Conquest of Paradise

For stories, roleplaying, or any other creative literary projects.
Post Reply
Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Sat Dec 12, 2020 9:59 pm

So, I started this story, being partially inspired by the reboot trend and also having been a fan of Earth final conflict. I always felt the driving force behind EFC wasn't so much the sci fi element, but the intrigue, the implied lore and the seemingly enigmatic and Machiavellian nature of the Taelons. As a result, this story will be an ode...to the wondrous characters of the first and second season.





Standard disclaimer applies, I own none of this, Roddenberry estate and the now defunct Tribune entertainment...yadda, yadda, yadda.



Chapter One: Francisco de Bobadilla
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes –

Virgil






December 24th, 2040



New York City.




Parade duty, Detective William “Billy” Boone thought to himself. Combat Veteran (then again so were three quarters of the cops on payroll), “Hero of the SI war” (Indo-Asian Theatre of the third world war). Trained in counter terrorism, criminal profiling, and a survivor of the “Siege of Beijing and the best damn detective in the NYPD but here he was, on parade duty. At least, that’s what he thought it was when the Protection Agency called Chief Pierce and asked (Re: demanded), Detective Boone take over security duty for the anniversary parade slash “grand speech”. It had to be parade duty, who the hell would try and assassinate one of them? In the ten years since they’d ended the Third World War with their arrival, they’d all but been deified.





Ten years, had it really been that long? Boone felt old (which was odd, given companion tech had been able produce a whole generation of centenarians who were hitting the gym like they were twenty somethings), but then again maybe that was the true downside to surviving a calamitous war? Society changed so much that forty-seven (which was supposedly the new twenty) felt like eighty-seven? The baby boom certainly did make him feel old, he’d gone from a man who dabbled in anti-natalist nonsense in his adolescence to having four sons with a woman ten years his junior. But then again, a war that causes the death of two billion people has a nasty habit of snapping one out of youthful arrogance. Above him, an immense holographic projection with the odd, baby green and purple infinity symbol of Doors International manifested a tall, gaunt man in his seventies who began to speak about the wonders of the Doors data sheet. A plastic monstrosity that was paper thin and slowly replacing tablets (Funny, he remembered before the war how tablets were supposed to be replaced with holotabs). Boone used one at work, it was basically a supercomputer you could roll up and swat at your dogs’ nose with. It was also adaptive when it came to viruses and trojans and it made the cyber division of law enforcement seethe as the damn things had the unfortunate side effect of making electronic surveillance a nightmare.





Old, old enough to remember the financial collapse of 07, old enough to remember his daddy’s church shuttering because the Coal plants were shut down and some dismissive loudmouthed politician who claimed to speak for “his community” told them all to learn to code. He didn’t say that, but he may as well have. Old enough to remember the, “secular cultist” nonsense and madness masquerading as social progress (And to have taken part in it), old enough to remember the consequences of such sanctimony and old enough to have been there and seen it.



It all changed when they came.





Which brought him back to the present, walking from one police plaza, hot dog happily in hand. Towards an elevated area raised a few dozen feet from the parking lot attached to a stairwell which looked like it had been “grown” out of the asphalt (It probably was). The new helipad for the rapid response units and, for the three purple and blue vehicles which rested seemingly floating an inch or so off the smooth plastic-steel alloy of the pad’s floor, those things were amazing. Affectionately called “grubs” since they sort of looked like a cross between a common house fly and larva, they were the shuttles used by the brass to get around city, to city, continent to continent for conferences or inter-continental law enforcement “operations”. Which was City Hall speak for “Our best Detective’s slum it in rat motels in another country while we get shitfaced in gentlemen’s clubs and look at us mystified when we tell them they’re jackals” the more things changed. Damn bug ships, Boone once said he’d rather row across the ocean like that little activist spaz claimed she’d done rather then get up in something that raped the laws of physics as a means of conveyance. Naturally, the third one was for him and Detective William Boone did his best not to eat his hot dog for a second time at the thought... Ahead of him, two uniformed Cops in their fifties were laughing and talking, Williams and Profacci “big and bigger” as they were called in the office. Who loomed like human zeppelins in front of him and were probably on their fifth lunch? Boone shook his head, five years ago Profacci was on the verge of liver failure due to his enormous weight. He’d been arthritic and suffered serious damage to his knees, had been riding a desk too. The technology they “gave” mankind, not only reversed his liver damage but ensured he now possessed the arteries, heart and cartilage of a man in the prime of his youth. So naturally Profacci lost just enough weight to qualify for street duty again and Williams soon followed.





“Ey! Billy boy!” Williams called, laughter in his voice. “You’re really gonna ride in that thing?” “Fastest way to get to Liberty Island.” Boone muttered, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t being asked to commit suicide by jumping in a living, bug monster that zoomed across the stars. “Ah, they ain’t so bad” Profacci said with a shit eating grin “I rode in one once, it was really smooth, like driving an antique Caddy, one of those DeVille models” “Bullshit Profacci” Boone muttered. “As if you could fit in either” all three men laughed and Profacci slapped Boone on the shoulder “Boys I think he’s turning white! That’s quite a feat given ya look like Wesley Snipes”



He did, Boone realized, which was amusing because his father was a sharecroppers son by a Cherokee-Irish mother even though his paternal grandfather came from freedmen stock and Boone’s own mom (and most of his sisters for that matter) looked like she belonged in a sword and sandal drama about the Roman conquest of Britain even though they were Haitian. He also realized; he was probably turning as white as his mom because he felt like he wanted to throw himself off the Chrysler building rather than jump aboard one of those damn things. “I heard they move seventy percent the speed of light” Boone griped “Its bad enough driving around with my wife in her Porsche” Boone, hated, hated speed. “Speaking of that, Rose got clocked doing 101 in that thing upstate, a new record”





Offff ccouuurrsseee…Boone thought.





“You big wuss! The damn things can’t go that fast, it’s impossible we’d get turned into soup” Williams lectured, as if he’d been piloting those flying maggots since he’d learned to walk. “Besides, wouldn’t the atmosphere catch on fire or something?”



“Yes, it totally can reach those speeds and no, it wouldn’t do either of those things because of the negation fields around my handsome boy!” The sing-song voice took the three men off guard and both turned towards a tall woman with pale skin and the blackest pair of eyes Big and Bigger had ever seen. She wore an old-world war one style bomber jacket over the black and silver uniforms of the Protection agency officers and a badge signifying her current Rank (and below it, her former Air Force Rank). Her dark black hair was in a ponytail and it trailed down to her rear, it had some streaks of charcoal gray, the only thing that really defined her age. “Major?” Boone asked, surprised to see the woman not only alive but looking about the same as the last time he’d seen her some twelve years ago. Lily Marquette, the first female fighter pilot to make “ace in a day” and a double ace at that, during her first combat mission in the war. “Captain now” she grinned “oh? They demoted you” she laughed “more like a promotion really. Captains in their military are like Generals in ours. Well, the closest thing they have to a Captain any way” she explained giving the Detective a hug “Been awhile Preacher”



“Preacher?!” Profacci asked with an amused smile. “It’s what I called him during the war. See Bill here, he rescued me from behind enemy lines when a transport I was in got shot down” her eyes sparkled with mischief when Boone muttered the oft repeated “shoulda let her fly the thing”. “Boone here’s a preacher’s son and apparently he flirted with not liking god for awhile and then found ‘em again during the war” “He didn’t?” “Preached to me the whole time his unit marched me back? Yeah, he did but it was sweet. It kept us inspired, especially when it came too messing with him” Both of the cops howled with laughter as Captain Marquette led Boone away towards the stairs. “Don’t worry, we won’t go above two hundred miles an hour I promise” she whispered causing the man’s eyes to go wide.

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Sat Dec 12, 2020 10:00 pm

Adrian De Moxica: El visionario resentido.


Ellis Island New York City:
December 24th, 2040





“Merry Christmas” “Merry Christmas” “Merry Christmas”



Godless heathens, they only said that because of the sky demons. He walked through the main registration hall, hands in his pockets, noticing the hundreds who’d packed into a building that had once served as a processing center for poor, destitute and lost. Those seeking a new life, those seeking a new world, those he’d been told his entire childhood and adolescence came here in hope only to have that hope dashed against a wall as foremen chained them to the press of exploitation. A couple passed him, he recognized the wife, in her youth she was a trans rights activist who’d been born Dianna but insisted on being called Darren. She’d taken, the hormones, grown the beard, cut her breasts off and was pivotal in pushing the “Parental compliance act” of 2022. The fallout from that legislative decision was almost as bad as the war itself. Reflexively, his left hand moved from his pocket and he reached up to scratch his shoulder, it itched again. Where the prosthetic met the flesh, it always itched. -One less thing to worry about after today- the man thought. “Merry Christmas” the woman, who once had been a woman pretending to be a man said. Funny, he remembers her wanting to criminalize that very phrase, arguing the first amendment didn’t apply when a public health concern overrode individual liberties. The sky demons must have fixed her, they’d fixed tens of thousands who’d been either pressured into transitioning during the “March forward” or groomed into it, or who’d had their bodies ravaged by the hormone drugs and surgeries and desperately wanted to feel “right” inside again.. She didn’t remember him, they never did. Or maybe she didn’t recognize him? They never do anymore, granted he looked very different now. Gaunt, feral, a near ash colored beard on a once clean-shaven face. Circles around his eyes black enough for him to be confused for a bandit from an old timey cartoon. Sometimes, he could see a glimmer of recognition in their eyes and then a hasty movement of said eyes to look away, to pretend like they didn’t recognize him. She’d changed too, in that she looked healthy, rejuvenated, she got her missing bits back.





Ten or twenty years ago, he might have seen that as a good thing, as a form of deliverance. Hell, he had seen it that way! But then he noticed the signs, he began to study his scripture again. And he realized, they weren’t angels at all, and this false deliverance was merely the forfeiture of will, not its resurrection. Twenty years ago, he defended a little girl in court who murdered her lesbian parents because they were convinced, she was really “an egg about to hatch into the son they always knew she was”. One of them was a woman, who also, thought she was a man, she was also an anarcho-Satanist or a Neo-Pagan Communist or some such nonsense. The girl in a panic, slashed her “father’s” throat and set fire to the house. In the chaos her baby brother was burned alive along with her other mother. A once prestigious attorney, Nathaniel Sykes took the case (despite how frighteningly cold the girls’ eyes were). Because he firmly, ardently believed in free will, he fought for it during that trial. Ate a bullet for it after he got his client acquitted, he marched in the free speech riots and was disbarred for punching a police officer at a rally. When the US finally joined the war, he enlisted because he wanted to continue that fight badly and, because by that point his livelihood dried up. He still remembered the look on the recruiter’s face when he showed up, gramps; his DI’s called him. He wasn’t that old, only forty-five. He was almost sixty now, he might have been a grandfather, he wasn’t sure. The Sky demons took his children from him too, he’d given his life to the fight and lost an arm in the service but when the war ended, only the new heroes were honored.





Only those, decreed from on high by the Sky Demons, those who bowed and smiled and pretended their supposed personal revelations were genuine and came from the human condition, the soul. Or those too ignorant to realize they were being manipulated, those puppets, the ignorant ones whom he could forgive for knowing not what they were doing. They still had to be martyred though, they still had to be sacrificed so. The veil needed to be lifted from mankind, they needed to see, and he would make them see. Cherry Christmas would be his funeral dirge,





Moving towards a maintenance closet the man picked up what would have looked like a harmless suitcase, he’d taken it up. Someone smiled pleasantly at him, dressed in gray, the Companion “adepts” those wastrels, former atheists or former fanatics of one religion or another who’d found a “spiritual awakening” in these idols. This would be done, it had to be done, his chest hurt again, that was okay too. There was poetry in that, a man with a broken heart, breaking the hearts of so many.





Once upstairs, the upper levels were indeed vacant, as the man promised they would be! Good, Sykes had been terribly anxious all the way up. There was even a nice, comfy chair prepared for him that would allow him to sit while he waited. Not that he’d be waiting very long, the ceremony was only a half hour away from beginning!



A merry Christmas indeed.

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Sat Dec 12, 2020 10:02 pm

Martin Alonzo Pinzon: La Navegadora Confiada.


Apó ta cheíli tou ta révmata ton léxeon étrechan pio glyká apó to méli - The Iliad.


……………….





“That doesn’t look so bad” Boone conceded as the “bugs” bulbous head like front seemed to warp open, revealing six rather spacious chairs and spots for a dozen other people to stand. The seating arrangement and the seatbelts themselves did indeed like something out of a classic luxury car. “huh, whaddya know, Profacci got something right for once” “Oh I designed the layout with people like him in mind, in the early days of the Agency we were ferrying people all over the world for our “Second Genesis project”. I argued that comfort was essential, especially when a pilot was stuck in a cockpit sometimes twenty hours straight” She gestured one of her pale hands out towards the expansive back “For cargo, but also because we can put this baby on cruise control and stretch our legs”



“So, it can pilot itself?”



“Not really” Marquette answered “These things are a bit like elephants, they need a leader and they need a “herd” they get, sick when pilots aren’t steering them, or when they aren’t used very often or they're alone for too long. It's why we don't allow people to buy them solo.” The look in Boone’s eyes made her laugh “There are drawbacks to biomechanical type tech, I’ll admit. The ships sing to you too! Sometimes, it responds to its primary pilots “smoother” as well. I mean it’ll always obey but it’s sort of...I dunno”



“Like a service dog?” Boone asked with a raised eyebrow and she nodded. “sort of, they’re about as smart as dogs too.” Suddenly, Boone didn’t want to sit down. Captain Marquette laughed again and punched his shoulder “If you don’t behave, you’re going to offend my ship and then he’ll misbehave”



“He?”



She shrugged “He reminds me of a mastiff I had as a kid, big boy, very dense but loyal and didn’t need much in the direction. He knew what you wanted him to do, Badger is the same way”



Badger, right. Of course she named him Badger.





As Boone took a seat, found the chair began to “shift” to accommodate for his seating needs and the man raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” Marquette laughed again and Boone let out an annoyed sigh, fine, he’ll man up and put up with “Badger”. As the “front” warped back into place, covering them in a frontal mirror which shimmered into being as the shuttle’s carapace shifted its make up to allow for a viewing port as a series of holographic controls appeared and Marquette reached up and flicked a few different switches. “Universal layout, designed it myself.”



Boone nodded slowly, if flyboys could understand this stuff that was cool, to him it just looked like a bunch of glowing lights. “So, what’s a General’s equivalent doing ferrying around a street cop?” Boone asked, trying to take his mind off the fact that the vessel was now off the ground fully and taking to the air, New York City resting below them now. New buildings rising from the ground denoting where the BDLC or Antifa turned whole sections of the financial district into smoldering ruins in their insane little gang war. It was easy to see why everyone loved the Companions, when they came mankind was on the verge of destroying itself. In ten short years, much of the environmental damage was reversed, cities that were ruins began to live again.





Even the eco-system began to thrive in ways it hadn’t in a long time. Marquette, allowed the shuttle to hover in the air, suspended above the city for a bit before she turned the shuttle towards the harbor. “I wanted to pick you up myself when I’d heard the big guy asked for you. Besides, I like flying.” She was chipper as always, that sunniness had seen her through a fight behind enemy lines, a two-week march through the ruins of the Chinese countryside until they’d found her and then another nine days through the darker parts. Boone dusted off his father’s old bible, in memory if not literally and he did so to help keep his men from losing it as they passed through small towns where people had taken to eating each other. Boone secretly thought it was her disposition that carried them through the ordeal, her pranks and lighthearted teasing of him. “Benefits of their antiaging drugs?” he finally asked, breaking the silence with a deliberately awkward question that had her roaring with laughter. “Damn preacher, you know just what to say to a lady huh?”



“S’what my wife tells me, she’s got me on the pills too” he grumbled that last bit out as if to say -damnit I’m not old- “Better to start taking them young and yes, members of the protection agency were the guinea pigs, I was actually a good deal older physically. Rad sickness didn’t help there. Too bad they didn’t come a few years earlier; I would have liked to have had another baby”



He remembered her grumbling about that, Lily was one of seven siblings, but she’d only been a mother of two. Lily was probably chronologically approaching sixty, but she looked about his age. “gray streaks an aesthetic now?”



The woman shook her head grinning “Naw, I’ve had them since I was twenty or so, family thing”



“Funny, I don’t remember them when we walked through China”



She barked out a laugh “That’s because I was covered in mud and dirt you tool”





“Fair enough” Boone laughed. Finally letting himself relax, flying in “Badger” wasn’t so bad. Or so he told himself as they began their approach of the Statue of Liberty. Boone was still honored Marquette asked to be the one to retrieve him, someone of her rank should have been ferrying one of the Companions, not him. Companions, Boone allowed the word to roll about in his head. It was so benign; of everything they could have referred to themselves as. That was one of the reasons why he didn’t embrace the skepticism of some of his CI’s and friends in city hall. But it was also why he shared his wife’s reluctance to embrace them fully, as a family the Boones didn’t idolize them, not the way so many did. In his experience, the experience of so many who lived through the violent social upheaval of the early twenty first century knew well enough that those who smiled and talked of common good could be just as evil as the loud mouthed bigot, or more so.

Things that smiled with a smile that never quite reached the eyes always bothered William Boone more than a smirk or a contemptuous sneer.

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Sat Dec 12, 2020 10:03 pm

John Rolfe; El visionario agradecido

Those who aim at great deeds must also suffer greatly. - Plutarch; attributed to Marcus Crassus.


December 24th 2040

Liberty Island New York City



.......................................



They exited to cheers and fanfare, something Boone was never comfortable with and Captain Marquette handled with the grace of a born politician. There were people from all over the world cheering, raising banners with flags, many from nations that didn’t even exist anymore. Boone did his best polite wave and quickly made his way down from the landing platform and hurried towards the other cops, Federal agents and Protectors, Marquette rushing down behind him, having stopped to give a quick shout to the crowd. “How are your kids anyway?” “Not so much kids anymore!” Marquette smiled she was a grandmother now, but that was a common thing now. In the wake of the war most people were having children, there was a feeling of emptiness in a world where two billion people were wiped off the map. It helped that a lot of the corporations left in the world were paying people bonuses for raising families. It helped that the Companions also encouraged this and the world seemed to march in lockstep with their council.





Ahead of them, a dozen members of SWAT stood at attention, both as honor guards and as an extra layer of protection. Boone wanted another thirty-armed officer’s present, but he was overruled. Thunder roared above them and Boone looked up, his eyes filled with alarm for a brief second until he saw that familiar wave of colors as a deluge of energy released and one of the grub shaped shuttles flew out seemingly nothingness, the crowd gasped. It took a buzz of the Island, circling once before landing to loud cheers from the crowd. The “front” warped, and a young woman exited the vehicle first, she was roughly thirty-six, though she looked closer to twenty. She had long golden-brown hair and copper colored skin, eyes that were an unnatural indigo and cold as ice. A cute face that wasn’t quite Asian, wasn’t quite Latin and wasn’t quite anything completed the look. Boone’s eyebrows arched slightly, he recognized that woman, he knew that woman! “Sandoval?!” his eyes flickered with shock. He met her during the fall of Shanghai, a child soldier in “Colonel” Liam Kincaid’s militia. The controversial “orphan” regiment became something of a topic among certain musical genres and some silly E-drama was made about their lives. His kids watched the show and always asked if it was accurate, he didn’t know, he’d only fought beside them once. Child soldiers and PMC’s always disgusted him, and Kincaid’s orphans were both. One thing was for sure, the show didn’t feature Elena Sandoval as per the woman’s request among other reasons. Exiting behind Sandoval was the tall, gaunt man with hard green eyes and thick white hair. Johnathan Doors, the man who “broke Silicon Valley” (which was a whole level of incorrect, Doors didn't just break it, he collapsed the entire economy of California out of a personal vendetta while he did it.). He’d started as a kid, working under the table for his uncle in a RadioShack in the early eighties and by nineteen eighty-eight he built a company that serviced powerlines and cables. From there, it was satellite communications, then logistics for mining. While Gates cornered the market on software and Apple fought Dell and Packer and IBM for domination of hardware in the nineteen nineties, Doors international was investing in mining, biosciences, medical equipment production and by the dawn of the twenty first century? Nuclear power.







Then he moved into the “smartphone” market, then software, then into social media and everywhere he went, he came out on top. He made hundreds of billions while companies crashed and burned, when the world itself burned his experimental med tech saved over a billion lives. He was a success story, the worlds first trillionaire. A philanthropist, pioneer, prophet, the father of two deceased war heroes and three living ones. Doors didn’t care about class, race, politics, nothing. All he cared about was “opening doors, the world over”, both literally and metaphorically. There were Doors international facilities in every surviving nation on earth and beyond. To Boone, who knew him because his wife was one of his lawyers, Doors was the smartest (and meanest) Wolf in the forest. The crowd cheered, he waved but the cheering died into a reverent silence as the next passenger exited the shuttle. Tall, androgynous and bald, possessing pasty, almost beige skin that seemed somewhat scale-like and silver-blue eyes, he, she? It? Was adorned in a purple skin suit, that shimmered and glowed, flowing with what Boone always thought were some sort of space LED’s but apparently, they were a food source? The being walked slowly, its pace almost flowing. Its hands moved, almost in a ritualistic like dancing gesture, its head quirked in a way that was at once human and at once disturbingly uncanny. Natural and unnatural all at once, the coloring of its suit he would later learn denoted the fact that it was once a legendary War Master who abandoned carnage to pursue diplomacy and “to continue politics by gentler means, discovering the path to peace if I am blessed”. Da’an, the American companion and the first extraterrestrial lifeform the world had never seen. He was a harbinger of peace, a deliverer, a savior, a god like entity from the stars who spoke the first alien words ever heard. Then again, the Aztec’s thought thusly of Hernan Cortez. As it edged closer to the podium the crowd was tense, hanging on its every gesture. When it finally reached the podium, its hands twitched for the last time and it spoke, a rolling, hissing, whispery, emotional language. “Ah’ya’arahama Vyyyaasshhh’vyyyleeeeee”





Whether intended or not, it sounded like a prayer.







“I speak to you on this monumental day as I did ten of your years ago, in my native tongue. For there is no proper sequence of words in your languages to convey the intensity of the pride and humility that we Taelons feel as we observe the progress our two species have made together”. The crowd remained silent, hanging on every word, many nodding in unison. Boone edged closer to the podium, his instincts telling him to pay attention, telling him that nothing this monotonous was ever safe. Something was going to explode, he didn’t know what, nor did he know why.



But William Boone’s instincts were never, ever wrong.



An Island away a man pulled a small box about the size of an old gaming console out of the bag, a press of a button caused the cube to disassemble, coming apart into dozens of smaller tiles and then reorganizing itself into a long barreled rifle with a sophisticated scope, a visual of the target projected into the lawyer turned vagrant’s eyes. -I see you, sky demon, speaking in your demon tongue-, he leaned forward, butt placed firmly against his shoulder, finger on the trigger. “As easy as shooting an airsoft” the man said, it was, the gun was supposed to be a handheld artillery cannon. He’d always been a big supporter of the second amendment, the Sky Demons were as well. That was one more thing he loved that they robbed from him, his enthusiasm for firearms and firearm advocacy. He had to sell his collection before the war just to pay attorney’s fees for all the good that did him, he promised he’d buy them back but that never happened. One more personal defeat inflicted by those repellent bastards. “Sky Demons” he muttered in a hate filled voice.



An island away, a being from the stars continued its speech. “When we first came to your world, a decade ago, we saw the scars from your horrendous conflict from space, we felt across the psychic void of mind-space the myriad deaths. We perceived the exhaustion in the air, the degradation not just of humanity’s cradle but of your noble spirits as well. In time, we learned of the calamitous social strife that contributed to your global conflict, we felt the yearning of your souls and came bringing with us understanding and hope.” The crowd erupted in cheers of gratitude calls of thanksgiving and prayers of well wishes. The Companion continued “In the intervening years between then and now, our two species have restored your atmosphere. Your forests which burned so in wars, are flourishing and green again and though much of Asia and Europe still lie in ruin our efforts have returned life the coast of what was once the ancient nation of China. We have been touched by the perseverance of your species, we have been inspired by your acceptance of our people into your lives and gratified by your friendship” As the alien spoke, Boone couldn’t help but notice the oscillation of the light patterns on its chest, it seemed as though they were congealing towards a certain point? Was that his pulse? No, Boone thought, those lights were supposed to be a feeding system but the more he observed the more he realized they were so much more. They reacted to the sun itself, feeding on the UV rays as Da’an stepped out of the shuttle, were they reacted to another light source now? Something in the old soldier’s instincts kicked in and he bolted forward, he barely had time to notice that Johnathan Doors had already grabbed the Companion and pulled it from the mic stand. There was a flash, a crack of thunder and William Boone’s world went black.

User avatar
Praeothmin
Jedi Master
Posts: 3920
Joined: Mon Oct 23, 2006 10:24 pm
Location: Quebec City

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Praeothmin » Mon Dec 14, 2020 8:33 pm

Aaaannnnd?

What happens next????

Oh, I mean, very nice...

So what happens next?

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Dec 17, 2020 7:24 pm

New Chapters up, we get to see what happens to the assassin and how the Taelons operate a little more.

Adrian De Moxica: Rebelde y apostata



In battle, the first lesson you learn is that disorientation is death. The brain of one William Boone, former army Captain had completely forgotten that lesson for several seconds. Though, perhaps it could be forgiven such an error in memory given that it presently believed the area behind them was a big ass crater and that it felt like someone dropped lead on their heads. William Boone’s brain would have been correct and as the world returned to color, he could see the podium was mostly in ruins and had collapsed. Behind him, the metal scaffolding that two minutes prior held up a series of speakers and projects had crumbled into itself, a mangled heap of ruined steel and broken bodies. Beside him, the companion was crouched, its eyes furiously scanning above the debris that now surrounded them. There was something about his posture, the posture of someone who was not unaccustomed to battle, but also had begun to forget its intensity. “Are you injured?” he asked, the alien made a gesture with its hands “my belief is not. However,” Beside him, shielded protectively by the Taelon who couched in front of him lay the unconscious Johnathan Doors. Legs partially pinned under debris, that was when Boone realized, the podium hadn’t just collapsed, but it had buried them. “You pulled me to safety?” he asked. The Companion assented with a subtle nod. “Such as the word can applied”



Evidently so. “Can you tell where the shots are coming from?” Boone asked, people were pinned down and cracks of thunder rung out across the bay as the firing seemed to become erratic and panicked. The Companion gave a gesture that seemed to imply a negative and Boone nodded and peaked his head up, around them people were wounded, bloodied, a panicked crowd rushed forward to protect the Taelon, to offer themselves as meat shields. A subsequent shot must have gone into the ground because dirt, asphalt and body parts were everywhere. “We’re being bombarded!” Boone shouted. Something stirred to his left, he drew a pistol and whipped around only to find Sandoval there, her coat was torn, her shirt below as well. Blood ebbed from one arm, from a nasty gash on her leg but those cold eyes were blazing with an icy fire Boone remembered form the war. She rose, about her the world thundered, she limped forward with a sort of relentlessness that was all her own and yet, not. She looked compelled, yet also, driven and it was bizarre. Gallant, brave but totally unnatural even for a girl Boone was honestly convinced was a sociopath. Dirt and debris erupted around her; grass flung into her hair. Something struck her cheek, blood flowed, and she rose her right hand, and something shifted under her sleeves. Boone, compelled by instinct rose to give her cover only to be pulled down by the Companion “Neither of us can help her, only interfere” there was something in its serene voice neither male nor female yet both that piqued his interest. -It’s an old warrior, but not a cold one-, it was hard to read but something in his eyes suggested that it worried for Sandoval.







The woman’s wrist began to glow, or, no something else, something on her wrist began to glow, a deep crimson, then blue, then pink and then a violent orange. Something that looked akin to a bubble appeared, she lowered her hand and balled it into a fist, holding her wrist facing forward, toward Ellis island? Boone’s eyes widened; the shots were coming from there?! But how did she know? Someone else ran towards Sandoval, black and silver streaked, and he realized it was Marquette, she landed behind the younger woman and gripped her belt buckle and braced her comrade, throwing her torso into the woman’s back acting as a living tripod. The orange sphere of energy expanded, Sandoval took a breath, her legs seemed to buckle for a second and the sphere grew to roughly the size of a basketball. Then, it discharged violently enough it sent Sandoval backwards violently, her body only kept from collapsing by the Pilots iron grip. The sphere arched, a geyser of water erupted as it shot through the bay on its trajectory and rotated, a mass of raw power barreling towards Ellis island until it impacted into one of the buildings. Silence reigned for a half second, then most of the building erupted in a column of fire! The blast was so loud windows shattered on both islands and the roar of the backdraft ripped inwards and blew secondary and tertiary holes open across the building. Plumes of black smoke rose into the sky, screams echoed from all around him and Boone went into autopilot, the world going dark as he went through the motions of a grizzly clean up job.











…………….

Hijos del viento:





December the 27th 2040



New York City.


................


“Are you finally going back to work?” the question came between grunts of effort as an eight-year-old boy, built more like a twelve year old pushed his torso off the marble floor of the Boone family residence in New York City. Upon William Boone the thirds back rested a disinterested basset hound, its head resting upon the back of the boy’s neck while its ears and paws drooped over his shoulders. Around them, two other children, one six and the other four eagerly watched an old timey cartoon while an infant son slept like a log in a crib off to the side of the room. “yeah dad when are you going back to wooorrkkk?!” the Six-year-old intoned, his eyes sparking with mischief as if he’d discovered some taboo topic. Boone, who’d been lazing the sofa next to his sons while his more athletically inclined giant of a boy went for his fiftieth push up before collapsing on the floor exhausted, Charlie, the Basset hound giving absolutely indication that he even noticed the sudden stop. Boone gave his kids a friendly smirk “You heard mom and I talking about that last night huh?” His wife wanted him to stay home for another two weeks, Chief Pierce also wanted him to stay home. But Boone felt restless and there was something that the assassin said that played on his mind -I don’t understand, I aimed it right, got confirmation, I aimed it for his chest but it hit so far away-. It had, which was the only reason why any of them were alive right now. Boone had faded in and out of consciousness but only Da’an seemed to notice and it had insisted on accompanying Boone and Marquette after Sandoval who’d charged into a shuttle and taken off towards Elis island in search of the criminal. Jesus Christ, Boone recalled the scene. The building was mostly gone, two innocent people were killed, and dozens were maimed yet no one, not anyone seemed to bat an eyelash. Oh sure, there some complaints about excessive force, but they were so demure. Perhaps that was what bothered him the most?



How the Companions seemed to be able to do what they pleased, which was almost always benevolent. But this? This was brutal, Sandoval should have been sanctioned for that and when Boone arrived there, he took a swing at the woman who just laughed and told him to relax. Her eyes flickered with recognition too, which was odd, they’d only spent maybe a day or two together at most during the war but she seemed to greet him like an old friend with the memories as vivid as the day they met. Boone didn’t remember much, beyond ascending ruined stairs to find the man impaled on a half dozen pieces of wood, with brick and chandeliers crushing most of his lower body. The man looked bewildered, confused, betrayed and his final words were “but he said it’d never miss, he said it would let me get myself back”





There was an intense look of confusion on Sandoval’s face when she saw the body too and recognition and then pain? He didn’t think she was capable of emotional anguish. His impression of Elena was that she was a sociopath through and through, perhaps that might change? Boone collapsed shortly after caught in the arms of Da’an and Marquette. He probably should have taken the rest of the month (Year?) off and some of early January, but everything in that case felt wrong. “Well, I love being here with you guys its just” His children, crowded him now, attentive “You think there’s something wrong?” His eldest asked which surprised Boone, they’d inherited his mother’s smarts for sure. His children, who weren’t quite old enough to understand, but were uncannily perceptive and who had hugged on their father for an eternity when he came too in the hospital. “It’s okay daddy, you’re a policeman you catch bad guys and solve mysteries”





“Either way” Boone muttered happily “I’m spending new years with you guys”.

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Dec 17, 2020 7:24 pm

New Chapters up, we get to see what happens to the assassin and how the Taelons operate a little more. If you're starting to notice something severely wrong with Sandoval..well

Adrian De Moxica: Rebelde y apostata



In battle, the first lesson you learn is that disorientation is death. The brain of one William Boone, former army Captain had completely forgotten that lesson for several seconds. Though, perhaps it could be forgiven such an error in memory given that it presently believed the area behind them was a big ass crater and that it felt like someone dropped lead on their heads. William Boone’s brain would have been correct and as the world returned to color, he could see the podium was mostly in ruins and had collapsed. Behind him, the metal scaffolding that two minutes prior held up a series of speakers and projects had crumbled into itself, a mangled heap of ruined steel and broken bodies. Beside him, the companion was crouched, its eyes furiously scanning above the debris that now surrounded them. There was something about his posture, the posture of someone who was not unaccustomed to battle, but also had begun to forget its intensity. “Are you injured?” he asked, the alien made a gesture with its hands “my belief is not. However,” Beside him, shielded protectively by the Taelon who couched in front of him lay the unconscious Johnathan Doors. Legs partially pinned under debris, that was when Boone realized, the podium hadn’t just collapsed, but it had buried them. “You pulled me to safety?” he asked. The Companion assented with a subtle nod. “Such as the word can applied”



Evidently so. “Can you tell where the shots are coming from?” Boone asked, people were pinned down and cracks of thunder rung out across the bay as the firing seemed to become erratic and panicked. The Companion gave a gesture that seemed to imply a negative and Boone nodded and peaked his head up, around them people were wounded, bloodied, a panicked crowd rushed forward to protect the Taelon, to offer themselves as meat shields. A subsequent shot must have gone into the ground because dirt, asphalt and body parts were everywhere. “We’re being bombarded!” Boone shouted. Something stirred to his left, he drew a pistol and whipped around only to find Sandoval there, her coat was torn, her shirt below as well. Blood ebbed from one arm, from a nasty gash on her leg but those cold eyes were blazing with an icy fire Boone remembered form the war. She rose, about her the world thundered, she limped forward with a sort of relentlessness that was all her own and yet, not. She looked compelled, yet also, driven and it was bizarre. Gallant, brave but totally unnatural even for a girl Boone was honestly convinced was a sociopath. Dirt and debris erupted around her; grass flung into her hair. Something struck her cheek, blood flowed, and she rose her right hand, and something shifted under her sleeves. Boone, compelled by instinct rose to give her cover only to be pulled down by the Companion “Neither of us can help her, only interfere” there was something in its serene voice neither male nor female yet both that piqued his interest. -It’s an old warrior, but not a cold one-, it was hard to read but something in his eyes suggested that it worried for Sandoval.







The woman’s wrist began to glow, or, no something else, something on her wrist began to glow, a deep crimson, then blue, then pink and then a violent orange. Something that looked akin to a bubble appeared, she lowered her hand and balled it into a fist, holding her wrist facing forward, toward Ellis island? Boone’s eyes widened; the shots were coming from there?! But how did she know? Someone else ran towards Sandoval, black and silver streaked, and he realized it was Marquette, she landed behind the younger woman and gripped her belt buckle and braced her comrade, throwing her torso into the woman’s back acting as a living tripod. The orange sphere of energy expanded, Sandoval took a breath, her legs seemed to buckle for a second and the sphere grew to roughly the size of a basketball. Then, it discharged violently enough it sent Sandoval backwards violently, her body only kept from collapsing by the Pilots iron grip. The sphere arched, a geyser of water erupted as it shot through the bay on its trajectory and rotated, a mass of raw power barreling towards Ellis island until it impacted into one of the buildings. Silence reigned for a half second, then most of the building erupted in a column of fire! The blast was so loud windows shattered on both islands and the roar of the backdraft ripped inwards and blew secondary and tertiary holes open across the building. Plumes of black smoke rose into the sky, screams echoed from all around him and Boone went into autopilot, the world going dark as he went through the motions of a grizzly clean up job.











…………….

Hijos del viento:





December the 27th A.D 2040



New York City.


................


“Are you finally going back to work?” the question came between grunts of effort as an eight-year-old boy, built more like a twelve year old pushed his torso off the marble floor of the Boone family residence in New York City. Upon William Boone the thirds back rested a disinterested basset hound, its head resting upon the back of the boy’s neck while its ears and paws drooped over his shoulders. Around them, two other children, one six and the other four eagerly watched an old timey cartoon while an infant son slept like a log in a crib off to the side of the room. “yeah dad when are you going back to wooorrkkk?!” the Six-year-old intoned, his eyes sparking with mischief as if he’d discovered some taboo topic. Boone, who’d been lazing the sofa next to his sons while his more athletically inclined giant of a boy went for his fiftieth push up before collapsing on the floor exhausted, Charlie, the Basset hound giving absolutely indication that he even noticed the sudden stop. Boone gave his kids a friendly smirk “You heard mom and I talking about that last night huh?” His wife wanted him to stay home for another two weeks, Chief Pierce also wanted him to stay home. But Boone felt restless and there was something that the assassin said that played on his mind -I don’t understand, I aimed it right, got confirmation, I aimed it for his chest but it hit so far away-. It had, which was the only reason why any of them were alive right now. Boone had faded in and out of consciousness but only Da’an seemed to notice and it had insisted on accompanying Boone and Marquette after Sandoval who’d charged into a shuttle and taken off towards Elis island in search of the criminal. Jesus Christ, Boone recalled the scene. The building was mostly gone, two innocent people were killed, and dozens were maimed yet no one, not anyone seemed to bat an eyelash. Oh sure, there some complaints about excessive force, but they were so demure. Perhaps that was what bothered him the most?



How the Companions seemed to be able to do what they pleased, which was almost always benevolent. But this? This was brutal, Sandoval should have been sanctioned for that and when Boone arrived there, he took a swing at the woman who just laughed and told him to relax. Her eyes flickered with recognition too, which was odd, they’d only spent maybe a day or two together at most during the war but she seemed to greet him like an old friend with the memories as vivid as the day they met. Boone didn’t remember much, beyond ascending ruined stairs to find the man impaled on a half dozen pieces of wood, with brick and chandeliers crushing most of his lower body. The man looked bewildered, confused, betrayed and his final words were “but he said it’d never miss, he said it would let me get myself back”





There was an intense look of confusion on Sandoval’s face when she saw the body too and recognition and then pain? He didn’t think she was capable of emotional anguish. His impression of Elena was that she was a sociopath through and through, perhaps that might change? Boone collapsed shortly after caught in the arms of Da’an and Marquette. He probably should have taken the rest of the month (Year?) off and some of early January, but everything in that case felt wrong. “Well, I love being here with you guys its just” His children, crowded him now, attentive “You think there’s something wrong?” His eldest asked which surprised Boone, they’d inherited his mother’s smarts for sure. His children, who weren’t quite old enough to understand, but were uncannily perceptive and who had hugged on their father for an eternity when he came too in the hospital. “It’s okay daddy, you’re a policeman you catch bad guys and solve mysteries”





“Either way” Boone muttered happily “I’m spending new years with you guys”.
Last edited by Admiral Breetai on Thu Dec 17, 2020 7:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Dec 17, 2020 7:30 pm

And Da'an makes his appearance this chapter, you'll probably be able to see who I'm drawing on ever so slightly, if you've followed the trainwrecks that were my previous works. Though whether they'll be kindred spirits or Da'an will be far more benevolent remains to be unraveled as the story goes.





Isabella: Reina apasionada



December the 28th, A.D 2040: Washington DC.



Companion Embassy.


...............


“You look ready to jump out of your own skin Bill!” Rosanna “Rose” Boone nee: Ryder, offered her husband a sunny smile as she straightened out the lapels on his overcoat. She made him wear the blue one today, it was his fanciest something he only wore on winter dates with her, or to their children’s Christmas plays or to the times she’d make him attend opera’s or company dinners. It had been a gift his father gave to him, shortly before he passed away “a man with an important wife ought to look important himself” he’d said. The coat was similar to the one his granddad used to wear to church every Saturday. A coat Boone remembered his father wearing on business trips or wrapping him in when little Billy was tired and cold on long treks with his father to different ministerial conferences on the precious times he got to travel with dad. It had been the coat that Johnathan Doors nearly took for his own as they both departed a dinner at an estate in Upstate New York around the same time. They had the same coats, at least in looks, the one Doors owned likely cost more than Boone could make in a month. Still, it felt good to know something he paid sixty bucks for could confuse the wealthiest man in human history. Doors was recovering now, his legs were shattered and his spine destroyed, but Taelon science mixed with the wonders of modern medicine meant that a man who would have likely bled to death in the wreckage instead was already out and at home and giving press conferences. Within a month he’d walk again apparently, this was a common thing (spines were being fixed before the Taelons arrived, albeit not to this degree, not this fast either) but to Boone it was still miracle science. It was of Doors, Boone’s thoughts were dwelling, Doors and the violence Agent Sandoval deemed appropriate to neutralize a thread. Actually, it was Sandoval in general, the girl he knew from the Asian theatre was cold, calculating but below that he remembered seeing a lot of pain and a desire to escape it. There had been an emotional intensity below it, she was alive, vivid behind an exterior that made her sociopathic in appearance but more driven and stricken below. The woman he met today was something else entirely, while Sandoval was always a being of will. The thought of her rising up, covered in her own blood and standing out in the open to make a shot like that where an enemy could have turned her into soup at their leisure made no sense. More than that, it flew in the face of everything he remembered about Sandoval and how she fought, how she thought, how she reacted. It was almost as if she was compelled into action and in the most brazen way possible, the way both jumped into the fray and braced each other was like something out of one of those old Superhero movies. It was almost a “comic book shot”, as if for a trailer poster or something.



Boone supposed that was a point, which was a really cynical leap, one he admitted came out of nowhere and with little in the way of hard evidence. But it was certainly everywhere, every news app, every social media page, every video streaming service had memes dedicated to the shot heard round the world. It was almost, strategic even if it was tactically stupid and Boone didn’t like any of it. He couldn’t prove it, but he didn’t like any of it, the only thing he “trusted” oddly enough was Da’an. There was something about it, the Companion was more than what he seemed, but in a way that didn’t cause him to raise his guard, not totally at least. Naturally, for William Boone this meant he was the one who needed the most watching.





Beyond that, he felt a measure of blame for Doors injuries. It was stupid, but nothing about any of what happened made any sense, the gun used was a collaboration between Doors and Remington utilizing Doors International light materials, Taelon technology and a Remington know how. It was supposed to an artillery cannon that could be fired from the shoulder and recoilless, heavy metal that could be fired like your daddy’s hunting rifle. Originally only twenty thousand ever went into production, all models were accounted for, a prototype was missing but the facility it was designed in was destroyed six years ago in an industrial fire and no one thought anything of it. So why did a former activist lawyer turned vagrant have it? How did he get it? Who gave it to him? All of these were questions he was not permitted to ask because the case wasn’t his!



But they dogged his mind and made him wonder why the Companions wanted to see him. A million other questions began to surface in his mind, that he had no time to really give any attention too because he was kissed reassuringly and whisked towards “One Taelon avenue” the name affectionately given to the enormous, steeple shaped cathedral of what looked like living glass that shimmered and danced in a myriad of colors. “It’s like, living stained glass” Boone muttered in awe, his wife Rosanna smiled warmly, she’d been the diplomatic building once before to hold a legal briefing on some copyright matters a year prior. The repeat visit did nothing to dampen her own awe and witnessing the “virtual glass” part, almost like a veil lifting hearkened Boone back to his childhood, a movie about rats who’d build a magical city in a rose bush. Boone could scarcely recall the plot, but what captivated his mind as a child was the entrance to the city of the rats itself. An underground paradise, of electricity, technology, magic and nature. A blending of faith, science and sorcery, he felt the same sense of childlike wonder here. “Where rationality and skepticism pierce the veil of the illusory only to find the illusion is in doubt itself” Rose murmured, his wife had a way of putting things, which was why she was such a great lawyer and such a great spouse and mom. She almost always knew what to say, whereas he always knew what should be said, which meant she was almost always bailing him out.





As they entered, Boone’s senses were assaulted by a myriad of colors that bewildered and almost ruined the experience but for a soft hum that seemed to relax the mind and as they came over the threshold what waited behind him was almost comical. Inside were granite floors, a magnificent front desk with immaculately dressed members of the Protection Agency’s service division, dressed in tunics of varying colors or lengths, each denoting the different service they provided for the Companions. Each one, also seemed to possess some kind of earpiece, or a set over an eye. It was odd, they appeared smooth, slightly metallic but very much a part of their skin and bones. Their eyes were laser focused, yet they remained pleasant enough and he could make out some texting loved ones, while others, of functions closer to what Sandoval was remained aloof. Speak of the devil, or think of her, Boone’s eyes moved towards an elevator towards the rear of the lobby where Elena Sandoval waited, her eyes as poised and cold as he remembered but there was something different, something he couldn’t quite describe. The left corner of her lip tugged lightly into a smirk and she extended her right-hand for Boone. “Preacher” she offered, there it was, the slight twinge in her tone of voice. Elena Sandoval had an oddly lyrical voice, she always did, it could produce an amazing facsimile of warmth even when it was clear she was anything but chipper. In many ways she’d been the antithesis of Marquette, who was genuinely warm and whose optimism kept the lights on during the darkest parts of those missions. Conversely, Elena smiled, smiled but was internally observant, remote, calculating. She wanted to be friendly, she wanted to be warm, she made a huge effort to involved but it was always as if she felt she’d fallen short of the mark. Something profoundly traumatic happened to that child soldier he knew, but the woman he met now? Much of that was gone, replaced by something else, it seemed as if she had found happiness, found her warmth but it was robbed from her. Or, something else happened? It was so hard to describe, it was like he was looking at a tapestry woven from a woman he knew as a girl, who’d grown, progressed, found meaning and a voice above the cacophony in her heart only the story abruptly restarted itself. It was almost like something was wearing Sandoval’s skin. The thought was absurd, he knew her for about a day or two, but his instincts screamed get out. Boone’s hesitation in taking her hand seemed to be confused for something else as the woman smiled. “Don’t worry it’s not armed” as he took her hand to shake it, he found his fingertips sliding along something smooth, alive, scaled and yet oddly metallic in touch. Looking down he saw what looked like the head of something both squid like and insectoid, something eyelike glowed and Boone raised an eyebrow. “Your hand cannon”



She laughed at that, it was a slight laugh, but one none the less. -She’s even laughing too perfectly, the fuck?!- “I can do more than just demolish buildings Boone” Boone? She’d never called him Boone before. “One of the benefits of the job is never having to waste money on ammo, I eat a lot more though” she admitted casually as she shook Rose’s hand “Misses Boone” Her voice was cordial but there was a bit of reluctance there, as if Sandoval hadn’t wanted Boone’s wife to come along. “So that’s a Skrill huh?” Rose asked, breaking the ice and Sandoval nodded her head as they entered the elevator. He’d heard about Skrills, they were some kind of living weapon that Companion protectors used instead of firearms, allegedly they were more efficient and had more accuracy and had a more versatile range of fire. Boone only hoped the ability to blow up a decent sized building was its upper limit and not a mid-range setting. “I heard they’re some kind of symbiote?” Boone asked, “I heard Parasite” Rose added “But I’m assuming that’s incorrect”



“Very much so” Sandoval spoke, her jaw was imperceptibly tightening, she really didn’t like Rose Boone thought with a frown. “The Skrill’s are more like Symbionts as Preacher Boone here says, they bond with our flesh. We feed them, provide warmth and shelter and in exchange we defend each other together. There are some tradeoffs, I need to consume about eight thousand calories in a single day if I want this to be able to fire at a moments notice, at least without exhausting myself” she shrugged, not willing to elaborate more on the drawbacks. “On the plus side, they heal your injuries and help take care of any pesky medical conditions you might have.” “Really?” Rose asked surprised “Can they cure cancer?” “Some forms of it on its own. Depends on how severe. Diseases too, to a degree though I am still reliant on modern medicine to some degree, but all the arterial and metabolic issues that would arise from eating the way I do, don’t exist. I had a slightly enlarged heart from some youthful, indiscretions, my Skrill was able to repair that in about six months with a bit of Door international’s “regenerax” drugs.”



Sandoval’s sudden forthcoming tone bothered Boone more than it should, the implications of this “device” were distressing, but also alluring. It sounded like an incredibly reliable weapon, more than just that but a pet, the ultimate guard dog that could act like a doctor almost. The casual aside about her heart made his eyes widen, had that been a result of the war? The elevator stopped and doors opened towards a spacious penthouse looking floor, art and stately busts from various human cultures decorated a room with odd alien color patterns and the trademark “companion purple” all about the columns and walls. Potted plants from earth and a myriad of other worlds hung or rested about different parts of the expansive area and the Boone’s stopped before what looked like a swirling tapestry of pure light. The images and symbols blended with a soft song that seemed at once childlike and yet overwhelmingly sorrowful and Rose laid her head on Bill’s shoulder as the two observed. “The well of souls” Sandoval remarked, turning and walking from the work of…Not art..magic. It took the Boone’s several seconds before they finally followed suit, walking towards a meeting area where a being sat on a throne made of that coral like material that was both living and mechanical that the Companions loved so much.





Da’an was seated, a series of screens broadcasting human news as well as two music channels and a talk show discussing the assassination attempt seemed to float in the air before him only to he dismissed with a wave as the pair came into view. There was something in the Companion’s eyes, those alien, yet all too human eyes that made Boone wonder if he was dealing with a child, or an ancient, a politician or an old soldier. As it rose, Rosanna Boone took a step back, tears welled in her eyes, they’d fallen in love the year before the Companions came. She was twenty-five then, young, bold, fresh out of law school. She always looked young; she was young at heart but now she looked almost childlike. Though she’d been here before, Rosana had never met a companion in person. Oh sure, she’d seen them on television, seen them participate in various events. Qo’on their leader, was one of the greatest legal scholars of the known universe it was said and his public debates with human legal minds seemed to prove that. In twenty thirty-six he became the first on human to argue before the United States Supreme Court on a case regarding abuses by social services in California from before five or six years before the Third World War. A mother killed a CPS officer who was dispatched to seize her autistic son, to remove him from her custody to begin gender “confirmation” therapy. The police escorting the woman gunned her down before her child’s eyes and years later the son, who was de-transitioning spent the bulk of a decade suing both the state of California for his mother’s wrongful death the activist group who was involved in the legal battle that caused his mother’s death. He’d also sued for what was done to him. Courts before the war always ruled against him, Qo’on’s involvement caused a stir. But his skill as a wordsmith, his dedication to American jurisprudence and his willingness to respect their laws achieved almost as much to win over the American people as Da’an had by ending the war and turning the Sahara into a paradise. But Rosana had never been this close and she took a low breath. Da’an for its part seemed to regard her with a knowing smile, the smile of someone who’d been both spouse and parent but was also acutely aware of his power of his presence. It’s left hand rose out in offering, while fingertips from the right touched its chest. “Are you, the sharp legal mind Johnathan Doors speaks so fondly of? Are you, also the source of this man’s determination?”



“De-determination?” she asked, disarmed both by the compliment and the question. Boone couldn’t help but smirk, he knew where this was going. “Had he not, you and your progeny to come home too, I am certain he would be far more reckless.” “you mean he fears my wrath?” she asked with a breathy laugh. She was almost giddy she was so nervous; it was almost adorable. “A warrior knows an unwinnable battle” Da’an responded with a hint of mischief in its done. -you, smooth bastard- Boone thought. Damn, it was clever, a politician through and through but there was something in the look of its eyes that made it less sleezy and more charming. Despite himself, Boone found himself liking Da’an. “I am Da’an, The American Companion” When his wife did her best to repeat its gesture, Da’an took her right hand and held it aloft, reversing the position.



The American companion was arguably the most important posting, for the United states was one of only six nations that escaped the war in anything resembling “good shape” and one of only three whose economies had begun to boom during the final years of the conflict. It was the only nation left with any sort of force projection power and it had been the Taelon’s biggest ally in their quest to heal the ravaged world and mankind. Well, besides Johnathan Doors, anyway. In many respects he counted as the seventh unofficial member of the club of six. That had a great deal to do with the fact that his company itself had generated revenue comparable to the GDP’s of two of those six countries and his personal portfolio included Singapore in its list of physical. Da’an understood this, very clearly and while Qo’on might have been their leader, it was clear Da’an was not far behind it on the totem pole of alien bigshots. It’s body language exuded power, but it was so subdued it came off less like the bragging of your typical politician and more like confidence of an old timer who made it farther than he’d expected. “I am honored and gratified to be in your presence again William Boone and to finally, meet you” It added, nodding its head in ascent to his wife. “But I regret that is not a social call”





“I figured it wasn’t” Boone remarked, here it comes he thought. The real reason we’re here, not the thank you, Lily told him this was about. “Oh?” Da’an quirked its head, an inquisitive look in its eyes, scrutinizing Boone’s facial features, his ticks. Reinforcing again, that he was dealing with something clever. “A being in your position cannot thank the man who helped it save the life of Johnathan Doors without making it a public event”. Sandoval seemed to twitch at the implication, but the Companion merely smiled again, its hands weaving about in the air as though Da’an was plucking an invisible harp. So much of its body language was expressed in those hand gestures, they were likely a component of Taelon speech. He’d have to pay attention to the gestures as much as the facial expressions and words “How true, yet I confess, my pretext for inviting you here, is no less sincere than my true reasoning”



“I don’t doubt that” Boone admitted, again he finds himself liking the old snake. That was clearly what Da’an was -It was a soldier too- Boone thought, he’d have hated to fight against this thing in its heyday. Something told Boone it would have been a dangerously slick opponent and still was, the theatres might have changed. But Boone knew that look, he knew it too damn well. “I appreciate it, though I wish I could have done more to protect Johnathan Doors” The Taelon seemed to shift, for a brief second Boone thought he saw patterns of light below the soft, pasty flesh. His wife saw it too, she nearly murmured something, but she stopped herself, only gazing intently at the Companion. “It is a feeling I share” It added, with no small amount of honesty in its voice. “It is, regrettable that some humans have taken to, voicing their displeasure with our presence on your world by violent means.” Now that phrasing was interesting, there were always naysayers and conspiracy theorists, but they were in the minority to such an extreme many faced violence and social ostracism for voicing such a view. To Boone it reminded him too much of the climate before the war, but admittedly it was different. This was almost, religious, the vast bulk of the surviving members of the species moved in lockstep with their every word and so most Taelon’s expressed dismay and confusion, incredulity at the thought of resistance against their kind. After all, what idiot would resist the savior? Only, the actual messiah was resisted, and the jury was still out on these guys. Yet, Da’an acted as if he expected resistance and discontentment (which was a rational stance to have), even if he feigned surprise at its violent nature. Which in and of itself was a total lie, he expected insurgency as well. “That’s not quite true” his wife murmured, beating Bill to the punch. Da’an turned to gaze at her with the same smirk, it was enjoying itself! Enjoying their cleverness and smiling like a mentor towards a particularly defiant pupil who finally showed some initiative. “Elaborate, if you please”



“You expected this to happen sooner or later, what you want to know is whether or not its organized” Rose muttered turning to look at her husband. -uh oh- Boone thought, I was too good, damnit. “This isn’t just a thank you chat is it? This was a job audition?!”



Da’an’s smile became a triumphant smirk and it nodded its head gently



“I’m afraid so, detective Boone”

Admiral Breetai
Starship Captain
Posts: 1813
Joined: Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:28 pm

Re: Conquest of Paradise

Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Dec 17, 2020 7:34 pm

Capítulo tres:



Pedro De Mendoza: Serpiente y fundador.


December the 28th, A.D 2040: Washington DC.



Companion Embassy.



“A job interview hunny, that’s the term for it” Rose murmur, her hands tightened on her husbands arm as she gazed into the ancient, yet oddly youthful eyes of the Companion. -He’s putting us both on the spot, but doing it in a way that allows us to refuse as a couple without risking our careers?- And it would have been suicide to refuse a job offer from the Companions in this political climate. Especially for her, she realized, working as a lawyer for Doors international tethered to the Taelons if her husband refused, without a very “public” show of deference from Da’an even she wouldn’t be safe from the fallout. The Companion was giving them that, by putting them in a position where they could explain their reasoning and do so as a family. Of course, that didn’t give them a complete shield from retribution. She’d heard the stories; it was akin to the bad old days before the war where if you went against the old social justice narratives you ran the risk of having your bank accounts shut down after you were unceremoniously fired. Things were different now, she told herself, it was illegal to close a person’s bank account or deny them a mortgage or seize their assets based off politics. But the Companions transcended politics, as did Johnathan Doors and it was hard to tell which among them was the greater power. -Would he protect me if my Billy refuses? - She thought. Sandoval’s eyes were harsh, they seemed to sense her nervousness and Rosanna Boone steadied herself. -She doesn’t like me, but its not hate, it’s like she’s sad. - There was something wrong with that woman. William Boone stepped forward, his mind was swimming with questions, his eyes flickering with the gravity of this. Like his wife, William Boone was also considering the consequences of refusal, how badly the department would react, how badly everyone would. But he was also thinking of the consequences of acceptance. For years, William Boone heard stories about those who accepted employment with the Companions, whereas people like Captain Marquette tended to remain public, remain with their families it was the protectors who seemed to become almost total recluses. As if, serving the Companions had consume their entire lives, he’d read up on the silly conspiracy boards too and mostly dismissed it except one thing now rang out in his mind. -Companion Protectors enter the service and lose their souls-, Sandoval’s body language, her reactions, her facial ticks all felt off. Admittedly, the Detective had no idea if he was merely being paranoid or not. A couple days with someone a decade ago was not enough to form a total psychological profile, but Boone’s instincts were seldom wrong. Sandoval’s bloody form firing that, thing kept repeating over in his head and it formed a pit in his stomach.





The world was silent, his wife squeezed his shoulder again and he could see it in her eyes, she realized what Da’an had done and it made him really annoyed at the being, but also continued to add to his respect of the creature before him. -It could just as easily have strong armed us, or asked me alone, it cornered me, but it’s being deferential. – It was hard not to respect it, even when the old snake was being a total bastard. Taking a breath, Boone paced himself before he began to pull his wife from his arm only to hold her hand by his waist and step forward. “Da’an, we stood beside each other in battle. However brief, in that moment I learned a lot about you, enough to know you’re one of the most dangerous beings I’ve ever met, but also the wisest”





Something tugged at the corner of the Companion’s mouth, it wasn’t quite a smile, it wasn’t quite a sneer, it wasn’t quite hostile, quite cold, it wasn’t quite warm or friendly either. It was all of the above and when Sandoval moved as if she was going to speak, Da’an raised its hand. “Is that not presumption? To claim you can view the totality of one’s being based upon a brief interaction”



“It would be the height of presumption had I indeed said such a thing” Boone responded with a look that said -Don’t play cheap word games with me buddy, I’m married to a lawyer-. To his surprise Da’an’s mouth curled into a broad genuine smile and an odd pattern of lights seemed to flow under its skin again, this time more bright and vivid. It was very clearly enjoying this game the flicker in its eyes seemed to suggest it was apologizing for such a lame rhetorical trap. -I hate that I like this one so much- Boone thought, he barely made friends with his fellow humans this easily it made Da’an so dangerous but at the same time. Only an idiot would deny the chivalry that walked hand in hand with its cunning. “But that is not an answer” It continued, it’s left hand snaking through the air only to turn slightly as if to grab something illusive.



“No, it’s not” Boone took a breath again, centering himself. “What Agent Sandoval did was unnecessarily brutal, I also don’t like how she put herself in harm’s way to”



“The safety of the companion’s take priority over our own lives Boone! It’s no different than when you served” Sandoval’s voice was so vehement it startled Rose and made Boone uneasy and then her saw the look in her eyes and his blood chilled. -That’s not Sandoval- it was a thing that wore Sandoval’s skin and knew how to pull off a fair imitation of Sandoval, but that wasn’t Sandoval. “We both know what isn’t what you were doing though” Boone answered, slowly, digesting how thoroughly unsettling it all was. “Are you implying I was”



“Agent Sandoval”



Da’an’s tone was so light, on the surface it was so gentle. But there was so much presence in it that Boone was suddenly feeling guilty, as if he was back in school provoking a kid to act out of turn only to flinch when a teacher threw the book at him. Sandoval stepped back, something flickered in her eyes, traces of the girl he knew during the war, for a second her countenance came close to shifting and he thought he could see the real Sandoval below which made his heart pound -What happened to her?!- “You are very perceptive Detective Boone” Da’an’s voice was even, as much it clearly enjoyed the verbal sparring the moment Boone called that out the consummate professional took over and Da’an became decidedly serious. “However, you are mistaken in your implication?”



Oh, Boone thought, it caught me. Well, I knew he was clever. “Am I?”



“Agent Sandoval acted on an interpretation of her mandate, one I, admit I did not fully agree with” There was that honesty again, defusing him attempts to remain on edge. “I can’t work with people like that S..sir?”



The being’s features seemed to flush again, energy dancing under its skin. “You may call me Da’an, nor would you”



Boone raised an eyebrow “But you want me to be a protector do you not?”



“You misunderstand, William Boone. I do not wish you to be a protector I wish you to be the protector” The inflection in it’s tone caused Sandoval’s hand to twitch, something in her eyes flickered again, indignation? “What do you mean?”



“You are correct in your assertion that our reaction was, disproportionate” Da’an continued, it’s right hand now moving through the air, around him the building seemed to reciprocate whatever emotions it was feeling for its coloring suddenly grew a softer, darker hue. “in the coming years, perhaps decades. As we remain on your world, as we, seek to master our evolutionary course and facilitate your journey, it may become necessary to have one guiding force over our protectors. One who is, outside our circle yet bonded to it”



Now that was weird, everything about that sentence was weird. What was Da’an trying to tell him? Master our evolutionary course? Seek to facilitate ours? What? The fact that this info dump which may have been a library’s worth of intel(if Boone could just make sense of it) was used as segue into offering him a position comparable to a police chief was an incredible gesture of trust. One that was almost, gross in its immensity. -It’s trying to bait me, clever bastard-. This changed things though, Boone was always a soldier, always a beat cop even when he earned his shield. “I’m not political” Boone immediately regretted saying that because he had a feeling Da’an was about to get really cheeky with him.



“Nor was I, in the beginning” It smiled, its left hand weaved a harpsichord notes in the air, playing that invisible instrument that revealed so much without making a sound.



-yup, called it- “I have trouble believing that” Boone found himself smiling again and surprisingly Da’an’s façade of professionalism fell away for the briefest of seconds. “You are no fool, William Boone; all soldiers are political”



-Damn, it’s good-



He shouldn’t continue to be surprised. “If you want to say no, Bill” Rose put in, her eyes were beaming with pride that he’d held his own so well, but also a myriad of other emotions concern among them. “Any business, that retaliates against you, for your integrity shall lose all Taelon patronage” Da’an cut in causing both husband and wife to gawk for a second. Whatever Da’an was, whatever it might have been, it’s committal to the Boone’s autonomy in this decision was admirable and also, curious. “Thank you” the couple murmured in unison. “One more question”





“You may ask detective Boone”



Boone hesitated, Da’an made a gesture and Sandoval remained for a second before turning and departing having lingered just long enough to voice her displeasure in a way that wasn’t insubordinate. “Will I have to do terrible things and order others to do terrible things for the Companions?” Boone asked, his eyes were focused, narrowed, his wife squeezed onto his hand like a vice, but she as well sensed the other foot about to drop and remained stoic outside of the gesture.





Da’an turned its head and Rose gasped, those faint lights that shimmered below its skin seemed to replace its skin, a brilliant figure of pure light, of blues and pinks and light purples flickered into being before them as if the question caused an intense emotional reaction, one so deep its entire being couldn’t contain it. At last, it returned to “normal” and with a sweeping motion of one hand it answered the question. “No”





“Will I have to do that for you”



Da’an smiled, it was proud of William Boone. What happened next, historians would say sealed the fate of entire galaxies. Da’an was nearly fifty thousand years old, it was a being by all accounts of immense cunning and experience, more than that it possessed wisdom. In it’s youth it had been a cleric, in its adolescence a scientist, shifting casts as it’s sire Ma’el had then its maturation it became a master of War even the mighty T’than would acknowledge as a superior and kindred spirit. In its seniority it became one of the greatest diplomats and politicians in the known universe. Knowing all this, it could have lied to Boone, or spun him a yarn about how he would do all he could to avoid that eventuality, or feign insult at the mere thought that It’s agenda might differ to that of it’s kind on some level. Or that it’s loyalty to its race and its future might have compelled it to act contrary to the main plan. Or perhaps, because of its versatility in experience, it knew the only correct answer was one devoid any platitudes.





“Yes”





Boone nodded his head slowly. He looked at his wife, who looked at him, she had tears in her eyes that were unshed. Both understood the weight of this and understood it was going to bigger than either of them, both were scared but neither was willing to back down. No one had ever been so entrusted by a Companion. Whatever Da’an was, whatever its plans were, it wanted William Boone badly and that meant that Boone had to walk headfirst into the serpent's jaws.







Slowly, Boone raised his hands mimicking the gesture of greeting.





“Then I accept”



William Boone was a very good cop.



Da’an knew enough not to allow itself a triumphant smile, but to incline its head as though he was honoring a peer.



Or a worthy foe.



Boone couldn’t tell which and much as he found himself liking Da’an.



That scared the hell out of him.

Post Reply