In the darkest stars of the Pleiades, the Diadochi sail to war. Vast fleets vy for the legacy of Alexander the Great, who once held nearly half the stars in his very hands. His untimely death, and the fallout between his generals, was to result in an endless struggle for dominance between interstellar powers. And in the middle was a young, idealistic Lost Colonist, dragged into a crimson heaven that has only known - and desired - death.
This is the tale of Claire Whitney, one of the many faceless masses trapped in a blood-stained cosmos of intrigue and battle. Her oddessy is but one of billions, inscribed in the memory of the heirs to the stars.
OOC: This is probably a bad idea, to start a new story when I have three running elsewhere, but I have this running in my head for a while, so I thought I'd put it up. It's based on a roleplay I ran recently, which died far too soon, but I simply couldn't stop worldbuilding on it.
Since this isn't meant to be a serious speculation of the future (i.e. Future TL, though I'll try to make this as plausible as I can), I'll put this here instead. Constructive comments are welcome, so feel free to comment. :3
Disclaimer: All character likenesses and ship designs belong to their respective owners.
Sweetwater, somewhere in the former United States Midwest
2700 C.E. (approximate)
Space... It feels so empty sometimes. A patchwork of stars dazzling with life and vigour, its sparkles are like messages from the past, beaming towards Earth, like signals in the darkness. Are they trying to tell us they are here? Are they saying we are not alone? In a world as desolate as ours, it is hard to believe we can ever reach out towards it. Once upon a time, we had. But those days are long gone, and it is likely we'll disappear from this lonely universe never knowing the answer.
At least, until the 'answer' came to us.
-Claire Whitney, Day 2920 (8th Birthday)
Sweetwater, the last human settlement on Earth. Long after the Blackest Day blotted out all life, much of what remains had been confined to a mere few square feet. Before, it was a county, then it became a town. Now a small village of barely over fifty, pretty much all hopes of holy salvation had evaporated, replaced by a deep melancholy and despondence that, a few years from now, humanity's long and illustrious history would end here and then.
At least, that was what we believed until now.
Gazing up into the starry skies as a child, I had always wondered what life wonders in the stars above. What strange creatures stalk planets millions of lightyears away; what bizarre and mysterious cultures and peoples wander the stars? Had anyone ventured over our planet, only to dismiss it as a barren waste, and a monument to the folly of its inhabitants? Surely, someone would have noticed, or perhaps, dismissed us as primitives incapable of higher thought. The growing dread and failing crops all seemed like a dark sign, and the long End Times that had plagued our species had proven us unworthy of salvation. But the young child gazing at the myriad stars had not yet given up hope. Perhaps someone would find us.
Perhaps...
"Claire," my weary, bespectacled mother called out, "it's time for dinner."
Dinner. Hard to say what lunch was left in our dire straits. Save for corn, sparse produce and meal foraged from the nearby wilderness, the grim conditions of our existence was exemplified by our meagre diet. We had just lost our last living physician, and soon, the farmers. The ventures of the prophet Joseph Smith and the first Mormons could not compare to this. At least they have civilization to connect to. What do we have?
Ignoring my mother's pleas, I once again tried my hand at the astronomy book to identify the constellations. So far, pretty much nothing matches up to the patterns of the book, almost like a warning of the misjudged passage of time taken. We had long lost track of the years since Christ's birth, and the so-called dates on my diary were telling. But the misaligned stars betrayed a more chilling truth, something my very soul screamed to discover.
"Still stargazing, Claire," my mother spoke again, this time within earshot, "your gruel's going to get cold if you don't head down. The stars will still be there for you."
"The gruel still tastes awful, no matter the temperature, mother," I answered, "I think it can wait."
The wear on my mother's bespectacled face, the result of years of toil in the fields in Father's absence, had worn away her youth far ahead of time. She was my sole parent, schoolteacher, and even friend, when what few kids my age had perished in the last few winters. The whispers of the elders hinted at a grim acceptance of my impending demise. After all, I was the frailest among them. How long did I have until God decided on my short deadline?
"A-are you sure," my mother asked again in an almost fearful tone, "are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I answered in a melancholic voice, "I just need some time alone."
Alone... A... lone?...
Gazing out at the window again, I caught a strange glimmer of stars drifting in the sky. It was like a set of comets cutting into the atmosphere, trails of blazing red heat curling behind like jet engines. But the 'stars' did not vanish, gleaming ever brighter even as the heat trails vanish behind them. No... They did not look like stars. Their lights were artificial, their sheen reflecting the dim night light like mirrors. There was no mistake... something's coming... something unnatural...
"Mom-"
"-look outside!"
Whatever I saw in the sky, the whole town had clearly noticed. Muffled cries filter into the dirt streets as confused residents strayed out in the middle of their dinner. My mother herself was hardly oblivious, urging, "stay inside, sweetie," rushing out to look into the matter. By then, the facades that came from the sky were now close, drifting ominously towards our shantytown.
Looking out onto the empty, wilted field, I saw before me vast, elegant bodies of gold and white. Massive hulks of metal hovering over the bewildered residents like gods, the strange flying machines were unmistakably alien, spaceships from a distant world. I could not comprehend what I had witnessed? Had someone somehow heard us? We had not had or a need for a radio, so recent broadcasts seemed out of the question. But what bothered me more was not the spaceships, but its occupants. Who, or what, were we going to meet? I almost imagined strange grey dwarves with blackened orbs for eyes, crawling out of the ships right now. But such olden-day depictions used saucers for spaceships; these strangers' designs looked more akin to angels.
As the small crowds watch as the gleaming ships descend with their landing gear extended, many, I was sure, had questions. Who were these people? Where were they from? What would they want from a group of sickly, mostly elderly mammalians with little to offer, much less resist? All those thoughts swirled in my mind as I peeked out the window to catch a glimpse of our star-born visitors. But the biggest surprise of all was still to come.
Filing out in hardy, gold-tinted armour, mysterious soldiers with large, futuristic rifles lined the ramp, their faceless mask concealing any clues to their nature. When their leaders emerged to greet the reception, my heart almost skipped a beat. Emerging from the bowels of the spaceship was a bizarre, feline-looking personality dressed in an ornate, black and yellow uniform. But there was a problem with the otherwise mystifying image. He was following someone far less alien in appearance.
"[-you think they'll understand us, Oubaste,]" spoke a dark-haired, tanned human-looking officer in a strange tongue, dressed in the same uniform as the cat-person following him.
"[It is hard to predict deviations from Old Terran languages for Lost Colonies in any case, Sir,]" so said the cat-man, "[though without external influences, it is unlikely to change too much to make them utterly unrecognizable, as was the case for New Nauvoo. At least this one still has some modicum of civility. Worse cases have been found where Lost Colonists have regressed completely into Palaeolithic barbarism.]"
"[Palaeo-what?]"
"[Cavemen, Sir,]" the alien told the man in a firmer voice, as if telling him off, "[countless of which were discovered by Alexander of Pella.Many are usually beyond hope, but those that could be saved make for great shock troopers. No such 'luck' here, I suppose.]"
"[Yes, nothing but old folks and derelict ruins,]" the young officer answered in a nonchalant voice, "[a few months later, and I might have missed out on my promotion.]"
"[Nonsense,]" replied the feline in a sulk, "[you were just lucky to have happened across this one on our descent.]"
"['Lucky',]" declared his partner with a beaming smile, "['divine providence' is how I'd put it; a gift from God for our tireless service to the Pharoah. No Gyptoid fleet has discovered a Lost Colony for three generations. Who are we to refuse His will?]"
"[Yes,]" the aide concluded in a visible sulk, "[I'm sure the Lord might be a tad too generous to us here.]"
Beaming with a wide grin, the commander seemed awfully satisfied, even excited to find us. Was he some kind of explorer? Did he return from some adventure from the abyss of space? Where in the vast universe did he command such a vessel and its crew? His startling lack of worry over the condition of our village spoke volumes as well. I could not help but sense something very amiss with his behaviour, as if he had somewhere to return to, somewhere far less desolate.
"Ahem... Greetings, fair colonists," the stranger declared in English to the mystified crowd in a slightly odd accent, parsing through his lines on a holographic notepad on hand as he dictated his address with halting gusto, "I am Commander (OF-4) Younan Girgis of the Royal Navy of Gyptos, Frontier Survey Fleet! I come bearing great tidings to you, the lost peoples of 'insert-name-here'... Su-weet-wa-ter," he articulated the town's name scrawled on the weather-worn welcome sign, "on behalf of my lord and master, His Most Holy and Royal Majesty, King George III, King-Pharoah of Gyptos, Lord Sovereign of all Maia, Suzerain of Aksum, Suzerain of Kharkedon, Sovereign of Judea, and Lord-Protector of the Church of Alexandria-of-Maia, by the Grace of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit! [I said that right, did I?] I request an audience with your leader, if any stands among you, to deliver our blessings, and our... terms to the good people of this... settlement."
Gyptos? Maia? Terms? For a garbled declaration, there was a lot to unpack for someone who had only seen spaceships for the first time. Indeed, muffled whispers swelled into concern and apprehension, though anger was quick to be dispelled by the show of force. But there was one part of his speech that clued me in, wedged between the pseudo-Biblical places that littered his words. Flipping through my old picture book of constellations, I finally found the star I was looking for.
"Maia," I whispered, tracing my hand over a cluster of stars in the constellation of Taurus, "one of the Pleiades..."
It was then I realize that everything I knew of the world up till now was never what it seemed. A sea of stars teeming with life; a species alone yet thriving in the cosmos. God has heard my prayers, but he had brought with it consequences. These were not just bright stars filled with hope and light, but lamps casting a dark shadow upon a bloody abyss, whispering riddles to draw the unwitting into its labyrinth of secrets...
Sweetwater, somewhere in the former United States Midwest
2700 C.E. (approximate)
Sweetwater Colony, Zoulapin District (Nomós), Fezzan Region (Periphéreia), Kingdom of Gyptos
Zoulapin IV, Zoulapin System, Maia Cluster August 23rd, 6467 C.E. (Gregorian Calendar)/6184 A.M. (Coptic Calendar)
Brigham Young University of New Nauvoo, New Nauvoo Province (Eparchía),Rebu Special District(Nomós), Kurenaike Territory (Periphéreia), Kingdom of Gyptos
New Nauvoo (Auglia VII), Auglia System, Maia Cluster March 16th, 6477 C.E. (Gregorian Calendar)/6194 A.M. (Coptic Calendar)
New Nauvoo, the center of the Mormon diaspora in the Pleiades. Established by Mormon missionaries seeking an independent state outside the control of the American colonial government in Atlas, New Nauvoo has been the cultural and liturgical heart of the Latter Day Saints Church. After the Collapse, which saw the nuclear apocalypse on Terra and the ensuing breakdown of interstellar human civilization, the pioneers who call New Nauvoo and its neighbouring stars home set about the creation of their new homeland, a New Deseret. Rediscovering faster-than-light travel and rebuilding their civilization, the early New Deseret pioneers set about spreading the word of Joseph Smith to the far reaches of the Pleiades. At least, until the Pharoah of Gyptos waged a punitive campaign against the nation-state...
It had been ten years since the golden fleet from the stars came to our little village, and I admit, there was still much I do not understand the worlds around me. Raised with nary a working radio and intermittent lights, I was thrust headfirst into the dazzling world of the heavens. Warp gates, warp drives, spacefaring hulks of which I had never seen... it was overwhelming for me, for all of us. And the rapid growth of our little shanty-town into a massive mining colony only solidified the contrasts. We were cavemen to these strangers, almost like primitive aliens. That our accession into this strange new world carried a veiled threat of disproportionate violence did not help. Not that there was any realistic chance we could have fought back anyway...
As for the nation that had laid claim to our world, Gyptos was but one of several empires throughout the Pleiades. A spacefaring nation built by one of the Diadochi, successors to the now-fragmented Alexandrian Empire, it was a nation founded on the One God, and patron to the successor of the Coptic Church of Alexandria, the Church of Alexandria-of-Maia. Pella, Thraki, Seleukeia... all of them claimed the legacy of the conqueror Alexander of Pella. And the Moussa family of Gyptos, the ruling dynasty descended from one of Alexander's generals, were eager to prove the primacy of their claim, and their legitimacy of rule.
Looking around the vast, sleek skyscrapers of the megalopolis, it was hard to spot any scars from New Nauvoo's own annexation. Massive monorails line the canopy of the city, with homages to the early pioneers and the divine herald Moroni abound. The pearl white facades, paired with a minimum of gold, exudes an almost heavenly feel. That the university campus was situated so high up only completed the illusion.
But also everpresent was the cross crosslet and eagle, symbols of Gyptoid rule over the system and region. The gold-emblazoned banners and a smattering of slender, gold-trimmed domes typical of Gyptoid architecture seem out of place among the angular, Empire-style towers of New Nauvoo. The eye of Horus symbol, emblazoned in front of a police post next to a busy plaza, only added another sense of apprehension from me. It appeared an embodiment of the ethos of the infamous Medjai, the elite Gyptoid police paramilitary.
It was a lot to digest for someone who had spent ten years in a proverbial hole. It was no wonder people call me a cavewoman.
Making my way across the plaza grounds, I try to gauge my location on my holographic screen. Projected from my wristband, it felt almost too handy for comfort. A phone, computer and television set rolled into one, it was hard not to get sucked into it. And there were those who could even receive this information from their implants, right into their brains, an application I dare not take on with my pale, sickly body and adversity to foreign mechanisms wired to my brain.
"...last night, Medjai SWAT teams launched a daring raid on several residences in the suburbs of Provo, apprehending several suspects rumoured to be linked to the New Nauvoo secessionist movement, the Sons of Smith," reported a news anchor on a vast television panel at the front of the plaza, "an assortment of foreign currencies, assault weapons, pistols, munitions, and homemade bombs have been secured from the suspects' homes, slated to coincide with planned attacks on the coming 30th anniversary of the Treaty of Sheshamu, which marks the date of New Deseret's accession to the Kingdom of Gyptos. A local Medjai police spokesman has this to say:
'We assure our fellow citizens of New Nauvoo that no expense is to be spared in ensuring the continued safety and security of the kingdom and its myriad peoples. We urge all residents to help ensure the maintenance of law and order in our society, and report all suspicious activities to the relevant authorities. These so-called liberation movements are but fronts for violent extremists and Seleucid infiltrators to disrupt the daily, peaceful lives of Gyptoids of all races, religions, and creeds. Again, we caution against the spread of falsehoods and propaganda, and ask for all to play their part in ensuring a safe and secure Gyptos.'"
Twiddling my thumbs, I could hear a few whispers within earshot, a couple of housewives muttering skepticism, students grumbling or sighing in resignation. A few words of support, spoken audibly in the Gyptoids' native Coptic tongue, only fed into the derisive looks around me. With my pale skin, dowdy spectacles and unnatural lilac hair and eyes, it was not hard to guess which side of the fence I was supposed to stand on.
I suppose I should worry about more important things...
Dean's Office, Brigham Young University of New Nauvoo, New Nauvoo Province (Eparchía), Rebu Special District (Nomós), Kurenaike Territory (Periphéreia), Kingdom of Gyptos
New Nauvoo (Auglia VII), Auglia System, Maia Cluster March 16th, 6477 C.E. (Gregorian Calendar)/6194 A.M. (Coptic Calendar)
Seated in front of the desk in the dean's office, I felt a bit ill at ease inside, my hands clasped on my lap as I twiddled my thumbs like a nervous child. A rather austere, low-tech setting, the shelves appear stacked with dozens of books, varying with age, from ancient tomes to more modern prints. The ubiquity of the handheld devices had not completely destroyed the need for physical possession of information, though there were not many authors left who would put their words on paper and ink. But the clergy of both the Church of Alexandria-of-Maia and the local Alexandrian Latter Day Saints sect were, by and large, old fashioned, and more than willing to keep the printers in business.
"Claire," declared the mid-aged dean in an apologetic tone, rubbing his pronounced beard, "you do know why I called you here, right?"
"Is it about the 'Colonist Reintegration Scholarship'," I answered, my hands clasping tighter at the idea. To be honest, I had to dig up the information quite a bit to know more. An old scholarship program meant to reintroduce Lost Colonists to spacefaring society, it had naturally fallen into disuse after the lack of applicants in the past seven decades. There were many talks about discontinuing the program altogether, possibly due to its redundancy, but no one appeared to have the time nor effort to put into abolishing it altogether.
At least, that was what I hoped...
"Christ... No wonder they scrapped that one..." the unnerved dean let slip, quite bewildered by my guess, "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. Yes, Claire, as I've just said, I'm afraid that scholarship had just abolished. I suppose your... request finally got the pencil-pushers scrambling to work. I can't say for sure why. It's not like anyone has ever applied for this in seventy-plus years. Wouldn't cost them much to do so. Although... I've gotten some very specific recommendations from the scholarship board to offer you as an alternative. I... doubt you'll be interested in these, but here they are."
Looking over the promotional booklets, it did not take me much to guess what happened with my scholarship. I had really hoped to find something without so many strings attached, and while the funds allotted for the Colonial Reintegration Scholarship was paltry, even when adjusted for inflation, I had hoped it would be enough to supplement my already taxing part-time work. Unfortunately, that appeared to have drawn some... unwanted attention...
DESERETIAN, YOUR KINGDOM NEEDS YOU!
JOIN THE ROYAL ARMY! FIGHT FOR GOD, KING, AND COUNTRY!
__________________
PROTECT OUR STARS! ENLIST IN THE ROYAL NAVY TODAY!
_________________
GUARDING THE HOME FRONT!
BECOME A MEDJAI!
"Dean Riker," I uttered, looking over the bombastic ads of uniformed soldiers and hardware, "aren't these military recruitment ads?"
"Well, the Gyptoid military offers substantial scholarships for officer cadets who sign up," the dean admitted, "but the courses eligible for these scholarships aren't available here at New Nauvoo. You'll need to transfer to a military academy at Souan, Tamiat, or Ne, depending on your branch. I feel that with your current degree on linguistics studies, the Medjai or military intelligence might find job opportunities for you. Of course, there are always... risks to this."
"Dean," I replied, increasingly discomforted by the revelations, "you do know we're at war, right?"
"Of course we're at war," the dean concurred, his voice dampened, as if slightly dismayed, "why do you think the board told me to persuade you with these?"
I really did not want to resort to this. I understood just how hefty the rewards were. A generous grant, an officer's commission, state-sponsored studied throughout one's term of drafted service for ethnicities liable for conscription... It seemed worth taking. But unlike similar initiatives in the city-states in Merope and Merope-influenced systems, Gyptos was a country at war. It had been in intermittent conflict with the rival Seleucid Empire, Pella, and Thraki, the former for the longest time at current. Death was almost a guaranteed risk. How and why we were still at war for so long was beyond me, but I hardly think this had everything to do with national survival.
"Thanks for the recommendations, Dean Riker," I stated, opting to 'put aside' my choice, "I will... give this more thought..."
Nodding in with a smile, the dean appeared relieved to hear my words. Perhaps he too felt burdened with the invisible hand of statecraft prodding me. Concluding his words, he said, "of course, Claire. Take as long as you need to. There's still a whole semester ahead. Don't feel pressured to seize on the scholarships just because you're short on cash. I'm sure we'll find some other accommodations for you."
"I... I hope so..." I simply answered, trying to force my anxiety down, "I'll figure something out."
That, unfortunately, was not as simple as I try to make it out to be.
Corridor, Brigham Young University of New Nauvoo, New Nauvoo Province (Eparchía), Rebu Special District (Nomós), Kurenaike Territory (Periphéreia), Kingdom of Gyptos
New Nauvoo (Auglia VII), Auglia System, Maia Cluster March 16th, 6477 C.E. (Gregorian Calendar)/6194 A.M. (Coptic Calendar)
Walking through the corridors of the university, overlooking the vast city skyline, I could not help but think back at my meeting. I was not blind to sentiments on the ground. Everywhere I look, the face of resignation was written on every Mormon's face. Forced to recognize the primacy of a foreign pope, subjugated by a vastly more powerful nation... these all seemed natural feelings for those who had experienced freedom. But there was a far more material reason for these resentments, in particular, the war with Seleukeia. The city may seem prosperous and tranquil, but the pressures of maintaining the front in Electra was seeping into every aspect of our society. Food and water rationing, an increased presence of military recruiters... That rumours of a planned draft for New Nauvooans and other Mormon worlds exempted from military service were starting to rattle the students was not deaf to me. I was not even sure if refusing the scholarship was going to be any more meaningful if I was going to be drafted anyway...
Looking at a pinned army recruitment ad on the wall, my heart sank at the thought of raising arms to avoid becoming indebted. That everyone seemed to be watching on me for unnatural durations only added to the pressure.
Everyone... watching me...
Staring at the ad, I could not but sense a presence before me. At first, I assumed it was just the person in the ad 'watching' me, an optical illusion common in art. But something else was amiss with the scene, as if the shadow cast by the giant vase beside it had... deformed. There were even flickers of an outline, faint but visible, a thin technicolour lighting barely visible up close. For a moment, it almost felt otherworldly in nature. Of course, in the 'far future' of the 6th millennia, almost everything would seem otherworldly to me.
Reaching out at the poster, I dared not fathom what might happen. My instincts screamed at me to run, and yet, I felt like an unknowing cat, slipping its claws at something it was not meant to. I could feel it in front of my hand, an unearthly warmth growing on my palm. But before I could reach closer, a sudden flicker of lines made me retract my hand swiftly. It was faint still, but I could definitely see it. It was an outline of a hand, flickering into view as it grasped the air where my hand was.
Watching the flickering outline fade away, I felt deeply unnerved by the strange entity. Again, I tried to will myself to run, to feign ignorance, but I feared it might be too late. It knew I had found out its presence. I was sure of it. But I was not prepared for what it would do next.
"Perceptive, aren't you, Ms. Claire?"
I... how?...
Notes
New Nauvoo is one of several worlds (Sweetwater/Zoulapin, among them) colonized by Mormon pioneers during humanity's early years in the Pleiades. While most colonists from North America have set up colonies in Atlas, Pleione, and Merope, Mormon colonists who reject the US colonial government based in Atlas opted to establish themselves in the frontier worlds in Maia, largely inhabited by UN-sponsored colonies reserved for the African Union. Following the Collapse, New Nauvoo became the capital of New Deseret, a Mormon state seeking to reconnect with the scattered colonies of the pioneers while maintaining a peaceful, if tenuous existence with its more powerful neighbours. While New Deseret had largely stayed out of the conflict between Misr and Parthava (predecessor states to Gyptos and Seleukeia) and the conquests by Pella under King Alexander, the rise of Gyptos and friction between Gyptoid and Deseretian missionaries, led to the annexation of New Deseret by the Diadochoi.
