In the Shadow of the Old Pueblo-Tucson ISOTed to the Bronze Age

[Teen Spirit]

"I was less than a mile away when it happened. News always acts like the even was some big flash of light, some blinding dome. It wasn't. I barely even saw the light; it was so brief you could have blinked and missed it. Of course, I didn't miss what came afterward. The entire city was just...gone, like it had been carved out of the ground and scoped away. The edge of it was one of the most unnerving things I've ever experienced. So perfectly cut; buildings, roads, cars, trees; it didn't matter. All of them had been cut perfectly.

It's funny. Had I decided not to go visit my grandparents that day or just been a little faster traveling back from my grandparents, I wouldn't be here. All I lost was stuff; My family, even my cat were thankfully on the right side of the event. I miss the city certainly; I miss it and the life I had. But I'm beyond grateful that I did not have to share its fate. Better a boring life here than an Interesting one in the unknown."
-Taken from a television interview, five years after the Disappearance

On March 17th ,2019. The City of Tucson, Arizona, along with the Tucson International Airport, South Tucson and some of the surrounding communities such as Valencia West, and the Catalina Foothills, disappeared in a flash of light. In an instant over 800,000 people disappeared. Among them were 40,000 University of Arizona students and thousands of men and women working at Davis-Montham air force base
The disappearance of the Old Pueblo, as the city was nicknamed, dominated the news for months as various scientists from across the world tried and failed to come up with an explanation for the event. Many called it an act of god, but many more asked "Why Tucson?". If this was an act of god, why single out this one relatively city, what made Tucson special? No one could come up with an answer that many found satisfactory.
The event captured people's imagination for generations, with dozens of books, shows, movies, and other forums of media being produced that focused on what might have happened to the city after it disappeared. Ranging from to be abducted by aliens to be deposited into an alternate version of earth where Humans never evolved and intelligent birds dominated Earth.
The economic effects of the disappearance of Tucson were massive. Southern Arizona would see a massive economic depression that would last for decades. The rest of the State and the rest of the United States would be pushed into an economic recession triggered by the panic and confusion caused by the unexplained event. The US Air Force would lose almost every A-10 Thunderbolt it still had, a half dozen groups, over a dozen squadrons and one of its largest boneyards. The loss of Tucson would cause economic, cultural and scientific scars on the country that would last for generations. But the country would recover and ultimately go on much as it had before the event. The same could not be said for the Old Pueblo itself.
/

"What's odd was how peaceful the first few hours were. Internet, cellphones, and almost all TV was down immediately, water followed not long after. But the electricity was still running, mostly. So I guess that was enough to keep people calm for a while. Not me though, I saw what was outside of Tucson. Forests as far as the eye could see, no signs of civilization, nothing that even resembled Arizona. You must understand, nothing today, not Knossos, not Waset, nothing outside of maybe whatever exists in China matches Tucson in size. Nearly a million people in it and it wasn't even close to the largest city in the country, let alone world. But all those people, they need food, constantly; along with water and all other kinds of supplies. Cities consumed ravenously, need thousands of tons of supplies to be brought in daily with almost no respite. And in a moment that city had been completely cut off. The river wasn't flowing again either, we weren't suddenly getting water from natural sources. the city could not sustain itself and now there was nothing. Even with the strictest rationing, the city would be starving in a month, likely dying of thirst weeks before that.

I gathered everyone I knew that I could find at Jessie's apartment, there I explained the situation as best I could. I told them the truth, I told them if we stayed and we didn't somehow return to Arizona, we'd be dead, one way or another we would be dead. We needed to leave within the next 24 hours. In retrospect, I was being dumb. I had no idea there was anything out there, we could have easily starved or died of exposure, but I didn't have the time to consider things like that

We began to plan, to gather needed supplies. Even pooling our resources, we didn't have enough to be comfortable leaving, we would have to steal, take some of what we needed. Some, like Clark, protested strongly. Then we heard the gunshots, a family had shot up a convenience store less than a block from the apartment building. Three people were dead, all for some chips and soda

After that the protests died down. None of us wanted to die, none of us wanted to be monsters either but when it came down to it, survival took priority."
-Queen Rachel Wilson

"Why did I stay? I don't fucking know! I guess, I don't know, I guess we all thought someone would save us. That someone in the government, or the Air Force, or the Police would rally the city together, put a stop to the riots and put some sort of plan into action. But no one every stepped up. The mayor disappeared, City hall was burning, by the third day the police were joining in on the riots. And the Air Force, hah! Those bastards abandoned us! Within weeks the only thing resembling law and order where militias with guns and even those started falling apart. I spent two damn months in that hellscape before I got the sense to get out of there and by then most of the city was burning. Peddling some bike I stole until the damn chain broke."
-Jon Davis, City Guard in the Republic of Troy

"OUR WORLD IS DEAD, GIVE US YOURS!"
Graffiti found on Lion Gate of Mycenae

"I saw the city, yes. I will never see such a wonder again, and I pray I will never again see the likes of the horrors it unleashed. At first; they came in small batches, most walking, some in their machines. They came asking for help, asking for food, asking for answers to why the gods cursed them so, but we did not understand at the time. We pushed them away, most did not want violence. Then more came, not an army but a horde. They did not ask, they simply took. Desperation had reduced them to beasts, but beasts no one could overcome. Nothing them could match their weapons; nothing could even come close. They burned my village until only ash remained remained, as they had done to a dozen other villages, and likely did to a hundred more afterwards. I only survived by hiding in a ditch. Their arrival here was punishment from the gods, for us and for them. For I have seen their city, and I know what they have lost."
- Zullanni, Hittie Merchant, living in Avaris, Lower Egypt.


Author's Note: So I had planned on waiting to post this but I felt good about what I had. So yeah, taking my own stab at an Original Work. My other projects shouldn't be delayed by this, well anymore than they're already experiencing delays. This is my first time doing something like this so I'm nervous but excited.

Regardless this is my take on ISOT story, like Island in the Sea of Time, 1632, or works posted here like Monument to Man's Arrogance, or Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdoof. Those works had a particularly strong influence on this as you might have noticed as I'm using a similar setting from one and a similar place being ISOTed from the other.

But what I want to do here is something I don't think has been really done, at least not as a story I've seen. I want an ISOT where something from our time or close to it, is taken to another period of time and not a virgin earth. But instead of them pulling a Nantucket or Grantville, rallying together and basically turning their their little slice of the country into a mini-America, complete with a new President, things fall apart completely. And Tucson seemed the perfect fit, because it never could pull off anything like Nantucket, it's simply too big and urban. It's people aren't dead though, not all of them at least. It's just now they all have to forge their own destinies, without any central authority to reign them in for better or for worse.

Special thanks to @EBR for inspiring this work and helping me develop it.

Edit: Meant to post this in Weird history, not sure how to move it.

 

[Teen Spirit]

The Exodus

It is a mistake to say there was no organized evacuation of Tucson. While central authority had collapsed early on, many would step up to organize evacuation efforts on their own. Police officer Victoria Paris would rally her family and some thirty other families in and around her neighborhood in Midtown into an ad-hoc caravan that was able to safely pull out of the city despite coming under fire at several points. There was also Jonatán Ferrant, a former Assistant Manger at a sporting goods store, who marched over a hundred people out of South Tucson, their backs loaded with camping supplies.

Tales like these were more the exception than the rule though. In the first months after the event, most who fled the city did so independently, traveling in small groups or even by themselves. People fled the city by cars, by foot, by motorcycles, even on horseback in a couple of cases. People left the city from every side and went in every direction, desperate for food and signs of civilization. Most left without any sort of long term plan, and even those who did knew they had no idea where they were or where they were going.

Problems began immediately after they left the city. Though not fully known at the time the region they had been transported to was western Anatolia, in what would have been the Aegean region in modern Turkey. The area had a Mediterranean woodland biome, similar but far away from the climate they were familiar with. Instead of cacti and mountains they found forests and scrubland. Many cars were abandoned almost immediately, their paths blocked by forests, though many more found a path through. Those on foot fared little better, with the more inexperienced becoming quickly lost and disoriented within the unfamiliar forests, some spending days traveling in circles, barely getting a few miles from the city.

Almost all who fled Tucson would remember the city turning into a charnel house in the final days, people starving to death in the streets while others waged small scale wars over scraps of food. But the area surrounding the city proved no less deadly. "The Field of Bones", as it was known became littered with the blackened remains of burnt forests, rusting hulks that had once been cars, and the scattered bones of thousands of the less fortunate, bleached white by the sun. Quite simply most didn't have the resources to make it very far. The average survivor only had enough food and water for maybe a week per person and enough gas to get them a couple hundred miles in ideal road conditions, which these weren't. Thousands died each day in the early months, from thirst, starvation, exposure, disease and violence.

Most who survived those terrible days realized they weren't going to make it for long on their own. Survivors began to pool resources, forming ad-hoc campgrounds and motor parks out in the scrublands. Some fell apart immediately as survivors decided to settle grudges new and old with violence. Some decided to return to city, figuring that together they would be able to push one of out one of the gangs and take control of one of the larger food stockpiles. Many of these bands went on to become gangs such as the "Sons of the Bear" and the "Tucson Department of Mayhem" that would plague the region for years afterwards. Most realized though that there was no going back, the only way to survive was to keep moving. Many who would become leaders in the world to come would emerge from the masses around this time, taking control of the caravans and refugees through charisma and sheer force of will, some becoming Kings and Queens in all but name, ruling their ragged groups with an iron fist.

It was around this time some of the survivors began encountering some of the locals. The first encounter was between a lost teenager girl who had become separated from her family and had run into a small farming village loosely connected to the Arzawa Federation. The girl chanced upon a local boy roughly her own age near the edge of a field. The two stared at each other for a while before the girl got nervous and ran away. This would only be the first of many cross-cultural interactions. Some survivors simply traded trinkets and spare clothes for food, a few solo and single family groups stayed at the first or second village they could find, slowly trying to integrate themselves into their strange new surroundings. Most encounters however, would be violent.

By the time most survivors encountered any substantial native Anatolian settlements, they were on the verge of, if not outright suffering from, starvation. Many more were ravaged by diseases brought about by the poor hygiene and incredibly harsh living. For people largely used to a life of relative comfort and stability, the post-ISOT struggle had been the harshest experience of their lives. The survivors were tired, hungry, and out of patience. To make matters worse there was a strong language barrier. English and Spanish were the most common languages among the refugees, while the villages they came across spoke a variety of Anatolian languages such as Lydian, Nesite, and Lycian. No one among the survivors had any understanding of their spoken languages (which had gone extinct during the Hellenization of Anatolia over two thousand years ago in their own time) and only a tiny few had any knowledge of cuneiform. Communication beyond the most basics was all but impossible as many of the survivors simply lacked the time to try to make themselves understood. To further complicate things, though the effects of the the ISOT had transported the survivors near harvest time for the region, most places simply lacked the amount of food needed to feed themselves and the survivors. A better than average harvest mildly eased the situation, but nowhere near enough. A grim reality set in across much of western Anatolia, there was enough food for the survivors or the locals, but not both. Exhausted, desperate, starved and boiling with frustration at a situation that made increasingly less sense to them by the day, the survivors lashed out.

The months that followed were among the bloodiest the region had ever seen as many survivor groups pillaged almost every town and village they could find. The survivors were disorganized, starved and most lacked anything resembling discipline, but they were armed, some better prepared groups carrying hundreds of guns with thousands of rounds of ammunition. A few had even taken to arming and armoring what vehicles they had left. The results took the bronze age civilizations they encountered completely off guard. The entire Arzawa civilization died in a manner of weeks as the more bloodthirsty and desperate survivors rampaged all the way south and west until they saw coastline. The Arzawa capital of Apasa was sacked, its population butchered, and the few survivors forced into slavery. Similar events occurred across the region as even fortified cities were put to siege and sacked by the more resourceful and clever groups of survivors. In the end, even the legendary city of Troy would not be spared.

 

[Teen Spirit]

"I do not speak of that day because there is nothing to be said. We had no other options, we where starved and near madness. What else should we had done? The Fall of Troy was tragic yes, but no more tragic then an entire convoy starving outside their walls would have been. We did what we had to, no more, no less."
-Queen Rachel Wilson

"I saw no gods that day, only trucks. The Iliad is so much less interesting when you're living it."
- Councilwoman Clara Agramonte of the Trojan Council.

The Fall of Troy

Lucas Grey had never intended to travel far. The former bank manager had only to intended to lead his convoy to the first village large enough to sustain them, bribe those living there to leave, and set up some sort of community; reality though had proven far more frustrating than he expected. The Grey convoy as it came to be know was better organized refugee groups in the early days. The group was formed out an alliance of two major and several minor refugee columns that had fled the city, with leadership being shared between him and a police officer Victoria Paris, with a young Anthropology/Archaeology Student named Rachel Wilson acting as a junior partner in their Triumvirate. Grey was in charge of getting the convoy somewhere while Paris and Wilson worked to keep the convoy coherent and organized. The convoy had a large stockpile of food, medicine, water, guns and even a decent sized motor pool. All these supplies, combined with their rather large size did create one massive disadvantage, it was slow. Tight rationing further slowed them down as much of the convoy lacked the energy to travel for long periods of time.

This lead to group coming upon village after village, only to find it completely stripped of all food or already being occupied by another group of refugees. While most refugees were sympathetic and willing to trade to a limited extent, there wasn't enough food to go around and Grey was uneasy about using their limited ammunition on fellow Americans unless forced. With no other options, Grey pushed further and further west, hoping he would find any village or town not claimed by another survivor group.

After months of travel the convoy was nearing it's limit. Food was nearly out, medicine was all but gone and they had maybe four days worth of fuel left for their increasingly shrinking motor pool. More problematic than that was the mood within the convoy, many were on the edge of madness. Their lives had been thrown into complete chaos and survival seemed increasingly unlikely, and no one had any explanation for why this was happening. The past few months didn't seem like the actions of a vengeful god but of one that had utterly lost it's mind. Many fell into despair, a few dying from it in one way or another. Others began to form strange cults within the convoy, preaching heterodox variants of Christianity and Islam alongside twisted versions of various pagan and new age faiths. These faiths proved problematic as many would be preachers encouraged their flocks to attack and harass anyone they saw as a heretic, which was usually anyone who disagreed with them or had things they wanted. On several occasions brute force had to be used from keeping the convoy from turning into a full scale riot. Something had to change and soon. That's when scouts came back with word of a settlement on the horizon.

The scouts came back with news of a walled town, near the sea with plenty of farms around it and control over what appeared to be a fairly large road. It was the largest settlement they had encountered and from what they could tell, it was still control by the indigenous population. The walls were a problem though, the outer works were over two stories tall, made of stone and dotted with guard towers. And within the city was a huge citadel with walls twice as high as the the outer walls. They had guns but limited explosives, and any fire risk damaging needed food supplies.

Rachel Wilson stepped forward. By now the college student was certain they had somehow ended up in the Bronze age, many of the tools and weapons they found had made that clear, and she had firm suspicion of where they were but no solid proof yet. She argued that conquering the city might be too hard for an unorganized force like them. Instead she argued to Paris and Grey that they should trade with them. Give them "trinkets, silverware, and bandages" in exchange for food, temporary housing, boats and experienced sailors. She argued that with boats they could find better areas to colonize and more importantly, people who had enough food to trade to get them through the next year. Grey was uneasy about the prospect of both splitting the group and leaving any of 'his' people under the rule of some primitive king. Paris objected strongly, citing the language barrier and the other attacks by every other refugee group. She argued that even if they could communicate with these people to get across what they needed, it was highly unlikely they would accept any sort of trade deal if they knew about what the other Americans had been doing, why trade with people who's fellow countrymen are slaughtering yours after all? And all a failed negotiation would accomplish is giving these people more time to prepare for an attack. Paris argued the only way to stay alive was to attack first and attack hard. Wilson hesitantly agreed, as did Grey after a stiff drink.

Paris was right to an extent. Troy; known as Wilusa by the locals, had heard tale of strange attacks to the east and they were afraid. At the time Wilusa was a rather unhappy tributary of the Arzawa. So news of their destruction brought little in the way of hate. What concerned the ruling King was how the Arzawa fell. Mumerous merchants came to the city, speaking vividly of hordes controlling living fire, riding beasts of pure metal and wielding swords forged from starlight. Of course most of these merchants had never seen the Americans, only hearing about them third or fourth hand. But even those who had actually survived encounters with the refugees spoke of such impossible things that anything seem believable. The Wilusa army was small but well trained; in part because of Arzawa demands but largely because Wilusa focused more on protecting it's trade routes than anything. The king increased patrols and conscripted some of the stronger men into the army while ordering the harvest to be gathered as quick as possible. He hoped that would be enough to protect them from whatever would come.

Grey's convoy had guns and ammo but little training. While there were a number of police officers, guard reservists and even soldiers among the group; such as Rachel Wilson's girlfriend, Specialist Jessica Kilpatrick. Most among the convoy had either never fired a shot or had only ever done so at a range or while hunting. Trigger discipline was going to be next to non-existent and tactics were going to be a haphazard affair at best. This was a dangerous gamble and Grey knew it. Even if they won they could still starve if the city's food was destroyed in the fighting. But as far as Grey and the others were concerned, they had no other option.

Wilusa had barely an hour to prepare for the fight, the convoy managing to kill or capture almost scout that stumbled across them. The King withdrew everyone he could within the city walls and prepared for a siege.

The attack began with three motorbikes and four trucks barreling towards the city at high speed, blaring music as loud as they could. The vehicles circled they city, passengers in the trucks firing at the warriors stationed along the wall. Most shots went wild, entire magazines and clips were wasted. But some hit true, ripping easily through leather armor and bronze helmets. The attack was having it's intended effect, morale dropped rapidly among the warriors of Wilusa, some were already breaking. Then came the second wave.

Three trucks approached the city, two simply had covered truck beds but the third, Grey's own personal truck, had been armored with scrap and the parts from several cannibalized vehicles, turning it into a crude battering ram. It's driver, Grey's brother-in-law, was padded and wore a helmet. The other two parked as the Ram slammed into gate, smashing through it. The driver was only barely able to pull the truck out of the way before it died completely, smoke pouring out it's hood.

The other vehicles ceased circling and parked near the gate, grabbing shotguns and pistols out of the other two trucks. Those couple dozen men and women then pushed into the city itself and formed a semi-circle around the entrance, firing at anyone who came near. One or two wondered off, chasing after enemies only to be cut down when they ran out of ammo. A few more fell to arrows, but the line held. Then came the third wave, the horde.

Almost every man and woman that was healthy enough and could be trusted enough was given a weapon; rifles, pistols, knives, crossbows, brass knuckles, even a few bronze spears and farm tools taken from the burned remains of villages they passed; and then sent at the enemy. Some panicked and backed out immediately, but joined in the attack. The group rushed into the city like a flood, some accidentally trampling their own in the process. It was a slaughter, almost every man and woman found was killed on the spot, and children fared little better. The resulting massacre was nothing short of horrific, the streets in some areas ran with rivers of blood. But it achieved it's goal, soon there was no resistance within the outer city. All that remained was citadel, home of the royal palace.

With the ram completely totaled, the survivors began preparing alternate methods to bring down the inner gates. Molotov cocktails were brought out and crude ladders were assembled. This turned out not to be needed as the survivors soon watched in confusion a richly dressed body fly out of one of the towers and crash on the ground below. This turned out to be the body of the king, shortly thereafter one of the gates opened, revealing dozens of warriors and nobles on their knees, a pile of spears and swords in front of them.

This had been a desperate gamble, the nobles and priests of the city had heard of the depravity of these strange beasts who looked like men, but they also heard they could not be beaten. They hoped and prayed that if they surrendered they might be spared. The King had objected, but was forcibly overruled. Even with a lack of mutual language, the signs of a surrender were clear to the Americans. So a battered and bruised Grey accepted and had the nobles escorted back to their quarters were they would remain for the time being. The city was theirs, though it would take them a while to fully understand it, they had conquered Troy in the span of a few hours.

The night was an awkward one for the survivors; some grieved over what they had done, many more celebrated while others focused on moving what belongings they still had into their new homes. Paris tried her best to restore order and began taking account for what this city had while Wilson explored the city with guards, trying to put a solid date and location on their new home. Grey, for his part sat in one of the empty noble apartments, having dinner with his family. near silent as he struggled his feelings over the day's events, gripped by both shame and a strange form of pride. But he knew harder times were ahead; he had taken a city, now he had to figure out how it was going to be ruled.

 

[Teen Spirit]

Wilson I

Rachel Wilson starred at the jug, the small room she was lit by the dim light of early morning coming in through an opening in the ceiling. It was large vessel clearly used to serve wine or something of that nature at parties or rituals. With stylized marine and plant life painted in white and orange across a black background. She knew what kind of pottery it was, she'd seen pictures of it's like plenty of times a few months ago in class. This was Kamares ware, a kind of Minoan pottery. This jug was over three thousand years old compared to her and yet it looked practically brand new.

This was hardly the first pot she'd looked at in the week and half since they took the city. She'd seen dozens of artifacts, jugs, bowls, cups, ingots, even a few murals. But there was something different about this one, something that made it finally feel real instead of some strange fever dream.

"That pot giving you trouble?" Jessica asked sleepily, pulling herself out of the sleeping bag they shared. Their living quarters right now once belonged to one of the nobles who had fallen during the battle, stripped of his old things and replaced with what few personal effects the woman still had. A small desk with a stool had become Wilson's main work space when she wasn't out exploring the city.

"We're at the dawn of history." Rachel half muttered

"Pardon?" Jessica questioned

"Well, metaphorically speaking of course." Rachel said with a smile "Egypt still has a thousand years or so on us. But still, we're in the middle of the Bronze Age. We're before all but the oldest dynasties in China. Rome has not yet been founded, Plato is still a thousand years away and Athens is probably still being built. Most of known human history is before us."

"So you're saying we might have actually just gone through a redneck version of the Iliad? " Jessica replied jokingly

"Maybe." Rachel shrugged. She'd been speculating this was Troy since almost the moment they saw it. Trade goods certainly fit the region near as she could tell, but her knowledge of Anatolia in this age was weak at best. Cuneiform seemed to be commonly used, and local culture certainly wasn't Minoan or Mycenaean. But they did trade with them.

If this was Troy then it meant the past week had done more damage to the city than Heinrich Schliemann could have ever dreamed of. The though darkened Rachel's mind until she reminded herself this wasn't archaeological site, it was a city, a living breathing city. The jug before her was just one of likely hundreds that existed at this time, maybe even thousands. The Minoans, the Mycenaeans, the Hitties; they're weren't just names in books that tied together various artifacts and archaeological sites. They were political entities that they would have to deal with.

Rachel sighed as she leaned back against the wall. She hated this, however much seeing history like this excited her, she hated this. She wanted to be back in her apartment, on her computer having to worry about homework. But that life, who she was before this, that was all gone now. Everyone who had been able to get out of the city with her had done things they could have never imagined doing just to survive. Every single American living in Troy had the blood of thousands on their hands. There was no changing that, there was only looking ahead. And ahead of them was a world of possibilities.
/
Wilson found Grey and Paris in the Royal Palace's main dining hall, which now served as the main headquarters for their new pseudo-state. Grey had hoped to use anything else for their capital but he couldn't deny how safe and defensible the citadel was, once they had removed the nobles and sectioned them off in another part of the city of course. The scavenged seats ripped from cars and trucks stood in stark contrast to the walls lined with richly painted images of bulls, deer and past kings. The three them made an interesting sight. Grey with baseball cap, t-shirt and jeans; making him look like a dad on the weekend than any sort of leader. Paris with her tight bun of black hair and an increasing ragged police uniform. And herself, a thin mousy looking college student. Blonde hair held in a ponytail while wearing a dirty collared shirt and dark jeans; like she was going out to dig site instead of advising how to run a city. But that was state of things these days.

"So you think you know when we are?" Paris said with a mix of interest and skepticism

"Roughly." Rachel said flatly "I'm not going to say anything with certainty. Considering the pottery, the kind of oxhide looking copper ingots we discovered and those Linear A seals we found with those merchants I'd place us right around 1600 BCE. Again purely an estimate but I honestly don't think I'm going to get much more accurate than that unless I stumble across a very recent inscription mentioning an Egyptian Pharaoh."

Was that date a guess? Without a doubt, but it was a good guess in her opinion.

Grey raised an eyebrow "You can tell what time period it is based on the pottery?"

Rachel nodded "Certainly, it's good way of dating almost any archaeological site in any culture. I'm not familiar with many but we got lucky, I was studying this type of pottery in February for a class."

There was something decidedly ironic about being sent to a time period she had recently had an entire class on. It was helpful considering most of the knowledge was still relatively fresh in her mind but enraging considering what being sent this far back had done to them.

"Can those seals tell us anything about the date?" Grey asked

"Probably not. Even if we manage to make a translation of them and that's going to take sometime considering we have to figure out how to teach English to those merchants we picked up at docks, it's highly likely any dating system they have is completely divorced from any we know. And that's assuming any of the seals even have dates on them to begin with."

"Your class didn't cover translations yet?" Paris asked.

Wilson had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Paris had a completely different background then her, different education and different strengths. "There are no translations of Linear A beyond a few basic words. It's an undeciphered language."

Admittedly possibly being of the first archaeologists to have a translation of Linear A did give make her a bit giddy on the inside. Shame it didn't matter one bit beyond practical matters.

"What does this mean for us?" Grey was growing impatient

"We're a good four hundred years or so from the Bronze Age Collapse, assuming we don't trigger it early which we probably won't. Which is good because being trapped in a regional dark age would make an already bad situation so much worse. Politically, Minoans are in a strong point in their neopalatial period, unless that one island erupted already in which case they're on the mend I'd imagine. Mycenaean Greece is just starting to be a thing. The Hitties are forming an empire in Anatolia, though we've probably completely wrecked that. Assur rules the old Assyrian Empire and what would be Iraq is ruled by Babylon. Egypt is either at the start of the New Kingdom phase or sometime before that, not really sure. Beyond that there's a number of cultures spread throughout Europe, don't know much about them and they're not directly important at the moment. What's important is we find ourselves in a fairly decent position, there's no major empires threatening us and the Minoans should be more than open to trade."

"You want to trade with these savages?" Grey scoffed. Paris shot him a dirty look over his choice of words.

"Well, yeah. We need to." Rachel replied "We need to normalize ourselves with the neighbors, show them we're just another faction not demons from hell. More to that we need access to food, resources, access to minerals. We need to start thinking about the futur- "

"We have enough food." Grey interrupted "We have enough here to keep us alive. I don't want to risk anymore lives when we're safe enough as it is"

"For now." Rachel said bluntly as she pinched her nose, angered by the interruption "We have enough food with rationing, and rationing is going to leave people unhappy. Beyond that, ammo will run out, electronics will break down. Almost everything we have, everything that makes us strong is only going to last for so long and we need to find ways to replace them, that takes resources and materials we don't have. I know it's only been a week. I know other things take priority first but we can't just sit on our butts and act like these walls will protect us, they didn't protect the people who built it after all. We need to prepare for the future if we want to keep ourselves alive."

"We can't sit here and pretend that the feds are going to come and save us." Paris trailed off for a moment, muttering something in Spanish "America's gone. We have a good town here with both access to the sea and plenty of farms, sooner or later someone is going to come for what we have, and I'd like for us to remain standing when that happens. That means we need more than we have now. I'd prefer to focus on scavenging Tucson than trading with these Greeks but that's going to require guns and I don't want to leave Troy undefended."

Grey looked around, releasing he was alone in his opinions.

"What do you want to do?" He asked with a indignant sigh.

Wilson stood up, placing her hands on the course wooden table as she spoke "Once we're conversational with at least one of the merchants and some of the locals. I and a few of my friends will ride with them to whoever they trade with, ideally Crete if I'm right about where we are. There we bring some of things I talked about last time. Stuff that's pretty and impressive to them but won't hurt us to lose, things like steel silverware, jewels, and glass. Ideally that will get us valuables in return like spices, olives, fruit, metals and such. But mostly I just want to make sure whatever trade the Trojans had going at the very least keeps going. With luck we'll impress upon them how much more advanced we are and they'll be plenty eager to make whatever trade deals we want with them. We have massive advantages here but they're almost all time limited. We should use them while we still have them."

"Just one boat?" Grey asked

"For now." Wilson nodded

"That's...reasonable." He replied hesitantly "If you want to make contact with these people be my guest. Just use caution. Now next on the agenda, Victoria I believe you had more thoughts on establishing a police force for the city."
/
Author's note: So there's generally going to be two kinds of updates. The more conventional ones we've seen up until now that will generally have a more broad look at some general and specific events, various nations, government types, specific political movements, various religions and things like that. And Story updates that will prove a closer more on the ground level look at various factions and people. As you might have guessed, Rachel Wilson is going to be an important player in events to come and I wanted to flesh out her character. She won't be the only one I look at though.

 

[Teen Spirit]

"The days after we arrived were a not a crime but a reforging. The weakness of old america were washed away with the blood of those who dared to oppose us."
- Clara Martìnez, Citizen of New Sparta

The End of the First Wave

The worst was over within six months of the event. Most refugees had settled or had perished in the wild, and though many groups still roamed Western Anatolia, these were largely small bands who lacked the strength to attack any substantial villages and towns. Of course by this point most of the villages and towns were populated by fellow refugees more than able to defend themselves.

The effect of the Tucson Migration upon the people of western Anatolia was nothing short of apocalyptic. Tens of thousands of those native to the region were killed, enslaved, or displaced. Several cultures such as the Assuwa were basically wiped out overnight, the enslaved survivors forcibly assimilated into Tucsonian settlements. Culturally the region was now overwhelmingly American.

In the north-western parts Anatolia, only a few hardy American individuals and small groups reached the borders of the Kingdom of the Hattusa, commonly known as the Hittite Empire. Most of these disappeared into one of the kingdom's cities or were wiped out vengeful mobs, but a different and much larger group of refugees did stream over the border in large numbers. Most of this group was culturally Hittite if not directly related to the inhabitants of Hattusa. These Hittite refugees brought with them tales of destruction and carnage that made even the most bloodthirsty warrior turn pale in horror. King Labarna made plans to conquer the savages they described but, his plans never came to fruition as Labarna and many others within the Kingdom soon succumbed to the unexpected passengers many of the Hittite refugees brought with them. Hattusa quickly found itself devastated by numerous epidemics as diseases that wouldn't have existed for thousands of years ravaged the unprepared Hittites.

The former citizens of Tucson knew little of what the Hittites were suffering, most of them in those days focused inward, desperately trying to collect and process their stolen harvests. This effort was hampered by lack of tools, with many resorting to the stone and copper implements left by the former inhabitants. Adapting to farming and even cooking with such primitive tools proved more challenging than many expected, and more than one village failed because of struggles with the first harvest.

The mood in most survivor villages and towns was almost catastrophically grim. For many the weight of what they had done far outstripped what they had acquired. They had butchered thousands just to spend the next few months living on scraps while doing back-breaking labor in the fields. The first winter was a bitter one and many wondered if any of the villages would survive. Fortunately most did, and by spring the earliest post-event American governments began to take shape. The first and most notable of these was New America, which quickly rose to become one of the first major powers in the region, but fell almost as quickly.

 

[Teen Spirit]

"New America was lesson, albeit a painful one. It taught us that we couldn't just restore what we lost. That whatever we built was had to be different in some manner if it was to survive. It also taught us how damaged we had become."
- General Mark Wilson, New Tucson Republic

The Rise and Fall of New America

New America was the first truly organized governing body to come out the fall of Tucson. Every refugee group that made it past the Field of Bones had some sort of leadership, but this was often informal and ranged from lone strong men (and women) who ruled with an iron fist, to duos, triumvirates and councils. Many of these de-facto governments would keep hold of their leadership once they transitioned to village life, but New America is was the first declare itself a new nation with state institutions, even if it still flew the old flag.

New America started in Fordville. Fordville was founded by one Jon Ross and was one of the new villages, built from numerous tents, the remains of dozens of cars and even a few helicopters that had escaped Tucson International Airport and the Airbase. To most Jon Ross was everything one could want in a leader; charismatic, ex-Army, kind but firm, and intelligent. Fordville quickly gained strength as it used its military strength to forge alliances with neighboring towns and villages, promising mutual aid in both defense and supply. A few daring trips back to Tucson further increased Fordville's power as they acquired weapons, material, animal feed, seed potatoes and farming equipment. With advice from two Air Force officers and several friends, both new and old, Ross declared the birth of New America less than eight months after the event.

His intention was simple, to restore the United States of America to the greatest extent that he could under the circumstances. While he acknowledged the flaws of his old country, Ross firmly believed that a New America would bring with it a needed return to normalcy for the people. For the first five years all seemed fine, New America grew by leaps and bounds as more and more villages and towns signed up. Interim Majority Speaker Ross and his new government were rather loose in their demands, only asking for contributions to the Federal Militia and a percent of every harvest to be distributed to less well off villages and stockpiled in Fordville. Beyond those, Ross kept the constitution intact, particularly the old freedoms such as speech and religion.

Regrettably this would play a major role in the downfall of New America.

Said downfall began with a man called Father Santiago. Who Santiago was proved a mystery, as no one could recall knowing him and everyone was certain they'd never seen him before at any church. He just seemed to appear one day on the outskirts of Fordville. At first he seemed harmless, even proving quite popular as he traveled from village to village giving out food to those in need. Soon however, people started to notice a rather...dark slant to his preaching. Beyond the usual "Stealing is a sin, Homosexuality is a sin, not being christian is a sin, repent for you are all sinful!" sermons he also focused on the event. He called it a work of the devil, claiming it was Satan's attempt to doom the souls of every person ever born by ensuring their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ was never born. This naturally made many of the more desperate rather fearful and soon Father Santiago had a sizable following centered around a small compound on the edge of New American territory. Many secular and religious officials protested to Ross, calling him a heretical fear-monger who was sooner or later going to cause an incident. But Ross refused to take action, as everything the Father had done was legal and Ross felt that moving against him would start the country on a slippery slope to dark places. Frustration with Father Santiago inadvertently fueled the growth of the Church of the Storm God, a new faith that combined elements of native religions learned from integrated locals with elements of various neo-pagan faiths.

New America's first election would also be it's death blow. After five years Ross was exhausted, he found himself battling illness constantly and he was going grey before his time. He wasn't dying per say but he realized if he stayed in office he wouldn't live long enough to see his youngest son reach adulthood. Feeling things were secure, Ross announced elections with his hand picked successor, Micheal Hawk, leading the newly formed Stability Party that pushed for generally continuing most of Ross's programs. Two other parties formed in opposition, with Sarah Anderson running for the Farm and Labor Party and Samson Crawford running for the Conservative Party. Sarah advocated formalizing government control of the farms, the exile of Father Santiago, and greater relief programs. Crawford pushed for military control of the farms, programs and laws to promote population growth, and a focus on remodeling New America into a truly "Christian" state, with the Church of the Storm God being banned and exiled. Most were confident that Hawk would win and the nation would see an easy transition of power.

Unfortunately this would not be the case, largely because of how the election itself was organized.

To put it simply, the election was handled incompetently. A paper shortage had forced alternate voting methods to be used. Because there was no formal plans for said voting methods; painted reeds, stones, and even clay tablets were used by various towns. To make matters worse, no official plan had been enacted to regulate voting. Sometimes had more traditional voting places, others had town halls and few even held public votes. This resulted in a chaotic, confused, and generally angry election day. Anger that was further inflamed a few weeks later when it was announced that Farm and Labor had won a commanding majority. Accounting to the votes, Sarah Anderson would be the first President of New America.

Many urged Ross to throw out the results and hold new elections, or even suspend elections entirely and appoint Hawk to replace him. To many the results were clearly because of voter fraud, as even the Conservatives had gained more votes than expected. But Ross refused, citing his belief that such things were not done in America. He instead urged the people to accept the election and to hold a recall vote l if Anderson failed to live up to the office. For weeks tensions simmered between all three parties, fights even broke out in larger towns.

Then came the news that caught everyone off guard; Fordville was in flames.

In the chaos following the election, Father Santiago had been silently and slowly moving his disciples through the country towards Fordville. Once there they attacked with torches and clubs, trying to destroy everything they could. Santiago was determined to destroy Fordville and any other trace of American influence on the land, believing that if he wiped away everyone and everything that had been transported here, he would be able undo Satan's work. Fordville's defense forces were caught by surprise, and soon the disciples of Santiago were rampaging through the streets. Only a few dozen escaped the chaos, Ross was not among them. The Disciples were soon crushed and Anderson herself shot Father Santiago at his compound, but the damage was done.

Almost immediately after the attack Crawford staged a coup against Anderson and reorganized New America into the Arizona Republic. Anderson's supporters revolted, forming the People's Republic of America. Soon they were joined by revolts from both the Church of the Storm God and Micheal Hawk and the Stability Party. Once he secured a peace deal with Crawford, Hawk quickly revealed his long hidden egomania and began rapidly building a cult of personalty around him, eventually declaring the Kingdom of Arizona some years later.

What was once New America remains divided, a shell of it's former self as all of its factions saw massive emigration that saw many of it's people joining other states or even going on to create their own. For the many states that followed, New America would serve as a example to learn from. Though few can agree on what that lesson should be and almost every faction twists the story of New America's fall to their own political bias.

 

[Teen Spirit]

Wilson II

She would end up arriving at Knossos with two boats about a month after she had first just suggested the trip. The second boat was an uptime sailboat found adrift in the open water, its name, the S.S Alma, written on the bow. Its occupants were dead from self-inflicted gunshot wounds and the two bodies were given a burial at sea after which Rachel transferred over with her girlfriend Jessie, and her friend Clark Brown to crew the boat. The Alma wasn't as large as the Minoan vessel she had named The Eagle but it had room to fit five people comfortable and a small amount of storage, and a modern hull would make it far more suited for long range travel if and when that need ever arose.

The general apathy both Grey and Paris showed for this trip had allowed Wilson to staff it with her people and in addition to her girlfriend and Clark Brown she had brought along two other longtime friends; Maria Espinoza and Henry Alden. Both remained onboard The Eagle along with its former owner, a man name Komawens. Komawens had arrived the day after Troy was taken and quickly had his ship and crew impounded. Komawens and his crew had proven incredibly useful as the language they spoke was of the Semitic family, which made establishing a working translation with them far easier than it had been with the Trojans. Henry interpreted for him, and Maria was helping to translate his written language.

Still things on the boat had been tense, Komawens appeared to hold no small amount of fear of the uptimers. This was understandable, but more than once Rachel had found herself unable to sleep as she worried Komawens might slit their throats while they slept. To her surprise however, the downtimer never made any attempts at rebelling, even when they docked. Part of Wilson suspected that whatever fear Komawens had of them, he did seem to realize they were a potential fast track to making him very rich.

Still even with the Semetic merchant attempting to calm the situation, the docks very quickly became chaotic as the locals grew aware of the strange boat pulling into port, with even stranger people emerging from it. It wasn't the sort of chaos they had seen before with villagers running and screaming before them and women clutching their children as they shook fearfully at the sight of them. This was more of a chaos built from sheer curiosity, like the Americans were aliens whose spaceship had just crashlanded. The anarchy only increased as the locals in the port quickly realized they had goods to trade. Forks, knives, jewelry, pots, auto glass, toys, and even some fabric all of a kind that was unknown to them. The trade goods were given to Wilson's expedition by some of the other survivors in exchange for things like better rations, better housing and promises of getting part of whatever profit they made off of their mission. The sight of steel, clear glass and colorful fabric nearly pushed the situation into a riot and Wilson feared she might be trampled to death before some guards in leather armor came to restore order. The guards then escorted most of them (Maria and Jessie remained behind to guard the ships) and samples of their cargo away from the docks and to where they were now.

The reception courtyard of the palace of Knossos.

Rachel felt her heart pounding, the curiosity of a student flaring up within her once again. She was here, at the heart of Minoan Civilization. She was seeing their society as lived and breathed, and the palace was just one, admittedly quite impressive, part of it. Surrounding it was a well built and organized city that must have numbered in the thousands, with signs of a sewer system and even primitive aqueducts supplying fresh water to the palace and city. The markets they passed were filled with ivory by the ton, exotic woods, olives, oil lamps, wine, just to name a few things. Compared to this place, Troy seemed like nothing more than a collection of thatch huts surrounded by walls.

Children stared at them from behind red pillars, scribes kept their distance as they wrote on wooden boards covered with wax, women with pearls wrapped around their hair and dressed in rich blues and yellows looked at them with curious eyes, while what appeared to be priestess in shockingly revealing clothing glared at them from afar. Everyone in the area had their eyes trained on the four people standing next to the pile of boxes.

Wilson turned towards Komawens. "So are we in trouble or is this good?"

The downtimer looked at her for a moment before turning to Henry for clarification

"I am...not certain." Komawens replied awkwardly in heavily accented English "One normally does not...go to the palace so quickly unless one is expected."

"Who's in charge?" Wilson asked. The question was largely out of curiosity. Her teachers had told her Knossos was considered to be either a religious or an administrative center, or both. Putting an answer to that would settle a question that now would never be asked and also help them gauge how to deal with the Minoans.

He spoke with Henry for a minute, earning increased attention from everyone in the courtyard before finally Henry turned to her.

"There seems to be some sort of King whose name I can't pronounce without gargling marbles but Komawens seems more worried about some Snake Priestesses. I think that was the translation at least."

So did that mean they were dealing with a weak king, a particularly power religious caste, or a system that favored both? Figuring out who the real power was could be important, what one could see as a boon the other could see as a threat to their own power.

A man dressed in gold and light blue fabric stepped out of the palace, on his head was a Diadem crown lined with feathers. Next to him was an older woman wearing revealing clothes similar to the other priestess, in her hand was an oil lamp shaped like a serpent. Numerous rings and other jewels adorned both of them. Flanking them were six guards; all of them in leather armor; holding bronze spears and shields that were made of stretched cow hide.

Stretched cow hide.

Even by this point that seemed like something that would be considered out of date, only used when reducing weight was more important than protection. To a degree that made sense for a naval power like the Minoans, but this was a palace, the most important palace the Minoans had. She would have thought she'd see more guards with more armor on them, but she didn't. And even the guards she did see were, while not exactly at ease, surprisingly calm considering the situation. They didn't view her or any of her friends with fear, none of the people here did. Either that meant they hadn't heard of them (and that seemed unlikely all things considered) or they were confident Wilson and her crew weren't a threat.

Confidence did seem to be big here, the palace lacked any walls or defensive fortifications, even the port's defenses seemed relatively bare. On first impressions alone it appeared that the Minoans thought the sea and their navy was the only protection they needed. And why bother with defenses when you're a hub of trade in a era that was deeply dependent on trade?

If Tucson had appeared closer to or even on Crete, Knossos and the rest of the island would have been sacked by now, its trade network likely ruined in the process. How many idiots would try to turn this into a second New America if they could? Thankfully that hadn't happen, yet. For now it was safe and prosperous, and that was something that could make a great many possibilities become reality.

Whatever other ambitions the situation inspired, Wilson did her best to push them out of mind as one of the guards spoke.

"They want to know who's leading us." Henry translated.

Wilson stepped forward, hands held behind her as she kept her eyes level with the king but not staring directly at him. She nodded her head in place of a bow, if these people even took bowing as a sign of submission.

"Greetings, My name is Rachel Wilson." She spoke loudly and clearly, Henry translating for her to Komawens who in turn spoke to the guard. "I sit on the new council that now leads Troy. We wish to renew the trade you had with that city- actually we wish to increase it. We have brought some of our many wares and goods with us, do they interest you?" She gestured to the piles of crates, particularly an open one with a steel pot in it.

There was murmuring when she stepped forward, but not as much as she had expected, that might have been more for her rather plain attire rather than her gender. Thankfully they weren't dealing with Classical Greece.

The priestess spoke this time, her grey eyes focused on Wilson

"We have heard the people of the demon city were nothing more than beasts, and yet here you come looking to trade. Are...are..." Henry struggled with the translation "Basically she seems skeptical that these goods are actually ours, she seems to think we could be thieves looking to make rich on what's actually one time deal."

An understandable concern, frankly even being honest Wilson wasn't sure if they had enough for a second trip, or that Grey would be willing to authorize one. Grey lacked ambition, frankly he lacked the ability to see more than five feet in front of his face.

Wilson put on her best smile. "I assure you we are but men, desperate men forced to do terrible things in hard times. But those times are over, and now we must plan for the future."

 

[Teen Spirit]

Wilson III

Rachel Wilson had come back to Troy with four ships, three of them heavy loaded with everything from copper and tin to olive oil and grain. Any worries of food shortages were gone for the foreseeable future and she had the respect of many; by all accounts she should be overjoyed, yet she felt empty and unhappy. She knew why though- she was unhappy over Lucas Grey. He had approved a second trip, but it was of far more limited scope and he had placed a strict ban on any attempts to pursue diplomacy with the Minoans or anyone else. Worse still was his new Labor tax. Come next year everyone would have to work in the fields for some part of the year.

She hated even the idea of such a tax with every fiber of her being, she was not about to let her friends and family be subject to such back breaking labor, not after what they had already gone through. Victoria might be willing to overrule him but that would require delaying the next trip to Knossos in exchange for more resources for a bigger expedition to Tucson. An expedition was needed but a bigger one would probably mean more dead for little extra gain.

And if she was being honest with herself, a bigger expedition to Tucson would mean more power for Paris and Rachel didn't want that.

Rachel sighed as she rested on the roof of her 'apartment' staring up at the night sky, so full of stars that still seemed wrong.

It wasn't that she disliked Paris, she was a good sort if a bit heavy handed. Certainly better than Grey (and wasn't that a low bar). But she had watched both of them debate and argue policy, and it was clear they both shared a similar flaw. Neither realized this wasn't going to last. Sooner or late one of the other factions would secure Tucson or at least their route to the city, or the bandits would become too numerous, or someone would realize scavenging was profitable and monopolize it as a business. Either way access to Tucson was going to get more and more difficult as time went on. More damming, they failed to understand that now was not the time to go on the defensive but to expand. They needed allies, more territory, more citizens. The walls of Troy weren't going to protect them when the more ambitious warlords came around demanding fealty. Already there were rumors of people to the north taking over villages, flying the Wildcat logo like it was some sort of flag, and there were those thugs pretending to be the national guard. Sooner or later, someone would get ambitious or lucky enough to amass a good deal of power, and then things would start to snowball. It would take years, perhaps decades but sooner or later a few powers would rise to the top and the rest would sink into obscurity, and she was not going to let herself be forced into the trash bin of history simply because she had allied with people who lacked anything resembling ambition.

She knew what she had to do- no- she knew what she wanted to do. She understood what it would mean, what she was risking, the people she would endanger if not kill, the sheer gamble involved with even attempting her idea. And yet the thing that really troubled her was that all she was worried about was what might happen to her people, she couldn't force herself to care about what these plans might do to anyone else.

She had changed, something within her had died in the escape from Tucson. The old her would have never even considered what she was about to do beyond maybe idle thought. But it didn't matter what the old her would have done, what mattered was what she did now.

She stood up, gazing at city below. It was dark, dark on a level that made all those complaints about how dark Tucson was at night seem downright cute. Few people were active right now, which made it the prefect time to set things in motion.

"Hey honey?" She called down into the apartment.

Jessie's head appeared in the opening "Yeah?"

"You remember that thing I was talking about before?" Rachel hesitated for a moment. "Well I've decided to go through with it."

For a moment Jessie was expressionless and worry ate at Wilson as she stared at the love of her life. Finally, Jessie gave her a sly smile.

"Alright. Should I rally the troops?"

Rachel smiled back "Yeah, but quietly"

 

[Teen Spirit]

Story: Wilson IV

The room was packed with everyone Rachel trusted. Jessie, Maria, Clark, Henry, Carmen Abril, and her brother Joshua. Things between Josh and Rachel had been rocky for years, largely because he was the main reason their parents had discovered she was gay which led to her spending her sixteenth birthday on the street. But he had apologized, and he was still her family. More importantly he was a blacksmith, he'd had his own forge and everything back in Tucson, which made him invaluable for what was to come.

They all held cans of Coke in their hands, some of the last soda left in the city. Perhaps the entire world. Some drank from cans, others from dusty glasses they had taken from home or battered for. Rachel drank from a ceramic cup the King of Knossos had traded her for a sauce pan.

"You probably all have suspicions about why I called you here." Rachel said calmly

"I imagine it's about the new tax everyone's whispering about." Carmen replied

"That's a factor." Rachel nodded "I did not drag us all into the dark to see you guys end up as simple farmers. We deserve more than that, you deserve more than that."

They had stolen, lied, and killed just to make it out of Tucson. It was horrifying but she had seen no other way. She had forced her friends to give up parts of who they were to survive- that had to mean something.

She stared at the contents of her cup for a moment. "I don't intend for any of us to be minor parts of a nation that might not even survive the next years, footnotes in an article two paragraphs long. America is dead, its values are dead, our old lives are dead. To survive in this new world we need to adapt. We need to take advantage of this chaos before our window closes and the natives start catching up to us technologically."

"What exactly are you purposing?" Her brother asked nervously

"Quite simply, I intend to take Crete." Rachel declared with utter confidence. "Take control of their palaces, install us as their new leaders and use their trade to forge a mighty kingdom. We have guns, they have spears, we have steel, they have hide shields. Why shouldn't we rule?"

The reaction was better than she expected, only a few looked horrified, most seemed to be considering it. Perhaps they were just as unenthusiastic about their situation as she was.

"You want to filibuster the Minoans?" Carmen questioned "With what, the seven of us?"

"Along with anyone else we can find who doesn't want to spend the rest of their life breaking their backs for potatoes. I'm asking a lot of you, but I know if we succeed we can build a life here worth living, spend our days in luxury instead out of hunched over in the fields. With our combined skills, our knowledge, and our education I believe we can ensure that our names are remembered through out history."

"I like it." Maria said with a smile "But with the age we're in, do you really expect any of these locals to take you seriously? We're not exactly in the best era for women after all."

"I wouldn't call the Minoans matriarchal." Rachel admitted. "But women there hold a lot of power and every major god they have is a goddess. We have a better shot than we do anywhere else."

"Why not just join up with one of the other groups?" Her brother asked. "Some of our other friends might still be alive. This seems extreme."

"And risk serving under another Grey?" Rachel retorted "The Government died in Tucson. All we have right now is managers and Air Force officers who think they have what it takes to rule. So why not us?"

"This is wrong." Clark muttered

"So was just about everything we've done since this began." Rachel said softly "I'm not talking about butchering the Minoans, far from it. We can use them to build something better and ensure their culture isn't consumed and replaced by the Mycenaeans."

"The Minoans have a powerful navy and complete control of their part of the Aegean." Jessie added "But they've grown over-confident and their military power is lacking. They don't think anything can challenge their domination of the waves. The sooner we strike the better, the longer we wait the longer we give them to realize just how dangerous we are and start increasing their military strength. It even possible that if we wait someone else might conquer the island."

The room was silent for a moment.

"I don't like it" Clark replied "But this place is soaked in blood. I'd rather be a hypocrite than live with a genocide."

The rest gave their agreements, some eagerly, some hesitantly

"You do have a plan right?" Maria asked "You don't just intend to sail to the island and shoot up the place until they surrender, right?"

"Of course not." Rachel replied with a smile. "For now just keep going on like normal, if you see anyone you think might be willing to join us, bring them to my attention. When the time is right we'll split in thirds. One third will head back to Tucson for supplies, another third will stick to the coast and recruit anyone useful and trustworthy enough to join our cause, the remaining third will take our heaviest weapons and head towards the Island of Ios. Our merchant friend mentioned that pirates had been using the island as a haven. Once we take it from them we can use Ios as a base, even set up some light industry. Dear brother, I'll need you to set up that forge you've been talking about."

"What about Grey?" Henry asked "He won't let you take the boats."

"I have plans for Grey." Rachel's smile deepened as she knew exactly what her next words had to be "Let's just say I intend to hand Paris the Apple of Discord."

A few groans filled the room.

"Come on, it was right there." Rachel defended herself.

"It's still terrible." Maria replied

"Yeah, yeah." Rachel shook her head "How about a toast, to the future!"

"To the Future!"

 

[Teen Spirit]

"Girl can call herself King all she wants, doesn't change the fact that she's a daft fool who got lucky. That's what everyone seems to forget, She Got Lucky. We all did I suppose, but her more than anyone."
-Colonel Jack Randall, New Sparta.

"I view Rachel and her little gang of friends as the greatest villains of our time for what they inspired. The Fall of Crete convinced every fool with a gun and two bullets that they could be the next Alexander the Great."
- Nathan Wilson, United States of America (New Washington)

"King, Anax, Queen; All titles that suit my current role. The others think me mad for using such titles, treating me like some sort of delusional fool with aspirations of grandeur. And that may honestly be true, but tell me, is it any more delusional than Store Manager declaring himself President? Or an accountant naming himself General? We're all fools, some of us just know how to use our foolishness better than others."
- Queen Rachel Wilson, The Minoan Kingdom

The Early Days

The story of the conquest of Crete and the rise of the Minoan Kingdom begins with the story of Rachel Wilson and her six friends.

Rachel Wilson was a twenty four year old college student studying at the University of Arizona with a major in Anthropology/Archaeology when the event occurred. Those who knew her generally regarded her as a nerd with strong opinions about science fiction and a fierce and unyielding loyalty to her friends.Loyalty forged after her friends had taken her off the streets when her parents kicked her out and later helped her get into college.

When the event occurred, Rachel did not see it as an act of God or Satan for she had seen such a thing before; in novels about the island of Nantucket and fictional towns in West Virginia. This wasn't the work of some god gone mad in her eyes, but an act of being far inferior and far crueler. She began to panic, realizing how desperate the situation in Tucson would become, and quickly rallied her friends, their families and anyone else she knew would listen to her and began making plans to leave the city.

That night she and her friends would rob from gun shows, supermarkets and several other locations across their part of the city. It was an act that horrified the group of college students but to Rachel it was a bitter necessity. Within 48 hours, she would lead a group of dozens out of Tucson, the group largely made up the families of her friends and girlfriend Jessica. A notable exception would be her own estranged parents, who insisted the danger would pass. They later found themselves part of the convoy that would become the United States of America (New Washington).

Weeks later, Rachel merged her small group with the Grey Convoy and served as that convoy's third in command on the road to Troy. As weeks passed they encountered the remains of several villages that had been burned out by other survivors, full of tools and weapons ranging from stone to bronze. Based on what they found she slowly pieced together where and when they were, and her mind began to wander back to a question that had come up often in a number of History and Archaeology classes; "what would you do with a time machine?" Rachel had had several responses over the years, her favorite being to punch the Classical Athenian politician, Apollodorus of Acharnae, repeatedly in the face. But as the convoy dragged on, her mind turned towards far more ambitious answers to that question.

Once in Troy she soon found herself unsatisfied with her new lot in life, even after a very profitable trip to Knossos the former archeology student felt like both Grey and Paris didn't give her the power and influence she deserved. Worse still was the Labor Tax that Grey was proposing, which mandated everyone had to perform farm labor for at least part of the year. Grey found it an insult to her friends whose skills she thought could be put to much better use. Wilson argued that they should just depend on the remaining locals and hired Minoans to work the farms, with Uptime overseers keeping an eye on them. But Grey was too distrustful of the downtime population to even consider such a course of action.

And so Wilson began to plan, convincing her friends that Troy was not worth their efforts and skills, that they could create a better life for themselves elsewhere. Of course that better life required tools and resources that Grey and Paris would not willingly part with.

Luckily for her things in Troy were quickly becoming heated.

The Trojan Coup and The Voyage of the Alma

As Grey's convoy settled in Troy, it quickly became apparent that the ruling Triumvirate had issues. Quite simply, both Paris and Wilson had come to dislike Grey. Paris had come to outright hate him, seeing him as a turtle who's only ambition was to use Troy as his shell. Grey for his part didn't like the two women either, viewing Paris as a thug and Wilson as a kid with her head in the clouds. Grey's concern was first and foremost protecting his people; for him that meant keeping Troy peaceful and isolated, the world outside of Troy didn't matter much to him as long as his people were safe.

Relations between Paris and Wilson weren't particularly great either. Wilson saw Paris as a jackboot with only slightly more ambition than Grey while Paris saw Wilson as an arrogant kid who thought her education made her better than everyone else. Still Paris was more than willing to work with her, seeing her as a far more agreeable alternative, something Wilson took full advantage of.

Over the course of a few weeks Wilson began to subtly and then blatantly push Paris towards removing Grey from power. Paris would finally agree when Grey proposed expanding the ruling council from three to seven, which Paris saw as an attempt to sideline her, and potentially pack the council with reliable votes for Grey. The problem was all three of them had friends and family along with a growing number of supporters in the city, it would take more than just imprisoning Grey to successfully remove him from power and a full on coup had to be staged.

Wilson promised support provided Paris agreed to fulfill certain demands. The former archaeology student did her best to seem like she was supporting Paris, but not so loyal as to be suspicious. In the days leading up to the coup guards and workers around certain parts of the city were reassigned, replaced by those loyal to Paris and Wilson. Then, hours before the coup was about to begin, Grey received an a note from Rachel warning him of a possible coup. Paris marched into the Royal Palace only to find a number of armed guards waiting for her, Grey having barricaded himself in his apartment. What should have been a bloodless coup quickly became a brawl that consumed the former royal quarter. Just as Rachel had hoped.

As the city was distracted, Rachel and her fellow conspirators moved quickly. Most of the supplies they needed were already on the ships and stashed near one of the smaller gates out of the city, with a few last necessities being taken under cover of darkness and gunfire. Rachel's conspiracy made off with numerous guns and all the ammo she could get her hands on along with food, all sorts of metal objects, trade goods, maps, and a number of auto parts including several valuable alternators.

The main gate to the royal quarter and the port were set ablaze as Rachel escaped with every boat she could.

From there Rachel's group split in three, her brother leading an expedition to the Island of Ios, her friend Carmen taking the last working diesel truck in Troy towards Tucson, and Rachel Wilson herself traveling down the coast looking for people to join their cause. Rachel's plans were ambitious, nothing less than the Conquest of Crete and the entire Minoan Civilization, and she knew that even with her tech advantage she still needed more people. The goal was to recruit both those willing to fight, and those with skills they could use such. But she also knew she had to be cautious, lest someone hijack her plans or set off on their own for Crete.

She took the Alma and The Eagle to visit the various villages and towns along that Anatolian coast that was now home to a collection of emerging survivor-states. She would present herself and her friends as a group of merchants and, as her friends haggled with whoever over prices, particularly in regards to black powder, Rachel and Jessie would get a feel for the place, doing their best to sort out who might be interested without revealing their intentions. In town after town Wilson found people in situations similar to herself, people who resented the primitive nature of their new lives and felt that the skills they had developed in their old life meant they deserved something better in their new one. Carmen discovered herself in a similar situation as the gang she hired to provide protection for her scavenging expedition quickly demanded to be part of the conquest. For people who had been reduced to such a hardscrabble life, the promise of relative luxury as one of the elites of ancient society proved to be an incredibly strong temptation. By the time she sailed for Ios, Rachel had army of nearly eighty people at her back, not counting the friends and family she had already put on the island.

The next month would spent preparing and planning. The conquest of Crete would have to be a surgical strike, far more planned and organized than the Massacre of Troy had been. As Rachel poured over maps, Jessica trained and drilled their army and her brother went to work forging new weapons to supplement their dwindling stocks of pre-event guns. Most of his weapons were crude, ad-hoc black powder muskets and mortars forged from scrap, but they would have to be enough. After Rachel was convinced they had enough supplies and everyone understood what their role would be in both the conquest and its aftermath, she set sail with her small armada.

The Conquest of Crete would begin roughly one year and two months after The Event.

The Conquest of Knossos

At the time of the Event, the Minoan Civilization was entering the final phase of it's Neopalatial period. The Island was politically divided with Knossos (A city of roughly 20,000 people) being little more than a first among equals, and the palace-states of Zakros, Malia, and Phaistos having almost as much influence over trade and the various Cycladic islands they controlled. The Minoan people spoke a Semetic language though their written language, Linear A, had become so divergent that pre-event archaeologists found it impossible to translate. Each palace-state was lead by a King though in reality most of them were dominated by the all-female priesthood as the priestesses controlled much of the trade that was the island's life blood, while the Kings were generally regulated to matters of inter-palace diplomacy and war, which had grown increasingly rare. The Minoans were at the height of their thalassocracy, having complete domination over the Aegean Sea and major influence over trade in the Mediterranean at a time when trade was vital to the region. Their Kings grew fat with wealth and even the common merchants greatly prospered. In Pre-event history the Neopalatial period would end violently in 1450 BCE when either an earthquake or volcanic eruption saw every a palace save for Knossos leveled. The Minoans would struggle along for a few hundred years before being conquered and somewhat absorbed by the Myceaneans.

Here, Rachel Wilson brought an end to the Neopalatial period in a far different manner.

Knossos first became aware they were being invaded when a stone mortar round screamed overhead before smashing into one of the roads leading to the palace. This was quickly followed by a merchant ship that had left port the day before returning, completely on fire as it drifted past the harbor.

Rachel had originally hoped for the attack to begin at night but fears of being unable to properly organize her hodgepodge army (who only had about a month of training) forced her wait until dawn. The woman-who-would-be-king intended to take the city as quickly as she could with as little damage as possible, she needed Knossos as a base for the rest of the conquest. Emphasis was placed on fear tactics including mortar fire (which was frequent but highly inaccurate) as the troops disembarked from their boats and pushed forward off the docks. Rachel Wilson herself stayed onboard the Alma, Jessica she trusted to lead the ground forces. Unlike the Massacre of Troy the American invaders were far more interested in herding the natives towards the palace than killing them. Once they were nearly at the reception courtyard Jessica halted the advance and through the use of an interpreter, the very same merchant who had first helped Rachel broker trade with Knossos, she demanded the King's unconditional surrender.

At first the demand was refused, but the King surrendered a few hours later after Jessica unveiled their secret weapon. Forging it had been a taken a considerable amount of bronze and multiple attempts, the boat that transported it nearly sunk on the way to Crete, and they had been forced to beach and later break the ship simply to get it out of the cargo hold, but in the end the gamble had paid off as Jessica now had a bronze cannon pointed at the palace walls. The thing was roughly the size of a 19th century twelve-pounder with enough black powder for nearly a dozen shots. The King though it was a bluff at first, but after a demonstration shot tore through some of the Palace's textile storage he quickly changed his mind and surrendered lest Jessica make good on her threat to "tear down his palace stone by stone". The head priestess considered overruling him, but remembered tales of what had happened to so many towns on the Anatolian coast and so kept her silence. There would be fighting throughout the day as others resisted bowing to the invaders but by the time the sun had set, Knossos belonged to Rachel Wilson and her allies. The next day Rachel marched through Knossos as if it were her triumph. At the palace she had the former king bow before her and give her his crown, she quickly tossed it aside and ordered a new one made. After announcing in in rough Minoan to all gathered that a new, glorious era had begun under her rule she took the title of Anax, borrowing a Mycenaean term for King to distance herself from the weak Minoan Kings. In a lavish ceremony in the heart of the palace she crowned herself "King Rachel Wilson, Lord of the Aegean Sea". She then quickly demanded fealty from all the other Palace-states. As expected, all but a few minor settlements refused.

The War for Crete was not yet over.
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Author's Note: So I've generally referred to Rachel Wilson as Queen because that's what the overwhelming majority of Survivor States call her and she doesn't view it as an insult. But King and Queen are kind of interchangable terms with her.