Announcement

**Bearcat** · January 30, 2000, 03:07

So far it's okay. Wow. All I can say is that we have alot of good fiction coming in. OldCodger brought in his. We've got that other new story going on. And now you dude.
Hey Crossfire guys we're being put out of business.

**President Jakjon** · January 31, 2000, 00:48

Chapter II: Tomorrow's Projections

Commissioner Lal lay down on his couch in his penthouse high above UN Headquarters. After he had settled comfortably, he cleared his throat and said, "Computer, play 'Das Rheingold' by Richard Wagner." Lal closed his eyes and let the first movement wash over him.
Then the telephone rang.
"Computer, pause play. Who is calling?"
"A Mr. Howlett from Media Analysis. He says that it is urgent."
Lal slowly sat up. "What could he possibly want now," he thought, "that just can't wait?" "Computer, display him on the television."
Howlett was one of the first Planet-born humans to achieve a high rank in the United Nations. The demands of his job prevented him from getting much exercise, and it showed. "Commissioner, I apologize for the inconvenience, but..."
"Get to the point, Howlett."
"Okay. Remember that drone riot at Morgan Electronics? Uh... we downloaded this report from Morgan Newsnet an hour ago. I'm putting it onscreen now."

----------------------

The familiar Morgan Newsnet studio filled Lal's 1.8 meter flatscreen. Morgan's top anchor, Robert Guerre, was just wrapping up the financial news report. "Predictions for tomorrow's trading day are bullish. It is anticipated that the unrest at Morgan Electronics should be finished by two in the morning. CEO Morgan said today that... {Guerre reached to adjust his earpiece.} I've just received a Morganews flash from our correspondent at our sister station in Morgan Electronics. I now hand you off to Natalie Davis."
The view changed to that of an attractive young woman of Asiatic descent standing by a large, smashed window. "Thank you, Robert. As you can see, the damage here is immense! Looking outside, there are several buildings on fire, and chaos reigns in the street! Heavily-armed drones have taken total control of the city! We barely escaped the station in time! All of us in this room are hoping, some even praying, that we can somehow escape the anarchy. {From behind the cameraman, automatic weapons fire and the screams of the mortally wounded flood the audio.} What's that? What's going on? Bob, hide! Here they come!" The cameraman dropped the video camera, and the transmission dissolved into static. The view returned to the studio.
Guerre, looking very grave, said, "This has been a Morganews special report. All of us here at Morgan Newsnet Central are greatly saddened by the loss of Miss Davis. In other news, the latest projections for tomorrow have taken a decidedly bearish turn..."

-------------------

Lal went into his kitchen and made himself some high-caffeine tea. "It's going to be a very long night," he thought sadly, "just like the last one." As he went into his bedroom to find a clean suit, he ordered the house computer to play Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries."

------------------
--President Jakjon
--Datalinks

**President Jakjon** · February 21, 2000, 19:43

Chapter Three
"Enter the Lord's Believers"

Miriam Godwinson paused in her sermon to look into the congregation. The students and staff at the New Ephesia Missionary Academy stared at her with rapt attention. Satisfied, she continued, "So, as you go out to convert the secularists who reside alongside us on New Eden, stay true to the path of righteousness. Do not stray into temptation, but instead be a worthy example to the people around you."
To herself, she thought, "They know this... I HOPE they know this. But it is good to remind them."
Her monologue resumed: "Let us close in prayer. Dear heavenly Father, we thank you for this opportunity to worship your glory. We pray that you will give us the power to spread your word, and that you will give us courage to stand fast where we are persecuted. Amen."
The congregation stood, but did not leave. This was a distinguishing facet of The Lord's Believers. Sunday tended to be an all-day Fellowship party that started in the places of worship and slowly migrated through the streets and into the homes of Miriam's nation of Fundamentalists. By that time, Evening Services would begin, and the majority of the citizenry would flock back into church and repeat the process.
Miriam usually stayed in whichever church she had preached at, counseling and praying with individuals in need of solace. Recently, the Catholics had decided that Sister Miriam was the closest thing to a Pope as they were going to get. Thus, she often accepted their confessions. This was not her area of expertise, being a Baptist herself, but as long as she was tolerant enough to do everything from smoke cannabis with the small community of Rastafarians to preside over the Bar Mitzvahs of the sons of high-ranking Jews, Miriam felt that it was her duty to hear them.
Right now, however, she wasn't hearing an Irish-Italian accent, but instead the Arabic of her Special Actions advisor, Malik Al-Anwar Muhammad. "Sister Miriam, there is a matter which requires your immediate attention."
Without turning her head, Miriam growled, "Brother Malik, what did I say about not contacting me in public?"
Malik's voice lost its urgency and took on an apologetic tone. "I know that I need to keep my 'ministry' secret, but this really is a valuable piece of information! I've established an uplink in one of the media rooms."
***
"The Muslims are ideal for this work," Miriam thought as she walked down the hall with Malik at her side, "they've been doing it for centuries. Not that they're the only ones that have been forced to go underground and fight for their faith, of course."
"In here, Sister Miriam." Malik led her into a room dominated by a gigantic flatscreen television covering one wall. There was "stadium-style" seating for the students, and the professor would sit at his desk at the top of the stairs that went through the seats. The room was filled with SA personnel. Some of them waved at her as she ascended the stairs to the desk.
Malik barked orders. "Brother Peter, get the transmission onscreen. Sister Naomi, brief Sister Miriam."
Naomi was young Irish woman of slightly under-average height. Her blonde hair was cut above her shoulders. "We received this from five different missionary teams throughout the Morganite territory. The first reported it at 10:23, and the last at 11:46. They say that eight different cable television channels were pirated by the creators of the interview."
"Interview?"
"You'll see."
The lights dimmed and the screen came to life.
---------------------
Natalie Davis' world was darkness. The roar of a vehicular engine told her that she was being transported somewhere. When the drones had come, she had hid under the sink in the gourmet kitchen in the condominium where she was broadcasting from. There was a lot of shouting. Then the cabinet door was pulled open. The last thing she had seen was a rifle butt flying at her head.
Her arms and legs felt sore. Judging from the pain in her frontal lobe, it seemed as if someone had tried to jack-hammer a hole into her skull. She tried to move them to a more comfortable position, but they were tied together behind her back. Taking a chance, she pleaded with the droning silence, "Is anybody there?"
An unfamiliar voice answered, "You're awake!"
"Of course I'm awake," Natalie snapped before she checked herself - she was at the mercy (or lack thereof) of whoever owned this feminine voice. "Sorry… who are you?"
"Private Hydro, at your service. So, you're that reporter that they captured on Bezos Street?"
"Yeah, I guess so… could you please remove my blindfold? If it's OK, I mean, I'm tied up anyway, you know. I'm not…"
"Okay, okay, whatever."
Natalie Davis squinted as her eyes adjusted to the glaring light above her. She was on a stainless steel floor which rose to form a crude bench to either side of her. A very secure-looking door lay just beyond her feet. In from of her head sat Private Hydro, a muscular yet youthful African-Asian woman. Hydro held a unity-type shredder pistol which she casually pointed at Natalie's head.
Davis felt a little better. "Thank you thank you thank you… where am I?"
"We put you and your crew on a riot-control mobile prison that we 'jacked from the cop shop on Gates Boulevard. Neat, huh?"
"Right… where are we going?"
"You are very, very lucky! You get to be the first to interview Foreman Domai!"
Davis was perplexed. "Who the heck is 'Foreman Domai'?"
"The leader of the Free Drones! You're kidding, right?"
"Free Drones?"
"You're really out of the loop… of course, you are a talent, you have SOME excuse…" Private Hydro cleared her throat. "The Free Drones are a People's Revolutionary Collective dedicated to freeing the oppressed working class of Planet." Hydro smiled, gratified because she had actually gotten an opportunity to repeat that spiel.
"Oh. Right. Sure."
The transport lurched to a halt. Private Hydro hastily replaced the blindfold. The door hissed open. Hydro stood and blurted, "Private Hydro reporting, sir!"
A smooth male voice replied, "Private, take her arms. I'll hold the legs."

------------------
--President Jakjon
--Datalinks

**President Jakjon** · February 23, 2000, 04:27

"Centauri Socialism"
by President JakJon
Chapter 4: "Fifteen Minutes"
(Acknowledgment to Hydro.)

Foreman Domai was nervous. It was his first time on television, and it was important. "Calm down," he intoned to himself, "the reporter, she's the one who has to be worried."

One of his aides knocked on the door. "Foreman?"

"Yes, Cotroneo?"

"Miss Davis has an unfortunate scar on her forehead. We were wondering if we should cover it up."

"Yes, Cotroneo, of course you should cover it. Thanks for asking."

"You're welcome, Foreman."

------------------------------

Private Hydro didn't like the smell of tobacco, but she needed someone to talk to. At this point, Lieutenant Kazin was the only trustworthy person available, considering the subject matter.

Unfortunately, he was going to some briefing in less than two hours, so he didn't have time, considering the how long it would take him to go that distance on foot. He said, impatiently, "Well, Private, what's so important that you couldn't bring it up with Corporal Krage or Lieutenant Googlie? Googlie's your commander, not I, remember? And at least Krage is in your squad!"

While Kazin took a drag on the cigarette, Hydro explained, "Well, sir, it's like... er... I mean, you were my commander during the underground period, and I know you and trust you and I know that you're a decent person, so I can say, you know... and trust you, because I know you can keep a secret, and stuff..."

Kazin rolled his eyes. "And what do you have to say? Go ahead- stop beating around the bush. Thanks for the compliment, by the way."

Hydro sat on her haunches and stared off down Zaibatsu Road while she spoke. "I... I guarded some reporter while she was taken here. I was told that she was going to interview Domai..."

"FOREMAN Domai."

"Whatever. But I just saw them go to work on the bruise she got during capture, and I got to wondering why they were dolling her up, and... well... what if the Foreman rapes her? I mean, he could do that now. He has the entire city under his control, and everyone, besides me, you know, in that room is personally loyal to him, maybe more than they are to the MOVEMENT, right? What if he just starts, like, you know... What do I do?"

Kazin took a long drag, and spoke after he exhaled and breathed. "What do you think you should do? It would be rather hypocritical, you know... one of the grievances we always preached about was how our bosses would take advantage of us."

Hydro grimaced as painful memories were brought up. "So, like, if he starts abusing his power, than he's just like the managers, right? And we're supposed to kill them, right? So I should shoot him."

Kazin tossed the butt into the street, and spoke as he took another one from the pack, "That's it, then. If he "does" her, you "do" him one in the head. Simple as that. Good luck. I gotta go. Good-bye, Private."

Private Hydro stood up and saluted. "Good-bye, sir. Thank you!"

Kazin yelled over his shoulder, "You're welcome!"

-----------------------------------------------------

Commissioner Lal's personal subway train sped through the underbelly of UN Headquarters. For security reasons, the actual UN Building; which was modeled after the first building dedicated to the UN in New York City; was located on a hilltop away from the residential, commercial, and industrial centers. Soon, the track would emerge from the underground, and become a raised monorail reminiscent of the "Bullet Train" of Earth. However, Lal's mind was not on his surroundings, but instead on the incoming videophone call from CEO Morgan. Lal twisted his lips into an obviously fake smile as CEO Morgan's face come on the screen. "CEO Morgan! What a pleasant surprise, particularly at this hour."

Morgan responded in a tone that was also obviously fake. "Dreadfully sorry, Commissioner Lal. However, I felt that this couldn't wait. Rioters have taken..."

Lal truly smiled while Morgan explained what Lal already knew. He thought to himself, "He has no idea... he is so easy to spy on."

Morgan concluded, "...and I was wondering if you could send in a peacekeeping force to restore order."

"No."

"Morganco will fully reimburse the United Nations for any energy spent. I will also make up for any losses to personnel and material assets."

"The United Nations does not accept bribes."

"This isn't a bribe! Look at your own history! We are merely paying that which is required of us."

This audacity infuriated Lal. "What is REQUIRED? When the United Nations REQUIRED that you let in inspectors to make sure your workers were being treated properly, you refused to allow them in without a fight! Perhaps if you actually did what was REQUIRED of you, you wouldn't be in this situation! LAL OUT!"

Lal went from his chair to the futon and lay down. As he drifted into a nap, he muttered to himself, "I've been away from Pria too long. Too long. I'm so tense. Too long..."

------------------
--President Jakjon
--Datalinks

**President Jakjon** · March 12, 2000, 01:23

"Centauri Socialism"
By President JakJon
Chapter Five: "The Shame of the Morganites"
(Acknowledgment: Lincoln Steffens.)

Natalie Davis was led onto the platform. The Drones had decided to conduct the interview in a gigantic automated refinery for its industrial ambiance. She saw her crew handling the studio-class camera that the Drones must have stolen from the Morgan Media studio. Two basic metal chairs sat in front of the camera at a cliched forty-five degree angle.

A brutish man sat in the left chair. Davis could see that he had the stereotypical drone physique. His face showed slight signs of a chemical burn. His brown hair was cropped short, and his muscles were developed for use, not show. He wore a standard hazardous environment suit, minus the helmet.

Behind the camera, her crew was setting up the wiring, testing the lighting; and doing all those other esoteric tasks that they would, under normal conditions, be well paid for. However, demanding a salary seemed to be a bad idea at this juncture. At least the Drones had fed her and the crew.

The drones had forced her to sit at the same table as them, something which strange to Natalie Davis. She had timidly expressed her discomfort, but it had been met with angry looks and a monologue from some political honcho about "solidarity" and "equality." To Natalie, solidarity described how well-constituted nutrient paste was; and the swill at the table was gooey and bland. If she hadn't been ravenously hungry, Natalie wouldn't have gone near it. The drones at the table agreed that it was one of the best meals of their lives.

-----------------------

Lieutenant Kazin jogged into the lobby of the Hotel Gould. Not much of the opulent ascetic styling remained, as the Gould was one of the first targets in the Revolution. The Free Drones had to prevent any high-level Morganite criminals from escaping justice.

Fortunately, the sea of shattered glass that had once covered the floor was now swept off to the sides. He saluted the guards on the run as he sped down the hall to the auditorium. He was late, but all he had missed was the preamble. The auditorium held 600 people, and it was nearly full.

On the stage, Commander Enriquez was finishing the opening, "So I hope that all of you replacements have been brought up to speed. If you have questions, ask your squad." As Enriquez and his command staff began to erect some large maps on larger easels, Lieutenant Kazin tried to find his platoon.

He finally did, and set down in the nearest empty seat. He heard a poorly suppressed laugh off to his left. Kazin stood and went to its source. He clasped his hands behind his back and glared at the offender. In a quiet, yet menacing voice, he addressed the now-solemn man in front of him. "Private, what exactly did you find humorous about my arrival?"

"I... you were late, and I thought it was strange, you know, a Lieutenant being late."

"What is your name, Private?"

"Private Zinn, sir."

Commander Enriquez's voice filled the auditorium, "Our battalion has been attached to the newly formed First Mobile Infantry Brigade, commanded by General Covelia; along with the First and Fourth Mobile Infantry battalions, and the Second Cavalry Company. Our objective is to liberate Morgan Manufacturing from the corporatists."

Lieutenant Kazin pivoted and returned to his seat. "It is imperative that we do this as soon as possible in order to catch the Morganites off-guard. We won't be alone, as our comrades in the underground there are ready to attack from inside. Therefore, we will assault the affluent suburban area on the north side, while the local drones take over the industrial south. We will proceed to link up in the commercial city center. Our role is to provide a distraction, not a shooting gallery. You are to cause just enough damage to force the Morganites to move their troops north to counter us. Once that happens, our compatriots will rise and destroy the enemy."

"We will form the center of the formation, with Fourth Mobile on our left and the First on our right. They will guard our flanks as we penetrate further into Morgan Manufacturing. The Cavalry will protect us from any enemy forces that come behind us, and also stop enemy breakthroughs at the front. As to our own organization: B Company will take point, D Company will be on the western flank, C will be in the East, and A Company..." Lieutenant Kazin's ears perked up in response to the mention of his company. "...will be in the rear, providing reinforcements as they become necessary. To get to Morgan Manufacturing, we will ride on the Second Cav's vehicles."

Commander Enriquez then acquired an aspect like that of a Fundamentalist Revivalist Missionary after getting thoroughly cranked on "the opiate of the masses." He shouted, "FREEDOM!"

To which the soldiers responded, "NOW!!"

"SOLIDARITY!"

"ALWAYS!!"

"EQUALITY!"

"VICTORY!!!"

------------------
--President Jakjon
--Datalinks
[This message has been edited by President Jakjon (edited March 13, 2000).]

Announcement

(Unitled for now) chapter 1

(Unitled for now) chapter 1

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