D8 Droid

D8-M4

D8 is a M4 utility droid that was built by X to keep the ship in relatively good repair. M4s were the first to be able to leave the confines of the ship, travel along its outer hull through a series of mag-track pads in its rear roller, and repair breaches.

The M4 series was quickly replaced by larger M5 construction droids and the M6, more complex variants that were designed to carry weaponry. Back in the day, no ship in the quadrant would go to space without at least one or two M4's on board - used to constantly maintain and repair the ship's systems.

D8 is now part of the crew of the Lady Luck

Nutri-Bars

Space Colony

Any new Colony would need to keep its members healthy and well-fed. As securing protein and food materials from local flora and fauna would be difficult if not impossible for the first few years, an easily transported source of food would be needed.

As this need would contribute to the ever-widening colonization market, several earth-based companies produced nutritional supplement bars. These meal bars were full of immunization medication, vitamins, protein and calories.

The basic formula for the bars was that each one could keep one adult alive for one day.

The flavorings were not the best. Some companies experimented with beef and chicken additives but none were able to truly capture enough flavoring to make them a hot commodity.

Nutri-bars became the food stores of the moderately poor colonists. Flavor wasn't the largest priority.

Some colonists were known to add a Nutri-bar to a soup or stew and cover the bland taste with other seasonings that were available.

INSPIRATION: Firefly (Serenity), Lost In Space (movie)

MutEx Scouts / Pirates

Mut-Ex (MU-TEX)

Mutant Exploration

Mutant Exploration of space.

Humans were considered poorly suited for deep space exploration so the scientific community decided to make some improvements. The scientists borrowed DNA from various animals to increase stamina, agility and muscle density. A few of the MutEx Scouts were given above normal intellects so be able to handle the multitude of navigation calculations more efficiently.

Most scouts were never heard from again; considered a lost cause and never searched for if lost. Hundreds of MutEx scout ships were sent out to find new homes for the citizens of Earth. Only 9 found anything close to a habitable world. Eight were deemed appropriate for colonization and were put on the fast track to be converted to a habitable atmosphere or for the construction of surface domes.

The ninth world, a medium-sized moon, was considered to be too hazardous for navigation and left alone. There were several rumors that one of the more intelligent MutEx scouts was able to overcome the psychological conditioning to obey his orders and found a world for himself and others like him. MutEx scout ships were not designed for inter-atmosphere travel; primarily to search out worlds with breathable or near-breathable atmospheres from orbit. If all of the MutEx scout ships crashed into their hidden world, there would be no threat. If any of them survived, they would be bound to the planet.

The problem is that they did survive and the Scouts, with their genetic enhancements, flourished. While the new eight colony worlds were being established and the settlers pushed their way out from Earth to their new homes, the Scouts turned themselves into pirates; attacking colony ships for provisions and materials.

It was because of the MutEx pirates that the Colonization Council established an armed patrol to escort the ships.

MutEx Pirates are the stuff of legend. Some say that they eat the people they catch on board the ships and others believe that they eject them to space. Either way, MutEx "MU-tex" has become a synonym for danger; a space-faring bogey man.

Two or three generations of being exposed to a number of different types of radiation has warped their appearance and that of their children giving them an almost monstrous appearance.

INSPIRATION: Reavers (Firefly), Morloc (Time Machine)

Mesa Settlements

The idea of a Mesa (technically a butte) is very alluring to me. It's a big tower of rock in the middle of a vast expanse of flat ground.

I have been looking at them for years and wondering, as many people probably do, "what does it look like on top?"

As some of the buttes have a raised 'skirt' around their base it made me think of the defensive constructions used in medieval castles. The raised area was to strengthen the tower and made it more difficult for someone to assault the base.

So then the idea hit me that the Buttes were sort of like "Desert Towers" or Castles in the Desert. Well, if you're going to have a tower, you're going to have people living in them. And if you're going to have castles you're going to have to have someone to protect yourself from.

This got my mind working but nothing ever felt like it was the right thing.

Some of the Buttes that I found may not have the best tops so I thought that maybe they could be tunneled into like caves so that people wouldn't be subjected to the harsh winds at that altitudes.

A butte with tunnels and caves would suggest a community. It would certainly take some sizable effort and food coordination to feed enough workers to hollow out such places.

And then, if I could tie a few of those buttes together (if they were naturally clustered together) then you could have settlements of several buttes as a colony or community.

See where I'm going here? It's almost like a Seich in Dune.
If you could tie them together with rope-bridges then you'd have a community that only touched the ground when needed.

And that left the question: what are they keeping off the ground from?

In Dune they had to face huge sand worms that were the size of several buses strung end to end. That seemed a bit too much. It's not like you'd ever be surprised by one of them coming. So long as you could just get out of their way you wouldn't be hurt by them but they might tear up a harvester from time to time.

However, something smaller - like this creatures from Tremors, would be fast enough to be able to sneak up on someone from under the earth and snatch them like a real predator.

One way to escape these predators (which can tunnel through the soft desert soil but have a tough time with rocks like the butte), would be to stay off the ground. Enter... a glider.

Though the only form of a hang glider I could find looks like a flying triangle, I'm sure that in a fantasy sense, someone could find a more interesting construction. How would they make it?

Simple: you hunt the things that also fly.

So I threw a Pterodactyl into this desert ecology and, of course, have to throw in herds of something that it can hunt; probably antelope.

The flying lizards could be a real threat to any kind of surface creature as they could swoop down from neighboring heights and pluck them from the earth. Also, they could be a problem for the mesa communities because the buttes would be their favorite nesting sites.

Their wing leather would be highly prized by the glider-makers as it's proven to be light and strong enough to handle the wind-sheer.

Antelope meat would only be part of these people's diet so they would have to find some other means to grow crops - perhaps on the tops of the buttes.

Firefly: Independence Ridge

From the Firefly-Verse

Independence Ridge

It was the last days of the War between the Brown Coats and the Alliance. Independence Ridge was several miles away was intended to be a support position for the valley, named Serenity, below. The plateaus that made up the ridge were a mixture of anti-aircraft emplacements and artillery bunkers. The ridge was also where several civilians had been relocated as an evac position but had been grounded by the approaching Alliance forces; arriving for the fight ahead of schedule.

The Independence did not have the resources of the Alliances. The planet, Hera, had been a major production facility for the Independence and its discovery would bring the War to head. If the planet fell, so too would the Independence. Civilians of every shade who had come to serve in the Independence war effort were being pulled out and sent to fall-back positions to continue the constant demands of the “Brown Coats”, the Independence’s own army. Supplies, civilians and aircraft were all grounded when the fighting began. Nothing was getting off the planet and it was up to the forces on the ridge to ensure that nothing was getting on; not without paying dearly.

After the first few days of the fighting, there wasn’t anyone no one left in charge on the ridge above a sergeant. Fighting on some of the plateaus had devolved into knives and fists in some instances. No one had reinforcements to send and no means to send them. The Independence was loosing and the there was no sign of reinforcements.

Corporal Ramey had become a Sergeant when the last filed-promoted corporal had been shot three days ago. He was in charge. He had joined the Independence to fight for the freedom to make his own choices rather than face the reality of the perfect police state of the Alliance. He had less than three dozen coats with him, and a fourth of them were civilians who had picked them off of the dead; grabbing a rifle to hold the perimeter along side seasoned soldiers.

Their position was half destroyed from sub-orbital bombardment; a miracle of Independence engineering that it actually managed to survive this long. They had no tactical position within the fight, their ordinance was half-depleted in the bombardment leaving them with only their own personal weapons to defend the position. There was no means of escape off the ridge, it was far too steep to climb and with the fighting still heavy in the valley below anyone who attempted it would be picked easily. Ramey was left with the duty to hold the position.

The civilians who he was trying to protect numbered almost twice his own troops, but most of them were not able to fight; not enough weapons to go around. Ramey’s promotion had come when a crashing Alliance gun ship had destroyed a section of their bunker that was being cleared to evacuate the position. Their escape had been cut off. Twelve Coats and twice as many civilians had died in the collapse. One of the people who had pulled the civilians together and managed to organize them after the cave-in was a man that always seemed to respond to the yell for a “Medic”.

Ramey remembered seeing him a few times since the fighting started; most notably after they were hit and the first cave-in cut off their escape. Occasionally he could remember seeing him skulking here and there in the bunker, pulling people to do odd jobs and generally keeping people out of the way of the soldiers who stood perimeter.

“Lieutenant… take this…”

The voice was unfamiliar but insistent. Ramey couldn’t place it but he was semi-distracted by the wailing of short-range artillery in the valley below.

The light was low, only the occasional flickering of concealed oil lamps in the rooms away from the front of the bunker.

The “Medic” was holding a small cup of brown broth, offering it to him. A smear of grime besmirched his face, giving him somewhat of a comical expression.

“Thanks…,” Ramey paused as he reached out to take cup; quickly scanning the other troopers around him to make sure that they had chow before he would accept it.

The medic seemed to catch the shift of his eyes and smirked a bit, “Yes, Lieutenant, they have been served.”

Ramey didn’t appreciate the smirk but accepted the broth anyway.

“Are you going to let me take a look at that?” The medic asked while the lieutenant’s thoughts immediately returned to the battle.

Ramey just glanced back to the medic curiously; having no idea what the man was asking about. He followed the man with his eyes as he reached for his leg, almost instinctively readying himself to butt-stroke him. It was then that he realized that his pants had a gash through them. Covered in dust and day-dry blood, he had cut himself on something but had been too preoccupied to really notice it.

“No, it’s fine. Save the meds for those who need it.”

“Don’t worry, I will, but since you’re the one who’s going to keep us together, I need you in one piece.”

Ramey wasn’t about to let someone work on him. He was quite capable of fixing himself. His shin would be a bit difficult to reach with the trauma plate covering his chest but he would make due. He didn’t like people touching him; especially medics. He glared at the medic before him in a silent order to move back.

The two men would easily have gotten into a heated argument about dressing the wound. Ramey insisting that his orders were to be followed at all times; even if that meant to leave him, and his wound, alone. The medic did not have a chain of command to follow, he wasn’t, technically, a soldier of the Independence. Both had a duty to follow and were equally as stubborn about it; one to the health of the people and one to the success of the battle.

Ramey put the cup of soup down and pushed himself to his feet, preparing for the first challenge to his authority. The medic stood as well, his expressionless eyes flicking side-to-side slightly as he began to pick up on the Lieutenant’s body language.

“Listen…” Ramey began coldly.

“…Medic,” an urgent voice called out from another room in the bunker.

His head spun around to find the source a second before his body turned to follow; someone was in trouble. Ramey reached out to grab a hold of the medic and answer the question of authority once and for all but was interrupted by one of his troopers calling out for him.

“Sir… we have contact in-bound.”

“Report,” Ramey barked.

“Gun-Ship on approach. She’s setting down on the south platform in one minute.”

“And you’re just now picking it up?” The medic already tweaked Ramey’s temper and it was all the more aggravated with this surprise.

“… shadowed a transport; didn’t see the echo until just now.”

“First and second squads on me. Third squad, hold this position and get the civilians out of the way. Prepare for ground assault!” Ramey barked out his orders as the rising sense of foreboding crawled into his mind. This could be it.

Gotta job to do…

Hold the position…

The troops filed out of the forward area of the bunker, grabbing grenades and weapons as they fell in line behind Ramey on the way to the entrance hatch. They would make a stand of it; such as they could. The narrow hall would give the Brown Coats an advantage but the Alliance would have more ordinance and better supplied troops.

The woosh of the gun ship could be heard beyond the entrance. They were close. As the first Alliance troops neared the entrance, they seemed unaware that anyone might be holding the remains of the bunker. The first five fell to the claymores hidden in the rocks. The fight for their small corner of Independence Ridge had begun.

Intruder Alert

Part 2 of "Maltharians in Space"

"Intruder Alert."

"Wha?"

"Intruder Alert."

"We've got problems."

"Yeah, no kidding. "

"What's this 'we'?"

"Intruder Alert."

"The WE in this detention cell."

"We're aboard a Tinari cruiser. What in the hell could board usunles it was something very bad?"

"Intruder Alert."

"Yeah, but they're not going to be coming after us."

"You're sure about that?"

"Hey, all I did was fall asleep at my post."

"Intruder Alert."

"Uh huh... and I 'just' missed chapel for the past month."

"What are you in for, Ensign?"

"I don't know."

"Intruder Alert."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Security picked me up coming off shift and told me that I was being detained until the Captain could question me."

"What did the old man want?"

"Intruder Alert."

"That's just it. He didn't ask me anything really. He just read my report from the mission to the ruins on the planet we hit a few days ago."

"That must have been some report."

"Quiet Jar. What -did- he ask?"

"I wish I could see down the hallway."

"Intruder Alert."

"Where're all of the Security Guards?"

"He asked if I saw Commander Ryn collect some artifacts from the ruins. I told him that I did and that it was all in my report."

"Sounds like he didn't want you to see that."

"Intruder Al..."

"What happened?"

"Emergency Power Engaged."

"Shit, now we're on back up power and back-up lights."

"All personnel should go to code beta."

"Oh shit."

'What does that mean?"

"Didn't you ever study your regs?"

"It means that everyone on board should arm themselves and prepare to defend the ship at all costs."

"What the HELL is going on out there."

"Hey, do you hear that?"

"It sounds like weapons fire."

"Yeah, probably on the deck ahead of us."

"Is that... screaming?"

"I'm getting out of here."

"How, the security field..."

"... has been disconnected when we went to emergency power."

"Escaping the brig is considered a capital offense. They shoot you for that."

"Yes, but whatever's invading the ship will probably shoot us before they can get to that."

"Jar, see what you can do."

"What were these ruins, Ensign?"

"I don't know Chief. I was just there to check for any available technology for R&D."

"Those shots are getting closer."

"Well then get your ass in gear, Jar."

"Aye Chief."

"Did you find anything?"

"No, just a high concentration of poly-obsidian compounds and residual nero-genic energy signatures."

"What?"

"Got it."

"Jar, can you hack into a weapons locker?"

"Sure Chief, why?"

"I know who's boarded the ship."

"Who?"

"Malthaians."

Maltharians in Space

"Sir, Maltharian Heavy Cruiser decloaking off the starboard bow."

"What? Are they charging weapons?"

"She's launching shadow-fighters."

"Dammit! Hail them!"

"Receiving transmission sir. We're to stand down our weapons and clear out of their way."

"What?!"

"They claim a right of revenge on the Tanari Fleet."

"The whole fleet?"

"Aye Sir."

"Blood Oath...damn."

"They're crazy."

"No Ensign, they're Maltharians. o as they said. Get us out of the fight."

"Yes Sir."

"But not too far. I want to see this."

"Sir, nothing can stand up against the combined firepower of a Tanari fleet."

"You've not seen Maltharians in battle, son. No Tanari ship will survive."

"Sir, incoming transmission from the lead Tanari ship."

"On Screen."

"Captain, stand down your ship and prepare to be boarded. Surrender yourself and I'll spare your mutanous crew."

"I think you have bigger problems, Admiral."

"Blashphemers! Target Margosa's ship and inform the Maltharians not to interfere."

"Shadow-Fighters on approach, Admiral."

"Good bye, Admiral."

"Destroy the Inferno! Captain Margosa must not be allowed to escape!"

"Admiral, our weapons are off line."

"What?!"

"Intruder alert. Intruder alert."

"I'd get to an escape pod if I were you, Admiral."

"Impossible."

"They're coming out of the shadows all over the ship!"

"Security lock-down. Repell borders."

"I'll see you are damned for this, Margosa."

"Watch out for Shadows, Admiral. Sometimes they move."

Seven Seas

A. Thruster Pods
B. Helm
C. Anti-Asteriod Beams
D. Cargo Deck
E. Unknown
F. Torpedo Tubes (sensor shooters?)
G. Cargo access under the neck.

Of One Mind

The idea of a symbiot joining with a human host has been used over and over again within Science Fiction. Generally the symbiot is some evil, alien creature that steals the mind of the host and dominates his will. But what if the 'blending' were not something akin to rape but something more like marriage?

In the not-to-distant future, an alien ship with thousands of such symbiotes arrives in earth's orbit. Unfortunately with the number of hosts dwindling to get them to our planet, they are unable to keep the ship from crashing into the surface of the earth for too long. The military forces of the world can't keep the secret of their existence for long and before a week, every news service is carrying the story. The 'crew' of the alien ship is running out of time and sends down life pods to attempt to find those willing to join with them and plead their case directly. Since they only know what they and their host knows, any attempt to communicate wihle they were in orbit was reduced to a hap-hazard attempt at mathematical codes and re-crunched radio signals.

Small pods fall around the world and soon a small 'diplomatic envoy' attempts to plead their case before the UN. In exchange for various medical and hordicultural advances, the UN offers the alien race a small element of a treaty. With their ship damaged and hosts slowly becoming available (though the U.S. Military refuses to relax their guard and promises to shoot it from the sky if they so much as twitch the wrong direction), a small Embassy is created in the US. Through this, candidates can be screened for genetic compatibility and psychological stability. The US prohibits any ex-fellons, persons with criminally dysfunctional mental conditions and other such people from entering the testing.

"Joined-Citizens" become an uncommon but occasional mix into several of the nations capital cities. The Joined, as one media source termed them, quickly rise to the exclusive level of rank, wealth and priviledge - plying their advanced technology to other companies. A serious concern of the world's governments is the integration of the Joined into their market economy. They can not permit the addition of a perpetually renewing energy source without first finding an alternative use for those in that market. How does an oil company compete with a small company that can produce cheap, clean, unending power anywhere and at any time without any risk to the environment?

The Alien Technological Integration Committee, an international consortium of politicians, holds control over what alien technology can be released to the public market and how. Bribes to influence their decision began to pour in almost immediately and corruption caused the A.T.I.C. to be disolved and reconstituted three times in seven years. By the end of this, the wealth acquired by the Joined was pooled and land purchased off the coast of South America.

Where no island once stood, the Island of Atlan (Atlantis to many believers) rose above the waves in a single day and night. The island would be the home of the Joined, allowing them to develop their technology without the meddling of bureaucrats and politicians. Having all the hosts needed to continue their race indefinately, they became increasingly isolationist and focused their attention at rebuilding the world that was lost to them.

Their technology slowly made its way into other nations with a more enlightened and less greed-based motivation. The Joined began to decide where their technology would be shared and where it would not. When terroritsts attempted to bomb their island and it was discovered that the Joined were not so defenseless as previously thought, the US demanded access to their entropic shield technology.

They were refused.

The secrets of the Joined would remain their secrets until the Human Race matured. Though small bits of their technology were sold across the world, the process of its manufacture was not.

The warring nations of the world united against a common cause, the Joined, and launched a joint armada to surround their island and prevent ships or aircraft from leaving or approaching; attempting to force them to capitulate. The Joined embassidors were threatened with arrest if they did not reveal their technology to their host nations. The world was poised upon the brink of an inter-species war.

With their shield technology, the Joined ships could not be attacked while their embassidors were collected from around the world. Those who had shown them kindness and civility were welcomed to leave with them and return to their island home. A mass exodus of the Joined and their close allies was echoed with threats of nuclear detonation and sea-based bombardment. While warships prepared to launch their strikes which were uncertain if they would have any effect upon their shields, the news media of the world condemned the technological greed of their governments.

Over night, the island, protected by its shield, began to sink beneath the waves. Conventional weapons were launched in a vain attempt to count coup against a vastly superior enemy, but by the dawn there remained only the warships and a warning:

Do not approach.

Of course, the militaries of the world would not be stopped so easily and several failed attempts were launched to breach the undersea kingdom of the Joined. No word would be sent from the divers upon final approach to their target and then, a week later, they would be found on a distant shore with little memory of his failure.

Archaeologists and Scientists, attempting to crack the language of the Joined, finally discovered the connection when an off-beat researcher identified some characters on a platinum page as similiar to the Joined. Through an extrapolated computer translation model, they were able to translate the page that was previously thought to be a hoax. The page's message sent shockwaves through the academic and scientifiic communities of the world and raised more questions than ever before.

The message read:

Expeditionary Ship successfully launched to return to homeworld. Estimated time for rescue to be approximately fifteen years. Acquire suffecient hosts from local populations to survive until rescue. Experimental communications beam possible for implementation within the next six months. Problems harnessing available geo-thermal energy may create chain-reaction within sea floor and destroy up to twenty percent of city. Evacuate as necessary to prevent catastrophic reaction.

The truth of the Joined had been discovered. Their 'rescue ship' had returned thousands of years too late and now had simply vanished beneath the waves.