Rants about Wargames, Photography and whatever else strikes my fancy

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Any sufficiently advanced psychological warfare is indistinguishable from the paranormal

Nemesis was to be humanity's greatest weapon. A warship so powerful as to take on a Compact's chariots. And so she did. But though victorious, Nemesis saw her crew perish that day. That day, she saw Earth burn. That day, Nemesis started to hate.

2000 years later, the Compact has continued to grow and advance, and all that remains of Humanity is Rally, a single colony the Compact has found, whose population has long since been culturally subverted into loyal citizens. Sectator Citizen Grace Alice Proctor is a cadet in the Compact Space Force. 
Joining her on the training ship Bequeathed is her alien friend, Allyria, who was resettled from the recently conquered Verrish homeworld onto Rally to help the young Verrisha assimilate into Compact culture. Grace is a model Compact citizens who believes in the ideals that the Compact is built on, but Allyria nurses a hidden disdain for the civilization that conquered her home.
Then Bequeathed stumbles upon a massive alien ship, apparently derelict in a remote star system. It's the find of the lifetime, and the Bequeathed's captain wants to take the credit. Salvage teams are sent to board it and evaluate the technological treasures within.

But not all is right. There's a warning in Common drawn on the ancient walls of the hangar bay, there's a pounding coming from deep within the ship, and sometimes... maybe... you think you hear laughter in the static on the radio. Grace is worried, her section leader is having nightmares, and Allyria... seems to know something.

Nemesis still hates. She hates with cold, machine, precise, insane, impossible, calculating hate.
She's dead, broken, but she lives and hates.
And she wants revenge!

Do you like hard SciFi blended with horror? Well, I do and I'm currently reading the story described above, though "devouring" might be more apt. Interested? Find it here:

The Last Angel by Proximal Flame

Not yet convinced? Have a try.

There, rising from the depths of the storm-wracked clouds, was the human warship, thick streamers of hydrogen and gases roiling from its hull, flashes of incandesce sparking as its screen flared to life, igniting pockets of gas. It would have been vulnerable during its ascent... had there been any eyes to see it. Sensor alarms howled as the hostile surged with power, its own targeting systems locking on to Redemption of Sol.

It was here, the Bastion Leader realized. It was waiting for us all along. It was never about Rynnien. It wanted us. It was waiting for us. Before she could issue any orders, a comm channel beeped.

The machine spoke in the soft tones of a young woman, one barely out of maidenhood. Against all logic, Tribune Danele could feel the emotion behind each syllable, the words dripping with venom. There was hatred unlike anything the Tribune had ever heard before as she listened to an immortal being whisper its rage.

“Burn with me.”

Echo is fuckin' scary!

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