Sirian Empire suffers worst harvests in 55 years Labor and food riots in Sirian provinces - Sirian Imperial forces enforce martial law Beta Sirius and Procyon increase troop levels to fifteen million - Sirian Empire co-opts both militaries into their own Armada Socintern Bloc nations gain control of the United Nations Security Council -Demand withdrawal of Human military forces on the Sirian border Earth falls into another election cycle and revolution Human Allied Treaty Organization dissolves -Randesia stands alone Red Dawn 2150 Introduction "Evil communication corrupts good manners. I hope to live to hear that good communication corrects bad manners." -Benjamin Banneker In the two centuries since the founding of modern libertarianism, few beyond the circles of those who believed fervently in such principles could ever conceive such a state existing in their time or in the future. Humankind, both individually and collectively, could think no farther then their current generation beyond vague platitudes and idle fantasies and thus were never able to conceive what a future based on reason, individual liberty, free markets, and small governments could develop. Yet that is exactly what arose in the wake of the great time of troubles that embroiled Earth in the 21st century when the traditional wielders of political and social power, sprawling governments, organized religions, and vast corporations all failed those they were meant to serve. For several dire moments, humanity itself was close to enacting its own destruction. Only through the miracle of technology, motivated by rational self interest of innovators and investors alike, was the vastness of space opened up to for humanity and thus, libertarianism was given a new life and ushered in a new age. The human peoples spread through the galaxy through numerous planetfalls and colonies, rapacious in their desire to spread and claim their own property amongst the stars, drunk with their progress. Like every generation prior, these space faring humans were no different then their forebears, unable to look beyond their current situation, ignoring the future but also forgetting the past. Tragically, much of humanity still clung to the failed ideologies and allegiances that they had tried to escape on Earth, and as humanity spread, so did their broken philosophies and ideas. To an enlightened few, the space race meant nothing more then a delay the inevitable condition that plagued humanity. These true sons and daughters of liberty thus chose to almost completely remove themselves from the rest of humanity. On the edge of known space, they founded their own nation, and in an ironic twist of tradition, named it after one of their greatest scholars and called it Randesia. Only here, it was said, could an individual live in true liberty, and live a life removed from coercion and aggression and either find prosperity or poverty based not on societies standards or whim, but on an individuals character or merit. Where property was sacred, and every man and woman a sovereign citizen, or sui juris. Where small government was seen as the best form of government, where small business was the most free form of business and the private practice of religion was the most spiritual. The sovereign citizens of Randesia were so intoxicated with their progress however, that they too made a mistake, one that all of humanity did. For naiveity is a trait of humanity and ever since the first ships broke the light barrier, there was an unspoken assumption that the galaxy was a final frontier, implicitly implying its emptiness of anything but space to explore and property to claim. Humanity was metaphorically ambushed by its first contact with alien intelligence, initially by the very fact of its existence, and then by the similiarities of how the first nonhuman peoples they met appeared to be so similar to themselves. These Sirians, as they were called due to the fact they originated from the brightest star in Earth's night sky, were bipedal humanoids, and for the briefest of moments, before scientific research cast it aside as pure nonsense, were even thought to of been distant relatives of humanity. While proven almost immediately wrong, relations between the two species quickly developed and Randesia was no exception. The Randesians soon realized that the Sirians were similar enough that they could understand the concept of liberty but too late did they realize that they failed to comprehend it. The consequences of these assumptions soon followed.
Finished outlining my next story now that The Dig is done. It's a bit more lighthearted fare. Now I just need to transfer it from pen to keyboard!
CHAPTER ONE: The Last Day of the Old Life "Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connection with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had happened. The most frivolous disaster which could befall himself would occasion a more real disturbance. If he was to lose his little finger to-morrow, he would not sleep to-night; but, provided he never saw them, he will snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the destruction of that immense multitude seems plainly an object less interesting to him, than this paltry misfortune of his own." - Adam Smith "Good morning Konklin City! It is currently six in the morning and it is I, your loyal host, Ryan Davis and I am broadcasting live from our own sanctuary of scholarship, the Cato Institute of Agriculture & Mining. Good old Cato A&M! We have a busy news day today and with most of my audience being college students and academics, I'm sure you want me to get the boring stuff out of the way. After all if you should care about it, you'd of looked it up yourself by now. First off...-." Benjamin Matthews finally managed to reach over and turn off the desktop media tablet. The only reason he even had it on in the first place is because, as alarm clocks go, the University deejay's voice beat them all both in style and volume. But his habit of sandwiching his loud opening and playing of new music releases with news was something that Ben just couldn't abide. The 'top news' stories were inevitably of foreign concerns. Pertaining to the perpetual civil strife on Earth that occurred with every election or some socialist with a funny accent posturing in the United Nations, or relating to how emergency aid needed to be sent to this backwater colony affected by a solar flare, or how people on the Moon demanded that their Moon continue to be called the Moon, instead of Luna, despite the fact there were dozens of moons colonized now. Any important story lost its impact in relation to how many light years away it took place in Ben's mind and so he left the offplanet news to the nerds and diplomats who actually bothered with such nonsense. Or at least, that's how he justified his willful ignorance. The truth was, outside of his particularly narrow vocation and personal hobbies, he ignored most anything that didn't pertain to himself directly. Of particular issue currently to him, was the pretty brunette curled up on the bed beside him. Pulling the thin sheet off of their bodies, his hard body pressed against her backside as he found himself in the same position he had fallen asleep in the night before, he nonchalantly gave her curvaceous rump a quick slap. It was sharp enough for her to feel it, and her curvaceous rear was firm enough to have the sound of the impact resound through the apartment. Unlike him, she was a far deeper sleeper and even that antic barely registered with her as she seemed to murmur something before burying her pretty face deeper into the pillow, the long brown curls of hair hiding her soft face. "Come on Brit. I want to get some breakfast before we head to class," Benjamin then said, shoving her shoulder in order to get her to wake up, only to have her murmur her disagreement as she now turned into the pillow. He smirked. "Fine. I guess I could just have you for breakfast," he then said wryly, waggling his eyebrows even though they were unseen by anyone before he dived in on top of her, and immediately drove a hand down the front of her tanned stomach, obviously reaching for an area that would definitely get her attention, and elicit more then a murmur of response. Before his fingertips trespassed the top band of her underwear, she suddenly shot upward and twisted her hips away from his probing arm as quickly as possible and as Benjamin rose to a kneeling position on the mattress, she rolled over her stomach and grabbing her pillow, smacked him as forcefully as she could across his face, to no avail. "Ayn fucking Rand, your an animal!" she spat at him before shaking her head and smiling. Ben just shrugged. "You're up aren't you?" She managed a reluctant grunt in response. "Sexual harassment is not what I enjoy waking up to on a daily basis," Britney then clarified as she realized the rush of adrenaline she had just experienced meant any chance of returning to sleep was long lost and started to roll off the mattress. "It was the only rational action I could take," Ben snarkily replied. --- It was Ben who noticed the first unwelcome disturbance of the day as the cute couple decided to take the short walk from the diner to the Social Science building on campus. "Geek at nine o'clock," Ben said, his tall body allowing him to easily look over the head of his girlfriend as he saw the approach of a slightly portly man their same age approaching. Britney barely glanced to the side, noticing it was their mutual friend Ambrose that was approaching with somewhat more enthusiasm then normal. "Actually that's three o'clock genius," she shot back, correcting him yet again. If anyone else corrected him, Ben would've been red faced and greatly annoyed, but with her, he was more willing to let it slide time and time again, mainly because she was the only girl that he found that would put up with his own many annoying habits and mannerisms, like the fact he existed. "Guys! Guys!" Ambrose called out to them, waving one of his arms as if the two of them had somehow missed the fact he was approaching them. "Did you hear the news?" he finally asked, bringing his sprint to gradual stop right beside them and then after blurting out the question, taking in a deep sucking breath. "I wake up next to him every morning Brosey. The only news I hear is the top single of the week," Britney shot back with a smirk. "How are you?" Ambrose shook his head. "Sheriff Wong called for a general muster of the militia. We're supposed to stop by the armory and pick up our kits and have drill this afternoon, after morning classes. Mandatory for all students," he said, still recovering his breath. "How are you not sweating?" Britney asked, scrutinizing their more heavyset friend but not seeing a single drop of perspiration from his sprint across the campus. Ambrose frowned at being ignored so completely. "Listen. It's mandatory! The Sheriff said so. It was the top story," he reiterated. "That include me too?" suddenly spoke up a voice coming up behind the trio. All three of them glanced over their shoulders and almost uniformly smiles came to their faces. It was a reception far warmer then what Ben and Britney had given Ambrose a moment earlier as another student walked up to them. "Hey Lando. Looking good," Britney said with her trademark half smile as it curled up the side of her mouth, almost causing her cheek to push up and cover her right eye. Ben reached out a hand and gave Lando his own trademark greeting by shoving the new arrival on the shoulder. "Thanks Brit," Lando replied, as he recoiled in anticipation of Ben's shove, a big smile on his face as he then nodded to Ambrose, who simply nodded back. "Yes that includes you too," Ambrose then stated, answering the rhetorical question. "Yeah Lando. Even adopted war orphans who are lucky enough to get nabbed by rich families have to waste time in militia service on behalf of scared bureaucrats," Ben stated, his sarcasm already cutting into Ambrose's pride as Britney offered a knowing glance, knowing Ben was going to now unleash one of his barely coherent rants. All three of them braced themselves for the verbal tirade. "Ambrose... seriously man. The Sheriff is just engaging in classic fearmongering. He's probably sad that he has nothing to do besides catching litter before it happens and breaking up bar brawls. He'll have nothing to campaign on for the next election besides a proven record of throwing drunks into jail for the night and is afraid that the drunks will finally come out in enough numbers to vote him out of office, because no one else cares enough to vote," Ben started to explain. Ambrose frowned at his obstinance and the fact that both Britney and Lando weren't backing him up. "It's every sovereign citizens duty to serve in a well regulated free militia." Ben shook his head vigorously. "No... I already serve in the militia. We all do. I don't need training. I'm a fucking crack shot already. I can live out in the wilderness off of army rations and despite the fact you've been to every 'emergency' muster I could still kick your ass on the court, in the street or on the battlefield and the reason your not angry is because you know that's true! I don't need to go to muster or be regulated. People like you do because you need someone else to hold your hand." "Easy Ben," Britney finally spoke up, pushing herself out from under his arm and stepping between the two of them. "He's just doing what he thinks is right. There's nothing wrong with that." Ben paused, glancing down at her and then back up at Ambrose, noticing he was looking visibly deflated and nodded slightly. "Listen man, you know you're my friend. I just, I hate it when people like the Sheriff live off our taxes and still are arrogant enough to demand we show up to these ridiculous musters like they are some sort of high up Field Marshals or anything. It's not like we're being invaded or anything. I'm pretty sure I would've heard about that. But you should go... make sure the tax money we waste on them is well spent." "You mean the less then one percent y'all pay?" Lando asked, a big smile on his dark face. "You guys have it easy. My family has to pay duties and tariffs for all of our commerce activities. Plus the license and application fees. It gets ridiculous. We actually have to hire someone just to deal with all of the black tape," he started to rattle off. "Be happy you live here and not in one of the Socintern states," Ambrose then said, earning nods of agreement from all of them. They had all heard the economic and fiscal horror stories from those places. Income taxes approaching fifty percent and as if that wasn't enough, they restricted free trade with ridiculous quotas, tariffs, duties, fees, sanctions, and even taxed people after they died or whenever money seemed to change hands. It was essentially legitimized theft, taking from those who make and create and serve and telling them that they can spend what you earn better then they can. "You're a good guy Brosey..." Ben finally said. "Listen... I'm not going to waste my afternoon with muster. I got things planned but I would seriously appreciate it if you could pick up Brit and my kits and drop them off at our place." "Yeah could you?" Britney asked, her eyes lighting up. "We have to plan Damons coming home party. It's happening tonight at St. Olaf's Lutheran chapel, in the ballroom." "Yeah of course," Ambrose replied, hoping he wasn't looking like a complete pushover. That failed when he asked Lando if he wanted him to pick up his kit as well. "No," Ben interjected. "Lando is rich. He'll have Sancho get it for him. Maybe even do the fighting for him if we do get invaded by the Commies," he added, stealing a laugh from all of them, even Lando. --- That Evening Saint Olafs Lutheran Chapel Damon felt somewhat fake as he walked up to the podium where normally a Minister or Preacher or whatever would be delivering some sort of sermon to the faithful. But it was him now, standing in front of not so much a flock of faithful, as it was a bunch of his friends and compatriots, whether in the mission or otherwise. Combined with the fact that he was wearing an extremely nice and well fitted suit, and was the main speaker tonight, helped increase the detached feeling he had. It just wasn't him. But public speaking wasn't something that made him feel particularly nervous and thus, Damon hid the disingenious feelings he had extremely well. "Hello uh... Ladies and Gentlemen. First off I'd like to thank the Father... sorry... I mean Imam... sorry I mean Reverend..." he started to state, intentionally fumbling for the correct title in order to draw an icebreaking laugh from the crowd. "Thank you..." he then said with a grin. "Listen. We all have our different faiths, or lack thereof. We all have our different lifestyles and cultures and beliefs and personalities. But there is something we all hold in common in Randesia, and that is our love of liberty. Everyone... all humans capable of rational thought possess free will and are able to take responsibility for their actions. But Randesia is the only state in this galaxy where liberty is what governs us, and not governed itself. Yet we unfortunately live in a galaxy where liberty is curbed. In some countries this is done through taxes, in others through political repression, or religious laws. Never the less, the spirit of liberty exists in all of humankind." He cleared his throat. "When I enlisted in the Mises Mission, no particular faithful duty guided me. It was my desire to spread the ideas of liberty not to humanity, but to those areas of space far beyond our reach and more specifically the Sirian Empire. When I first arrived in Sirian space, I went in knowing I would be immersed in a completely foreign culture, and for once the literal meaning of the word alien would have been appropriate. But I believed, deep down, that all beings capable of rational thought were equally capable of conceiving of liberty and that the Sirians were no different." "I was not mistaken. But I come back, after two years of hard work, to tell you that the embracing of liberty for Sirians is as far away for them as humanity embracing the despotic primitivism of our ancient ancestors. Your average Sirian peasant, and that is what they are, understands the concepts of free will, and personal responsibility as a general concept, much like... mortality or love of family. But they are unable to comprehend liberty. In fact it is as alien a concept to them as, for example, cannibalism is for us. And it's not because your average Sirian is an evil, or even amoral person. They have families and love them. They work hard and reward based on merit. But make no mistake, my comparison rings absolutely true. In cases of extreme adversity or other exceptional circumstances, humans have been known to engage in such sordid practices such as murder, or cannibalism, or some other great affront that is so far beyond our normal scope of comprehension in civilized life that it continues to shock us. It is similar with the Sirians ability to grasp, much less adopt the concept of liberty." "When I was there, I witnessed firsthand famine brought about by food shortages. Of repression, not for any political reason, but for even more disturbing societal and demographic ones. I saw unrest, and riots, but not for any cause or idea, but simply for a change in their current condition. For the average Sirian, life is one without hope. Without dreams. This is the state they live in and have lived in for countless generations. And change will not come. It can only come if the Sirians will themselves to revolutionize their entire society and culture from top to bottom, in an effort that would surpass any human achievement and that is why this will never happen." "With that said, I do not regret for a moment my service in the Sirian Empire and while this might be a great deal to digest, remember that we have long learned to come to terms with such facts as rational beings. The Sirian Empire will not change, it will simply endure. The sooner we come to terms with that, the sooner both of are drastically different nations will live in peace." Damon then paused and closed his eyes, seemingly wanting to cleanse himself of the heavy speech he just waded through. "With that said, I am glad to be back in Randesia, the greatest country in the galaxy!" As expected, he was met with a resounding cheer. --- "Great speech man!" Ben said, practically pushing his way through the throngs of people to get at his best friend, long removed. "Ben!" Damon said, his gray eyes lighting up as he saw him break through the seeming wall of humanity that surrounded him. "Excuse me fellas, but family comes first and for a man with no family, I consider this guy here a brother," he said with a quick wit before turning to meet Ben. Ben offered his hand for a shake, but Damon moved right in for a hug that seemed to surprise the undergrad. "Whoa... hey... wow," Ben said, somewhat flustered at the affection as Damon didn't just give him the old one handed half hug, but practically threw his arms around his childhood friend and seemed to hold on for dear life. "God... you have no idea how much I've missed you...," Damon said, before catching himself as he noticed how weirded out Ben looked. "Not in that way... Christ," he then quickly added. "Oh okay," Ben then replied with a laugh. "Come on. We have a lot to catch up on. There's so much I have to fill you in on that I couldn't mention over the subspace packets," Ben said, dragging him over to where his friends were mingling about. Britney, as expected, was the first to notice Damon approach them as her face brightened up and she practically leaped towards him. "Damon!" she said, almost diving into his arms and throwing her own slim arms around his body, almost looking like he was trying to squeeze him. "OhmygoshImissyousomuch!" she said with a bit of cheerful giddyness before taking a step back and getting a measuring glance of the man before him. "I'm so happy to see you return to us safely. Must've been scary..." Damon shrugged. "Well I can fill you all in some other time, I kinda just want to... reacquiant myself with everyone you know," he said, somewhat sheepishly, not wanting to sound rude. But Britney nodded in sympathy. "No it's cool man. Britney and I just knew you since we were kids, no big deal or anything," he said with an overbearing sarcasm punctuated by a playful shove. "Jerk!" Damon snapped back casually, shoving him right back and indicating that he hadn't forgotten either of them or their friendship. "Sup Damon," Lando then said, finding his opening and moving in to shake his hand. "Oh hey... uhhh Lando is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, obviously not knowing him as well as the other two. "Yeah. Welcome back. That was some speech there," Lando said. "Interesting stuff." "Fuck that!" Ben suddenly interjected loudly. "Listen Damon. I've been doing some research while you were gone and read that Sirians females are incompatible with human males," Ben said. "It's actually worse. Something to do with pheromones. It kills each others sexual drive or something," Damon mumbled back, already knowing what his friend was getting at. "Good Galt that's horrible!" Ben said. "We are going to have to get you laid, seriously." "Ben..." Britney said with a sigh. He ignored her. "How about the black chick over there Damon? That's about as far from Sirian Red that you can get," Ben said, tossing out bigoted statements as casually as possible. Before Damon could say no, Lando shot down that idea. "Lucretia is Ambrose's girlfriend. They're engaged," he said, referring to the African lady they were staring at, who just happened to be talking to Ambrose that very moment. Feeling the eyes on him, Ambrose turned and saw all three of them staring at them and immediately assumed they were looking at him and not his buxom girlfriend and immediately walked over. "Geek at twelve o'clock," Ben warned warily under breath. "Good job!" Britney said in sarcastic congratulations at Ben's sense of direction and earning uncomprehending stares from Damon and Lando. "Hey guys. Good to see you Damon," Ambrose said. "Brose-man!" Damon said, remembering his nickname for the geeky kid back in secondary school. "Good to see you. Do I have stories to tell you that you will just eat up-." "That's not all he'd eat," Ben said, making another insensitive interjection to break up another perfectly legitimate conversation not involving him. "Hey Ben. I dropped off yours and Britney's kits at your apartment. You should've gone to mus-," Ambrose started to say, when Ben cut him off again. "Who is that?" Ben then asked, his bright blue eyes growing wide as he spotted a particularly fetching redhead seemingly appear in the room. Everyone else turned and immediately knew which woman Ben was focused on. Her bright red hair stood out from the crowd like a beacon. It was as if she was unseen because she was so small statured but as soon as she stepped out into the open, she lit up the room. Not so much from her looks, she was cute, in the adorable sense, but the hair. It was bright red and still looked natural. Plus she was wearing the rather smart looking black and tan Sheriffs Deputy uniform, with the black pants, and jacket with the tan trim and even the brown necktie that made her look even more sharp in appearance. "Hey Sirian red... head. Easy transition for you Damon. What do you think?" Ben then asked, reducing this strange new sighting to sex talk with shockingly sad efficiency. "That's Hailey. She's Sheriff Wong's niece or something," Ambrose said, earning quizzical glances from the rest of them. "Sheriff Wong is Asian... like one hundred percent." Lando said, stating the obvious comment that was on everyones mind as he spoke on how this obviously very fair skinned, red headed Caucasian woman could somehow be Wong's close relation. Ambrose shrugged it off. "She was at muster. She's like a special weapons deputy or trainer or something." "Another government bureaucrat who couldn't get a real job eh?" Ben asked before turning to Damon. "Couldn't be any easier if she was blonde," he then added, showing his disdain for anyone who got their wages from government income. "Maybe you should talk to her Lando," Britney then said, already sensing Damon had no interest in starting up a new relationship his first full day back and knowing Lando was single. But Lando simply shrugged, even seeming to blush at the thought of it. Ben rolled his eyes at both Damon and Lando's seeming hopelessness. "Let me show you guys how its done and don't worry Britney, I'll let her down easily," he said, full of bravado as he approached this new girl, Hailey. "Excuse me... Hailey is it?" Ben asked, walking up to him. Her big green eyes noticed the shadow crossing her legs and looked up at the man stepping up to her. "Hi?" she said, turning her head to the side and cocking it slightly as if wondering what brought this on. Ben unleashed one of his patented pick up lines, knowing his friends were listening and watching. "Yeah... ummm... I'm sorry but who are all these people? I thought it was just going to be you and me tonight..." he said softly, moving in closer to her. Her eyes never left his, as a smile grew on her face, and then a breach opened up in her calm demeanor and she opened up her lips to offer him a bright white grin. "Oh aren't you sweet," Hailey replied before offering her hand. "And you're right, I am Hailey," she said, shaking his hand. "And what's your name?" "I'm Ben," he said with a nod, as he could barely hear behind him, his friends exclaim their surprise at how easily he moved in to the strange girls personal space and struck a conversation with her. "Are you a student here Ben?" "Oh yeah. I am-." "What program?" "Oh... umm you know the A and M... I'm the A part of it." "Agriculture? So you're a farmer then? Or a horticulturalist? Or?" she started to ask as soon as he paused in his response. "Umm well I'm not really sure to be honest. I'm just getting these stupid generals out of the way you know," Ben replied, feeling those green eyes were still peering into his as she simply asked him another question. "So what do you like to do?" "I like talking to you. Do you like talking to me?" he then asked, trying to get one of his own questions in, and even somewhat surprised at how into him she seemed to be with the barrage of questions. "Yeah I do. What else do you like to do? Sports or anything?" "Uhhh not really. Not to say I'm not athletic. I do rugby and baseball and stuff. Ya kno-." "Oh that's cool," she said, nodding emphatically. "Any hobbies?" "Camping. Free hiking," he suddenly found himself saying, almost robotically. "I like that too. It's fun. What about reading or anything? Anything like that?" "Ummm not really-." "Oh right, you don't like generals. You're more of a hands on type of person right?" "Ummm yeah. Yeah I'd say so. And what about you?" "That's good. So are you active in the militia?" This time he finally stopped autoreplying. "What is this about? Me not showing up for muster?" Her face immediately seemed to soften. "Oh no. I'm not here about that. It's your sovereign right to not show up and do your duty," she replied with a smirk before glancing past hm and noticing Ben's friends. "I bet you like shooting and stuff though don't you?" "Hell yes I do!" he then said, as he just then realized he didn't even have the time to get annoyed at her questioning his dedication to the militia before she fired off an explanation, and then had him answering questions all over again. "Good. That's good. So are you going to introduce me to your friends?" Hailey then asked, that original smile turning into a deceptively mischievious grin, at least as far as Ben felt. "Uhhh yeah sure I can," Ben said, almost with a resigned accent in his voice as he led her over to his friends, wondering what the hell just happened. "Hi I'm Hailey," the redhead said. "I've already met your friends Ambrose and Damon but who are you two?" she then asked, her bright fair face turning to Britney and Lando respectively as they and Ben took pause. How the hell did she meet Damon already? "We meet at the starport," Damon said with a smile, answering their unspoken question before stepping back and disappearing into the crowd of people waiting to speak with him. Not even registering his depature, Hailey turned to Lando first. "What's your name?" "I'm Lando," he replied as Britney, as politely as possible, tried to step away, apparently finding the urge to escape. But as she stepped away and retreated from the scene with Ben, they both glanced back and saw Lando, a big white smile on his face as this cute young woman seemed to show a genuine interest in him as they started to converse one on one. "Fucking government bureaucrats," Ben said dismissively. "No wonder she likes Lando. Chances are he pays her salary." "Oh geez Ben. I guess you'll have to settle with me," Britney groaned sarcastically.
The awesomeness should happen soon enough I hope. I just need to set it up a bit first. This isn't some John Milius' screenplay after all...
CHAPTER TWO: Red Dawn "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin "I just don't understand why you are leaving so early, you just got back here yesterday," Ben said, as he idly stirred his coffee, watching the white creamer slowly swirl about his spoon, before dissipating completely into the black liquid. For some reason, watching this occur in his mug seemed very powerful, but he simply couldn't find the words to verbalize what he was thinking and thus, looked up from his cup of coffee and quietly waited for his best friends response. "Listen Ben," Damon said, slinging a knapsack over his shoulder. "I appreciate you letting me crash on your futon," he said, nodding to the sofa bed which he had already managed to clean, fold up and from what Ben could tell, even vacuumed while Britney and he were sleeping in the next room without waking them. "But I just can't... sit around and not do anything with myself, not without... focusing on something in the future you know? A purpose." Ben replied honestly. "No actually, I have no idea what you are talking about," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "Plus I don't see how applying to be leech on the taxpayers is a purpose. Did you not meet that redhead last night? She passed me up for Lando of all people, the richest person in the room like she somehow feels entitled to being wealthy without working for it. That's what all public servants are like." Damon just frowned, somehow hoping that in the two years he had been gone that his friend had matured somewhat in his opinions, but college seemed to only reinforce it. "She's actually a combat veteran and I want to apply to be a Sheriff's deputy because I want to serve the community." Finally letting off on the tirade of mild verbal abuse, Ben just shrugged. "Alright then. Whatever makes you happy," he said, as if resigned to dealing with Damon's apparent failings. "I have to admit, your time as a Missionary of liberty has changed you." Damon smirked. "Yeah? And what do you think of the change?" Ben took another sip from his coffee. "Ask me in six months," he said. --- Sheriff's Office Konklin City Unlike some of the Socintern nations, or even the more developed parts of the Sirian Empire, Randesia did not have a very well developed public mass transit system, at least for people. In fact, even the road system beyond the cities was a bit... hazy and if it wasn't for the invention of repulsorlift technology and other advancements in making vehicles that can go to and fro while hovering, it would've been even more of a mess getting around. As it was, Damon managed to get hitch hike from the campus to Old Town where the main Sheriff's Office and the armory was located. One of the benefits of a well armed society was that it really was polite, and thus a low crime rate meant a discernible lack of mistrust and danger when it came to cultural quirks like hitchhiking. He was dropped off by a kind citizen right in front of the Sheriff's office, only to find only a civilian desk worker was sitting behind the desk, the rest of the building beyond the lobby looking completely dark beyond the locked doors. Damon glanced around the bare, prefabricated cubicle style walls, devoid of any decor or even pinned printouts or cheap digital displays. Even the front desk was a bland plastic table covered with a wood lamination and given a front side to make it look like a desk. Behind the desk, typing away at an ancient looking computer, was an equally ancient looking elderly woman. "What's going on?" Damon asked, expecting the Sheriff's Department of an entire city to actually have police inside. He knew crime in Randesia was low, and that no one liked cops, but this was ridiculous. The woman looked up at him, as if surprised someone had wandered inside by accident. "Are you Damon?" she finally asked after a long, awkward pause. "Yeah...," Damon answered hesitantly, dragging out his answer. Seeing a police station devoid of police was already giving him second thoughts. She nodded to the side as he noticed a large olive drab backpack on top of a table to the side as well as a standard issue Randesian militia battle rifle leaning over it along with a canister of ammunition. "She said you would be by to pick that up. We aren't accepting applications today because of all of the excitement," she continued. Damon nodded, and reached over, picking up the rather heavy pack before snatching up the rifle as well. "Thank you," he muttered, suddenly feeling the urge to leave when, just as he was about to walk out onto the street again, he saw the side door to the militia armory building, just down the street, open up. Out in front, a Sheriff's Department armored car, one of the large, armor plated vans with the grated windows and six massive tires and painted in green and black blobs, was parked beside the curb. The armory door was swung shut, as Damon noticed Hailey, still wearing a neatly pressed Sheriff's deputy uniform, walking out, some sort of communicator in her hand and casually walk up to the drivers side door of the armored car. Somehow, and he wasn't sure how, she paused before stepping up and into the large vehicle. Without any setup, she turned her head over her shoulder and looked straight at Damon, and flashed him a smile and a nod before climbing into the drivers seat. "You should be heading home soon," she said to him cryptically before closing the door. Then she just drove off, in the direction of the campus. Damon frowned. He just realized he could've asked her for a ride instead of standing in the doorway like some loser. Maybe he had spent too much time with the Sirians. --- Cato A & M Campus "History is one of those topics whose sole purpose is to train the next generation of history teachers," Ben started to explain as Britney, not interested, simply nodded in agreement with him passively so as to allow him to get another of his random rants out of his system. "You see what I mean Brit? What else does a history student do besides teach history? Nothing. That's what." "Right..." Britney said, not even sure, or really caring, if he was right or wrong. "Soooo that's why I think going to history class is pointless," Ben finally surmised, having taken roughly half an hour to explain his theory. "Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it," a voice suddenly chirped up from behind them, as both Ben and Brit noticed Lando quickly striding up behind them. "Hey. Hey. Hey if it isn't the big man on campus himself... how was Hailey?," Ben started to ask, waggling his eyebrows and eager for details. As soon as Lando stepped within reach, he reached a hand out and pulled him into an amateurish headlock. "I want to know everything." Lando just wiggled his head free and smiled. "Aw man, it was nothing like that." "What do you mean? You two were talking when we left! She just gave me the cold shoulder as soon as she eyed you, you rich fucking refugee baby," Ben said in playful spite, as Britney just shook her head at how obtuse he could be. She was thankful Lando was someone who understood 'his kind' of humor. "No I'm serious. All she did was ask me a bunch of questions," Lando said. "It was actually kind of weird, and uncomfortable, but I just kept answering them because... I don't know. She was really cute," he said, unable to find a better explanation. "She probably could've asked for my bank account number and I'd of rattled it off." Ben sighed, shaking his head as he then slapped Lando on the back. "Don't worry, we'll find a girl for you yet, and not some lame fucking gold digging public employee either." His head nonchalantly glanced upward, as almost immediately the sharp eyed undergrad noticed something askew. "Why is there a guy with a rifle patrolling the rooftop of the Social Sciences building?" "I know, this exercise is so Orwellian," Britney said. "What exercise?" Ben asked incredulously. Britney blinked. "Ummm you remember that militia muster we ignored this exact same time yesterday?" Ben paused for a moment, apparently deep in thought as he scanned his memory as far back as yesterday. "I do..." he replied, his voice still filled with a tinge of uncertainty as Britney figured the cheap alcohol he drank after leaving the chapel last night probably assisted him in his selective short term memory loss. "Well I was actually listening to the news while you were in the shower," Britney started to explain. "There's a national readiness exercise going on. Well it's supposed to be national, but only our province and a few others are actually doing the full thing." "More scaremon-," Ben started to explain. "I heard about it too. It's scary," Lando suddenly interrupted, cutting Ben off. "The United Nations ordered the border area to be demilitarized so as to not provoke war with the Sirian Empire. But people are saying it might not be enough, that war is inevitable. The Sirians are blaming us for the famines and saying it was foreign human instigators that are responsible for unrest in their own country." "All of those commercial communication signals broadcasting into open space," Britney said nodding. "Their lame Emperor is probably worried that Chinese Kung Fu films will corrupt their youth," she joked. "I bet Damon knows about this," Lando then said, when finally Ben managed to get a word in. "Who fucking cares?" Ben asked rhetorically, practically shouting. "This is scaremongering. If war was going to break out, I think we'd notice a massive armada crossing the border. Space is big, but it's hard to hide a couple hundred warships with massive thermal signatures." He looked up at the rifleman patrolling the rooftop of the building they were about to enter. He was wearing a black combat vest, sunglasses and a baseball cap over a sky blue campus security uniform. "This is Orvillian." "Orwellian," Britney corrected, also looking up at the well armed campus security guard with his precision laser rifle. "Ambrose send me a message this morning. Told me that the schools managers decided to gear up the entire campus security force this morning for the exercise." "Yeah and all of the deputies are out delivering the militia kits door to door. They are only taking emergency calls for the next few days. It's so surreal," Lando said as they headed towards the entrance of the Social Sciences building, with Lando taking a big step to the side, giving a wide berth to some other student openly carrying a pistol in a shoulder holster. "Orwellian or Old West?" he finally asked, as he followed his two friends inside. --- "The important thing to remember about the Red Scares is that while the source of the fears, the rise of Soviet Russia and worldwide communism, was legitimate, the response was illegitimate. Once again, in response to a legitimate threat, a government entity, in this case, the United States government, oppressed its citizenry and showed itself more then willing to sacrifice liberty for perceived security," Professor Wallace continued to lecture in his gruff Scottish accent, one hand on a pointer for the holographic display mounted in the front of the classroom, his other hand resting on the handle of what looked like a classic remake of a single action revolver holstered in his waist. Ben was focusing on how he had never seen his Professor, and so many others, carrying guns on campus now and finally felt the urge to make a comment as he shot his hand upward. "Professor Wallace?" he asked. The Professor turned, a look of genuine surprise on his face that it was Ben asking a question considering he usually looked... distracted most of the time in class by the brunette he always sat next to. "Yes, Mr. Matthews," the Professor said, pleased to hear one of his more quiet students engage the class in discussion. "Would you say that what's happening right now is like a Red Scare... only... like... instead of communist red, it's like Sirian red?" he asked, earning a few scattered and cautious chuckles from his classmates at the obvious reference to the fact Sirians were red skinned. The Professor ignored the specist jab and addressed the question. "It is important to note there is sometimes a very fine line between vigilance and oppression. This current emergency exercise, or whatever it is, has not stripped any of us of our essential liberties and will not, unless we allow it to do so. It is important to note that our government has not used coercion or aggression as one of its instruments in enforcing this emergency exercise and..." the Professor started to explain when suddenly his eyes were drawn to the window. On the sports field outside, several students who were playing an impromptu game of North American football were suddenly running off the field in all directions, as a moment later, several large, black and gray projectiles hurtled downward from the sky above, trails of white smoke streaking across the bright blue sky. At first it looked like meteors, but several hundred feet before impact, the falling objects suddenly flared with orange and red flames erupting in a ring around lower half of the canister shaped objects as the Professor suddenly shook his head. "Those must be military jump pods," the teacher said. "They are way off course," he muttered before turning to his class. "Wait here." None of the students even seemed to register his departure, as the Professor left the classroom to head outside. Instead every set of eyes was staring out the window when the first jump pod suddenly thudded into the middle of the sports field, the long, dull gray canister shaped capsule thudding into the ground at a high speed despite the deployment of some sort of retro-rocket as the narrow, bottom end of the pod buried into the ground at least a half a meter. A split second later, a man sized panel blasted off the front of the pod with an eruption of several jets of air. Ben soon realized that he was out of his chair and standing out the window, along with most of the class, their eyes fixated on the silhouette of a man that emerged from the jump pod as immediately everyone gasped. These weren't Randesian jumptroopers, or even Human ones. They were Sirians. They could barely tell due to the fact the Sirian jumptrooper was almost covered head to toe in dark gray and black battle armor, layered over in horizontal strips across their torso with matching armored greaves, tassets and kneepads. Underneath the armor they were wearing citrine colored combat fatigues, with the sleeves rolled up revealing the trademark deep red skin of the Sirians on his exposed forearms. His face was completely encased in a dark gray helmet, with a built in black optical visor. But what was most fearsome, was the fact he was clutching in his hands the well known weapon of the Empires military. The Imperial Cycler. They were easily recognizable despite being alien weapons. Since Sirians were humanoid, they used essentially a vaguely similar pattern of guns, but the fat cigar shaped powerpack of the Sirian Cyclers was distinct, mounted in front of the trigger guard. And at the very tip of this Cycler, which looked like one of the cut down carbine versions, was a small black emitter that could unleash a nearly never ending barrage of fire from the compression rounds, small forcefield wrapped capsules of ionized air that on impact, had a tendency to explode violently. Low in penetration but high on impact and shock value. Everyone seemed to flinch as this jumptrooper waved his weapon over towards the window, with one student even reaching for his pistol, only to see the Sirian soldier was simply sweeping the area for threats as more and more Jump Pods started to impact the ground, and dispense Jumptrooper after Jumptrooper. Ben could almost feel a sick queasy feeling churn in his stomach as he suddenly realized what this had to be, but no one was willing to simply say it. An invasion. "Excuse me there!" suddenly erupted a familiar, but now infinitely more authoritative voice as the students turned their heads and saw Professor Wallace approaching the closest Jumptrooper. "What are you idiots doing?" the Professor then asked when the Sirian soldier turned to him, his Cycler carbine in a relaxed grip, aiming towards the ground. "Remain calm! Stay indoors!" suddenly shot back a digitized voice, drowning out whatever alien speech that was muffled by his facemask, as they all realized part of the helmet must've had some sort of translation apparatus built within. But the Professor did the completely opposite as he noticed these weren't misguided Randesian militiamen, but actual Sirian invaders. "This is the sovereign nation of Randesia, and I am placing all of you invaders under citizens arrest!" the Professor suddenly shot back in disgust, as his hand reached for the single action revolver in his holster. "Hostile! Hostile!" the Sirian barked under his mask, the words translating flawlessly into Randesian English so everyone else could hear. The Professor, ever so responsibly, had his revolver strapped into his holster and thus, by the time he thumbed off the leather strap of his holster, the first of a half dozen rounds tore into his body, the jackets of energy rupturing upon impact and causing the compressed ionized air from within to explode outward violently, tearing open flesh and organs, the shockwaves shattering bone and causing his insides to almost literally explode, spreading chunks of red gore and bits of flesh across the ground. "Freeedom..." Professor Wallace gasped, before falling to his knees for a moment, his eyes gazing upward at the multitudes of jump pods careening towards the ground, and with a final gasp, his broken body slumped face first into the dirt, the first casualty of the invasion. "We have a hostile landing zone!" another Jumptrooper called out before suddenly staggering as an invisible bolt of laser energy cut into the side of his armored leg from the campus security rifleman on the rooftop. A split second later, an explosion from above literally rocked the entire building as small chunks of debris and crimson tinged dust tumbled from above, cascading past the windows. "Die you red skinned fascists!" suddenly screamed a voice from within the classroom as one of the students, wearing a sports jersey, finally produced his handgun and opened fire, as his girlfriend, tugging on his shoulder and sobbing, told him to not to anything stupid. Several gunshots rang out, as the window shattered and the Sirian jumptrooper heard the crack of bullets zipping past him on either side. In a split second, the highly trained and veteran alien soldier honed in on the origin of the threat and without hesitation, opened fire on the lone gunman in the classroom on full automatic. "Get down!" Ben screamed, tackling Britney to the floor and reaching out, pulling Lando down as well when a split second later, dozens of compression rounds ripped through the classroom at head level, simultaneously shattering all of the windows of the classroom, multiplying the number of lethal projectiles flying across the interior of the room as glass shards and Sirian energy bullets cut down several students indiscriminately. "You fuck-," the student gunman continued to scream, clutching his pistol with both hands when a compression round thudded into his skull and then popped outward, cleanly blowing off the top of his head and spraying his now shrieking girlfriend with brains and skull fragments. "Von Wiesars Beard, they're trying to kill us all!" Ben cursed, as he ducked his head down and sprinted towards the exit, even though the gunfire had already stopped, at least in the classroom. "Follow me, we have to get out of here," he then shouted to his friends as Lando immediately scrambled after him. "Alexandra, we have to get out of here," Britney then said, as she saw one of her classmates, the girlfriend of the gunman whose head was exploded, sobbing nearby, still cradling his corpse despite the fact he was obviously dead, and she was covered in gore. "Come on! We have to get out of here!" Ben then shouted again as he sprang into the hallway, only to get knocked into a locker by a literal panicked stampede from every other classroom in the building, with everyone racing towards the same exit in a mad rush. Everyone was screaming as bookbags were dropped and people stumbled over them and each other, while gunfire rattled off outside. "They're killing us all!" someone managed to scream over the entire panicked tumult that was taking over the crowd as Ben, Lando and Britney soon realized they were literally being carried away by the terrified mass of people. "Take my... my hand..." Ben tried to scream, glancing over his shoulder as he caught a few glimpses of Britney behind him only for her to seemingly disappear within the mass rush of humanity. Realizing if he stopped, he might get trampled, Ben decided to go with the mad rush when his feet almost slipped on something and glancing down, he realized he was being pushed over the body of some poor person literally trampled to death. Just then the exit door were literally smashed wide open as the first ranks of students and faculty practically fell outward, pushed outward from behind so quickly that they lost their footing and spilled outward onto the concrete walkway outside, with some people being hurled against the railing as others tumbled down the steps. Ben continued to get pushed forward until he found himself literally pushed against the safety railing by the mass of humanity behind him and immediately his eyed bulged outward as he felt his groin crushed against the rail. Blindly, and somewhat enraged, he snapped his elbow backward, knocking the man behind him senseless but to no avail as he then struggled to pull himself over the railing and simply fell over the edge, flopping onto the ground and sighing in relief when a moment later, Britney fell on top of him. "Fuck!" he grunted, before realizing who it was that landed on him and taking her up in his arms, quickly rolled away only to find himself rolling up to the feet of a pair of Sirian combat boots. Terrified, Ben looked up, expecting to see the business end of a Cycler aimed at his face but instead saw the alien soldier standing there, literally scratching his helmet. "Calm down please. Stop panicking!" a digitized voice stated, emanating from the Jumptroopers helmet only to find his urgings obviously lost on the panicked stampede of students. Before Ben could do anything though, the Jumptrooper was suddenly tackled from the side by another student, his Cycler knocked from his grasp and skittering across the concrete. The student who tackled the Jumptrooper immediately set upon him, only to have his hand break on the stunned Sirians helmet with the first punch, as a second later, the Sirian smashed his reinforced elbow pad into his attackers jaw, stunning him momentarily and throwing him off. Ben started to rise to his feet, noticing the Cycler still on the ground when another student picked it up and aimed it at the Jumptrooper as he scrambled to his feet and without hesitation, squeezed the trigger. Recognizing the danger, Britney pulled Ben backwards, just out of the line of fire as a wild spray of compression rounds cut into the Jumptrooper as well as striking several civilians running past behind him, killing or maiming several of his fellow students. "Oops," the student said with an incredible understatment, finally taking his finger off the trigger as he realized he was hitting innocent bystanders. Before he could do anything else, a line of gunfire suddenly cleaved through his chest, cutting him down and even more bystanders fleeing nearby. Ben scrambled to his feet as soon as the shooting had stopped again, taking Britney's hand in his as they sprinted across the campus green, back towards their apartment and carefully stepping around the random people killed and injured by the various crossfires. Off to the side, they could see the parking lot was rapidly becoming a mess, as vehicles crashed into each other in the panicked rush to escape, while the Sirian soldiers seemed to be firing rounds into the powerplants and engine blocks of the various vehicles still parked, in an effort to disable them, all the while shouting in digitized translated voices for everyone to remain calm and return indoors. But no one was listening as Ben led Britney along the edge of the parking lot only to have Britney scream as she saw a bloodied and battered campus security guard, still clutching a broken baton, suddenly fall across their path as a moment later a jumptrooper with a slightly dented helmet and a cracked visor emerged from between two cars. He was wiping off the butt of his Cycler before glaring at the two of them through the now cracked visor built into its helmet. "Go home! Stay inside!" the heavily armored alien practically growled his real and utterly alien voice almost overwhelming the digitized translation and caused the both of them to run away with fright. Up ahead, another Sirian soldier was firing rounds into the engine blocks of a line of parked vehicles when it suddenly looked up and off to the side and saw the front end of another far larger car suddenly drove up an open parking space. The Sirian backpedaled his feet, raising his Cycler carbine and opened fire on the oncoming vehicle. He only managed to get off a brief burst before the angled and grated front end of an armored vehicle smashed into the armored form of the Jumptrooper and sent him flying backward through the air before landing several feet away, his body crumpled into a heap. Dumbstruck, both Ben and Britney looked at the vehicle as it easily jumped the curb and pulled out in front of them. It was one of the Sheriff Department all terrain armored cars. The thick armor plated drivers side door swung open a moment later as Hailey, the girl from the party last night, appeared behind the wheel. "Hurry up and get in!" she practically screamed at them, one hand still on the steering wheel of the car, her hand still on the door handle and a foot on the accelerator. Ben and Britney exchanged glances, each of them looking past the other at the chaos that was erupted across the campus when a couple errant energy bullets zipped over there heads. "Or you can exercise your rights as sovereign citizens and refuse my assistance," Hailey finally stated dismissively, as the two of them immediately bolted towards the rear door of the armored car, swung it open and piled in, with Ben pulling the door shut just as a burst of compression round harmlessly popped against the armored side of the vehicle. Hailey slammed onto the accelerator and started to drive.
Yes, hopefully that theme can be touched upon, as well as others when it comes to Libertarianism. Though I can't promise too deep of political philosophy, since this is essentially a mildly futuristic Red Dawn style scenario.
