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Here's another story by Googlie. He's quite productive. I know this story is a bit long to keep it all in one document, but when I realised that it was too late... Sven is a Swedish name (no, I'm not Swedish...) so I assume this character is supposed to be originally Swedish. The author told me the name is a mixture of the name of an ice hockey player (he's Canadian) and the stereotype Swedish name Sven.
Sven's Story - Miriam and the OCC
Part I
I refused to sing.
As the Unity escape pod rocketed towards Chiron, the brainwashed faithful strapped into their deceleration harnesses were singing “Onward Christian Soldiers” at the tops of their voices. “Morons” I inwardly snorted. How had I become embroiled with this bunch of loonies?
I had been recruited as a mercenary on earth by the smooth talking Colonel Santiago, but in the confusion of the hustle to the escape pods I had become detached from my platoon and wound up being swept along to the wrong escape pod. I was now apparently part of “The Believers” faction, under the leadership of a religious fanatic styling herself Sister Miriam Godwinson. “Ah well,” I thought, “as long as the pay's the same it won't be so bad. And there are some nice looking women in this crowd.” But I still refused to sing.
Sister Miriam interviewed me shortly after planetfall. In her own way she was impressive, slight of stature, almost matronly at first glance. But those eyes….piercing, and the deepest blue that I have ever seen in a person's eyes. With a stare that seemed to be looking right into my soul. Her mellifluous voice was captivating – the kind of voice that commanded attention just by its tone and inflection.
I admit, she unnerved me.
“Sven”, she began, fixing me with that all-knowing stare, “you are The Lord's gift to us, a symbol from Him that our cause is just and that we shall prevail in the conquest of this harsh planet.” I shuddered. “I want you to take command of our defensive forces, and mold these eager recruits into a force without equal on this planet – God's Army”. Her voice rose “I shall provide the spiritual leadership and vision, and the open arms of salvation to welcome the ungodly , and you, Sven Alfredsson, will be my right hand, God's fist of compulsion.”
“Ma'am”, I said, “I work alone”. She glared at me. “What do you mean?” she queried, hackles rising.
“Look at me Ma'am. We mercs are a breed apart. I'm half human, half cyborg, a self-contained fighting and killing machine”.
This was true, and the evidence was before her very eyes in the form of my 215 cm. 150 kilo frame.
When I was conceived in 2040, my parents had wanted a merc. They were all the rage as the old world order was collapsing, and having one in the family represented a degree of comfort and security as no-one tangled with a merc. Selective genetic engineering had given me long legs, for fast ground covering, a huge torso, and an ability to withstand extremes of heat and cold. My muscular implants boosted both endurance and strength, so hefting the increasingly cumbersome weaponry was no problem. Retinal implants boosted sight, both telescopically and across the infra-red spectrum. Sensor nodes on my scull interacted with neural implants to give me 360 degree vision and the ability to operate in total darkness without loss of operational efficiency, as well as the ability to distinguish within the ultrasound ranges. I had also been fitted with analgesic dampers that allowed me to flood my system with pain blockers on command.
My forearms were massive, for they contained within each an arsenal of necessary equipment that could be deployed through neural commands. From within each I could slot into my hand both conventional pincers and laser cutters, fletch darts that could immobilize an enemy, nervegas projectile launchers (though I didn't think that the technology to produce nervegas was available yet on Planet) as well as the usual implanted array of useful tools. Within an abdominal sac had been implanted a small nuclear device which I could again activate on neural command, the “Kamikazi” option, which would destroy me and my stored memories and reports completely.
Truly I was an awesome fighting machine.
She stood back appraising me speculatively. “Then you shall work alone,” she said. “You will form part of our scout command, but you shall be Independent, reporting directly to me.”
I nodded my assent.
I approached cautiously, with enhanced senses flared. It lay there, in the patch of fungus, ominously black, and my sensor readouts gave no clue. It looked like one of the Unity pods that I had helped load before the flight, but there was something subtly different about the material. I flexed my wrist and willed the laser cutter into my hand. Carefully I opened the pod and leapt back in amazement. This was nothing like I had ever seen before.
I raked it with my sensors, searching for any clue as to its origin or purpose. I collapsed to the ground in agony as my sensor readings went through the roof. Triggering my neural and analgesic blocks, I recovered and moved away. The artifact followed, hovering just above the surface. I must take this back to our research scientists, I thought to myself and headed back the few clicks to New Jerusalem.
The journey back was different, as I wanted to avoid the patches of fungus – which slowed my movement somewhat (but seemed to have no effect on the artifact). I saw another pod nearby, similar to the first. Without hesitation I opened it and was unsurprised to see another, similar, artifact.
The small populace of New Jerusalem stood and gaped as I entered the base like a pied piper with rats in tow. The Artifacts caused some sniggers and guffaws as they resembled a cross between the old R2D2 robot of the old Earth movie and a fire hydrant I recalled from the slum area of my native city.
The scientists were abuzz with curiosity and with the thrill of discovery. Hustling them to their labs, they began their inspection, linking probes and sensors into every orifice the artifact possessed. Suddenly a shout erupted, and the lead scientist rushed into Sister Miriam's offices where I was reporting to her.
“Sister”, he gasped breathlessly, “guess what?”
She fixed that steely stare on him, one eyebrow raised interrogatively.
“We have completed the special project we were working on, and have built The Merchant Exchange, thanks to the two artifacts that Sven delivered to us.”
Sister Miriam glanced over at me “You have done well”, she said
Part II
Weird Science
The mindworm caught me totally by surprise.
I was resting some clicks from the Base, making my way to a landmark I had spotted when returning from the excursion with the artifacts. Although not exhausted by the trek, I was weary and even mercs have to recharge and recuperate. I had chosen a somewhat rocky spot on a hill, and as it was a warm evening was relaxing against a rock outcrop looking back over the valley I had traversed during the day. In the distance I could see the spires of New Jerusalem and closer to me were the emerging forests planted by our formers as they sought to remake this corner of Planet into the Eden of their dreams.
I reflected on the events of the past few years. It wasn't a bad life, although the pace was somewhat slow. I recalled the early meeting of the original settlers when we were discussing expanding over the planet. Sister Miriam was adamant that her vision prevailed, and that vision was of a single city, New Jerusalem, rising from our base to the heavens, with its cathedral spires beckoning to all that here The Lord had chosen to reside.
There had been a proselytizing group who wanted to aggressively expand. Led by one or two younger clerics, they argued strongly that the fervor for The Cause among the acolytes gave The Believers a natural advantage as they soldiered in The Lord's work, and that this would be dissipated if cooped up in a single city. They had attracted some support, but also some opposition. Sister Miriam rose, and swept the gathering with that look of hers that quelled discussion and dissent. The crowd hushed, and she spoke:
“Although forty years have elapsed since the great Earth battles, we have spent much of that time in cryosleep, so the events seem like yesterday. We were hunted and persecuted for our beliefs as the ungodly rampaged throughout the land. We had no sanctuary and those of us here today were truly blessed to have obtained berths in the Unity.
“We vowed 'never again' and now we have the opportunity to make this vow a reality. This is the end of the journey for us. We will build here our New Jerusalem, and let it be a beacon for all who want to come and join us. We have no need for a multiplicity of cities or empires. We will live in peace and peaceably proclaim our message to the others who have escaped to this planet, through the edifice that we build and the lives that we live to the glory of The Lord.”
At the time I thought “The poor misguided fools.” The base was founded on a flat plain with dominating hills to the north and south and an ocean to the west. Almost indefensible. But the land was arable and fertile, and the ocean provided nutrients and would someday support a Believer navy, so it might yet prosper.
These were the thoughts and reminiscences I pondered when the mindworm struck. The pain was excruciating as it launched out of the fungal patch on to me, hundreds of larvae some ten centimeters long intertwined and clumped together into a formidable mass that went for my head. Paralyzed by fear, with a primal screaming inside my head, I felt the sensor nodes being ripped off as the larval mass attached itself to me and individual units attempted to enter my brain through eyes, ears, nose and mouth.
I had enough discipline to flood my system with analgesic overload, that momentarily dissipated the strength of the psi-attack, and was able to clench my fist and make the neural link to my embedded weapons pod. The nerve gas missile pods had been converted by Believer technicians to flame guns; these sprang into life in my hands. Activating them, I beat off the attack, singeing my own flesh in the attempt. Successful, I swept the blackened husks into my backpack for future examination, and took stock of the situation.
My internal check showed me that I was some 30% operative. All sensor nodes were destroyed, along with one eye. Large parts of my face and neck had suffered second degree burns, and I had lost the use of one leg when an errant flame had severed the muscles, and deadening the implant. Looking around, I realized that I had to make my way to safety, to effect some emergency field repairs, and that sitting in the open waiting for the mindworm's mate to appear was not an option. But I felt inwardly strengthened by the encounter, my first battle experience, albeit against a native lifeform. I had entered the contest as a green rookie, but I now believed that I would be more disciplined in how I conducted myself in these skirmishes in the future.
Looking north, about two clicks away, I could see the tip of the obelisk that was my objective, so I resolved to make my way there and effect my field repairs in its shadow.
I forced myself across the tundra, slowly and painfully, dragging my useless leg behind me and inwardly cursing my lapse in readiness that had caught me by surprise.
As I neared, I saw that it was much larger than it had seemed from afar. It could more correctly be described as a monolith than a mere obelisk. It towered above me, and in the faint light of Chiron's twin moons I could see that its surface was metallic, reflecting a dull gold color.
Approaching closer, I was surprised to feel a slight tremor, and became aware, through my one good ear, of a low humming sound. I could also see that the reflection I thought of as coming from Chiron's moons was actually a dull glow emanating from the monolith itself. There was an aperture on one side, and I sensed a beckoning that generated a longing in my heart to enter and lie down and rest.
I entered, and a bottomless feeling of calm and wellbeing filled my senses. A soft glow emanated from one corner, and I turned my good eye to examine it. I froze, suddenly realizing that I was looking at what seemed to be an advanced operating table right out of some science fiction movie I'd seen on old Earth. There was a reclining couch with an apparatus that could encase the head, and a mechanical arm that looked like it could swivel and perform a sweep of the body in one motion. An instrument panel stood to one side, and standing out like a lighthouse in a storm was a button on the console, flashing green.
I moved over, and eased myself on the couch. If nothing else, at least I might get some sleep. The green pulsing button was hypnotic. I reached out and pressed it.
The arcane technology hummed into life. The headpiece moved down of its own accord, and clamped over my skull. Tentacles snaked out and fastened themselves to he torn flesh where my sensor nodes had been implanted. I felt a serene peace come over me, and relaxed totally. The arm swiveled, and commenced a slow sweep of my body from head to toe, beeping rhythmically. As it passed over the various damaged parts of my anatomy the beeping intensified and I could discern the console screens flickering with life. The arm finished its sweep, then returned to my skull. A skeletal metallic finger extended with a socket device at the end and positioned itself over my damaged eye. The machinery hummed, and suddenly I was aware of the full color spectrum again with restored enhanced vision.
I realized with a start that my sensors, both night optic, infrared and 360 degree perimeter had returned, and that my hearing acuity was restored. Finally, as the arm completed its second sweep down my body, and over my right leg, clamps appeared and encased my thigh, and again the arcane machinery hummed to life. I experienced an incredible energy burst through my leg, and was immediately aware of my muscle implants powering up and assuming control. I sensed a knitting of the muscle, and gingerly tested it through a neural command to the implant. Absolute recovery. The machinery completed its secondary sweep, and the arm retracted as did the headgear. The screens were blank, and the green button had dulled to a matte green. I noticed too that the glow had disappeared, and the humming and pulsing of the diagnostic and repair machinery had quieted. I slept.
The journey back was uneventful, the six or so clicks being covered routinely in my enhanced state. I was eager to report my find to our leader, as the implications were enormous for repair and recovery of our scout brigades.
As I approached the base, I sensed unhappiness. Drones were muttering among themselves, and citizens were talking in hushed voices. Even the librarian just gave me a curt nod as I approached Sister Miriam's quarters. I mounted the stairs with a growing sense of foreboding. Sister Miriam was at her desk, and she looked around as I was ushered into her office by an assistant. She looked haggard. This was ominous. I gave my report, and she brightened slightly at my tale, concerned about the attack of the mindworm, and smiling gently at my excitement regarding my discovery.
Then she dropped the bombshell.
“Sven', she said, “while you were away we were visited by one of Provost Zakharov's naval units. He has declared vendetta against us. We are at war.”
Conclusion
Destiny
Sister Miriam pointed the gun directly at my chest, smiling benignly and said “Sven, you know I will enjoy doing this”. She fired.
I must admit, I flinched. There was no telling if the scientists' and engineers' theoretical formulas and tinkering really worked in practice. Therefore, I had volunteered to be the guinea pig and test out the new armor the believers had developed. They were referring to it as “synthmetal”, and it was a modified Chobham armor.
It was some 250 millimeters thick, developed from a hardened resin produced from local Chiron materials, but primarily mindworm husks. Quite expensive to produce, each body suit was custom built for the unit, which involved the resinous material, while in viscous form, being sprayed over the body of the individual scout. As it was hardening, the seals were made, and a lubricant was applied to the skullhood to keep it flexible.
I, of course, presented a special case, as would any merc. The arms had to be modified to allow instant deployment of my array of forearm encased weaponry, and the armor suit had to be finished at the collar to allow the full functioning of sensory implants.
The projectile struck, knocking me backwards as if someone had pushed me suddenly in the chest. The force knocked the wind out of me, and for a few seconds I had difficulty breathing, but the armor took the kinetic energy of the projectile and spread it throughout the suit's molecular structure until it grounded, like a small electrical charge, on the chainmetal floor of the barracks room. The residual tingling ran through my body, as my implants picked up the resonance of the force and echoed it with a faint tremoring in my limbs. I fought back the almost automatic urge to release a mild analgesic block to deaden the pain I knew would follow – this test required me to report accurately on what I experienced and how I reacted. I knew I would have a fair sized bruise on my chest, and I knew that several such blasts could render me useless in combat, but I also knew that I could survive to fight on under most circumstances, albeit at reduced efficiency.
This was important, with Zakharov's troops presumably approaching day by day.
With the test being deemed a success, we outfitted our four garrisons with our new synthmetal armor, and waited for the inevitable.
Gwynneth swung the heavy rig around and began the laborious process of lining up the deep furrow next to the one she had just cut. The Formers were mammoth machines, extremely versatile multi-purpose vehicles. Their capabilities extended to harvesting, mining, planting, roadbuilding and even a modest amount of terraforming. Right now she was traversing the side of a hill plowing deep furrows in the moist sand soil preparatory to planting a forest of fir seedlings from Earth. The scientists had determined that the alumina-rich soil of Chiron would best support the Douglas Fir, especially on the west facing slopes of hillsides where they would be more exposed to the planet's rainfall.
The huge plowscraper at the front of the former leveled the land somewhat into narrow terraces, and cleared pebbles, fungus spores and the other detritus of Planet to one side. Immediately aft of the plowscraper was the furrower, which gouged its deep scar into the soil. Injectors poured a sludge of nitrates and growth enhancers into the furrow, and at five meter intervals a small seedling was ejected into the furrow. The rear of the former comprised a smaller version of the plowscraper, angled, to sweep the furrow flat after the small trees had been planted. As she looked back, Gwynneth felt a sense of pride; the rows of 60cm tall trees were symmetrical and stretched as far as the eye could see. In time, the forest that grew here would cover some hundreds of square kilometers of Planet's surface. She felt that she was present at the creation of something that would glorify New Jerusalem.
She turned round, and froze In the valley between the hillside she was working, and the next, she could see the two columns of vehicles approaching. It could only mean one thing. Zakharov's troops were arriving.
Gwynneth toggled her local comm-link. “Get me Sven”, she rasped, “I think we have company”
I arrived a few minutes later, my implanted muscle boosters working overtime as I loped the few clicks to the Former. My retinal implants boosted the magnification to the extent that I could make out details of the approaching troops. They looked like armored rovers, with Particle Impactor weapons pods mounted on each. They looked ominous.
Some minutes later I was back in the base, reviewing our defenses with Sister Miriam. I thought the situation hopeless.
“Sister Miriam”, I began, “You must try to make contact with Zakharov, and sue for peace. Our preparations aren't nearly complete, so we must stall for time.”
“I despise him”, she snarled, her voice full of loathing and contempt. “He and his godless horde of followers should never have been allowed on this mission”.
“But he is here, and with particle impactors”, I said, imploring her to try to raise him on her comm-link.
She flicked the cover off the comm-link, and keyed in the code. “He is getting my signal but is refusing to answer”, she said, snapping the link closed.
I winced. We were in for deep trouble.
We cowered in the Base as the projectiles rained overhead. Occasionally one of the scout posts would take a direct hit, that scattered flying shards of plastisteel and synthmetal through the air, causing severe collateral damage to the four battalions. I myself took some damage when a piece of a metal girder from the exploding barracks building scythed through my arm, severing muscle and tendon, but more importantly, rendering inoperative my weaponry for that arm.
Nor was there any rest. The relentless pounding continued day and night, making it impossible for our beleaguered scout battalions to get treatment.
Our entire economy was on a war footing. Every resource the base had was devoted to training and arming our citizenry for the battle. The technicians were producing supplies of the synthmetal as fast as they could, as were the armaments manufacturers. Raw recruits were hastily run through the barest of training programs before being rushed over to get their weapons training and being fitted for the body armor.
Even Gwynneth was under fire. She reported that a University armored unit was sitting on the hill above her repeatedly catching her former in its crossights and unleashing a barrage that was repeatedly hitting her.
I advised her to try to gain the altitude advantage, but she reported that she was blocked by the Rover, and couldn't move. Dear sweet Gwynneth. I feared for her life.
That evening the war council met, with Sister Miriam chairing. We were discussing tactics when suddenly her comm-link chimed. She activated the unit, and a beatific smile slowly spread across her face. “Yes, yes, I'll be there” she said, and snapped the unit off.
We all turned expectantly. “Zakharov?” I enquired. “No”, she responded. “Deirdre. She has convened a Planetary Council meeting, holographically, for later tonight. You are all welcome to attend, although it will be only me that they will see at their end.”
We filed into Miriam's offices, and took our places at the end of the table. At the deadline exactly, the holograph sprang to view. Seated round the conference table were the seven faction leaders, with the evil Zakharov smirking at one end. To the amusement of the others in the Believers room I stood up, and out of view of our projectors, walked round and put my fist through the face of the antichrist. That even brought a sly smirk to Sister Miriam's face, and elicited a wink from her to me.
Lady Deirdre was voted Planetary Governor, and arrangements were made for all the faction leaders to talk privately afterwards, with the exception of Zakharov, who still refused pointblank to speak to Miriam.
We signed a Pact with the Spartans, and friendship agreements with the others, except for the godless University, who were pounding our base mercilessly even as the Council meeting was underway. However, signing friendship treaties and getting tangible expressions of friendship are two different things. We had no credits to buy any advanced technology, and none of our own to trade. No one was willing to bestow any upon us, not even Santiago.
Eventually the other faction leaders stopped receiving Sister Miriam's comm-link calls. Our situation was becoming desperate. Each round of bombardment was taking its toll on all of us, from the grizzled veterans to the rawest recruits, but the hardest part was being unable to effect repairs.
Sister Miriam eventually called me in to her offices. “Sven”, she began, “I want you to go and try and locate another of these monoliths that were so helpful in restoring your health. The way to the one that you found is blocked by the professor's forces so you will have to go south.”
I left with a heavy heart.
I stayed in touch by comm-link, vowing vengeance as I heard the last goodbye of Gwynneth as the artillery pounded her former into a pile of smoldering metal.
I rejoiced with the others when I heard that Lady Deirdre had loaned Miriam enough credits to commission two new battalions of garrison troops. I groaned when advised of yet another veteran scout who had succumbed.
Then I found the monolith. Its arcane technology worked exactly as it had done before, and I spoke exultantly to Miriam. “It's about 15 clicks south”, I said.
“Stagger the units' leaving so that there will always be at least four in the base for defensive purposes”
“It's too late, was Miriam's sad response. “We have only four units left, and not enough minerals to equip another garrison unit. Even Deirdre has tired of my calls”.
My spirits sagged. I loped back in ground covering strides, knowing that my presence was needed as never before.
My comm-link beeped. It was Miriam.
“Sven”, she said, “It's over. Even now Zakharov's units are entering the base, and I am to be taken for torturing at his fiendish hands.”
My heart bled for her.
“You have been a good friend to us”, she said, “even if not one of us at heart. I release you from your vow of service. Go find Santiago and sign up with her. And will you do something for me?”
“Of course”, I replied, “name it”.
“Make it your mission, Sven, to find Zakharov, and assassinate him for me”.