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Post by luckymcdowell on Oct 10, 2010 21:17:35 GMT -5
Hudson Kyle was never much for words. A year after ARES took Mars, and declared a Free Martian State, Kyle had gotten himself in way over his head.
So he started to read, one page at a time.
Being the right hand man of revolution'll do that to you.
Kellar had gone and gotten the idea that Kyle was the perfect man to be his Vice President. They'd been in so many scrapes together, it made sense to the man. And to Kyle, it seemed like a great plan to.
On paper.
Kyle'd never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he'd see a problem and fix it, quick and practical like. And Mars had a lot of problems that needed practical solutions.
So he started to read. One page at a time.
Trouble was, Hudson couldn't get out of his own way. He was used to using his own two hands(and if that didn't work, his own two fists) to fix something. And what made matters worse was his realization that he COULDN'T fix things the old way. The VP spot had no real power. No real way to fix anything. And Hudson couldn't stand this.
So he started to read. One page at a time.
He didn't know how to work the system, even a system he'd helped put into place. A glorified figurehead, below a living god.
He would change that.
From his office in the Capital Building, he started to learn. He'd earn this spot. He'd make Jonas proud.
He'd make Mars proud.
One page at a time.
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Post by jacobin on Oct 10, 2010 20:58:48 GMT -5
He had been round the Sphere and back. Gutted Federation soldiers in Side 1, stolen the largest battleship he'd ever seen. Attacked innocent merchants at Side 6, taken control of space stations in L3 and then in Deep Space. He'd stormed his way through a Jupitris, fought tanks and mobile suits with his wits and his trusty dagger. And he'd come back home, to the familiarity of Mars, only to assault its capital city.
Jacobin Conroy was a man who the devil himself awaited eagerly in hell. No amount of prayer, no amount of penance would absolve him of his these many sins. He had been a pirate, a terrorist, a murderer, a thief. He had done it all, seen it all, been it all.
But one thing kept the Martian going. For this one thing, he was able to be at peace with his own tarnished soul. And, sitting on the soft brown rug deep under Olympus Mons, he smiled happily at the symbol of his terrible rampage.
And his grandmother, comforted by all the medicine and soft material belongings that a mercernary could buy, smiled back.
Jacobin was finaly home.
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Post by faultylogic on Oct 10, 2010 20:51:04 GMT -5
The man in the sharply dressed clothes sat in his chair, eying the two armed guards nearby. He leveled his gaze at the giant elaborate chair in front of him. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but if this your idea of a friendly talk..."
"Talk?" Replied the voice from the other side of the chair. It slowly swiveled around, reveal an aged, but still pleasant looking female. She slowly pet the docile white cat on her lap. "I didn't bring you in expecting you to talk. No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to... dine."
The man muttered out in disbelief. "What?"
"No, really. You should try our famous fried space calamari. It's to die for."
"I'm not sure what to say next..."
A voice from the door gave out a suggestion. "Just nod and enjoy your meal, Mr. Bond. Our chairman might seem a bit eccentric, but she has nothing but the best interest at heart for you and your corporation. She values the contract a lot."
The woman in the elaborate chair smiled. "Glad you could make it, Professor Gwen."
"Don't call me that, Roslyn! Er, um..." She straighten her uniform and gave out a cough. "I meant, please refrain from using that title when we're discussing business. For now, I'm the vice chairman." She took out a folder from her arms and place it on the table in front of the corporation's representative. "Everything you need to know about the deal that we're offering is here. If you have any questions..."
"Wait a minute. I came here to negotiate, not read a contract that we have yet to discuss yet."
Roslyn replied. "No, you came here to read and sign a contract. If we wanted to negotiate, we would've asked other companies to bid for our contract, but instead, we choose your company. If you didn't want this, you didn't have to personally come all the way here to negotiate. But you did. So, there is no negotiation, there is either sign or sign, since not signing would mean missing out on a lot of money for little to no risk and only an idiot would not sign, and we made sure we didn't get an idiot to work with us now, did we?"
The male nervously shift his gaze between the two powerful females in the room before finally hanging his hand in resignation. "You'll get the signed contract by tomorrow morning..."
"Good. Now that's settled, who's up for some fried space-calamari?"
~
"Why you're never that lucid every other time is beyond me."
Roslyn bit into the fried space-calamari, actually earth based calamari but born and raised in space, and ripped off a piece from the stick. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, I have no idea myself now, either. And hurry up with that thing, we have a newcomer to show around the colony."
"Newcomer? When did we start hiring again?"
"Actually, he's not. He served on the Zinnia but had urgent business on Earth and left not too long after we moved to the Polaris. After fixing those problems, he wants to rejoin us and I see no reason why he couldn't. But he technically did leave so he's coming back as a new worker."
"Well, the more the merrier. So, what's the recruit's name?"
"Last name is Position. Apparently, it's one of those new age type name. A counter trend against the norm and what not."
"Didn't ask for an explanation and didn't need to know."
"His first name is Xavier, but he preferred to be called X."
Roslyn paused in mid-bite and looked at Gwen. "So we're leading someone that's called Mr. X. Position around the colony."
"Yes, is there something wrong?"
"Nope, just going to continue eating my snack and let things be."
~
"I'm glad to be serving under you again, Captain."
"Chairman," corrected Gwen.
"Sorry, force of habit," replied the new recruit. "But why are we at a seamstress shop?"
"I had something urgent to do, but didn't want to reschedule our meeting, so you're coming along with us, Mr. Position," Roslyn explained. She pushed open the door to the beautifully decorated store and gave out a loud, but happy greeting. "Hey Mao, sorry we're late, but..."
The former communication officers came out, long hair flowing and dressed in a beautiful and traditional Cheongsam. "There's no need to be so loud, Roslyn." She smiled and greeted the other two. "Hello Gwen, and nice to meet you again, Mr. Position."
The recruit stared dumbstruck at her. "Wait, Mao? As in the..." He shut his mouth when his life started flashing before his eyes.
"No need to be surprised like that. She practically became a different person after she married and settled down."
"Wow, so who's the un..., er, unknowingly lucky man."
Laughing ever so gently, Mao replied. "There's really only one man in my life I would ever marry to. He's..., ah, he can tell you himself, I see him coming in the store now."
"I'm finally home, dear! It's has been a long..."
The recruit opened his mouth, completely in shock. "Oh my god. You're him. The famous Isaac Wilhelm."
"Famous?" Isaac scratched his head in confusion. "Why would I be famous? I'm just a normal transport ship captain."
"Oh come on. You're Isaac, you've punched out a Zaku with your bare hands."
"It's a Zaku, a person with the flu can knock it out with a sneeze."
"You've beaten a Martian in close quarter combat."
"A technicality. If it was an unsanctioned match, he might have won."
"You've survived re-entry into the Earth without a ship or a mobile suit!"
Every single eyes in the room now looked at him for an explanation. "Um..., I'm sure using a loose interpretation of physics, some luck and maybe dipping into quantum mechanics, there lies a perfectly valid reason for how I managed to do that."
"Dear..." Suddenly, the room was deathly quiet as Mao somehow gotten behind Isaac and spoke in a very chilling voice. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing about you surviving this re-entry?"
Isaac slowly turned his head ahead, face devoid of blood. Then he simply collapse and gotten on his knee, forehead touching the ground. In a deep apologetic voice, he spoke, "I'm sorry. I will never hide anything from you every again."
"Dear." She lifted his face up and caressed his cheek. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried." Just as Isaac's face was about to brighten up, she dragged his face close. No word heard what she whispered out, but whatever it is, it made Isaac '100 Zaku Slayer' Wilhelm, passed out.
~
"So, why are we at the local arena?"
"Honestly, you ask alot of question, Mr. X. Position." Roslyn replied rather annoyed.
"Let him ask, otherwise, he'll be confused for the rest of the day." Gwen said. "We're here because one of our friends received some free tickets and we could use some entertainment."
"That and it's nice to do something with your friends once in a while." Mao added. Isaac was visibly shaken, but otherwise fine as he walked alongside Mao.
"Which friend is..." Before he could finished asking, Maria came out of nowhere and gave Roslyn a big hug. Despite some time passing by, Maria somehow remains ever so small and still looks the same.
"Roslyn! You made it."
"Hey there, I'm not as youth as I used to be. Lighten up on the hug there."
"Sorry. But it has been a while, with your work as the chairwoman and me with the farm and the breeding pond. I barely see you anymore."
"Wait, you're a farmer now?"
"Farmer and breeder. I take care of the food grown on the colony and maintain the breeding pond. You might have heard of my famous calamari."
"What happened to your dreams of becoming a Luchador?"
Maria looked away, avoiding any eye contact. "Yeah..., let's just say I had no choice but to quit..."
"But why?"
"If things have changed in the arena, then maybe you won't find out." Maria took a deep breath before clinging to Roslyn's arm. "Well, let's head in then. No sense standing outside while there's a wrestling match to be watched inside."
Just as she pushed open the door, people were heard chanting.
'Hail Maria, full of grace. Our prayers are with you. Blessed art thou among Luchadores, and blessed is the strength in your arms. Holy Maria, Goddess of Wrestling, pray for us weaklings, now and until the hour of our victory. Amen.'
The recruit looked at the deeply disturbed Maria. "Um..., they just recited the Holy Mary in your name..."
"Must be some other Maria."
"Now they're lowering a giant golden bust of your head into the ring."
"That face is so generic, it could be anyone's."
"They're chanting your full name and genuflecting to the bust."
Muttering out softly, "Damnit." She finally lost it and yells out. "Would you stop worshiping me already? I stopped wrestling because of this!"
All the wrestlers and luchadores turned their head and stared in awe. They dropped to their knees, forehead to the ground. "The holy one speaks! We're not worthy of your presence nor your words!"
The group simply sighed, turned around and left.
~
Eating at a restaurant far, far away from the sporting arena, Xavier tried to summarize the time he spent so far on the colony. "Well, that was... an interesting experience. Still, can't believe so much has happened while I was away. A farmer, a chairperson, a housewife, a manly ship captain and a profess... Wait, when did you become a professor?"
Gwen was surprised at the sudden focus on her, but she somehow replied without a pause in her meal. "Let's just say I had my priorities changed during my time here, and I can't focus on being a scientist anymore."
"But you loved being a scientist, what could possibly..."
"Mommy!" A voice cried out from the far side of the room. A little girl hobbled out and made her way toward Gwen. The former scientist smiled and picked her up and placed her on her lap.
"Ah, now I understand. So, who's the lucky man..."
The little girl squirmed out of Gwen's lap and practically leapt over to Roslyn's lap. She cried out, "Mommy!"
While taken aback at first, the first words to come out of Mr. Position's mouth was, "I knew it! That explains..., wait, that makes no sense at all. How..."
The little girl clapped her hands and pointed at Mao, giggling out, "Mommy!"
"Alright, that I saw coming, but that makes even less sense than before."
Finally, the girl went over to Maria and was hugging her legs. "Mommy!"
"Now, you're just playing mind games here."
The four females and the other male gave the recruit a strange look, before a voice from the other side of the room drew their attention. "Ah, Roslyn, Gwen. Sorry about Alice here. She slipped away from me when I wasn't looking. If she caused any trouble for you, I'll apologize. I know my daughter can be quite the handful. Honestly, I should stop her from calling everything mommy, but since she didn't say a word until 2 years old and the first word she said was mommy. I know I shouldn't encourage her, but I'm just so afraid she'll stop speaking altogether."
"Oh no. She's no trouble, and besides, we understand, no need to explain it to us."
The little girl detached herself from Maria's leg and ran over to the woman, playfully repeating the word 'Mommy' over and over again. The woman bowed before carrying the little girl away. That was when they focused their attention back to the recruit again.
Looking rather embarrassed, he tried to explain himself. "Ah, I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry about that outburst before. I mean, really now, you guys have such a great rapport with... Ah, to hell with it. This is going to drive me crazy if I don't ask this, but are you guys..., well, you know."
They stayed quiet for a while before Roslyn spoke first. "Too busy with everything to even think about dating."
"Bi." Gwen responded.
"An exception only for Roslyn." Maria answered honestly.
"Married." Both Isaac and Mao replied at the same time.
Rubbing the temple of his head, Mr. Position replied with a look of disbelief on his face. "That somehow explains everything, yet nothing at the same time..."
~
"It has been a long and strange journey, hasn't it?"
Smiling, Roslyn replied, "Strange is an understatement." The two good friends are the only ones left at the observation deck. Everyone else had said their goodbyes and returned home already.
Laughing gently, Gwen leaned her back onto the glass window. The two didn't spoke a word, but after all this time, they really didn't to open their mouths to say anything to each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen spots an incoming shuttle and turns her head. "More immigrants?"
Roslyn had closed her eye and simply nodded.
"It's always nice to see people coming to join our colony."
Roslyn nodded.
"So, how many are Newtypes?"
"Two."
After a moment of silence, Gwen finally sighs and asks the obvious. "You're never going to tell me which ones are the Newtype, are you?"
Smiling, Roslyn answered, "Nope."
"Honestly, because of you, how could I continue my work as a scientist if you refuse to tell me who's a Newtype and who isn't."
"As if you couldn't ask Maria to find out for you."
"I would, but unfortunately, my stubborn best friend has said she was off-limits. And what kind of friend would I be if I betrayed her trust like that?"
After yet another moment of silence, Roslyn opened her eyes and looked at Gwen. "Thank you."
Looking back at Roslyn, Gwen smiled before giving a friendly punch to Roslyn's arm. "Being friends means never having the need to say thank you."
"Wait, that's not how that line goes."
"It isn't, but I think I'm entitled to be a bit eccentric once in a while." The two grinned at each other before breaking into laughter. Their voices of carefree laughter echoed throughout the colony, but was soon lost amidst the vast amount of noise created from the bustling citizen aboard the colony. For those two, their day is ending, but for the rest of the people aboard Polaris, it is a dawn of yet another peaceful day.
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Threid
Full Member
Tachiagare, GANDAMU!
Posts: 385
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Post by Threid on Oct 10, 2010 19:36:59 GMT -5
Kyle and Nora were married two months after Kyle returned. Though Kyle would have preferred an earlier date, Nora insisted on gathering her rather-large family for a large celebration. The presence of his former commanding officer, Nigel Ferdinand, almost made up for the fact that neither Aurem nor Arieta was in attendance. Nigel said something about their being busy with military business, but assured Kyle and Nora that they were doing very well. Nigel expressed his surprise that Kyle had managed to couple himself with such a wonderful, intelligent woman, and said as much, with his characteristic charm and grace. It was a beautiful wedding.
He spent his first few months as a research assistant to Nora, a position that earned him no small amount of teasing from his wife, until the higher-ups at Anaheim finally took notice of his voracious appetite for the scientific, and his willingness to learn. After a few months of intense training, an impromptu certification process, and a grueling exam, he was made co-chief scientist of the lab Nora headed, a position that he enjoyed thoroughly. He worked in cooperation with some of the solar system's brightest scientists, and together, they pushed the boundary of mobile suit research. He and his wife laid the foundation for the miniaturization of the Minovsky Craft system, and made many advances in beam-based weaponry and defense.
They had two children, Madelaine and Tybalt. His wife thought them excellent names, and Kyle never told him the story of how he was led to choose them. "They are good names - strong names, Nora," was all he ever said, and though his wife suspected, she never pressed him. A few months after their second child was born, Kyle received notice through Nigel that Aurem and Arieta had been killed in a tragic mobile suit accident. Kyle and Nora attended the funeral, and Kyle wondered if all of Aurem's luck had gone to him, after the war. It seemed that even when things quieted down after the war, the two hadn't been able to catch a break. The only bright side that Kyle could see was that neither of them had outlived each other; they had lived together, fought together, and died together. At least they would never know the grief of losing something important to them - a grief that returned from wartime to strike Kyle full in the face, after years of peace.
Their lab was moved to the Moon later that year, and Kyle and his family thrived on the lunar surface. He secretly hoped that their third child - if he could ever convince Nora to have another after the handful that Tybalt was proving to be - would be a Newtype. In space, who could tell what might happen? They watched the conflict between the Titans and AEUG from the safety of their lab and home, not from mobile suit cockpits, and though Kyle sometimes felt the urge to volunteer for prototype flight testing, he suppressed it; he did not want to leave his family without a husband and father. Anyway, the science was too interesting, and he was too involved in his work in the lab to spare any time for flying mobile suits. Instead, he got his civilian pilot's license, and took his wife and children traveling around the moon and the immediate area as often as he could. He wanted them to experience the world as much as he felt he had, to gain perspective.
War had made him hard and cynical, but life with his family brought him closer to the trusting, curious person he had been before. For the rest of his days, Kyle lived a life of active discovery, and the things he found, he found incredibly worthwhile.
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Threid
Full Member
Tachiagare, GANDAMU!
Posts: 385
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Post by Threid on Oct 10, 2010 19:16:36 GMT -5
Kyle stared across the endless leagues of space outside the large sheet of thick, crystal-clear glass that covered the entire wall of the small space cafe. The place was a diamond in the rough, as far as space eateries went, and the owner had poured his life savings into it, along with his life. Everything was top of the line, and the food wasn't half bad either. A collection of Federation and Zeon troops were there, some in small groups, muttering or laughing about the war that they had finished fighting, and other, braver ones sitting in mixed company at large tables, talking amongst themselves, finding out that they were not so different from their fellow men.
Kyle was seated at one of the latter types of tables, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't really taking part in the conversations. Only bits and pieces slipped by his distracted veneer. He was thinking of Nora. Now that the war was over, he could get back to Earth. Now that the war was over, he could get back to his M-particle research. He wondered if Nora's placement in the research facility would allow him to get a leg-up on all the other applicants that would be flooding in. The war had demanded most of Earth's best and brightest to fight for her, and he couldn't imagine many of them staying to fight in the Earth Federation after the war.
Then again, perhaps they would. Kyle would certainly miss piloting a mobile suit. He'd completed his last inspection of the old "Mini Nova Sky" only yesterday. He didn't know if he'd be able to ride back with Orange Base and his mobile suit back to Earth, but he doubted it. He would be a civilian soon, and shuffling the massive throngs of people back to where they wanted to go was only one of the Federation's many problems, post-war. Still, it shouldn't take too long. There were plenty of ships out here, and he knew that the Federation did not intend to keep them all out there for peacekeeping. Some of them would be sent to Earth Orbit, some sent to shipyards for refits, or to be stripped for parts. Maintaining a navy of this size was an expensive endeavor, and the Federation needed every penny to rebuild, now.
He shook his head to clear it. I've been in the military too long, always thinking of the practical things. Even though the war is over, it will be a while before I can think more like a scientist and less like a soldier. He still retained his hard-and-fast method of looking at the world - of taking in facts and making decisions based on those facts, but the inventiveness and curiosity that had characterized his life in the academy had been hammered into discipline and a knack for following orders and set methods. He would have to work back toward his creative self if he wanted to be anything more than a lab monkey doing bench work. He wanted to invent, to push the boundaries of M-particle research - not carry out the hypotheses of others!
He wondered if Nora's lab - Anaheim Electronics, he remembered - had a mobile suit division, and if it did, whether it would be closing down. They'd barely scratched the surface of the M-particle and its potential uses, and he was confident that development of mobile suits would continue, even in peacetime. The military had dominated the area of science for a while, and it would be a while before it found ways to distance itself from it. The funding for military applications for the M-particle, I-field, and megaparticles would continue long after the war was over, he expected, and so would the research. He didn't much feel like starting a facility for potential commercial applications. There was too much red tape: Develop something, wait for it to be placed on a long list of potentially-groundbreaking discoveries in need of extensive testing, and then wait for it to be tested, until one small weakness was found that disqualified it from release to the general public.
He hadn't considered working as a scientist in the military. Sure, those were the waters he'd been swimming in for as long as he could remember, but he was tired of it. He wanted to work somewhere where you might not be reassigned halfway across the solar system, away from your loved ones (loved ones - to think I have a loved one again!), and he did not want to fight men and women who had turned out to be more similar to him than he had ever imagined. Several of the men at the table had girls back home, and were eager to get back to them. Some weren't sure that their families had made it through the war, having not heard from them for several weeks. Kyle wondered if the Zeon communications network had simply been overwhelmed or disrupted, or it there were more sinister forces at work.
Whatever the case, he wished all of them well, and said as much to them, when he was able to push the image of Nora and his vision for the future far enough from his head to concentrate on the present. He had glanced around for Aurem several times since arriving at the bar, but the man wasn't present. Kyle cursed himself for not taking more of an interest in how his friend was doing; he still wasn't used to taking care of others. Still, Aurem was a good guy, and he was sure that he would make it through. He made a note to get in contact with Arieta when he got back to Earth, to pay his respects, if not welcome her back into the world of the conscious. With any luck, he'd meet Aurem there.
With any luck, he'd be back on Earth soon - not soon enough, of course, but soon. Wait for me, Nora. Just a few more weeks. Hope, and wait!
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Post by Cid on Oct 10, 2010 18:07:35 GMT -5
Luminous clouds circled the red planet, making much of the rusty earth less visible from its one sole resource satellite. Terraforming had begun, a dream many Martians had thought impossible. Efforts were in effect to raise global temperatures a mere two degrees, as well as expel greenhouse gasses to fortify a viable atmosphere. Very little was evident at the time, but Martians could feel the change in the air. The government was less than a year old, and it had accomplished so much. The static excitement had been strong since day one, and all Martians, even some of the Tories, could not be discouraged by the various frustrations of nation-building. The planet as a whole was nearing God's vision of Eden, and the masses began to believe it as thus. They were God's children, blessed in every manner of the word, eternal in their Promised Land.
Keller was a man of vision, a walking vestibule of insight and what some could only describe as mechanical brilliance. If he had flaws, they were never on display. Though he was not immune to the occasional overestimation or mistakes, they were few and far between. Even the Tories believe him to be too good to be true and found it bothersome to attack his personality directly. When he spoke, others listened--believed, and, without a doubt, made it reality. Every morning he would stand on the capitol building's terrace and take in the Martian experience. Wherever he was, he was never far away from his people.
Production was booming, diplomatic relations had been initiated, government centers were built, everything was moving, always to the future.
---
Dr. Montgomery had been appointed Surgeon General of Mars, a title he seemed to wear with a slight anxiety. Many of the victorious partisans had been given such ranks within the newly established government, and though they had very little experience, many of them were taking to their new posts with ease. The doctor, on the other hand, was not prevailing as he'd like to. Instead of daily rounds and diagnosis, he was now tasked with sitting in on dull legislative hearings and given the responsibility of setting food, drug, and mine safety guidelines. He knew, deep down, that this work was benefiting millions of Martians, and that he was at the highest level possible to make change. Nevertheless, he was not good at it.
He wanted all packaged foods to have ingredients labeled clearly and visibly, as well as give nutritional facts. But, alas, many of the districts were divided on where and how such a thing would be implemented. Many believed it was up to the distributor to do it, others wanted the manufacturer. Regardless of how much he mitigated, no one could ever agree on anything. Perhaps this was just an aftereffect of democracy. Whatever the case may be, he was not the public speaker Keller was.
Today, the doctor sat in his cramped office (all spaces were cramped, even government spaces--but this was quickly changing), building pencil forts out of assorted number 2's and LLP forms. He had little interest in working. He had been working all day, every day, since the government's forming. Ever since the first stuffy man had been burned on the lawn, he was taking calls, drafting this, and litigating that. He was bored and tired. He would eventually stop his procrastination, but his mind wandered elsewhere, to wherever his old comrades in arms resided. He hadn't the slightest inkling.
---
Clyde looked on to an entire cosmoport filled with Martian-made ships. He had been the one to design them, ultimately, though many great minds from across the Sphere had aided in the Martian technological feat. He was proud of them. The ships themselves were a sight to behold. They'd taken schematics of Federation ships, Zeon, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Information flowed in a stagnant stream to Mars, but it always got there. They'd taken all these things and made them Martian. Their prototype battleship, The Pride of Mars, was the first off the assembly belt. She had scores of mega particle guns and anti-aircraft turrets, drop pods for orbital attacks, interplanetary capabilities, and a belly big enough for their very own mobile suits.
Mobile suits! The thought made Clyde swoon with affection. If he could marry one or all of these new things, he would. He would be Mrs. Phobos-class battleship, or Mr. Crusader mobile suit.
Most people on Mars had never heard of a mobile suit, much less knew that war could be waged on a much larger scale than knife on knife. Already Free Men were being trained to wield these weapons, and if he knew the buggers, they'd have it in no time. Though not of direct Free Men ancestry himself (he was more of a city boy), he knew they were much more than the mere hovel-fire stories. He knew enough not to cross one, even in an unarmed battle. Even if you had an entire bachelor's party worth of friends. They were just mean.
Clyde walked up and down the catwalk, giddy. He'd have to get together with the boys and celebrate to something. He had celebrated every year since he'd been given the privilege of being the head of the military's R&D program. It had been a dream come true, and he wouldn't trade it for an ITC full of whiskey.
---
John Seak was an ex-Lunarian cop, then an ex-private eye. He was then an ex-Lunarian. Now he is all Martian. His department had rallied up some Tories the day previous and given them a good trial. Not one of those kangaroo courts, but something that made the oldest Martian stand in ovation. These Tories hadn't been your run-of-the-muck protesters, they'd been harboring CMC war criminals and plotting to overthrow the government. Though this would've been a big deal in his time on Luna, it was now all a part of wearing the uniform. Seak was now head of national police force, or MNP. He couldn't have picked a more fitting role for him in a fledgling government. He was a good cop, always had been. That is what had led him here, he had been too good. They'd spotted him and eliminated his post he could do any more good. Jokes on them! Instead of policing one beat in a puny Lunar settlement in the Earth Sphere, he was now in charge of keeping law and order on an entire planet!
It felt good and nothing would take it away from him--nothing. He wouldn't let it. That was final. He had the respect he deserved, and they'd have to kill him to take it away. He knew this would never be a problem. Keller was a good man, the government he'd molded a sound one. They saw his talents and gave him free reign. Despite his mechanical prosthesis, despite his love for the drink, he was perfect. No one ever questioned his heritage. They were a nation of immigrants, after all.
Seak strafed the maximum security wing of Amador's detention level. Soon these prisoners would be transported to Stillwater, their one true penal colony, reserved for the nastiest of the nasty. Political saboteurs and extremist were lucky, though. Mars did not have capital punishment in the form of death sentences. Any nation in the Earth Sphere would shoot their traitors, wiped the blood off the wall, and lined more up. But not Mars. They were different.
It was 2000 hours, Seak signaled the guard for lights out. He'd remain her for several more minutes, listening intently passed to the solid steel doors for even more incriminating evidence.
---
The Martian leader had always felt the presence of danger. Ever since his days in the mines, he'd always known if their oxygen was contaminated, or if a spill was about to swallow them up. He'd saved countless this way. He'd saved even more in recent years. No one on Mars knew what a newtype was, and even if the knowledge was known, no one would ever label themselves as one. Newtypes were a Earth Sphere or Jovian Sphere thing. All Martians were unique and required no labels. Keller would never know the extent of his newtype ability, which was all well and good. He would never know its limitations, either. He would never know of the impending disaster.
He relied on his emotions, much as any person does. He knew what was and wasn't. He knew the sky was turning blue and didn't need a window. A day was always dawning on Mars, and he would fight to see every one.
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Post by Ketara on Oct 10, 2010 16:56:44 GMT -5
Phobos Class Cruiser Deimos Class Frigate Crusader Class Mobile Suit Rapture Class Fighter
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thomas
EFF 
Senior Chief Petty Officer
Posts: 327
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Post by thomas on Oct 10, 2010 16:12:11 GMT -5
June 0080-
"You'll be fine, you will, ma'am? I wish you'd let Darlington go with ye'."
Victoria squeezed Peggoty's arm. "I'm a big girl now. I survived the war. Going to Scotland is nothing."
"But it's a wilderness up there!"
"Peggoty, they've got stores, they've got telly, they've got heat and running water--it's a regular place."
"Oh, your father'd never forgive me if anything happened to you!" the old maid sighed, casting a glance at the recently erected memorial to the recently deceased old Baron.
"This is something I have to do. I won't be at peace until I go. It's like... The war won't really be over."
The car to take Victoria to the train station pulled up. Rodney sprang out, all smiles and waving and oohing and aahing over her stomach, now quite large.
"When's the little one due?" he called out.
"Another few months! It won't be long now!"
"But do be careful, Ms. Vicky! You'll come back to us, won't ye'?"
"Of course I will. Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it."
"That's what you and William said before the war!" Peggoty wailed as Victoria walked away.
~
The train went as far as Halkirk and from there, Victoria hired a car to take her the rest of the way to the coast. She spent a night at a bed and breakfast on the beach and in the morning, caught a ferry to Kirkwall on Orkney. She vommitted twice en route, much to the delight of the native Scots who, while sympathetic to expectant mothers, had never quite gotten over their pleasure of seeing the English uncomfortable.
Once on the wharf, she hired a horse and carriage to take her to the Siggurdson residence, which the driver only agreed to reluctantly.
"Ma'am," he said, gesturing to her belly. "Those dragons of children aren't what I'd want around my wife when she were in yer' way but... If you're willin'."
And so they rode, about an hour, out of the town and into the country side, past suburban houses and farms, till they came to a tiny cottage with an ancient stone fence all around it and cows in the yard.
Suddenly, three blonde headed children popped up from behind the fence and hurled a volley of eggs at the driver, all of which hit, before darting inside the cottage.
"Bloody Siggurdsons!" he cursed, wiping egg off his face. Victoria paid him and included a generous tip for the trouble.
Now, she approached the cottage and found herself face to face with a girl about her height, maybe fifteen. She was fashionably dressed--for Kirkwall, at least--and clearly on her way out to meet a boy. She said something in Gaelic and when Victoria didn't reply, switched to the same heavy Scots English Thorvald had always spoken.
"Hullo, ma'am--can I help ye'?"
"This is the Siggurdson residence?"
"'Tis."
"Does Thorvald Siggurdson live here?"
The girl sighed. "Well, he DID... But mum can tell you all 'bout him. He do that?" She pointed to Victoria's belly.
"Er, yes."
"Ha, that's me brother for ye'--well, I'm sorry, we don't got no money and Thorvald ain't been 'roun for five years, maybe. Ye' best go on yer' way, 'fore mum gets ahold 'a you."
"No, you don't understand. I served with your brother. In the war." Victoria caught her breath. "Love, I'm sorry, he's dead."
The girl froze. Victoria could see the confusion, indecision on her face as to what to do next. Finally, she called out: "Mum!"
~
The girl, Rose, cancelled her date and as the oldest, she took care of the little ones--seven in all--while her mother spoke with Victoria.
Mary Siggurdson was a large, hard boned, tired old washerwoman with hands the size of dinner plates that could wring gallons of out soiled linens or crack a chicken's neck with the flick of her meaty wrist. She brought two chairs out doors for them to sit in and a bottle of whisky and glass for herself.
"And how'd he die?" she asked finally. "A scoundrel, no doubt?"
"No, ma'am--a hero. Thorvald, he was one of our finest aces. The Earth Federation owes him a great debt. The Zeeks were terrified of him. Even the Red Comet couldn't beat him."
Mary Siggurdson gave a slight smile, her cheeks flushing with pride, but quickly squashed it.
"Better he's dead now. Can't do no more damage--would've just gone back to thuggery and hooliganism and what after the war."
These words cut Victoria deep--"You don't really believe that, ma'am?"
Mary Siggurdson wouldn't answer her till she'd had a swig of whisky.
"Lord, but you know I don'. What am I supposed to say, ye' bonnie little lass? My boy was a hooligan but he was my wee hooligan and now he's gone. I s'ppose I'd always imagined he'd come home and be a good boy and settle down here..."
"Thorvald wasn't like that."
"Nae. Nor were his father. These Siggurdson men. Don't like rules--can't see the point of them. You don't think they're smart till you realize they've figured every bloody little thing out long before you have. Oh, Thorvald..."
She had another gulp and leaned back on the wall of the cottage.
"Shall I tell the wee ones? Rose, she knows but she's practically a woman now--the others, they only met Thorvald once, twice..."
"Of course you should. They should know about their brother."
Mary gave a hard laugh.
"Of course they should! I should know about my son! But what do I know! Every few years, he'd show up on a motor cycle long enough to get drunk, buy enough fish to last him a year, and ride off! I get a post card from him in Africa, in India, in bleedin' space! I don't even know what my poor lad did the last twenty years o' his life!"
It took Victoria a long time to start to speak.
"Ma'am... I do. Why don't you gather your family together? Maybe Rose and I can fix something for dinner? You relax; I can tell you work too hard as it is."
Mary was too tired now to argue. They went inside and she took up her knitting, ordering the children, ranging from 2 to 13, to stay out of the women's way. Rose and Victoria made dinner and poured out mugs of beer for the older children. They all sat around and Victoria, as the guest, said grace, refrained from saying God Save the Queen, and they began to eat.
After a few minutes, Victoria began to speak--for the tale of Thorvald Siggurdson had to be heard.
~
Mary fixed Victoria a bed by the hearth and they all turned in early, melancholy as they were for having heard described in the greatest detail the exploits of their son, brother, and lover. Victoria found the baby in her gut kicking and rose from her bed, stepping outside so as not to bother the others.
She sat a while on the fence, watching the stars--there were so many of them now that she was away from London--and imagining that Thorvald was still up their, somewhere, floating along and trying to fish.
Suddenly, she heard a noise and the door of the cottage open. Rose Siggurdson crept out but froze when she saw Victoria.
"Oh, just you. Jeeze, scared me half to death, you did."
"Sorry. Is it a boy?"
"Yeah. He still wants to see me. I said I wasn't in the mood. But you know boys, I guess."
Victoria smiled. "I do. Where does he live?"
"Half a mile down the road. Er, but we'll meet in the middle." Victoria could see her blushing in the moonlight. "There's this little lake we like--all surrounded by trees and bushes and off the road. Don't tell mum, yeah?"
"Of course not. Just be back before sunlight, yeah?"
"Sure I will. G'night!" And Rose was off.
~
The next morning, before breakfast, Victoria arose again quite early and set off down the road. She came to the wooded area Rose had described, and was positive she had the right one when she saw two discarded condom wrappers suspended in a bush. She picked her way through the brush and came to the lake--really a pond--and sat down on a log. Thorvald must have come here when he was a boy, she thought, and in her heart, she could hear the song he'd always used to sing:
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.
And now, she sang it quietly to herself:
"Oh ye'll take the high road
And I'll take the low
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye
For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond."
As she came to the last verse, she began to cry:
"Oh the wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring
And in sunshine the waters of sleeping
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho' the world knows not how we are grievin'."
~
January 0087--
"Luther! Come in! You'll catch your death of cold!"
"Aw, Peggoty! I'm fine!" And Luther Thorvaldson, age 6, hurled a snowball at his nanny.
"You come in right this instance!"
After some further negotiation, it was determined that in exchange for coming in out of the cold and for no longer building snowmen around his grandfather's memorial, Luther was be allowed to stay up an extra half hour that night.
As he came into the house and Peggoty fussed over him, stripping off his coat and snow pants and boots, he peaked into the sitting room, where he saw his mother with a tall blonde man who, despite it being cloudy that day, wore large black sunglasses.
"We really appreciate the support, Baroness. I'm sure you can imagine how difficult it is to find funding for an organization like ours."
"It's nothing at all, Captain. I fought for the Federation during the war but these Titans... This isn't what I fought for. It's not what Luther's father died for."
"Where did you serve, Baroness? If you don't mind my asking. I saw some action myself, but on the opposite side, I confess--I hope that doesn't make you indisposed towards me."
Victoria smiled.
"I've buried those grudges long ago, Captain. I served primarily on Orange Base, a Pegasus class, in the last few months of the war."
"Orange Base?" The Captain smiled. "I've never heard of it. The years ravage the mind."
"Yes, you did! Dad made you retreat at New York!" Luther called out. "You couldn't beat both him and Amuro!"
Victoria wrinkled her brow. "Luther, Mummy is having a grown up chat. It's not polite to interrupt."
"But mum, he's fibbing!"
"Kiddo, I didn't do anything nearly that interesting in the war."
"Luther, see if Peggoty will make you a snack." With this, Peggoty grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away.
"Sorry about that--he's been having more outbursts lately. He really hero worships his father."
"Oh, I understand. I lost my own father when I was young." The Captain laughed. "Us men--we spend our whole lives trying to live up to the goals and dreams of our fathers. "
"And women?"
"Women spend their whole lives trying to civilize us."
"That's not very politically correct, Captain Bajina."
"What can I say? I'm old fashioned."
Captaina Bajina stood and gathered his coat. "We are enormously grateful to you, once more, Baroness. If the AEUG is going to muster any sort of opposition to the Titans, we need more supporters like you."
"Whatever I can do for you, Captain. I just can't imagine a world run by the Titans being safe for Luther... You start to think about these things when you have children."
"Yes. Yes, of course." The Captain made to leave but stopped short. "Pardon me for asking, but was Luther born in space?"
"No--he was born here, in fact, in this house." Victoria blushed. "Though, he was conceived in space."
"Ahh. Aha. Just curious--I'm a spacenoid myself, after all. Take care, Baroness."
Just as the Captain was about to leave, he glanced back and saw Luther peeking out from the kitchen. He flashed him a smile. "Take care, Luther--and maybe we'll meet again."
"We won't," Luther called back.
"Luther!" Victoria scowled. "I'm sorry. Good day, Captain."
After Captain Bajina left, Victoria took it upon herself to scold Luther.
"You were very rude to the Captain! He does very good work. I think we should have a talk about manners!"
"Mum, you can't let him drop the klonny on earth!"
"What are you talking about?"
Luther scowled in childish exasperation. "The faeries told me he's gonna drop a klonny on earth if you don't tell him not to! They tried to tell him but he won't listen!"
"Luther, sweetheart, faeries aren't real. I know it's fun to have invisible friends but you have to remember it's just make-believe."
"No, they're not! Marion warned me!"
Victoria froze.
"What did you say?"
"Marion! She was dad's friend and now she's my friend! She told me what Char is gonna' do and you gotta stop him! He's gonna drop a big rock and kill earth!"
Victoria swallowed hard. "Luther... I... It's just make-believe." And before he could argue, she left the kitchen.
Luther looked sullenly down at his peanut butter and herring sandwich.
Don't be sad, hun. I'm plenty real.
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thomas
EFF
Senior Chief Petty Officer
Posts: 327
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Post by thomas on Oct 10, 2010 14:49:50 GMT -5
March, 0080--
"Has it changed much, ma'am?" Victoria's driver asked. She almost didn't hear him at first--she stood very still, clutching at his shoulder and her crutch between the gates of the estate she'd grown up at but which she hadn't seen for--how many years now? Three, at least. The estate where she and William had played on endless summer days and where they'd dressed up for Christmas with mother...
"Yes, quite. It's quite changed, Rodney."
"Well, these things do. Come now, I'll get yer' bags for you, ma'am."
Initially, after Rodney picked her up at the airport, she'd requested he just call her by her rank, if he wanted--for he'd been a Marine himself until a month ago--but once he realized her rank in civil society, he'd taken it upon himself to call her "ma'am," despite being a good twenty years older than her.
Rodney came around with the bags and buzzed at the gates. He exchanged a few words with the guard and the gates swung open. As they trotted in, over the light dusting of snow still clinging to the lawn, a flustered man in a worn sweater came out of the guard's office.
"Now, we're not taking visitors now--it's not the season for it and I--oh, my Lord, Ms. Harris!"
"Darlington, you might still call me Vicky--I've not been away that long, have I?"
Darlington didn't hear her, for he was rushing forward, blubbering, and sweeped Victoria up into his arms.
"Hey, watch the Baroness, mate! She's bloody well injured! You'll do more to her than the bleedin' Zeeks!"
"Oh, Ms. Vicky, we're so glad--I'm so glad--to see you. We were so worried, what after William and we heard you were wounded--oh, it's so good and I--Ms. Vicky, have you put on weight?"
Victoria burst out laughing and ran a hand over her belly, already starting to grow.
"Yes, Darlington--in a way. Yes."
"Oh. Oh."
"It's nothing scary, love--I'll explain once we've got everyone together."
"Yes. Yes, of course, ma'am."
"Here ya' go, mate," Rodney cut in, shifting one of Victoria's suitcases into Darlington's arms.
Together, they trotted down the road and towards the great manor. Rodney let out a long, low whistle once it came into view.
"Lord, but you royals know how to live."
"The Harris family are not royals, sir," Darlington said hotly. "They are merely nobles. A Harris has not married into the royal family for nearly seven hundred years."
"Oh. Well, excuse me, then, Baroness and Cocksucker," Rodney said before shutting his mouth and blushing. Victoria burst out laughing and had to stop so she didn't fall over.
~
"Bernard, who are you bringing in at this time of year? We're not open--Ms. Vicky!"
The plump maid wandering out of the kitchen dropped her feather duster and waddled as quickly as she could over to Victoria, gathering her up in her arms.
"I knew you was coming but I didn't know when and--OH! You's in the family way, isn't ye'?"
Victoria giggled. "Yes, Peggoty, but shhh about it. I want to tell dad myself."
"Oh, he'll be so happy to see ye'! Let me just make sure he's up and I'll bring him out!"
As she bustled out of the room, the men settled Victoria down into an easy chair. Minutes later, Peggoty returned, wheeling her father in--skeletal but still quite conscious and alert.
"Oh, my dear..."
"Dad..." Victoria whispered and now it was her turn to rush up to someone, upsetting the cushions and blankets Rodney and Darlington had carefully arrayed around her. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He lifted with difficulty one thin pale hand to place it behind her head.
"Oh, Victoria... Victoria, Victoria, Victoria..." he whispered, rubbing her head as she wept into his bathrobe. Then, suddenly, he began to laugh.
"Do you see, Peggoty? I told those bastards I'd live to see my daughter come home! Victoria, did you know those sons of bitches looking after me didn't think I'd live out the week? I told those doctors--I'm not going to die till I see my daughter! No, Baron, they said--the fact that you're even conscious now is a miracle! Haha, shows what those dumb fucks know! Never trust a doctor, Victoria, never!"
"The Baron is rather eccentric," Darlington muttered to Rodney.
Victoria was all smiles as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Now, who's gone and ruined you?" the Baron said, pointing one bony finger at her belly.
Victoria took a deep breath. "Another pilot. Thorvald Siggurdson."
"Siggurdson? Thorvald Siggurdson? Sounds an utterly subversive name. Is he some sort of Swede?"
"He was a Scot. Icelandic and Scottish."
"A Highlander?"
"Er, I suppose."
"Good. I've often felt we need more hardy stock in this family! Look at me, love--had I been born a Laird's son, hunting and riding since I was able to walk, do you think I'd be laid up like this? I tell you, the aristocracy is doomed unless we get some Scots and Negroes in the bloodline. Siggurdson is still on duty, I suppose?"
"Er, no, he's not."
"Run off on you, then?"
"He'd never do that."
The Baron understood finally and put his head in his hand.
"This bloody war."
"He was a hero, though--a really amazing hero. One of our best aces. He nearly beat the Red Comet in one-on-one combat once. He was--incredible."
"I would expect no less from you. Peggoty, we'll have a feast tonight--my daughter's come home a war hero and I'm to be a grandfather! Call up my doctors, tell them I won't die till I see my grandson and that I'll pay them to stay away until then! Get all the people from the villages! Tell them fancy dress! Buy beer! Darlington, get all the wine out of the cellar! Victoria can't drink and I won't be alive long enough to finish it all! We'll have a regular old holiday feast! Maybe we could have a maypole or some sort of rural idiocy like that! We can bob for apples and the menfolk will wrestle one another to hide their latent homosexuality! A grand time will be had by all!"
Silence followed the Baron's exclamation.
"Well!" he roared. This did not seem to cause him any great fatigue. "What do I pay you all for? Go! Go!"
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thomas
EFF
Senior Chief Petty Officer
Posts: 327
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Post by thomas on Oct 10, 2010 14:21:21 GMT -5
It was dark in Thorvald’s quarters. He and Baroness Victoria of the House of Harris (Victoria Harris, in short) lay entwined together, listening to one another’s heart beats. Thorvald began to stir and Victoria moaned.
"Again, love?"
"Lass, we may die in..." Thorvald glanced at his alarm clock. "Three hours..."
"Alright, but give me another minute..."
Thorvald waited approximately one minute and then slid his hands around her naked form again.
"Oh, Thorvald, another minute..."
Now they lay together in silence, Thorvald stroking her shoulder.
"You've never told me anything about yourself, Thorvald."
"About me'self?"
"I mean, I know you're from Orkney... Your father is an Icelander... And that's it."
She felt Thorvald stiffen behind her--and not in that way.
"I s'ppose--ain't no one in the world 'cept myself and the faerie what know my whole life story."
Victoria turned over in his arms.
"I want to know."
And so, Thorvald told her--how he'd dropped out of school at fourteen, worked on a ship for two years--he'd learned to curse and drink and fight aboard that dirty little cargo ship. He told her about the long, cold, wet nights with nothing but the radio for company and, of course--the open sea. He told her how he'd always fancied he might meet his father in the course of his voyages but he knew he never would, for his ship was based out of Liverpool and sailed solely to ports on West African coast. He told her about the giant Nigerian dock workers he'd wrestle with for a few extra credits at the end of the day. He told her how his ship had capsized during a storm and he was the only survivor, swimming three miles to Portugal. He couldn't remember how long he'd spent in Portugal, working at a taverna and drinking wine from ten in the morning till two at night, playing soccer with village kids in between.
He told her how he'd met a pretty little girl, only 15, and how she'd gotten in a family way and they were to be married and he was happier than he'd ever been. Only, now, what was her name? Maria? It didn't matter--the baby died, and three months early, and things were never the same. Thorvald bought a motorcycle off the girl's brother one day and rode out of town, never to come back. He rode across Europe, working odd jobs, stealing, fighting, but always free. He ran with a pack of gypsies in Italy and finally got a job working on a boat in Greece. From Greece, he came to Turkey and ended up in a Turkish prison--what for, he didn't remember--for nearly six months before he escaped--and here, he promised, he was not making it up--by constructing a pair of wings out of toilet paper rolls and bed sheets and gliding out of his window to a nearby minaret, from which he dropped down onto a conveniently placed pile of rubbish and only broke three ribs and his ankle.
He hitched out of Turkey and found himself somewhere near Baghdad where he bought an old American army motorcycle off some bellicose Kurdish tribesmen. This bike he drove east, into Pakistan and then to Afghanistan, finding himself in Kandahar at a time when there was little to do but shoot heroin or sell it. Thorvald did the latter and loaded up his bike with dozens of kilos and set off South to New Delhi, to sell to the Feddie troops station at the base there--because, after all, this was before the war and most troops did little but shoot heroin and contract venereal diseases.
How many years did he waste running drugs through Central Asia? No way to know, Thorvald said, but eventually, the Fed Brass decided they weren't going to put up with the drugs flooding their base and stepped up security along the borders. So Thorvald set off to Africa, having traded the last of his heroin for a new bike.
The last three years in Africa were the freest--from the snow capped top of Kilimanjaro to the dusty bush miners in South Africa who would gladly pay for whatever Thorvald would bring them--drugs, food, women, comic books--to the casbahs of Cairo and Casablanca and the dark eyed girls desperate to get out, to ride along with him, if only for a few days. Thorvald contracted with the Federation to run food into famine struck swaths of desert and went tiger hunting in the Congo after some of his best customers were devoured by starving cats. He waded into the jungle, again on contract, to find misplaced explorers and tourists. When he grew bored with a job, he'd simply stop and drive off--as long as he had gas and a little food, he was free, he reasoned.
Then the war began and there was more work than ever--running drugs had never been this profitable before. He sold to the Zeeks and the Feddies. He sold so much that the Zeeks made him an offer he couldn't refuse--work for them or he'd sleep the big sleep.
In the end, the Feds wanted Thorvald more and put him in the Blue Destiny. Then the blurry weeks of war began--MS team after MS team decimated around him while the faerie guided him to victory again and again. He told her of meeting Amuro Ray, of stopping Char Aznable dead in his tracks, of destroying another Zeon test suit, of the folly of New Amsterdam and the odd Inuit boy's dead lover--grim battle field after grim battle field, littered with his war dead.
And so, that brought them to present day.
"Once more into the breach, lass, once more," Thorvald concluded. Victoria stayed silent.
"Once more indeed," she whispered finally, pressing herself against him.
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Post by Ketara on Oct 10, 2010 13:18:02 GMT -5
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Post by Ketara on Oct 10, 2010 13:14:51 GMT -5
Cidgame End
Economy
Mars Side RP: 3,163
Mars Regular RP: 24,900
Mars War Factory RP: 4,500
Mars Side RP Income: 1,350
Mars Regular Income: 3,535
Mars War Factory Income: 400
Diplomacy
EFF - Neutral
Republic of Zeon - Neutral
Colony Management Corps - Hostile
Lunar Management Corps - Neutral
Republic of Riah - Neutral
JDEG - Friendly
Anaheim Electronics - Neutral
Assets
Bases:
Amador City - Urban Underground Fortress + Mine + Spaceport + Trade Center + War Factory
Stillwater - Sealed Arctic Fortress + Mine
New Carson City - Sealed Fortress + Mine
Whitewash - Sealed Fortress + Mine
Jackson - Sealed Fortress + Mine
MO-1
MR-1
MR-2
MR-3
MR-4
MR-5
MR-6
MR-7
MR-8
MR-9
MR-10
Ships:
Lunatics Dream (Modified ITC)
3x Heavy Truck
Pride of Mars (Phobos)
Messiah (Phobos)
Astrolabe (Phobos)
Resolute (Deimos)
Last Supper (Deimos)
Nazarene (Deimos)
Areas Controlled:
Northwestern Hemisphere
Southeastern Hemisphere
Northeastern Hemisphere
Southwestern Hemisphere
Mars Orbit
Arctic
Items Researched:
Working Conditions
Industry: Military Technology
Weapons Research: Space Ships
Ship Technology: Launch Catapults
Ship Technology: Beam Weaponry
Ship Technology: Drop Pods
Ship Technology: Minovsky Particle Field
Ship Technology: Interplanetary Craft
Public Relations
Diplomatic Negotiations: JDEG
Industry: Infrastructure
Blueprint: Space Ship
Industry: Minerals
Diplomacy: JDEG Friendly
Weapons Research - Mobile Suits
MS Technology: Universal
MS Technology: Heat weapons
MS Technology: Hardpoints
MS Technology: Railguns
MS Techology: Sensors
Blueprint: Mobile Suit
Blueprint: Projectile weapon
Industry: Infrastructure II
Terraforming Research
Blueprint: Projectile weapon
Industry: Infrastructure III
Industry: Infrastructure IV
Terraforming I
Blueprint: Space Ship
Weapons Research - Space Fighters
Blueprint: Space Fighter
Blueprints:
Phobos Class Cruiser
Crusader Class MS
Anti-MS Railgun
Crusader Shield
Deimos Class Frigate
Rapture Class Fighter
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Post by Ketara on Oct 10, 2010 13:13:19 GMT -5
Mars Government month 4 progress report.
The period of extreme impetus for the new government has died down, and it has started to work on maintaining the standard of living, which has increased incredibly for all sectors of the Martian surface. Mars' people are now happy, and dreaming of a new and prosperous planet, one with a breathable atmosphere and liquid oceans. While the terraforming process has begun, it will take a generation, as well as a huge portion of Mars' GDP, to finish the project.
Seeing potential profit with the fledgling government, a group of space pirates attacked a Martian defense fleet in orbit, attempting to steal a Phobos class cruiser. While the attack was thwarted, the cruiser, as well as all personnel and mobile suits on board, were destroyed.
Little did the Martians know, that their greatest battle would come soon...
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Post by Ketara on Oct 10, 2010 13:09:52 GMT -5
A JDEG supply fleet stops at Mars, increasing its Helium 3 trade.
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Post by Cid on Oct 10, 2010 13:09:05 GMT -5
TURN 32 OF 32
PURCHASE:
RESEARCH: Blueprint - Space Fighter 500
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