters in the top left-hand corner are just random and mean nothing.
But then, while writing the last three chapters, I realized that it actually felt easier and less constrained if I used the original thing (so I did).
Needless to say, any matches with real people's names are entirely coincidental.
Except for the new chars in Wings of Steel.
Paskirov was inspired by Pavel Leonidovich Alexeyev from Red Storm Rising. He looks like Derek Almond from "V for Vendetta."
Williams = inspired by Dolph Lundgren
Carla = arithmetic mean of Joanna from "American Dad" and Nova
The Sei'Tara carriers lack the "fins" visible on the canon carriers belonging to the Khalai in the game.
Also, the Sei'Tara do not have corsairs. But they do have Templar Archives. And are much better developed overall than most other Dark Templar tribes. Explaining the heavy ships.
Sei'Tara elite guard, and especially Avissian, inspired by http://jtsubconscious8.deviantart.com/art/Starcraft-2-DarkTemplar-126925578
The battlecruisers' bridges look similar to those of the StarWars star destroyers.
The eagle mission badge of the fleet looks like the arms of the Holy Roman Emperor (ante-1368), i.e. the thing in the middle of the the shield in the blog picture. With a stylized picture of Umoja above it, like the weird stars above the U.S. eagle.
All ships' color-bearing sections are black with a yellow/gold border.
All infantry's combat suits and all vehicles' steel armor are painted the same way, with the occasional mission badge.
The nukes, especially the second one, bear similarities to the nukes in the Ivy Mike and Castle Bravo tests during the first years of the Cold War.
At the end, when the Zerg are deploying for the last time, there are special, bigger breed of overlords shown. But, I guess that particular evolutionary branch wasn't very effective for the Zerg.
Zerg make their warp portals when many overlords come together and focus their psionic abilities to make a wormhole. No? I know, it just sounded sound and sense-making.
Yea, what's with the scrolls... ^^
Thanks to:
http://starcraft.wikia.com/
(you guys made it possible!)
James Phinney, Chris Metzen and others for the job well done
eventually TAFKAL80ETC for "Terran up the Night"
NATO for declassifying APP-6A
Kevin Ojeda a.k.a. BANANAMAN (@ TheHelper forums) for precious battle knowledge and pro skillz
Vladi for technical advise
Science and instrumental reason for improving human life.
Miltiades, Themistocles, the Byzantines, Charles Martel, the philosophes and the US presidents from Truman to Reagan for helping preserve the Graeco-Roman tradition in this world.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Полумесецът и полумесецът със звезда като символи
Повечето хора днес отговарят на въпроса "Символ на какво са полумесецът и звездата?" със "Исляма", но това не е вярно.
Обяснимо е защо обикновеният западняк си мисли това. Все пак в знамената на много ислямски държави има полумесец със звезда. В Близкия изток си направиха "Red Crescent" защото Червеният кръст се счита за твърде християнски (1). В Battlefield2 знамето на МЕС (познайте коя авраамова религия изповядват) е с полумесец.
Въпреки това, полумесецът (със звезда) всъщност не е символ на исляма. За начало, много от самите мюсюлмани отказват да го приемат за символ (2), (3). Причината за това е, че исляма по принцип няма символи, тъй като влизат в дефиницията "идолопоклонничество" заедно с изобразяването на хора или животни или растения. Има спекулации, че петте лъча на звездата, която е стандартната звезда по флаговете символизират петте молитви дневно, които мюсюлманите са длъжни да правят, но такава звезда не е стандарт за знамената, нито пък е била стандарт за османските знамена, нито пък наистина символизира норматива от пет молитви (ibid.). Така че - ислямът не е свързан директно със този символ.
В интерес на истината, за разпространението на този символ са отговорни османците. Причината той да се разпространи из арабския свят са именно османските завоевания и културния обмен (3). Съвпадение е, че полумесец със звезда се е паднал да бъде на знамето на Империята. Именно в нея той се появява по знамената на армията, на флота, а и по минаретата (4). Причината, пък, западняците да го мислят за знак на исляма, са вековете война между Османската империя и западни сили (2). Колкото до навлизането му в Османската империя, има легенда, според която Утман (създателя на османската династия) сънувал полумесец, който се разпростирал от единия край на света до другия (ibid.). За всеки случай, полумесеца е присъствал на знамената на пехотата на султан Орхан (1324-1360) (4), както и на мамелюците по времето на монголската инвазия (5). Самото афилииране на полумесеца със ислям в очите на Запада става едва след 1453 (2), макар че аз лично смятам, че българи и сърби, били се срещу Османските турци сигурно са виждали полумесец над вражеските полкове. Това мое заключение се базира на факта, че Орхан е живял когато още е имало ВБЦ, Сърбия, и дори Византия, с които той е воювал, разширявайки владенията си. Както и да е, в по-повърхносните източници пише, че Османските турци приемат полумесеца едва след като превземат Константинопол...
...което е наистина интересно, тъй като тогава освен на плячка се натъкват и на много червени знамена с полумесеци и започват да смятат символа за добра поличба (60)*. Полумесец е бил използван за символ на Бюзантион хилядолетие преди Мохамед да стане пророк.
Връзките между градът на Константин и този символ датират от древността. Бюзантион, както се произнася правилно на древногръцки, се спасява от войска на Филип Македонски през 339 пр. н. е., когато тя е била забелязана благодарение на светлия полумесец в нощта (6). Бил е знак на близкоизточната богиня Астарте, както и на картагенската богиня Танит и древногръцката богиня Артемида (4), (2) и оттам и полумесеца се е разпространил като символ из хеленистичния свят, включително и в Бизантиум. Предполага се, че градът приема полумесеца в чест на Артемида/Диана (ibid.). Когато римляните превземат града, символът си остава. Други източници твърдят, че полумесецът става символ след като римляните спечелват голяма победа срещу готите, която се падала в началото на лунния месец (7). Сигурно е, обаче, че по времето на Константин 1ви, полумесецът си е бил официален символ и именно Константин му добавя звездата. Когато Бизантиум се преименува на Константинопол и става Втори, християнски, Рим, Константин добавя звезда в полумесеца в чест на Дева Мария (8). От 330, до 1453, градът си има бял полумесец със бяла звезда на червен фон на знамето, (ibid.), подобно на съвременното знаме на Република Турция.
Най-ранните употреби на полумесец и звезда изобщо датират отпреди хилядолетия, когато хора в Централна Азия и Сибир го използват във почитането на небесните тела (7). Използвали са го китайската династия Жу, и древни гърци, и персийци, и монголи (8). Полумесецът е бил символ на Сасанидската империя и се е виждал по короните на владетелите и по сечените монети на империята (ibid.). Общо взето, неправилно е полумесец със звезда да се считат за символ на мохамеданството. Най-малкото, че ранният Ислям не е имал каквито и да било символи дори по знамената. Знамето на Умайядския халифат е било бяло, на Аббасидския е било черно, на Фатимидския е било зелено. Байряците на войските им са били монохромни
(3). Нещо повече, отпреди падането на Константинопол, звезда с полумесец са се използвали и в Западна Европа - такава е била емблемата на Ричард I Lionheart (6)**
В днешно време се използва в полицията на Ню Орлиънз (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:NOPD_badge.png) чак от 1855; прякора на града е "crescent city", според статията.
Това не го намерих сред темите, а нещата ми се струват интересни и актуални, та реших да напиша нещо.
* но точно този източник не ми се струва особено достоверен - бел. сиз.
** тук Рафаел Нарбаез, автора на (6), трябва да е познал, защото тук (http://www.heraldsnet.org/saitou/parker/Jpglosse.htm) го намирам за герб на Ричард, а и на Хенри 3ти.
Източници, по ред на цитиране в текста:
(1) http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_does_...mbol_stand_for
(2) http://www.islamonline.net/servlet/S...=1119503544398
(3) http://www.religionfacts.com/islam/symbols.htm
(4) http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/...42628/crescent
(5) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_...i_al-Khazandar
(6) http://www.cyberistan.org/islamic/crescent1.htm
(7) http://islam.about.com/od/history/a/crescent_moon.htm
(8) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_and_crescent
(a post of mine in the BoinaSlava forums)
Обяснимо е защо обикновеният западняк си мисли това. Все пак в знамената на много ислямски държави има полумесец със звезда. В Близкия изток си направиха "Red Crescent" защото Червеният кръст се счита за твърде християнски (1). В Battlefield2 знамето на МЕС (познайте коя авраамова религия изповядват) е с полумесец.
Въпреки това, полумесецът (със звезда) всъщност не е символ на исляма. За начало, много от самите мюсюлмани отказват да го приемат за символ (2), (3). Причината за това е, че исляма по принцип няма символи, тъй като влизат в дефиницията "идолопоклонничество" заедно с изобразяването на хора или животни или растения. Има спекулации, че петте лъча на звездата, която е стандартната звезда по флаговете символизират петте молитви дневно, които мюсюлманите са длъжни да правят, но такава звезда не е стандарт за знамената, нито пък е била стандарт за османските знамена, нито пък наистина символизира норматива от пет молитви (ibid.). Така че - ислямът не е свързан директно със този символ.
В интерес на истината, за разпространението на този символ са отговорни османците. Причината той да се разпространи из арабския свят са именно османските завоевания и културния обмен (3). Съвпадение е, че полумесец със звезда се е паднал да бъде на знамето на Империята. Именно в нея той се появява по знамената на армията, на флота, а и по минаретата (4). Причината, пък, западняците да го мислят за знак на исляма, са вековете война между Османската империя и западни сили (2). Колкото до навлизането му в Османската империя, има легенда, според която Утман (създателя на османската династия) сънувал полумесец, който се разпростирал от единия край на света до другия (ibid.). За всеки случай, полумесеца е присъствал на знамената на пехотата на султан Орхан (1324-1360) (4), както и на мамелюците по времето на монголската инвазия (5). Самото афилииране на полумесеца със ислям в очите на Запада става едва след 1453 (2), макар че аз лично смятам, че българи и сърби, били се срещу Османските турци сигурно са виждали полумесец над вражеските полкове. Това мое заключение се базира на факта, че Орхан е живял когато още е имало ВБЦ, Сърбия, и дори Византия, с които той е воювал, разширявайки владенията си. Както и да е, в по-повърхносните източници пише, че Османските турци приемат полумесеца едва след като превземат Константинопол...
...което е наистина интересно, тъй като тогава освен на плячка се натъкват и на много червени знамена с полумесеци и започват да смятат символа за добра поличба (60)*. Полумесец е бил използван за символ на Бюзантион хилядолетие преди Мохамед да стане пророк.
Връзките между градът на Константин и този символ датират от древността. Бюзантион, както се произнася правилно на древногръцки, се спасява от войска на Филип Македонски през 339 пр. н. е., когато тя е била забелязана благодарение на светлия полумесец в нощта (6). Бил е знак на близкоизточната богиня Астарте, както и на картагенската богиня Танит и древногръцката богиня Артемида (4), (2) и оттам и полумесеца се е разпространил като символ из хеленистичния свят, включително и в Бизантиум. Предполага се, че градът приема полумесеца в чест на Артемида/Диана (ibid.). Когато римляните превземат града, символът си остава. Други източници твърдят, че полумесецът става символ след като римляните спечелват голяма победа срещу готите, която се падала в началото на лунния месец (7). Сигурно е, обаче, че по времето на Константин 1ви, полумесецът си е бил официален символ и именно Константин му добавя звездата. Когато Бизантиум се преименува на Константинопол и става Втори, християнски, Рим, Константин добавя звезда в полумесеца в чест на Дева Мария (8). От 330, до 1453, градът си има бял полумесец със бяла звезда на червен фон на знамето, (ibid.), подобно на съвременното знаме на Република Турция.
Най-ранните употреби на полумесец и звезда изобщо датират отпреди хилядолетия, когато хора в Централна Азия и Сибир го използват във почитането на небесните тела (7). Използвали са го китайската династия Жу, и древни гърци, и персийци, и монголи (8). Полумесецът е бил символ на Сасанидската империя и се е виждал по короните на владетелите и по сечените монети на империята (ibid.). Общо взето, неправилно е полумесец със звезда да се считат за символ на мохамеданството. Най-малкото, че ранният Ислям не е имал каквито и да било символи дори по знамената. Знамето на Умайядския халифат е било бяло, на Аббасидския е било черно, на Фатимидския е било зелено. Байряците на войските им са били монохромни
(3). Нещо повече, отпреди падането на Константинопол, звезда с полумесец са се използвали и в Западна Европа - такава е била емблемата на Ричард I Lionheart (6)**В днешно време се използва в полицията на Ню Орлиънз (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:NOPD_badge.png) чак от 1855; прякора на града е "crescent city", според статията.
Това не го намерих сред темите, а нещата ми се струват интересни и актуални, та реших да напиша нещо
.* но точно този източник не ми се струва особено достоверен - бел. сиз.
** тук Рафаел Нарбаез, автора на (6), трябва да е познал, защото тук (http://www.heraldsnet.org/saitou/parker/Jpglosse.htm) го намирам за герб на Ричард, а и на Хенри 3ти.
Източници, по ред на цитиране в текста:
(1) http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_does_...mbol_stand_for
(2) http://www.islamonline.net/servlet/S...=1119503544398
(3) http://www.religionfacts.com/islam/symbols.htm
(4) http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/...42628/crescent
(5) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_...i_al-Khazandar
(6) http://www.cyberistan.org/islamic/crescent1.htm
(7) http://islam.about.com/od/history/a/crescent_moon.htm
(8) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_and_crescent
(a post of mine in the BoinaSlava forums)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Failed Fanfic Verses
At the beginning of the summer, I thought to myself "Hm, StarCraft is coming and I feel like wanting some sci-fi in my life, why not write a fanfic?" I eventually came up with the story, all filled with action, heroism, and battles that try to be as accurate as Tom Clancy's. However, I also planned to have it written in iambic pentameter, because I like reading stuff that actually rhymes (like some non-cheesy parts of Eugene Onegin, or the Aeneid, or ManOwaR lyrics), AND it would look like Paradise Lost. However, I soon realized that writing it in rhymes is very difficult. Not only did I have problems fitting words like "battlecruiser" or "protoss" in a 5-syllable line, but also finding rhymes is by itself time-consuming and I would inevitably be spending long months just trying to figure out what rhymes with words like "zerg," "carrier," or "cerebrate." Therefore, it's just normal text. Here's some of what didn't make it:
The wall of bullets failed to repel
The neverending hordes of charging hell
He [a traitor in the fleet] touched the console with his trembling hand
Prepared to see the enemy command -
Of such a situation he had dreamt.
Paskirov's eyes were burning with contempt,
And probably all of Paskirov's staff
Were feeling thus. But he, Mailloux, could laugh
Because the fleet he had betrayed could not prevail
Against the Zerg defenses. They will fail
In any frontal charge. But if they try
To lay a siege they'll have to wait, and from the sky
A cloud of angry horrors will arrive.
Then, with a million fangs and claws they'll drive
Away the proud and daring Terran fools,
Whose puny weaponry and scientific tools
Paskirov proudly claimed could hurt this swarm.
[bla-bla] commander.
We're here led by his skillful hand,
Around the golden camp. We stand
Awaiting for the Protoss to surrender.
He ran away from th'enemy in hope
Of getting far away before
The vicious Zerg who routed the marines
Befall upon him, too, with cruel fangs.
The roar of battle louder grew. He fell,
He stumbled from exhaustion and collapsed
Upon the rocky slope. He looked upwards,
As if to get away from the pursuing death,
And saw bright lights - instead of sky
There was a battlecruiser's giant hull
And tiny Terran ships about it.
The wall of bullets failed to repel
The neverending hordes of charging hell
He [a traitor in the fleet] touched the console with his trembling hand
Prepared to see the enemy command -
Of such a situation he had dreamt.
Paskirov's eyes were burning with contempt,
And probably all of Paskirov's staff
Were feeling thus. But he, Mailloux, could laugh
Because the fleet he had betrayed could not prevail
Against the Zerg defenses. They will fail
In any frontal charge. But if they try
To lay a siege they'll have to wait, and from the sky
A cloud of angry horrors will arrive.
Then, with a million fangs and claws they'll drive
Away the proud and daring Terran fools,
Whose puny weaponry and scientific tools
Paskirov proudly claimed could hurt this swarm.
[bla-bla] commander.
We're here led by his skillful hand,
Around the golden camp. We stand
Awaiting for the Protoss to surrender.
He ran away from th'enemy in hope
Of getting far away before
The vicious Zerg who routed the marines
Befall upon him, too, with cruel fangs.
The roar of battle louder grew. He fell,
He stumbled from exhaustion and collapsed
Upon the rocky slope. He looked upwards,
As if to get away from the pursuing death,
And saw bright lights - instead of sky
There was a battlecruiser's giant hull
And tiny Terran ships about it.
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