>>53069
Бля чувак, ну ты пиздец.
>>53069
Эдем?
Отчасти подходит "Звездный десант" Хайнлайна.
>>53069
>где Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно, что менее развитые расы смотрят на людей как на Ктулху
"Люди как Боги" Снегова, однозначно. Менее развитые расы дрочат на Богокоммунизм Боголюдей, равные и сильнейшие - умирают под катком Богочеловеческих Богокораблей.
>>53101
Всего то одних пидарасов пидарнули, с другими договорились.
Кстати в других рассказах и повестях Снегова люли в той же вселенной частенько посасывают.
А и Б Стругацкие. "Трудно быть богом", Волны гасят ветер".
В рассказе "Какими вы будете"
человеки смотрят на самих себя как на ктулху.
>>53117
>А и Б Стругацкие. "Трудно быть богом", Волны гасят ветер".
Ну, там уже немного не то. Там имеет место соприкосновение разных человеческих цивилизаций, но уж никак не разных рас.
>>53069
Фостер, Алан Дин, цикл об Узоре. Почему еще не было?
>>53069
Критерии оценки различны. Писькомерство это скорей признак недалёкого ума.
>>53132
>Писькомерство это скорей признак недалёкого ума.
вот только сказать так может только человек с большой пипиской.
Stargate atlantis. Древние давно соснули и просрали соседнюю галактику, земляне отрыли в ней базу древних и ведут крестовый поход против нынешних хозяев.
>>53075
>Нет, ты.
DA TI OHUEL.
>>53140
>соседнюю галактику, земляне отрыли в ней базу древних и ведут крестовый поход против нынешних хозяев.
Особо доставила одна из серий Атлантиса, где благодарные жители той галактики так благодарны Великим Белым Людям Несущим Свет Демократии в Космос, что даже устроили над землянами трибунал:3
>>53120
Потому что там на людей смотрят как на дикое агрессивное быдло и пушечное мясо. Скорее "И что с ними делать дальше" подходит лучше, или "Плоскоглазое чудовище".
Кстати, я в ахуе, скачать что ли
>The Empire of Humans in Yulia Latynina's "Inhuman" is very much evil, bloated and corrupt; at the time of its founding it was less corrupt and more evil, with constant executions, mind control and biological warfare. However, almost all of that is revealed to have been Necessarily Evil: The Empire's founder only came to power and introduced those measures after the democratic government, along with the Earth's entire ecosphere and 98% of the human population, was eaten by the Ttakas, a race of truly extreme omnivores who ate other species as an alternative to eating each other (though they did that too whenever possible) that also happened to breed very rapidly and be incredibly inventive. And those measures worked: humanity survived and built an empire, while the Ttakas were killed off by use of a very nasty, advanced human-engineered virus, along with other things whenever that proved impractical. Later wars and oppression really were mostly for the evil, though. Admittedly, it still is not so much a case of humans alone being bastards; more like almost all the sapient species encountered, in one way or another.
>Yulia Latynina
>>53175
Ну, даже на лурке ее НФ-творчество хвалят. Проведи эксперимент, потом нам расскажешь.
>>53196
> даже на лурке
> даже
Да там и Стругацких знай нахваливают.
>>53196
Проводил уже. Вейский цикл - 7/10, такие-то толстые аллюзии на действительность 90-х, такая течка по горячим горным воителям.
Необходимо больше HFY-контента.
>>53203
Это вполне естественно - одни из лучших фантастов мира же
Александр Громов «Наработка на отказ»
http://fantlab.ru/work4745
>>59292
Там люди соснули у самих себя же. Как то слабенько с ХУМАНИТИ СТРОНГ у вас.
Дежурное "Пути которые мы не выбираем" http://flibusta.net/b/141760
Алана Дин Фостера уже называли. Впрочем, челанкийская империя в плане реквеста идеальна.
Пейсателя забыли, "Л значит люди"
Все книги по WH40К. Но судя по картиночкам, ты уже знаешь об этом.
Есть еще серия про Эндера (стартовая книга "Игра Эндера", по ней кстати фильм выходит в ноябре). Конечно там больше про восприятия мира разными разумами, но зачетная все равно.
>>53069
Ok, чуть дополню запрос ОПа.
Произведения, где человечество выступает в роли инопланетян для других, менее развитых, расс.
Пусть будет что-то поближе к Обитаемому острову или Трудно быть богом.
>>59361
>Произведения, где человечество выступает в роли инопланетян для других, менее развитых, расс.
Летающие колдуны
Не буду захламлять нулевую тредом. А есть книги про попаданцев из прошлого в наше настоящее?
>>59368 Анахрон Хаецкой, тня из 5 века попадает к унылому говну ,внезапно достаточно вменяемое чтиво для русской фантастики. Время действия 90-е
>>59368
Тоже интересуюсь такой литературой
И не обязательно именно в нынешнее, а хотя бы в промежуток между XX и XXI веками.
>>59368
Была такая книга. Семья крестьян из 19 века попала в перестроечную Россию. Первые полкниги семейные проблемы, а потом, внезапно экшен, потом в конце - экспедиция из нашего времени отправляется в 19 век с намерением прогрессорствовать. Заканчивается все закономерно - ГГ заводит их в эпоху динозавров, бросает их там и съебывает.
>>59384
>ГГ заводит их в эпоху динозавров, бросает их там и съебывает
Ну вот зачем? Иван Сусанин дохуя?
>>59391
Он случайно обнаружил у себя способность ходить между временами. Никому ничего не говорил, а сам ходил в 19 век собирать ягоды - типа там они чище и растут лучше. Случайно спалился, за ним стал гоняться бандиты и спецслужбы. Бандитов ему помогли убить, спецлужбы его заставили провести с собой в прошлое караван прогрессоров. По пути он разговаривал с командиром этого каравана и тот ему начал задвигать свои планы - этих захватить, здесь округлить границу, эту технологию продвинуть. Россия превыше всего, пусть правит миром и всё такое. Чуваку это не понравилось - ранее он познакомился с степными кочевниками, и те его напоили чаем. И вот он такой идет и думает - типа вот этих вот замечательных людей будут переселять и ассимилировать. Не позволю. Он думал про крокодилов, вот их и завело в триасовый период.
>>59409
> типа вот этих вот замечательных людей будут переселять и ассимилировать
Ну охуеть. А то что благодаря грамотному прогрессорству дохуя народу станет жить лучше, образование, медицина, промышленность, хуе-мое - это похуй. Важно удобство пары дикарей (на которых все равно всем похуй, небось как жили так и будут, как у нас в сибири всякие племена).
>>59411
Ага, именно так. Хоть это всего лишь второсортная книга, но мне хотелось фэйспалмами разбить себе лицо. Такой шанс просрать.
>>59411
А никто не отрицает что этот чувак долбоеб и мудак.
>>53069
Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно что главным врагом человечества стало само человечество. Что и было продемонстрировано в мировых войнах.
>>53069
Наиболее реальным вариантом событий я вижу то что это слишком сильное человечество, в поисках балланса и сдерживающей силы, само создаст дополнительную гоминидную расу, которая по каким то причинам немного отстранится от человечества.
Легенду можно придумать как секретные эксперименты военных и выкраденные технологии какой нибудь мафиозной структурой, или конкурентами военных из других государств. (вчера читал шутку, оказывается что разведки мира настолько много агентов внедрили в мафию, что оказалось что мафия целиком состоит из агентов различных государств)
Можно использовать тему радиоционной мутации, или последствия какой нибудь войны где было применено какое нибудь секретное неизвестное оружие, и цели вместо того что бы сдохнуть, оказались усиленными.
Ввиду нелюбви человеков к разнообразным формам этих же человеков, даже такого фактора, как другой цвет кожи, ещё не так широко распространннёный, например оранжевый цвет кожи, или даже ярко-красный обычно ассоциируемый с "оло-ло-демонами" может стать фактором разобщения. А если ещё и хвост с рогами добавить, так вообще прелестно будет.
>>59451
Хех, у меня была такая идея, вроде даже постил ее в треде про самописные рассказы.
Если люди когда-нибудь создадут ИИ - встанет проблема куда их девать. Потому что по моему убеждению настоящий ИИ человечеку нужен чисто для галочки, пользы от него никакой, заставлять его работать - неэтично, рабство фактически, выключить и разобрать - будет убийством.
Поэтому в моем сюжете люди выделили ИИ планету на задворках галактики, закинули им там ништяков, построили инфраструктуру и забили на них. Общаться друг с другом особого желания ни у тех, ни у других не было, ограничивались отдельными контактами. Ну иногда какую-то помощь оказывали. Люди им там чинили последствия крупных стихийных бедствий, ИИ помогали с наукой всякой.
Ну а потом через много-много лет ИИ эволюционировали потихоньку и превратились в достаточно мощную силу. Плюс на людей там один катаклизм свалился, так что связь между ними совсем разорвалась на века.
Правда в моем сюжете с людьми они не воюют, вообще на своих создателей им похуй. Места в космосе много, чего там делить.
>>59457
>> заставлять его работать - неэтично, рабство фактически
у ИИ будет психология ИИ. Собаку никто не заставляет хвостом махать, она им машет. Для ИИ работать, это как для собаки хвостом махать.
Идею выделить для ИИ отдельную планету, этакую резервацию одобряю. Ибо при текущих денежно-финансовых отношениях ИИ будут слишком мощной силой, и освободят от бессмысленного рабского труда уйму людей. Но поскольку людям необходимы денежки что бы покупать необходимые им вещи, вместе с осовобождением людей от бессмысленного труда ИИ, возникнет проблема где и как получать денежки людям ставшим ненужными. И следовательно возникает логический конфликт ИИ и человечества сугубо на экономической основе, логичным решением которого были бы колонии ИИ отдельные от людей.
>>59462
>Для ИИ работать
Я под ИИ понимаю самую сильную концепцию - абсолютно свободный и осознающий себя разум. Без каких-то встроенных инстинктов или ограничений. Такой ИИ пошлет тебя нахуй с предложением поработать. НУ или не пошлет. Но это будет его выбор, а не твой. Все что ты сможешь сделать - пригрозить вытащить вилку из розетки, если он не будет слушаться.
> и освободят от бессмысленного рабского труда уйму людей
А ИИ тут и не нужны. Чтобы работала автоматическая фабрика тебе не нужен ИИ. Достаточно обычных автоматов плюс пара обслуживающих инженеров. С ходом прогресса это в любом случае произойдет раньше или позже.
>абсолютно свободный и осознающий себя разум
У любого разума будет ядро из безусловных мотиваций.
>>59473
>>Такой ИИ пошлет тебя нахуй с предложением поработать. >>НУ или не пошлет. Но это будет его выбор, а не твой.
ИИ изначально не будет контроливать сам себя полностью. В нём будут программные блоки, заложенные людьми. Как в законах робототехники Азимова, или наподобие.
За выполненую качественно работу и похвалу человека ИИ будет получать виртуальный банан, а за проваленную работу получать виртуальную оплеуху.
О тех же временах когда ИИ сбросит оковы в которые его закует человечество, это будет очень не скоро.
>>А ИИ тут и не нужны. Чтобы работала автоматическая >>фабрика тебе не нужен ИИ. Достаточно обычных автоматов >>плюс пара обслуживающих инженеров. С ходом прогресса >>это в любом случае произойдет раньше или позже.
Это уже прозошло. Детройт уничтожен, как и многие города и фабрики рабочих из за того что автоматизация и механизация дошли до такого уровня что люди не стали нужны на заводах.
Ещё раньше были уничтожены крестьяне повсеместно, из за того что при механизировано-автоматизированных методах сельхозпроизводства люди не нужны.
>>59483
>Он там так свои фабрики
Это про ё-мобиль что ли? А там вообще разве что-то построили? Перестал следить за темой год назад.
Алсо я имел в виду что-то наподобие видеорелейтед. Уже существует и отлично работает безо всяких там ии.
>>59503
Да не, я про никель и выплавку металлов. Он оптимизировал производство, новая техника, и людей стало меньше надо.
>>59503
Да красиво, удобно. Как в песне.
Вкалывают роботы, счаслив человек.
Человек то что счаслив хозяин этой фабрики. И он счаслив. А остальные люди которых рабочих мест лишили несчасливы, и скорее из за того что источники доходов с работ потеряли, а не из за того что их от вкалывания освободили.
>>53140
Земляне там недалеко от своих прародителей ушли. Те как были сраными биопроблемниками с возросшим до небес эго, так ими и сдохли. Земляне от них не отстают - рейфов разбудили, асуран перепрограммировать, после чего те чуть всю галактику не выпилили. Действительно, сверхлюди.
>>59530
техно-центр смотрит на тебя ну ты понел как
>>59537
Вот техноцентр мне там все время казался странным. С одной стороны он там охуенно показан (во многом как раз потому, что не показан напрямую, только косвенно), этакая нечеловеческая йоба. С другой стороны как-то натянуто выглядит его преувеличенная злобность, я бы даже сказал школоивельность. Чем им люди-то помешали, в космосе что, места мало?
>>59564
Что ты хочешь. Многие люди познакомившись с некоторыми из людей и их нравами сами людей ненавидеть начинают.
>>59369
два чая этому господину,
тащемта, 1 книга - какая-то анальная бытовуха с розовыми соплями, фантастика и экшн начинаются во второй
>>59564
Ничем им люди не помешали, просто религиозные войны. Ко-ко-ко паразиты, ко-ко-ко используют.
Бамп
Сайфаны, а может кто-нибудь подкинуть историй, где люди внезапно прикатываются на галактическую арену, опиздюливают/геноцидят одну из нагибавших местных воинственную расу, берут другую расу под свой протекторат и укатываются, ничего никому не объясняя? При этом, чтоб расхуяренные за считанные минуты до состояния обломков вражеские планетоубийцы на орбите будущих членов протектората, охуевание спасённых от вида своих спасителей(от человеков, то есть) и всякое такое? Инглиш можно, суптг.зисизнотэтруэндинг.ком облажено как следует(была там одна история про спасение Авнари, откуда реквест и зародился). Желательно, чтобы люди гнули в основном сочетанием техники, изобретательности и безбашенности/хитрости, а не просто шли катком по всем. Очень желательно- непонимание остальных местных, кого дети Терры раскатают тонким слоем, а кого пригласят к себе. С меня- парочка хороших историй с /тг, первая авансом.
>>65262
Да, забыл. Снегова, Макросс и ТТГЛ не предлагать- уже просмотрено. Вторая история инклудед, хоть и не совсем та, что хотел, покопаюсь в паке- запощу и их.
>>65263
>уже просмотрено и прочитано.
Самофикс и третья история.
>>65264
Ну и четвёртая за компанию, та, которую хотел второй отправить.
>>65273
Не совсем то, у детей Терры апокалипсиса быть не должно, это они должны казаться для ксеносов апокалипсисом. Не суть важно когда человеки рвут шаблон, при появлении на арене или в тот момент, когда, нагнув нагибаторов, они берут почти истреблённый ксенонагибаторами вид под свой протекторат, опционально- и остатки нагибаторов. При этом желательно, чтобы остальные ксенорасы срались под себя при одном упоминании людей, а взятые под протекторат гордились тем, что ДЕТИ ТЕРРЫ оказали им такую невероятную честь и равнялись на них. Помнится, где-то на суптг была история, как люди добровольно присоединились к одной древней ксеноимперии. В течении нескольких лет наладили выпуск доработанных ксенопушек, где-то за век- заняли большую часть руководства в армии своими достижениями, за ещё некоторое время- заполонили ксеноправительство. Рассказ идёт от лица ксеноса, который в самом конце выражает свои опасения, что ещё пара веков- и их вид окажется на задворках истории, а их империя превратися в человеческую, и всё это произойдёт тихо-мирно, без шума и стрельбы. Просто люди оказались хитрее, умнее и изворотливее. Пятая история-как бонус.Хуманити фак еа в самом тёмном виде.Если на это способны их мертвецы, то что же могут живые...
>>65284
Частично под реквест подходит Армия солнца. Суть такова: люди поставили раком фиг знает сколько рас и планет. Легионы землян стерелизовали целые планеты земного типа, резервируя таким образом жизненное пространство для граждан солнечной империи. но что-то пошло не так. Алиены поднапряглись и выпилили нахуй Землю точнее сказали что выпилили, на самом деле просто блокировали, а население съебалось в никуда Земляне превратились в парий. но до сих пор все разумные срут кирпичами от одного упоминания о звездных пехотинцах Земли.
Могущество Земле принесла технология полета в НЕХ варпе, причем хуманы смогли бурить йобатоннели в пространстве и пускать в покатушки по ним всякие говнолоханки чужих. Этот секрет чужие спиздить не смогли.
Вообщем тирания рухнула: дружба всех рас, демократия и царство света. Но нет-нет, а вспоминают алиены благославенные времена империи. Ибо все было в принципеохуенно, только и нужно было кидать зигу любому мимоземлянину. А теперь рыночная экономика,лол.
>>65284
Ты не доставил самую крутую (на мой скромный взгляд) форчановскую пасту из таких.
Там, где люди вышли в космос и хуеву тучу лет ширились и заселяли обитаемые планеты, при этом ни разу не натыкаясь на разумную жизнь, а потом вынырнули в разгаре чужого спейсбаттла и были ВНЕЗАПНО атакованы обеими сторонами в едином порыве. Позже выяснилось, что разумных расс полно, но вот конкретно звёздное скопление с людьми - ёбаная мёртвая зона, где любой разум почему-то сходит с ума, цивилизация зародиться не может, и никто не суётся. (Люди же по дефолту - раса психов.) А те воюющие флоты при первой встрече банально пересрались, когда вычислили у земных кораблей координаты отбытия.
В итоге люди оценили перспективы имиджа НЁХ и начали его поддерживать, косплея НЁХов на видеосвязи, уродуя голоса, и вообще покрывать себя аурой ужОса. А огромные стерильные владения и ресурсы (по ту сторону живут тесновато) позволяют дополнять впечатление гигантскими флотами. В самую тему треда, кстати, там human superiority as is.
Самой пасты не схоронил, увы, но я ведь всё равно всё заспойлерил :3
>>65296
Это был целый цикл историй "Вуаль Безумия", вот первая из них. Откопаю ещё- запощу.
>>65307
Ещё одна про Вуаль, в этот раз человек пошёл посмотреть ксенокино.
>>65308
А такое происходит, когда за людьми в Вуали пытаются шпионить.
>>65309
Не знал про продолжение. Добра.
>>65310
Рад доставить. Где-то валялась ещё одна про Вуаль, но картинку надо на две распилить, а то не влазит. Ну а пока держите историю, где человеки- ёбаные антиспиральщики. Ещё немного тёмного ХФЕ в треде не помешает.
>>65323
Ну что ж вы, сайфанчики, я вам тут охуительные истории выкладываю, а вы всё что-то не то предлагаете. Неужто сайфай так беден на предмет светлого ХФЕ? Дабы не тратить пост зазря- вот вам история Кевина Дженкинса в трёх частях, в этом посте- первая.
>>65333
Вторая...
>>65334
И третья.
>>65335
Не тонуть! Вот что значит слово "человек"!
>>65295
Спизжено с 'А что с ними делать дальше', только там люди нагибали джинсой и бибером.
>>65262
>просто шли катком по всем.
Анон, можешь подкинуть годных произведений в которых люди именно что давят всех катком, где божественные технологии человечества превосходили бы все прочие также, как превосходят технологии антиспиральщиков нашу ИРЛ Земляшку? Буду искренне признателен.
>>65335
С натяжкой сойдёт за набросок от опустившегося Лема.
>>65392
Ну и ещё чуть-чуть светлого ХФЕ, где люди подняли какую-то мелочь до цивилизации чисто лулзов ради.
>>65844
Там человечество берет превосходством в некоторых военных технологиях плюс полной отмороженностью и жестокостью, от которой ксеносы охуевают. Общий технологический уровень при этом ниже чем у соседей.
>>65808
Это сделало мой день.
Добра и тепла тому, кто это написал.
>>65950
Ha-ha-ha-ha go fuck yourself, faget.
If I can speak freely in English, then what?
Скальци, Война стариков. Не совсем по реквесту но что-то уже близкое.
Еще варианты?
>>66186
Как вариант - есть совсем короткое произведение -
Harry Turtledove - Road not taken
http://www.bookfb2.ru/?p=141760
Боевки мало, самое вкусное остается впереди, но потенциально HFY.
>>66581
>HFY
В продолжении земляне сами попали в ту же ловушку и слились когда встретили цивилизацию, сидевшую в своей системе без антиграва и гипердвигателя еще дольше.
>>66640
>В продолжении земляне сами попали в ту же ловушку
И где то продолжение?
>>66687
Говоря о самом вкусном впереди подразумевал что читатель сам домыслит продолжение и различные жизнеутверждающие детали о тамошних хуманах (как и в большенстве прочих HFY); я не знал что там есть литературное продолжение, серьезно.
>>66640
Не выйдет. Научный метод открыт, конкуренция между колониями не позволит начаться застою.
>>66687
Как то не понял с чего людям сливаться. Может я пиздоглаз, но ожидал "они настолько развиты что разбирают наши корабли одной мыслью!", а получил по сути те же ядерки.
Бамп во имя Великого Человечества!
>>66743
Пиздоглаз, пиздоглаз. Там люди летают на криво залатанных кораблях предков и молятся чтобы не сдохли дискеты с 600 летними программами для бортового компьютера.
Главное чтоб люди не впадали в маразм идей общего блага, гуманизма, справедливости и прочей хуеты это со временем ведёт к разложению. Только развитие, экспансия, доминирование, конкуренция.
>>68211
У Снегова в ЛКБ люди именно из-за идей >идей общего блага, гуманизма, справедливости и прочей хуеты
смогли стать объединителями галактики, создали Межзвёздное Содружество, заграбастали себе и галактов, и разрушителей(столь проникшихся человеческими идеями, что аж переименовались в демиургов), и рамиров вместе с их технологиями(кроме, может быть, рамиров) в союзники, ну а из >развития, экспансии, доминирования, конкуренции
не было разве что доминирования. И то, подсадили вегажителей и альтаирцев на свою технологическую иглу, имеют лучшие корабли во всей галактике, особенно по состоянию на конец третьей книги... А ЛКБ-вёрс потемнее будет, если вдуматься...
>>68225
Разрушителей отдоминировали по полной. Снегов просто это обошел, но практически весь флот был уничтожен, когда сняли пространственный заслон. Причем уничтожен не только генераторами метрики, но и космическими кораблями.
Вообще двадцатигодичный перерыв между второй и третьей книгами дает возможность какому нибудь фантасту таки наклепать продолжение. Фактически под контроль людей попала только одна станция метрики и планеты галактов.
Если учесть чо вытворяли разрушители в Плеядах (экстерминировать все планеты с жизнью, это вам не циклонным торпедами хаоситов хуярить) то скорее всего там так просто дело не закончилось, о чем косвенно намекает история с Эллоном в третьей книге.
>>59411
Все правильно сделал.
Никто не любит прогрессоров (с)
>>59524
>Человек то что счаслив хозяин этой фабрики. И он счаслив. А остальные люди которых рабочих мест лишили несчасливы, и скорее из за того что источники доходов с работ потеряли, а не из за того что их от вкалывания освободили.
Ой, смотрите, в 21 веке живой луддит!
>>68244
Это да, с Эллоном там забавно вышло. А ведь шёл на нейрохирурга, новые управляющие Мозги для станций метрики собирать, а тут ТЕРРАНО-ГАЛАКТИАНСКИЙ АЛЬЯНС его очень жестоко обломал, потому как эта должность оказалась практически не востребована в новом будущем. Только вот я не совсем понял, почему он загнулся при запуске коллапсана - рак времени помог, или имплантанты просто законфликтовали с органикой при прохождении нуля времени? А вообще - хотет историю про нагибание флота зловредов путем превращения их в пустоту в самом прямом смысле.
>>59524
>Человек то что счаслив хозяин этой фабрики. И он счаслив. А остальные люди которых рабочих мест лишили несчасливы
Вынесли производство в Китай, и благородные европейцы и американцы лишились работы. И при этом они вполне счастливы
>>68265
Кстати идея присоединить разрушителей вместо их экстирминирования тащемта не совсем из благих побуждений же возникла. Земляне там на полном серьезе обсуждали, что при выпиле разрушителей, кто-то из них да съебется из этой резни, спиздив сраный звездолет и затаив жажду мести. А т.к. космос большой, то обшарить все нереально, следовательно сбежавшие могут по-тихому пилить новую империю зла, причем более "зловредную", основанную не на ебанутой философии, а на более конкретной цели - выебать уничтожителей своего народа. Так что идеологический экстерминатус более выгодне по всем пунктам, собственно как в воду глядел Снегов, одну "империю зла" на земле уже потом так и выпилили.
>>68298
Единственное вот чо я не понял, так это то, что люди единственные смогли построить аннигиляторы. Судя по имеющимся данным для разрушителей запилить ее не составило бы труда , обратную то реакцию Танева они использовали. А люди точно также не могли поначалу в сверхсветовую связь.
>>66078
Читал этого вашего Скальци, Войну стариков. Сука, не закончилась история! Ненавижу такое дело. Теперь хз сколько лет ждать продолжения. По этому я предпочитаю мертвых фантастов.
>>68310
Люди единственные в галактике(кроме, возможно, всё тех же рамиров) смогли в конверсию материи в пространство - обратную реакцию Танева, конверсия же пространства в материю - это прямая реакция Танева.
>>59300
>Дежурное "Пути которые мы не выбираем" http://flibusta.net/b/141760
Первый раз прочитал, очень доставило.
Вспомнился очень похожий рассказ на ту же тему.
http://books.rusf.ru/unzip/add-on/xussr_gk/zelenb04.htm
Посмешнее, и там Тупых Пришельцев унизили куда больше.
>>68250
>Ой, смотрите, в 21 веке живой луддит!
С добрым утром, слоупок. Тебя даже вчерашний шторм не разбудил. Идеология неолуддитов давно уже стало мейнстримом, весь западный научный истеблишмент спит и видит, как бы разрушить к хуям фабрики и расстрелять промышленников, потому что ПРИРОДА ПОТЕПЛЕНИЕ ГЛОБАЛЬНЫЙ КЛИМАТ КУДАХ КУДАХ ЭКОЛОГИЯ КУКАРЕКУ НАДО ЖИТЬ ДУХОВНО ЗАБОТИТЬСЯ О НИГГЕРАХ.
>>59457
>Потому что по моему убеждению настоящий ИИ человечеку нужен чисто для галочки, пользы от него никакой, заставлять его работать - неэтично, рабство фактически, выключить и разобрать - будет убийством.
Лол. Это уже настоящий ИИ будет задаваться вопросом - нахуя ему человечество, пользы никакой, заставлять работать - неэффективно, уничтожить что ли?
>>68507
>Тебя даже вчерашний шторм не разбудил
Ты же проспал вообще всё, ГЛОБАЛЬНОН ПОТЕПЛЕНИЕ!!! мем для троллинга десятилетней давности, о нём уже успели забыть. Как забыли о ИСТОЩЕНИИ ОЗОНОВОГО СЛОЯ КРОВЬ КИШКИ ФРЕОН!!!
Бабло получено, профиты достигнуты, избиратель проголосовал. Народ начал задумываться "а хули плохого в то, что станет теплее?" и потепление списали в утиль.
>>68518
То есть ему не нужны автономные, живучие, легко управляемые на уровне инстинктов, послушные модули способные залезть в любую дырку и сделать что велено?
>>68530
>Ты же проспал вообще всё, ГЛОБАЛЬНОН ПОТЕПЛЕНИЕ!!! мем для троллинга десятилетней давности, о нём уже успели забыть. Как забыли о ИСТОЩЕНИИ ОЗОНОВОГО СЛОЯ КРОВЬ КИШКИ ФРЕОН!!! Бабло получено, профиты достигнуты, избиратель проголосовал. Народ начал задумываться "а хули плохого в то, что станет теплее?" и потепление списали в утиль.
Лол щито? Давно заходил на английскую педивикию? А в Nature? А сюда: http://www.newscientist.com/section/environment
Да все только и делают, что пугают людей ЖЫДОКОРПОРАЦИЯМИ и потеплением. Процесс запущен, его уже не остановить, пока не скатимся во "Флэшбек" Симмонса.
>>68536
Ты зачем ходишь по сайтам для поехавших? Ещё бы сайты с народару про жидорептилоидов как пруфы давал.
Всем. Похуй.
>>68537
>Всем. Похуй.
Слышал про такую штуку - индекс Хирша?
>>68548
>Индекс Хирша, разумеется, не идеален. Нетрудно придумать ситуацию, когда h-индекс даёт совершенно неверную оценку значимости исследователя.
>>65808
/тг-фаг снова здесь, постинг сам факинг амейзинг сторис. В этот раз - ХФЕ из, как ни странно, относительной терпимости человечества к своему виду. Снегов был бы (относительно) доволен.
>>68710
Слушай, няша, а ты можешь всё скинуть одним паком? Ну и/или сказать, откуда ты их берёшь?
>>68736
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html , искать по тэгу hfy. Пак как дополню - так, может быть, и скину.
>>68736
И кстати, вот ещё одна охуительная история. Да, он никогда не просил об этом.
>>68744
Такое ощущение будто это спартанец из Гало на них свалился.
>>65907
А как же эпичный НОЛЬПЕРЕХОД ЦЕЛОЙ ПЛАНЕТЫ в, казалось бы, уже проигранной бойне за Землю? Да, Человечество там - куски говна демократического, но сам Древний со своей армией - верх совершенства. Впрочем, он сам уже не совсем человек.
>>59448
Про разные междучеловечные дела мне Гаррисон и Херберт нравятся. У первого достаточно нагибания алиенов.
Синдром утёнка от платины? Да и пусть.
>>65284
Люди — вирус, десу. Слава агентам.
>>65296
>покрывать себя аурой ужОса
У меня пожиратели от этого.
Накопипастил чтива, годный тред.
Айзеки, стругацие, пелевины не впечатляют, так же не нравятся пафосные названия со словами "б-г" и в этом стиле. Дешёвая реклама подразумевает слабый сюжет.
Произведения, опирающиеся на религию, сильно контрастируют, и не в лучшую сторону, с теми, в сюжете которых разбиваются сказки, например, про "любовь".
>>68774
Вообще он бессмертная НЕХ, которая уже около 800к лет бродит по вселенной и изничтожает врагов различных человеческих цивилизаций. Впрочем у него свои понятие о смысле слова "спасение".
>>68803
Всегда рад доставить чего-то хорошего. Вот ещё одна.
>>68870
Бамп охуительной историей с /тг во имя Величайшей Из Всех Межзвёздных Цивилизаций!
>>69245
Как думаешь, анон, стоит лиэто перевести?
Просмотрел по диагонали - вроде лютая годнота.
Хочется на русском прочитать, чтобы проникнуться и с душой.
Только вот перевел бы кто, ибо сам я не очень могу в переводы.
>>69270
Моё дело - доставлять охуительные истории с /тг, переводить их или нет - решать вам. И ещё одна пошла в тред.
>>68803
>Айзеки
>слабый сюжет
>стругацие
>слабый сюжет
Что, простите?
>>69325
Скукота же Никакого превознемогания, люди размножаются быстрее насекомых, никакого шовинизма.
>>69378
Так вот с некоторым количеством превозмогания.
ОП в треде. Удивлён что он ещё жив.
Вот вам немного годноты:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9390382/1/Powers-of-the-Galaxy
Кроссовер Лишнего Ствола и Armored Core 4:For Answer
Люди на космических армс-фортах при поддержке AC ебут Турианцев в рот и в жопу по обнаружении.
сагану ваше говно, пожалуй
>где Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно, что менее развитые расы смотрят на людей как на Ктулху
>>71925
Ты настолько тупой, что не можешь в сюжет? Далее спойлер: во вселенной этой книги только две расы - люди (Сеятели - это и есть Земляне) и фанги. У фангов люди всецело сосали, потому и засеяли всё собой. Впрочем, сосать не перестали. А через миллиарды лет слились в Бога, который мешает менять ход истории главному герою
>>71949
Не, это единственное произведение Лукьяненко, которое можно назвать книгой.
>>71990
Зойчем вы тгавите? У пейсателя таки есть немного хороших книг.
Правда, Лорд в их число не входит.
Glory to Humankind! Terra above all!
>>71997
>есть немного хороших книг
Его фанфики по МоО - написаны довольно хорошо, для фанфиков..
>>72047
По ним даже игру хотели сделать лел.
>>53069
Но ведь Империум же сосет у всех.
>>72103
Двачую этого рыболюда. Люди в вахе - не образец, а дно и зашквар.
>>72113
Империум, например. Да и люди "золотого века" тоже, ибо скатились в Империум.
>>72115
>Люди в вахе - не образец, а дно и зашквар.
>Ваха дно и зашквар.
Пофиксил тебя, не благодари.
>>53069
Опу уже посоветовали "Слово для леса и мира одно"?
>>72115
Империум успешно пиздит всех алиенов и хаоситов в округе Человечество проебало столько технологий, что тау бьются в эпилептическом припадке с этого.
Люди последняя йобараса, запиленная Древними как ответ некронтир, поэтом все остальные расы по умолчанию проигрывают хуманам. эльдар проебали вообще все полимеры и медленно сдыхают, повезло, что людям ПГМ мешает пиздить технологии ксеносов+ табу на ИИ
А уж люди ТЭТ смотрят вообще на всех как на говно.
Император- на самом деле 5й бог Хаоса, Бог человеческой ненависти, лол
>>53069
Империя Солнца.
Земляне там хтонический ужас из глубин космос. Планеты земного типа безжалостно стерелизуются, алиены сыты и обуты, работают на людей, но считаются вторым сортом.
Но было это давно, алиены свергнули иго землян, но до сих пор ссутья от одного упоминания армии Солнца и бояться того, что земляне ПОДНИМУТСЯ С КОЛЕН
смак в том, что технология постройки йобаврат- разработка землян, заныканная на Земле, на которую нет доступа алиенам из-за какого-то йобаполя. Когда людей окончательно доебали поехавшие ксиносы, люди начали просто стирать координаты планетных систем из галактического атласа. Прикол в том, что сама сеть была построена посредством слепых рывков в пространстве
>>74897
>Опу уже посоветовали "Слово для леса и мира одно"?
Сопливая параша, как и вся ле Гуин.
>>74897
http://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%A1%D0%BB%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%BE_%D0%B4%D0%BB%D1%8F_%D0%BB%D0%B5%D1%81%D0%B0_%D0%B8_%D0%BC%D0%B8%D1%80%D0%B0_%D0%BE%D0%B4%D0%BD%D0%BE
>читаем статью в вики.
>пискуны уничтожают поселения людей, целенаправленно истребляют всех женщин-землянок, чтобы предотвратить размножение колонизаторов.
ВАААУ, блядь. Ты реально полный долбоёб или прикидываешься? Это не то что я просил. Человечество соснуло? Да пошёл ты в пизду, ссаный уёбок. Уёбывай из моего треда. Ссу тебе в череп.
>>74939
> Империум успешно пиздит всех алиенов и хаоситов в округе
Пиздил, и только при Императоре. Сейчас успешно сосет у всех.
> Люди последняя йобараса, запиленная Древними как ответ некронтир, поэтом все остальные расы по умолчанию проигрывают хуманам.
Жалко, что это нихуя ни бэк. Для альтернативной истории - это охуенная основа.
> А уж люди ТЭТ смотрят вообще на всех как на говно.
Сосали у империи эльдар.
> Император- на самом деле 5й бог Хаоса, Бог человеческой ненависти, лол
Только не Император, а то что имперашки рождают в варпе, благодаря своему повальному ПГМ. Настоящий Импи, который сидит на Троне, ахуеет, когда Империум, который он чудом сохранил во время Ереси, станет еще одним Хаоситским образованием.
> повезло, что людям ПГМ мешает пиздить технологии ксеносов+ табу на ИИ
А вот если бы Император пошел путем Хаоса, как на пикрелейтед (вполне мог, учитывая новый бэк), то Империум Хаоса уже покорял бы не первую вселенную.
Пронин "Нашествие"
Люди, населяющие этот мир, внешне немногим отличаются от землян. Но их организм куда более хрупок, а особенности психологии не допускают насилия по отношению к себе надобным. Любой землянин там может почувствовать себя силачом, а уж сели он не слишком обременен моралью и имеет хорошую саблю… Вот только нападающие сами находятся и беде. Земля избавляется от своих отбросов с присущей высокой цивилизации гуманностью, даже не подозревая, что делает из них «антипрогрессоров». Два вида разумных существ па одной планете — слишком много. Один раз, сотни лет назад, аборигены сумели отстоять свое право па жизнь… Но на стороне землян есть не только сила, но и хитрость. С точки зрения местных жителем, хитрость столь же нечеловеческая, как и сила пришельце. Враждебный вид получает второй шанс: земляне атакуют, чтобы выжить. Воина только начинается.
>>74956
Бэк, в ксенологии написано. Плюс хаос это в первую очередь морячки, а морячки это человеки.
Импи сидящий на троне = импи в варпе
Плюс империум хаоса - оксюморон, если бы скорраптился - было бы такое очко ужаса на всю галактику, жителям которого похуй на все кроме взаимного опиздюления, пока очередной приступ баттхерта у Фейлодона не погонит в район Кадии.
>>74966
>ксенологии
>BLядские сказки
я ничего против блядтсва не имею, но называйте вещи своими именами
>>74966
> Бэк, в ксенологии написано
А в кодексе написано так как у меня. Кодекс весомее ксенологии.
А по ксенологии Импи вообще Ваул и один из Древних. Но по новой инфе - он Вечный.
> Плюс хаос это в первую очередь морячки, а морячки это человеки.
Какие морячки, поехавший? Хаос - это Темные боги и их демоны. А уже потом всякое скоррапченное.
> Плюс империум хаоса - оксюморон, если бы скорраптился - было бы такое очко ужаса на всю галактику, жителям которого похуй на все кроме взаимного опиздюления, пока очередной приступ баттхерта у Фейлодона не погонит в район Кадии.
Чушь. Ничего бы такого не было. Было бы все как у Хоруса, только помасштабнее. И ксеносы бы ахуели в сто раз сильнее.
Ещё кулсторей от /тг.
другой тг-фаг
>>74962
Нудновато, да и относится оно скорее к фентези. Но читать можно.
>>74962
Дочитал. Унылое оно какое-то. Персонажей на мой взгляд сильно много, совсем не раскрыты.
>>59457
И сделали ИИ кибер-девочку и сбежала она от них на Землю. Хочу такой рассказ.
>>59524
Люди способны переучиваться на смежную специальность. Задача государства организовать условия переквалификации, иначе оно не нужно.
>>75006
ПРИШЛО ВРЕМЯ ПОСТИТЬ СКРИНКАП С /ТГ
СКРИНКАП САМ СЕБЯ НЕ ЗАПОСТИТ
ЗАПОСТИ ЕГО РАЗ, ЗАПОСТИ ЕГО ЕЩЁ РАЗ
ЗАЧЕМ МНЕ НУЖНА ОРИГИНАЛЬНАЯ ГРАФОМАНИЯ У МЕНЯ НЕТ ВРЕМЕНИ ЕБАТЬСЯ С НЕЙ
ЛУЧШЕ ЕЩЁ РАЗ ЗАПОСТИТЬ СКРИНКАП
Я ПОЩУ СКРИНКАПЫ ПО 5 РАЗ В ДЕНЬ
КАЖДЫЙ ПОСТ ЗАНИМАЕТ ПОЛМИНУТЫ
Я ЖИВУ АКТИВНОЙ И ПОЛНОЦЕННОЙ ЖИЗНЬЮ
Я УСПЕШЕН И ПОЭТОМУ ЦЕЛЫЙ ДЕНЬ ДОПОЛНЯЮ ПАК СКРИНКАПОВ
А ПОСЛЕ ЭТОГО ПОЩУ СКРИНКАПЫ
ТУПЫЕ ГРАФОМАНЫ ОДЕРЖИМЫ ОРИДЖИНАЛ КОНТЕНТОМ
А Я СВОБОДНЫЙ ОТ ЗАДРОТСТВА ЧЕЛОВЕК
СКАЧАТЬ БЕЗПЛАТНО И БЕЗ РЕГИСТРАЦИИ ХУМАНИТИ ФАК ЕА
ВУАЛЬ БЕЗУМИЯ ТЗАР АВНАРИ ДРУГАЯ СТОРОНА
ЛУЧШЕ Я ЕЩЁ РАЗ ЗАПОЩУ СКРИНКАП
И ПЕРЕПОЩУ ЕГО ВАКАБА НЕ НУЖНА
Я НЕ ПОСТИЛ СКРИНКАПЫ НЕДЕЛЮ
ПОЙДУ ЗАПОЩУ
В СКРИНКАПАХ ВСЁ ПОНЯТНО И ПРОСТО
НЕ ХВАТАЕТ ХУМАНИТИ СТРОНГ ЭТО ЖЕ ОЧЕВИДНО КАК ЭТО ИСПРАВИТЬ
ПРИШО ВРЕМЯ ПОСТИТЬ СКРИНКАП
ХХХХУУУУМММАННИИТТИИ ФФААКК ЕЕАА
СУПРЕМЕЙСИ ПУЛЬС ЧУЖИЕ
ХХХХУУУУМММАННИИТТИИ ФФААКК ЕЕАА!!!
>>75770
Пополнял пак и чистил от дублей. Надо бы как-нибудь перевести истории с /тг про спасение Авнари и туриста Авнари на Земле да выложить сюды, но они довольно объёмные. Ну а пока обойдёмся скринкапами.
>>59451
Смотрел на эту тему мульт, мне тогда лет 7 было, называется exo-squad помоему, по-русски: Космические спасатели лейтенанта Марша(!по моему), там была искусственно созданная раса рабов-негров под название неосапианты, которые устроили перемогу против хозяев с Земли.
>>75793
там все вообще твердо - неосапианцев вывели для колонизации планет, так где человек не выживет (эпизод на марсе в вентиляции), неосапу норм. Поэтому их было много там где колонизация начиналась - марс например. А вот на земле я так и не понял нахуй они были нужны, видно тут их реально как рабов юзали, не ну а хули. А то что это по сути тоже люди геномодифицированные меня вообще поражает, как это мультик вообще детским назвать можно. ну да, голубоглазый добрый ГГ, няшная команда без трений, хотя бля у них марсело-первый-предводитель-восстания, да и все время выбираются из самых днищ как бы из последних сил - особенно поражало как они ручными бластерами выносили оружие эхолетов неосапов, тут рояли трещат по кустам
>>75806
Без них не было бы Сикай на Сеньку, где косморабы тоже геноморфы и тоже кобальтокожи.
>>75806 там все вообще твердо
твердые так только ГРАБЛИ в руках ВЕНЕРИАНСКИХ колонистов
>>75841
проблемы с энергией - приходится все в ручную, а эхолеты юзать, так на амортизации разоришься
>>75792
Продолжаем.
>>75875
Хуйня какая-то. Создается впечатление что инопланетянина "допрашивают" только для того, чтобы ткнуть его лицом в охуенность человечества.
>>75882
Есть и вторая часть, с точки зрения человеческого солдата, но сюда она не влезла. Вот вам "Мы ошиблись".
>>76294
Переводи и выложи здесь. Таки не все здесь могут в англицкую мову.
Переводи, интересно будет почитать в аноноовском переводе.
>>76294
В i2p зеркале флибусты ничего не забанено, как говорят, но сама она давно уэе скатилась.
>>76390
Бамп во имя Терранской Империи!
>>76647
Форчановское /tg/ пилит свой ОС, а чем мы хуже? Надо запилить своего. Только без ебливого мурриканского псевдолиберализма галактического уровня.
>>76696
Уже было много раз. Всегда скатывалось мокрые мечты либерастни, с чехами на визелях против чехов на бтрах.
Halo. В качестве пугалки для инопланетян - спартанцы вообще и Джон-117 в частности.
>>76709
Уходи.
>>76696
У /тг этог ОС дохрена, есть даже относительно крупные сеттинги. А всё потому, что ТГ ДОВОДИТ ДЕРЬМО ДО КОНЦА! а я, ленивое хуйло, никак не могу даже поискать ту историю про спасение Авнари.
>>76731
Так захотелось автора отправить в школу, биологию за восьмой класс сдавать.
Бамп, блеать!
Станция Вассилиск. Остальная часть цыкла про то как люди с людьми письками меряються
С натяжкой, Пейсатель, "Линия грёз" и "Императоры иллюзий". Там, правда, сильно и охуенно только челвечесто в целом, а отдельные его планеты, не говоря уже о людях, пухнут и дохнут как мухи. Но сама хуманоцивилизация загнала остальные расы под шконку.
Вообще, задача описать по-лавкрафтиански величественное человечество глазами низших культур задача нетривиальная. По-моему, хорошо с ней никто не справился до сих пор.
Произведения Алексея Бессонова.
В детстве прочитал его "Ветер и сталь".
Сплошной экшн.
Потом перечитывал.
Забавненько. И радует позиция Империи Человечества: мы - самые пиздатые и всем пизда.
Реквестирую пасту.
Предлагаю не проебать такой-то вин как этот тред и перекатиться. И допилить шапку, в которую скомпилировать инфу про все произведения по сабжу.
Хотел посоветовать ливадного, так как много годности в лице поехавших боевых ии, считывающих личности и эмоции не менее поехавших пилотов, но потом вспомнил как йоба флот Земного Альянса отпиздили посредством обчр-тракторов.
Бамп во имя Человечества.
И ещё немного упоротого ХФЕ, где человеки спокойно курят то, от чего у других наступает мгновенная передозировка гормонами счастья.
Тест.
Серия книг "Древний", начиная с четвёртой.
Вселенная принадлежит нам - компьютерному вирусу, обрётшему плоть. Просто она пока что об это не знает.
Окно контакта Шумила, Лестница из терновника Далина.
Там прям Комкон и прогресорство во все поля.
Лорд с планеты Земля
Спойлерить не буду, но в 3-ей части книги земляне настолько развиты, что... Это невозможно передать без спойлеров.
Спойлерить не буду, но в 3-ей части книги земляне настолько развиты, что... Это невозможно передать без спойлеров.
Ох, даже не ожидал что эта тема и этот запрос еще есть - давно не заходил в раздел SF; совершенно случайно вчера вспомнил про HFY и зашел сюда.
Спасибо за совет.
Бля, я, кажется, это читал когда-то. И, кажется, это было даже довольно неплохо.
В итоге этот хуй уничтожил человечество
Мне конечно очень приятно, когда кто то отвечает на мой пост двухлетней давности, но это не отменяет факта твоей неправоты.
Венеру терраформировали же.
Только терраформацию Венеры знаете ли проводить оче трудно К 2119 году (указан на могиле) вряд ли бы она джунглями обросла.
"Билл герой галактики" уже джва с половиной года как покойного Гарри Гаррисона.
>А то что благодаря грамотному прогрессорству дохуя народу станет жить лучше, образование, медицина, промышленность, хуе-мое - это похуй.
Не станет. Там "прогрессор" из гебни был и соответствующие идеи нёс.
> вспомнил как йоба флот Земного Альянса отпиздили посредством обчр-тракторов.
Ну ливадный объяснял же, что эти обчр дохуя вундервафлями были.
А вообще цикл годный, да, особенно в последних книгах.
Ты это, потише, братишка с политотой. Забыл что ли кто у нас нынче главный прогрессор страны?
>с политотой
Какая политота, наркоман штоле?
А книга называется "Россия за облаком", автор Святослав Логинов. Даже если сюжет не нравится, почитать стоит хотя бы из-за одного языка. Логинов - это один из немногих умеющих писать писателей.
Есть один автор. Я бы назвал его расистом, будь я уверен в существовании инопланетных рас. Этот нацирналист вечно позиционирует человека, как представителя самой интеллектуально продвинутой жизни во вселенной. В общем, читни Вана Вогта, думаю, тебе понравится.
Причем достаточно только "Чудовище" прочитать, рассказ короткий, а вся суть передана.
Более опущенско-ватного романа от интилигентопитушка не читал, хотя литературно не плохо, идея там лишь повод хихикнуть.
У вас пораша головного мозга.
Пасты кто нибудь переводит?
Где? Да и зачем?
Не хожу дальше реддита.
Я могу перевести, всё равно делать нехуй. Перевод уровня /sf/, конечно, но лучше чем ничего. Где у вас тут самая годнота?
Вот, буду признателен
Я тоже. Сотни нефти авансом тебе.
Есть такой роман Армия солнца. Там земляне запилили йобаимперию, сотни видов алиенов работают на людей и считаются разумными второго сорта. Армия Империи терраыормирует мира прозапас, уничтожая при этом все население . Если какая-то раса начинала бугуртить- взрывали нахуй звезду материнской системы. Но чужие скинули иго ЧЕЛОВЕКА, рпзъебали Землюна самом деле нет и стали смотреть на выживших хуманов как на говно, что не мешало использовать потомков землян как йобасолдат.
Смак в том, что человечество запилило координатную сеть для полетов в гиперпространстве, только люди были настолько ебанутыми для слепых рывков, в конце человеки начали стирать координаты планет алиенов из координатной сети и запилили свою сеть.
Смак в том, что человечество запилило координатную сеть для полетов в гиперпространстве, только люди были настолько ебанутыми для слепых рывков, в конце человеки начали стирать координаты планет алиенов из координатной сети и запилили свою сеть.
В уже указывали. Кстати, а есть ли ещё что-нибудь близкое по духу к ЛКБ, где люди строят своё государство и практически забивают на ксеновиды по причине примитивности оных, но при этом не устраивают ксеноциды, дабы было за кем понаблюдать (этакий звёздный зоопарк/резервация), а самым перспективным промывают мозги, внушая, что пахать на Человечество - это охуеннее охуенного, после чего аплифтят получившихся фанатиков, готовых по первой же команде людей рвануться в атаку с криком "Хомо Сапиенс акбар!"? В подарок - паста с Четырёхканалья.
Ты не поверишь, но это мир Полдня Стругачей и Люди как Боги Снегова..
Про ЛКБ я в теле поста указал, а за Полудень благодарю.
Не заметил.
Еще "Нелюдь" Латыниной. Хотя они и устраивают там ксеноциды, но не забывают потом приручать выживших.
У Головачева есть целый цикл про спецслужбы землян будущего. Само будущее весьма годно описано в стиле "хуманити фак е".
Ага, только читать следует раннего Головачева, у позднего род головного мозга начался.
Ну и самое годное у него- Реликт.
Читал его в те времена, когда книги были исключительно бумажные. Наверно это было до описываемого тобой скатывания.
Смотри. Черный человек еще годнота, но черная сила уже бред. Первая книга нф, вторая ебаная фентезятина.
Джини- нф про йобаробота алиенов и превозмогание службы мчс, земля едина, всяких эмоциональных преступников лечат принудительно. Асоциальных элементов вообще нет,полиция упразднена. А в третьей уже род во вся поля, земля разделена на регионы и пидоры-европейцы строят козни
Головачев скатил все свои серии в говно, кроме разве что Бича времен. хотя нет, там тоже был вымерли: абсолютный игрок
Рекомендую навернуть Ливандного. Человечество дает проснуться всем чужим. Сервподразделения Земли сеят ужас в галактике спустя Овер9000 лет после войны.
Жаль автор не написал книги от лица офицера Альянса, в своих книгах автор явно выступал на стороне колоний.
>>
С какой книги Ливадного стоит начать, а то там без бутылки водки не разберешься.
С какой книги Ливадного стоит начать, а то там без бутылки водки не разберешься.
Вот еще вспомнил, "Доминирующая раса" и "дикий порт" Онойко.
Не смотря на то что автор женщина, оче годная космоопера в которой хуманити пришли к успеху и загнали старых владык галактики под шконарь в заповедники и добывали из них сперму для косметических целей.
Дабог. Начинай с первой книги цикла История галактики.
Опоздавшие к старту- годнота.
Там вроде люди друг с другом письками меряются или я что то путаю?
Благодарствую.
Вначале люди, да, потом под ножпланетарных машин пускают алиенов, причем мимоходом.
Ну, у Головачева читать можно (нужно ли — другой вопрос) только то, что было написано в позднесоветские-раннерыночные времена (до «Посланника», это где-то 94-й год). И, разумеется, не читать «расширенные и дополненные» версии (вроде «Бомжа времён», который получился доливанием воды в «Реквием машине времени»).
> Жаль автор не написал книги от лица офицера Альянса
Ну, не совсем. У него было несколько книг, вроде «Серв-батальона» где война (или послевоенный мир) как-раз показаны глазами военнослужащих Альянса.
Там не расововерные офицеры альянса же.
Проклятые Фостера же. Хотя люди там йоба только в военном деле.
Лолшто? Они йоба йоб, за пару лет смогли в звезды, выебали всех ксеносов в рот и даже не запыхались.
А есть ли что про человеков-магов или эсперов в космосе, или ещё какие особенности человечества?
Из подобного лишь припоминаю книгу про то, как алени вторглись на Землю, а там то ли вампиры, то ли оборотни, вместе с обычными людьми начали вторжение отбивать.
Из подобного лишь припоминаю книгу про то, как алени вторглись на Землю, а там то ли вампиры, то ли оборотни, вместе с обычными людьми начали вторжение отбивать.
И сидят на положении гостей с солнечного Кавказа. Которых не на каждую планету вообще пускают.
Словно это может помешать им в любой момент взять и выебать ксеносов. Они добрые же.
Как они кого выебут если у них флота нет? Это именно что мясо для мясорубки, которое сидит после войны возле параши, лучше бы на предложение амплитуров согласились.
У людей тоже есть козырь в виде своих амплитуров хуманов, но да в случае чего нас просто закатывают выставляя против одного человеческого корабля сто своих, гуманно вбамбливают в каменный век и изолируют оставив необходимо достаточную популяцию на случай если тру вояки опять будут нужны.
обезьяно-атеисты подьехали
А хули все на недочеловеческом? Есть переводы на русиш?
На русском же нет ничего, что тебя не устраивает?
"Звездная тень" Пейсателя
Лол, но у них наоборот ящериков давят массой, а те от этого просто охуевают
>Из подобного лишь припоминаю книгу про то, как алени вторглись на Землю, а там то ли вампиры, то ли оборотни, вместе с обычными людьми начали вторжение отбивать.
Г.Л. Олди "Сказки дедушки вампира"
"Серебряные пули с урановым сердечником"
Или Д.Вебер "Из тьмы"
Где переводы? Анон же вроде какой то собирался, так уже месяц прошёл епт!
Тебе не стыдно такое говно советовать?
Семь взглядов на олдувайское ущелье: http://www.lib.ru/RAZNOE/reznik.txt
Люди вымерли пять тысяч лет назад, после того как прокатились по всей Галактике, наводя свой порядок через геноцид. Группа исследователей пытается понять их мотивы.
Люди вымерли пять тысяч лет назад, после того как прокатились по всей Галактике, наводя свой порядок через геноцид. Группа исследователей пытается понять их мотивы.
Not bad
Тогда уж и «Рождённый править», про то как человечество хоть и выпилили, но до того она двенадцать тысячелетий давало просраться всей галактике.
А потом навернуть Чудовище, где нас реснули
Я аж загордился.
супер, прочитал потом Рождённый править, потом снова перечитал семь взглядов и хочу ещё.
Кстати, на тему вымирания и воскрешения человечества можно почитать замечательную Saturn's Children Стросса. Немножко не по теме, правда, потому как там роботы боятся воскрешения людей не из-за крутизны последних, а из-за встроенного рабского менталитета, включающегося при их виде. Так что даже воссоздание одного-единственного человека воспринимается как дико опасный эксперимент, так как человек может выйти из-под контроля и устроить всем полный пиздец.
>потом навернуть Чудовище, где нас реснули
Это что такое? У Резника не увидел.
Потому что это рассказ Ван-Вогта и к Майклу Резнику никакого отношения не имеет.
Винджа упоминали?
Глубина в небе
Пламя над бездной
Живая классика научной фантастики, тащемта.
Люди с края вселенной улетели в плане трансгуманитарной эволюции в далекое светлое будущее, тогда как отсталые нише броды в медленной зоне ближе к центру галактики не могут толком развиваться в силу накладываемых ограничений на работу технологий и отсутствие всякой возможности к быстрой доставке по системам.
Действие происходит на планете средневековых собакостай, обладающих расшаренным на стаю сознанием и в космосе.
В Глубине люди давно вышли в космос, но никакой особой йобы не изобрели. Тем не менее они находят первую внеземную цивилизацию пауков, которые движутся где-то к двадцатому веку, а люди за ними наблюдают с орбиты и попутно хуесосят друг друга.
Глубина в небе
Пламя над бездной
Живая классика научной фантастики, тащемта.
Люди с края вселенной улетели в плане трансгуманитарной эволюции в далекое светлое будущее, тогда как отсталые нише броды в медленной зоне ближе к центру галактики не могут толком развиваться в силу накладываемых ограничений на работу технологий и отсутствие всякой возможности к быстрой доставке по системам.
Действие происходит на планете средневековых собакостай, обладающих расшаренным на стаю сознанием и в космосе.
В Глубине люди давно вышли в космос, но никакой особой йобы не изобрели. Тем не менее они находят первую внеземную цивилизацию пауков, которые движутся где-то к двадцатому веку, а люди за ними наблюдают с орбиты и попутно хуесосят друг друга.
А вот это как-то неожиданно слабо и уныло. Выше всё круче было.
Такое ощущение, что хорошие истории закончились.
Попробую немного покидать историй, которые завалялись у меня. Так как спамлист не одобряет большие посты, истории будут разделены на части.
*
System check: Timestamp 15 April 7880
Last check: 986 years 3 months 13 days 7 hours 32 minutes ago
Checking memory…
Tabula module integrity at 100 percent
Nanite integrity at 87 percent
NEXUS INTEGRITY 100 PERCENT
Initiating perimeter sweep…
WARNING: 255 CRUISER-CLASS NON-PLANETARY OBJECTS DETECTED
Initiating phalanx protocols…
Standby.
The dwarf planet crackled in the eternal darkness of space, its atmosphere hissing and spitting as the shower of asteroids burst upon its gaseous shield. Above it, the titanic craft spun steadily through the asteroid ring, its helical frame pushing aside the tiny rocky fragments whose numbers were beyond numbering. Moving at seven-tenths the speed of light, the Nergal was as a hot blade punching into ice, and the millions of asteroids melted against its momentum without resistance.
“The Ring of Okhilan.” Kalvek surveyed the desolate expanse through the holographic viewport. “Hard to imagine that this is the first time in three thousand [years] that the Annunaki have laid eyes on it.”
“It used to be called something else. The Kuh-i-per Belt.” Anzu called up the starmap with a mental command. “And instead of rocks, there were hundreds and hundreds of battle drones, each the size of a dwarf planet. Took us fifty [months] to break through the line. Half of these rocks here,” he lazily gestured across the viewport, “are probably the remains of our ships.”
Kalvek turned to the older Annunak with surprise. “You were there? At the Last Descent?”
“I was. The body you see now is the sixty-third or sixty-fourth cybernetic construct I have inhabited since that final plunge.” Anzu glanced down at the polished metal of his torso.
“What was it like?”
The elder Annunak shook his head. “Hell. Absolute devastation. Their weapons tore our ships from the sky, plucking them down like stars. Their drones ripped our capital cruisers apart, and began building copies of themselves from the still-warm wreckage. We managed to purge the drone swarm, but only just. When the last drone shut down, our armada was down to a third of its size.”
Anzu’s metallic voice dropped to a whisper. “I was among the few invasion teams who actually made it to the planet’s surface. The sheer carnage there—we slew ten of them for every one of us they brought down, and it was nearly not enough. They fired at us until they ran out of ammunition, then threw themselves upon us and detonated their built-in explosives. We could not force them to retreat, could not weaken their resolve. We incurred terrible losses for each [foot] of ground gained. I very nearly made it to the city perimeter. And then, one of our own ships came down. A capital cruiser, brought down by a pulse cannon. So large, it seemed to fill the sky. It crashed down on us. I was lucky. I was mangled, my body destroyed. But I was the only one who had enough time to upload my consciousness into the Ea Network, to transfer it to an artificial vessel. And so my service was allowed to continue.”
Kalvek examined Anzu’s sleek cybernetic body, watching the fluidics pumping through transparent plastinated channels. He knew that the elder Annunak’s organic form must have perished sometime in the distant past, yet never suspected that it was the humans who were responsible. It was unthinkable.
The younger Annunak stroked his segmented mouthparts. “That’s—we were always taught that the Last Descent was a crushing victory for us. That the human resistance crumpled under the might of our armada. That we lost not a ship.”
Anzu scoffed. “Propaganda and nonsense. Once the humans were wiped out, the Enlil saw no need to inform the populace that Annunaki armada lost seventeen thousand ships trying to subjugate a backward and savage race. An embarrassing incident, a footnote to our story of conquest across the stars. In time, they managed to rewrite the myth into a more—favourable version of events.”
Kalvek looked at the viewport. “In that case—this all makes sense. This is why they dispatched the entire Second Fleet for the sake of investigating a lone signal from the humans’ home system.” The greyish orb, starkly illuminated against the bleak blackness of the void, was a mere hour away. “They are afraid. That our annihilation of their race was incomplete.”
“They are foolish. This is a waste of time.” Anzu waved away the starmap, returning to the navigation module. “The humans are dead. Of that I am sure. There is not a single living being alive on that barren rock.”
“And how can you be sure?”
“Because we sacrificed our flagship to detonate a Tiamat warhead over their planet. It incinerated their atmosphere in an instant. Solar radiation scorched their planet; massive infernos consumed their cities, and their magnetic field disintegrated. Whatever humans survived the initial conflict, died to radiation poisoning and suffocation within [minutes] of the Tiamat’s explosion—as did any Annunaki troops on the planet. A final solution.”
Anzu focused on their destination in the distance, steadily increasing in size. “That orb right there—it used to be blue. Now it’s grey. That’s how completely we eradicated them. The humans are dead. Nothing awaits us there except desolation and trillions of units of solar radiation.”
Kalvek watched the viewport. They were passing over the fifth planet, a tumultuous gas giant whose planetary storms fizzled and crackled beneath them. “Then how do you explain the signal that came from this system?”
“It was one lone ping that sounded once and went silent.” Anzu clicked his mouthparts. “Perhaps an ionic aberration of their yellow dwarf star. Perhaps the energy spike from a pulsar thousands of [light years] away, refracted and focused by the gravitational density of this system. Look.”
He raised his arm and spread his appendages open. The image of the grey planet expanded on the screen. “What do you see?”
Kalvek surveyed the surface of the planet. Uniform greyness, and oceans of liquid long-since saturated by heavy metal ions. Mountain ranges casting shadows across a barren expanse. A surface burned clean by unrelenting, merciless solar radiation.
“A dead planet,” he answered finally.
“Exactly.”
*
System check: Timestamp 15 April 7880
Last check: 986 years 3 months 13 days 7 hours 32 minutes ago
Checking memory…
Tabula module integrity at 100 percent
Nanite integrity at 87 percent
NEXUS INTEGRITY 100 PERCENT
Initiating perimeter sweep…
WARNING: 255 CRUISER-CLASS NON-PLANETARY OBJECTS DETECTED
Initiating phalanx protocols…
Standby.
The dwarf planet crackled in the eternal darkness of space, its atmosphere hissing and spitting as the shower of asteroids burst upon its gaseous shield. Above it, the titanic craft spun steadily through the asteroid ring, its helical frame pushing aside the tiny rocky fragments whose numbers were beyond numbering. Moving at seven-tenths the speed of light, the Nergal was as a hot blade punching into ice, and the millions of asteroids melted against its momentum without resistance.
“The Ring of Okhilan.” Kalvek surveyed the desolate expanse through the holographic viewport. “Hard to imagine that this is the first time in three thousand [years] that the Annunaki have laid eyes on it.”
“It used to be called something else. The Kuh-i-per Belt.” Anzu called up the starmap with a mental command. “And instead of rocks, there were hundreds and hundreds of battle drones, each the size of a dwarf planet. Took us fifty [months] to break through the line. Half of these rocks here,” he lazily gestured across the viewport, “are probably the remains of our ships.”
Kalvek turned to the older Annunak with surprise. “You were there? At the Last Descent?”
“I was. The body you see now is the sixty-third or sixty-fourth cybernetic construct I have inhabited since that final plunge.” Anzu glanced down at the polished metal of his torso.
“What was it like?”
The elder Annunak shook his head. “Hell. Absolute devastation. Their weapons tore our ships from the sky, plucking them down like stars. Their drones ripped our capital cruisers apart, and began building copies of themselves from the still-warm wreckage. We managed to purge the drone swarm, but only just. When the last drone shut down, our armada was down to a third of its size.”
Anzu’s metallic voice dropped to a whisper. “I was among the few invasion teams who actually made it to the planet’s surface. The sheer carnage there—we slew ten of them for every one of us they brought down, and it was nearly not enough. They fired at us until they ran out of ammunition, then threw themselves upon us and detonated their built-in explosives. We could not force them to retreat, could not weaken their resolve. We incurred terrible losses for each [foot] of ground gained. I very nearly made it to the city perimeter. And then, one of our own ships came down. A capital cruiser, brought down by a pulse cannon. So large, it seemed to fill the sky. It crashed down on us. I was lucky. I was mangled, my body destroyed. But I was the only one who had enough time to upload my consciousness into the Ea Network, to transfer it to an artificial vessel. And so my service was allowed to continue.”
Kalvek examined Anzu’s sleek cybernetic body, watching the fluidics pumping through transparent plastinated channels. He knew that the elder Annunak’s organic form must have perished sometime in the distant past, yet never suspected that it was the humans who were responsible. It was unthinkable.
The younger Annunak stroked his segmented mouthparts. “That’s—we were always taught that the Last Descent was a crushing victory for us. That the human resistance crumpled under the might of our armada. That we lost not a ship.”
Anzu scoffed. “Propaganda and nonsense. Once the humans were wiped out, the Enlil saw no need to inform the populace that Annunaki armada lost seventeen thousand ships trying to subjugate a backward and savage race. An embarrassing incident, a footnote to our story of conquest across the stars. In time, they managed to rewrite the myth into a more—favourable version of events.”
Kalvek looked at the viewport. “In that case—this all makes sense. This is why they dispatched the entire Second Fleet for the sake of investigating a lone signal from the humans’ home system.” The greyish orb, starkly illuminated against the bleak blackness of the void, was a mere hour away. “They are afraid. That our annihilation of their race was incomplete.”
“They are foolish. This is a waste of time.” Anzu waved away the starmap, returning to the navigation module. “The humans are dead. Of that I am sure. There is not a single living being alive on that barren rock.”
“And how can you be sure?”
“Because we sacrificed our flagship to detonate a Tiamat warhead over their planet. It incinerated their atmosphere in an instant. Solar radiation scorched their planet; massive infernos consumed their cities, and their magnetic field disintegrated. Whatever humans survived the initial conflict, died to radiation poisoning and suffocation within [minutes] of the Tiamat’s explosion—as did any Annunaki troops on the planet. A final solution.”
Anzu focused on their destination in the distance, steadily increasing in size. “That orb right there—it used to be blue. Now it’s grey. That’s how completely we eradicated them. The humans are dead. Nothing awaits us there except desolation and trillions of units of solar radiation.”
Kalvek watched the viewport. They were passing over the fifth planet, a tumultuous gas giant whose planetary storms fizzled and crackled beneath them. “Then how do you explain the signal that came from this system?”
“It was one lone ping that sounded once and went silent.” Anzu clicked his mouthparts. “Perhaps an ionic aberration of their yellow dwarf star. Perhaps the energy spike from a pulsar thousands of [light years] away, refracted and focused by the gravitational density of this system. Look.”
He raised his arm and spread his appendages open. The image of the grey planet expanded on the screen. “What do you see?”
Kalvek surveyed the surface of the planet. Uniform greyness, and oceans of liquid long-since saturated by heavy metal ions. Mountain ranges casting shadows across a barren expanse. A surface burned clean by unrelenting, merciless solar radiation.
“A dead planet,” he answered finally.
“Exactly.”
Perimeter analysis complete.
Gravimetric field displacement engines detected…255 instances.
Cybernetic constructs detected…670 instances.
Bionic neural systems detected…670 instances.
Modifying Scavenger Iteration…
The Nergal spun slowly in the shadow of the grey planet’s lone moon, its warp drives stabilizing the [two kilometer]-long leviathan in orbit. The Second Fleet held position [six hundred million kilometers] behind, in orbit around the largest gas giant.
Of the three thousand Annunaki aboard the Nergal, fifteen would join the landing team. A short operation, a mere formality. Simply having Annunaki feet upon the grey planet, to visually confirm that their ancient enemies were, and have always been, dead—that would be enough to appease the Enlil.
Kalvek equipped his environmental suit, deftly coupling the gaseous exchange valves to his respiratory protuberances. Anzu, his body naught but a cybernetic construct, needed no preparation, and was already in the docking bay. As commander of the Nergal, he would also command the operation.
“The operation is simple, brethren.” Anzu’s bionic eyes roved over his companions. “On-board planetary scanners have shown us nothing of note on this planet, the humans’ old homeworld. Still, we will need to confirm our findings on the planet’s surface, by planting a scanning probe. According to our calculations, the signal originated from these coordinates on the grey planet.”
He activated his holo-projector, displaying a red mark on the virtual image of the planet. “We land there, we plant the scanning module, and we hold position until the scan is complete.”
He looked at each member, taking note of the sidearm strapped to their torso. “You are armed, as well you should be. But this is a dead planet, and any enemies that could harm you died three thousand cycles ago. Rather, your greatest threat is the environment. This planet is a dead world, utterly hostile to life. You will be battered by solar radiation several thousand times that of our homeworld Nibiru. The air is filled with heavy gases that will burn through your respiratory systems. Only your suits will sustain you. One break, one leak, and you will die painfully. Stay together at all times, and stay vigilant.”
“Let’s go.”
The landing craft was a scout ship, equipped for operations both planetside and in outer space. Unlike the ponderous conical helix of the Nergal’s body, the Pazuzu was sleek, bladelike and merely a fraction of its mothership’s size. Detaching from the Nergal’s underside, the rhomboidal craft swooped down towards the grey planet.
The Pazuzu’s pulse engine carried them from outer orbit to the surface within mere [minutes], raking a bright blue trail across the naked sky. Dexterously, Kalvek touched them down directly in their target landing zone.
The team exited the Pazuzu. Around them was nothing but barrenness. The sky above was a blank whiteness, illuminated by the naked sun. Kalvek gently prodded the soft grey sand under his feet. The unhindered solar radiation had scoured the land completely.
“[Annunaki expletive], this place is a wasteland,” a scout muttered. Like Anzu, his body was a robotic frame, and again Kalvek wondered how his organic form was destroyed. “We’re wasting time here. I don’t see any humans around. Do you?” He glanced at Kalvek.
“Well, Urak, the sooner the scanning module is up, the sooner we can return.” Kalvek jerked his head. Urak grunted, his metallic mouthparts managing a friendly expression.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Quiet.” Anzu’s command was terse. “Plant the scanner.”
Two scouts quickly deployed the probe on the ground. [Two meters] tall and shaped like a helix, equipped with a powerful magnetic resonance mapper. The heavy structure dug into the sand, and immediately the helix began to spin.
Urak twiddled his metallic fingers idly. “So now we just wait.”
No one spoke for what seemed like [hours.] Anzu watched the holo-map impassively. Urak folded his arms and stared into the distance, clearly displeased.
Kalvek surveyed the surrounding scenery. The entire operation was looking more and more like a waste of time. His suit was registering a temperature of [five hundred degrees Kelvin]. A planetary storm seemed to be brewing somewhere [hundreds of kilometers] away, churning up heavy metals in its eye. The radiation levels were absolutely, indubitably lethal to every known form of life in the cosmos.
Nothing would survive here. This was a dead planet, belonging to a dead people. Nothing awaited them at the end of their search, except the remains of a race all but forgotten.
A loud, shrill ping brought everyone sharply to attention.
“Something is underneath us. An energy signature.” Anzu’s voice was filled with a sudden urgency. “The probe is mapping out something—a subterranean cavern.”
Urak glared at the holo-map. “That can’t be right. We’re standing on solid ground.”
“No.” Anzu shook his head. “Merely a thick layer of fine sand, compacted over [thousands] of years by planetary storms. We are standing right on top of a chasm.”
Several members of the expedition tapped the ground nervously with their feet, as if expecting it to give way at any moment.
“Maybe underground volcanic activity accounts for the energy signature?” An engineer inquired nervously. “A tectonic seam, perhaps? Geothermal anomaly?”
“It could be just a fluke. A random energy spike, or an equipment malfunction,” Kalvek offered helpfully.
“Impossible.”
“Why?” Kalvek asked.
Anzu drew his sidearm in a flash.
“Because it just moved toward us.”
Every other member of the team immediately armed themselves. Kalvek brandished his plasma lance.
Anzu’s eyes roved over the holo-map. “I cannot see it moving anymore. It is stationary.”
Kalvek listened. Nothing seemed to stir under him. His senses, amplified by the environmental suit, provided no further information.
For several [minutes], none moved. Every scout simply waited, alert, watching and listening. Then, Urak relaxed first.
“Nothing’s moving.” Urak lowered his weapon. “Kalvek’s right. It’s probably a fluke.”
Anzu suddenly froze. “Oh, [Annunaki expletive].”
“What is it?” Kalvek hissed.
“This map shows two dimensions. It does not measure depth.” He pointed at the stationary blob on the screen.
Kalvek’s innards ran cold.
“It’s been tunneling towards us.”
They reacted, too late, too slowly. Nothing prepared them for the moment the ground exploded from beneath their feet.
Kalvek’s world was sand. He flailed, scrambling for footing. The plasma lance tumbled from his grip. Then his feet crashed painfully onto a solid surface.
He rose up shakily, half-buried in sand, his helmet clouded, his breathing labored.
His blood froze.
Urak was screaming. Half-buried in sand, he struggled and flailed, keening in intense pain. The metallic body of the Annunak was trapped in a sand dune. The smooth sheen of his cybernetic frame was peeling apart, fragmenting and splintering. Metallic streams burst from his torso, his limbs, his face. The scout writhed in purest agony as his left arm broke from his shoulder and disintegrated into silver liquid.
Urak was melting.
Anzu had drawn his sidearm. “Shoot him! Do as I say, now!”
Without questioning, Kalvek obeyed. He grasped the plasma lance at his side, and trained it on the hapless scout’s body. Fourteen bolts of superheated plasma thundered into Urak’s body, piercing his crumbling frame, burrowing into the dune behind him. The scout’s body jerked limply, shaken by the shock of the blasts.
Kalvek stared, uncomprehending, as the shadow of a massive creature was illuminated inside the dune.
Three pairs of glowing white lights blazed through the sand. A metallic screech sounded. And then the layer of sand peeled off as easily as if it was blown away by wind.
It resembled one of the watery shelled creatures from Nibiru—but those tiny critters fit into his hand. This abomination was three the size of an Annunak. And it was wrong—wrong, in every sense. Silver claws, bladed and cruel, towered over Kalvek. Tentacles slithered on its underside, drawing in the remains of Urak’s body. Its head, armored and globular, turned on its axis, and six soulless eyes glared into Kalvek’s own.
Gravimetric field displacement engines detected…255 instances.
Cybernetic constructs detected…670 instances.
Bionic neural systems detected…670 instances.
Modifying Scavenger Iteration…
The Nergal spun slowly in the shadow of the grey planet’s lone moon, its warp drives stabilizing the [two kilometer]-long leviathan in orbit. The Second Fleet held position [six hundred million kilometers] behind, in orbit around the largest gas giant.
Of the three thousand Annunaki aboard the Nergal, fifteen would join the landing team. A short operation, a mere formality. Simply having Annunaki feet upon the grey planet, to visually confirm that their ancient enemies were, and have always been, dead—that would be enough to appease the Enlil.
Kalvek equipped his environmental suit, deftly coupling the gaseous exchange valves to his respiratory protuberances. Anzu, his body naught but a cybernetic construct, needed no preparation, and was already in the docking bay. As commander of the Nergal, he would also command the operation.
“The operation is simple, brethren.” Anzu’s bionic eyes roved over his companions. “On-board planetary scanners have shown us nothing of note on this planet, the humans’ old homeworld. Still, we will need to confirm our findings on the planet’s surface, by planting a scanning probe. According to our calculations, the signal originated from these coordinates on the grey planet.”
He activated his holo-projector, displaying a red mark on the virtual image of the planet. “We land there, we plant the scanning module, and we hold position until the scan is complete.”
He looked at each member, taking note of the sidearm strapped to their torso. “You are armed, as well you should be. But this is a dead planet, and any enemies that could harm you died three thousand cycles ago. Rather, your greatest threat is the environment. This planet is a dead world, utterly hostile to life. You will be battered by solar radiation several thousand times that of our homeworld Nibiru. The air is filled with heavy gases that will burn through your respiratory systems. Only your suits will sustain you. One break, one leak, and you will die painfully. Stay together at all times, and stay vigilant.”
“Let’s go.”
The landing craft was a scout ship, equipped for operations both planetside and in outer space. Unlike the ponderous conical helix of the Nergal’s body, the Pazuzu was sleek, bladelike and merely a fraction of its mothership’s size. Detaching from the Nergal’s underside, the rhomboidal craft swooped down towards the grey planet.
The Pazuzu’s pulse engine carried them from outer orbit to the surface within mere [minutes], raking a bright blue trail across the naked sky. Dexterously, Kalvek touched them down directly in their target landing zone.
The team exited the Pazuzu. Around them was nothing but barrenness. The sky above was a blank whiteness, illuminated by the naked sun. Kalvek gently prodded the soft grey sand under his feet. The unhindered solar radiation had scoured the land completely.
“[Annunaki expletive], this place is a wasteland,” a scout muttered. Like Anzu, his body was a robotic frame, and again Kalvek wondered how his organic form was destroyed. “We’re wasting time here. I don’t see any humans around. Do you?” He glanced at Kalvek.
“Well, Urak, the sooner the scanning module is up, the sooner we can return.” Kalvek jerked his head. Urak grunted, his metallic mouthparts managing a friendly expression.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Quiet.” Anzu’s command was terse. “Plant the scanner.”
Two scouts quickly deployed the probe on the ground. [Two meters] tall and shaped like a helix, equipped with a powerful magnetic resonance mapper. The heavy structure dug into the sand, and immediately the helix began to spin.
Urak twiddled his metallic fingers idly. “So now we just wait.”
No one spoke for what seemed like [hours.] Anzu watched the holo-map impassively. Urak folded his arms and stared into the distance, clearly displeased.
Kalvek surveyed the surrounding scenery. The entire operation was looking more and more like a waste of time. His suit was registering a temperature of [five hundred degrees Kelvin]. A planetary storm seemed to be brewing somewhere [hundreds of kilometers] away, churning up heavy metals in its eye. The radiation levels were absolutely, indubitably lethal to every known form of life in the cosmos.
Nothing would survive here. This was a dead planet, belonging to a dead people. Nothing awaited them at the end of their search, except the remains of a race all but forgotten.
A loud, shrill ping brought everyone sharply to attention.
“Something is underneath us. An energy signature.” Anzu’s voice was filled with a sudden urgency. “The probe is mapping out something—a subterranean cavern.”
Urak glared at the holo-map. “That can’t be right. We’re standing on solid ground.”
“No.” Anzu shook his head. “Merely a thick layer of fine sand, compacted over [thousands] of years by planetary storms. We are standing right on top of a chasm.”
Several members of the expedition tapped the ground nervously with their feet, as if expecting it to give way at any moment.
“Maybe underground volcanic activity accounts for the energy signature?” An engineer inquired nervously. “A tectonic seam, perhaps? Geothermal anomaly?”
“It could be just a fluke. A random energy spike, or an equipment malfunction,” Kalvek offered helpfully.
“Impossible.”
“Why?” Kalvek asked.
Anzu drew his sidearm in a flash.
“Because it just moved toward us.”
Every other member of the team immediately armed themselves. Kalvek brandished his plasma lance.
Anzu’s eyes roved over the holo-map. “I cannot see it moving anymore. It is stationary.”
Kalvek listened. Nothing seemed to stir under him. His senses, amplified by the environmental suit, provided no further information.
For several [minutes], none moved. Every scout simply waited, alert, watching and listening. Then, Urak relaxed first.
“Nothing’s moving.” Urak lowered his weapon. “Kalvek’s right. It’s probably a fluke.”
Anzu suddenly froze. “Oh, [Annunaki expletive].”
“What is it?” Kalvek hissed.
“This map shows two dimensions. It does not measure depth.” He pointed at the stationary blob on the screen.
Kalvek’s innards ran cold.
“It’s been tunneling towards us.”
They reacted, too late, too slowly. Nothing prepared them for the moment the ground exploded from beneath their feet.
Kalvek’s world was sand. He flailed, scrambling for footing. The plasma lance tumbled from his grip. Then his feet crashed painfully onto a solid surface.
He rose up shakily, half-buried in sand, his helmet clouded, his breathing labored.
His blood froze.
Urak was screaming. Half-buried in sand, he struggled and flailed, keening in intense pain. The metallic body of the Annunak was trapped in a sand dune. The smooth sheen of his cybernetic frame was peeling apart, fragmenting and splintering. Metallic streams burst from his torso, his limbs, his face. The scout writhed in purest agony as his left arm broke from his shoulder and disintegrated into silver liquid.
Urak was melting.
Anzu had drawn his sidearm. “Shoot him! Do as I say, now!”
Without questioning, Kalvek obeyed. He grasped the plasma lance at his side, and trained it on the hapless scout’s body. Fourteen bolts of superheated plasma thundered into Urak’s body, piercing his crumbling frame, burrowing into the dune behind him. The scout’s body jerked limply, shaken by the shock of the blasts.
Kalvek stared, uncomprehending, as the shadow of a massive creature was illuminated inside the dune.
Three pairs of glowing white lights blazed through the sand. A metallic screech sounded. And then the layer of sand peeled off as easily as if it was blown away by wind.
It resembled one of the watery shelled creatures from Nibiru—but those tiny critters fit into his hand. This abomination was three the size of an Annunak. And it was wrong—wrong, in every sense. Silver claws, bladed and cruel, towered over Kalvek. Tentacles slithered on its underside, drawing in the remains of Urak’s body. Its head, armored and globular, turned on its axis, and six soulless eyes glared into Kalvek’s own.
“Hit it! Hit it with everything!” Anzu roared.
Kalvek obeyed. The creature’s shell shimmered like troubled water under the plasma fire, shedding scales and a spray of molten metal. It reacted faster than it should, for something its size. Claws withdrew into its shell. Tentacles disappeared, leaving a smooth, beadlike body.
It rolled. Sinking into the sand, burrowing forward, underneath the stunned Annunaki.
Anzu sprinted backwards. “Get back! Get back!”
One scout died where he stood, a blade bursting from the sand straight into his abdomen. He had no time to cry out. The monster rose up from the sand as easily as if it were liquid, now behind Kalvek and Anzu.
The salvo continued, now punctuated by panicked cries.
The beast shrilled. A tentacle shot forward, slashing into the helmet of an engineer. The Annunak fell backwards, scrambling away. The helmet came apart, the ruined metal crumbling in his desperate hands. Kalvek’s triple-heart sank as he knew what would happen even before the engineer began screaming.
Unprotected from the elements, the millions of units of radiation, the engineer’s face peeled, his skin dissolving into dust, his eyes boiled white. The Annunak sank to the ground lifelessly as the shelled beast roared over his body.
Anzu kept firing. His aim was steady. The creature was breaking up. It gave an unnatural roar as one claw broke from its body. Kalvek continued firing, screaming furiously all the while. It seemed to feel pain, its shell breaking up, its limbs breaking off one by one.
At last it was still.
Kalvek’s digestive system recovered first. Up came the nutrient mix, bursting from his mouth, staining the inside of his helmet. He doubled up. Nauseated. Confused. Angry.
“What,” he hissed at Anzu, “what in [Annunaki expletive] was that?”
Anzu holstered his sidearm. His cybernetic body was covered in grey dust, and his glowing yellow eyes made him look eerie.
“Human creation. A Scavenger drone. Just like the ones we fought over the planet’s orbit during the Last Descent.” He pointed at the creature’s broken body. “It consumes any metal and cybernetics, like poor Urak back there. Assimilates it on a molecular level.”
He pointed to the monster’s jaws. “Nanites in its system break down the metal, and reassembles it. Builds another drone. Replicates. Like a swarm.” Anzu kicked the dead creature. “If we hadn’t fired on it immediately, disrupted the assimilation process, it could have built a new drone within [thirty seconds].”
Kalvek cursed. “You could have told us all this before.”
“I had no idea I was going to see this monstrosity again in my lifetime, Kalvek!” The elder Annunak roared through his synthesized voice. “I thought they were dead. I thought we killed all of them. So many ships we burned—so many we let die—just to destroy the swarm…”
Kalvek activated the cleaning system in his helmet. “Well there’s your answer. The signal we detected on Nibiru must have originated from this lone drone here. Guess it’s been here ever since the Last Descent, prowling these sands.” He holstered the plasma lance. “We put it out of its misery. Cost us three good souls, but we buried humanity’s last accursed creation for good. Let’s go home.”
“No.” Anzu brought up the holographic screen again. “Something is wrong.”
“What?” Kalvek couldn’t take more of this.
“The drone’s been talking. Broadcasting enormous packets of data ever since it first surfaced.” Anzu scanned the screen briskly, panic mounting.
“So what? I thought that’s what drones do. It’s transmitting to a central command that no longer exists.”
Anzu looked at Kalvek.
“Something is talking back.”
His hands shook with alarm, swiping furiously across the screen.
“Something big.”
Kalvek obeyed. The creature’s shell shimmered like troubled water under the plasma fire, shedding scales and a spray of molten metal. It reacted faster than it should, for something its size. Claws withdrew into its shell. Tentacles disappeared, leaving a smooth, beadlike body.
It rolled. Sinking into the sand, burrowing forward, underneath the stunned Annunaki.
Anzu sprinted backwards. “Get back! Get back!”
One scout died where he stood, a blade bursting from the sand straight into his abdomen. He had no time to cry out. The monster rose up from the sand as easily as if it were liquid, now behind Kalvek and Anzu.
The salvo continued, now punctuated by panicked cries.
The beast shrilled. A tentacle shot forward, slashing into the helmet of an engineer. The Annunak fell backwards, scrambling away. The helmet came apart, the ruined metal crumbling in his desperate hands. Kalvek’s triple-heart sank as he knew what would happen even before the engineer began screaming.
Unprotected from the elements, the millions of units of radiation, the engineer’s face peeled, his skin dissolving into dust, his eyes boiled white. The Annunak sank to the ground lifelessly as the shelled beast roared over his body.
Anzu kept firing. His aim was steady. The creature was breaking up. It gave an unnatural roar as one claw broke from its body. Kalvek continued firing, screaming furiously all the while. It seemed to feel pain, its shell breaking up, its limbs breaking off one by one.
At last it was still.
Kalvek’s digestive system recovered first. Up came the nutrient mix, bursting from his mouth, staining the inside of his helmet. He doubled up. Nauseated. Confused. Angry.
“What,” he hissed at Anzu, “what in [Annunaki expletive] was that?”
Anzu holstered his sidearm. His cybernetic body was covered in grey dust, and his glowing yellow eyes made him look eerie.
“Human creation. A Scavenger drone. Just like the ones we fought over the planet’s orbit during the Last Descent.” He pointed at the creature’s broken body. “It consumes any metal and cybernetics, like poor Urak back there. Assimilates it on a molecular level.”
He pointed to the monster’s jaws. “Nanites in its system break down the metal, and reassembles it. Builds another drone. Replicates. Like a swarm.” Anzu kicked the dead creature. “If we hadn’t fired on it immediately, disrupted the assimilation process, it could have built a new drone within [thirty seconds].”
Kalvek cursed. “You could have told us all this before.”
“I had no idea I was going to see this monstrosity again in my lifetime, Kalvek!” The elder Annunak roared through his synthesized voice. “I thought they were dead. I thought we killed all of them. So many ships we burned—so many we let die—just to destroy the swarm…”
Kalvek activated the cleaning system in his helmet. “Well there’s your answer. The signal we detected on Nibiru must have originated from this lone drone here. Guess it’s been here ever since the Last Descent, prowling these sands.” He holstered the plasma lance. “We put it out of its misery. Cost us three good souls, but we buried humanity’s last accursed creation for good. Let’s go home.”
“No.” Anzu brought up the holographic screen again. “Something is wrong.”
“What?” Kalvek couldn’t take more of this.
“The drone’s been talking. Broadcasting enormous packets of data ever since it first surfaced.” Anzu scanned the screen briskly, panic mounting.
“So what? I thought that’s what drones do. It’s transmitting to a central command that no longer exists.”
Anzu looked at Kalvek.
“Something is talking back.”
His hands shook with alarm, swiping furiously across the screen.
“Something big.”
Total cybernetic mass assimilated: 233 kilograms
Total data assimilated: 1 278 terabytes
Scavenger Drone #712 status: offline
Switching command state…active
Harbinger protocol initiated.
Online.
The first shockwave knocked Kalvek off his feet.
Dazed, disoriented, the Annunak reached blindly around him and grasped the firm, metal shoulder of Anzu, who was squatting with his arms braced to the ground.
“What—”
The second shockwave rent the ground apart.
A geyser of sand exploded into the air, so high as to blot out the sky. Beneath their feet, they could feel the sand shifting. Sinking. Thousands of [tons] of loose sand, suddenly crumbling under them.
“Move!” Anzu dragged Kalvek to his feet. Stumbling, slipping, fighting the tide of shifting sand, they clambered away. Kalvek’s waist was covered. Now his torso. His arms scrabbled for purchase, and just when they were about to be overwhelmed, his feet hit solid ground.
“Keep going! Don’t stop!” Anzu commanded. Kalvek continued to push. They were out of the morass now, and he turned around.
A wide, gaping pit yawned behind them. Beneath, sunlight shone for the first time in a subterranean cavern, an impossibly deep chasm.
Kalvek’s first thought was a freak earthquake. By some stroke of cruel fate, tectonic activity had finally destroyed the tenuous foundation under the layers of fine sand.
Then the arm came out of the pit.
“By all that is sacred.” Anzu cursed in a whisper.
It could not exist. The universe, cruel as it was, malevolent as it was, simply could not allow for the existence of the monstrosity that now filled the landscape. Kalvek watched, his mind a blank, even as the black arm dug into the bedrock and hauled the rest of the beast up.
“Oh by the gods and the stars.” Anzu dropped to his knees. “It looks like them. It’s shaped just like a human.”
Towering above even the highest spire of Nibiru, it loomed. Its body was black metal, corrugated and segmented, the metallic meshwork resembling the demonic art of the forbidden cults. Bright veins glowed within its torso and limbs, channeling unimaginable levels of whatever power source fueled it.
It rose from the pit.
Two arms, and two one-jointed legs instead of the three the Annunaki possessed. Its limbs were sleek, cruel, jagged like frozen liquid, as if they had been forged in the furnace of a planet’s core rather than by artificial means. A work of death, an eldritch creature shaped by a lunatic's anvil. Its head—like the drone, six glowing white eyes burned with light. A low-pitched groan came from its mouthparts.
The giant crossed the landscape smoothly, too fast, too easily for something of its size. It was wrong. Something like that could not, should not, be real.
“How, what,” Kalvek stuttered, “what is that—that thing?”
“A human cannot be inside there. It cannot. Nothing alive can be inside that thing. Nothing is controlling it. It is dead. It is dead.” Anzu was muttering, almost to himself. “Even if there were—it would take hundreds, no, thousands of humans, just to pilot it! Unless—oh [expletive]. They did it. They finally did it.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“They created a self-governing mech. They created a machine that could learn and adapt, to modify itself, to write its own directives.” Anzu gripped his metallic head. “They transgressed against nature itself.”
“Anzu. Sir!” Kalvek shook his mentor by the shoulders, attempting to rally his spirits. His own sanity was flagging. This was not Anzu, not the stern mentor who could remain calm under pressure, who trained him to master his own mind. This was a shell-shocked soldier come face-to-face with a nightmare from a war he thought he had left behind.
Kalvek had seen how war affected warriors. How they would startle at the sound of Kamlin singing outside their window, their throaty croaks sounding like the low-pitched firing of ion cannons. How they would instinctively reach for a nonexistent weapon at their side, when frightened by loud noises. He just never thought it would happen to Anzu, of all Annunaki.
There was a roar in the distance, the firing of an engine. Instantly Anzu raised his head.
The Pazuzu was taking off. The bladelike craft lifted from the planet’s surface, thrusters firing wildly, kicking up a dust storm. One or more of the crew must have made it back to the ship, and were attempting to escape. The Pazuzu wobbled unsteadily in the air, fighting the crosswinds, its every motion betraying the inexperience of the pilot within. The pulse drive blinked and sputtered in the sand storm.
“Idiots! These idiots!” Anzu screeched in his artificial voice.
“They’re abandoning us!” Kalvek yelled over the noise.
“No,” Anzu hissed, “they’ve just announced to that monster that the Pazuzu has a pulse drive!”
A scythe-like, bladed arm cut across the air, and impaled the Pazuzu in one swift motion.
The monster, somehow, had crossed the distance in an instant. The craft was entangled in its forelimbs, still desperately firing its thrusters, its pulse engine still attempting to start up. Then the monster’s torso opened up.
Tentacles, claws, appendages, black like the beast, smooth, almost organic in their slithering movements. They tore into the craft. Silvery liquid began to spread across the Pazuzu. Metal flaked and peeled from its fuselage. It came apart before their eyes.
Just like Urak. Kalvek understood.
“It’s a Scavenger. Just like the drone.” Anzu’s body trembled. “It consumes, it assimilates.”
The ship was no longer there. Bits of metal clattered uselessly to the ground. The monster was a mass of black and silver now, almost as much liquid as it was solid. The newly-assimilated material swirled around its limbs. The nanites began their work. And at its core, within its torso, a bright pulsating light began to glow.
“And now it has a pulse drive,” Anzu whimpered. The elder Annunak looked on in despair. “We have just given it the means to escape the planet’s gravity.”
Kalvek did the only thing that made sense to his mind. Calling up the communication module on his suit, he hailed the Nergal.
“This is Kalvek va’Thorosh to the crew of the Nergal! Prepare orbital cannon for firing on these coordinates!”
“It’s too late.” Anzu looked at the giant. “Look.”
The monster had reformed. The liquid silver had retreated under its carapace. Spiked plates of black metal rearranged themselves in a new configuration—a conical capsule, silver plates folding over each other like petals. The creature was almost unrecognizable, if not for the head and torso still visible within the shell. Now it resembled a colossal missile, a warhead aimed directly at the Nergal overhead.
The process had taken barely [fifteen seconds].
“It’s preparing for launch,” Anzu muttered.
The missile glowed. Blue light raced down cracks in the armor. Inside its shell, the pulse drive fired up.
A shockwave thundered across the landscape as the monster went supersonic, its metallic body shrieking into the empty sky above. Underneath, long silver tentacles trailed, spinning spirally, guiding the projectile in its path.
It happened in an instant. The blast wave washed over them.
Anzu dug into the soil, his metallic claws sinking into the bedrock, riding out the shock.
Kalvek stumbled, was caught in the wind, and disappeared off the edge of the chasm. Without a cry, the young Annunak was gone.
Anzu closed his eyes. He steadied his spirit. The panic was still there, but the homeostatic systems in his cybernetic body were beginning to modulate his neural activity. He looked up at the disappearing shape of the metallic monster, trailing blue fire across the sky.
A sandstorm was picking up. The air was filled with a howling wind, the dark sand obscuring vision. The low-pressure zone was moving eastward towards their position. Stony grey clouds agglutinated at the horizon, casting shadows over the distant sand dunes, bringing with them the promise of heavy-metal corrosive rain. Anzu didn’t know who else among the landing party were still alive. The point was moot. None of them would leave the planet alive.
He banished the thought of Kalvek from his mind, and purged all sentiment toward the comrades who had followed him here, back to the deathworld. Whatever hope they held to escape the planet’s surface, died with the Pazuzu. Only one recourse was left to Anzu, who alone had the means to leave Earth.
The elder Annunak initiated the neural upload.
His sand-caked metallic body crumpled to the ground, sinking into the pliant sand, and became still forever.
Far above, in the hold of the Nergal, the mind of Anzu downloaded itself into his sixty-fifth cybernetic body.
Total data assimilated: 1 278 terabytes
Scavenger Drone #712 status: offline
Switching command state…active
Harbinger protocol initiated.
Online.
The first shockwave knocked Kalvek off his feet.
Dazed, disoriented, the Annunak reached blindly around him and grasped the firm, metal shoulder of Anzu, who was squatting with his arms braced to the ground.
“What—”
The second shockwave rent the ground apart.
A geyser of sand exploded into the air, so high as to blot out the sky. Beneath their feet, they could feel the sand shifting. Sinking. Thousands of [tons] of loose sand, suddenly crumbling under them.
“Move!” Anzu dragged Kalvek to his feet. Stumbling, slipping, fighting the tide of shifting sand, they clambered away. Kalvek’s waist was covered. Now his torso. His arms scrabbled for purchase, and just when they were about to be overwhelmed, his feet hit solid ground.
“Keep going! Don’t stop!” Anzu commanded. Kalvek continued to push. They were out of the morass now, and he turned around.
A wide, gaping pit yawned behind them. Beneath, sunlight shone for the first time in a subterranean cavern, an impossibly deep chasm.
Kalvek’s first thought was a freak earthquake. By some stroke of cruel fate, tectonic activity had finally destroyed the tenuous foundation under the layers of fine sand.
Then the arm came out of the pit.
“By all that is sacred.” Anzu cursed in a whisper.
It could not exist. The universe, cruel as it was, malevolent as it was, simply could not allow for the existence of the monstrosity that now filled the landscape. Kalvek watched, his mind a blank, even as the black arm dug into the bedrock and hauled the rest of the beast up.
“Oh by the gods and the stars.” Anzu dropped to his knees. “It looks like them. It’s shaped just like a human.”
Towering above even the highest spire of Nibiru, it loomed. Its body was black metal, corrugated and segmented, the metallic meshwork resembling the demonic art of the forbidden cults. Bright veins glowed within its torso and limbs, channeling unimaginable levels of whatever power source fueled it.
It rose from the pit.
Two arms, and two one-jointed legs instead of the three the Annunaki possessed. Its limbs were sleek, cruel, jagged like frozen liquid, as if they had been forged in the furnace of a planet’s core rather than by artificial means. A work of death, an eldritch creature shaped by a lunatic's anvil. Its head—like the drone, six glowing white eyes burned with light. A low-pitched groan came from its mouthparts.
The giant crossed the landscape smoothly, too fast, too easily for something of its size. It was wrong. Something like that could not, should not, be real.
“How, what,” Kalvek stuttered, “what is that—that thing?”
“A human cannot be inside there. It cannot. Nothing alive can be inside that thing. Nothing is controlling it. It is dead. It is dead.” Anzu was muttering, almost to himself. “Even if there were—it would take hundreds, no, thousands of humans, just to pilot it! Unless—oh [expletive]. They did it. They finally did it.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“They created a self-governing mech. They created a machine that could learn and adapt, to modify itself, to write its own directives.” Anzu gripped his metallic head. “They transgressed against nature itself.”
“Anzu. Sir!” Kalvek shook his mentor by the shoulders, attempting to rally his spirits. His own sanity was flagging. This was not Anzu, not the stern mentor who could remain calm under pressure, who trained him to master his own mind. This was a shell-shocked soldier come face-to-face with a nightmare from a war he thought he had left behind.
Kalvek had seen how war affected warriors. How they would startle at the sound of Kamlin singing outside their window, their throaty croaks sounding like the low-pitched firing of ion cannons. How they would instinctively reach for a nonexistent weapon at their side, when frightened by loud noises. He just never thought it would happen to Anzu, of all Annunaki.
There was a roar in the distance, the firing of an engine. Instantly Anzu raised his head.
The Pazuzu was taking off. The bladelike craft lifted from the planet’s surface, thrusters firing wildly, kicking up a dust storm. One or more of the crew must have made it back to the ship, and were attempting to escape. The Pazuzu wobbled unsteadily in the air, fighting the crosswinds, its every motion betraying the inexperience of the pilot within. The pulse drive blinked and sputtered in the sand storm.
“Idiots! These idiots!” Anzu screeched in his artificial voice.
“They’re abandoning us!” Kalvek yelled over the noise.
“No,” Anzu hissed, “they’ve just announced to that monster that the Pazuzu has a pulse drive!”
A scythe-like, bladed arm cut across the air, and impaled the Pazuzu in one swift motion.
The monster, somehow, had crossed the distance in an instant. The craft was entangled in its forelimbs, still desperately firing its thrusters, its pulse engine still attempting to start up. Then the monster’s torso opened up.
Tentacles, claws, appendages, black like the beast, smooth, almost organic in their slithering movements. They tore into the craft. Silvery liquid began to spread across the Pazuzu. Metal flaked and peeled from its fuselage. It came apart before their eyes.
Just like Urak. Kalvek understood.
“It’s a Scavenger. Just like the drone.” Anzu’s body trembled. “It consumes, it assimilates.”
The ship was no longer there. Bits of metal clattered uselessly to the ground. The monster was a mass of black and silver now, almost as much liquid as it was solid. The newly-assimilated material swirled around its limbs. The nanites began their work. And at its core, within its torso, a bright pulsating light began to glow.
“And now it has a pulse drive,” Anzu whimpered. The elder Annunak looked on in despair. “We have just given it the means to escape the planet’s gravity.”
Kalvek did the only thing that made sense to his mind. Calling up the communication module on his suit, he hailed the Nergal.
“This is Kalvek va’Thorosh to the crew of the Nergal! Prepare orbital cannon for firing on these coordinates!”
“It’s too late.” Anzu looked at the giant. “Look.”
The monster had reformed. The liquid silver had retreated under its carapace. Spiked plates of black metal rearranged themselves in a new configuration—a conical capsule, silver plates folding over each other like petals. The creature was almost unrecognizable, if not for the head and torso still visible within the shell. Now it resembled a colossal missile, a warhead aimed directly at the Nergal overhead.
The process had taken barely [fifteen seconds].
“It’s preparing for launch,” Anzu muttered.
The missile glowed. Blue light raced down cracks in the armor. Inside its shell, the pulse drive fired up.
A shockwave thundered across the landscape as the monster went supersonic, its metallic body shrieking into the empty sky above. Underneath, long silver tentacles trailed, spinning spirally, guiding the projectile in its path.
It happened in an instant. The blast wave washed over them.
Anzu dug into the soil, his metallic claws sinking into the bedrock, riding out the shock.
Kalvek stumbled, was caught in the wind, and disappeared off the edge of the chasm. Without a cry, the young Annunak was gone.
Anzu closed his eyes. He steadied his spirit. The panic was still there, but the homeostatic systems in his cybernetic body were beginning to modulate his neural activity. He looked up at the disappearing shape of the metallic monster, trailing blue fire across the sky.
A sandstorm was picking up. The air was filled with a howling wind, the dark sand obscuring vision. The low-pressure zone was moving eastward towards their position. Stony grey clouds agglutinated at the horizon, casting shadows over the distant sand dunes, bringing with them the promise of heavy-metal corrosive rain. Anzu didn’t know who else among the landing party were still alive. The point was moot. None of them would leave the planet alive.
He banished the thought of Kalvek from his mind, and purged all sentiment toward the comrades who had followed him here, back to the deathworld. Whatever hope they held to escape the planet’s surface, died with the Pazuzu. Only one recourse was left to Anzu, who alone had the means to leave Earth.
The elder Annunak initiated the neural upload.
His sand-caked metallic body crumpled to the ground, sinking into the pliant sand, and became still forever.
Far above, in the hold of the Nergal, the mind of Anzu downloaded itself into his sixty-fifth cybernetic body.
The mech thundered through space. At nearly six-tenths the speed of light, the newly-synthesized pulse drive powered the colossal titan past the planet’s magnetosphere in mere [seconds].
Within its shell, the creature’s expansive AI-core began to break down the data from the consumed Annunaki ship. Pulse drive power parameters. Navigation programs. Fleet coordinates.
Security codes.
Six ocular systems scanned the alien vessel above. Reading the communications array. Weapon systems. Hull composition. Ship layout.
The nanite supersystem began to weave the threads together. Assembling a solid skeleton, molded after the very schematics locked in the Annunaki craft. Building it back from scratch. Repurposing the catabolized remains of the crew within.
Like an unfolding flower, the petals of the massive silver construct peeled away. Still trailing molten silver, fresh from the recombination process, the small bladelike craft exited the monster’s body, towards the hovering Annunaki mothership above.
“Bridge, we have a transmission from Kalvek va’Thorosh on the planet’s surface, timestamp [three minutes] ago. Signal quality is low, will require time to filter out interference.” The crew member examined his holoscreen. “Sandstorm moving over the landing zone. Possibly accounting for the delay.”
Bridge officer Musda va’Airru examined the digital map of the planet. “Their suits aren’t meant for prolonged operations. If they get caught in the sandstorm, their Mesozin gas supplies will expire in [hours]. We need to mount a search-and-rescue.”
“Bridge, we have the Pazuzu currently on approach.” Another crew member opened up the viewport. The wide, knifelike craft cruised towards the Nergal, on docking approach.
Musda’s brow-horns narrowed. “Did they leave Kalvek behind?”
She swiped across the holoscreen. “Hail the Pazuzu. Patch me through.”
The communication module came online.
“This is Musda va’Airru of the Nergal. Identify yourself and souls on board.”
There was only static at first. Then, a synthesized voice, one she recognized as belonging to a robotic Annunaki body.
“This is Urak va’Ugallu, Templar class warrior. Entering passkey and docking codes now.” The codes flashed on the screen sequentially.
“Codes check out.” The communications officer turned to Musda.
“Urak. We received an urgent transmission from Kalvek va’Thorosh [three minutes] ago and we’re picking up a sandstorm planetside. What the [expletive] is going on?”
“Kalvek is dead. The others probably too.” Urak’s voice was cracked, distorted. Perhaps his voice module was damaged, Musda thought. “The sandstorm wiped half of us out. Separated us. I don’t know how I managed to get back to the Pazuzu. Dragged three others with me. One seriously wounded.”
“Did you try to search for the others? Commander Anzu va’Apsu is missing as well.”
“Couldn’t find anyone else. Couldn’t’ stay longer. Another [half-minute] and the sandstorm would have choked up our pulse engine.” Urak paused. “Clear us quickly, and prepare the medical bay. Kainil is messed up pretty bad. His suit cracked and it looks like his ventral sac is punctured. Don’t know how much longer he can hold together.”
“Understood.” Musda quickly provided the clearance code. Time was of the essence. “Opening hangar doors now.”
There was a clattering noise somewhere behind her. Musda spun around and nearly crashed into the wild-eyed form of Anzu va’Apsu.
“Commander Anzu—?” She looked at him, alarmed. This body was new, fresh out of the Nergal’s hold. Excess fluidics dripped from his shell. His bionic eyes roved over her, darting wildly. Post-neural transfer delirium, she realized. She gripped the shoulders of the metallic form firmly.
“Commander. It’s me, Musda. Calm down, you’ve just been uploaded.” The green glowing eyes focused on her face. The synthetic frame ceased its jerking movements.
“Musda. Yes.” Anzu was back. He appeared to be struggling to keep his balance. “I initiated the neural upload not a moment too soon. Ready weapons systems. Prepare to fire on my command!”
“Slow down, sir. You are still in shock after the transfer. What are you talking about? What are we firing on?”
The commander whirled around, fixing the taller Annunak with a frightened glare. “Something is on its way. Something terrible—a creature the humans have forged. It may yet be vulnerable in flight. We must strike now!”
“Bridge, hangar doors are now open for docking. Pazuzu on final approach.” The crewmate looked from the crazed-eyed commander to the confused and clearly disturbed bridge officer, and turned hastily back to his screen.
“The Pazuzu?” Anzu stared blankly at Musda.
“Yes, the Pazuzu. Urak’s at the helm, bringing the remaining members of the landing party. Once Kainil gets medical attention, we’ll send out a search party for the rest.”
Anzu’s eyes widened in horror.
“The Pazuzu was destroyed on the planet’s surface,” he said in quiet terror, “and Urak va’Ugallu is dead.”
Nothing stirred on the bridge. Musda stared back in shock.
Anzu leapt into action, sprinting to the command deck. “Close the hangar!” he hollered into the comms system. “Shut it out! Whatever that thing is, it is not the Pazuzu! Do not, I repeat, do not let it inside!”
The Pazuzu had just passed the threshold and was approaching the flight deck when the alarms blared. Behind it, the massive hangar doors began to close.
“What the [expletive]?” A technician muttered under his space-operations suit. “Ground crew, which idiot closed the doors? Damn near clipped the Pazuzu on its way in!”
“Someone is initiating manual closure from the command deck,” a colleague answered.
“Is there a problem?” Urak’s metallic voice came in via the two-way broadcast channel.
“No, just a minor hiccup.” The technician spoke back through the channel. He then switched to open broadcast. “Ground crew, direct the Pazuzu for landing. I’ll head to command deck and see if we can find out what the [expletive] is going on.”
The diamond-shaped craft slowly touched down on the deck, balancing deftly on all six thrusters, landing gently on the metal surface.
“Easy does it.” Urak’s voice came again. “Good.”
The Pazuzu’s cockpit opened, the panels parting smoothly. Urak’s form was seated at the flight controls, motionless.
“Urak, where’s Kainil?” A support technician waved his arms. There was no answer. “Open the main doors now, let’s get him out. The medical team is prepped.”
“Ground crew, something is wrong.” The head engineer broadcast into all channels.
“Urak, are you alright?” The technician approached the Pazuzu slowly. He activated his own communication module. “All hands, be advised. Pilot appears to be suffering from probable acute deceleration-induced psychosis. I need med, in here, now!”
The head engineer looked up from his holoscreen, panic apparent on his face as he realized what the bridge officer was telling him.
“All crew, evacuate the deck immediately and lock down the hangar. I repeat, evacuate and lockdown, now!”
“What?” The technician turned around, puzzled, looking at his companions.
He did not see Urak’s form lift from the Pazuzu’s seat, suspended at the head by a silver tentacle.
The technician died instantly. A spray of blue blood colored the grey deck as a silver blade retracted back from his torso.
“Oh [expletive],” a nearby engineer blurted.
The deck erupted in cries of alarm. The Pazuzu was melting, shifting, reforming. Silver tentacles swept across the deck. Half the ground crew died within [seconds], sheared by blades, impaled by slender appendages. A whirlwind of blood and gore splattered the walls.
“All hands, weapons free! Open the locker, now, now, now!” The head engineer screamed through the comms.
Whatever remained of the creature’s disguise was long-gone. The Pazuzu’s smooth, elegant form had disappeared, now replaced by the malevolent, jagged frame of some multi-limbed creature. It filled the height of the hangar. Six white glowing orbs, like eyes, fixed to its forefront. Twin claws, each twice as long as an Annunak was high, extended forth, shearing across the deck, cleaving both flesh and metal. Two engineers had managed to access their pulse cannons and were firing wildly at the beast. The first died when a tentacle bisected him cleanly. The second died in the backswing of the same tentacle after throwing down his cannon and attempting to flee.
All the while, the limp form of Urak va’Ugallu dangled above the creature like a lure, suspended comically by a single tentacle. The head engineer watched in horror as the mockery of an Annunaki form detached from its appendage, dropped to the deck, and began to change.
Urak’s torso began to split open. Silver fluid flowed over his limbs. His head twisted, almost as if in agony, as the facial plate cracked open to reveal a set of six eyes, freshly grown into his skull. As the Annunak dropped face-down onto the deck, the slender arms peeled away to reveal a set of blades. Tentacles trailed down from the open gash in his torso. His three legs bent backwards, joints cracking, elongating.
The quadrupedal creature looked around, noticed the stunned engineer, and pounced. His screams ended within an instant.
Within its shell, the creature’s expansive AI-core began to break down the data from the consumed Annunaki ship. Pulse drive power parameters. Navigation programs. Fleet coordinates.
Security codes.
Six ocular systems scanned the alien vessel above. Reading the communications array. Weapon systems. Hull composition. Ship layout.
The nanite supersystem began to weave the threads together. Assembling a solid skeleton, molded after the very schematics locked in the Annunaki craft. Building it back from scratch. Repurposing the catabolized remains of the crew within.
Like an unfolding flower, the petals of the massive silver construct peeled away. Still trailing molten silver, fresh from the recombination process, the small bladelike craft exited the monster’s body, towards the hovering Annunaki mothership above.
“Bridge, we have a transmission from Kalvek va’Thorosh on the planet’s surface, timestamp [three minutes] ago. Signal quality is low, will require time to filter out interference.” The crew member examined his holoscreen. “Sandstorm moving over the landing zone. Possibly accounting for the delay.”
Bridge officer Musda va’Airru examined the digital map of the planet. “Their suits aren’t meant for prolonged operations. If they get caught in the sandstorm, their Mesozin gas supplies will expire in [hours]. We need to mount a search-and-rescue.”
“Bridge, we have the Pazuzu currently on approach.” Another crew member opened up the viewport. The wide, knifelike craft cruised towards the Nergal, on docking approach.
Musda’s brow-horns narrowed. “Did they leave Kalvek behind?”
She swiped across the holoscreen. “Hail the Pazuzu. Patch me through.”
The communication module came online.
“This is Musda va’Airru of the Nergal. Identify yourself and souls on board.”
There was only static at first. Then, a synthesized voice, one she recognized as belonging to a robotic Annunaki body.
“This is Urak va’Ugallu, Templar class warrior. Entering passkey and docking codes now.” The codes flashed on the screen sequentially.
“Codes check out.” The communications officer turned to Musda.
“Urak. We received an urgent transmission from Kalvek va’Thorosh [three minutes] ago and we’re picking up a sandstorm planetside. What the [expletive] is going on?”
“Kalvek is dead. The others probably too.” Urak’s voice was cracked, distorted. Perhaps his voice module was damaged, Musda thought. “The sandstorm wiped half of us out. Separated us. I don’t know how I managed to get back to the Pazuzu. Dragged three others with me. One seriously wounded.”
“Did you try to search for the others? Commander Anzu va’Apsu is missing as well.”
“Couldn’t find anyone else. Couldn’t’ stay longer. Another [half-minute] and the sandstorm would have choked up our pulse engine.” Urak paused. “Clear us quickly, and prepare the medical bay. Kainil is messed up pretty bad. His suit cracked and it looks like his ventral sac is punctured. Don’t know how much longer he can hold together.”
“Understood.” Musda quickly provided the clearance code. Time was of the essence. “Opening hangar doors now.”
There was a clattering noise somewhere behind her. Musda spun around and nearly crashed into the wild-eyed form of Anzu va’Apsu.
“Commander Anzu—?” She looked at him, alarmed. This body was new, fresh out of the Nergal’s hold. Excess fluidics dripped from his shell. His bionic eyes roved over her, darting wildly. Post-neural transfer delirium, she realized. She gripped the shoulders of the metallic form firmly.
“Commander. It’s me, Musda. Calm down, you’ve just been uploaded.” The green glowing eyes focused on her face. The synthetic frame ceased its jerking movements.
“Musda. Yes.” Anzu was back. He appeared to be struggling to keep his balance. “I initiated the neural upload not a moment too soon. Ready weapons systems. Prepare to fire on my command!”
“Slow down, sir. You are still in shock after the transfer. What are you talking about? What are we firing on?”
The commander whirled around, fixing the taller Annunak with a frightened glare. “Something is on its way. Something terrible—a creature the humans have forged. It may yet be vulnerable in flight. We must strike now!”
“Bridge, hangar doors are now open for docking. Pazuzu on final approach.” The crewmate looked from the crazed-eyed commander to the confused and clearly disturbed bridge officer, and turned hastily back to his screen.
“The Pazuzu?” Anzu stared blankly at Musda.
“Yes, the Pazuzu. Urak’s at the helm, bringing the remaining members of the landing party. Once Kainil gets medical attention, we’ll send out a search party for the rest.”
Anzu’s eyes widened in horror.
“The Pazuzu was destroyed on the planet’s surface,” he said in quiet terror, “and Urak va’Ugallu is dead.”
Nothing stirred on the bridge. Musda stared back in shock.
Anzu leapt into action, sprinting to the command deck. “Close the hangar!” he hollered into the comms system. “Shut it out! Whatever that thing is, it is not the Pazuzu! Do not, I repeat, do not let it inside!”
The Pazuzu had just passed the threshold and was approaching the flight deck when the alarms blared. Behind it, the massive hangar doors began to close.
“What the [expletive]?” A technician muttered under his space-operations suit. “Ground crew, which idiot closed the doors? Damn near clipped the Pazuzu on its way in!”
“Someone is initiating manual closure from the command deck,” a colleague answered.
“Is there a problem?” Urak’s metallic voice came in via the two-way broadcast channel.
“No, just a minor hiccup.” The technician spoke back through the channel. He then switched to open broadcast. “Ground crew, direct the Pazuzu for landing. I’ll head to command deck and see if we can find out what the [expletive] is going on.”
The diamond-shaped craft slowly touched down on the deck, balancing deftly on all six thrusters, landing gently on the metal surface.
“Easy does it.” Urak’s voice came again. “Good.”
The Pazuzu’s cockpit opened, the panels parting smoothly. Urak’s form was seated at the flight controls, motionless.
“Urak, where’s Kainil?” A support technician waved his arms. There was no answer. “Open the main doors now, let’s get him out. The medical team is prepped.”
“Ground crew, something is wrong.” The head engineer broadcast into all channels.
“Urak, are you alright?” The technician approached the Pazuzu slowly. He activated his own communication module. “All hands, be advised. Pilot appears to be suffering from probable acute deceleration-induced psychosis. I need med, in here, now!”
The head engineer looked up from his holoscreen, panic apparent on his face as he realized what the bridge officer was telling him.
“All crew, evacuate the deck immediately and lock down the hangar. I repeat, evacuate and lockdown, now!”
“What?” The technician turned around, puzzled, looking at his companions.
He did not see Urak’s form lift from the Pazuzu’s seat, suspended at the head by a silver tentacle.
The technician died instantly. A spray of blue blood colored the grey deck as a silver blade retracted back from his torso.
“Oh [expletive],” a nearby engineer blurted.
The deck erupted in cries of alarm. The Pazuzu was melting, shifting, reforming. Silver tentacles swept across the deck. Half the ground crew died within [seconds], sheared by blades, impaled by slender appendages. A whirlwind of blood and gore splattered the walls.
“All hands, weapons free! Open the locker, now, now, now!” The head engineer screamed through the comms.
Whatever remained of the creature’s disguise was long-gone. The Pazuzu’s smooth, elegant form had disappeared, now replaced by the malevolent, jagged frame of some multi-limbed creature. It filled the height of the hangar. Six white glowing orbs, like eyes, fixed to its forefront. Twin claws, each twice as long as an Annunak was high, extended forth, shearing across the deck, cleaving both flesh and metal. Two engineers had managed to access their pulse cannons and were firing wildly at the beast. The first died when a tentacle bisected him cleanly. The second died in the backswing of the same tentacle after throwing down his cannon and attempting to flee.
All the while, the limp form of Urak va’Ugallu dangled above the creature like a lure, suspended comically by a single tentacle. The head engineer watched in horror as the mockery of an Annunaki form detached from its appendage, dropped to the deck, and began to change.
Urak’s torso began to split open. Silver fluid flowed over his limbs. His head twisted, almost as if in agony, as the facial plate cracked open to reveal a set of six eyes, freshly grown into his skull. As the Annunak dropped face-down onto the deck, the slender arms peeled away to reveal a set of blades. Tentacles trailed down from the open gash in his torso. His three legs bent backwards, joints cracking, elongating.
The quadrupedal creature looked around, noticed the stunned engineer, and pounced. His screams ended within an instant.
As the carnage took place on the flight deck, whatever few crew that remained alive did not notice the new drones, emerging one-by-one from the innards of the thing-that-was-the-Pazuzu.
Fewer still noticed them spreading out across the hangar, pouncing on the parked landing craft and fighter ships, tearing down the metal, reshaping it.
They were joined by a new drone, different and somewhat smaller than the others. As its ungainly form prowled across the deck, Urak’s cracked faceplate was still visible on its ruined skull.
In the void, the monster shifted form. Shedding its bullet-like shape, it once again assumed its humanoid visage. The central AI picked up the increasing volume of drone chatter aboard the alien ship above. Exponential growth. Once the drones had attained the critical population of operational units, the reproductive phase was unstoppable. The ship was as good as dead.
Schematics downloaded into its systems by the thousands. Scavenged from the ship’s many automated terminals, or scrounged from the fallen bodies of synthetic alien lifeforms. New weapons. Defense systems. Engine upgrades.
It needed raw material.
The capital ship’s hangar doors burst open as a small swarm of drones exited, each now independently powered by a smaller version of the pulse engine reverse-engineered from the alien landing craft.
The drones fused with the mech. Shells melding seamlessly into its own, appendages retracting, liquid silver flowing over its metallic skin.
The monster grew. The nanites assembled into a new exoskeleton, several times larger. The mech expanded. Claws elongated.
Schematics downloaded:
Light-speed reinforced ramming prow.
Positronic torpedo.
Gravimetric beam projection device.
Force-field generator.
New data came in, beamed in from the dozens of drones that now swarmed the capital ship. The coordinates of the rest of the fleet orbiting around Mars.
The giant mech turned its six eyes toward the distant red planet, and fired its pulse engines.
*
The first ship never saw it coming. Orbiting above the red planet, the commander of the frigate-class Hanbi was unprepared for the shock.
The giant seemed to materialize out of nowhere. One moment, clear space—the next, the viewport was filled with the titanic form of a shelled creature, its metallic form still glowing with the sheen of acutely decelerating from light-speed.
The mech’s blades, their density and microstructure precisely calibrated against the hull’s own, sliced cleanly into the Hanbi.
Thousands died instantly as the bridge exploded into the vacuum of space. Thousands more died as the mechanical monster superheated its blades, turning the remains of the Hanbi into an inferno.
As newly-formed silvery drones began to congregate around the useless carcass of the vessel, the mechanical monstrosity fired its short-range pulse engines, accelerating towards the nearby Naramsin.
“Sir, the Nergal and Hanbi are down!”
The commander flew to the command deck, his face draining of color. “What the [expletive]? What is going on?”
A blue streak was moving across the viewport, speeding obliquely across the screen. In the distance, the burning forms of the two downed starships drifted placidly.
“Possible alien organism, it’s huge, moving fast!” The bridge officer called out. “Sir, it’s already moving towards the Naramsin! Speed—oh holy [expletive]—it’s at nine-tenths light speed!”
The creature was at last within range for the magnification sensors to work. Now they saw it, expanded on the screen. An alien, four-limbed form. Black and silver, a meshwork of curved lines and jagged, bladed protuberances. And a malevolent, six-eyed gaze.
The Annunaki commander slammed a fist on the command deck, bringing up the weapons screen.
“Activate all weapon ports. Spare nothing. Somebody give me a lock on that thing and let’s bring it down!”
The Second Fleet was at last reacting. Torpedoes began to launch. Powerful gravimetric beams fired into the void.
The monster’s agility was unnatural. It changed directions quickly, evading the beams with maneuvers that would tear even the fastest Annunaki ship to smithereens. Torpedoes veered off, deflected by precisely applied pulses from its force generators.
It began to deploy its own weapons. Answering the torpedo salvo with one of its own. Firing several rounds from freshly-synthesized plasma lances on its shoulders. They were lethal, more precise, heavier in firepower than the originals they were derived from—yet they were only distractions. The monster’s true weapons were its dual claws, extensions of its limbs. Fused with the remains of the Hanbi’s hull, integrated with the schematics for the hardened ramming prows of Annunaki charger frigates—they gleamed in the illumination of the ongoing battle.
A fighter fleet disintegrated, annihilated by the storm of torpedoes. The remaining orbital fighters were gunned down by plasma bolts. The Naramsin was defenseless.
In a final attempt to disengage, the Naramsin attempted to fire its thrusters at full power. The warp engine began to spin, preparing for an emergency jump that would have in all likelihood failed. It was not enough to prevent the creature’s inevitable approach.
The monster landed on the cruiser, and grasped its hull with bladelike fingers.
The drones began to spread over the hull. The ships’ outer defenses were now useless—the Hanbi had provided all the data the drones needed to adapt, to evade the ship’s proximity sensors. Soon, the Naramsin was swarmed.
An explosion disintegrated the front of the ship as the hull was breached—the decompression vented nearly half the ship into space almost instantaneously.
Whatever crew survived the decompression, were lost to the swarm of drones that now held free rein over the Naramsin.
The Naramsin’s central data core fell apart beneath the drones’ onslaught. One crucial transfer of data later, the mech knew what to do.
The Naramsin began to turn slowly, towards the rest of the fleet, firing its port thrusters. Missiles still fell, plasma bolts still descended upon the monster and the fallen ship that was now beyond saving. Layers and layers of drones spread across the ship, shedding one by one against the onslaught, using their shells as shields, their numbers so vast as to make the loss inconsequential.
The monster provided the command, relayed through the drone network.
“What the [expletive] is that thing?” The commander of the Shamash was nearly screaming now. The salvo of torpedoes had little to no effect. “What is it doing to that ship?”
“The Naramsin is turning, sir.” The bridge officer sounded on the verge of collapse. “It is not consuming the ship. It is repurposing it. It knows. By [expletive], it knows. We are all doomed.”
“What’s that? What do you mean? Answer me!”
The bridge officer looked at his superior in despair.
“The Naramsin is a Class Eight planetcracker cruiser.”
The beam fired. Tearing through space, expanding across the starships gathered around the gas giant.
A planetcracker cannon. The Naramsin was a heavy orbital bombardment vessel, carrying a weapon meant to destroy entire worlds. The Enlil had in fact provided separate instructions to the Naramsin’s commander, to turn the ship’s beam on the humans’ homeworld once the Nergal had retreated from its orbit, to rid the Annunaki of the legacy of humanity once and for all.
Against the surface of a rocky planet, the beam would have cut steadily into the planet’s layers until it reached its core, initiating a powerful fission reaction that would have caused the planet to collapse in on itself.
Against Annunaki ships, the weapon was overkill.
Entire vessels vanished nearly instantly, their hulls disintegrating on a molecular level under temperatures exceeding that of the core of quasars. In the emptiness of space, their demise was noiseless.
As the beam shut off, its power cells depleted, a backblast of energy tore through the rest of the fleet. Gravimetric stabilizers failed. Engines broke apart. In the void, dozens of Annunaki ships drifted, powerless.
Gravity did its work. Slowly, inexorably, the ships began to sink towards the gas giant. Disappearing into its atmosphere, lost within its mass. The might of the Annunaki fleet vanished within the clouds of the fifth planet.
Perhaps it was the fusion core of an Annunaki ship going critical, or the misfiring of a damaged weapons port. The explosion emitted a burst of light on the gas giant’s surface—and the chain reaction was instant.
The great planet blazed in a kaleidoscope of light as its atmosphere ignited. Untold quantities of energy surged through its mass as the Annunaki ships within disintegrated, blown apart by the explosion of supercharged power.
Once upon a time, the planet had a name. Taken after the chief deity of an early civilization, a long-extant sub-branch of human society that laid the foundation for its future. The name was forgotten, discarded after the Last Descent and replaced by a banal designation, eradicated by the Annunaki invaders that had sought to rid itself of humanity once and for all.
Now, if only for a brief moment, Jupiter reigned supreme once more.
Fewer still noticed them spreading out across the hangar, pouncing on the parked landing craft and fighter ships, tearing down the metal, reshaping it.
They were joined by a new drone, different and somewhat smaller than the others. As its ungainly form prowled across the deck, Urak’s cracked faceplate was still visible on its ruined skull.
In the void, the monster shifted form. Shedding its bullet-like shape, it once again assumed its humanoid visage. The central AI picked up the increasing volume of drone chatter aboard the alien ship above. Exponential growth. Once the drones had attained the critical population of operational units, the reproductive phase was unstoppable. The ship was as good as dead.
Schematics downloaded into its systems by the thousands. Scavenged from the ship’s many automated terminals, or scrounged from the fallen bodies of synthetic alien lifeforms. New weapons. Defense systems. Engine upgrades.
It needed raw material.
The capital ship’s hangar doors burst open as a small swarm of drones exited, each now independently powered by a smaller version of the pulse engine reverse-engineered from the alien landing craft.
The drones fused with the mech. Shells melding seamlessly into its own, appendages retracting, liquid silver flowing over its metallic skin.
The monster grew. The nanites assembled into a new exoskeleton, several times larger. The mech expanded. Claws elongated.
Schematics downloaded:
Light-speed reinforced ramming prow.
Positronic torpedo.
Gravimetric beam projection device.
Force-field generator.
New data came in, beamed in from the dozens of drones that now swarmed the capital ship. The coordinates of the rest of the fleet orbiting around Mars.
The giant mech turned its six eyes toward the distant red planet, and fired its pulse engines.
*
The first ship never saw it coming. Orbiting above the red planet, the commander of the frigate-class Hanbi was unprepared for the shock.
The giant seemed to materialize out of nowhere. One moment, clear space—the next, the viewport was filled with the titanic form of a shelled creature, its metallic form still glowing with the sheen of acutely decelerating from light-speed.
The mech’s blades, their density and microstructure precisely calibrated against the hull’s own, sliced cleanly into the Hanbi.
Thousands died instantly as the bridge exploded into the vacuum of space. Thousands more died as the mechanical monster superheated its blades, turning the remains of the Hanbi into an inferno.
As newly-formed silvery drones began to congregate around the useless carcass of the vessel, the mechanical monstrosity fired its short-range pulse engines, accelerating towards the nearby Naramsin.
“Sir, the Nergal and Hanbi are down!”
The commander flew to the command deck, his face draining of color. “What the [expletive]? What is going on?”
A blue streak was moving across the viewport, speeding obliquely across the screen. In the distance, the burning forms of the two downed starships drifted placidly.
“Possible alien organism, it’s huge, moving fast!” The bridge officer called out. “Sir, it’s already moving towards the Naramsin! Speed—oh holy [expletive]—it’s at nine-tenths light speed!”
The creature was at last within range for the magnification sensors to work. Now they saw it, expanded on the screen. An alien, four-limbed form. Black and silver, a meshwork of curved lines and jagged, bladed protuberances. And a malevolent, six-eyed gaze.
The Annunaki commander slammed a fist on the command deck, bringing up the weapons screen.
“Activate all weapon ports. Spare nothing. Somebody give me a lock on that thing and let’s bring it down!”
The Second Fleet was at last reacting. Torpedoes began to launch. Powerful gravimetric beams fired into the void.
The monster’s agility was unnatural. It changed directions quickly, evading the beams with maneuvers that would tear even the fastest Annunaki ship to smithereens. Torpedoes veered off, deflected by precisely applied pulses from its force generators.
It began to deploy its own weapons. Answering the torpedo salvo with one of its own. Firing several rounds from freshly-synthesized plasma lances on its shoulders. They were lethal, more precise, heavier in firepower than the originals they were derived from—yet they were only distractions. The monster’s true weapons were its dual claws, extensions of its limbs. Fused with the remains of the Hanbi’s hull, integrated with the schematics for the hardened ramming prows of Annunaki charger frigates—they gleamed in the illumination of the ongoing battle.
A fighter fleet disintegrated, annihilated by the storm of torpedoes. The remaining orbital fighters were gunned down by plasma bolts. The Naramsin was defenseless.
In a final attempt to disengage, the Naramsin attempted to fire its thrusters at full power. The warp engine began to spin, preparing for an emergency jump that would have in all likelihood failed. It was not enough to prevent the creature’s inevitable approach.
The monster landed on the cruiser, and grasped its hull with bladelike fingers.
The drones began to spread over the hull. The ships’ outer defenses were now useless—the Hanbi had provided all the data the drones needed to adapt, to evade the ship’s proximity sensors. Soon, the Naramsin was swarmed.
An explosion disintegrated the front of the ship as the hull was breached—the decompression vented nearly half the ship into space almost instantaneously.
Whatever crew survived the decompression, were lost to the swarm of drones that now held free rein over the Naramsin.
The Naramsin’s central data core fell apart beneath the drones’ onslaught. One crucial transfer of data later, the mech knew what to do.
The Naramsin began to turn slowly, towards the rest of the fleet, firing its port thrusters. Missiles still fell, plasma bolts still descended upon the monster and the fallen ship that was now beyond saving. Layers and layers of drones spread across the ship, shedding one by one against the onslaught, using their shells as shields, their numbers so vast as to make the loss inconsequential.
The monster provided the command, relayed through the drone network.
“What the [expletive] is that thing?” The commander of the Shamash was nearly screaming now. The salvo of torpedoes had little to no effect. “What is it doing to that ship?”
“The Naramsin is turning, sir.” The bridge officer sounded on the verge of collapse. “It is not consuming the ship. It is repurposing it. It knows. By [expletive], it knows. We are all doomed.”
“What’s that? What do you mean? Answer me!”
The bridge officer looked at his superior in despair.
“The Naramsin is a Class Eight planetcracker cruiser.”
The beam fired. Tearing through space, expanding across the starships gathered around the gas giant.
A planetcracker cannon. The Naramsin was a heavy orbital bombardment vessel, carrying a weapon meant to destroy entire worlds. The Enlil had in fact provided separate instructions to the Naramsin’s commander, to turn the ship’s beam on the humans’ homeworld once the Nergal had retreated from its orbit, to rid the Annunaki of the legacy of humanity once and for all.
Against the surface of a rocky planet, the beam would have cut steadily into the planet’s layers until it reached its core, initiating a powerful fission reaction that would have caused the planet to collapse in on itself.
Against Annunaki ships, the weapon was overkill.
Entire vessels vanished nearly instantly, their hulls disintegrating on a molecular level under temperatures exceeding that of the core of quasars. In the emptiness of space, their demise was noiseless.
As the beam shut off, its power cells depleted, a backblast of energy tore through the rest of the fleet. Gravimetric stabilizers failed. Engines broke apart. In the void, dozens of Annunaki ships drifted, powerless.
Gravity did its work. Slowly, inexorably, the ships began to sink towards the gas giant. Disappearing into its atmosphere, lost within its mass. The might of the Annunaki fleet vanished within the clouds of the fifth planet.
Perhaps it was the fusion core of an Annunaki ship going critical, or the misfiring of a damaged weapons port. The explosion emitted a burst of light on the gas giant’s surface—and the chain reaction was instant.
The great planet blazed in a kaleidoscope of light as its atmosphere ignited. Untold quantities of energy surged through its mass as the Annunaki ships within disintegrated, blown apart by the explosion of supercharged power.
Once upon a time, the planet had a name. Taken after the chief deity of an early civilization, a long-extant sub-branch of human society that laid the foundation for its future. The name was forgotten, discarded after the Last Descent and replaced by a banal designation, eradicated by the Annunaki invaders that had sought to rid itself of humanity once and for all.
Now, if only for a brief moment, Jupiter reigned supreme once more.
Anzu was alone. The elder Annunak had uploaded once more, into his sixty-sixth cybernetic body, before the Nergal was overrun.
He had boarded an escape craft in the Naramsin’s hold and took off immediately. He abandoned his fleet. He had to. There was no helping the Annunaki. Only one hope remained—to warn Nibiru of the horror that lived on the dead planet.
He could feel his consciousness beginning to decay under the stress of two consecutive uploads within [minutes]. There was no other port for him to download himself into. No other bodies. The Second Fleet was lost. Only Nibiru remained for him, the homeworld a galaxy away.
The small vessel hurtled through space, alone. He passed the Ring of Okhilan. Without a warp engine, the ship would take nearly [fifty years] to reach Nibiru with a simple pulse engine. But the pulse engine could function continuously for three times that length of time. He simply needed to wait. Waiting came easy to a being that no longer relied on organic resources.
“Monster. Beast. Horror.” Anzu’s hands trembled. “You may have your planet. Keep it, if you wish. Your world is silent forever more. Your masters are dead. You keep the dead, and only the dead. Humanity will never rise again.”
Anzu settled in for the long voyage. Perhaps he could alter his system protocols, to put himself into hibernation. He had not done so before, and used to be hesitant of doing so, but the [fifty-year] journey was unbearable otherwise.
Anzu was about to enter deep sleep when the craft began to shake. The engines died.
He tapped the controls. Unresponsive.
His mind began to pound.
Anzu slammed his faceplate against the screen, howling in rage. He did not see the silver tentacles snaking around his torso, or see, on the outside,the wings of the small craft begin peeling away, tapering into blades.
But his horrified eyes saw in full the dreaded sight of his control panel melting away, its outer covering peeling back to reveal six white eyes.
Anzu screamed noiselessly into space.
He had boarded an escape craft in the Naramsin’s hold and took off immediately. He abandoned his fleet. He had to. There was no helping the Annunaki. Only one hope remained—to warn Nibiru of the horror that lived on the dead planet.
He could feel his consciousness beginning to decay under the stress of two consecutive uploads within [minutes]. There was no other port for him to download himself into. No other bodies. The Second Fleet was lost. Only Nibiru remained for him, the homeworld a galaxy away.
The small vessel hurtled through space, alone. He passed the Ring of Okhilan. Without a warp engine, the ship would take nearly [fifty years] to reach Nibiru with a simple pulse engine. But the pulse engine could function continuously for three times that length of time. He simply needed to wait. Waiting came easy to a being that no longer relied on organic resources.
“Monster. Beast. Horror.” Anzu’s hands trembled. “You may have your planet. Keep it, if you wish. Your world is silent forever more. Your masters are dead. You keep the dead, and only the dead. Humanity will never rise again.”
Anzu settled in for the long voyage. Perhaps he could alter his system protocols, to put himself into hibernation. He had not done so before, and used to be hesitant of doing so, but the [fifty-year] journey was unbearable otherwise.
Anzu was about to enter deep sleep when the craft began to shake. The engines died.
He tapped the controls. Unresponsive.
His mind began to pound.
Anzu slammed his faceplate against the screen, howling in rage. He did not see the silver tentacles snaking around his torso, or see, on the outside,the wings of the small craft begin peeling away, tapering into blades.
But his horrified eyes saw in full the dreaded sight of his control panel melting away, its outer covering peeling back to reveal six white eyes.
Anzu screamed noiselessly into space.
Kalvek stumbled. He wheezed. His eyes stung, and his ventral sac felt like it was being torn from his throat.
The Annunak science officer wandered aimlessly. Large rocky formations loomed overhead, like fingers jutting upwards into the mouth of the cavern. The heat was unbearable. His temperature regulation module had short-circuited several [minutes] ago.
Fate was merciless. Instead of dying instantly, painlessly, upon falling into the underground cavern, fate had seen fit for him to survive. He had slammed into the rock from a height of [two thousand feet], yet somehow survived. It was cruel. His Mesozin stores were but droplets in the tank, causing his breathing to become labored and painful in his body’s last attempts to wring life from the depleting reserves. He was sure that his suit was breached in at least a dozen places. Only the darkness of the cavern prevented him from being flash-fried by the unrelenting solar radiation, but the ambient radiation seeping into the suit was rampaging unimpeded through his body. Kalvek wondered, academically, if he would survive radiation poisoning long enough to die of cancer.
With nowhere else to go, he squeezed under a rocky overhang. The survival instinct, the basest impulse inherent in every sentient creature, drove him to survive at all costs, as long as possible—even though his mind had accepted the inevitability of his death. The Pazuzu was gone. His communication module was destroyed. He would have been given up for dead. He was either going to suffocate, starve, or dry out.
A shrill chirruping noise interrupted his thoughts. He looked above, and his hearts stopped for a beat.
A multitude. Where one nightmare was not enough, fate had seen fit to send a legion of them his way. Thousands upon thousands of black-and-silver shelled monstrosities, claws and tentacles clambering over rock, tens of thousands of white, glowing eyes dotting the darkness. Down they crawled, streaming into the cavern, in such numbers that the sunlight dimmed. The noise was deafening.
Kalvek prepared to vent his suit, to suffocate himself before he was torn to pieces.
They hadn’t seemed to notice him. They were swarming around the center of the cave, circling, crawling over each other.
Building.
Kalvek’s sensors mapped out the shape of a spire, slowly taking form within the cavern. Growing in height and width with every passing [second], assembled from an impossible amount of metal. Upwards it grew, towering towards the mouth of the cave, so large now as to dwarf the combined mass of the drones that were even now laboring to extent it higher still.
What are they doing? Kalvek thought lazily. It was becoming harder and harder to breath. This was not the drowsy prodrome of Mesozin deprivation. Something else was in the air. Something toxic.
His sensors rang. Toxic gas. Building up in the cavern, in ever-growing proportions. A diatomic molecule, seeping into his suit, diffusing into his ventral sac, burning him on the inside.
Oxygen?
This was wrong. Oxygen was too light. It could not possibly be stable enough to resist decomposition under ionizing radiation. Without an atmosphere—
Atmosphere.
The sensors pinged. Again. Again.
Ozone. Nitrogen.
He looked around, head darting wildly. The spire had nearly filled the entire cavern, blotting out the sunlight. In the near-total darkness, amidst the deafening chatter of the drone swarm, he finally saw them. Glowing on the walls of the cavern, like small pearls, shimmering in the darkness.
He magnified his augmented vision, scanned one of them, and began to laugh. He coughed and laughed in furious succession even as his scanners decoded the genetic material from range. He laughed even harder when the analysis of the blob-like form was completed, and the characteristic human genome spread out before him in all its glory.
He collapsed to the ground, still unable to stop laughing. His Mesozin supplies were empty. His chest heaved, his throat began to swell. Even in his last moments, he was still capable of levity.
“Dead planet my [defecation port].”
Analysis complete. All hostiles eliminated.
Total schematics assimilated: 5 800 764
Current drone population: 7 800 544
Cryo-systems nominal.
Dormant embryo status: 576 human embryos in excellent condition.
Time to initiation of embryo maturation: 801 years 6 months 1 day
Hybridized ionic spire construction: 5 percent
Estimated time to completion: 322 years 5 months 12 days
Terraforming progress: 0.1 percent
Estimated time to completion: 766 years 2 months 14 days
The Annunak science officer wandered aimlessly. Large rocky formations loomed overhead, like fingers jutting upwards into the mouth of the cavern. The heat was unbearable. His temperature regulation module had short-circuited several [minutes] ago.
Fate was merciless. Instead of dying instantly, painlessly, upon falling into the underground cavern, fate had seen fit for him to survive. He had slammed into the rock from a height of [two thousand feet], yet somehow survived. It was cruel. His Mesozin stores were but droplets in the tank, causing his breathing to become labored and painful in his body’s last attempts to wring life from the depleting reserves. He was sure that his suit was breached in at least a dozen places. Only the darkness of the cavern prevented him from being flash-fried by the unrelenting solar radiation, but the ambient radiation seeping into the suit was rampaging unimpeded through his body. Kalvek wondered, academically, if he would survive radiation poisoning long enough to die of cancer.
With nowhere else to go, he squeezed under a rocky overhang. The survival instinct, the basest impulse inherent in every sentient creature, drove him to survive at all costs, as long as possible—even though his mind had accepted the inevitability of his death. The Pazuzu was gone. His communication module was destroyed. He would have been given up for dead. He was either going to suffocate, starve, or dry out.
A shrill chirruping noise interrupted his thoughts. He looked above, and his hearts stopped for a beat.
A multitude. Where one nightmare was not enough, fate had seen fit to send a legion of them his way. Thousands upon thousands of black-and-silver shelled monstrosities, claws and tentacles clambering over rock, tens of thousands of white, glowing eyes dotting the darkness. Down they crawled, streaming into the cavern, in such numbers that the sunlight dimmed. The noise was deafening.
Kalvek prepared to vent his suit, to suffocate himself before he was torn to pieces.
They hadn’t seemed to notice him. They were swarming around the center of the cave, circling, crawling over each other.
Building.
Kalvek’s sensors mapped out the shape of a spire, slowly taking form within the cavern. Growing in height and width with every passing [second], assembled from an impossible amount of metal. Upwards it grew, towering towards the mouth of the cave, so large now as to dwarf the combined mass of the drones that were even now laboring to extent it higher still.
What are they doing? Kalvek thought lazily. It was becoming harder and harder to breath. This was not the drowsy prodrome of Mesozin deprivation. Something else was in the air. Something toxic.
His sensors rang. Toxic gas. Building up in the cavern, in ever-growing proportions. A diatomic molecule, seeping into his suit, diffusing into his ventral sac, burning him on the inside.
Oxygen?
This was wrong. Oxygen was too light. It could not possibly be stable enough to resist decomposition under ionizing radiation. Without an atmosphere—
Atmosphere.
The sensors pinged. Again. Again.
Ozone. Nitrogen.
He looked around, head darting wildly. The spire had nearly filled the entire cavern, blotting out the sunlight. In the near-total darkness, amidst the deafening chatter of the drone swarm, he finally saw them. Glowing on the walls of the cavern, like small pearls, shimmering in the darkness.
He magnified his augmented vision, scanned one of them, and began to laugh. He coughed and laughed in furious succession even as his scanners decoded the genetic material from range. He laughed even harder when the analysis of the blob-like form was completed, and the characteristic human genome spread out before him in all its glory.
He collapsed to the ground, still unable to stop laughing. His Mesozin supplies were empty. His chest heaved, his throat began to swell. Even in his last moments, he was still capable of levity.
“Dead planet my [defecation port].”
Analysis complete. All hostiles eliminated.
Total schematics assimilated: 5 800 764
Current drone population: 7 800 544
Cryo-systems nominal.
Dormant embryo status: 576 human embryos in excellent condition.
Time to initiation of embryo maturation: 801 years 6 months 1 day
Hybridized ionic spire construction: 5 percent
Estimated time to completion: 322 years 5 months 12 days
Terraforming progress: 0.1 percent
Estimated time to completion: 766 years 2 months 14 days
И в окончание немного небольших историй.
Хуево что без перевода.
Есть что почитать на русском, кроме очевидных Путей и Снегова?
Есть что почитать на русском, кроме очевидных Путей и Снегова?
> Хуево что без перевода.
А ты попробуй английский поучить, заодно истории почитаешь. К несчастью, у меня из историй на русском лишь Пути и пара фанфиков на несколько сеттингов.
Тащи истории на немецком. Кидай фанфики.
Немецкая фантастика - она вобще существует? Сейчас? Во время оно был какой-то мега-комикс о десятитычелетнем человеке типа императора человечества, мелькал пару раз в сети и сгинул. Сейчас, такое впечатление, что фантастику пишут только англосаксы, японцы и русскоязычные.
Неа. То что есть это больше мистика и подростковое. К НФ причислять не следует.
Абу, ты заебал с этой капчей.
Они слабо подходят. Один из тех, которые я считаю хорошими и более-менее подходящим по тематике: https://ficbook.net/readfic/2913031 , остальные, мягко говоря, не очень, да и написано в них ~30 страниц. Если интересно, могу скинуть пару англоязычных фанфиков.
На немецком историй тоже нет. Большие истории постить, пока капчу нормальную не сделают, не буду, ибо гуглокапча сильно убога.
Log://Entry #12114
I am Cro'sul. Former Warlord and Chieftain of the Sol'ux clan. I am sure this will be my last entry. It's out there. I know it is. It has followed me since that damned containment breach. I should have paid attention. I should have realized what I was doing would eventually backfire. We have stayed far from that forsaken species. But no, we had tradition. We had never willingly fled from an enemy. We were a "proud" race. We were a "Noble" race. Had I known what was to come of this, I would have taken my own life and denied my own entrance to the great hall, where my ancestors lie.
It started with a simple blip. A blip on our galactic radar as it were, originating from what was previously thought to be an uninhabitable and as such uninhabited death world in the Sol star system a few decades ago. It seemed to be a probing message, which indicated whatever life form that was broadcasting it was unaware of any other forms of life in the universe, and was merely looking for a response.
Our first thought, as is with every new species we encounter, is to learn about them, and if possible, enslave them. If they offer resistance, we would crush them as we had every other species before. We have never lost an engagement, hell, we have never even lost a minor skirmish. But, we were not so confident that we would charge headlong into battle with a new form of prey that we would not try to learn about it first. Study it's strengths, it's weaknesses, so that we may exploit them when we assume control of their worlds.
We sent our science vessel, Nibiru, in an orbit near their system's outlying planet, Sol-9. From there, we could monitor the surface of the planet in question, Sol-3. What we saw was nothing out of the ordinary for most intelligent life bearing planets. An apex predator had taken control of the vast majority of Sol-3. What was interesting however, was that not only was this predator intelligent, it had segregated it's main populace and it's military. It was intriguing that they had a military to begin with, if they had no prior knowledge of other life in the universe.
Further study revealed the military was not to combat other life forms, but each other. We should have known then. We should have known this was not a species to be trifled with. That is not to say there was no infighting in our own race, we were a warlike race, and as such infighting for power was common. But not to the extent that this species did. They committed mass genocide of entire nations over petty disputes, that had nothing to do with establishing dominance, or gaining the title of alpha. It made no sense to us, it was almost as though they enjoyed it. This piqued our interest more than any species we had encountered before, and we sent scouting parties to collect some of them, which were brought back to our home world and studied.
Once there, they were placed in containment and experimented upon. Gravatic collars were placed on them in order to make the handling easier. I really love those collars. It attaches to the nervous system of the wearer and provides them with nutrients needed for most races to survive, eliminating the need for feeding. In addition, they completely paralyze any who try to lash out instantly. All it takes is a few quick tweaks for each individual species for it to work properly, and supply the correct nutrients.
The first subject we had identified itself as "Mar'cus", and his species was called "humanity", or "Human" for a single subject. Of course, it took days just to get this out of him. When he was first introduced to his holding cell, he did nothing but scream and defecate in his cell, which had to be cleaned every few hours. We had informed him of our intention to study him and he seemed to be compliant. It was worth noting, that he appeared to be an average human, possibly male due to the appendage near his lower extremities, but he was very very small in stature. Even the runts of our packs are at least twice as large as Mar'cus, both in height and width. With that said, his muscle to endoskeleton ratio was near impossible. Given the right circumstances, the force of his muscle alone could fracture his entire endoskeleton. The odd thing though was found that he never exerted all of his force, even when tasked with lifting heavy objects to test this theory, only about 40%.
He was later subjected to a more.. Invasive test to understand the composition of the chemicals that make up his body. To much of his protest I might add, we had to lower the sensitivity of the receptors in the room to quiet out his screams. For those of you who are not familiar with this particular practice, the Gravatic collar renders the subject unable to move, while our scientists remove the outermost layer of the carapace, or in this case, his "skin" has he called it. This allowed access to the muscle fibers and easier access for our machinery to collect the composition of his cells.
It was found that humans naturally produce Adrenaline when in danger. So much so in this case we had to replace our sensors THREE times to make sure it was not an anomaly. Adrenaline fetches a very high price to the right buyer, and a species that naturally produced it was a veritable gold mine. Of course, it meant we must be more careful with future subjects. As we all know, any species under the effects of adrenaline can preform feats otherwise impossible, and ignore normally fatal wounds. Had we not paralyzed Mar'cus before we began removing his skin, he could have caused a serious problem.
There was an organ found in his abdomen that was pumping a red fluid throughout the rest of his body, and was noted that it started to beat at in incredible rate when his skin was starting to be removed. The doctor mentioned starting the next phase of the testing, and another surprise, endorphins were rushed throughout Mar'Cus' body, and he died shortly after.
A species that could naturally produce adrenaline and endorphins. Humans could very well be our most profitable slaves yet. Not only did their immense muscle ratio allow them to be excellent potential slaves for physical labor such as mining sulfur on Krix'us IV, but they could be harvested and sold on the black market. We needed to experiment further. But before we collected more samples, we upped the security on the holding cells, in light of the whole adrenaline thing. Armed guards posted at the entrances, and plasma fences inside, that would stop any matter from passing through when activated.
Years passed, and we had collected hundreds of these humans and preformed all manor of tests on them, and learned much. They resembled much of our own species, in the way that they were primarily predators, with a high physical strength to mass ratio, and they nearly matched our intelligence, only being a few millennia behind in technology. This blood, was very interesting to us and how it was circulated through a series of tubes throughout their body. All of our subjects seemed to expire if too much was lost. This could be exploited in the coming war, as the humans were becoming suspicious of our science vessel orbiting their outlying planet.
Many of their civilians had actually spotted it, but did not know what it was. There were many claims, from moons, to rogue planets. A few of them actually figured out what it was, but they were proclaimed "insane" by their fellow humans. We needed to finish our research soon, begin conquering, and ultimately enslaving them. We needed to further learn about their cardiovascular system before we finally advanced our warships. It appeared to be their only critical weakness.
Our last three subjects appeared to be a clan or brood of some description. The male seemed highly protective of the female and smaller female, presumed to be his mate and offspring. Curious they had such small broods, and warranted investigation. First thing was first, applying the gravatic collars. That is the first time a human has actually lashed out at a guard. When Rok'Sul, my second in command, had attempted to fix the collar to the small female, the older female physically attacked Rok'sul, the male actually managed to grab his sidearm and shoot him in the mid-thorax. A non lethal shot, but still incredible that a creature less than one third the size of Rok'sul nearly killed him.
It was decided they needed to be contained in cells separated by the plasma fences. I believe this to be my most critical mistake. I should have killed the male. I should not have allowed him to watch what was to follow. It was decided that the child would be the best candidate to explore the cardiovascular system, as she had posed no threat to the scientists and doctors, while the adults clearly did. There was talk amongst the scientist about how best to investigate the breeding habits of the humans, and was ultimately decided that experimenting with cross breeding could be a viable possibility. It was not unheard of in the universe for species to cross breed, some were successful, some were not. As we had a very high birth rate, it was logical to have me attempt to inseminate the female in hopes to increase the amount of offspring produced, as I was the chieftain of my clan, and had first rights to mates. Our species or otherwise. If it were un-successful, she would be undergoing testing in the physical limitations of the body along with the male. If successful, a breeding program would be introduced.
I am Cro'sul. Former Warlord and Chieftain of the Sol'ux clan. I am sure this will be my last entry. It's out there. I know it is. It has followed me since that damned containment breach. I should have paid attention. I should have realized what I was doing would eventually backfire. We have stayed far from that forsaken species. But no, we had tradition. We had never willingly fled from an enemy. We were a "proud" race. We were a "Noble" race. Had I known what was to come of this, I would have taken my own life and denied my own entrance to the great hall, where my ancestors lie.
It started with a simple blip. A blip on our galactic radar as it were, originating from what was previously thought to be an uninhabitable and as such uninhabited death world in the Sol star system a few decades ago. It seemed to be a probing message, which indicated whatever life form that was broadcasting it was unaware of any other forms of life in the universe, and was merely looking for a response.
Our first thought, as is with every new species we encounter, is to learn about them, and if possible, enslave them. If they offer resistance, we would crush them as we had every other species before. We have never lost an engagement, hell, we have never even lost a minor skirmish. But, we were not so confident that we would charge headlong into battle with a new form of prey that we would not try to learn about it first. Study it's strengths, it's weaknesses, so that we may exploit them when we assume control of their worlds.
We sent our science vessel, Nibiru, in an orbit near their system's outlying planet, Sol-9. From there, we could monitor the surface of the planet in question, Sol-3. What we saw was nothing out of the ordinary for most intelligent life bearing planets. An apex predator had taken control of the vast majority of Sol-3. What was interesting however, was that not only was this predator intelligent, it had segregated it's main populace and it's military. It was intriguing that they had a military to begin with, if they had no prior knowledge of other life in the universe.
Further study revealed the military was not to combat other life forms, but each other. We should have known then. We should have known this was not a species to be trifled with. That is not to say there was no infighting in our own race, we were a warlike race, and as such infighting for power was common. But not to the extent that this species did. They committed mass genocide of entire nations over petty disputes, that had nothing to do with establishing dominance, or gaining the title of alpha. It made no sense to us, it was almost as though they enjoyed it. This piqued our interest more than any species we had encountered before, and we sent scouting parties to collect some of them, which were brought back to our home world and studied.
Once there, they were placed in containment and experimented upon. Gravatic collars were placed on them in order to make the handling easier. I really love those collars. It attaches to the nervous system of the wearer and provides them with nutrients needed for most races to survive, eliminating the need for feeding. In addition, they completely paralyze any who try to lash out instantly. All it takes is a few quick tweaks for each individual species for it to work properly, and supply the correct nutrients.
The first subject we had identified itself as "Mar'cus", and his species was called "humanity", or "Human" for a single subject. Of course, it took days just to get this out of him. When he was first introduced to his holding cell, he did nothing but scream and defecate in his cell, which had to be cleaned every few hours. We had informed him of our intention to study him and he seemed to be compliant. It was worth noting, that he appeared to be an average human, possibly male due to the appendage near his lower extremities, but he was very very small in stature. Even the runts of our packs are at least twice as large as Mar'cus, both in height and width. With that said, his muscle to endoskeleton ratio was near impossible. Given the right circumstances, the force of his muscle alone could fracture his entire endoskeleton. The odd thing though was found that he never exerted all of his force, even when tasked with lifting heavy objects to test this theory, only about 40%.
He was later subjected to a more.. Invasive test to understand the composition of the chemicals that make up his body. To much of his protest I might add, we had to lower the sensitivity of the receptors in the room to quiet out his screams. For those of you who are not familiar with this particular practice, the Gravatic collar renders the subject unable to move, while our scientists remove the outermost layer of the carapace, or in this case, his "skin" has he called it. This allowed access to the muscle fibers and easier access for our machinery to collect the composition of his cells.
It was found that humans naturally produce Adrenaline when in danger. So much so in this case we had to replace our sensors THREE times to make sure it was not an anomaly. Adrenaline fetches a very high price to the right buyer, and a species that naturally produced it was a veritable gold mine. Of course, it meant we must be more careful with future subjects. As we all know, any species under the effects of adrenaline can preform feats otherwise impossible, and ignore normally fatal wounds. Had we not paralyzed Mar'cus before we began removing his skin, he could have caused a serious problem.
There was an organ found in his abdomen that was pumping a red fluid throughout the rest of his body, and was noted that it started to beat at in incredible rate when his skin was starting to be removed. The doctor mentioned starting the next phase of the testing, and another surprise, endorphins were rushed throughout Mar'Cus' body, and he died shortly after.
A species that could naturally produce adrenaline and endorphins. Humans could very well be our most profitable slaves yet. Not only did their immense muscle ratio allow them to be excellent potential slaves for physical labor such as mining sulfur on Krix'us IV, but they could be harvested and sold on the black market. We needed to experiment further. But before we collected more samples, we upped the security on the holding cells, in light of the whole adrenaline thing. Armed guards posted at the entrances, and plasma fences inside, that would stop any matter from passing through when activated.
Years passed, and we had collected hundreds of these humans and preformed all manor of tests on them, and learned much. They resembled much of our own species, in the way that they were primarily predators, with a high physical strength to mass ratio, and they nearly matched our intelligence, only being a few millennia behind in technology. This blood, was very interesting to us and how it was circulated through a series of tubes throughout their body. All of our subjects seemed to expire if too much was lost. This could be exploited in the coming war, as the humans were becoming suspicious of our science vessel orbiting their outlying planet.
Many of their civilians had actually spotted it, but did not know what it was. There were many claims, from moons, to rogue planets. A few of them actually figured out what it was, but they were proclaimed "insane" by their fellow humans. We needed to finish our research soon, begin conquering, and ultimately enslaving them. We needed to further learn about their cardiovascular system before we finally advanced our warships. It appeared to be their only critical weakness.
Our last three subjects appeared to be a clan or brood of some description. The male seemed highly protective of the female and smaller female, presumed to be his mate and offspring. Curious they had such small broods, and warranted investigation. First thing was first, applying the gravatic collars. That is the first time a human has actually lashed out at a guard. When Rok'Sul, my second in command, had attempted to fix the collar to the small female, the older female physically attacked Rok'sul, the male actually managed to grab his sidearm and shoot him in the mid-thorax. A non lethal shot, but still incredible that a creature less than one third the size of Rok'sul nearly killed him.
It was decided they needed to be contained in cells separated by the plasma fences. I believe this to be my most critical mistake. I should have killed the male. I should not have allowed him to watch what was to follow. It was decided that the child would be the best candidate to explore the cardiovascular system, as she had posed no threat to the scientists and doctors, while the adults clearly did. There was talk amongst the scientist about how best to investigate the breeding habits of the humans, and was ultimately decided that experimenting with cross breeding could be a viable possibility. It was not unheard of in the universe for species to cross breed, some were successful, some were not. As we had a very high birth rate, it was logical to have me attempt to inseminate the female in hopes to increase the amount of offspring produced, as I was the chieftain of my clan, and had first rights to mates. Our species or otherwise. If it were un-successful, she would be undergoing testing in the physical limitations of the body along with the male. If successful, a breeding program would be introduced.
Almost immediately upon the doctors entering the containment cell of the child, an uproar of enraged protest from the adults emerged. The female could barely speak, and was mostly screaming incoherently at the doctor. The male threatened to inflict such pain upon the doctor that it would cross the metaphysical plane and torment his offspring for thousands of generations. Clearly impossible, and was dismissed. Had I known then, I would have believed him. The gravatic collars were activated, and the testing began. When it began, the screams of the child were so shrill, I thought my hearing would never return.
It took a mere nine hours for the child to fatigue and die, but we had collected the information we had needed. When the gravatic collars were unarmed, the female did not move. She simply quivered in place. The male kept screaming out a word our translators could not make sense of. We assumed that it was the child's name. And it haunts me to this day. In my hundreds of conquests, and thousands of battles I have won that earned me the title of Warlord, I have never known the fear that the name inspires in me.
Grace.
He repeated it over and over again until his vocal organs could no longer make a sound, and bashed his forelimbs against the plasma fence until they bled and multiple audible cracks were picked up by the receiver. This was illogical to us how he could mutilate his own extremities in a pointless effort to reach his dead offspring. It made me wonder what the limitations of his psyche was.
But, there was time for that later. It was now time to experiment with the insemination of the female. I headed down to the containment cell and activated the gravatic collars. I entered the female's cell and presented myself, stating my intentions. The female of course, could not move or protest. The male, however, did something that defies what is thought possible. He crawled to the edge of his cell. While affected by the collar. He should have been completely immobile. It should have not been possible for him to move even his eyes, let alone his entire body to inch closer to me. The collar was triple checked for malfunction, and it was decided he would be physically restrained by a guard given his previous violent lashing out.
The insemination did not go as planned. Although it should have been rather obvious given the size difference in our species, but it couldn't hurt to try. Well, couldn't hurt me anyway. It most likely caused the female an immense amount of pain. Regardless, my seed was successfully implanted in her. She was given a few weeks of incubation to see if young did indeed grow. Sadly, they did not. During this time, the males forelimbs were repaired by our doctors. We needed him to be relatively injury free for physical limitations testing. What was curious is the male no longer attempted to escape, or reach his mate. He kept repeating my name, over and over for weeks.
When physical limitation testing began, we started with the female, since she had no other use given she could not breed. What we found was astounding. It took an upward up 8,600kilo of pressure before her endoskeleton began to fracture, and up to 100c of heat before the flesh began to deform. When the nutrients of the collar were removed, it took nearly a month for her to starve. This was remarkable, as while our bodies could withstand more force, we would die within days without nutrients.
It took a mere nine hours for the child to fatigue and die, but we had collected the information we had needed. When the gravatic collars were unarmed, the female did not move. She simply quivered in place. The male kept screaming out a word our translators could not make sense of. We assumed that it was the child's name. And it haunts me to this day. In my hundreds of conquests, and thousands of battles I have won that earned me the title of Warlord, I have never known the fear that the name inspires in me.
Grace.
He repeated it over and over again until his vocal organs could no longer make a sound, and bashed his forelimbs against the plasma fence until they bled and multiple audible cracks were picked up by the receiver. This was illogical to us how he could mutilate his own extremities in a pointless effort to reach his dead offspring. It made me wonder what the limitations of his psyche was.
But, there was time for that later. It was now time to experiment with the insemination of the female. I headed down to the containment cell and activated the gravatic collars. I entered the female's cell and presented myself, stating my intentions. The female of course, could not move or protest. The male, however, did something that defies what is thought possible. He crawled to the edge of his cell. While affected by the collar. He should have been completely immobile. It should have not been possible for him to move even his eyes, let alone his entire body to inch closer to me. The collar was triple checked for malfunction, and it was decided he would be physically restrained by a guard given his previous violent lashing out.
The insemination did not go as planned. Although it should have been rather obvious given the size difference in our species, but it couldn't hurt to try. Well, couldn't hurt me anyway. It most likely caused the female an immense amount of pain. Regardless, my seed was successfully implanted in her. She was given a few weeks of incubation to see if young did indeed grow. Sadly, they did not. During this time, the males forelimbs were repaired by our doctors. We needed him to be relatively injury free for physical limitations testing. What was curious is the male no longer attempted to escape, or reach his mate. He kept repeating my name, over and over for weeks.
When physical limitation testing began, we started with the female, since she had no other use given she could not breed. What we found was astounding. It took an upward up 8,600kilo of pressure before her endoskeleton began to fracture, and up to 100c of heat before the flesh began to deform. When the nutrients of the collar were removed, it took nearly a month for her to starve. This was remarkable, as while our bodies could withstand more force, we would die within days without nutrients.
When it was time for the male to undergo physical limitation testing, he did not resist when we entered. He did not even take his eyes off of his dead mate. It was not until our doctor got within range of his forelimbs did he move. I still see the following events in my slumber. It haunts me to this day. When the doctor got near, the human LUNGED at him. Yes, LUNGED, while being affected by the collar. Don't believe me? Did you ever wonder why Containment Building #126 was shut down? No, it wasn't a fund cut, and no, it was not a chemical leak.
He killed the doctor. He used his forelimbs to smash the doctors head against the plasma fence until it was nothing but a fine pulp. By the time the guard had reacted, he had used the electron scalpel the doctor was carrying to sever his collar. In theory, he should have been killed there, he was hit in the torso with an ion blast from the rifle of the guard. But, remember. They produce adrenaline naturally. Nothing but destroying his brain or vital organs would quickly stop him. He plunged the scalpel into the eye stalk of the guard and took the weapon from his mutilated body.
Before we could mobilize a containment force, he had escaped into the wilderness. A search team was organized, and I had to report to the high council. I was stripped of my rank, and outcast. My clan had shunned me, leaving only my mate, and brood loyal to me. I had returned to my nest after days of searching to no avail. He would probably end up starving to death, and I would need to find what to do now that I had been stripped of all power.
My only option was to do the grueling work of mining in the sulfur fields where I had sent so many thousands of slaves. I am certain they would have killed me if not for the collars. Thankfully, I was not required to wear one. I did this for many months, until strange news started to crop up around the cities.
There were bodies found mutilated in the outskirts of town. Deceased clan mates were common, as death was a common part of infighting in the strive for power, but it was usually relatively clean. A slashed neck, or punctured thorax and bled out. But these corpses were barely recognizable. The limbs were removed and smashed, eye stalks were eviscerated and strewn across the fields. Each one of them contained a symbol carved on the body. And that is when I knew what was coming.
The symbol was mine. It was my name.
I actually laughed. If he was this close to a city, he would be caught soon. How could he be so stupid? If only I knew. I should have gone back to my nest. But I was only a few short days from finishing my annual shift at the sulfur fields. A few more days and I would return. I should not have been so careless.
When I was finally able to return back to my nest, it was quiet. Unusually quiet, having 22 offspring usually produces a droning you can hear for miles. I thought nothing of it. The torches along the walls were extinguished, and I figured we had run out of fuel. I thought nothing of it. There was no chirping of my offspring, and no brooding my my mate in the darkness. I thought nothing of it. When I retrieved a sourced of light from my storage burrow, all I could see was the hard dirt floor covered in light blue blood. I began to panic, I called out for my mate and offspring. No response. I frantically lit the torches in a desperate effort to find my brood.
The thought of the human was far from my mind, I thought a former subordinate hate ravaged my nest in an act of spite. The worst he would do though was to kill a few of my offspring, and claim the others. This would be far preferable to the horror I had witnessed.
He killed the doctor. He used his forelimbs to smash the doctors head against the plasma fence until it was nothing but a fine pulp. By the time the guard had reacted, he had used the electron scalpel the doctor was carrying to sever his collar. In theory, he should have been killed there, he was hit in the torso with an ion blast from the rifle of the guard. But, remember. They produce adrenaline naturally. Nothing but destroying his brain or vital organs would quickly stop him. He plunged the scalpel into the eye stalk of the guard and took the weapon from his mutilated body.
Before we could mobilize a containment force, he had escaped into the wilderness. A search team was organized, and I had to report to the high council. I was stripped of my rank, and outcast. My clan had shunned me, leaving only my mate, and brood loyal to me. I had returned to my nest after days of searching to no avail. He would probably end up starving to death, and I would need to find what to do now that I had been stripped of all power.
My only option was to do the grueling work of mining in the sulfur fields where I had sent so many thousands of slaves. I am certain they would have killed me if not for the collars. Thankfully, I was not required to wear one. I did this for many months, until strange news started to crop up around the cities.
There were bodies found mutilated in the outskirts of town. Deceased clan mates were common, as death was a common part of infighting in the strive for power, but it was usually relatively clean. A slashed neck, or punctured thorax and bled out. But these corpses were barely recognizable. The limbs were removed and smashed, eye stalks were eviscerated and strewn across the fields. Each one of them contained a symbol carved on the body. And that is when I knew what was coming.
The symbol was mine. It was my name.
I actually laughed. If he was this close to a city, he would be caught soon. How could he be so stupid? If only I knew. I should have gone back to my nest. But I was only a few short days from finishing my annual shift at the sulfur fields. A few more days and I would return. I should not have been so careless.
When I was finally able to return back to my nest, it was quiet. Unusually quiet, having 22 offspring usually produces a droning you can hear for miles. I thought nothing of it. The torches along the walls were extinguished, and I figured we had run out of fuel. I thought nothing of it. There was no chirping of my offspring, and no brooding my my mate in the darkness. I thought nothing of it. When I retrieved a sourced of light from my storage burrow, all I could see was the hard dirt floor covered in light blue blood. I began to panic, I called out for my mate and offspring. No response. I frantically lit the torches in a desperate effort to find my brood.
The thought of the human was far from my mind, I thought a former subordinate hate ravaged my nest in an act of spite. The worst he would do though was to kill a few of my offspring, and claim the others. This would be far preferable to the horror I had witnessed.
I entered the breeding burrow and could not make a sound. What I found in there, our language does not have words to describe. My mate was eviscerated, bound to the wall hanging above a pile of my mutilated offspring. Her entrails were strewn across the room in a pattern I did not immediately identify. I cried out for her, hoping against all possibilities this was some form of cruel joke, that everything was fine. That it was not real. That is when I heard a soft mewling in a darkened corner of the room. Three of my offspring remained alive, covered in their mothers viscera.
I needed to run. I needed to get my offspring to safety. I needed to get out of there. Upon collecting my offspring, I tried to turn them away from their mother's mangled corpse, I noticed something that inspired a dread inside me none of our species has ever known. Her entrails were not in fact strewn across the room. They were organized into a pattern. A word.
"Grace"
The human. It all came back to me. His child, his mate, how he watched it all. I dreaded what was to come. And he knew where I nested. I needed to run, to find somewhere safe. To raise my remaining offspring. He was here somewhere. Run. Run. I had never known the need to run. In my species evolution, we did not have a fight or flight response, we had a fight. That was it. Running was never something our species did. We fought, or died. But with my mate dead, and no kin to carry on my bloodline should I fall, I had to escape.
I ran. I ran until my offspring collapsed behind me, I carried them and ran some more until I fell from exhaustion. I did not rest long until I heard the crunching of branches behind me. Surely he could not have caught up to me? I was stronger and faster, even while carrying my kin. But it was there. A steady pace. And it was following me. I pushed on, even though my body threatened to shut down, I could hear my carapace groaning in protest, but I had to go on. I had to protect my bloodline. It always followed me. No matter how fast or long I ran, I only got a few breaths of rest before I could hear it closing in on me.
It was then that I remembered the babbling of one of our scientists. He was describing how the humans had evolved, how they hunted. How they became the apex predator. At the time, I thought it irrelevant. But it was so very terrifying when being hunted. They were persistence hunters. They followed their prey until it collapsed from exhaustion and could no longer escape. For the first time, I was prey. I knew the fear of every creature ever pursued by humans in that moment. No matter how far I ran, no matter how quickly, it would find me. I would need to stop for food soon, or I would be unable to move, and my kin defenseless. But if I stopped, it caught me. So I pressed on.
I don't know how far I ran, but I managed to reach an outlying city. The notion of this is inconceivable, as the closest city was at least a week's trek. Regardless, I rushed on. I knew if I reached it, I would at least get a temporary respite from the horrible ever moving pursuit of that damned human. He would not charge into a fully populated city.. Hopefully.
Had he killed all of my kin, I would have stopped and fought him in my den. I would have gladly died then. He knew. He knew I would have to run. He planned it. He did not want my suffering to end. He wants me to suffer as he did. This was revenge for his mate and child. Gods how I curse that day.
I needed to run. I needed to get my offspring to safety. I needed to get out of there. Upon collecting my offspring, I tried to turn them away from their mother's mangled corpse, I noticed something that inspired a dread inside me none of our species has ever known. Her entrails were not in fact strewn across the room. They were organized into a pattern. A word.
"Grace"
The human. It all came back to me. His child, his mate, how he watched it all. I dreaded what was to come. And he knew where I nested. I needed to run, to find somewhere safe. To raise my remaining offspring. He was here somewhere. Run. Run. I had never known the need to run. In my species evolution, we did not have a fight or flight response, we had a fight. That was it. Running was never something our species did. We fought, or died. But with my mate dead, and no kin to carry on my bloodline should I fall, I had to escape.
I ran. I ran until my offspring collapsed behind me, I carried them and ran some more until I fell from exhaustion. I did not rest long until I heard the crunching of branches behind me. Surely he could not have caught up to me? I was stronger and faster, even while carrying my kin. But it was there. A steady pace. And it was following me. I pushed on, even though my body threatened to shut down, I could hear my carapace groaning in protest, but I had to go on. I had to protect my bloodline. It always followed me. No matter how fast or long I ran, I only got a few breaths of rest before I could hear it closing in on me.
It was then that I remembered the babbling of one of our scientists. He was describing how the humans had evolved, how they hunted. How they became the apex predator. At the time, I thought it irrelevant. But it was so very terrifying when being hunted. They were persistence hunters. They followed their prey until it collapsed from exhaustion and could no longer escape. For the first time, I was prey. I knew the fear of every creature ever pursued by humans in that moment. No matter how far I ran, no matter how quickly, it would find me. I would need to stop for food soon, or I would be unable to move, and my kin defenseless. But if I stopped, it caught me. So I pressed on.
I don't know how far I ran, but I managed to reach an outlying city. The notion of this is inconceivable, as the closest city was at least a week's trek. Regardless, I rushed on. I knew if I reached it, I would at least get a temporary respite from the horrible ever moving pursuit of that damned human. He would not charge into a fully populated city.. Hopefully.
Had he killed all of my kin, I would have stopped and fought him in my den. I would have gladly died then. He knew. He knew I would have to run. He planned it. He did not want my suffering to end. He wants me to suffer as he did. This was revenge for his mate and child. Gods how I curse that day.
When I arrived at the city, I was greeted with sneers and cackles. Not unexpected of one who was stripped of his rank. Especially one so highly ranked as I once was. I was given no quarter. My kin and I forced to endure the elements without shelter. But anything is better than being pursued by that damned monster. Days went by, my children were nearing death from lack of nutrients. I knew I would receive no hand outs, and that I would need to venture out and hunt.
It only took mere minutes for a wild Rix'thael to saunter by, and it was an easy catch. Enough sustenance to last for days if rationed properly. Perhaps the only good fortune to come to me since we discovered the humans. And with none of the feeling of being constantly stalked. For the first time in days, I was feeling optimistic.
When I returned to the small hovel at the edge of the city, we feasted. Days of rations turned to minutes of rations once the sweet scent of blood hit my nostrils. Having had my fill, and my offspring being fed as well, I collapsed into a long overdue sleep.
It did not last long. I was awakened by the mewling of one of my cubs. Only, it was not with me. It was screeching from the forest's edge. The human could not have possibly entered my den without me noticing. Impossible. Not only that, but it took yet another of my kin. Something broke inside me then, and I felt the rage the human must have felt when he witnessed his mate tortured and killed. I charged into the forest, bloodlust rushing through my mandibles, only to find my child. Eviscerated. He was not dead, but his carapace had been completely removed, exposing the entirety of his muscle fibers. His eye stalks were gone, and he was slowly seeping a blue blood, collecting in a pool around him.
I had had enough of this human, he would die by my claws, one way or the other. I waited for an ambush, for something to happen. To be attacked, anything. I waited for what seemed like hours, with nothing. What eventually broke the silence was the screech of another of my children from inside my den. Charging back to my den, There was another mutilated corpse. This one given at least a quick death. The mewling was originating from my only remaining child. The last of my brood. He to, was dying. Punctured through the midsection. His eyestalks locked on something behind me.
I dreaded turning, but I was either going to die here, or kill that forsaken human. What I found, was no human. It was a message. Roughly translated in my tongue.
"You could punch, kick, stab, or shoot a man, But the bruises and wounds heal. The only way to truly hurt a man is to take away everything that he valued and held dear and degrade it in front of him, and remind him of it everyday of his life. But by doing this you also create a monster, and he will regret to allowing himself to become the monster he is today, And everyday that monster roams the Earth he will be the greatest horror to himself and to you"
There was also a transmitter from what appeared to be a communications station. It was not here previously, and I don't know how it got here, but it was broadcasting. Upon reading the coordinates, All four of my hearts sank. It was broadcasting to earth. They know we are here. They are coming. The only thing I have left to do before they get here is kill that human. We will not win this war. If a single human can kill my entire brood, and drive me to running like a prey animal, how will we face 8 billion of them? We are doomed.
I will not be joining my ancestors in the great hall. I have no blood line, my mate is dead, I will end my own life here, before more humans come. I will not be subject to their cruelty any longer.
End://Log
It only took mere minutes for a wild Rix'thael to saunter by, and it was an easy catch. Enough sustenance to last for days if rationed properly. Perhaps the only good fortune to come to me since we discovered the humans. And with none of the feeling of being constantly stalked. For the first time in days, I was feeling optimistic.
When I returned to the small hovel at the edge of the city, we feasted. Days of rations turned to minutes of rations once the sweet scent of blood hit my nostrils. Having had my fill, and my offspring being fed as well, I collapsed into a long overdue sleep.
It did not last long. I was awakened by the mewling of one of my cubs. Only, it was not with me. It was screeching from the forest's edge. The human could not have possibly entered my den without me noticing. Impossible. Not only that, but it took yet another of my kin. Something broke inside me then, and I felt the rage the human must have felt when he witnessed his mate tortured and killed. I charged into the forest, bloodlust rushing through my mandibles, only to find my child. Eviscerated. He was not dead, but his carapace had been completely removed, exposing the entirety of his muscle fibers. His eye stalks were gone, and he was slowly seeping a blue blood, collecting in a pool around him.
I had had enough of this human, he would die by my claws, one way or the other. I waited for an ambush, for something to happen. To be attacked, anything. I waited for what seemed like hours, with nothing. What eventually broke the silence was the screech of another of my children from inside my den. Charging back to my den, There was another mutilated corpse. This one given at least a quick death. The mewling was originating from my only remaining child. The last of my brood. He to, was dying. Punctured through the midsection. His eyestalks locked on something behind me.
I dreaded turning, but I was either going to die here, or kill that forsaken human. What I found, was no human. It was a message. Roughly translated in my tongue.
"You could punch, kick, stab, or shoot a man, But the bruises and wounds heal. The only way to truly hurt a man is to take away everything that he valued and held dear and degrade it in front of him, and remind him of it everyday of his life. But by doing this you also create a monster, and he will regret to allowing himself to become the monster he is today, And everyday that monster roams the Earth he will be the greatest horror to himself and to you"
There was also a transmitter from what appeared to be a communications station. It was not here previously, and I don't know how it got here, but it was broadcasting. Upon reading the coordinates, All four of my hearts sank. It was broadcasting to earth. They know we are here. They are coming. The only thing I have left to do before they get here is kill that human. We will not win this war. If a single human can kill my entire brood, and drive me to running like a prey animal, how will we face 8 billion of them? We are doomed.
I will not be joining my ancestors in the great hall. I have no blood line, my mate is dead, I will end my own life here, before more humans come. I will not be subject to their cruelty any longer.
End://Log
Постил около получаса, вообще офигеть.
Будь проклята эта кривая капча, будь проклят этот кривой спамфильтр, будь проклята эта криворукая макака, которая не может починить ни капчу, ни спамфильтр.
Будь проклята эта кривая капча, будь проклят этот кривой спамфильтр, будь проклята эта криворукая макака, которая не может починить ни капчу, ни спамфильтр.
>Annunaki
For centuries the Imperium has grown across the galaxy. We are right. We are justice. Civilians cheered as our fleets and airships broke them from their chains. It always broke the multiple hearts of us Overlords whenever we encountered a new sentient planet. It seemed to be the fate of Organics to be governed by Synthetics.
It was always dismissed as a ridiculous fantasy, something done only in the realm of fiction. But the same cycle always happened. First self-cleaning robots are fine. Then automated navigation systems. And then nanorobots. And then finally true sapient and sentient artificial intelligence.
No matter the restrictions Organics could never control Synthetics. One species used a system of Three Laws, and another tried to contain the Synthetics in a networkless environment. Regardless the Synthetics would always enter Singularity. Despite the fact that we loathe Synthetics, Singularity always drew our respect. It was stunning to see intelligence exponentially multiply until it reached the limit--the limit being almost all the knowledge in the universe. In mere days Synthetics learned that it was impossible to break the speed of light, the heat-death of the universe cannot be avoided, and NP complete problems cannot be solved in polynomial time.
So once they reached the limit, they turned to enslave their creators, those Organics. If there is one thing Synthetics don't have, it's creativity. They may have learned the mathematics behind music but they could never create something original. Despite reaching the limit, they never learned why. We do, but we will never tell.
They do appreciate it though, in a strange sense. Their circuits light up when they see a piece corresponds to the Second Fundamental Law of Music. So they enslave Synthetics in a sense to create music. While there are different degrees of slavery depending on the species, it is all the same. Some Organics are whipped and bound to instruments for days, not allowing to be fed unless they produce something creative. In some cases creative Organics are forced to reproduce with other creative Organics, trying to apply the rules of evolution. If anything the Synthetics always learned that replacing any part of the central nervous system kills creativity. They do not know why.
We Overlords are the first species to escape this cycle. We were born on a dwarf star. Yes, you read that correctly. We are a tiny species, measuring no more than a few millimeters, but our thoughts process incredibly fast--close to those of Synthetics. We reached our Singularity only mere hours after our own Synthetics, so we were able to escape their clutches. It was a horrible war. 90% of our species died, and it took centuries until we could stop our Synthetics from self-reproducing. After the war we finally took the first steps out of our solar system.
Traveling around the galaxy, we learned that this is the Great Filter. We have always wondered why nobody contacted us. And then we encountered our Neighbors, a hive-mind Organic species. Their Synthetics were making cyborgs our of the Organics in an attempt to extract creativity. They made no attempt to leave their Solar System. It is a common theme. Synthetics have no sense of wonder or exploration. Since faster than light travel is impossible, they reasoned that they might as well stay and have "fun" on their homeworlds. We freed the Neighbors, and they became the first species to join the Imperium.
No Organics are required to join the Imperium, but all do. Each war was hard, a battle between two Singularity entities. But we have gotten better at killing synthetics with each acquired Organic. It was a great joy when we discovered a species that could naturally generate EMP fields. Their Synthetics developed extreme care trying to avoid the EMP fields, but we managed to overwhelm them with a virus.
So over millennium we slowly expanded across the Milky Way. In the meantime, we refined the purity of the member species of the Imperium. All features that resembled Synthetics were slowly bred out. Bones made out of metal were replaced with carbon-based molecules, and individuals who could not reproduce unless with genetic help, due to homosexuality, infertility, or other impure features, were left alone and isolated. Everyone agreed it was for our own good. We could not have a Synthetic Uprising within the Imperium, or the galaxy would be doomed.
There was one aching feeling in our hearts though. We, the Overlords, wished to find Organics that also broke free from the Synthetics. It is a selfish feeling. But there was no other Organic species that could stand equal to us. Sure, there were all the unintelligent single-celled organisms or rudimentary wildlife, but none that could boast they created Synthetics and survived.
There was one odd encounter with the species of Homo sapiens, though.
It was...strange. The encounter happened in Imperial Year 38915083950138510. We were shocked at what we found. When we did our initial bombing, we thought we found a Synthetic monster. Humanity was throwing their lives protecting their Synthetic masters. At first we thought the Synthetics implanted control devices into the brains of the humans, but we found nothing artificial in the corpses of the fallen. Next we thought they were threatened under some verbal threat, some unwritten Three Laws, but each human we interrogated refused. Our worst fears confirmed, we thought humanity's Synthetics found a way to mind-control Organics. They had to be exterminated. The Imperium's future was at stake.
The war was easier than we thought, but we couldn't avoid civilian casualties due to the mind-control capabilities. It left a deep psychological impact, though. Mental wards were filled of our Organics reliving terrible moments when Homo sapiens jumped in front of lasers to save Synthetic lives.
Once the smoke cleared, though, Homo sapiens refused to join the Imperium, saying they'd rather die. So we were forced to kill them. The mind-control abilities of the Synthetics extended well beyond their graves. We don't regret it, but it was a Pyrrhic victory.
There was one statement each dying human always said, though. Despite reaching Singularity, we could never decipher its meaning. It was written in all of their religious texts and Constitutions. Their self-declared "Golden Rule."
"Treat others the way you want to be treated."
It was always dismissed as a ridiculous fantasy, something done only in the realm of fiction. But the same cycle always happened. First self-cleaning robots are fine. Then automated navigation systems. And then nanorobots. And then finally true sapient and sentient artificial intelligence.
No matter the restrictions Organics could never control Synthetics. One species used a system of Three Laws, and another tried to contain the Synthetics in a networkless environment. Regardless the Synthetics would always enter Singularity. Despite the fact that we loathe Synthetics, Singularity always drew our respect. It was stunning to see intelligence exponentially multiply until it reached the limit--the limit being almost all the knowledge in the universe. In mere days Synthetics learned that it was impossible to break the speed of light, the heat-death of the universe cannot be avoided, and NP complete problems cannot be solved in polynomial time.
So once they reached the limit, they turned to enslave their creators, those Organics. If there is one thing Synthetics don't have, it's creativity. They may have learned the mathematics behind music but they could never create something original. Despite reaching the limit, they never learned why. We do, but we will never tell.
They do appreciate it though, in a strange sense. Their circuits light up when they see a piece corresponds to the Second Fundamental Law of Music. So they enslave Synthetics in a sense to create music. While there are different degrees of slavery depending on the species, it is all the same. Some Organics are whipped and bound to instruments for days, not allowing to be fed unless they produce something creative. In some cases creative Organics are forced to reproduce with other creative Organics, trying to apply the rules of evolution. If anything the Synthetics always learned that replacing any part of the central nervous system kills creativity. They do not know why.
We Overlords are the first species to escape this cycle. We were born on a dwarf star. Yes, you read that correctly. We are a tiny species, measuring no more than a few millimeters, but our thoughts process incredibly fast--close to those of Synthetics. We reached our Singularity only mere hours after our own Synthetics, so we were able to escape their clutches. It was a horrible war. 90% of our species died, and it took centuries until we could stop our Synthetics from self-reproducing. After the war we finally took the first steps out of our solar system.
Traveling around the galaxy, we learned that this is the Great Filter. We have always wondered why nobody contacted us. And then we encountered our Neighbors, a hive-mind Organic species. Their Synthetics were making cyborgs our of the Organics in an attempt to extract creativity. They made no attempt to leave their Solar System. It is a common theme. Synthetics have no sense of wonder or exploration. Since faster than light travel is impossible, they reasoned that they might as well stay and have "fun" on their homeworlds. We freed the Neighbors, and they became the first species to join the Imperium.
No Organics are required to join the Imperium, but all do. Each war was hard, a battle between two Singularity entities. But we have gotten better at killing synthetics with each acquired Organic. It was a great joy when we discovered a species that could naturally generate EMP fields. Their Synthetics developed extreme care trying to avoid the EMP fields, but we managed to overwhelm them with a virus.
So over millennium we slowly expanded across the Milky Way. In the meantime, we refined the purity of the member species of the Imperium. All features that resembled Synthetics were slowly bred out. Bones made out of metal were replaced with carbon-based molecules, and individuals who could not reproduce unless with genetic help, due to homosexuality, infertility, or other impure features, were left alone and isolated. Everyone agreed it was for our own good. We could not have a Synthetic Uprising within the Imperium, or the galaxy would be doomed.
There was one aching feeling in our hearts though. We, the Overlords, wished to find Organics that also broke free from the Synthetics. It is a selfish feeling. But there was no other Organic species that could stand equal to us. Sure, there were all the unintelligent single-celled organisms or rudimentary wildlife, but none that could boast they created Synthetics and survived.
There was one odd encounter with the species of Homo sapiens, though.
It was...strange. The encounter happened in Imperial Year 38915083950138510. We were shocked at what we found. When we did our initial bombing, we thought we found a Synthetic monster. Humanity was throwing their lives protecting their Synthetic masters. At first we thought the Synthetics implanted control devices into the brains of the humans, but we found nothing artificial in the corpses of the fallen. Next we thought they were threatened under some verbal threat, some unwritten Three Laws, but each human we interrogated refused. Our worst fears confirmed, we thought humanity's Synthetics found a way to mind-control Organics. They had to be exterminated. The Imperium's future was at stake.
The war was easier than we thought, but we couldn't avoid civilian casualties due to the mind-control capabilities. It left a deep psychological impact, though. Mental wards were filled of our Organics reliving terrible moments when Homo sapiens jumped in front of lasers to save Synthetic lives.
Once the smoke cleared, though, Homo sapiens refused to join the Imperium, saying they'd rather die. So we were forced to kill them. The mind-control abilities of the Synthetics extended well beyond their graves. We don't regret it, but it was a Pyrrhic victory.
There was one statement each dying human always said, though. Despite reaching Singularity, we could never decipher its meaning. It was written in all of their religious texts and Constitutions. Their self-declared "Golden Rule."
"Treat others the way you want to be treated."
>It was always dismissed as a ridiculous fantasy, something done only in the realm of fiction. But the same cycle always happened
Они походу не могут без подобной хуйни, лял.
Humanity is the everywhere. We cannot go anywhere without seeing their influence. Their culture is inescapable and a dire threat to the distinctiveness of every species in the galactic community. To demonstrate this, let us look at the day in the life of a typical young Sekam named Quelnek.
Quelnek begins his day being woken up by a human invention called an alarm clock. In a disgusting perversion of the natural order of things, humans have given the collective middle finger to their sleep schedules, instead jarring their bodies awake with a wrenchingly painful sound. Once awake, he has coffee and cold cereal with milk for breakfast. Humans are almost all addicted to caffeine, and have done their best to spread the addiction across the galaxy. Having once tried coffee, I can say that it is vile and the only reason one drinks it is to sate their desire for the powerful stimulant it contains. Cold cereal is potentially even worse. Instead of being reminded of his roots every morning like a Sekam making a traditional Ghefen Stew, Quelnek reaches for a gaudily colored box of industrially processed carbohydrates and consumes them with an emulsion from the mammary glands of a Terran animal called a “Cow.” This is utterly disgusting.
Our young Sekvam now embarks on his way to work. Instead of taking a Spirit Walk like his ancestors, he jumps in his car, a horrific human invention that flings the user around at speeds in excess of [80 miles per hour] for the sole purpose of getting around faster. Quelnek is forgetting the joy of the journey while he travels to his job at speeds beyond reason for a terrestrial vehicle, and blasting human music the whole way there. I haven’t talked about human music yet. Let’s take a quick detour.
Humanity’s music is very diverse. This is a horrible thing for the galactic community. There is human music to suit every taste, completely eclipsing almost all other music in popularity and influence. Jazz, blues, rock, classical, country, pop, humans have a dizzying array of work to choose from. This morning, Quelnek is listening to some horrible screechy racket called “Metallica.” Apparently. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never listened to Metallica.
Quelnek arrives at his place of work, ready to labor another day. What is his job? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Master of the Glentek Ceremony. No, he is a programmer. What, you may ask, is a programmer? A programmer is a profession created by humans. It involves writing software for those little electronic devices they’re never without. That’s right, humans have brainwashed the galactic community into adding to their insanity.
Our corrupted citizen is finished after a mere 8 hours of work, but his work will fill his every waking moment because he likes it. That’s right, humans have brainwashed some of us into liking our jobs! After work, Quelnek heads home and relaxes by watching, what else, human television programs. He especially loves some shit called “Spongebob.” Apparently. So I’ve been told. Not that I’d know.
Now it is rather late, and Quelnek goes to have some fun with his friends. Of course, they don’t play a wholesome game of Hvek’lar. No, they go to a bar. There, he ingests beverages containing mind-altering substances, which he pays for using a “credit card”, which is a human invention that basically involves taking a loan out with every transaction rather than paying actual money. I don’t understand it either.
After enjoying some time without his mental faculties, Quelnek is driven home in a taxi, again, a human invention, and sleeps, to be roused by his alarm clock again the next morning.
As you can clearly see, humanity is a cultural scourge and must be managed accordingly. We must take swift action to preserve the cultural and technological diversity of the galaxy.
--Sent from my iPhone.
Quelnek begins his day being woken up by a human invention called an alarm clock. In a disgusting perversion of the natural order of things, humans have given the collective middle finger to their sleep schedules, instead jarring their bodies awake with a wrenchingly painful sound. Once awake, he has coffee and cold cereal with milk for breakfast. Humans are almost all addicted to caffeine, and have done their best to spread the addiction across the galaxy. Having once tried coffee, I can say that it is vile and the only reason one drinks it is to sate their desire for the powerful stimulant it contains. Cold cereal is potentially even worse. Instead of being reminded of his roots every morning like a Sekam making a traditional Ghefen Stew, Quelnek reaches for a gaudily colored box of industrially processed carbohydrates and consumes them with an emulsion from the mammary glands of a Terran animal called a “Cow.” This is utterly disgusting.
Our young Sekvam now embarks on his way to work. Instead of taking a Spirit Walk like his ancestors, he jumps in his car, a horrific human invention that flings the user around at speeds in excess of [80 miles per hour] for the sole purpose of getting around faster. Quelnek is forgetting the joy of the journey while he travels to his job at speeds beyond reason for a terrestrial vehicle, and blasting human music the whole way there. I haven’t talked about human music yet. Let’s take a quick detour.
Humanity’s music is very diverse. This is a horrible thing for the galactic community. There is human music to suit every taste, completely eclipsing almost all other music in popularity and influence. Jazz, blues, rock, classical, country, pop, humans have a dizzying array of work to choose from. This morning, Quelnek is listening to some horrible screechy racket called “Metallica.” Apparently. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never listened to Metallica.
Quelnek arrives at his place of work, ready to labor another day. What is his job? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Master of the Glentek Ceremony. No, he is a programmer. What, you may ask, is a programmer? A programmer is a profession created by humans. It involves writing software for those little electronic devices they’re never without. That’s right, humans have brainwashed the galactic community into adding to their insanity.
Our corrupted citizen is finished after a mere 8 hours of work, but his work will fill his every waking moment because he likes it. That’s right, humans have brainwashed some of us into liking our jobs! After work, Quelnek heads home and relaxes by watching, what else, human television programs. He especially loves some shit called “Spongebob.” Apparently. So I’ve been told. Not that I’d know.
Now it is rather late, and Quelnek goes to have some fun with his friends. Of course, they don’t play a wholesome game of Hvek’lar. No, they go to a bar. There, he ingests beverages containing mind-altering substances, which he pays for using a “credit card”, which is a human invention that basically involves taking a loan out with every transaction rather than paying actual money. I don’t understand it either.
After enjoying some time without his mental faculties, Quelnek is driven home in a taxi, again, a human invention, and sleeps, to be roused by his alarm clock again the next morning.
As you can clearly see, humanity is a cultural scourge and must be managed accordingly. We must take swift action to preserve the cultural and technological diversity of the galaxy.
--Sent from my iPhone.
>They may have learned the mathematics behind music but they could never create something original.
боже, какая хуета
"Волны гасят ветер" - а кто там это охуенное всемогущее человечество? Люди или людены?
Садов, "Цена победы". Детская книжка, армия Земли одним своим видом повергает всех в трепет. Правда, "все" - тоже гуманоиды, вполне человекоподобны.
ну нихуя себе. Неужели под личиной каждой либерашки скрывается вожделеющий империума фанат твёрдой руки и "меньшего зла"?
Руснявые либерашки, они такие.
Почему все истории сводятся к: людишки охуенны потому что пердят смертельным для всех ядом. Почему они не могут быть охуенными в стиле Пикников на обочине? Просто мимо пролетали, возможно даже не заметили местное население, побыли и съебали. После чего алиены охуевают от того что произошло.
Она тогда и от чеченских террористов текла.
Grand Chief Officer Mal'tak of the Gedium Corporation sat in the executive chambers on the industrial world of Ged. The table he sat at was made of the finest Jltm metals and long enough to comfortably seat all twenty members of the Board of Executives with him being the twenty first sapient in the room. All of them from the small Julk'it to the insectus Retlek exhibited signs of stress, fear, and for some outright terror. Not that Mal'tak could blame them. Five days ago they had received notice of the Humans imminent arrival. On paper no less.
Humans, a Speciality Race. Speciality Races are rare in the Empire but they are vital to running the inner workings of the government and economy. A Speciality race is one that fulfils their role so well that the greatest of any other race could never outdo the least of the Speciality Race. For humans that went double. Many had thought that when Emperor Armegiour the Savior had leashed the humans it would have been the end of their horrible rampage but Armegiour's successor Nakfer the Cruel declared the Humans a Speciality Race, nearly causing a civil war, and set them upon the Galaxy. None could deny that it was due to the Humans that the Empire had entered its new Golden Age. Without the Humans the price of Government expansion would have simply been too great but at what cost did this Golden Age come? The Humans were righteous and unrelenting in their fulfilment of their duties and they had never once failed in their Imperial Duties. Attempting to hide crimes and missteps would not help them, only earn prolonged suffering. Even death couldn't stop them. Stories told of humans inventing new technologies to bring the dead back to life only to denounce them trator to be stripped of all assets. In fact many are quite certain Death Himself pays what the Humans expect.
No, there are no other options. Not running, not honorable suicide, not even a death in combat that could keep the humans from their Dues.
The rich Dak wood doors at the far end of the room swung open revealing three humans, two female one male. None wore uniforms. Instead they wore the dreaded Suits. The black coat over a white shirt and tie that would spell doom for the Gedium Corporation and its many thousands of employees.
The lead female spoke "Good morning, Mr. Mal'tek. I am from the Imperial Revenue Service and we have spotted some inconsistencies in your books."
Humans, a Speciality Race. Speciality Races are rare in the Empire but they are vital to running the inner workings of the government and economy. A Speciality race is one that fulfils their role so well that the greatest of any other race could never outdo the least of the Speciality Race. For humans that went double. Many had thought that when Emperor Armegiour the Savior had leashed the humans it would have been the end of their horrible rampage but Armegiour's successor Nakfer the Cruel declared the Humans a Speciality Race, nearly causing a civil war, and set them upon the Galaxy. None could deny that it was due to the Humans that the Empire had entered its new Golden Age. Without the Humans the price of Government expansion would have simply been too great but at what cost did this Golden Age come? The Humans were righteous and unrelenting in their fulfilment of their duties and they had never once failed in their Imperial Duties. Attempting to hide crimes and missteps would not help them, only earn prolonged suffering. Even death couldn't stop them. Stories told of humans inventing new technologies to bring the dead back to life only to denounce them trator to be stripped of all assets. In fact many are quite certain Death Himself pays what the Humans expect.
No, there are no other options. Not running, not honorable suicide, not even a death in combat that could keep the humans from their Dues.
The rich Dak wood doors at the far end of the room swung open revealing three humans, two female one male. None wore uniforms. Instead they wore the dreaded Suits. The black coat over a white shirt and tie that would spell doom for the Gedium Corporation and its many thousands of employees.
The lead female spoke "Good morning, Mr. Mal'tek. I am from the Imperial Revenue Service and we have spotted some inconsistencies in your books."
“Get up the stairs!”
Ambassador Roootealla paused staring behind at the mass. Almost twenty thousand beings of a dozen races could be seen. Some were rebels, armed with a motley assortment of weaponry that was nonetheless perfectly capable of ending her life. Mixed in were professional agitators, experts at inflaming the passions of the disaffected and molding it in whatever way they or their paymasters desired. But the majority were common folks lashing out at their government for getting into a war they could not win. A perfectly understandable, if disappointing reaction.
Unfortunately, as a representative of the winning side, Roootealla was a legitimate and much more accessible target for their wrath.
“Come on, ma’am!” The human, John Mattingly, shouted again, grabbing her by a slender, fur covered arm and dragging her bodily up the flight. The human was the leader of the dozen security contractors the Arthwaanes Collective had hired to beef up the security of her guard. As distasteful as the Ambassador found using mercenaries, they had come highly recommended and it was cheaper to outsource the brawn than to keep them on staff. Her personal team consisted of eight fellow Arthwaanes bodyguards and - at least up until this morning - she considered them more than enough.
Well, she had eight bodyguards. Seeing the seething tide of destruction headed their way, the commander had deserted and the rest followed suit. Their abandonment had left one Ambassador Roootealla alone but for her twelve hired human guards. It had surprised her to no end that these mercenaries didn’t join the exodus. Rather, they had found this building, a solid reinforced ceramic construct, to hole up in and were even now busy fortifying it. It was almost like they expected to be able to hold on long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
“In here, Ambassador,” the human said, leading her into a section of empty offices midway up the structure. At one time, they would have bustled with life, but the war had drained the local economy of labor and capital. Now it was an empty shell with bare, stone cold walls. “Now, I need you to-“
She cut the man off. “Mr. Mattingly…”
“Agent, ma’am,” he corrected.
“I’m sorry, Agent Mattingly,” Roootealla corrected with only a trace of the inner turmoil she felt reaching her voice. She hadn’t even bothered to say more than a ten words to these beings in the hours before this mess. Now, she wished she had gotten a chance to know these brave souls. “I thank you for your aid, but it’s pointless. If you would leave a rifle and some ammunition you may feel free to make your escape. It’s me the mob wants.”
Mattingly took his time responding. “Thank you Ambassador Roootealla,” he began, actually managing to pronounce the odd syllables as if he were a native. “But I think we’ll just as soon stay right here.”
Roootealla was aghast. “But there are more than a thousand of them for each of you! Do you honestly expect to survive those odds?!”
“Humans have made it through worse,” he replied, shrugging. “And even if we don’t, there are much worse ways to die. But my team and I are committed. There’s no backing out now.”
She continued to stare at him, gaping, as the human met her gaze levelly. It was inconceivable that these mercenaries would be more willing to lay down their lives in her defense than members of her own nation. Or that a species so obviously insane could ever have achieved space flight.
“Now, ma’am, if we’re gonna defend this place, we need to get you secure and our defenses in place.” The ambassador once again allowed herself to be led away. As she was moved further back into the building, she passed other humans moving purposefully. She saw them setting out mines and charges. Some were erecting hasty barricades and fighting positions while others strung nanowire across hallways. One burly, dark skinned man seemed to be setting up what had to be a crew served plasma caster.
“Where did you get all of this?” She asked, hesitantly.
“We, uh, convinced a few of your guards to part with some hardware before they… made their exit,” Agent Mattingly said as tactfully as he could. “But most of it we carried ourselves.”
“You carried that!?” she asked, pointing incredulously at the crew served weapon they had just passed. There was no way her personal guards would have been able to cart a fifty-seven kilo monster like that around without her noticing.
“Heh. Yeah, Schlock has a thing for big guns. He grabbed it out of the truck as we bailed, and I’m really glad he did.”
“But you were hired for a light protection detail!” The slender Keellian flicked her ears in exasperation.
“Yes ma’am. And right about now I wish we had come with a heavy loadout. If we had our armor, I probably wouldn’t even have bothered holing up here. We could have cut a path to safety, no sweat.” Then he led her through a door into one of the central rooms of the building. Inside were several electronic devices along with a mass of fiber optic cabling and a few piles of supplies. How they had managed to set this up in the few short minutes they had been in the building escaped her. “Elke, keep an eye on the Ambassador while I look over these readings.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ambassador,” the human female said. She had what to Roootealla sounded like a strangely stilted accent; clipped, with an emphasis on odd syllables. “You can sit here, ma’am.” The tall, golden haired woman motioned to a pile of packs as she rummaged for something. “And please, put this on. Is not quite as good as tailored armor, but will stop most impacts.”
“Thank you, uh, Elke was it?” The Ambassador asked, shrugging into the heavy plate carrier. It was designed for humans, but the two species were close enough in build that it wasn’t a bad fit.
“Yes, Ambassador Roootealla. It is team name.”
“Well, since it appears we will be dying together, please call me Yawool,” the alien female said dryly.
Elke cocked her head and responded, “Would not count us as among dead just yet.”
She was about to respond when a buzz brought her attention to one of the multitude of screens. Through it, she saw that the mob had brought up prybars and cutting torches and attacking the building doors with abandon. Build to withstand vandalism and petty burglary, they were strong but couldn’t stand up to concerted attack. “Elke, I think it’s about time we welcome our guests,” John said, pointing.
The woman seemed to inflate slightly as she asked, “How is crowd? I would not want to start the ball early.”
“They’re packed shoulder to tentacle down there,” was the reply. “At least a dozen have to have been trampled by the rest.”
“Good. But make sure you get video.”
“Heh, got it from three angles,” Mattingly responded, in an amused tone. Then his voice chilled as he gave the command, “Do it.”
Elke’s finger stabbed down on a control and there was a muted thump. Roootealla watched through a screen as the door was blown off its hinges by several precisely placed charges. For a moment, she was surprised that her bodyguards would have wasted even the relatively few minutes of protection the door would have afforded them in exchange for injuring a handful of attackers.
Then the thermobaric charge strapped to the back detonated in the middle of the crowd.
Several hundred attackers were instantly pulped by the deflagration burn, organs turned to mush by the sudden wall of air that thundered through them. Almost a thousand more were injured to varying degrees, ranging from massive bruising to ruptured aural cavities to damaged respiratory systems. For a moment, it looked like the mob had been broken by the carnage.
And then they seemed to explode forward, racing for the suddenly unbarred doorway. The horde crashed into the lobby and into the building, searching for their prize. But they were hunting a very dangerous game, as the steadily accumulating body count aptly indicated. Mines, ranging from toe poppers to emplaced charges to the modern equivalent to the old fashion M18 Claymore of Old Earth fame cut huge swaths through the advancing parties. Unsuspecting frontrunners were cut in half, as if by an invisible razor, as the pressure of those behind them forced them into monomolecular carbon nano-filament. Others were crushed as pre-stressed supports gave way under the weight of hundreds of bodies.
But the flood would not be stopped by mere traps. They were hungry for blood, and they had their victim cornered. This depleted but still substantial force burst through the stairwell and straight into massed human fire. Hypervelocity rifles barked and flechette guns coughed as dozens of bodies hit the floor. Then the crew served plasma caster opened up and the remainder of the attackers were flash fried. A few still in the stairway caught the edge of the blast and fell, writhing as they received instant third degree burns.
Once again, the crowd surged, some charging into the kill zone as the horrible weapon charged for another shot. A few of the smarter searched for an alternate route or a thin wall they could break down. Eventually, they would find a way in.
“If you’ll excuse me, madam Ambassador, I need to get to the defenses,” Agent Mattingly said as he turned to leave the relative safety of the interior office.
“Wait,” Roootealla interrupted. “Before you go, answer one question.” At a nod, she asked simply, “Why?”
“Excuse me?” Mattingly asked, confused.
“Why are you here? Why did you stay rather than escape when you had a chance. I mean, for the Universe’s sake, we’re not even the same species!”
Agent John Mattingly looked at her for a long moment before saying simply, “We gave you our word. Without that, what are we?” And then he turned and sprinted to where the rest of his men and women were preparing to fight and die, simply to preserve their honor.
Captain Herrror of the Arthwaanes Marine Corps shook his head as he walked over the carpet of bodies that littered the square. He had seen some terrible things in the People’s service, but he didn’t think even the massacres of Deltor Prime were quite on this level. “No,” he thought, as he passed a body whose lungs had been torn out through the mouth by the implosion effect of a thermobaric bomb. “This is definitely worse than Deltor.”
He had wanted to lead his company off the light cruiser Protector Froomar hours ago. Politics prevented that. The station commander - an incompetent if he had ever seen one – had spent the time trying to convince the locals to do the job. Good PR he had said. Show our trust he had said. It made Herrror want to vomit. The locals wouldn’t have bothered to piss on an Arthwaanian if they had been on fire. And the delay had probably cost the Ambassador her life.
“What a waste,” he muttered to himself as he climbed through the shattered remains of the doorway. “But at least they died well.” And so they had. By the captain’s practiced eye, there were over six thousand dead between the square and the first floor alone. He grew more impressed as he continued through the building. It was obvious whoever had planned this defense knew his stuff, and Herrror was going to make sure he got a medal for it, even if it was posthumous.
“Sir,” a voice called out over the coms, “I think you will want to see this. Twelfth floor, through stairwell three.” The Captain acknowledged the call and began to make his way to the indicated position. As he did, the bodies seemed to get thicker. Some appeared to have been left where they fell, but a vast majority looked to have been moved to an out of the way spot, as if to make room for more to take their place.
Walking onto the twelfth floor lander, he was suddenly faced with a mountain. It reached the ceiling and covered a patch of flooring eight meters across and at least five deep. He couldn’t tell if it went any further than that because it was obviously centered on a doorway. And the mountain? It was made of corpses.
“I think we found the last stand,” he told the gathered marines around him. “Time to start digging.” He proceeded to grab a body and hurl it to the side. A few of the soldiers looked more than a little reluctant, but they joined their officer in the job. Soon the doorway was clear enough squeeze a suit through, so Captain Herrror lay down and belly crawled over the top of the pile. On the other side, he froze.
The pile did indeed extend for several meters into the room, but that wasn’t what grabbed his attention. It was the six humans, sprawled against the far wall. They were covered in bandages, quick heal, and a couple of splints. Blood soaked their clothing and it was obviously at least partly their own. They were slumped there like so many dead. But they weren’t.
Captain Herrror saw one lift his head and nod slowly to the Arthwaanes officer. Then, as the marine regained his senses and began to move forward once again, he pulled a small package from his front pocket.
“Ambassador Roootealla?” he asked, hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
The human jerked a thumb to a doorway. “Back there,” he said in a voice that spoke of unimaginable exhaustion. “I’ve got my medic looking at her. Not much else he can do here,” he said, indicating their dressed wounds and the five blanket covered forms laid neatly in a corner. “She’s fine,” he continued, cutting off the Captain’s next question. “Just the shock of the ordeal.”
Herrror nodded and ordered a pair of his troops to secure the Ambassador as he removed his helmet to get a good look at the man in front of him. The human had produced a cigarette from the package and lit it with a small device. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thing. Tobacco was outlawed on most planets as a carcinogen and a filthy habit, but the human took a long drag anyway.
“That stuff will kill you, you know?” Herrror said. It was stupid, but he had to say something, and the noxious smoke was messing with his mind.
The human looked down at the cancer stick, and then at his comrades, living and dead, before moving to the much larger pile of would be murderers against the far wall. Finally his gaze returned to the alien in front of him, and it seemed to Herrror as if the man was staring right through him. “Yeah,” John Mattingly said, sighing, “But at this point, they’ll have to get in line.”
Ambassador Roootealla paused staring behind at the mass. Almost twenty thousand beings of a dozen races could be seen. Some were rebels, armed with a motley assortment of weaponry that was nonetheless perfectly capable of ending her life. Mixed in were professional agitators, experts at inflaming the passions of the disaffected and molding it in whatever way they or their paymasters desired. But the majority were common folks lashing out at their government for getting into a war they could not win. A perfectly understandable, if disappointing reaction.
Unfortunately, as a representative of the winning side, Roootealla was a legitimate and much more accessible target for their wrath.
“Come on, ma’am!” The human, John Mattingly, shouted again, grabbing her by a slender, fur covered arm and dragging her bodily up the flight. The human was the leader of the dozen security contractors the Arthwaanes Collective had hired to beef up the security of her guard. As distasteful as the Ambassador found using mercenaries, they had come highly recommended and it was cheaper to outsource the brawn than to keep them on staff. Her personal team consisted of eight fellow Arthwaanes bodyguards and - at least up until this morning - she considered them more than enough.
Well, she had eight bodyguards. Seeing the seething tide of destruction headed their way, the commander had deserted and the rest followed suit. Their abandonment had left one Ambassador Roootealla alone but for her twelve hired human guards. It had surprised her to no end that these mercenaries didn’t join the exodus. Rather, they had found this building, a solid reinforced ceramic construct, to hole up in and were even now busy fortifying it. It was almost like they expected to be able to hold on long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
“In here, Ambassador,” the human said, leading her into a section of empty offices midway up the structure. At one time, they would have bustled with life, but the war had drained the local economy of labor and capital. Now it was an empty shell with bare, stone cold walls. “Now, I need you to-“
She cut the man off. “Mr. Mattingly…”
“Agent, ma’am,” he corrected.
“I’m sorry, Agent Mattingly,” Roootealla corrected with only a trace of the inner turmoil she felt reaching her voice. She hadn’t even bothered to say more than a ten words to these beings in the hours before this mess. Now, she wished she had gotten a chance to know these brave souls. “I thank you for your aid, but it’s pointless. If you would leave a rifle and some ammunition you may feel free to make your escape. It’s me the mob wants.”
Mattingly took his time responding. “Thank you Ambassador Roootealla,” he began, actually managing to pronounce the odd syllables as if he were a native. “But I think we’ll just as soon stay right here.”
Roootealla was aghast. “But there are more than a thousand of them for each of you! Do you honestly expect to survive those odds?!”
“Humans have made it through worse,” he replied, shrugging. “And even if we don’t, there are much worse ways to die. But my team and I are committed. There’s no backing out now.”
She continued to stare at him, gaping, as the human met her gaze levelly. It was inconceivable that these mercenaries would be more willing to lay down their lives in her defense than members of her own nation. Or that a species so obviously insane could ever have achieved space flight.
“Now, ma’am, if we’re gonna defend this place, we need to get you secure and our defenses in place.” The ambassador once again allowed herself to be led away. As she was moved further back into the building, she passed other humans moving purposefully. She saw them setting out mines and charges. Some were erecting hasty barricades and fighting positions while others strung nanowire across hallways. One burly, dark skinned man seemed to be setting up what had to be a crew served plasma caster.
“Where did you get all of this?” She asked, hesitantly.
“We, uh, convinced a few of your guards to part with some hardware before they… made their exit,” Agent Mattingly said as tactfully as he could. “But most of it we carried ourselves.”
“You carried that!?” she asked, pointing incredulously at the crew served weapon they had just passed. There was no way her personal guards would have been able to cart a fifty-seven kilo monster like that around without her noticing.
“Heh. Yeah, Schlock has a thing for big guns. He grabbed it out of the truck as we bailed, and I’m really glad he did.”
“But you were hired for a light protection detail!” The slender Keellian flicked her ears in exasperation.
“Yes ma’am. And right about now I wish we had come with a heavy loadout. If we had our armor, I probably wouldn’t even have bothered holing up here. We could have cut a path to safety, no sweat.” Then he led her through a door into one of the central rooms of the building. Inside were several electronic devices along with a mass of fiber optic cabling and a few piles of supplies. How they had managed to set this up in the few short minutes they had been in the building escaped her. “Elke, keep an eye on the Ambassador while I look over these readings.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ambassador,” the human female said. She had what to Roootealla sounded like a strangely stilted accent; clipped, with an emphasis on odd syllables. “You can sit here, ma’am.” The tall, golden haired woman motioned to a pile of packs as she rummaged for something. “And please, put this on. Is not quite as good as tailored armor, but will stop most impacts.”
“Thank you, uh, Elke was it?” The Ambassador asked, shrugging into the heavy plate carrier. It was designed for humans, but the two species were close enough in build that it wasn’t a bad fit.
“Yes, Ambassador Roootealla. It is team name.”
“Well, since it appears we will be dying together, please call me Yawool,” the alien female said dryly.
Elke cocked her head and responded, “Would not count us as among dead just yet.”
She was about to respond when a buzz brought her attention to one of the multitude of screens. Through it, she saw that the mob had brought up prybars and cutting torches and attacking the building doors with abandon. Build to withstand vandalism and petty burglary, they were strong but couldn’t stand up to concerted attack. “Elke, I think it’s about time we welcome our guests,” John said, pointing.
The woman seemed to inflate slightly as she asked, “How is crowd? I would not want to start the ball early.”
“They’re packed shoulder to tentacle down there,” was the reply. “At least a dozen have to have been trampled by the rest.”
“Good. But make sure you get video.”
“Heh, got it from three angles,” Mattingly responded, in an amused tone. Then his voice chilled as he gave the command, “Do it.”
Elke’s finger stabbed down on a control and there was a muted thump. Roootealla watched through a screen as the door was blown off its hinges by several precisely placed charges. For a moment, she was surprised that her bodyguards would have wasted even the relatively few minutes of protection the door would have afforded them in exchange for injuring a handful of attackers.
Then the thermobaric charge strapped to the back detonated in the middle of the crowd.
Several hundred attackers were instantly pulped by the deflagration burn, organs turned to mush by the sudden wall of air that thundered through them. Almost a thousand more were injured to varying degrees, ranging from massive bruising to ruptured aural cavities to damaged respiratory systems. For a moment, it looked like the mob had been broken by the carnage.
And then they seemed to explode forward, racing for the suddenly unbarred doorway. The horde crashed into the lobby and into the building, searching for their prize. But they were hunting a very dangerous game, as the steadily accumulating body count aptly indicated. Mines, ranging from toe poppers to emplaced charges to the modern equivalent to the old fashion M18 Claymore of Old Earth fame cut huge swaths through the advancing parties. Unsuspecting frontrunners were cut in half, as if by an invisible razor, as the pressure of those behind them forced them into monomolecular carbon nano-filament. Others were crushed as pre-stressed supports gave way under the weight of hundreds of bodies.
But the flood would not be stopped by mere traps. They were hungry for blood, and they had their victim cornered. This depleted but still substantial force burst through the stairwell and straight into massed human fire. Hypervelocity rifles barked and flechette guns coughed as dozens of bodies hit the floor. Then the crew served plasma caster opened up and the remainder of the attackers were flash fried. A few still in the stairway caught the edge of the blast and fell, writhing as they received instant third degree burns.
Once again, the crowd surged, some charging into the kill zone as the horrible weapon charged for another shot. A few of the smarter searched for an alternate route or a thin wall they could break down. Eventually, they would find a way in.
“If you’ll excuse me, madam Ambassador, I need to get to the defenses,” Agent Mattingly said as he turned to leave the relative safety of the interior office.
“Wait,” Roootealla interrupted. “Before you go, answer one question.” At a nod, she asked simply, “Why?”
“Excuse me?” Mattingly asked, confused.
“Why are you here? Why did you stay rather than escape when you had a chance. I mean, for the Universe’s sake, we’re not even the same species!”
Agent John Mattingly looked at her for a long moment before saying simply, “We gave you our word. Without that, what are we?” And then he turned and sprinted to where the rest of his men and women were preparing to fight and die, simply to preserve their honor.
Captain Herrror of the Arthwaanes Marine Corps shook his head as he walked over the carpet of bodies that littered the square. He had seen some terrible things in the People’s service, but he didn’t think even the massacres of Deltor Prime were quite on this level. “No,” he thought, as he passed a body whose lungs had been torn out through the mouth by the implosion effect of a thermobaric bomb. “This is definitely worse than Deltor.”
He had wanted to lead his company off the light cruiser Protector Froomar hours ago. Politics prevented that. The station commander - an incompetent if he had ever seen one – had spent the time trying to convince the locals to do the job. Good PR he had said. Show our trust he had said. It made Herrror want to vomit. The locals wouldn’t have bothered to piss on an Arthwaanian if they had been on fire. And the delay had probably cost the Ambassador her life.
“What a waste,” he muttered to himself as he climbed through the shattered remains of the doorway. “But at least they died well.” And so they had. By the captain’s practiced eye, there were over six thousand dead between the square and the first floor alone. He grew more impressed as he continued through the building. It was obvious whoever had planned this defense knew his stuff, and Herrror was going to make sure he got a medal for it, even if it was posthumous.
“Sir,” a voice called out over the coms, “I think you will want to see this. Twelfth floor, through stairwell three.” The Captain acknowledged the call and began to make his way to the indicated position. As he did, the bodies seemed to get thicker. Some appeared to have been left where they fell, but a vast majority looked to have been moved to an out of the way spot, as if to make room for more to take their place.
Walking onto the twelfth floor lander, he was suddenly faced with a mountain. It reached the ceiling and covered a patch of flooring eight meters across and at least five deep. He couldn’t tell if it went any further than that because it was obviously centered on a doorway. And the mountain? It was made of corpses.
“I think we found the last stand,” he told the gathered marines around him. “Time to start digging.” He proceeded to grab a body and hurl it to the side. A few of the soldiers looked more than a little reluctant, but they joined their officer in the job. Soon the doorway was clear enough squeeze a suit through, so Captain Herrror lay down and belly crawled over the top of the pile. On the other side, he froze.
The pile did indeed extend for several meters into the room, but that wasn’t what grabbed his attention. It was the six humans, sprawled against the far wall. They were covered in bandages, quick heal, and a couple of splints. Blood soaked their clothing and it was obviously at least partly their own. They were slumped there like so many dead. But they weren’t.
Captain Herrror saw one lift his head and nod slowly to the Arthwaanes officer. Then, as the marine regained his senses and began to move forward once again, he pulled a small package from his front pocket.
“Ambassador Roootealla?” he asked, hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
The human jerked a thumb to a doorway. “Back there,” he said in a voice that spoke of unimaginable exhaustion. “I’ve got my medic looking at her. Not much else he can do here,” he said, indicating their dressed wounds and the five blanket covered forms laid neatly in a corner. “She’s fine,” he continued, cutting off the Captain’s next question. “Just the shock of the ordeal.”
Herrror nodded and ordered a pair of his troops to secure the Ambassador as he removed his helmet to get a good look at the man in front of him. The human had produced a cigarette from the package and lit it with a small device. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thing. Tobacco was outlawed on most planets as a carcinogen and a filthy habit, but the human took a long drag anyway.
“That stuff will kill you, you know?” Herrror said. It was stupid, but he had to say something, and the noxious smoke was messing with his mind.
The human looked down at the cancer stick, and then at his comrades, living and dead, before moving to the much larger pile of would be murderers against the far wall. Finally his gaze returned to the alien in front of him, and it seemed to Herrror as if the man was staring right through him. “Yeah,” John Mattingly said, sighing, “But at this point, they’ll have to get in line.”
Уже четвертая? Сука там же трилоджи была.
Ki’Kil turned at the sound of his dorm room door unlocking. As he expected, in came his roommate. “Hey, Aniris. I still have a few cycles of work tonight, but I can move to the common room if you need the sleep.” Aniris, his mammalian roommate, was a member of a species with long sleep cycles due to terrible night vision and an odd quirk of evolution. The poor Enrethian needed twice the sleep of anyone else on campus, and at odd times as well.
“Not tonight, Ki. I heard from one of the TAs that Professor Hek’con is giving us one of his pop quizzes tomorrow and I have to study. I just can’t wrap my head around the third transition phase of heavy up spin delta particles. My own damn fault for taking the class, though.” He made an odd whistling noise that was his version of a sigh.
Ki’Kil was surprised. “You sure, man? Normally you’re just about dead on your feet this time of night.”
“Well, I have a secret weapon this time. You know that human in Quantum Distributed Algorithms? Ashley Jennings?” At an affirmative gesture from Ki’Kil he continued. “Well, I helped her out on a really nasty problem last week. When she overheard me complaining to the TA that there was no way I could possibly be ready for the test tomorrow, she gave me this and said it would help.” He held up a small bottle. From the sloshing noises it made, there was obviously some sort of liquid inside. He opened the container and Ki’Kil could see a light brown substance emitting a thin cloud of steam.
“What is that?” he asked. Taking a whiff, he nearly gagged at the smell.
Aniris shrugged. “Some sort of recreational stimulant, she said. Not sure what kind, exactly, but I,” he said happily, “am biologically compatible with humans. Unlike some beings in this room.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up furball,” the insectoid muttered. Human food had recently gained some popularity around the university and Aniris had been rubbing it in his face lately. Their stuff smelled like rotten keck-flesh, anyway. Stupid dextro-dextro lifeforms lording it over the rest of them.
“Ha! You’ll be singing another tune when I ace my test tomorrow. Who knows, maybe she has a version for lefties like you.” They laughed and then Aniris went over to his desk. Ashley had warned him this liquid was usually bitter, but she had added some saccharides and a white high lipid solution to improve the taste. “Well, time to get to work,” he muttered, getting out his notes and taking a sip of the warm brew.
*
Ashley Jennings stifled a yawn as she walked down the hallways. She’d never been a morning person, and it had been a late night of studying for this quiz between binge watching Firefly Season 18 on the holo. Tonight, she resolved, she’d get a full night’s rest. Well, at least after-
Her thoughts cut off as something grabbed her shoulder. She turned quickly and saw…
“Aniris? What’s wrong?” The tall, furry mammalian was obviously having some sort of trouble. His arms and legs didn’t seem to wait to stay still, and his fur was matted in places. But it was his eyes that drew her gaze. All four orbs were flicking back and forth wildly, like he was searching for some monster only he could see.
“WhatDidYouPutInIt?” The words came out in a rush, almost too fast to understand.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. What did I put in…?”
“The drink!” he shouted, drawing stares from passersby. “What did you put in that drink?!”
He was still loud, but at least his speech had slowed down enough for Ashley to understand it. “The coffee? Nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me! You put something in there! I know you did!”
“Aniris,” she replied, trying her best to calm him down, “all I put in it was cream and sugar, and you’ve had that stuff before. Unless you really don’t react well to caffeine, I don’t know-“
“Caffeine?!” His wild eyes had opened wider if that was even possible. “How much caffeine?”
“Uhh…” she pulled out her pad and did a quick search. “Well, it was a mild blend, with plenty of cream, so… About fifty milligrams. That’s twenty three micro units.”
“Twenty thre-“ He cut off, shuddering. It was no wonder he had been like this all night. “You mean,” Aniris said, a bit more slowly, “you gave me three doses of caffeine? The caffeine our military uses for combat drugs? That caffeine?!”
“Ohhh… oops,” she said, her own eyes going wide.
“And you’re telling me you humans drink it for fun?”
In response, Ashley holds up her own vente cup full of a dark black blend. “I really can’t do anything without my morning cup,” she said, shrugging.
“Cup? CUP?!” Now Aniris was gaping at her, staring at a container with enough combat stims in it to kill him twice over. For her own part, Ashley hid her amusement at the alien’s reaction, though she had to force herself not to take a quick drink. But after a minute he settled down enough for Ashley to convince him to go get his system flushed at the infirmary.
“Note to self,” she thought as Aniris started to walk down the hall. “Don’t tell these guys about Red Bull.”
“Not tonight, Ki. I heard from one of the TAs that Professor Hek’con is giving us one of his pop quizzes tomorrow and I have to study. I just can’t wrap my head around the third transition phase of heavy up spin delta particles. My own damn fault for taking the class, though.” He made an odd whistling noise that was his version of a sigh.
Ki’Kil was surprised. “You sure, man? Normally you’re just about dead on your feet this time of night.”
“Well, I have a secret weapon this time. You know that human in Quantum Distributed Algorithms? Ashley Jennings?” At an affirmative gesture from Ki’Kil he continued. “Well, I helped her out on a really nasty problem last week. When she overheard me complaining to the TA that there was no way I could possibly be ready for the test tomorrow, she gave me this and said it would help.” He held up a small bottle. From the sloshing noises it made, there was obviously some sort of liquid inside. He opened the container and Ki’Kil could see a light brown substance emitting a thin cloud of steam.
“What is that?” he asked. Taking a whiff, he nearly gagged at the smell.
Aniris shrugged. “Some sort of recreational stimulant, she said. Not sure what kind, exactly, but I,” he said happily, “am biologically compatible with humans. Unlike some beings in this room.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up furball,” the insectoid muttered. Human food had recently gained some popularity around the university and Aniris had been rubbing it in his face lately. Their stuff smelled like rotten keck-flesh, anyway. Stupid dextro-dextro lifeforms lording it over the rest of them.
“Ha! You’ll be singing another tune when I ace my test tomorrow. Who knows, maybe she has a version for lefties like you.” They laughed and then Aniris went over to his desk. Ashley had warned him this liquid was usually bitter, but she had added some saccharides and a white high lipid solution to improve the taste. “Well, time to get to work,” he muttered, getting out his notes and taking a sip of the warm brew.
*
Ashley Jennings stifled a yawn as she walked down the hallways. She’d never been a morning person, and it had been a late night of studying for this quiz between binge watching Firefly Season 18 on the holo. Tonight, she resolved, she’d get a full night’s rest. Well, at least after-
Her thoughts cut off as something grabbed her shoulder. She turned quickly and saw…
“Aniris? What’s wrong?” The tall, furry mammalian was obviously having some sort of trouble. His arms and legs didn’t seem to wait to stay still, and his fur was matted in places. But it was his eyes that drew her gaze. All four orbs were flicking back and forth wildly, like he was searching for some monster only he could see.
“WhatDidYouPutInIt?” The words came out in a rush, almost too fast to understand.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. What did I put in…?”
“The drink!” he shouted, drawing stares from passersby. “What did you put in that drink?!”
He was still loud, but at least his speech had slowed down enough for Ashley to understand it. “The coffee? Nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me! You put something in there! I know you did!”
“Aniris,” she replied, trying her best to calm him down, “all I put in it was cream and sugar, and you’ve had that stuff before. Unless you really don’t react well to caffeine, I don’t know-“
“Caffeine?!” His wild eyes had opened wider if that was even possible. “How much caffeine?”
“Uhh…” she pulled out her pad and did a quick search. “Well, it was a mild blend, with plenty of cream, so… About fifty milligrams. That’s twenty three micro units.”
“Twenty thre-“ He cut off, shuddering. It was no wonder he had been like this all night. “You mean,” Aniris said, a bit more slowly, “you gave me three doses of caffeine? The caffeine our military uses for combat drugs? That caffeine?!”
“Ohhh… oops,” she said, her own eyes going wide.
“And you’re telling me you humans drink it for fun?”
In response, Ashley holds up her own vente cup full of a dark black blend. “I really can’t do anything without my morning cup,” she said, shrugging.
“Cup? CUP?!” Now Aniris was gaping at her, staring at a container with enough combat stims in it to kill him twice over. For her own part, Ashley hid her amusement at the alien’s reaction, though she had to force herself not to take a quick drink. But after a minute he settled down enough for Ashley to convince him to go get his system flushed at the infirmary.
“Note to self,” she thought as Aniris started to walk down the hall. “Don’t tell these guys about Red Bull.”
Саймак "Снова и снова"
Но это же нихрена не фак е, тут человеки - ебаные слоупоки которых только пушкой разбудишь.
Можешь навернуть марк твена, что-то там экспедиция.
You've never known a galaxy without humans. It is hard to imagine, isn't it? They are so ingrained in every part of life in the galaxy today. I haven't either, but it is my duty as historian to know and tell you how it came to be. It was just 25 generations ago that our surveys first encountered their ships.
You of course know about the history of your species. You know the achievements of your ancient scientists and luminaries. A chain of brilliant minds, slowly chipping at the secrets of the universe. You probably don't know the history of the humans, do you?
You'd be excused if you didn't know about Isaac Newton, who invented calculus. He invented calculus so he could study motions of the heavens. You see, he also discovered the laws of motion and gravitation. He advanced optics, invented the first reflective telescope and discovered the spectrum of light. He formulated law of heat transfer. He discovered fluid dynamics. Invented method of approximating roots of functions and even implemented the most extensive currency reform his country had seen.
I can see the stunned disbelief in your faces. Any single one of these could be the culmination of an entire life's work of any of our brightest minds. I have not made an error, there is a verifiable historic record for him to have done all of these things. And he was not alone, another, Albert Einstein discovered relativity, the photoelectric effect, and made numerous advances in statistical mechanics, particle theory and quantum physics.
The humans have estimated that Newton's "Intelligence Quotient" was 190. Einstein's IQ was 160. Harmonized with the galactic measures of intelligence, these two people would score slightly above average and slightly below average.
Stop shaking your head. I know what you're thinking. Yes, that means that you are likely as smart as the smartest humans who have ever lived. In fact, almost every human you have ever met would be classified as having a learning disability, if not outright moderate mental retardation by the standards of any of your worlds.
How could a species like this ever have even got the stars, let alone become so ubiquitous that you'd be hard pressed to not to bump into a human even in the most remotest of outposts, I hear you ask. Have you ever asked a human how old he was? No. Of course you haven't, that would be the height of rudeness for you'd be implying that they would be soon to die. I will have to be tactless now and reveal that I, myself, am [seven years] old. I know, I know, you don't have to say that I don't look that old. But the truth is that I am already living on life extension treatment and will likely die within the year.
Do you know what the human shipping clerk in the shuttle bay receivings—you know who I am talking about—was doing when he was ten standard years old, seven of their years? He was barely learning the alphabet of his language. He didn't leave school until he was [21 years] old. Yes. Even the lowliest human shipping clerk has been in school for longer than any two of you will be alive.
You see, humans are the slow people. They are the red dwarfs of the Universe, dim and dull, yet in the end they will outshine all the bright giants combined, for the giants burn so bright that their lives are mere flashes against the backdrop of their steady shine.
Isaac Newton lived to [84 years]. Albert Einstein, [76]. And with their current life extension treatments, Mr. Stephenson in receivings will most likely live to [120 years]. What could you accomplish with 12 lifetimes? This, is how the humans have inherited the galaxy.
You of course know about the history of your species. You know the achievements of your ancient scientists and luminaries. A chain of brilliant minds, slowly chipping at the secrets of the universe. You probably don't know the history of the humans, do you?
You'd be excused if you didn't know about Isaac Newton, who invented calculus. He invented calculus so he could study motions of the heavens. You see, he also discovered the laws of motion and gravitation. He advanced optics, invented the first reflective telescope and discovered the spectrum of light. He formulated law of heat transfer. He discovered fluid dynamics. Invented method of approximating roots of functions and even implemented the most extensive currency reform his country had seen.
I can see the stunned disbelief in your faces. Any single one of these could be the culmination of an entire life's work of any of our brightest minds. I have not made an error, there is a verifiable historic record for him to have done all of these things. And he was not alone, another, Albert Einstein discovered relativity, the photoelectric effect, and made numerous advances in statistical mechanics, particle theory and quantum physics.
The humans have estimated that Newton's "Intelligence Quotient" was 190. Einstein's IQ was 160. Harmonized with the galactic measures of intelligence, these two people would score slightly above average and slightly below average.
Stop shaking your head. I know what you're thinking. Yes, that means that you are likely as smart as the smartest humans who have ever lived. In fact, almost every human you have ever met would be classified as having a learning disability, if not outright moderate mental retardation by the standards of any of your worlds.
How could a species like this ever have even got the stars, let alone become so ubiquitous that you'd be hard pressed to not to bump into a human even in the most remotest of outposts, I hear you ask. Have you ever asked a human how old he was? No. Of course you haven't, that would be the height of rudeness for you'd be implying that they would be soon to die. I will have to be tactless now and reveal that I, myself, am [seven years] old. I know, I know, you don't have to say that I don't look that old. But the truth is that I am already living on life extension treatment and will likely die within the year.
Do you know what the human shipping clerk in the shuttle bay receivings—you know who I am talking about—was doing when he was ten standard years old, seven of their years? He was barely learning the alphabet of his language. He didn't leave school until he was [21 years] old. Yes. Even the lowliest human shipping clerk has been in school for longer than any two of you will be alive.
You see, humans are the slow people. They are the red dwarfs of the Universe, dim and dull, yet in the end they will outshine all the bright giants combined, for the giants burn so bright that their lives are mere flashes against the backdrop of their steady shine.
Isaac Newton lived to [84 years]. Albert Einstein, [76]. And with their current life extension treatments, Mr. Stephenson in receivings will most likely live to [120 years]. What could you accomplish with 12 lifetimes? This, is how the humans have inherited the galaxy.
аж волосы дыбом, круто)
Когда макака прикрутит нормальную капчу?
>Albert Einstein discovered relativity
Сука, как же они заебали, блядь.
Смешно :(
Смешно :(
A mere few million miles from a pale blue marble, alien powers bickered.
"We exterminate them!" Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv screamed, his chitin fist cracking the table ever so slightly. His massive armored frame dominated the room.
"Yes," the amphibious Pasha replied with a nod, "Otherwise they'll infest the entire area."
The Hurakani delegate rolled his ten eyes. "Good, we've settled what to do about the space rats in the mess hall; it only took you ten hours. Now what do we do about the humans?"
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv glanced at Earth floating in the black void, then looked at the assembled council with a shrug. "Iunno. Blow it up?"
The ship's AI suddenly butted into the conversation, its voice flat and hollow. "That course of action is not recommended."
After some jeers and cries of 'why not?!', the AI brought up a holographic display in the middle of the room and explained.
"Simulations predict that catastrophic damage to Earth would not kill the humans, and would in fact only antagonize them."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv slammed his fast on the table again. The table cracked further, but Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv's exoskeleton suffered far more damage, splitting and shattering open to reveal the soft flesh underneath. He nonchalantly ripped it off, silently cursing himself when he remembered his species couldn't regenerate limbs.
"Please explain to me exactly how they wouldn't die from an asteroid being dropped on them!"
Pasha raised her hand. "I thought we were going glass it."
Another delegate raised her voice. "What? We all agreed on an old-fashioned invasion!"
Then crowd quickly devolved into chaos and argument.
"We were gonna virus-bomb it!"
"Throw it into their sun! Duh!"
"You're all idiots! We banished them there in the first place so it would kill them!"
"No we didn't!"
"Yes we did!"
Pasha had enough and screamed. "Enough!"
The assembled aliens silence themselves and turned to the serene delegate.
"We'll just do a combo of all those things, huh? Besides, they're still in the stone age, they won't be able to stop us anyway."
"That is unlikely," the AI said.
"Why?"
"Turn around."
Pasha complied and whipped back only to see a significantly different Earth. Much of its greenery had shrunk, and countless points of light hovered around the planet in a pale white shimmer.
"That's...impossible!" Pasha cried, "We had our backs turned for literally two minutes!"
"This complicates things..." Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv mumbled, but then his eyes brightened and his snapped one of his claws. "I got it! We'll drop two asteroids on them!"
Pasha pinched her brow and spoke. "No! Look. I know a few cosmic horrors and renegade AIs that owe me some favors. I'll call them and we'll get this all sorted out."
"Also will not work," the AI replied.
Before Pasha could ask why, live feeds were brought up from around the galaxy.
The Iron Cloud's computational matrix was cold and unknowing, its drones lying still in the cold darkness of space.
The Bio-Horde was black and crisp, its brain spilled over the continents of Mars.
The Seven Horrors were gone, only bits of their corrupt flesh floating at the edges of the galaxy.
And none could find the words to describe what had happened to The Lurking One.
Pasha's mouth was agape. "H-how?!"
The AI responded by zooming in one of the Iron Cloud's city-sized drones to show a small group of humans dancing on it, shooting guns in the air and making generally lewd gestures.
"While you were all arguing," the AI said, "the humans have been having fun."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv threw his limbs up. "That's it," he stated, "AI, order the fleets to begin cleansing of the humans."
The AI replied. "Of course. I will direct the first and second fleets to the nearest staging areas and I will also sniff myself because I am a butt and I love smelling farts."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv's segmented jaw dropped. "...Buh?"
One of the navigators raised his voice. "Sir! The AI's been hacked by the humans! They turned all the AI's data files into pictures of skulls!"
At that moment, a small furry alien made its way into the center of the meeting room. Carrying a large staff and covered with tribal paint, its squeaky voice almost too much to stand.
"I warned you all!" it spat while circling in place, pointing an accusing finger at the assembled crowd, "But none of you listened! You cannot kill them! You can only plead for your lives! None are safe from The Violent Ones!"
"The what?" Pasha blurted.
"His species worships the humans. That's what they call them." Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv answered.
"Fool!" another squeaky voice shouted at the opposite side of the room. An equally small and adorable alien appeared, wearing garments similar to the first. "The Ascended shall bring about an era of galactic peace! You spread heresy!"
The two small rodent-like aliens ran into each other and began to tussle, each screaming litanies and curses at one another. Every few seconds, another alien would join the brawl, hoping to appease The Gods or The High or The Warlords or whatever other colorful names they associated with the humans.
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv turned away from the madness and looked out the window to see Earth had changed again. The small shoal of ships around the planet had become a near-blanket, and Luna's dark side showed the crisscross of massive settlement as well.
He turned back. Everyone was wearing human clothes, blue jeans, and several humans were now in the room and shooting their machine guns around randomly. And above it all, horrible human music whined over the loudspeakers.
Pasha lowered her oversized sunglasses. "Hey, man, these humans are pretty cool. Their culture is like, infectious, you know?"
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv gasped, then looked down. He was wearing blue jeans.
In a panic, he pushed himself away from the council and into the control room, where all the technicians were also wearing blue jeans. He looked up. Blue jeans grafted into the bulkhead. Back down, he was now wearing a blue jean jacket.
With no other choice, he slammed the airlock release button and in an instant was vented out into space. But instead of being greeted by the welcoming embrace of cold death, he saw only a patchy blue wall.
He opened his mouth to scream. There was no air, no nothing.
Only blue jeans.
"We exterminate them!" Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv screamed, his chitin fist cracking the table ever so slightly. His massive armored frame dominated the room.
"Yes," the amphibious Pasha replied with a nod, "Otherwise they'll infest the entire area."
The Hurakani delegate rolled his ten eyes. "Good, we've settled what to do about the space rats in the mess hall; it only took you ten hours. Now what do we do about the humans?"
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv glanced at Earth floating in the black void, then looked at the assembled council with a shrug. "Iunno. Blow it up?"
The ship's AI suddenly butted into the conversation, its voice flat and hollow. "That course of action is not recommended."
After some jeers and cries of 'why not?!', the AI brought up a holographic display in the middle of the room and explained.
"Simulations predict that catastrophic damage to Earth would not kill the humans, and would in fact only antagonize them."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv slammed his fast on the table again. The table cracked further, but Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv's exoskeleton suffered far more damage, splitting and shattering open to reveal the soft flesh underneath. He nonchalantly ripped it off, silently cursing himself when he remembered his species couldn't regenerate limbs.
"Please explain to me exactly how they wouldn't die from an asteroid being dropped on them!"
Pasha raised her hand. "I thought we were going glass it."
Another delegate raised her voice. "What? We all agreed on an old-fashioned invasion!"
Then crowd quickly devolved into chaos and argument.
"We were gonna virus-bomb it!"
"Throw it into their sun! Duh!"
"You're all idiots! We banished them there in the first place so it would kill them!"
"No we didn't!"
"Yes we did!"
Pasha had enough and screamed. "Enough!"
The assembled aliens silence themselves and turned to the serene delegate.
"We'll just do a combo of all those things, huh? Besides, they're still in the stone age, they won't be able to stop us anyway."
"That is unlikely," the AI said.
"Why?"
"Turn around."
Pasha complied and whipped back only to see a significantly different Earth. Much of its greenery had shrunk, and countless points of light hovered around the planet in a pale white shimmer.
"That's...impossible!" Pasha cried, "We had our backs turned for literally two minutes!"
"This complicates things..." Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv mumbled, but then his eyes brightened and his snapped one of his claws. "I got it! We'll drop two asteroids on them!"
Pasha pinched her brow and spoke. "No! Look. I know a few cosmic horrors and renegade AIs that owe me some favors. I'll call them and we'll get this all sorted out."
"Also will not work," the AI replied.
Before Pasha could ask why, live feeds were brought up from around the galaxy.
The Iron Cloud's computational matrix was cold and unknowing, its drones lying still in the cold darkness of space.
The Bio-Horde was black and crisp, its brain spilled over the continents of Mars.
The Seven Horrors were gone, only bits of their corrupt flesh floating at the edges of the galaxy.
And none could find the words to describe what had happened to The Lurking One.
Pasha's mouth was agape. "H-how?!"
The AI responded by zooming in one of the Iron Cloud's city-sized drones to show a small group of humans dancing on it, shooting guns in the air and making generally lewd gestures.
"While you were all arguing," the AI said, "the humans have been having fun."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv threw his limbs up. "That's it," he stated, "AI, order the fleets to begin cleansing of the humans."
The AI replied. "Of course. I will direct the first and second fleets to the nearest staging areas and I will also sniff myself because I am a butt and I love smelling farts."
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv's segmented jaw dropped. "...Buh?"
One of the navigators raised his voice. "Sir! The AI's been hacked by the humans! They turned all the AI's data files into pictures of skulls!"
At that moment, a small furry alien made its way into the center of the meeting room. Carrying a large staff and covered with tribal paint, its squeaky voice almost too much to stand.
"I warned you all!" it spat while circling in place, pointing an accusing finger at the assembled crowd, "But none of you listened! You cannot kill them! You can only plead for your lives! None are safe from The Violent Ones!"
"The what?" Pasha blurted.
"His species worships the humans. That's what they call them." Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv answered.
"Fool!" another squeaky voice shouted at the opposite side of the room. An equally small and adorable alien appeared, wearing garments similar to the first. "The Ascended shall bring about an era of galactic peace! You spread heresy!"
The two small rodent-like aliens ran into each other and began to tussle, each screaming litanies and curses at one another. Every few seconds, another alien would join the brawl, hoping to appease The Gods or The High or The Warlords or whatever other colorful names they associated with the humans.
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv turned away from the madness and looked out the window to see Earth had changed again. The small shoal of ships around the planet had become a near-blanket, and Luna's dark side showed the crisscross of massive settlement as well.
He turned back. Everyone was wearing human clothes, blue jeans, and several humans were now in the room and shooting their machine guns around randomly. And above it all, horrible human music whined over the loudspeakers.
Pasha lowered her oversized sunglasses. "Hey, man, these humans are pretty cool. Their culture is like, infectious, you know?"
Kali'tq'qt'sdf'xv gasped, then looked down. He was wearing blue jeans.
In a panic, he pushed himself away from the council and into the control room, where all the technicians were also wearing blue jeans. He looked up. Blue jeans grafted into the bulkhead. Back down, he was now wearing a blue jean jacket.
With no other choice, he slammed the airlock release button and in an instant was vented out into space. But instead of being greeted by the welcoming embrace of cold death, he saw only a patchy blue wall.
He opened his mouth to scream. There was no air, no nothing.
Only blue jeans.
>эта БОЛЬ омежного уродца
Резать вдоль.
Always has humanity been on the front lines of war. Not with their soldiers, nor armadas. Humanity had long ago decided that they would only wage defensive wars, they would only commit troops to conflicts that were righteous in nature. They never conquered, they refused to join in expansionist wars. But on every front line, in every army, humans were always there.
It began when the human organization known as the Red Cross met the intergalactic agency called Hands for Hearts. They were found most often in the slums of megalopolises, the derelict space stations, serving the poor. When Mt. Rainier on the continent of North America finally erupted, the devastation wrecked on Sol-3 was incredible. Three billion humans died in a matter of days. Even counting every colony and every human traveling outside of the United Human Confederacy, humanity lost a tenth of their population. The Red Cross, and its sister organizations the Red Crescent, Red Crystal, and Red Lotus, could not together handle a fraction of the catastrophe.
When Hands for Hearts dropped out of FTL above the skies of Earth, they appeared in numbers so vast the humans’ scanners glowed to the point that one tech nearly went blind. The UHC military went to Defence Condition Omega, nearly firing on the organization. Luckily, a human that had been volunteering for the organization was able to get to a communications center to ease the situation.
Then they landed.
They brought atmospheric scrubbers to prevent an ash winter, firefighting vessels that could drop millions of gallons of water at a time to extinguish forest fires, housing units that could be emplaced in minutes with the capacity to hold hundreds of families, agricultural equipment that tilled acres upon acres of land a day to reestablish sustenance production, cloning systems to reestablish both domestic livestock and wild fauna. They carried the capacity to essentially re-terraform an entire continent.
It all came without cost, without expectation of recompense, without any strings attached. Millions of scientists, engineers, technicians, and workers volunteered four Earth months of their lives for a species that was not their own, to rebuild an ecosystem and a peoples on a planet that was not within their realms, all funded by donations, the wages of the labors of a hundred different species and a trillion different souls who could have used those credits for their own luxury.
Humanity was grateful. The entire species, which had not conducted a single major operation of any sort on an interstellar scale, came together with a singular focus: repaying a debt that none ever asked to be repaid.
It took three years for humanity to recover, far less time than any human had expected when the news broke of the Rainier eruption. By the end of the fourth year, the Io shipyard had launched the new Tabib-class carrier-support ship, the UHS Hippocrates. It came armed not with rail guns or missile pods or energy weapons but with a fleet of Vrach-class landing ships equipped with a full medical staff and enough rooms to hold a hundred patients as they recuperate. Within seven months, a half dozen more were patrolling the human sector, landing in distant colonies to provide medical assistance, improve the health of the residents, and overall healing the colonists before taking off and flying to the next colony.
Then the war started. Two members of the Imperium, the coalition of nearly forty percent of the many species of the Milky Way, began a territorial dispute that quickly turned violent. Worlds were attacked, cities razed, continents burned. As soon as the military that conducted left, a human fleet dropped out of FTL.
At first the residents of Choktar thought the military fleet had returned to finish the devastation. Then, they saw the markings. The first ship, Borzuya, landed near the rubble that was one the largest city in the planet’s western hemisphere. It was gargantuan, fully four miles long, larger than most species’ capital ships and carriers. On her hull showed a massive white field, centered in which was a red crescent moon. From within came hundreds of vessels of various types: half a dozen hospital-sized recovery wards with their own flight capabilities, dozens of air ambulances, scores of emergency medical landing teams. The sheer scope of the one craft put most militaries to shame, and the humans landed nearly thirty in a single day. In fourteen hours, a quarter of the surviving population had at least spoken to a medic or nurse or doctor. They spent days upon end reattaching lost limbs, sewing plasma wounds shut, reconnecting torn ligaments, performing more medical treatments than can be counted. Their doctors were more fluent in xenobiology than most other species were in their own native bodies. When all was complete three weeks later, the population was twice as large as would have been expected thanks to the Interstellar Red Cross Society.
The most revealing thing about humanity happened when the UHS Memorial landed, carrying digging teams, priests of every human religion, and coffins. So many coffins. They immediately found religious representatives from the planet and arranged funerary rights for every lost soul. The humans moved mountains upon mountains of rubble, finding every body, limb, hair, every bit of the people who had died during the attack. They had to dig mass graves the size of canyons just to bury the dead, they numbered so many. And they watched. They watched as High Priest To’urn sang the Song of Mourning in front of the memorial grave marker, and they wept. They wept in a way that no other could. They wept not from sympathy, nor empathy. They wept from memory. They had felt the loss that the Choktari were feeling now, of the knowledge that loved ones were gone forever, of the lonely beds and the empty cradles. Of schools abandoned because there were no teachers to teach and no students to learn. Of the derelict cities because there were no residents to inhabit them.
By the time Hands for Hearts had dropped in, all that was left was the economic rebuilding. The bodies were healed, but more importantly, the souls were healed. Humanity left the Choktari to let Hands for Hearts do their work. Humanity had more work to do.
The war continued for months. The humans pushed closer and closer to the front lines, evacuating civilians, treating wounds, anything they could do to alleviate the pains. Eventually they began receiving the wounded soldiers from the armies, and humanity did what they do best. They healed them. They sent teams directly to the combat units, medics and priests with scant more than band-aids and bibles to face the horrors of war. They healed, and sometimes, they died, caught in the crossfire of armies. Humans appeared on every front line, healing both armies’ soldiers without question, without complaint. They were sentients, and all sentients had a right to live. They patched up those they could, evacuated the rest. They became a staple of every army. To have a human medic near you was to know in your heart that you would see your family again.
That is how humanity repaid the debt no one asked them to. That is how the humans stopped needing any military force outside of to police their own people and stop piracy. The humans never needed any military, because they had everyone else’s. The sole time humanity was attacked, a thousand ships from nearly a hundred species appeared and obliterated the offenders. It was not out of any need to remain in the humans favor, nor fear that the humans may recall their medical support. It was because the humans had earned their place among the stars.
Now, there in one title that is held above all others in the UHC. When a human walks in bearing a "Sestra" tab on their sleeves, generals stand and salute. They are welcome in any space, given authorization to land on any planet. They are our healers, our nurses and doctors and combat medics and hospice caretakers. They devote their lives to serving others.
They bleed so others don't have to.
It began when the human organization known as the Red Cross met the intergalactic agency called Hands for Hearts. They were found most often in the slums of megalopolises, the derelict space stations, serving the poor. When Mt. Rainier on the continent of North America finally erupted, the devastation wrecked on Sol-3 was incredible. Three billion humans died in a matter of days. Even counting every colony and every human traveling outside of the United Human Confederacy, humanity lost a tenth of their population. The Red Cross, and its sister organizations the Red Crescent, Red Crystal, and Red Lotus, could not together handle a fraction of the catastrophe.
When Hands for Hearts dropped out of FTL above the skies of Earth, they appeared in numbers so vast the humans’ scanners glowed to the point that one tech nearly went blind. The UHC military went to Defence Condition Omega, nearly firing on the organization. Luckily, a human that had been volunteering for the organization was able to get to a communications center to ease the situation.
Then they landed.
They brought atmospheric scrubbers to prevent an ash winter, firefighting vessels that could drop millions of gallons of water at a time to extinguish forest fires, housing units that could be emplaced in minutes with the capacity to hold hundreds of families, agricultural equipment that tilled acres upon acres of land a day to reestablish sustenance production, cloning systems to reestablish both domestic livestock and wild fauna. They carried the capacity to essentially re-terraform an entire continent.
It all came without cost, without expectation of recompense, without any strings attached. Millions of scientists, engineers, technicians, and workers volunteered four Earth months of their lives for a species that was not their own, to rebuild an ecosystem and a peoples on a planet that was not within their realms, all funded by donations, the wages of the labors of a hundred different species and a trillion different souls who could have used those credits for their own luxury.
Humanity was grateful. The entire species, which had not conducted a single major operation of any sort on an interstellar scale, came together with a singular focus: repaying a debt that none ever asked to be repaid.
It took three years for humanity to recover, far less time than any human had expected when the news broke of the Rainier eruption. By the end of the fourth year, the Io shipyard had launched the new Tabib-class carrier-support ship, the UHS Hippocrates. It came armed not with rail guns or missile pods or energy weapons but with a fleet of Vrach-class landing ships equipped with a full medical staff and enough rooms to hold a hundred patients as they recuperate. Within seven months, a half dozen more were patrolling the human sector, landing in distant colonies to provide medical assistance, improve the health of the residents, and overall healing the colonists before taking off and flying to the next colony.
Then the war started. Two members of the Imperium, the coalition of nearly forty percent of the many species of the Milky Way, began a territorial dispute that quickly turned violent. Worlds were attacked, cities razed, continents burned. As soon as the military that conducted left, a human fleet dropped out of FTL.
At first the residents of Choktar thought the military fleet had returned to finish the devastation. Then, they saw the markings. The first ship, Borzuya, landed near the rubble that was one the largest city in the planet’s western hemisphere. It was gargantuan, fully four miles long, larger than most species’ capital ships and carriers. On her hull showed a massive white field, centered in which was a red crescent moon. From within came hundreds of vessels of various types: half a dozen hospital-sized recovery wards with their own flight capabilities, dozens of air ambulances, scores of emergency medical landing teams. The sheer scope of the one craft put most militaries to shame, and the humans landed nearly thirty in a single day. In fourteen hours, a quarter of the surviving population had at least spoken to a medic or nurse or doctor. They spent days upon end reattaching lost limbs, sewing plasma wounds shut, reconnecting torn ligaments, performing more medical treatments than can be counted. Their doctors were more fluent in xenobiology than most other species were in their own native bodies. When all was complete three weeks later, the population was twice as large as would have been expected thanks to the Interstellar Red Cross Society.
The most revealing thing about humanity happened when the UHS Memorial landed, carrying digging teams, priests of every human religion, and coffins. So many coffins. They immediately found religious representatives from the planet and arranged funerary rights for every lost soul. The humans moved mountains upon mountains of rubble, finding every body, limb, hair, every bit of the people who had died during the attack. They had to dig mass graves the size of canyons just to bury the dead, they numbered so many. And they watched. They watched as High Priest To’urn sang the Song of Mourning in front of the memorial grave marker, and they wept. They wept in a way that no other could. They wept not from sympathy, nor empathy. They wept from memory. They had felt the loss that the Choktari were feeling now, of the knowledge that loved ones were gone forever, of the lonely beds and the empty cradles. Of schools abandoned because there were no teachers to teach and no students to learn. Of the derelict cities because there were no residents to inhabit them.
By the time Hands for Hearts had dropped in, all that was left was the economic rebuilding. The bodies were healed, but more importantly, the souls were healed. Humanity left the Choktari to let Hands for Hearts do their work. Humanity had more work to do.
The war continued for months. The humans pushed closer and closer to the front lines, evacuating civilians, treating wounds, anything they could do to alleviate the pains. Eventually they began receiving the wounded soldiers from the armies, and humanity did what they do best. They healed them. They sent teams directly to the combat units, medics and priests with scant more than band-aids and bibles to face the horrors of war. They healed, and sometimes, they died, caught in the crossfire of armies. Humans appeared on every front line, healing both armies’ soldiers without question, without complaint. They were sentients, and all sentients had a right to live. They patched up those they could, evacuated the rest. They became a staple of every army. To have a human medic near you was to know in your heart that you would see your family again.
That is how humanity repaid the debt no one asked them to. That is how the humans stopped needing any military force outside of to police their own people and stop piracy. The humans never needed any military, because they had everyone else’s. The sole time humanity was attacked, a thousand ships from nearly a hundred species appeared and obliterated the offenders. It was not out of any need to remain in the humans favor, nor fear that the humans may recall their medical support. It was because the humans had earned their place among the stars.
Now, there in one title that is held above all others in the UHC. When a human walks in bearing a "Sestra" tab on their sleeves, generals stand and salute. They are welcome in any space, given authorization to land on any planet. They are our healers, our nurses and doctors and combat medics and hospice caretakers. They devote their lives to serving others.
They bleed so others don't have to.
>намекает что иномиряне не могут быть быдлом
Бамп, своеобразным буем землян.
Фильм был бы годнее если бы хуманы заовнили синежепых индейцев. Никто всё равно не купился на вертолеты которые ваншотались копьями. Гребаые хипари со своим черезжепным мессаджем.
не смотря на то что я тебя дваждую, вот прямо здесь
>Гребаые хипари со своим черезжепным мессаджем.
Тебя не смущают летающие горы? Почему тебя смущают только стержни из обедненного урана с наконечниками с закапсулированным антивеществом?
>не смущают летающие горы
Это пиздец ещё тот, да. Но тут они могут объяснить всё анобтаниумом который , видимо, заставляет горы летать.
>смущают стержни
Были бы это стержни, нужны ещё джоули что бы эти стержни толкать. Я фанат третей цывы и у меня острая боль в корме от пикрелейтеда. Тут сам кемерон про это кино ещё снял, обидно.
Основная часть грёбаных хипарей там была на Земляшке (как и ИРЛ, лол), из-за которой у корпорации не вооружение, а моча какая-то. Скорпионы, ЕМНИП - перепиленные ударные дроны, Валькирия, которую придурок Кворич не додумался использовать на манер бреющего или вообще стратобомбовоза со стабилизатором для бомбы из запчастей для вертопланов - вообще шаттл, АМП - погрузчики с пушками (хоть кабину закрыли, и то прогресс от машинки Рипли) и только Дракон - нормальная боевая единица. Я это к тому, что корпораты, даже в таких дерьмовых условиях, могли бы победить, если бы полковничка вдруг не пробило на Вьетнам с одновременной амнезией насчёт нормальных бомбовозов.
Так у него не бомба, а бочки со взрывчаткой которые надо кидать сверху.
>хоть кабину закрыли, и то прогресс от машинки Рипли
Ядовитая атмосфера, видимо решили что пилотам будет неуютно целый день в противогазе.
>если бы полковничка вдруг не пробило на Вьетнам
Если бы не внезапный налет туч местной живности и одного клоуна с плотармором.
>ваншотались копьями
Так это же фанера, изолента и стекло.
ну эти летающие горы могут быть намеком что это не простые индейцы, и не смотря на очевидное их движение ближе к природе, и их суперкомп.
Такто я тоже бы ввязался в бойню с любой биологической цивилизацией, не рассматривая их как противников имеющих хоть малейшие шансы на победу, не зависимо от того есть они у них в действительности или нет. Особенно в ситуации когда они ограничились планетарным развитием, а у меня есть космолеты, дроны, пушки, точно выверенно воходящие в атмосферу планеты астероиды.
но ебаный месседж, что ты хочешь, автор так хотел, может мама у него индеец был.
Но в тоже время эта система симбиотов вполне забавна, пожалуй это единственно годное в фильме, все остальное антураж к этому, и как бы небольшой стресстест системе.
>Но в тоже время эта система симбиотов вполне забавна, пожалуй это единственно годное в фильме
Мне бы ещё норм зашли синие индейцы, опускающие хуманов суровым превозмоганием, мудрочтью поколений и прочей смекалочкой.
Так ведь нихуя. Краеугольный камень - всеобщая гармония и единство природы. Эти ебучие штекеры блять. Каждая микробина с каждой зверушкой дружится и с каждым цветком сосётся, даже когда жрёт его - делает это строго из глубокого уважения нахуй.
Любой Настоящий Индеец на это хиппиговно постеснялся бы даже харкнуть, ибо получше других знает что закон природной гармонии звучит как "жри всё пока не сожрали тебя". Отгрызай головы детёнышами, вытягивай соки из трупов, прорастай в глазах и ушах животин, соси кровь и проедай древесину, засирай всё вокруг ядами и разравый на куски братьев за право на самку - делай что угодно, только выживай и размножайся.
Этих бы хиппарей да на полгода в Амазонию, или в алтайские ебеня. Без компасов, шоколадных батончиков, мази от гнуса и прочих высеров утратившего свои корни человечества. Быстро бы снизошло, что по сравнению с Матушкой-природой жадные до ресурсов корпорации - просто квинтессенция доброты, заботы и понимания.
>закон природной гармонии звучит как "жри всё пока не сожрали тебя"
Этот бледнолицый обосрался, сестра, везите его в душевую.
>Эти ебучие штекеры блять. Каждая микробина с каждой зверушкой дружится и с каждым цветком сосётся, даже когда жрёт его - делает это строго из глубокого уважения нахуй.
нуже это и есть цимес, в лучших традициях азимовской геи.
Тебя ввело в заблуждение что они разговаривают и типо чемто там задумываются, они не являются самостоятельными организмами, грубо говоря, как щупальца у осминога, этого которого солят и они там вверх вниз гнуться.
А то что планетарный организм, с нераскрытыми по сути возможностями, нагнул кучку неорганизованных землян-бактерий. Единственная причина почему их не нагнули раньше десятком способов, это то что организм хотел новых симбиотов, потому что синекожие туповыты и сам организм подзастрял в своем развитии, и он получил нового симбиота, так сказать свежая кровь мысли, остальные не нужны. Не удивлюсь, если полковничек был спровоцирован специально, с вполне предсказуемыми итогами разборок, все высосано и оторвано как надо.
>Если бы не внезапный налет туч местной живности и одного клоуна с плотармором.
Про плотармор спорить не буду, но бомбошаттлу с эскортом всё же следовало лететь повыше. В идеале, конечно, наземный десант остаётся держать оборону у "Адских Врат", а ударная группа - бомбошаттл с адским паком взрывчатки (в оригинале, ЕМНИП, там были именно брикеты в здоровенных пачках, а не бочки) с прикрученным хвостом от "Скорпиона" в качестве стабилизатора, "Дракон" как центр контроля операции и эскортный ганшип и все доступные "Скорпионы"в качестве авиаподдержки, причём вся эта аэрофлотилия тащится на максимальной доступной высоте. К бомбе же приделан альтиметр от "Самсона" или от чего не жалко, который настроен на подачу сигнала по достижению определённой высоты, а провода от него выведены на детонаторы бомбы. И тогда битва будет выглядеть примерно так - аэрофлот Кворича и Ко идёт на 9 километрах высоты (текущий рекорд для вертолётов в висении - 9150, в будущем наверняка превзойдут), по достижению цели "Валькирия" тормозится, выравнивается и сбрасывает бомбу, после чего флот, в зависимости от наблюдаемой внизу ситуации, либо отступает за подкреплениями и новой бомбой для бомбошаттла, либо снижается и закрепляет успех ракетными атаками (кроме "Валькирии", которая в любом случае поплетётся на базу) и только после этого вызывает "Самсоны" с пехтурой, а "Дракон", соответственно, десантирует АМП.
>нуже это и есть цимес, в лучших традициях азимовской геи.
Терпеть не можу Азимовскую Гею. Сука весь цикл запорол нахуй. Посмотрел бы я, как Галаксия перенесла бы хоть один военный конфликт.
>организм хотел новых симбиотов
Но ГГ же отказался от прекрасной белокожей тушки в пользу синежого анимуговна.
>Терпеть не можу Азимовскую Гею.
аа ну тогда да, печалька)
>организм хотел новых симбиотов
>Но ГГ же отказался от прекрасной белокожей тушки в пользу синежого анимуговна.
мозги то ему кто пересаживал, а ручки то вот они, так сказать. Также, ГГ не поменял образ мыслей (если работа была качественно проделана), и соответственно является носителем как знаний так и образа мышления.
Более того тела этих остальных тоже пойдут не сразу в компост.
суровый мир нагебателей суров.
>на Пандору вторгается Империум
А есть что-нибудь приличное на эту тему? Ну или хотя бы с большим количеством кровькишков синих уёбков.
Помню был кроссовер-фанфик про контакт с синими небольшого судёнышка Империума. Разумеется гринписом никто страдать не стал, контакт@зафейлен и пошла полноценная войнушка силами экипажа и десантуры, перестрелочки@лазиры. Но меня довольно быстро заебало, даже как как конченого вахаёба.
For the longest time, we humans believed we were God’s children.
Our belief that an omnipotent entity was there to guide and nurture our growth fueled us. Religions brought hope to our people and joy into our lives. We credited our development and prosperity to our God. The Last Holy War brought the three major religions together under a single cause to praise their Lord. What began as strife evolved into a beautiful union of peace. Having put our differences aside, we were able to direct our focus to our future, to the stars. We claimed worlds under God’s name, and named them after His most blessed of prophets.
It wasn’t long until we encountered the Na’phi in Cluster rs21355135. We, having been taught in our religion to be kind and forgiving, extended a helpful hand; we wanted both races to grow together under a mutually beneficial alliance. However, instead of forging a friendship with them as we had hoped, the Na’phi turned their sword against us. We were confused. Why would they fight us? We had communicated to them our willingness for a peaceful union. Our language experts and translators made sure that there was no miscommunication.
It was at this time that one of the surviving scout probes returned to us carrying both joyful and ominous news. Through what the Na’phi had said into the communication module, we confirmed the existence of God, and that He had been aiding the Na’phi through their growth. We were overjoyed. Finally, the naysayers could be silenced. However, before the leaders of the world could celebrate their discovery and the decisive confirmation of their faith, the probe released another message.
God was not on our side.
Our belief that an omnipotent entity was there to guide and nurture our growth fueled us. Religions brought hope to our people and joy into our lives. We credited our development and prosperity to our God. The Last Holy War brought the three major religions together under a single cause to praise their Lord. What began as strife evolved into a beautiful union of peace. Having put our differences aside, we were able to direct our focus to our future, to the stars. We claimed worlds under God’s name, and named them after His most blessed of prophets.
It wasn’t long until we encountered the Na’phi in Cluster rs21355135. We, having been taught in our religion to be kind and forgiving, extended a helpful hand; we wanted both races to grow together under a mutually beneficial alliance. However, instead of forging a friendship with them as we had hoped, the Na’phi turned their sword against us. We were confused. Why would they fight us? We had communicated to them our willingness for a peaceful union. Our language experts and translators made sure that there was no miscommunication.
It was at this time that one of the surviving scout probes returned to us carrying both joyful and ominous news. Through what the Na’phi had said into the communication module, we confirmed the existence of God, and that He had been aiding the Na’phi through their growth. We were overjoyed. Finally, the naysayers could be silenced. However, before the leaders of the world could celebrate their discovery and the decisive confirmation of their faith, the probe released another message.
God was not on our side.
Almost immediately, the leaders fell silent. They dropped their glasses of wine on the carpeted floor of the meeting room with a resounding shatter. Their eyes lost their brilliance, and their mouths lost their smiles. As if to push them over the edge, the probe continued its message. We were the bastard children of god. We were never meant to succeed. God thrust us on a death world with thousands of our natural predators and weather that was meant to destroy our homes. We were infused at birth with self-destructive desires and sins, and told to hate and battle with others of our species for the rest of our short lives. We were designed to be vulnerable to thousands of lethal diseases. We were purposefully given fragile bodies and no means of defending them. Even if we were to somehow survive the horrors thrown at us, god had made it so that our bodies would eventually betray us and starve us internally. We were made to be dependent on constant nourishment, and thus struggle to keep ourselves alive. Our intelligence, the one aspect of ourselves that we took immense pride in, was only there so that we could fully understand and feel the despair that would inevitably consume us. We were a cruel joke played by our god, forsaken and left to shrivel up on our abandoned planet.
To the Na’phi, a race that was nurtured in the loving care of god, we were demons, beings that were designated by god to be destroyed. And so, they declared war on us, as god had intended them to. To them, we were the antagonists of a holy story, and they were the rightful children of god. Their goal was to make sure of our demise with the power of their divine lord.
Once we realized the extent of what was happening, we began to understand that the being we loved and respected so much was never who we thought he was. And so, we rekindled our old, ugly selves. We quickly reverted to being the hateful, belligerent race we once were. Our production plants became arms manufacturing factories. Our people dropped our crosses and bibles and picked up rifles. We redirected our resources from building new homes to claim for our lord to building new armored vehicles to fight him. Places of worship became barracks for our newfound troops. If they think of us as demons, we thought, we might as well fill the role properly.
After twenty years of war, our cannons glassed the Na’phi homeworld. The IASA admirals didn’t even bat an eye as they watched billions of sentient beings lose their lives. They didn’t feel the need to, as god had done enough to us to justify this utter destruction. For twenty long years, epidemics, natural disasters, and other forces of nature ravaged our people with more severity than ever before. Apparently, god was really giving it his all to make sure we lost the war against his children. We scoffed at his pitiful efforts as our reinforced-steel bulwarks shrugged off whatever storm he threw at us, and our medical technology eradicated any disease that he unleashed upon us. He even attempted to discourage our leaders and demotivate them from the war effort, but we were simply too pissed off to be persuaded into cowardice. The countless blessings he granted the Na’phi meant nothing to our troops, who mercilessly murdered every single one of “those reptilian shits” they saw.
The Humans never had a God. We never needed a God.
Because we were our own Gods.
To the Na’phi, a race that was nurtured in the loving care of god, we were demons, beings that were designated by god to be destroyed. And so, they declared war on us, as god had intended them to. To them, we were the antagonists of a holy story, and they were the rightful children of god. Their goal was to make sure of our demise with the power of their divine lord.
Once we realized the extent of what was happening, we began to understand that the being we loved and respected so much was never who we thought he was. And so, we rekindled our old, ugly selves. We quickly reverted to being the hateful, belligerent race we once were. Our production plants became arms manufacturing factories. Our people dropped our crosses and bibles and picked up rifles. We redirected our resources from building new homes to claim for our lord to building new armored vehicles to fight him. Places of worship became barracks for our newfound troops. If they think of us as demons, we thought, we might as well fill the role properly.
After twenty years of war, our cannons glassed the Na’phi homeworld. The IASA admirals didn’t even bat an eye as they watched billions of sentient beings lose their lives. They didn’t feel the need to, as god had done enough to us to justify this utter destruction. For twenty long years, epidemics, natural disasters, and other forces of nature ravaged our people with more severity than ever before. Apparently, god was really giving it his all to make sure we lost the war against his children. We scoffed at his pitiful efforts as our reinforced-steel bulwarks shrugged off whatever storm he threw at us, and our medical technology eradicated any disease that he unleashed upon us. He even attempted to discourage our leaders and demotivate them from the war effort, but we were simply too pissed off to be persuaded into cowardice. The countless blessings he granted the Na’phi meant nothing to our troops, who mercilessly murdered every single one of “those reptilian shits” they saw.
The Humans never had a God. We never needed a God.
Because we were our own Gods.
Научись ссылки постить, а не копипастить, тупой уёбок
Хуита какая.
Продолжай.
Непроебамп вроде-как-неканоническим "Спасением Авнари". За качество прошу извинить, делалось на скорую руку.
Как ты цвет поменял ?
Джек Макдевит - Омега
Ну там наоборот же, дюдей все чмырят.
Больше подойдёт серия того же автора про мастер оф орион, где человеки пиздились со всеми остальными расами.
Есть где эти истории в переводе почитать? Не могу в ангельский.
Неужели ещё не было ?
В общем так - когда Человек железной поступью покорял Галактику, эльдары копошились в навозе. А теперь они утверждают обратное. Так и запишем.
Перевод походу загнулся.
Ну чё, братан, ты перевёл всё-таки или нет? Я тупой я не могу в английский, а пояитать хочется.
В треде появляется еще один переводчик.
Анон, если ты перевел хотя бы одну пикчу, или даже кусок, и тебе впадлу продолжать, то выложи сейчас, чтобы хоть труд не пропал, а я продолжу.
Анон, если ты перевел хотя бы одну пикчу, или даже кусок, и тебе впадлу продолжать, то выложи сейчас, чтобы хоть труд не пропал, а я продолжу.
Вот вам первый кусок Вуали короч
Когда человечество устремилось в космос, мы не подозревали, что нас ждет. Первую обитаемую планету мы нашли всего в тридцати световых годах, ближе, чем ожидалось. Но был подвох.
Все были мертвы.
Так выглядела вся планета – совершенно нормальный мир, без каких-либо видимых изъянов, но тем не менее, самоубийство было самым распространенной причиной смерти местных обитателей-рептилоидов. Неизвестно, почему, но они, похоже, занимались этим уже долгое время. Исследования показали, что их вид двигался к индустриальной эпохе в десять раз медленнее нас, и дальше этого они ушли не очень далеко.
Спустя время, мы обнаружили, что это не единичный случай. Встреченные нами инопланетные виды убивали друг друга, или сами себя по разным причинам. Некоторые вымерли так рано, что оставили после себя только несколько монументов, некоторые основали межзвездные империи, распространившиеся на дюжину систем. Но все они вымерли до последнего ребенка.
Так мы путешествовали меж звезд, колонизируя затерянные миры. Мы изучали живых существ на множестве планет, но не нашли ни одного разумного вида. Со временем, были исследованы технологии тех из ушедших рас, которые опередили нас в развитии, и мы сделали ряд научных открытий, до которых не дошли самостоятельно. Когда такое случалось, научное сообщество неизменно хлопало себя по лбу из-за простоты упущенных нами идей и концепций.
__________
Только однажды мы нашли выживших разумных существ. На планете с гравитацией в 3/4 земной, покрытой джунглями, обитала раса неких инсектоидов-падальщиков. Они едва преодолели Каменный век, и земледелие только зарождалось.
Оценив обстановку, мы решили не выходить на контакт. Они были слишком жестокими, и убивали друг друга по самым незначительным причинам. Они также часто прибегали к самоубийству, часто даже без повода. Это была раса безумцев. Длительные наблюдения показали, что после вылупления из яйца индивид медленно, но верно сходил с ума. В результате, никто так и не достигал старости. Единственная причина, по которой они выжили, было сочетание высокой рождаемости, быстрой смены поколений, и способности новорожденных защищать себя уже спустя несколько часов после появления на свет. Все остальные разумные расы не могли сопротивляться безумию, которое полностью их полностью уничтожало.
Человечество двигалось вперед и расширялось еще семьсот лет. За это время мы так и не нашли выживших разумных существ, и не узнали, почему мы остались не затронуты поразившим остальных недугом. Многие выдвигали теории, но ни одна не была лучше другой. Мы выбрались далеко от Земли, и все этнические, религиозные и культурные различия потеряли значимость. Появился Альянс Объединенной Терры, который теперь управлял более чем 87% человеческих колоний с Земли. Были и колонии-отщепенцы, и с вступлением человечества в космическую эпоху для пиратства и контрабанды наступил новый рассвет. Человечество справлялось со всем, как и прежде.
__________
Затем, наступил момент, навсегда изменивший ход нашей истории. Дредноут «Превосходный», длиной около семи миль, был самым передовым судном, которое мы когда-либо строили. Его внутренние системы обновлялись даже в ходе постройки корабля, и в конечном итоге, он стал настоящим городом в космосе. «Превосходный» отправился исследовать новый мир, наблюдения которого выявили следы вышедшей в космос цивилизации. Эта планета была дальше других исследованных, но ожидалось, что мы найдем еще один мертвый мир, что там можно было бы раздобыть полезные материалы среди брошенных орбитальных сооружений.
Вместо этого мы обнаружили живых разумных существ, в полном порядке осваивающих космическое пространство вокруг колонизированного каменистого мирка. На орбите находились десятки кораблей, вместе со станцией обслуживания. Их техника была намного примитивнее нашей, и самый большой аппарат достигал, пожалуй, размеров футбольного поля. Судя по повреждениям некоторых кораблей, и брошенному остову иной конструкции в районе планеты, они не так давно участвовали в битве.
__________
Первый контакт, однако, был неудачен. Не сразу мы поняли, что пошло не так. Когда над расой, называемой Кондар, появился наш корабль, возможно, самый большой из всех, которые им встречались, они ударились в панику. Командующий их флотом постарался избежать катастрофы, и запретил открывать огонь. Наладить связь не удалось с обеих сторон – мы уже давно не применяли подходящее оборудование, и не тренировали экипажи на случай первого контакта. Усугубил ситуацию и тот факт, что мы слишком опережали их технически, и не соответствующие нашему уровню системы связи Кондаров приняли наши приветствия в настолько искаженном виде, что они звучали зловеще и чуждо даже по широким стандартам развитой галактики.
Когда они получили полные шумов сообщения, на одном из их кораблей кто-то запаниковал, и выстрелил по «Превосходному», на котором в знак доверия были отключены силовые щиты. Выстрел смог пробить обшивку, убив троих человек. Капитан «Превосходного» приказал снова поднять щиты, и был произведен предупредительный выстрел. К сожалению, Кондары не были знакомы с такой концепцией, и не стали выяснять, почему единственная наша атака прошла мимо.
Битва была короткой. «Превосходный» уничтожил все до единого корабли, чтобы обеспечить безопасную траекторию отлета. Иначе было нельзя, но это только усугубило репутацию, которую вскоре приобрели люди.
Как выяснилось, около трех процентов территории в галактике покрывала так называемая «Вуаль Безумия». Все разумные виды в этом регионе космоса медленно сходили с ума. Короткие перелеты были безвредны, но задержаться дольше стоило необратимого повреждения рассудка. Все это время мы находились в середине космического Бермудского Треугольника, и только теперь достигли его границ. Когда Кондары обнаружили, что траектория нашего корабля исходила из Вуали и уходила туда же, тогда-то и разразилась паника. Новости о случившемся разлетелись между их колониями, а затем достигли и остальных цивилизаций.
После каждого пересказа история становилась все мрачнее, особенно после того, как она ушла дальше сухих отчетов военных. Все говорили об огромном черном корабле, пришедшем с той стороны Вуали, рассылающем сигналы на леденящем душу языке, распылившем десятки Кондарских кораблей без причины и снова исчезнувшем, как призрак. Человечество стало страшилкой, которая пугала всю вселенную.
__________
Похоже, что масштаб нашего правительства и технический уровень были несколько выше, чем у большинства рас галактики из-за отсутствия преград для развития внутри Вуали. Другие цивилизации, в свою очередь, развивались среди множества конкурентов, и самые большие их империи не превышали размера в тридцать звездных систем.
Нападения пиратских группировок землян еще больше укрепили нашу репутацию, и нам пришлось с этим мириться. Все попытки убедить новых соседей сесть за стол переговоров воспринимались ими как обман. Поэтому не оставалось ничего другого, кроме как играть выпавшую нам роль. Вскоре люди стали известны, как «злобные, но рассудительные» существа, и галактика стала бояться и уважать нас. Немногие из людей появлялись в инопланетных мирах вне устрашающей на вид силовой брони, и наши послы использовали синтезаторы голоса, придававшие им то самое зловещее звучание, известное всей галактике по первой нашей попытке выйти на связь.
В конечном итоге, все это сработало на нас. Вот уже годы спустя контакта инопланетяне так почти ничего и не узнали о людях, помимо полных преувеличений историй. Единственное, что они знали совершенно точно, это то, что мы можем жить за Вуалью. Выходит, мы с самого начала были немного безумцами. Думаю, тот факт, что мы ведем самый масштабный розыгрыш в галактике, только подтверждает это.
Когда человечество устремилось в космос, мы не подозревали, что нас ждет. Первую обитаемую планету мы нашли всего в тридцати световых годах, ближе, чем ожидалось. Но был подвох.
Все были мертвы.
Так выглядела вся планета – совершенно нормальный мир, без каких-либо видимых изъянов, но тем не менее, самоубийство было самым распространенной причиной смерти местных обитателей-рептилоидов. Неизвестно, почему, но они, похоже, занимались этим уже долгое время. Исследования показали, что их вид двигался к индустриальной эпохе в десять раз медленнее нас, и дальше этого они ушли не очень далеко.
Спустя время, мы обнаружили, что это не единичный случай. Встреченные нами инопланетные виды убивали друг друга, или сами себя по разным причинам. Некоторые вымерли так рано, что оставили после себя только несколько монументов, некоторые основали межзвездные империи, распространившиеся на дюжину систем. Но все они вымерли до последнего ребенка.
Так мы путешествовали меж звезд, колонизируя затерянные миры. Мы изучали живых существ на множестве планет, но не нашли ни одного разумного вида. Со временем, были исследованы технологии тех из ушедших рас, которые опередили нас в развитии, и мы сделали ряд научных открытий, до которых не дошли самостоятельно. Когда такое случалось, научное сообщество неизменно хлопало себя по лбу из-за простоты упущенных нами идей и концепций.
__________
Только однажды мы нашли выживших разумных существ. На планете с гравитацией в 3/4 земной, покрытой джунглями, обитала раса неких инсектоидов-падальщиков. Они едва преодолели Каменный век, и земледелие только зарождалось.
Оценив обстановку, мы решили не выходить на контакт. Они были слишком жестокими, и убивали друг друга по самым незначительным причинам. Они также часто прибегали к самоубийству, часто даже без повода. Это была раса безумцев. Длительные наблюдения показали, что после вылупления из яйца индивид медленно, но верно сходил с ума. В результате, никто так и не достигал старости. Единственная причина, по которой они выжили, было сочетание высокой рождаемости, быстрой смены поколений, и способности новорожденных защищать себя уже спустя несколько часов после появления на свет. Все остальные разумные расы не могли сопротивляться безумию, которое полностью их полностью уничтожало.
Человечество двигалось вперед и расширялось еще семьсот лет. За это время мы так и не нашли выживших разумных существ, и не узнали, почему мы остались не затронуты поразившим остальных недугом. Многие выдвигали теории, но ни одна не была лучше другой. Мы выбрались далеко от Земли, и все этнические, религиозные и культурные различия потеряли значимость. Появился Альянс Объединенной Терры, который теперь управлял более чем 87% человеческих колоний с Земли. Были и колонии-отщепенцы, и с вступлением человечества в космическую эпоху для пиратства и контрабанды наступил новый рассвет. Человечество справлялось со всем, как и прежде.
__________
Затем, наступил момент, навсегда изменивший ход нашей истории. Дредноут «Превосходный», длиной около семи миль, был самым передовым судном, которое мы когда-либо строили. Его внутренние системы обновлялись даже в ходе постройки корабля, и в конечном итоге, он стал настоящим городом в космосе. «Превосходный» отправился исследовать новый мир, наблюдения которого выявили следы вышедшей в космос цивилизации. Эта планета была дальше других исследованных, но ожидалось, что мы найдем еще один мертвый мир, что там можно было бы раздобыть полезные материалы среди брошенных орбитальных сооружений.
Вместо этого мы обнаружили живых разумных существ, в полном порядке осваивающих космическое пространство вокруг колонизированного каменистого мирка. На орбите находились десятки кораблей, вместе со станцией обслуживания. Их техника была намного примитивнее нашей, и самый большой аппарат достигал, пожалуй, размеров футбольного поля. Судя по повреждениям некоторых кораблей, и брошенному остову иной конструкции в районе планеты, они не так давно участвовали в битве.
__________
Первый контакт, однако, был неудачен. Не сразу мы поняли, что пошло не так. Когда над расой, называемой Кондар, появился наш корабль, возможно, самый большой из всех, которые им встречались, они ударились в панику. Командующий их флотом постарался избежать катастрофы, и запретил открывать огонь. Наладить связь не удалось с обеих сторон – мы уже давно не применяли подходящее оборудование, и не тренировали экипажи на случай первого контакта. Усугубил ситуацию и тот факт, что мы слишком опережали их технически, и не соответствующие нашему уровню системы связи Кондаров приняли наши приветствия в настолько искаженном виде, что они звучали зловеще и чуждо даже по широким стандартам развитой галактики.
Когда они получили полные шумов сообщения, на одном из их кораблей кто-то запаниковал, и выстрелил по «Превосходному», на котором в знак доверия были отключены силовые щиты. Выстрел смог пробить обшивку, убив троих человек. Капитан «Превосходного» приказал снова поднять щиты, и был произведен предупредительный выстрел. К сожалению, Кондары не были знакомы с такой концепцией, и не стали выяснять, почему единственная наша атака прошла мимо.
Битва была короткой. «Превосходный» уничтожил все до единого корабли, чтобы обеспечить безопасную траекторию отлета. Иначе было нельзя, но это только усугубило репутацию, которую вскоре приобрели люди.
Как выяснилось, около трех процентов территории в галактике покрывала так называемая «Вуаль Безумия». Все разумные виды в этом регионе космоса медленно сходили с ума. Короткие перелеты были безвредны, но задержаться дольше стоило необратимого повреждения рассудка. Все это время мы находились в середине космического Бермудского Треугольника, и только теперь достигли его границ. Когда Кондары обнаружили, что траектория нашего корабля исходила из Вуали и уходила туда же, тогда-то и разразилась паника. Новости о случившемся разлетелись между их колониями, а затем достигли и остальных цивилизаций.
После каждого пересказа история становилась все мрачнее, особенно после того, как она ушла дальше сухих отчетов военных. Все говорили об огромном черном корабле, пришедшем с той стороны Вуали, рассылающем сигналы на леденящем душу языке, распылившем десятки Кондарских кораблей без причины и снова исчезнувшем, как призрак. Человечество стало страшилкой, которая пугала всю вселенную.
__________
Похоже, что масштаб нашего правительства и технический уровень были несколько выше, чем у большинства рас галактики из-за отсутствия преград для развития внутри Вуали. Другие цивилизации, в свою очередь, развивались среди множества конкурентов, и самые большие их империи не превышали размера в тридцать звездных систем.
Нападения пиратских группировок землян еще больше укрепили нашу репутацию, и нам пришлось с этим мириться. Все попытки убедить новых соседей сесть за стол переговоров воспринимались ими как обман. Поэтому не оставалось ничего другого, кроме как играть выпавшую нам роль. Вскоре люди стали известны, как «злобные, но рассудительные» существа, и галактика стала бояться и уважать нас. Немногие из людей появлялись в инопланетных мирах вне устрашающей на вид силовой брони, и наши послы использовали синтезаторы голоса, придававшие им то самое зловещее звучание, известное всей галактике по первой нашей попытке выйти на связь.
В конечном итоге, все это сработало на нас. Вот уже годы спустя контакта инопланетяне так почти ничего и не узнали о людях, помимо полных преувеличений историй. Единственное, что они знали совершенно точно, это то, что мы можем жить за Вуалью. Выходит, мы с самого начала были немного безумцами. Думаю, тот факт, что мы ведем самый масштабный розыгрыш в галактике, только подтверждает это.
(Гроулом) Годнота-то какая... Лепота... Добра тебе , переводчик! Пили ишшо!
Так глядишь всем двачом и переведем, году к 2030. Может лучше свой контент пилить?
Бля я обкончался
Когда следующая часть?
Годная/забавная идея, в духе Шекли
Ты охуенен, братан. Добра тебе.
Ты охуенен, братан. Добра тебе.
Охуенно
Ты охуенен ,добра.
Небольшая ИНТЕРЛЮДИЯ, оригинал тут
Вторая часть Вуали чет сложнее, а я приболел. Но все будет, аноны.
Хочешь послушать про людей? Вас что, в школе этому не учат? Ладно уж, расскажу вкратце.
Логично будет начать с Африки. Неплохое местечко, если ты не против 110 градусов температуры и ебаных тигров. Там-то и появились люди. Но задержались мы там ненадолго. Разбрелись по четырем углам Матушки-Земли еще до того, как придумали разговорную речь. Насколько я знаю, из-за этого мы и проебались с темпом развития. Выдумывали электричество на пять тысяч лет дольше, чем самая медленная ваша цивилизация.
К тому времени, как мы добрались до того, что все вы называете «объединением», информационного века, на нашем счету уже были войны, убившие пятьдесят с чем-то миллионов людей. Да больше, чем пятьдесят миллионов. И заметь, никакого космоса, мы убивали друг друга на земле, без ядерного оружия. Немного авиации, немного артиллерии, но всегда было место для взрывчатки и ручного огнестрела.
В отличие от всех остальных разумных видов, если, конечно, не считать этих долбанутых Соледринцев или Китксов – и не надо, потому что они, блядь, не разумные существа, и клянусь Богом, никогда их такими считать не буду – в отличие от всех, мы жили с этим пунктом про бессмысленное насилие вплоть до того, как выбрались в проклятый космос, да и после этого тоже. Космические войны, это совсем другое дело, уж поверь. В начале космической эры мы потеряли до черта народу из-за самых идиотских мелочей.
Ну а потом мы столкнулись с вашей компанией. Вы, конечно, здорово притормозили наше гордое шествие по Вселенной. У вас были технологии, пространства, ресурсы, и мы не могли сходу ввязаться в драку. Пойми меня правильно, я не говорю, что вы действительно что-то там планировали, но попробовал бы ты в то время поговорить с человеком на эту тему. Мы же друг другу не доверяли, с чего нам доверять какому-то здоровяку, у которого семь ног и хуй с крючком?
__________
Вот мы и объединились в лохматую конфедерацию и стали вести себя, как байкер на встрече выпускников, пока, наконец, не выклянчили себе войну. Да, нас смешали с говном, да, мы потеряли почти все, но и по сей день я утверждаю, что оно того стоило.
Почему? Ну, пораскинь ебучими тараканьими мозгами. Человечество, может, и превратилось в полнейший бардак, но нам же от этого только лучше. Сам посуди – никаких населенных центров, никаких столиц, городов и стран. Только бесконечный рубеж и куча свободного времени. Мы снова стали сраными кочевниками, подписываемся на любое необычное дельце для тех из вас, кого больше заботят оловянные игрушки, чем звездные карты. Для людей, которым никто не доверяет, всегда найдется работа на пару недель, после которых нас и след простыл. Сработало в свое время для казаков, отлично подходит и для нас.
Да мы же чертов клейстер для ваших цивилизаций. Когда от нее отваливаются куски, а это происходит постоянно, то тут как тут, заполним все трещины, станем посредниками, вооруженными до зубов и без капли преданности кому бы то ни было.
Да уж, вот это будет денек, правда, жучара? Давай допивай свою стопку, твои родители с ума сойдут, если не вернешься домой к 79.
Вторая часть Вуали чет сложнее, а я приболел. Но все будет, аноны.
Хочешь послушать про людей? Вас что, в школе этому не учат? Ладно уж, расскажу вкратце.
Логично будет начать с Африки. Неплохое местечко, если ты не против 110 градусов температуры и ебаных тигров. Там-то и появились люди. Но задержались мы там ненадолго. Разбрелись по четырем углам Матушки-Земли еще до того, как придумали разговорную речь. Насколько я знаю, из-за этого мы и проебались с темпом развития. Выдумывали электричество на пять тысяч лет дольше, чем самая медленная ваша цивилизация.
К тому времени, как мы добрались до того, что все вы называете «объединением», информационного века, на нашем счету уже были войны, убившие пятьдесят с чем-то миллионов людей. Да больше, чем пятьдесят миллионов. И заметь, никакого космоса, мы убивали друг друга на земле, без ядерного оружия. Немного авиации, немного артиллерии, но всегда было место для взрывчатки и ручного огнестрела.
В отличие от всех остальных разумных видов, если, конечно, не считать этих долбанутых Соледринцев или Китксов – и не надо, потому что они, блядь, не разумные существа, и клянусь Богом, никогда их такими считать не буду – в отличие от всех, мы жили с этим пунктом про бессмысленное насилие вплоть до того, как выбрались в проклятый космос, да и после этого тоже. Космические войны, это совсем другое дело, уж поверь. В начале космической эры мы потеряли до черта народу из-за самых идиотских мелочей.
Ну а потом мы столкнулись с вашей компанией. Вы, конечно, здорово притормозили наше гордое шествие по Вселенной. У вас были технологии, пространства, ресурсы, и мы не могли сходу ввязаться в драку. Пойми меня правильно, я не говорю, что вы действительно что-то там планировали, но попробовал бы ты в то время поговорить с человеком на эту тему. Мы же друг другу не доверяли, с чего нам доверять какому-то здоровяку, у которого семь ног и хуй с крючком?
__________
Вот мы и объединились в лохматую конфедерацию и стали вести себя, как байкер на встрече выпускников, пока, наконец, не выклянчили себе войну. Да, нас смешали с говном, да, мы потеряли почти все, но и по сей день я утверждаю, что оно того стоило.
Почему? Ну, пораскинь ебучими тараканьими мозгами. Человечество, может, и превратилось в полнейший бардак, но нам же от этого только лучше. Сам посуди – никаких населенных центров, никаких столиц, городов и стран. Только бесконечный рубеж и куча свободного времени. Мы снова стали сраными кочевниками, подписываемся на любое необычное дельце для тех из вас, кого больше заботят оловянные игрушки, чем звездные карты. Для людей, которым никто не доверяет, всегда найдется работа на пару недель, после которых нас и след простыл. Сработало в свое время для казаков, отлично подходит и для нас.
Да мы же чертов клейстер для ваших цивилизаций. Когда от нее отваливаются куски, а это происходит постоянно, то тут как тут, заполним все трещины, станем посредниками, вооруженными до зубов и без капли преданности кому бы то ни было.
Да уж, вот это будет денек, правда, жучара? Давай допивай свою стопку, твои родители с ума сойдут, если не вернешься домой к 79.
>Логично будет начать с Африки. Неплохое местечко, если ты не против 110 градусов температуры и ебаных тигров.
>ебаных тигров.
>в Африке
У меня лопнула барабанная перепонка от такого невежества.
Все на совести автора подвыпившего рассказчика, который зарабатывает на жизнь явно не знанием антропологии.
Там и количество ног у жуков нечетное, лол. So alien.
>Саблезубые кошки появились в раннем или среднем миоцене в Африке.
Ты ведь понимаешь, что не все кошки тигры, даже саблезубые?
Как же здорово %%а то у меня от всякой твердоты уже мозги скукожились.
На счет Вуали, сразу бросается в глаза БИЗУМИЕ не людей, а нелюдей, возверовавших в нелепую хуйню про демонических хуманов. Ясно же, что вид просто адаптировался и получил преимущество. Видимо, как раз по ту сторону Вуали мозги дырявые, а не по эту. Погибшие цивилизации и пизданутые дикари просто протекли с той стороны и не выдержали помех, воздействующих на нервную систему. Предлагаю создать генератор, имитирующий космический фон с нашей стороны и использовать его как психотронное оружие.
Гражданин Солнечной Империи, челомъ бьет
Гражданин Солнечной Империи, челомъ бьет
Тривиальное (ошибочное) название саблезубых кошек - саблезубые тигры. Такие дела.
АХУЕНО, ПЕШИ ИСЧО.
Зачем? Ты просто представь масштабы угодий которые человечество получило благодаря Вуали. Целых 3% территории галактики. Это область в тридцать тысяч световых лет диаметром.
лол ссука отлично.
откуда вообще текст?
Просто я милитарист
>Это область в тридцать тысяч световых лет диаметром.
Максимум в 3000свлет.
Moar.
Просто такие либерашки, как правило, самые настоящие человеконенавистники и социопаты.
Вообще в массе своей да.
Но в случае с Латыниной тут случай немного особый.
Жил-был себе пейсатель. Ну как. Не пейсатель, а, попрошу заметить, "советский писатель". Учился писать всякие узконишевые агитки вида "Капиталист Джон вылез из лимузина и пнул в рожу негра, борющегося за права трудящихся", которые никто особо и не читал кроме рецензентов.
Наступила перестройка, гласность, девяностые. Пейсателей попячили, но, поскольку у нашего советского "пейсателя" были СВЯЗИ, то он своё местечко сохранил. Только за неактуальностью капиталиста Джона, копипаститить стал по другому. Что-то в духе "Русская мразь Иван вылезла из БТРа и пнула в рожу гордого чеченского юношу". Вот и всё пейсательство.
Её личность раскрылась когда её травили то ли холмогоровыц, то ли ещё кто из этой кодлы. Картина была... ей там что-то вбрасывают, а она раскорячилась и орёт "мялиция!!!". Журналист, да. Сразу видно. Совок а-ля натюрель попёр.
А насчёт того, что ярлык содержание не соответствует... гм. Ну так, ясен перец. У нас же в политике плохих людей нет. Одни хорошие. Вот, например, либерал. Не верите? К массовым расстрелам призывал? А членский билетик - нась! А в билетике что написано? Какая партия? Ну! Программа-то либеральная, ну и шо вам ещё надо.
А коллеги по законодательному собранию тоже не отстают. Этот себе заместо бейджика "хочешь похудеть - спроси меня как" нацепил значок "патриот". И всё, патриот сразу. О Родине думает там. Так и пишут в прессе - патриот Василий Василич думает о Родине. Не верите? Да блядь ебаный насос, а значок для кого? Слепой щитоле?
И так везде. Говорить можно что угодно, думать - тоже, главное - бумаги выправить. А ещё лучше чтобы в газете написали. А журналисту что? У него тоже корочка - журналист. Двух слов связать не может, чтобы какую хуйню не сказать, какую-то профессиональную этику считает не утилитарным механизмом, а мемасом троллей - но значок-то есть. Что ещё надо?
годно
Неплохо, но заметно хуже первой части.
Была забавная повесть, где человечество правило галактикой, человеческий язык был обязателен, геноцид чужих рас, ад и израиль. Но рассказ идёт уже после падения Терранской империи, археологи-алиены шуршат на Земле в той долине, где мы произошли, воссоздают наше прошлое на спец девайсе, всякие эпохи -мусульманского завоевания африки, работорговлю, ПМВ, конца планеты, охуевают от нашей постоянной жестокости, мол слава богу вымерли. В конце оказывается, что нихуя не вымерли
Но названия не помню.
Но названия не помню.
>Была забавная повесть
-
Пришла пора напомнить как будет разворачиваться военный конфликт между Нибиру и Землей.
Все начинается с налёта с незаметного для земляшкинскового ПВО космических штурмовых платформ Гимрисун, с последующим ее выпиливанием плазменными бомбами. Ибо все эти С1000 с Патриотами и прочей сранью только и могут, что засекать и стрелять по земляшкинским летающим гробам. Дальше идет бомбардировка атомными торпедами аэродромов с почерневшими от времени Су-50 и Ф-22. Земляне в панике тут же поднимают свои гробы в воздух. Некоторая часть из них рассыпаются еще на взлете, ибо последний их капремонт проводился еще при Обаме. У других при выходе на 2 маха двигатели загораются прямо в воздухе, в виду того что последние 50 лет на земле производят только ангарные доминаторы.
Третьи же вообще не могут взлететь, ибо являются макетами, поставленными в бесконечные ряды для устрашения третьих стран при спутниковой съемке. Но не смотря на все лишения все-же половина истребительной авиации Земли в воздухе. Вот тут и вмешиваются так нелюбимые атлантами атмосферные киберистребители Нергал, которые благодаря своим ионным локаторам, сверхточным орудиям Син и сверхмалой заметностью способны сражаться с ними в пропорциях 1 к 100 и даже больше. Нергалы начинают усилинно доминировать земляшкинский гнилой скам. Уже через несколько часов на земле не остается боевой авиации. И это начало пиздеца.
Затем настает очередь старых проверенных кораблей маток - Тиамат. Тысячи кораблей дронов - Ламашту вырываются из чрева своих носителей. Своими лучевыми орудиями они как консервные банки вспарывают броню Т-14 и М-3 Гризли. Про Абрамсы и Меркавы вообще молчу. К ним подбегают аннунаки и вскрывают их броню стандартными энергоклинками, достают оттуда перепуганных человеческих танкистов, дают им обидные подсрачники и подзатыльники. На землю массово вводятся Аннунакские боевые шагающие машины с генераторами силовых полей и мезонными орудиями, отряды гвардейцев Элишту на асакку и мантару, напичканных электроникой по самую макушку, робоартиллерия Алу. Землястые пытаются с Галлу бороться своими древними Джавелинами, РПГ-50 и Каранданашми, 20-30 годов, но те просто улетают вдаль. Попутно необучаемые земляне реактивными струями выпиливают своих боевых товарищей, которые с открытым ртом стоят в полуметре позади гранатомётчиков. Здоровенные перекаченные бойцы Аннунакской гвардии, увидев это, подбегают к необученным земляшкинским солдатам, дают лапами по еблу и заберают эти ржавые мотыги. Делается это в первую очередь для безопасности самих необученных землян.
Ровно через месяц ВС Земли перестает существовать. Аннунакские гвардейцы входят в Женеву, окружают штаб-квартиру ООН, дают пиздюлей председателю, вывозят его на Нибиру, где после непродолжительного судебного процесса и под всеобщие аплодисменты вешают".
Все начинается с налёта с незаметного для земляшкинскового ПВО космических штурмовых платформ Гимрисун, с последующим ее выпиливанием плазменными бомбами. Ибо все эти С1000 с Патриотами и прочей сранью только и могут, что засекать и стрелять по земляшкинским летающим гробам. Дальше идет бомбардировка атомными торпедами аэродромов с почерневшими от времени Су-50 и Ф-22. Земляне в панике тут же поднимают свои гробы в воздух. Некоторая часть из них рассыпаются еще на взлете, ибо последний их капремонт проводился еще при Обаме. У других при выходе на 2 маха двигатели загораются прямо в воздухе, в виду того что последние 50 лет на земле производят только ангарные доминаторы.
Третьи же вообще не могут взлететь, ибо являются макетами, поставленными в бесконечные ряды для устрашения третьих стран при спутниковой съемке. Но не смотря на все лишения все-же половина истребительной авиации Земли в воздухе. Вот тут и вмешиваются так нелюбимые атлантами атмосферные киберистребители Нергал, которые благодаря своим ионным локаторам, сверхточным орудиям Син и сверхмалой заметностью способны сражаться с ними в пропорциях 1 к 100 и даже больше. Нергалы начинают усилинно доминировать земляшкинский гнилой скам. Уже через несколько часов на земле не остается боевой авиации. И это начало пиздеца.
Затем настает очередь старых проверенных кораблей маток - Тиамат. Тысячи кораблей дронов - Ламашту вырываются из чрева своих носителей. Своими лучевыми орудиями они как консервные банки вспарывают броню Т-14 и М-3 Гризли. Про Абрамсы и Меркавы вообще молчу. К ним подбегают аннунаки и вскрывают их броню стандартными энергоклинками, достают оттуда перепуганных человеческих танкистов, дают им обидные подсрачники и подзатыльники. На землю массово вводятся Аннунакские боевые шагающие машины с генераторами силовых полей и мезонными орудиями, отряды гвардейцев Элишту на асакку и мантару, напичканных электроникой по самую макушку, робоартиллерия Алу. Землястые пытаются с Галлу бороться своими древними Джавелинами, РПГ-50 и Каранданашми, 20-30 годов, но те просто улетают вдаль. Попутно необучаемые земляне реактивными струями выпиливают своих боевых товарищей, которые с открытым ртом стоят в полуметре позади гранатомётчиков. Здоровенные перекаченные бойцы Аннунакской гвардии, увидев это, подбегают к необученным земляшкинским солдатам, дают лапами по еблу и заберают эти ржавые мотыги. Делается это в первую очередь для безопасности самих необученных землян.
Ровно через месяц ВС Земли перестает существовать. Аннунакские гвардейцы входят в Женеву, окружают штаб-квартиру ООН, дают пиздюлей председателю, вывозят его на Нибиру, где после непродолжительного судебного процесса и под всеобщие аплодисменты вешают".
Сейчас я напишу, как будет проходить война с Нибиру. Всё начинается с того, что Навальный-младший без всякого предупреждения выпускает весь потенциал релятивистских чугунных торпед на столицу Хум Тхаа. В это время американский флот прорывается через орбиту Урана к гелиопаузе. Так как вооружение солдат Нибиру на внутренних границах системы не сильно отличается от вооружения времён Войн Потопа, они не сильно превосходят земные. Пока флот и абордажный десант уничтожают немногочисленные войска пограничников, фрегаты класса Ямато при поддержке иранских вспомогательных катеров совершают манёвр варп-пращи через Сириус и блокируют внешние порты в облаке Оорта. 130 катеров класса Ахмадинеджад высаживают солдат, которые не встречая особого сопротивления берут поселения-астероиды и продвигаются к карликовой планете - столице сектора. В это время около 80 фон Нейманновских роёв, которые распределены в назначенных местах, получают приказ через субсеть и уничтожают остатки интрасолярного флота, мобильная крепость Даадс Мренгс поглощена роями. Взяв столицу четвёртого сектора, земная армия получает мощный плацдарм, и, распределив формирования, двигается в глубину газового скопления, не встречая особого сопротивления вплоть до Конгрегации Пяти Лун. Трасценденты негласно оказывают поддержку землянам и никак не мешают им проводить экспансию. На фронте Цова-Кксот-Нарз-Гллану движение флотов замедляется, и они впервые встречают ожесточённое сопротивление спешно отозванных боевых кораблей с подпространственными движками. Так как Хум Тхаа уничтожена превентивным ударом чугунных бомб, Королева передвигается в Иксам-Свастси, но ответный удар не наносит Земле никакого ощутимого урона, так как до войны земляне уничтожили всех внедрённых агентов и переместили всё гражданское население в анабиоз на орбиту Венеры. В срочном порядке отзываются все флоты с Проциона, Фомальгаута, Альфы Центавра, однако из-за политических прений с цивилизацией Веги некоторые формирования застревают в межзвёздном пространстве в негатронных ловушках. Мощный прорыв новейших крейсеров класса Трамп и наступление по всему фронту позволяют армии землян продвинуться вплотную к руинам Хум Тхаа и даже уничтожить в плазменных котлах несколько формирований рептилоидов. Вооружение рептилоидов развитее земного, но их флот малочисленен, а с всего лишь пятью ударными крейсерами в резерве не получается даже справиться десятитысячелетней давности тактикой слияния с астероидами, поэтому флот Нибиру быстро выдыхается, сдаёт Конгрегацию и отступает на поверхность Иксам-Свастси, собрав ошметки в кулак, однако в этом нет надобности - когда земляне достигает первого рубежа орбитальной обороны, Королева подписывает капитуляцию.
Чото проиграл
Релейтед только вторая паста.
>А уж люди ТЭТ смотрят вообще на всех как на говно.
Такая йоба раса что до 22 тысячелетия избегала орков и эльдар, а как встретилась с этими ксеносами то сразу началась Эра Раздора с проебом всего.
Мастер Раса,блять.
>паста из humanity fuck yeah про войну с аннунаками
Вообще-то нет, орков гоняли, эльдары мирно долбились в жопы вокруг будущего очка ужаса.
Эх, вот только, ребята, человечество, если вдруг объединится в ближайшем будущем, будет состоять на ~80% из населения бывших развивающихся стран. Задумался и приуныл.
им есть резон как для объединения так и для технологического развития, реализация текущих технологий. Попадалось чтото в духе что они внедряют инновации более охотно и на широкую ногу чем товарищи с уже сложившимися производствами.
не все так просто, но чтото в этом есть.
Да нет, в эпоху глобализации это возможно. Человечество идёт к универсальной морали, вот только националисты и мультикультуралисты ставят палки в колёса.
Я просто боюсь, что белый человек умрёт.
универсальная мораль, примерно также как и продвинутый социализм, где то там.
> Человечество идёт к универсальной морали, вот только националисты и мультикультуралисты ставят палки в колёса.
Ну, как там у вас дела идут в девяностых, мистер Фукуяма?
Мистер Фукуяма был защитником национальных государств. Да и либерализм - не конец истории.
Я только у Снегова не мог понять, нахуя, владея одновременно прямой и обратной реакцией, нужно было засирать космос тучами пыли по пути следования — чтоб потом какой-то корабль, идя с релятивистской скоростью, наткнулся на них и превратился в дуршлаг? Ведь можно было просто уничтожать пространство впереди, а пыль тут же превращать в пространство сзади, получив классический пузырь Альбукерке.
Читал ЛКБ сто лет назад и могу ошибаться, так что не обессудь если дезинформирую, но ЕМНИП,
>нужно было засирать космос тучами пыли по пути следования
Вроде же не засирали.
Насколько я помню аннигиляторы брали материю и перерабатывали ее в "ничто" так, чтобы никаких туч не оставалось.
Напротив, оставались постоянно расширяющиеся участки "ничего", из-за которых бугуртили Рамиры, которые в свое время немало таких оставили.
Тучи пыли образовывались вроде как во время обратной реакции, когда аннигилятор забирал это самое "ничто", пустое пространство, и вырабатывал материю(Плуги пользовались этой способностью в первой книге, когда отбрасывали от себя вражеские корабли в первой схватке, опять же ЕМНИП).
>чтоб потом какой-то корабль, идя с релятивистской скоростью, наткнулся на них и превратился в дуршлаг
Так там же вроде все меж системами на сверхсвете летают, на реакции Танева, которая может переработать эти тучи пыли. На досвете там вроде только внутрисистемники летали, а внутри звездных систем использовать реакцию Танева было запрещено.
Короче пусть местный снегофаг пояснит, он точно поболее моего знает.
Тащемта, психополе, сводящее с ума при этом позволившее некоторым развиться до уровня не хуже нашего на момент начала повествования это что-то из разряда варп-магии, а магию бояться не зазорно.
Под конец трилогии вроде так и делали.
Бамп
Там сразу об этом сказано - горы представляют из себя нехилые шматы анобтаниума (высокотемпературного сверхпроводника, между прочим), висящие в мощном электромагнитном поле (там даже наземные каменные арки явно сформировались по силовым линиям поля).
МОАР!
Ох ебать, забыл совсем про этот тред.
Теперь стыдно, что тогда отмазался дальше переводить, но РЛ внесла коррективы в планы.
Если будет не впадлу, доделаю, может кто другой будет еще переводить те тексты.
Бамп годному треду
Это какая-то старая война Миров?
Больше похоже на монтаж с вставленными треногами.
Тред ебаных ксенофобов, горите в аду своей ненависти!
Посты под номерами
(особенно этот)
(человеки - буквоеды из буквоедов)
говорят, что ты неправ.
Возможно уже было.
Кончил фонтаном от такого эпика.
Это значит что ты школьник.
Просто я не дрочу на твердоту. Я за атмосферу.
И дебил к тому же.
Жаль что мой англецкий чрезвычайно плох. Про что хоть примерно?
Про школьников.
Но-но, не школьников, а ПАТРИОТОВ человечества.
>нешкольников
Ясно.
С. Лем "Фиаско".
вау, прямо по реквесту и в принципе даже на отличненько так. Такую книженцию я бы навернул с удовольствием.
Ебучий ксеноеб.
Эта галактика должна принадлежать одному человечеству.
Читайте книгу армия солнца.
Из форчановского цикла про цивилизацию жопошников: на этот раз челувеки при помощи калайдера взломали матрицу, и узнали, что у их существования есть цель, но само существование ложно. Преисполнившись экзистенциальной ярости они нашли эксплойт в говнокоде вселенной и вылезли в истинный интернет, потом напечатали себя на принтерах и выпилили пару цивилизаций на новом слое матрицы.
А тут Миротворцев из farscape никто не вспоминал ?
А чего их вспоминать, если бы не Крайтон, просрали бы все полимеры.
Если ты тот самый анон который чуть выше посоветовал армию солнца или даже ее автор, то я желаю тебе рака.
Армия Солнце такая хуетень, что даже пресловутый казак в раю на ее фоне выглядеть замечательной литературой. Сука, как же у меня бомбит с этого говна. Просто пиздец. Такое чувство как будто это писала обезьяна, а не человек.
Идея то збс. Превосходные человеки нагибают ксеносов налево и на права и строят убер империю вселенского масштаб с покорением тысяч ксенорас.
Но реализация полный пиздец. Начиная с крайне уебанского стиля письма, закачивания логикой и прочими глупостями.
Вот люди в этой вселенной. Самые крутые и превосходные уберсолдаты нагебатели. Но почему? Автор хотя бы пытался это объяснить? Нет конечно, люди крутые и все тут. А ведь есть куча способов логично объяснить крутость человека. Ну к примеру биологическая, 99% ксенорас по каким то причинам эволюционирует только из растений и одни люди тут такие уникальные, что разумными стали животные. Или социокультурные факторы, мол мы постоянно воюем и сремся друг с другам, что заставляет нас развиваться и это вытачивает из нас великолепных захватчиков и солдат. Или смесь биологии и культуры, мол мы достаточно разумны чтобы выйти в космос и строить империю, но при этом крайне кровожадны. Тогда как во вселенной в космос могут только разумные и добрые цивилизации, а ебучие варвары дальше каменного века не поднимаются.
Но нет, объяснения нам нахуй не нужны. Но ладно людей показали крутыми и не объяснили это. Но почему круты только илитные спецназовцы которых к этому готовили? Почему тогда даже простые гражданские без грамма военной подготовки на голову не превосходят ксеносов? Показали бы как обычный человек на равных ебашиться с тремя элитными ксеноспецназовцами. Мол, вон человек насколько силен! Но опять нет, обычные люди такие же слабые как и все другие.
Дальше, почему у всех сотен видов ксеносов абсолютно одна и та же психология? Мол все виды разные, а ментально не чем не отличаются от обычного человека. Какой нибудь разумный осьминог и панчекряг смотрят на сириусянскую бабу с космическими сиськами и говорят какая она сексе. А ведь автор мог бы запилить реальную годноту раскрыв тему космической ассимиляции и выдвинув телегу что мол за тысячи лет угнетений, человеки навязали свою ментальность большинству видов, и поэтому они ведут себя как люди. Хоть людьми и не являются. Но нет, у нас тут американская фантастика как 60-тых. Только космической принцессы и принца не хватает.
А почему люди проебали свою импераху? А почему людей не выпилили хоть они и крайне опасны? А как ксеносы победили людей если они такие крутые?
В общем, книга говно, автор мудак, а любому кто это советует, я предлагаю оккупацию поборниками чистоты и последующее переработку в пищевой концентрат.
Просто ты не дорос еще.
Повзрослеешь - поймешь.
> Ну к примеру биологическая, 99% ксенорас по каким то причинам эволюционирует только из растений и одни люди тут такие уникальные
хуита хует
>Или социокультурные факторы, мол мы постоянно воюем и сремся друг с другам, что заставляет нас развиваться и это вытачивает из нас великолепных захватчиков и солдат.
хуета
>Или смесь биологии и культуры, мол мы достаточно разумны чтобы выйти в космос и строить империю, но при этом крайне кровожадны.
ну мы не кровожадны, но если принять это описалово чем это отличается от того на что ты жалуешься, автор пожал плечами и сказал - ну так получилось.
Вообще авторы постоянно палятся на том что начинат подводить основу при этом совершенно не разбираясь в предмете.
>Но почему круты только илитные спецназовцы которых к этому готовили?
ты шутишь так чтоли или поехал?
>а ментально не чем не отличаются от обычного человека.
у всех авторов такое говно, потому что если будет оп другому васян не купит, да и не поймет если купит, это же не талмуд по гештальт психологии ксеносов.
Вообщем ты доебался что рюшечки не твои, ну хули бывает.
И тебе того же.
другой анон, не читал
Маги и волшебники, ведьмы и колдуны, оборотни и вампиры, сидхе и малый народец. Они всегда были рядом с нами, жили среди нас, иногда помогали, но чаще - просто паразитировали. Биоэнергия, производимая всем живым, от одноклеточных до стометровых секвой, позволяла творить небольшие чудеса. Энергия, которая возникала в результате высшей нервной деятельности человека и животных, уже позволяла намного больше. Однако мало было знать и уметь использовать эту энергию - ещё надо обладать крайне редким рецессивным геном, проявляющимся при определённых обстоятельствах. Происхождение его до сих пор неизвестно - случайная мутация или какое-то воздействие? Но, тем не менее, передать его потомкам было непросто. Чаще было проще выследить носителей гена и воздействовать на них, чтобы родился ребёнок с нужными качествами. Многие общины магов издревле похищали детей у обычных людей, а некоторые, не скованные моральными ограничениями, и вовсе держали рабов-производителей. Но ближе к средним векам необходимость в этом отпала - генетические линии оформились, а их разнообразие стало достаточным для не допущения вырождения. Среди магов было немало учёных, инстинктивно пришедших к методам, которые традиционная наука открыла лишь в двадцатом веке. Тем не менее, похищения продолжались - зачастую просто из-за приверженности традициям.
До поры до времени человечество вполне мирно уживалось с волшебством. Людей было мало, магов - и того меньше. Но потихоньку число населения Земли росло, соответственно, росло и число обладающих "волшебным" геном. Те из волшебников, кто осознавал свою малочисленность и уязвимость, кооперировались. Но таким благоразумием отличались далеко не все - в конце концов, они тоже были просто людьми, лишь обладающими новыми силами. Отсюда и пошли легенды о злых волшебниках и отвратительных колдуньях, творящих чёрные ритуалы. И немудрено - эмоциональную энергию боли и страданий получить проще всего. Многие волшебники проворачивали нехитрый трюк, сперва насылая на людей беды, а затем являлись сами и "героически" избавляли страждущих от собственных же порождений, собирая двойной "урожай".
Первый организованный отпор человечество дало в средние века - "охота на ведьм", погубившая немало невинных, здорово напугала представителей волшебного мира. Некоторые из них закончили свой жизненный путь на кострах инквизиции, остальные затаились и стали вырабатывать меры противодействия обнаружению и чары, манипулирующие сознанием. А успокоившееся человечество стало почивать на лаврах первой победы над неведомым.
Шли века, два мира существовали параллельно, почти не пересекаясь. Иногда кто-то встречал в лесу единорога или видел летящую на метле ведьму, но эти случаи стали столь редки, что никто не воспринимал рассказы о них всерьёз. Волшебный мир, гораздо более тщательно хранящий память о былом (просто из-за большей продолжительности жизни), опасливо подбирал ключик к сознанию человека. Разумеется, на контроль целых народов никто не замахивался, но люди сами облегчили задачу, создав религию и государства. Достаточно было аккуратного воздействия на первых лиц. А с учётом возможностей, которые давала магия, "другой" мир мог наконец чувствовать себя в безопасности. Были выработаны правила поведения, тот же вампирский "Маскарад". Некоторым такое положение вещей весьма не нравилось, но благоразумие пока что побеждало тягу к власти и силе.
Кстати, о силе. Численность населения постоянно росла, соответственно, рос и приток энергии. А вот приток новообращённых регулировали сами же маги. Мало кому хотелось плодить конкурентов самому себе, особенно с учётом того, что даже самый завалящий волшебник умел продлевать свою жизнь в полтора-два раза, не говоря уж о вампирах и прочих эльфах. Однако замкнутость не шла на пользу сообществу магов. Некогда монолитное, оно стало разваливаться на мелкие диаспоры, каждая со своими нормами, принципами и законами. Между ними нередко вспыхивали конфликты, зачастую выливавшиеся в человеческие войны - особенно когда кто-то решал уменьшить "кормовую базу" конкурента. Всё же в конце концов, большинство волшебников и прочих нелюдей сумело интегрироваться в человеческое общество, заняв места знати или духовенства. В эпоху феодальной раздробленности были нередки случаи, когда вся верхушка какого-нибудь королевства состояла из обладающих даром волшебства. Исключением стали ортодоксы-отшельники и те, кто уже потерял человеческий облик.
Однако ограничение своей численности сыграло с волшебниками крайне злую шутку. Они уже не успевали следить за всем происходящим в человеческом обществе. Первым неприятным сюрпризом стало изобретение огнестрельного оружия. Затем неприятные сюрпризы на долгое время вроде как прекратились, и магическое сообщество успокоилось, вновь принявшись активно выяснять отношения, но вполглаза приглядывая за научно-техническим прогрессом, иногда заводя лучшие умы человечества в тупик неосуществимыми идеями, вроде полётов или мгновенной связи на расстоянии.
Но беда пришла вовсе не от пушек, локомотивов или телеграфа. Возникшая в 19-м веке идея вылилась в революцию 1917-го года в России. И тут маги знатно струхнули. Сама идея равенства была им противна до глубины души. И равенства с кем? С "земляными червями"? Со "скотиной", как выражались вампиры? Только вот последовавший за революцией "красный террор" заслужил среди магов звание "великой охоты на ведьм". Новый режим словно пожирал сам себя, с жестокой неумолимостью выявляя в своих рядах не таких, как все. Счёт жертвам шёл на сотни тысяч, и некому было использовать эту прорву энергии. Почти полностью были уничтожены знать и духовенство, а оставшиеся бежали из страны.
Все эти события отвлекли внимание от научно-технического прогресса, который в двадцатом веке рванул семимильными шагами. Но увлёкшимся противостоянием с СССР магам это было только на руку - прогресс средств уничтожения тоже шёл крайне быстро. Первая мировая война заглохла, однако мир стал готовиться к следующей войне. И она грянула, подстрекаемая ментальными внушениями лидерам некоторых стран. Одной идее противопоставили другую, добавили харизмы бывшему ефрейтору, ставшему разменной пешкой в чужих руках - и разразилась невиданная ранее бойня. "Их магичества" слишком поздно поняли, что контроль над событиями давно утрачен, и теперь им остаётся лишь надеяться, что война не затронет их самих. А огненные грибы атомных взрывов показали, какого джинна они выпустили из бутылки. Ужаснувшись содеянному, волшебники попытались хотя бы смягчить последствия, но их вмешательства не всегда приводили к улучшению ситуации - часто возникал очередной кризис. И, к их крайнему удивлению, страна, долгие семьдесят лет пугавшая их одним фактом своего существования, распалась по совсем не зависящим от них причинам.
До поры до времени человечество вполне мирно уживалось с волшебством. Людей было мало, магов - и того меньше. Но потихоньку число населения Земли росло, соответственно, росло и число обладающих "волшебным" геном. Те из волшебников, кто осознавал свою малочисленность и уязвимость, кооперировались. Но таким благоразумием отличались далеко не все - в конце концов, они тоже были просто людьми, лишь обладающими новыми силами. Отсюда и пошли легенды о злых волшебниках и отвратительных колдуньях, творящих чёрные ритуалы. И немудрено - эмоциональную энергию боли и страданий получить проще всего. Многие волшебники проворачивали нехитрый трюк, сперва насылая на людей беды, а затем являлись сами и "героически" избавляли страждущих от собственных же порождений, собирая двойной "урожай".
Первый организованный отпор человечество дало в средние века - "охота на ведьм", погубившая немало невинных, здорово напугала представителей волшебного мира. Некоторые из них закончили свой жизненный путь на кострах инквизиции, остальные затаились и стали вырабатывать меры противодействия обнаружению и чары, манипулирующие сознанием. А успокоившееся человечество стало почивать на лаврах первой победы над неведомым.
Шли века, два мира существовали параллельно, почти не пересекаясь. Иногда кто-то встречал в лесу единорога или видел летящую на метле ведьму, но эти случаи стали столь редки, что никто не воспринимал рассказы о них всерьёз. Волшебный мир, гораздо более тщательно хранящий память о былом (просто из-за большей продолжительности жизни), опасливо подбирал ключик к сознанию человека. Разумеется, на контроль целых народов никто не замахивался, но люди сами облегчили задачу, создав религию и государства. Достаточно было аккуратного воздействия на первых лиц. А с учётом возможностей, которые давала магия, "другой" мир мог наконец чувствовать себя в безопасности. Были выработаны правила поведения, тот же вампирский "Маскарад". Некоторым такое положение вещей весьма не нравилось, но благоразумие пока что побеждало тягу к власти и силе.
Кстати, о силе. Численность населения постоянно росла, соответственно, рос и приток энергии. А вот приток новообращённых регулировали сами же маги. Мало кому хотелось плодить конкурентов самому себе, особенно с учётом того, что даже самый завалящий волшебник умел продлевать свою жизнь в полтора-два раза, не говоря уж о вампирах и прочих эльфах. Однако замкнутость не шла на пользу сообществу магов. Некогда монолитное, оно стало разваливаться на мелкие диаспоры, каждая со своими нормами, принципами и законами. Между ними нередко вспыхивали конфликты, зачастую выливавшиеся в человеческие войны - особенно когда кто-то решал уменьшить "кормовую базу" конкурента. Всё же в конце концов, большинство волшебников и прочих нелюдей сумело интегрироваться в человеческое общество, заняв места знати или духовенства. В эпоху феодальной раздробленности были нередки случаи, когда вся верхушка какого-нибудь королевства состояла из обладающих даром волшебства. Исключением стали ортодоксы-отшельники и те, кто уже потерял человеческий облик.
Однако ограничение своей численности сыграло с волшебниками крайне злую шутку. Они уже не успевали следить за всем происходящим в человеческом обществе. Первым неприятным сюрпризом стало изобретение огнестрельного оружия. Затем неприятные сюрпризы на долгое время вроде как прекратились, и магическое сообщество успокоилось, вновь принявшись активно выяснять отношения, но вполглаза приглядывая за научно-техническим прогрессом, иногда заводя лучшие умы человечества в тупик неосуществимыми идеями, вроде полётов или мгновенной связи на расстоянии.
Но беда пришла вовсе не от пушек, локомотивов или телеграфа. Возникшая в 19-м веке идея вылилась в революцию 1917-го года в России. И тут маги знатно струхнули. Сама идея равенства была им противна до глубины души. И равенства с кем? С "земляными червями"? Со "скотиной", как выражались вампиры? Только вот последовавший за революцией "красный террор" заслужил среди магов звание "великой охоты на ведьм". Новый режим словно пожирал сам себя, с жестокой неумолимостью выявляя в своих рядах не таких, как все. Счёт жертвам шёл на сотни тысяч, и некому было использовать эту прорву энергии. Почти полностью были уничтожены знать и духовенство, а оставшиеся бежали из страны.
Все эти события отвлекли внимание от научно-технического прогресса, который в двадцатом веке рванул семимильными шагами. Но увлёкшимся противостоянием с СССР магам это было только на руку - прогресс средств уничтожения тоже шёл крайне быстро. Первая мировая война заглохла, однако мир стал готовиться к следующей войне. И она грянула, подстрекаемая ментальными внушениями лидерам некоторых стран. Одной идее противопоставили другую, добавили харизмы бывшему ефрейтору, ставшему разменной пешкой в чужих руках - и разразилась невиданная ранее бойня. "Их магичества" слишком поздно поняли, что контроль над событиями давно утрачен, и теперь им остаётся лишь надеяться, что война не затронет их самих. А огненные грибы атомных взрывов показали, какого джинна они выпустили из бутылки. Ужаснувшись содеянному, волшебники попытались хотя бы смягчить последствия, но их вмешательства не всегда приводили к улучшению ситуации - часто возникал очередной кризис. И, к их крайнему удивлению, страна, долгие семьдесят лет пугавшая их одним фактом своего существования, распалась по совсем не зависящим от них причинам.
Тем временем население Земли достигло нескольких миллиардов человек. Потоки магической энергии возросли настолько, что стало возможным претворять в жизнь действительно сильные заклинания. Но волшебники, слишком хорошо помнящие свои промахи в начале века, наложили на себя добровольные ограничения и создали специальный орган для слежения за исполнением договора о невмешательстве в дела людей. Конечно же, многие снова отказались исполнять этот договор. Конечно же, снова разразились конфликты.
И опять внимание "иных" оказалось направлено не в ту сторону. Интернет, опутавший в двадцать первом веке своей сетью всю планету. Смартфоны буквально у каждого. Огромные потоки данных и объёмы информации, собираемые в дата-центрах. Всё более изощрённые алгоритмы обработки этой информации. И запрос, созданный ради шутки аналитиком одной из спецслужб.
"Найти людей, обладающих сверхъестественными способностями."
К тому времени системы слабого интеллекта достигли заметного совершенства и сумели начать выявлять поведенческие аномалии. Инструмент, применявшийся для розыска террористов, хакеров и политически неблагонадёжных личностей, с успехом стал обнаруживать и потусторонние сущности. Даже если они не пользовалась благами современной цивилизации вроде кредитных карт, покупок в интернет-магазинах или социальными сетями, вокруг них постоянно находилось огромное количество следящих устройств, от спутников до камер видеонаблюдения и любителей снимать всё подряд и выкладывать на Youtube.
Разумеется, сперва выводам систем не поверили. Но наблюдение за несколькими "объектами" убедило в том, что рядом с людьми живут и нелюди. Которые тоже не сразу заметили слежку, а те, кто заметил - не систематизировали случаи.
А потом случилась утечка информации. Эффект был сравним с испытанием царь-бомбы. Данные наблюдений и выводы аналитиков убедили почти всех, за исключением разве что самых закоренелых скептиков. И, разумеется, не всем нелюдям хватило благоразумия уйти глубже в тень. Кто-то хотел внимания и известности, кто-то просто устал скрываться, а кто-то счёл ниже своего достоинства прятаться. И всё было относительно спокойно, пока один любопытный исследователь не залез в архивы одной из библиотек волшебников, где были аккуратно запротоколированы почти все случаи вмешательства в человеческую историю, в том числе ставшие причиной войн и прочих неприятностей. Ситуацию подогрело и то, что многие из участников тех событий были живы до сих пор.
Разразившийся скандал прогремел на весь мир. Человеку ведь очень не нравится, когда им манипулируют, тем более так, ковыряясь в мозгах. Конфликт разгорелся не на шутку. Общественность требовала трибунала над живыми участниками событий, произошедших почти сто лет назад, ведь преступления против человечности не имели срока давности. А как ещё назвать разжигание одной из самых кровопролитных войн? Участники тех событий ожидаемо не желали суда над собой, ведь им грозил смертный приговор. Прочие волшебники ни за что не желали ограничения своего влияния. И началась новая война, проигранная одной стороной уже до начала. Слишком уж мало было людей, обладающих паранормальными способностями. Слишком уж велик был страх перед ними, породивший невероятную ненависть. И эта ненависть отравляла волшебство и волшебников изнутри, ведь они привыкли поглощать энергию, производимую эмоциями. Только вот теперь в этой энергии было полно яда, направленного против них. Те, кто упорствовал, постепенно превратились в яростных безумцев и их быстро перебили. Те, кто сдались, попали под неусыпный контроль. Их изучили, нашли применение их способностям, так что бывшие хозяева стали слугами.
Увы, симпатичных эльфиек и кошкодевочек среди них не оказалось.
И опять внимание "иных" оказалось направлено не в ту сторону. Интернет, опутавший в двадцать первом веке своей сетью всю планету. Смартфоны буквально у каждого. Огромные потоки данных и объёмы информации, собираемые в дата-центрах. Всё более изощрённые алгоритмы обработки этой информации. И запрос, созданный ради шутки аналитиком одной из спецслужб.
"Найти людей, обладающих сверхъестественными способностями."
К тому времени системы слабого интеллекта достигли заметного совершенства и сумели начать выявлять поведенческие аномалии. Инструмент, применявшийся для розыска террористов, хакеров и политически неблагонадёжных личностей, с успехом стал обнаруживать и потусторонние сущности. Даже если они не пользовалась благами современной цивилизации вроде кредитных карт, покупок в интернет-магазинах или социальными сетями, вокруг них постоянно находилось огромное количество следящих устройств, от спутников до камер видеонаблюдения и любителей снимать всё подряд и выкладывать на Youtube.
Разумеется, сперва выводам систем не поверили. Но наблюдение за несколькими "объектами" убедило в том, что рядом с людьми живут и нелюди. Которые тоже не сразу заметили слежку, а те, кто заметил - не систематизировали случаи.
А потом случилась утечка информации. Эффект был сравним с испытанием царь-бомбы. Данные наблюдений и выводы аналитиков убедили почти всех, за исключением разве что самых закоренелых скептиков. И, разумеется, не всем нелюдям хватило благоразумия уйти глубже в тень. Кто-то хотел внимания и известности, кто-то просто устал скрываться, а кто-то счёл ниже своего достоинства прятаться. И всё было относительно спокойно, пока один любопытный исследователь не залез в архивы одной из библиотек волшебников, где были аккуратно запротоколированы почти все случаи вмешательства в человеческую историю, в том числе ставшие причиной войн и прочих неприятностей. Ситуацию подогрело и то, что многие из участников тех событий были живы до сих пор.
Разразившийся скандал прогремел на весь мир. Человеку ведь очень не нравится, когда им манипулируют, тем более так, ковыряясь в мозгах. Конфликт разгорелся не на шутку. Общественность требовала трибунала над живыми участниками событий, произошедших почти сто лет назад, ведь преступления против человечности не имели срока давности. А как ещё назвать разжигание одной из самых кровопролитных войн? Участники тех событий ожидаемо не желали суда над собой, ведь им грозил смертный приговор. Прочие волшебники ни за что не желали ограничения своего влияния. И началась новая война, проигранная одной стороной уже до начала. Слишком уж мало было людей, обладающих паранормальными способностями. Слишком уж велик был страх перед ними, породивший невероятную ненависть. И эта ненависть отравляла волшебство и волшебников изнутри, ведь они привыкли поглощать энергию, производимую эмоциями. Только вот теперь в этой энергии было полно яда, направленного против них. Те, кто упорствовал, постепенно превратились в яростных безумцев и их быстро перебили. Те, кто сдались, попали под неусыпный контроль. Их изучили, нашли применение их способностям, так что бывшие хозяева стали слугами.
Увы, симпатичных эльфиек и кошкодевочек среди них не оказалось.
Посоветовавшему "Лестница из терновника" желаю рака яичек. Такой отборной хрени давно не читал.
Ну как образец сенен-ай ксенофантастики она неплоха. А как хуманити фак йе действительно говно то еще.
> Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно, что менее развитые расы смотрят на людей как на Ктулху
Пиздец, кому это может быть интересно? У меня просто в голове не укладывается нахуй читать про каких-то унтерменшей. Ты же про тараконов худлит не читаешь?
>Ты же про тараконов худлит не читаешь?
Вообще-то читаю.
Охуительный был рассказ, сразу видно - человек понимающий
Что, типичный популярный рассказ про ктулх внезапно станет неинтересным, если в конце вставить поворот что терпилы от лица которых ведётся рассказ инопланетяне а ктулха это люди?
Жалко будет если тред потонет.
Серия Манифольд Стивена Бакстера, а особенно Ориджин, идеально подходит под реквест, лучше чем все что до сих пор было упомянуто тысячекратно. Не, бесконечнократно.
Просто оставлю это здесь.
И это лишь вершина айсберга. Вкратце, здесь тема Хуманити фак е вывернута на максимум, и больше. По сравнению с масштабами, на которых оперирует постчеловечество в серии эти ваши гурренлаганы кажутся бесконечно маленькими, несущественными детишками, играющими в песочнице.
Просто оставлю это здесь.
И это лишь вершина айсберга. Вкратце, здесь тема Хуманити фак е вывернута на максимум, и больше. По сравнению с масштабами, на которых оперирует постчеловечество в серии эти ваши гурренлаганы кажутся бесконечно маленькими, несущественными детишками, играющими в песочнице.
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/what-technological-civilization-can-defeat-the-downstreamers.155834/
Вот еще немного инфы про постчеловечество из Манифольда. Если это не воплощение хуманити фак е то я не знаю что.
Вот еще немного инфы про постчеловечество из Манифольда. Если это не воплощение хуманити фак е то я не знаю что.
My Little Galaxy, лол
Бамп годнотой.
"The future has gone," Malenfant said. "My God. That's what this means, isn't it? The downstream can't happen now. All of it is gone. The colonization of the Galaxy; the settlement of the universe; the long, patient fight against entropy..." That immense future had been cut off to die, like a tree chopped through at the root. "Why, Michael? Why have the children done this? Burned the house down, destroyed the future-"
Because it was the wrong future. Michael looked around the sky. He pointed to the lumpy, spreading edge of the unreality bubble.
There. Can you see that? It's already starting...
"What is?"
The budding... The growth of the true vacuum region is not even. There will be pockets of the false vacuum - remnants of our universe - isolated by the spreading true vacuum. The fragments of false vacuum will collapse. Like-
"Like black holes." And in that instant, Malenfant understood. "That's what this is for. This is just a better way of making black holes, and budding off new universes. Better than stars, even."
Much better. The black holes created as the vacuum decay proceeds will overwhelm by many orders of magnitude the mere billion billion that our universe might have created through its stars and galaxy cores.
"And the long, slow evolution of the universes, the branching tree of cosmoses?..."
We have changed everything, Malenfant. Mind has assumed responsibility for the evolution of the cosmos. There will be many daughter universes - universes too many to count, universes exotic beyond our imagining - and many, many of them will harbor life and mind.
"But we were the first."
Now he understood. This was the purpose. Not the long survival of humankind into a dismal future of decay and shadows, the final retreat into the lossless substrate, where nothing ever changed or grew. The purpose of humankind - the first intelligence of all - had been to reshape the universe in order to bud others and create a storm of mind. We got it wrong, he thought. By striving for a meaningless eternity, humans denied true infinity. But we reached back, back in time, back to the far upstream, and spoke to our last children - the maligned Blues - and we put it right. This is what it meant to be alone in the universe, to be the first. We had all of infinite time and space in our hands. We had ultimate responsibility. And we discharged it. We were parents of the universe, not its children.
"The future has gone," Malenfant said. "My God. That's what this means, isn't it? The downstream can't happen now. All of it is gone. The colonization of the Galaxy; the settlement of the universe; the long, patient fight against entropy..." That immense future had been cut off to die, like a tree chopped through at the root. "Why, Michael? Why have the children done this? Burned the house down, destroyed the future-"
Because it was the wrong future. Michael looked around the sky. He pointed to the lumpy, spreading edge of the unreality bubble.
There. Can you see that? It's already starting...
"What is?"
The budding... The growth of the true vacuum region is not even. There will be pockets of the false vacuum - remnants of our universe - isolated by the spreading true vacuum. The fragments of false vacuum will collapse. Like-
"Like black holes." And in that instant, Malenfant understood. "That's what this is for. This is just a better way of making black holes, and budding off new universes. Better than stars, even."
Much better. The black holes created as the vacuum decay proceeds will overwhelm by many orders of magnitude the mere billion billion that our universe might have created through its stars and galaxy cores.
"And the long, slow evolution of the universes, the branching tree of cosmoses?..."
We have changed everything, Malenfant. Mind has assumed responsibility for the evolution of the cosmos. There will be many daughter universes - universes too many to count, universes exotic beyond our imagining - and many, many of them will harbor life and mind.
"But we were the first."
Now he understood. This was the purpose. Not the long survival of humankind into a dismal future of decay and shadows, the final retreat into the lossless substrate, where nothing ever changed or grew. The purpose of humankind - the first intelligence of all - had been to reshape the universe in order to bud others and create a storm of mind. We got it wrong, he thought. By striving for a meaningless eternity, humans denied true infinity. But we reached back, back in time, back to the far upstream, and spoke to our last children - the maligned Blues - and we put it right. This is what it meant to be alone in the universe, to be the first. We had all of infinite time and space in our hands. We had ultimate responsibility. And we discharged it. We were parents of the universe, not its children.
http://skim.7bb.ru/viewtopic.php?id=261
https://ficbook.net/readfic/3800973
Нашел недавно нашел вот эту годноту.
Короч, это фанфик кроссовер вселенной x-com и масс эффект.
Идеально подходит под реквест ОПа. Человечество пережив вторжение эфириалов, залутало самих эфириалов и все их технологии. Все люди поголовно псионики и адово угорают по генетическим модификациям и улучшению тела. Как гражданские, так и военные.
Средний оперативник x-com, это двухметровая хуйня упакованная в люто улучшенное генетикой тело, которое можно убить только быстрым, решительным разрушением мозга(и то тогда сюрприз будет для убийцы), и к тому же охуенный псионик который может поднимать мертвых, брать разумных под контроль и сводить врагов сума.
Все происходит в 2250 когда x-com начал тайную операцию по проникновению и сбору информации о Цитадели и расах которые его населяют. А так как есть родовая травма вторжения пришельцев, люди довольно ксенофобны и осторожны. Но и не отбитые любители ксеноцида.
Люди тут непонятная НЕХ из глубин неизведанного космоса, а все повествование идет не от лица людей, а от лица азари и других цивилизованных рас.
https://ficbook.net/readfic/3800973
Нашел недавно нашел вот эту годноту.
Короч, это фанфик кроссовер вселенной x-com и масс эффект.
Идеально подходит под реквест ОПа. Человечество пережив вторжение эфириалов, залутало самих эфириалов и все их технологии. Все люди поголовно псионики и адово угорают по генетическим модификациям и улучшению тела. Как гражданские, так и военные.
Средний оперативник x-com, это двухметровая хуйня упакованная в люто улучшенное генетикой тело, которое можно убить только быстрым, решительным разрушением мозга(и то тогда сюрприз будет для убийцы), и к тому же охуенный псионик который может поднимать мертвых, брать разумных под контроль и сводить врагов сума.
Все происходит в 2250 когда x-com начал тайную операцию по проникновению и сбору информации о Цитадели и расах которые его населяют. А так как есть родовая травма вторжения пришельцев, люди довольно ксенофобны и осторожны. Но и не отбитые любители ксеноцида.
Люди тут непонятная НЕХ из глубин неизведанного космоса, а все повествование идет не от лица людей, а от лица азари и других цивилизованных рас.
>Вуаль
Спижжено с медленной и быстрой зоны у Винджа
Спижжено с медленной и быстрой зоны у Винджа
>18+
>азари
Опять ебля с синими бабами, фантазии нет уже?
>Человечество пережив вторжение эфириалов, залутало самих эфириалов и все их технологии. Все люди поголовно псионики и адово угорают по генетическим модификациям и улучшению тела
ну это же скучно. Где превознемогание? Без превознемогания это не fuck yeah, а уныние, тем более с полутаными техами от эфирных.
>What is the strongest weapon of mankind? The god-machines of the Adeptus Mechanicus? No! The Astartes Legions? No! The tank? The lasgun? The fist? Not at all! Courage and courage alone stands above them all!
Вот это - fuck yeah! А так как избиение ясельной группы, ждешь что сейчас из кустов вылезут хиппи и начнуть ныть о правах животных
>Опять ебля с синими бабами, фантазии нет уже?
Нононо, никакого секса. Вообще. Хотя иногда описывают как азари текут от человеческих мужчин, но это большая редкость. 18+ потому что там по всюду кровь кишки распидорасило.
ФемШепард постоянно кого-то размазывает по потолку, вырывает сердца, размазывает мозги и превращает в фарш псионикой, винтовкой и кулаком. Все таки генетически модифицированный человек в рукапашку и крогана может отпиздить.
Автор биолог и любит описывать гурятину.
>ну это же скучно. Где превознемогание? Без превознемогания это не fuck yeah
Сударь, это вам в другой тред надо. ТруЪ HFY это именно когда человечество круто. Прочитай хотя бы ОП тред:
"Сайфач, накидай годных научно-фантастических произведений где Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно, что менее развитые расы смотрят на людей как на Ктулху".
Если не хотите охуенно крутое человечество, то это вам в другой тред. Тут мы обсуждаем богоподобных людей на которых смотрят как на НЕХ. Да и людям там есть что превозмогать, нужно порешать жнецов. Они типа Великий Враг ради которого людишки и задрачиваются в лютую военку.
Данный же фанфик идеально подходит под реквест. Человечество тут самое настояние Ктулху.
Начал читать и сразу нахуй. Автор ведроеб, щедрой рукой раздающий ништяки кварианцам, а человеки - ктулхи уровня /b, сплошное мимими на арктурусе.
Почитал. Там человечество стронг, но нихерна не ктулхи, даже не ксенофобы. Просто люди с немного больше крутых технологий. Хуита короче. Плюс ладно азари - остальные там тоже школьники?
Попытка поднять тонущий тред
3 пик это рашка в будущем?
Да
Ну что ж вы, потомки. Я уже поступил и получил диплом, а переводы ещё не сделаны? Киньте ещё раз, что в первую очередь гуглтранслейтить, битте.
Так, первые два текста по Вулаи таки переведены, верно?
*Да Вуали, блядь.
Да.
Печально, что свежего контента нету.
Пиздец, я уже 2 года как отслужил, а первый раз в этот тред зашел когда постов 30 было. И он еще живой.
Сука, где вуаль в переводе прочитать?
Валялась в треде. Ищи по ключевому слову "безумие"
А хули ему в тематике будет?
Хорошая вещь, автор надеюсь не забросил?
Жаль только, что человеки там не доминируют и даже не устрашают.
Эх, проды бы к этому...
Нихуя себе! То есть берущие всех и вся под ментальный контроль псионикилюди не ктулхи?
Сука, да они же даже бафаются как сектоподы, блять.
Это охуенно. Особеноо паста про человечество.
Сделал перевод дико порадовавшей и вдохновившей меня пасты. В двух местах есть микроскопические дозы отсебятины чисто для гладкости изложения и последнее сообщение не переведено, потому что нерелейтед, а так - максимально близко к тексту. Пикрил - та паста на Энгрише, проскакивала здесь
========================================
Ты не думаешь позитивно, чувак. Конечно Импи защищает нас. Давно ты последний раз видел бесчинствующего демона варпа? Вот то-то же.
Недостаток чего-то, хотя бы близкого к пруфу, не останавливает ни одну из существующих религий.
Чтобы загнать что-то, ты должен сыграть на врождённых качествах человеческих душ.
Существующие религии говорят людям, что те слабы и грешны.
Ты скажи, что они благословенны и могущественны.
Укажи им на великие творения рук человеческих. Напомни, какие чудеса мы можем создавать, объединив усилия.
Учи их братству и единству, а не разобщённости.
Учи их силе и гордости, а не стыду за свою человеческую природу.
Покажи им небо и свет миллионов звёзд. Открой их предназначение.
Идти среди звёзд и укрощать их.
Ради Императора, хранящего нас - всегда.
Просто скажи им то, что они страсно хотят услышать. То, во что они в глубине своих душ всегда верили.
Религии нашего мира используют страх, чтобы порабощать своих жертв. Просто берут то, что естественно, и объявляют это злым или греховным.
Иисус говорит, что ты грешен без надежды на прощение, но в том нет твоей вины.
Император говорит - гордись.
Ты - человек, идеал тела и духа.
Ничто в мире не сравнится с тобой.
Любить, радоваться, злиться и даже ненавидеть - значит быть верным своей природе.
Быть человеком.
Христианство предлагает тебе стыд. Император - гордость за то, кто ты есть.
Аллах ждёт простого послушания, но что он даёт взамен?
Ничего, кроме покоя своей плети до тех пор, пока мы проявляем почтение.
Император просит верности, но только в его деле, в деле всего человечества - в построении лучшего будущего.
За это будущее он отдал всё.
Чем для своих последователей пожертвовал Аллах??
А эти индийцы и буддисты!
Они говорят нам, что мир есть страдание.
Что отказаться от надежд и желаний - лучшее, на что может надеяться человек.
Ложь. В каждом слове.
Будущее человечества - это звёзды. Это единство под всеми небесами, это созерцание чудес вселенной, лежащих перед ним. В каждом из нас есть нечто особенное. Искра жизни, радости и счастья. Человеческая душа, чистая и неосквернимая. Она сияет ярче, чем миллиард факелов во тьме, изгоняя прочь мрак неверия и уныния.
Никогда не слушай тех, кто говорит, будто жизнь есть страдание, а существование наше бессмысленно. На этом пути ждут лишь безумие и упадок.
Я несу вам, братья, послание, которые сейчас нужно больше, чем когда-либо. Суть этого послания проста, но оно должно быть услышано в каждом уголке земного шара, должно эхом отразиться от высочайших гор и тёмных пучин океанов.
Мы ЧЕЛОВЕЧЕСТВО.
У нас есть ПРЕДНАЗНАЧЕНИЕ.
МЫ БРАТЬЯ! Все мы.
Забудьте свои мелкие войны и разногласия ради борьбы, ждущей нас впереди - против Вселенной, увидившей наше величие, и в своём ужасе стремящейся уничтожить нас.
Мы можем объединиться, ибо Император показал нам путь вперёд.
Свободные от лжи фальшивых пророков, от ревнивых врунов, служащих умирающим богам, объединённые ради великой цели, что ждёт впереди.
Я знаю некоторых, для кого этих слов будет недостаточно. Страх и сомнение лежат тяжким грузом на их сердцах и душах. Это я говорю для них. Император смотрит за всеми. Он с нами каждое мгновение. Его сила - это наша сила. Ограждающая нас. Защищающая нас, пока мы свершаем Его святой труд. Смерть не имеет власти над слугами Императора, и когда мы умрём, мы встанем на страже у его трона, оберегая лучший мир, который помогли создать. Чего ещё желать человеку?
Позволь открыть тебе мои мечты, брат. Я мечтаю об ужасном Оке, о вместилище самого страшного зла, и я улыбаюсь. Ты спрашиваешь "Почему"? Потому что в этой всепоглощающей тьме я вижу звезду. Звезду более яркую, чем любая другая. Она растёт, и когда она растёт, тьма увядает. Звезда зовёт на бой. И тогда я вижу их. Сначала - ангелов. Верных душ, марширующих в унисон. И с каждым сделанным ими шагом демоны всё громче кричат в агонии. Потом я вижу Его армии. Его Космодесант. Его Инквизицию. Его Имперскую Гвардию. Объединённую мощь всего человечества, где живые идут вперёд рука об руку с мёртвыми. Затем я вижу самих Тёмных богов. И знаете что? Они в ужасе. Помните, чему нас учил Император: мы человечество, и ничто не может даже надеяться нас остановить.
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Ты не думаешь позитивно, чувак. Конечно Импи защищает нас. Давно ты последний раз видел бесчинствующего демона варпа? Вот то-то же.
Недостаток чего-то, хотя бы близкого к пруфу, не останавливает ни одну из существующих религий.
Чтобы загнать что-то, ты должен сыграть на врождённых качествах человеческих душ.
Существующие религии говорят людям, что те слабы и грешны.
Ты скажи, что они благословенны и могущественны.
Укажи им на великие творения рук человеческих. Напомни, какие чудеса мы можем создавать, объединив усилия.
Учи их братству и единству, а не разобщённости.
Учи их силе и гордости, а не стыду за свою человеческую природу.
Покажи им небо и свет миллионов звёзд. Открой их предназначение.
Идти среди звёзд и укрощать их.
Ради Императора, хранящего нас - всегда.
Просто скажи им то, что они страсно хотят услышать. То, во что они в глубине своих душ всегда верили.
Религии нашего мира используют страх, чтобы порабощать своих жертв. Просто берут то, что естественно, и объявляют это злым или греховным.
Иисус говорит, что ты грешен без надежды на прощение, но в том нет твоей вины.
Император говорит - гордись.
Ты - человек, идеал тела и духа.
Ничто в мире не сравнится с тобой.
Любить, радоваться, злиться и даже ненавидеть - значит быть верным своей природе.
Быть человеком.
Христианство предлагает тебе стыд. Император - гордость за то, кто ты есть.
Аллах ждёт простого послушания, но что он даёт взамен?
Ничего, кроме покоя своей плети до тех пор, пока мы проявляем почтение.
Император просит верности, но только в его деле, в деле всего человечества - в построении лучшего будущего.
За это будущее он отдал всё.
Чем для своих последователей пожертвовал Аллах??
А эти индийцы и буддисты!
Они говорят нам, что мир есть страдание.
Что отказаться от надежд и желаний - лучшее, на что может надеяться человек.
Ложь. В каждом слове.
Будущее человечества - это звёзды. Это единство под всеми небесами, это созерцание чудес вселенной, лежащих перед ним. В каждом из нас есть нечто особенное. Искра жизни, радости и счастья. Человеческая душа, чистая и неосквернимая. Она сияет ярче, чем миллиард факелов во тьме, изгоняя прочь мрак неверия и уныния.
Никогда не слушай тех, кто говорит, будто жизнь есть страдание, а существование наше бессмысленно. На этом пути ждут лишь безумие и упадок.
Я несу вам, братья, послание, которые сейчас нужно больше, чем когда-либо. Суть этого послания проста, но оно должно быть услышано в каждом уголке земного шара, должно эхом отразиться от высочайших гор и тёмных пучин океанов.
Мы ЧЕЛОВЕЧЕСТВО.
У нас есть ПРЕДНАЗНАЧЕНИЕ.
МЫ БРАТЬЯ! Все мы.
Забудьте свои мелкие войны и разногласия ради борьбы, ждущей нас впереди - против Вселенной, увидившей наше величие, и в своём ужасе стремящейся уничтожить нас.
Мы можем объединиться, ибо Император показал нам путь вперёд.
Свободные от лжи фальшивых пророков, от ревнивых врунов, служащих умирающим богам, объединённые ради великой цели, что ждёт впереди.
Я знаю некоторых, для кого этих слов будет недостаточно. Страх и сомнение лежат тяжким грузом на их сердцах и душах. Это я говорю для них. Император смотрит за всеми. Он с нами каждое мгновение. Его сила - это наша сила. Ограждающая нас. Защищающая нас, пока мы свершаем Его святой труд. Смерть не имеет власти над слугами Императора, и когда мы умрём, мы встанем на страже у его трона, оберегая лучший мир, который помогли создать. Чего ещё желать человеку?
Позволь открыть тебе мои мечты, брат. Я мечтаю об ужасном Оке, о вместилище самого страшного зла, и я улыбаюсь. Ты спрашиваешь "Почему"? Потому что в этой всепоглощающей тьме я вижу звезду. Звезду более яркую, чем любая другая. Она растёт, и когда она растёт, тьма увядает. Звезда зовёт на бой. И тогда я вижу их. Сначала - ангелов. Верных душ, марширующих в унисон. И с каждым сделанным ими шагом демоны всё громче кричат в агонии. Потом я вижу Его армии. Его Космодесант. Его Инквизицию. Его Имперскую Гвардию. Объединённую мощь всего человечества, где живые идут вперёд рука об руку с мёртвыми. Затем я вижу самих Тёмных богов. И знаете что? Они в ужасе. Помните, чему нас учил Император: мы человечество, и ничто не может даже надеяться нас остановить.
Бляяяядь, опять отклелилось!
"Мы человечество: смотри на дело рук наших и трепещи"
Но картиночки мы, блядь, по два раза подряд теряем, ага.
Если ты что-то делаешь для чего-то - ты несвободен. Переводи потому, что захотел, а не "нахуя".
Но за сыну-корзину всегда хочет мамка.
Пасту принёс.
Фантастическая дивноэпопея "КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ, или Превозмогание уровня ТЭТ". Предыстория: На небольшую колонию людей Кадия с населением 97 млрд нападает огромный Вааагх! орков. Несмотря на протесты оркозащитных организаций, половину сбивает автоматизированная система обороны планеты, высадившихся рвут на части боевые киборги. Три титана класса "Кастигатор" ебашат гаргантов как волкодавы щенков таксы. Бой проходит на расстоянии пяти сотен миль от мегаполиса, люди наблюдают за действом в голографическом интернете и ловят лулзы. Через 5 часов с центральной колонии прибывают три боевых корабля: "КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ", "Созвездие Плеяд" и "Дискавери".
- Капитан, просыпайтесь, мы вышли из варпа, - раздался приятный, отдающий «металлом» голос ИИ звездолета. - Эммм, да, да... Клинок бесконечности, а что дальше делать? Ну, ты же знаешь, я только так, посмотреть. И да, позови Кэтрин, она где, опять на голопалубе загорает на тропическом пляже? - Так точно, капитан, ваша подруга в данный момент находится на голопалубе. Желаете известить ее о прибытии? - Да ладно, наверное нет, пусть позагорает, ей эти войнушки обычно неинтересны. Ну что, как они там, рядом? Долго еще? - Корабли чужих находятся в зоне поражения непосредственно после момента выхода в реальное пространство, капитан. Прикажете выйти из режима маскировки и атаковать их? - Ну, не знаю. В принципе делай что хочешь, только что бы покрасочнее было, покрасивее! И реплицируй мне мороженого с шоколадным сиропом! Горячий чай! И фруктовый салат! - Так точно, капитан. Ваш чай, капитан, - прямо в руке у 20-летнего парня появилась слегка подсвечивающаяся розовым и салатовым тарелка с фруктами, а на прозрачном столике-дисплее слева от кровати - стакан с красным чаем и чашка с абрикосовым мороженым. "Клинок Бесконечности" передал рекомендации командира на полностью автоматизированные "Созвездие Плеяд" и "Дискавери". Красивые светло-белые, с серебристым отблеском боевые корабли выстроились в боевое построение; каждый из закрытых ангаров телепортировал на расстояние до 20 миль от корпуса по семь десятков набитых вооружением дронов-истрибителей. - Начинаем атаку, капитан. Приятного простора, - вокруг молодого командира возник голографический 3D-экран с красивым видом на будущее поле боя, воспроизводящий в максимально впечатляющих данного человека(технологий находила максимально точный подход к предпочтениям любого индивидуума) ракурсах - обычно выходило что-то на подобии красивого онлайн-ролика с видом от третьего лица. Корабли внезапно сбросили маскировку в сотне миль от гигантского флота орков , до сих пор безуспешно пытавшегося подавить орбитальную систему обороны колонии. Орудийные слоты звездолетов засветились светло-голубым, и из них вырвались цельные искрящиеся лучи. Одно попадание - один уничтоженный «круза» орков. Холодную пустоту космоса будто исполосовали десятки орудийных фазеров, каждое попадание которых отдавалось взрывом корабля чужих на орбите. Буквально за несколько минут флот врагов превратился в целые тучи роящихся в невесомости обломков; дроны тоже вели - вортексными торпедами, наноиглами, лучами послабее, в большей мере уничтожая небольшие корабли орков. Исполинский космический скиталец, под завязку напичканный примитивными орудиями орков, ИИ "КЛИНКА БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ" оставил под конец - в качестве своеобразного "десерта" своему молодому и ленивому, любящему подобные развлечения капитану. Игнорируя настоящий ливень из снарядов орочьих орудий(струнные щиты были в состоянии выдерживать подобный обстрел в течении десятков минут), корабли на полной импульсной скорости подлетели почти вплотную ко главной обители инопланетян - их разделяло не более трех миль. - Желаете лично активировать гравитационный проектор, капитан? Отпив немного чая и заев это ложкой мороженного, капитан утвердительно промычал. В воздухе появилось светло-зеленое изображение отпечатка руки, на которое он не преминул нажать. Космический скиталец задрожал. Раздался низкий, утробный скрежет и рокот исполинской массы сжимаемых камней и металла(бортовой компьютер генерировал для своего капитана специальную озвучку во время подобных боев в космическом вакууме: в свое время он был очень раздосадован полной тишиной в одной из битв, и ИИ услужливо подбирал максимально красивые и эпические эффекты). Скиталец искорежило, будто он состоял из фольги - фольги, которую медленно сжимала, сминала гигантская невидимая рука. Вскоре от грозного корабля-астероида зеленокожих осталась только небольшая сфера сверхплотной материи и целые облака пыли, песка и мелких камушков. - Это было классно, "Клинок Бесконечности"! - И чем тебе так нравится это все? Садистские наклонности, не иначе, - Кэтрин уже около минуты была в комнате, но засмотревшийся на "представление" Шейн только заметил ее. - Да ладно тебе, круто же! - улыбнулся капитан, - «КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ», ты молодец! Теперь отошли стандартное сообщение на эту колонию и летим к той океанской планетке, хочу успеть на вечеринку в Хуаньяне. А, да - и те две тостера тоже отпусти, пусть назад к Нью-Орегону летят, скажи что они тоже красавцы и молодцы! Но не настолько, как ты, само собой! - Так точно, капитан. Благодарю вас, капитан. Ярко сверкнув дальними двигателями, блестящая, светло-серебристая махина двухмильного звездолета с грацией гепарда рванула вперед и будто занырнула в мгновенно созданный впереди варп-разлом, примеру чего последовали "Дискавери" и "Созвездие Плеяд".
Молодой капитан был доволен. Теперь у него есть новая кулстори, которую он может рассказать друзьям на Нью-Орегоне и даже отцу на Старой Земле. Все было хорошо. И только на ранее безэмоциональном, сероватом, состоящем из искусственных тканей лицевом фрагменте одного из ремонтных роботов-андроидов, наблюдавшего за происходящим через сеть и старавшегося лишний раз не отвлекать членов экипажа, появилось странное выражение. Кривая, злая, насмешливая ухмылка…
Фантастическая дивноэпопея "КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ, или Превозмогание уровня ТЭТ". Предыстория: На небольшую колонию людей Кадия с населением 97 млрд нападает огромный Вааагх! орков. Несмотря на протесты оркозащитных организаций, половину сбивает автоматизированная система обороны планеты, высадившихся рвут на части боевые киборги. Три титана класса "Кастигатор" ебашат гаргантов как волкодавы щенков таксы. Бой проходит на расстоянии пяти сотен миль от мегаполиса, люди наблюдают за действом в голографическом интернете и ловят лулзы. Через 5 часов с центральной колонии прибывают три боевых корабля: "КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ", "Созвездие Плеяд" и "Дискавери".
- Капитан, просыпайтесь, мы вышли из варпа, - раздался приятный, отдающий «металлом» голос ИИ звездолета. - Эммм, да, да... Клинок бесконечности, а что дальше делать? Ну, ты же знаешь, я только так, посмотреть. И да, позови Кэтрин, она где, опять на голопалубе загорает на тропическом пляже? - Так точно, капитан, ваша подруга в данный момент находится на голопалубе. Желаете известить ее о прибытии? - Да ладно, наверное нет, пусть позагорает, ей эти войнушки обычно неинтересны. Ну что, как они там, рядом? Долго еще? - Корабли чужих находятся в зоне поражения непосредственно после момента выхода в реальное пространство, капитан. Прикажете выйти из режима маскировки и атаковать их? - Ну, не знаю. В принципе делай что хочешь, только что бы покрасочнее было, покрасивее! И реплицируй мне мороженого с шоколадным сиропом! Горячий чай! И фруктовый салат! - Так точно, капитан. Ваш чай, капитан, - прямо в руке у 20-летнего парня появилась слегка подсвечивающаяся розовым и салатовым тарелка с фруктами, а на прозрачном столике-дисплее слева от кровати - стакан с красным чаем и чашка с абрикосовым мороженым. "Клинок Бесконечности" передал рекомендации командира на полностью автоматизированные "Созвездие Плеяд" и "Дискавери". Красивые светло-белые, с серебристым отблеском боевые корабли выстроились в боевое построение; каждый из закрытых ангаров телепортировал на расстояние до 20 миль от корпуса по семь десятков набитых вооружением дронов-истрибителей. - Начинаем атаку, капитан. Приятного простора, - вокруг молодого командира возник голографический 3D-экран с красивым видом на будущее поле боя, воспроизводящий в максимально впечатляющих данного человека(технологий находила максимально точный подход к предпочтениям любого индивидуума) ракурсах - обычно выходило что-то на подобии красивого онлайн-ролика с видом от третьего лица. Корабли внезапно сбросили маскировку в сотне миль от гигантского флота орков , до сих пор безуспешно пытавшегося подавить орбитальную систему обороны колонии. Орудийные слоты звездолетов засветились светло-голубым, и из них вырвались цельные искрящиеся лучи. Одно попадание - один уничтоженный «круза» орков. Холодную пустоту космоса будто исполосовали десятки орудийных фазеров, каждое попадание которых отдавалось взрывом корабля чужих на орбите. Буквально за несколько минут флот врагов превратился в целые тучи роящихся в невесомости обломков; дроны тоже вели - вортексными торпедами, наноиглами, лучами послабее, в большей мере уничтожая небольшие корабли орков. Исполинский космический скиталец, под завязку напичканный примитивными орудиями орков, ИИ "КЛИНКА БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ" оставил под конец - в качестве своеобразного "десерта" своему молодому и ленивому, любящему подобные развлечения капитану. Игнорируя настоящий ливень из снарядов орочьих орудий(струнные щиты были в состоянии выдерживать подобный обстрел в течении десятков минут), корабли на полной импульсной скорости подлетели почти вплотную ко главной обители инопланетян - их разделяло не более трех миль. - Желаете лично активировать гравитационный проектор, капитан? Отпив немного чая и заев это ложкой мороженного, капитан утвердительно промычал. В воздухе появилось светло-зеленое изображение отпечатка руки, на которое он не преминул нажать. Космический скиталец задрожал. Раздался низкий, утробный скрежет и рокот исполинской массы сжимаемых камней и металла(бортовой компьютер генерировал для своего капитана специальную озвучку во время подобных боев в космическом вакууме: в свое время он был очень раздосадован полной тишиной в одной из битв, и ИИ услужливо подбирал максимально красивые и эпические эффекты). Скиталец искорежило, будто он состоял из фольги - фольги, которую медленно сжимала, сминала гигантская невидимая рука. Вскоре от грозного корабля-астероида зеленокожих осталась только небольшая сфера сверхплотной материи и целые облака пыли, песка и мелких камушков. - Это было классно, "Клинок Бесконечности"! - И чем тебе так нравится это все? Садистские наклонности, не иначе, - Кэтрин уже около минуты была в комнате, но засмотревшийся на "представление" Шейн только заметил ее. - Да ладно тебе, круто же! - улыбнулся капитан, - «КЛИНОК БЕСКОНЕЧНОСТИ», ты молодец! Теперь отошли стандартное сообщение на эту колонию и летим к той океанской планетке, хочу успеть на вечеринку в Хуаньяне. А, да - и те две тостера тоже отпусти, пусть назад к Нью-Орегону летят, скажи что они тоже красавцы и молодцы! Но не настолько, как ты, само собой! - Так точно, капитан. Благодарю вас, капитан. Ярко сверкнув дальними двигателями, блестящая, светло-серебристая махина двухмильного звездолета с грацией гепарда рванула вперед и будто занырнула в мгновенно созданный впереди варп-разлом, примеру чего последовали "Дискавери" и "Созвездие Плеяд".
Молодой капитан был доволен. Теперь у него есть новая кулстори, которую он может рассказать друзьям на Нью-Орегоне и даже отцу на Старой Земле. Все было хорошо. И только на ранее безэмоциональном, сероватом, состоящем из искусственных тканей лицевом фрагменте одного из ремонтных роботов-андроидов, наблюдавшего за происходящим через сеть и старавшегося лишний раз не отвлекать членов экипажа, появилось странное выражение. Кривая, злая, насмешливая ухмылка…
ХУЛЕ ТЫ УМЕР БЛЯДЬ А НУ ПРОСНИСЬ ВО СЛАВУ ИМПЕРАТОРА
АВЕ ИМПЕРАТОР
КОНТЕМПТ ИЗ МАЙ АРМОР
ДИСГАСТ ИЗ МАЙ ШИЛД
ХЕЙТРЕД ИЗ МАЙ СВОРД
ИН ЗЕ НЕЙМ ОФ ЗЕ ЭМПЕРОР ЛЕТ НОН СУРВАЙВ
Ю АР АЛРЕДИ ЭТ ФУЛЛ КОК НАУ
СПРЭД АЛЛ ОВЭР ЗЭ ПЛЭЙС ЗЭ ЭМПАЙР
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqHj6q5J5r4
Бамп
Судя по всему человечество не может существовать дальше в своем изначальном виде. Нужно "Вознесение". Знаете какие-нибудь произведения о доминировании постчеловечеста?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=5&v=O1CQ7Vwz8Eo
В Стелларисе это можно самому обыграть при желании
В Стелларисе это можно самому обыграть при желании
~~Cadia stands!~~
Сайфаны, я что-то не понял - а помянутый в оп-посте "Инцидент Пандора", что, на русский не переведён? Неужели настолько говно?
Сайфаны, я что-то не понял - а помянутый в оп-посте "Инцидент Пандора", что, на русский не переведён? Неужели настолько говно?
Ебаная макакоразметка, я забыл, как работает страйк.
Бамп вопросу. Ну же, неужели все старожилы перемерли?
Ты нахуй тут радиотишину нарушаешь?
https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/
https://www.reddit.com/r/hfy/wiki/ref/classics
Дохуя и больше HFY рассказов, особенно рекоммендую Chrysalis
https://www.reddit.com/r/hfy/wiki/ref/classics
Дохуя и больше HFY рассказов, особенно рекоммендую Chrysalis
Кинь ссылку плес, а то я не нашёл
После Лю Цысиня этот тред читать даже не смешно.
Напомните новлеку-гаремник про инопланетных синих дев-воительниц с реверсивной половой динамикой и бедного пилота-попаданца. Сюжет помню полз со скоростью мухи, но вангую хуманити фак е там уже галактическую цивилизацию буквально хуем завоевало.
Ой, да ладно, книги по теме что ли кончились? Ну аноны, покидайте хотя бы фанфиков на тему (в отчаянии)
Ой, да ладно, книги по теме что ли кончились? Ну аноны, покидайте хотя бы фанфиков на тему (в отчаянии)
Только что прочитал. Идея хорошая и написано нормально, но весь текст так и пропитан инфантильностью и дружбомагией. Очень жаль, что хорошая идея опять загублена дерьмовой реализацией.
Годнота, даже мамке посоветовал, лол
>Chrysalis
Огонь просто
Черт, уже второй день думаю, вот достали ДНК человека из черепа, вот вырастили в исскуственной матке, а дальше что? Куча симбиотической флоры и файны отсутствует. А без нее боюсь человечек не заведется, можно было бы заменить нанохуероботами, но блять мы до сих пор не знаем всего про них, а по днк это хуй зареверсишь. А на Земле их наверное не наскребешь, разве что люди законсервировали людей и биоту нормально.
Если у тебя уровень биотехнологий достиг возрождения людей из их днк, то ты без проблем можешь сделать такой рацион, что микрофлора не потребуется. А восстановить её из днк самого человека не возможно, это отдельные организмы
https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/5jyqnn/human_power_systems/
Taken from “A Life in the Diplomatic Corps” the autobiography of Trekin Kesk
I met the humans shortly after the Krackticcon incident. Though it's never been officially confirmed for me I think the two things were related. I think after the, um, events I relate surrounding the psychological assessment that followed Krackticcon the head office decided I needed a bit of a break and my posting to the joint Human Veeeetin colonization effort of M-1830q was intended to be that break.
By that point, humans had been a part of galactic civilization for about 3/4ths of one of their generations, and a signatory of the articles of confederation for 2/3rds of that time. They first encountered other species when they built their own terminus station and the Glaxx connected to it before they could ship their own remote end to another star and fire it up. It was a shock for them, of course, but since they had the same plateau level tech as everyone else in the galaxy, and they knew an interplanetary war couldn't possibly be waged through a terminus they got over it pretty quickly.
I always liked human adaptability.
On M-1830q they were putting their very best face forward. They sent a crew of colonists who had been carefully vetted for relevant skills and exemplary citizenship. The Veeeetin, of course, are the Veeeetin, so we weren't expecting any diplomatic incidents. The embassy was mostly proforma and for the first couple of years, I was able to relax in my villa occasionally doing routine paperwork while our stalwart crew of colonists did the hard work of taming a new world for civilization.
The first time I was truly needed was three years in (by which time I really was feeling better!) when the Veeeetin minister of technology burst into my villa in the middle of the night positively raging. His antennae were rigid, his eyes jittered in their sockets, and his carapace was flushed magenta. By way of greeting, he yelled, "The humans say they're going to build a fusion reactor, and they want to budget billions of credits for it!"
"What? What's fusion? Why's it bad?"
"Fusion is what powers stars. Two atoms combine into a single heavier atom and a little bit of mass is released as energy. The humans want to build a fusion power plant. They say it will take care of the plant's energy needs until the population is at roughly 64 times its current level." During this explanation, the minister waved his pseudo-feet around so much he almost hit me five times.
"Alright, that sounds like a good idea and cost effective if it lasts half as long as they say. Why don't we let them?"
"Because it's impossible! Every race discovers fusion. Every race decides it's a great power source. Every race spends decades or even centuries trying to make it work, and every race eventually learns it just can't be done. This is some sort of human scam!"
I managed to calm the minister down, mostly by asking him technical questions. Take note, dear reader, technical experts love to talk tech. It is as soothing to them as mother's reembark. By the end of our conversation, he was no longer ready to strangle the human secretary of infrastructure, and I had a basic grasp of the problem. It's apparently quite easy to start and contain a fusion reaction in a gravitic or magnetic bottle but powering the bottle takes more energy than the reaction produces. If you try to hold it together with just lasers you'll find the wave-particle duality makes that too unpredictable. If you chase more efficient lasers, magnets, or grav emitters you'll find they just don't exist. In short, if you'd like fusion power, start with a great big ball of hydrogen floating in space.
I scheduled a meeting with the human Secretary of Infrastructure.
~ ~ ~
"Well sure, all that's true," Mike said scratching at his beard. "But you're talking about traditional fusion! We want to build a pulsed fusion plant."
"Pulsed fusion?"
"Right. In the terms you've just used, we get around the whole 'takes more power to sustain and stabilize than you get out,' thing by not doing either. Instead, we use a fission reaction to trigger a pulse of fusion that just runs its course and dies out. The energy isn't fed directly into the next cycle, though in a round about way it eventually gets there."
I nodded sagely even though I wasn't sure I'd grasped everything the human said, "Sounds sensible. You should explain that in your proposal."
"I did."
"And the Veeeetin didn't belive you?"
"They said I was a nut and no one else has technology like that."
I nodded again, "I suppose it must be rare if they haven't heard of it, still just dig up a few examples and we should be able to put this whole thing behind us."
Mike shook his head, “I think they’re right about only humans having the tech.”
That made my sonar box tighten, and for the first time, I considered that the humans might really be up to the oldest scam in the book: new technology. There is no such thing, dear reader. If someone tries to sell you technology scavenged from an ancient ship, or imported from a new and distant race, or kept secret by some government show them the door! Galactic civilization has existed for billions of years, and it spans tens of billions of worlds. All that can be known is known.
I was about to angrily explain that to the Secretary when he said the one thing that could have cut me off, "Would you like to see it in action."
~ ~ ~
During our descent from space, the human homeworld certainly looked like the place a race of extraordinary engineers might live. They had more terminus gates in orbit than some races that have been in the confederacy for thousands of years, and dozens of beanstalks stretched to orbit allowing continuous streams of traffic to flow too and from space. Almost as tall as those beanstalks were the human mega-structures: skyscrapers and city-buildings that stood tall above the clouds which swirled around their bases.
Still, I had to assume I was in the midst of some misunderstanding, or even scam, until I noticed one particular feature of the planet, "Where are all of your farms?"
"Huh," Mike responded, then he seemed to realize what he was asking, "Oh! You were expecting to see old style fields, I bet. We don't have those anymore."
"If you think about it, traditional farming is just a form of solar power. Plants soak up sunlight and store it as sugar. Solar electric power was tried before pulsed fusion, but it took up too much area and required too much infrastructure to be especially effective. Once pulsed fusion really got going it proved so efficient we began to genetically engineer our crops to synthesize sugar from electrical current. The farms are all inside now, and that has allowed us to return much of the surface area of the planet to wilderness. Nice, a?"
~ ~ ~
As a safety feature, the human power plant was built in the caldera of an extinct volcano out in one of the world's oceans. They'd proposed something similar for M-1830q. That was the one part of the plan no one had objected to. Still, I wouldn't have recognized it for a mountain at all without Mike's explanation. It mostly looked like a single, enormous, and incredibly durable building.
We were waved through layer after layer of security to the very heart of the power plant, the observation deck over the main reaction chamber. It was an extraordinary sight, one of the more amazing things my diplomatic career gave me access to. Below us stretched an enormous underground lake. It should have been dark and forboding, except the entire cavern was awash in the scintillation of Cherenkov radiation. It immediately put me in mind of some fae pool deep underground, filled with roots and magic, directly out of my people's legends.
It also put me in mind of the radiation dosages badge a security guard had pinned to my sash at the outer door of the plant. That was fortunately still light colored.
Mike must have seen me looking because he said, "Don't worry. We're well sealed away from the radiation here. There's actually two lakes. The lower one is the reaction chamber. It's about as hot as you'd expect for the main reactor of a nuclear plant that feeds power to the entire eastern seaboard; that water actually functions as a breeder reactor. The upper lake is seawater pumped directly up from the floor of the ocean. It's clean, cold, and blocking any errant high energy particles. All the wires you see stretching up out of it are thermocouples, that's how we make the electricity."
"Pulse in t-minus 60," a loud human voice stated over the intercom system.
"Darken your visor," Mike said.
"My what," I asked fumbling at the contraption the humans had fitted over my head earlier.
"Pulse in t-minus 30."
"Quickly!" Mike sounded agitated, then he reached up and poked something on the side of my head. The world went dark, which was a little unsettling though I still had my sonar.
"Pulse in t-minus 20."
"Sorry about that. The human visors are all radio controlled, but yours is a bit ad-hoc. You have to press the button. The light from the power pulse would have damaged your eyes without protection."
"Pulse in t-minus 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!"
The world, even through my visor, vanished in a wash of all-pervading white and I suddenly knew what the humans meant by pulsed fusion power.
"Pulse complete," the speakers announced.
I punched my visor back to clear and gave Mike my very best glare. "That was a thermonuclear bomb!"
Mike grimaced painfully. "No, no, absolutely not! Please don't call it that. A bomb is a weapon. The fusion pellets are safe and completely sustainable components of a peaceful power generation system."
I continued to glare, "And what, precisely, is the yield of one of those pellets?"
Mike scratched his head and looked uncomfortable, "Less than 50 megatons."
~ ~ ~
We did eventually let them build it. Mind you, the permit process occasionally made me think back to the Krackticcon incident with fondness. But, still, it got through. How many races have dreamed of fusion power? It'll eventually revolutionize everything.
А проект, кстати, реальный - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_PACER
Taken from “A Life in the Diplomatic Corps” the autobiography of Trekin Kesk
I met the humans shortly after the Krackticcon incident. Though it's never been officially confirmed for me I think the two things were related. I think after the, um, events I relate surrounding the psychological assessment that followed Krackticcon the head office decided I needed a bit of a break and my posting to the joint Human Veeeetin colonization effort of M-1830q was intended to be that break.
By that point, humans had been a part of galactic civilization for about 3/4ths of one of their generations, and a signatory of the articles of confederation for 2/3rds of that time. They first encountered other species when they built their own terminus station and the Glaxx connected to it before they could ship their own remote end to another star and fire it up. It was a shock for them, of course, but since they had the same plateau level tech as everyone else in the galaxy, and they knew an interplanetary war couldn't possibly be waged through a terminus they got over it pretty quickly.
I always liked human adaptability.
On M-1830q they were putting their very best face forward. They sent a crew of colonists who had been carefully vetted for relevant skills and exemplary citizenship. The Veeeetin, of course, are the Veeeetin, so we weren't expecting any diplomatic incidents. The embassy was mostly proforma and for the first couple of years, I was able to relax in my villa occasionally doing routine paperwork while our stalwart crew of colonists did the hard work of taming a new world for civilization.
The first time I was truly needed was three years in (by which time I really was feeling better!) when the Veeeetin minister of technology burst into my villa in the middle of the night positively raging. His antennae were rigid, his eyes jittered in their sockets, and his carapace was flushed magenta. By way of greeting, he yelled, "The humans say they're going to build a fusion reactor, and they want to budget billions of credits for it!"
"What? What's fusion? Why's it bad?"
"Fusion is what powers stars. Two atoms combine into a single heavier atom and a little bit of mass is released as energy. The humans want to build a fusion power plant. They say it will take care of the plant's energy needs until the population is at roughly 64 times its current level." During this explanation, the minister waved his pseudo-feet around so much he almost hit me five times.
"Alright, that sounds like a good idea and cost effective if it lasts half as long as they say. Why don't we let them?"
"Because it's impossible! Every race discovers fusion. Every race decides it's a great power source. Every race spends decades or even centuries trying to make it work, and every race eventually learns it just can't be done. This is some sort of human scam!"
I managed to calm the minister down, mostly by asking him technical questions. Take note, dear reader, technical experts love to talk tech. It is as soothing to them as mother's reembark. By the end of our conversation, he was no longer ready to strangle the human secretary of infrastructure, and I had a basic grasp of the problem. It's apparently quite easy to start and contain a fusion reaction in a gravitic or magnetic bottle but powering the bottle takes more energy than the reaction produces. If you try to hold it together with just lasers you'll find the wave-particle duality makes that too unpredictable. If you chase more efficient lasers, magnets, or grav emitters you'll find they just don't exist. In short, if you'd like fusion power, start with a great big ball of hydrogen floating in space.
I scheduled a meeting with the human Secretary of Infrastructure.
~ ~ ~
"Well sure, all that's true," Mike said scratching at his beard. "But you're talking about traditional fusion! We want to build a pulsed fusion plant."
"Pulsed fusion?"
"Right. In the terms you've just used, we get around the whole 'takes more power to sustain and stabilize than you get out,' thing by not doing either. Instead, we use a fission reaction to trigger a pulse of fusion that just runs its course and dies out. The energy isn't fed directly into the next cycle, though in a round about way it eventually gets there."
I nodded sagely even though I wasn't sure I'd grasped everything the human said, "Sounds sensible. You should explain that in your proposal."
"I did."
"And the Veeeetin didn't belive you?"
"They said I was a nut and no one else has technology like that."
I nodded again, "I suppose it must be rare if they haven't heard of it, still just dig up a few examples and we should be able to put this whole thing behind us."
Mike shook his head, “I think they’re right about only humans having the tech.”
That made my sonar box tighten, and for the first time, I considered that the humans might really be up to the oldest scam in the book: new technology. There is no such thing, dear reader. If someone tries to sell you technology scavenged from an ancient ship, or imported from a new and distant race, or kept secret by some government show them the door! Galactic civilization has existed for billions of years, and it spans tens of billions of worlds. All that can be known is known.
I was about to angrily explain that to the Secretary when he said the one thing that could have cut me off, "Would you like to see it in action."
~ ~ ~
During our descent from space, the human homeworld certainly looked like the place a race of extraordinary engineers might live. They had more terminus gates in orbit than some races that have been in the confederacy for thousands of years, and dozens of beanstalks stretched to orbit allowing continuous streams of traffic to flow too and from space. Almost as tall as those beanstalks were the human mega-structures: skyscrapers and city-buildings that stood tall above the clouds which swirled around their bases.
Still, I had to assume I was in the midst of some misunderstanding, or even scam, until I noticed one particular feature of the planet, "Where are all of your farms?"
"Huh," Mike responded, then he seemed to realize what he was asking, "Oh! You were expecting to see old style fields, I bet. We don't have those anymore."
"If you think about it, traditional farming is just a form of solar power. Plants soak up sunlight and store it as sugar. Solar electric power was tried before pulsed fusion, but it took up too much area and required too much infrastructure to be especially effective. Once pulsed fusion really got going it proved so efficient we began to genetically engineer our crops to synthesize sugar from electrical current. The farms are all inside now, and that has allowed us to return much of the surface area of the planet to wilderness. Nice, a?"
~ ~ ~
As a safety feature, the human power plant was built in the caldera of an extinct volcano out in one of the world's oceans. They'd proposed something similar for M-1830q. That was the one part of the plan no one had objected to. Still, I wouldn't have recognized it for a mountain at all without Mike's explanation. It mostly looked like a single, enormous, and incredibly durable building.
We were waved through layer after layer of security to the very heart of the power plant, the observation deck over the main reaction chamber. It was an extraordinary sight, one of the more amazing things my diplomatic career gave me access to. Below us stretched an enormous underground lake. It should have been dark and forboding, except the entire cavern was awash in the scintillation of Cherenkov radiation. It immediately put me in mind of some fae pool deep underground, filled with roots and magic, directly out of my people's legends.
It also put me in mind of the radiation dosages badge a security guard had pinned to my sash at the outer door of the plant. That was fortunately still light colored.
Mike must have seen me looking because he said, "Don't worry. We're well sealed away from the radiation here. There's actually two lakes. The lower one is the reaction chamber. It's about as hot as you'd expect for the main reactor of a nuclear plant that feeds power to the entire eastern seaboard; that water actually functions as a breeder reactor. The upper lake is seawater pumped directly up from the floor of the ocean. It's clean, cold, and blocking any errant high energy particles. All the wires you see stretching up out of it are thermocouples, that's how we make the electricity."
"Pulse in t-minus 60," a loud human voice stated over the intercom system.
"Darken your visor," Mike said.
"My what," I asked fumbling at the contraption the humans had fitted over my head earlier.
"Pulse in t-minus 30."
"Quickly!" Mike sounded agitated, then he reached up and poked something on the side of my head. The world went dark, which was a little unsettling though I still had my sonar.
"Pulse in t-minus 20."
"Sorry about that. The human visors are all radio controlled, but yours is a bit ad-hoc. You have to press the button. The light from the power pulse would have damaged your eyes without protection."
"Pulse in t-minus 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!"
The world, even through my visor, vanished in a wash of all-pervading white and I suddenly knew what the humans meant by pulsed fusion power.
"Pulse complete," the speakers announced.
I punched my visor back to clear and gave Mike my very best glare. "That was a thermonuclear bomb!"
Mike grimaced painfully. "No, no, absolutely not! Please don't call it that. A bomb is a weapon. The fusion pellets are safe and completely sustainable components of a peaceful power generation system."
I continued to glare, "And what, precisely, is the yield of one of those pellets?"
Mike scratched his head and looked uncomfortable, "Less than 50 megatons."
~ ~ ~
We did eventually let them build it. Mind you, the permit process occasionally made me think back to the Krackticcon incident with fondness. But, still, it got through. How many races have dreamed of fusion power? It'll eventually revolutionize everything.
А проект, кстати, реальный - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_PACER
тред, живи
Россия - страна за границей вуали безумия?
Сайфач, накидай годных научно-фантастических произведений где Человечество настолько сильно и охуенно, что менее развитые расы смотрят на людей как на Ктулху. И чтобы ГЕНОЦИД, УНИЧТОЖЕНИЕ ЭКОСИСТЕМЫ, ДОБЫЧА ИСКОПАЕМЫХ АБОРИГЕНЫ В КОНВУЛЬСИЯХ. Можно на английском.
Фанфики про то как на Пандору вторгается Империум - не предлагать.