Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2
Posted: 2011-07-25 05:43am
Nueva Cordoba
Estella Real de España
Sector W-14
Unreal Time
The Estella Real de España was once a great empire, a mighty colonial power that stretched throughout the Spin Zone. However, it had declined over the centuries and its place of preeminence had been taken over by the likes of New Anglia and the perfidious French. Today, the Estella Real was but a shadow of its former self, clinging to the traditions of its proud past and the supposed superiority of Españian culture in an effort to deny the fact that its glory days had come and gone, and that it had been since surpassed by its neighbors.
To enter Españia was like travelling back in time, before the 31st century. Galleon ships still plied the space lanes with their wooden hulls and solar sails catching the stellar wind. Its position made the nation a hub for interstellar trade, and so it was decreed that their space galleons were to look as they did centuries ago in order to preserve the image of Españian culture, to show its neighbors the beauty and finesse of all things Españian. Their cities and villages too were constructed to the rustic aesthetic of centuries ago, to preserve the nation's cultural identity, so that the influences of the Francs and the Saxons would not erode their heritage.
This stand-offish attitude towards its neighbors, their inability to accept the changing times, and the massive chip on their collective shoulders led to the Estella Real's estrangement with its neighbors. So, while Españia's cultural anachronisms and exotic sights made it a perfect tourist destination, the nation's bullheadedness and utter refusal to talk to those it considers as uncultured usurpers taking its rightful place as a great colonial power made it the perfect hiding spot for those on the run from the other galactic powers, which the Estella Real didn't care much for anyway. Bah.
Which was why Ethereal Aun'anielt was now in Nueva Cordoba, enjoying the Mediterranean climate that its terraformers had painstakingly recreated throughout the whole planet, and taking in the sights and sounds of Españia. Of course, there was no way these gue'la could hope to match the greatness of old T'au, or even the Enclaves they had built in Nova-Atlantis thanks to the hospitality of those pompous bigheaded post-gue'la (whose only redeeming trait separating them from the rest of the galaxy's groveling gue'la was that they were smart enough to let the Tau grace them with their presence). Except Aun'anielt was not really enjoying the climate, as stuffy as it was, nor the sights or sounds of the primitive natives and their stupid beliefs like Catholicism or their ugly "baroque" architecture or whatever it was. Such inferior specimens were in dire need of the Greater Good, or at least mandatory sterilization, but even the post-gue'la back at Nova-Atlantis were a bunch of hypocrites who got cold feet after they couldn't muster the guts to go all the way. The cowards ended up selling out Aun'anielt's organization just because the rest of the galaxy's gue'la blubbered and whined and couldn't stomach a few nanites. What a bunch of pink-gutted humans.
It sickened Aun'anielt. Those humans were always the cause of all things wrong. They just couldn't conform to order, to the Greater Good. At least there were some of them whose cyber-postbrains weren't malfunctioning, sensible types who at least sympathized with the cause enough to give Aun'anielt a warning. He had managed to escape just in time, right before the raid, and now here he was, on the run and in hiding.
Oh how the mighty have fallen, Aun'anielt thought. He could have fled to Nova Miratia, there were some Tau there, but they were even worse than the gue'la. They renounced the Greater Good, ended up becoming a bunch of stoners and addicts and other useless parasites, the exact opposite of what the Greater Good embodied - the anathema of what the surviving Ethereals had striven to do in Nova-Atlantis. Aun'anielt suspected that the Miratian Tau's Ethereals were impotent, and that they simply couldn't get their pheromone glands to function. Useless and worthless, just like everything else from that damned nation.
Aun'anielt took off his clothes and stroked himself for a while. It was so hard to find female company these days. Unlike his fellows, who had to resort to disgusting human females in their desperation. But Aun'anielt still had his pride left. That was one of the few things he still had. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why there were so few female Ethereals...
After finishing his deed, he decided to get himself cleaned up. He turned on the faucet and waited for the water to accumulate in the tub. Damned primitive human plumbing. If it had been a Nova-Atlantean post-faucet, which was a truly superior design compared to everything else in the rest of the galaxy (save for that of Tau technology), Aun’anielt knew that he wouldn’t have had to wait for so long.
Either way, the tub emitted a ding, signalling that it was filled up and the faucet turned off. Aun’anielt tested the waters with a purple toe, felt that it was just right, and slid inside the bathtub. It felt good, the soothing water washed off the dirt and grime of the human planet along with all the problems plaguing the Ethereal’s so-called mind. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to sleep alone in bed that night, so he decided to sleep in the tub.
A creaking noise woke him from his short nap. At least the primitive wooden floors had that sound-warning function thing, which Nova-Atlantean post-floors did not, at least as far as Aun’anielt knew. The room doors opened, and a shadowy figure walked into the bathroom. Aun’anielt narrowed his eyes. It was definitely a human form, though clothed in black and masked.
He wasn’t surprised by this. He knew why the human had come. It was about time.
“Why have you come here?” Aun’anielt asked. How the human had slipped by his guards, he had no idea. If they were still alive, he still had a chance if he summoned them with his pheromones, but that would take time. He had to distract the assassin, somehow. “Who sent you?”
The assassin gave no response. It simply pulled out its weapon, which Aun’anielt recognized immediately. A Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm. Aun’anielt’s own Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm. The human pointed it at Aun’anielt’s defenseless, naked, bathtubbing form and squeezed the trigger. It didn’t fire. Instead, the passive anti-theft measures activated and the weapon announced that it was being used by an unauthorized user, and then the active anti-theft measures kicked in and -
- and the human assassin tossed the Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm into the bathtub. Aun’anielt would have screamed in horror, but several thousand volts of electricity was coursing through his body, seizing his muscles up and causing his blue form to convulse and flop in the tub like a salmon in water.
The assassin pulled something out from its blacksuit, a gleaming silvery device, and touched it on the water. Aun’anielt felt his mind explode as the pain that coursed through his body was amplified by a million times. The device did more than amplify the pain, as its sensory-feedback somehow began to cause systemic organ failure. By the time the Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm’s active anti-theft measures subsided, Aun’anielt was already dead.
The assassin withdrew the silver device and left the bathroom, and Aun’anielt in the tub with his Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm.
Estella Real de España
Sector W-14
Unreal Time
The Estella Real de España was once a great empire, a mighty colonial power that stretched throughout the Spin Zone. However, it had declined over the centuries and its place of preeminence had been taken over by the likes of New Anglia and the perfidious French. Today, the Estella Real was but a shadow of its former self, clinging to the traditions of its proud past and the supposed superiority of Españian culture in an effort to deny the fact that its glory days had come and gone, and that it had been since surpassed by its neighbors.
To enter Españia was like travelling back in time, before the 31st century. Galleon ships still plied the space lanes with their wooden hulls and solar sails catching the stellar wind. Its position made the nation a hub for interstellar trade, and so it was decreed that their space galleons were to look as they did centuries ago in order to preserve the image of Españian culture, to show its neighbors the beauty and finesse of all things Españian. Their cities and villages too were constructed to the rustic aesthetic of centuries ago, to preserve the nation's cultural identity, so that the influences of the Francs and the Saxons would not erode their heritage.
This stand-offish attitude towards its neighbors, their inability to accept the changing times, and the massive chip on their collective shoulders led to the Estella Real's estrangement with its neighbors. So, while Españia's cultural anachronisms and exotic sights made it a perfect tourist destination, the nation's bullheadedness and utter refusal to talk to those it considers as uncultured usurpers taking its rightful place as a great colonial power made it the perfect hiding spot for those on the run from the other galactic powers, which the Estella Real didn't care much for anyway. Bah.
Which was why Ethereal Aun'anielt was now in Nueva Cordoba, enjoying the Mediterranean climate that its terraformers had painstakingly recreated throughout the whole planet, and taking in the sights and sounds of Españia. Of course, there was no way these gue'la could hope to match the greatness of old T'au, or even the Enclaves they had built in Nova-Atlantis thanks to the hospitality of those pompous bigheaded post-gue'la (whose only redeeming trait separating them from the rest of the galaxy's groveling gue'la was that they were smart enough to let the Tau grace them with their presence). Except Aun'anielt was not really enjoying the climate, as stuffy as it was, nor the sights or sounds of the primitive natives and their stupid beliefs like Catholicism or their ugly "baroque" architecture or whatever it was. Such inferior specimens were in dire need of the Greater Good, or at least mandatory sterilization, but even the post-gue'la back at Nova-Atlantis were a bunch of hypocrites who got cold feet after they couldn't muster the guts to go all the way. The cowards ended up selling out Aun'anielt's organization just because the rest of the galaxy's gue'la blubbered and whined and couldn't stomach a few nanites. What a bunch of pink-gutted humans.
It sickened Aun'anielt. Those humans were always the cause of all things wrong. They just couldn't conform to order, to the Greater Good. At least there were some of them whose cyber-postbrains weren't malfunctioning, sensible types who at least sympathized with the cause enough to give Aun'anielt a warning. He had managed to escape just in time, right before the raid, and now here he was, on the run and in hiding.
Oh how the mighty have fallen, Aun'anielt thought. He could have fled to Nova Miratia, there were some Tau there, but they were even worse than the gue'la. They renounced the Greater Good, ended up becoming a bunch of stoners and addicts and other useless parasites, the exact opposite of what the Greater Good embodied - the anathema of what the surviving Ethereals had striven to do in Nova-Atlantis. Aun'anielt suspected that the Miratian Tau's Ethereals were impotent, and that they simply couldn't get their pheromone glands to function. Useless and worthless, just like everything else from that damned nation.
Aun'anielt took off his clothes and stroked himself for a while. It was so hard to find female company these days. Unlike his fellows, who had to resort to disgusting human females in their desperation. But Aun'anielt still had his pride left. That was one of the few things he still had. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why there were so few female Ethereals...
After finishing his deed, he decided to get himself cleaned up. He turned on the faucet and waited for the water to accumulate in the tub. Damned primitive human plumbing. If it had been a Nova-Atlantean post-faucet, which was a truly superior design compared to everything else in the rest of the galaxy (save for that of Tau technology), Aun’anielt knew that he wouldn’t have had to wait for so long.
Either way, the tub emitted a ding, signalling that it was filled up and the faucet turned off. Aun’anielt tested the waters with a purple toe, felt that it was just right, and slid inside the bathtub. It felt good, the soothing water washed off the dirt and grime of the human planet along with all the problems plaguing the Ethereal’s so-called mind. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to sleep alone in bed that night, so he decided to sleep in the tub.
A creaking noise woke him from his short nap. At least the primitive wooden floors had that sound-warning function thing, which Nova-Atlantean post-floors did not, at least as far as Aun’anielt knew. The room doors opened, and a shadowy figure walked into the bathroom. Aun’anielt narrowed his eyes. It was definitely a human form, though clothed in black and masked.
He wasn’t surprised by this. He knew why the human had come. It was about time.
“Why have you come here?” Aun’anielt asked. How the human had slipped by his guards, he had no idea. If they were still alive, he still had a chance if he summoned them with his pheromones, but that would take time. He had to distract the assassin, somehow. “Who sent you?”
The assassin gave no response. It simply pulled out its weapon, which Aun’anielt recognized immediately. A Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm. Aun’anielt’s own Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm. The human pointed it at Aun’anielt’s defenseless, naked, bathtubbing form and squeezed the trigger. It didn’t fire. Instead, the passive anti-theft measures activated and the weapon announced that it was being used by an unauthorized user, and then the active anti-theft measures kicked in and -
- and the human assassin tossed the Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm into the bathtub. Aun’anielt would have screamed in horror, but several thousand volts of electricity was coursing through his body, seizing his muscles up and causing his blue form to convulse and flop in the tub like a salmon in water.
The assassin pulled something out from its blacksuit, a gleaming silvery device, and touched it on the water. Aun’anielt felt his mind explode as the pain that coursed through his body was amplified by a million times. The device did more than amplify the pain, as its sensory-feedback somehow began to cause systemic organ failure. By the time the Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm’s active anti-theft measures subsided, Aun’anielt was already dead.
The assassin withdrew the silver device and left the bathroom, and Aun’anielt in the tub with his Dawkins/Tsien Militech DS-37 Viper Sidearm.