Sector Stories | Short Story Thread

A spot to post RPs of minor note, similar in scope to the old Chronicles from across the sector. Since most of those are axed/not canon, I thought I’d reopen chronicles for the new canon.

Credits to @killermantiss for original concept, find the original thread here

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Peacekeepers
Irithine System
Solis IV
Firm SDR Control
Six Hours into Patrol.




Image: Prosecutor 5-5 at Checkpoint Dagger 4-72. Solis IV is a winter world, way out of the system’s goldilocks zone. However, some Valseni call it home, and thus the Serniani also call it home.



Composition - Command Personnel Dossier

211th Specialist Platoon “Prosecutor 5-5”

Warrant Officer 2nd Class Cassandra “Cassy” Veni

Warrant Officer 3rd Class Minako Nostel

Garrison/HQ: Solis IV

Logistics Ship: N/A


Cassandra “Cassy” Veni
DOB 11/19/123
19E
ENLISTED []
WARRANT OFFICER [X]
OFFICER []

WOCS GRADUATION 13/11/157
BCT GRADUATION 21/10/154

RIBBONS AND AWARDS

Operation Downward Wind Service Medal (P For Peacekeeper)
Combat Readiness Medal
Restricted Duty Medal

SKILL BADGES
Military Freefall Badge, Masters
Orbital Shock Trooper Badge, Senior



Minako Nostel
DOB 02/15/124
19D
ENLISTED []
WARRANT OFFICER [X]
OFFICER []

WOCS GRADUATION 01/01/162
BCT GRADUATION 11/19/159

RIBBONS AND AWARDS

Operation Downward Wind Service Medal (P For Peacekeeper)
Combat Readiness Medal
Restricted Duty Medal

SKILL BADGES
Military Freefall Badge
Orbital Shock Trooper Badge, Basic

SWORN, CASSANDRA VENI, WARRANT OFFICER SECOND CLASS

I, Cassandra Veni, certify to the best of my ability that the information listed above is true and accurate. This Dossier was filed on the 21st of Noia pending immediate deployment to Solis IV.

[LS:AR] “Cassy, when do we get to leave this wintery hellscape?”

[W2:CV] “Three Days.”

[LS:AR] “Three days?? Are we so low on ground huggers they are putting Shock Troopers on patrol duty?”

[S:MA] “I signed up to drop into Valseni Population Centers, not patrol a desolate winter hellscape.”

[AS:AV] “Keep your finger on the safety, anybody else-”

[W3:MN] “Vehicle! Single Occupant, road sagging!”

[LS:AR] “VBIED?”

[S:MA] “Smoke grenade?”

[W3:MN] “Too close! Ava! SAW! It’s speeding up!”

[AS:AP] “On it! On it!”

Shots ring out, as the vehicle slows to a stop, before it explodes.

[W2:CV] “Good judgement, Minako.”

[W3:MN] “Thank Ava, she’s got an excellent shot on the MG229.”

[S:MA] “We should key into base and let HQ know we’re being hit with constant VBIED attacks, this is like the third one. Surely they’d give us an engineer, this place is rundown as it is, and we might as well start gathering wood to just block the road as is.”

[W2:CV] “HQ won’t let us block the road, there are people who need to access the Firebase behind us.”

[LS:AR] “Just key into HQ and let them know. It’s gonna be a long Hundred Eight Hours if we can’t get reinforcements or an engineer, or hell, even another prefab house.”

[W2:CV] “Fair enough, I’ll get on that now.”

Cassandra keys in her radio to HQ

[W2:CV] “Prosecutor 5-5, anybody reading this?”

[O4:KI] “Stronghold Actual. What’s up?”

[W2:CV] “Any possible chance of getting an engineer to reinforce Checkpoint Dagger 4-72? Three VBIEDs in the last four hours of getting on post. We’re not set for 108 hours.”

[O4:KI] “Yeah, the engineering team took lead, guerrillas seem to know whenever they come out. Just grab some Phasewood and block the road, we’ll let you know in advance when we send teams out to relieve you.”

[W2:CV] “…Wonderful. Prosecutor 5-5 over and out.”

Cassandra powers off her radio

[W2:CV] “Hey Mathea, go grab your axe, your lucky day.”

[S:MA] “For real?! Finally!”

[W2:CV] “Yeah, HQ’s Engi Teams keep getting ambushed. Grab some and block the road, there’s a couple trees behind us.”

A few hours pass as the platoon piles the Phasewood in front of the Barbed Wire, and in front of the gate.

[S:MA] “That ought to hold up to a car or something.”

[AS:AV] “It ought to keep us safe until they can get an engi team here to give us a real gate that won’t break.”

[W3:MN] “Maybe they’ll give us a waveform gun, save on ammo costs with energy weapons.”

[AS:AV] “That’d never happen in a million years.”

[W3:MN] “I’m patient.”

[AS:AV] “Hah! Fair enough.”

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Hidden In Plain Sight | 0 BBT

A group of merchant ships descended towards the space port and outskirts of a small town on some backwater planet. This amount of traffic was highly unusual, but nobody thought much of it. That was until soldiers started to pour out of their cargo holds. Their uniforms were fully black with the exception of their bright-red gloves.

Any police officers or soldiers from the local garrison that tried to fight back were either killed or captured. They soon started going around the town and rounding up all non-humans, people with genetic mutations, mental illnesses or anybody who showed signs of resistance. Some took control of the broadcast station and begun transmitting.

“We are the Red Hand. It is our mission to rid the Republic of all xenos, impure and deviants who corrupt our society and pray on our downfall. Cease your pointless resistance, for you cannot prevent the inevitable Terran dominance. Glory to the Red Hand! Glory to Terra!”

At this moment sound of thousands of guns thundered throughout the town as bodies of the prisoners fell onto the streets. A black flag with a red hand painted on it rose above the town hall.

In the mayors office the raiding parties leader spoke with the mayor.

“Congratulations, you are now a part of the Terran Republic. If you even attempt to betray it, you and your family are as good as dead. If you think you can hide things from us, believe me, you can’t. I think this goes without saying, but the planets authorities won’t learn about any of this. Don’t worry, any of your prior cries for help didn’t reach them, my jammers made sure of it. Officially, you were attacked by pirates. You repulsed them, but suffered heavy losses. For now just do what you normally do and wait for new orders.”

With that, the Red Hand simply left. Of course some undercover members stayed behind to monitor the situation and find new recruits, but that was it. Yet another attack on some forgotten planet, hidden in plain sight.

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“We had our chance, and failed”

About 220,000 BBT, somewhere on the planet Ici-ioct - modern-day Ecteen

“My queen… how shall I put it…” The armour-clad insectoid’s antennae moved rapidly up and down making it clear he was very stressed about the situation. He continued. “This strike has a 99% chance of fully disabling their [the T’teer Republic’s] arsenal. We can end it all today if we act now. Victory. Peace!”

The queen’s antennae straightened out, forming a V. It was anger.

“Victory you say? When was the last time you looked out a window General? Almost the entire planet is a wasteland.”

“But our ancestors! Their sacrifice demands th…”

“They are dead! Our memories of them are dead!”

“Just this one last strike! I beseech you! It will be all over and we can rebuild!” The general’s antennae now also formed the shape of a V.

“The T’teer marshlands is the only strip of living land on this planet. I will not be the one who wiped out the last life so that we can dwell in sterile dust and at last declare it part of the Yitc’cee Empire.”

The general’s antennae now moved chaotically, an expression of panic.

“But if we don’t strike now, they will. They will wipe us out!”

The queen was silent for a few moments.

“I know… I’m sorry. I’m sorry my friend. We had our chance, and failed. Our species has failed. At least the mammalians will have a chance at surviving. They show great promise.”

A distant alarm went off.

“The T’teer… They have lunched!” the general shouted.

“My last official act will be to message them a plea to preserve the marshlands. And tell them about what transpired here today.”

Having sent her message, the queen and the general walked toward a large window facing north toward their ancient T’teer enemies. The queen’s once beautiful palace now enthroned upon the dark ruins of the ancient Yitc’cee capital. They soon ceased to exist as the enemy missiles detonated above the palace. The Yitc’cee Empire was no more.

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パレード



They say you should know you are happier than you realize


As it had been doing for the last five thousand years, the Parade marched forward in joyous unity. Confetti fell from the sky like colorful snow, as loud music filled the air with a dreams and heralded the arrival of this endless, great march. The sky always looked more blue when the Parade was near.

The Parade, or the “Parade Technotelepathic InternalVirt-Supporting Group Mind” as it was officially known in Imperial Records, was one of the oldest and weirdest technically embodied collective minds within the Terragen Empire - and considering what other beings and minds existed within it, that was really saying quite a lot. By being so old, it had slowly grown to enormous size, and by being one of the only constants in the ever-changing exotic cosmos that was the Empire, it had become part of the few things that could prize themselves to be recognized and known by nearly all citizens within the Shell and even beyond.

Whenever a sophont wished to join the Parade, all they would need to do was acquire and install a specialized addition to the neural implant they most likely already had, and then join the march. After a few moments, as the Parade realized that a new member was attempting to join, the sophont would be “let in” and their mind would be connected to the group mind. After being connected, their bodies would morph into a new form that matched their personality and the rest of the Parade, and entered a sort of “autopilot”-like mode that moved their body in a dance-like fashion, marching along, singing or playing an instrument. While the morphing process was initially considered exaggerately unnecessary by many in the first days of the collective, it was soon discovered that the changes were indeed necessary: the new forms assumed by members acted like improved photovoltaic structures, absorbing light to convert it into usable energy that would sustain the morphed bodies and their supported minds.



Minor theory is flimflam, hedonism is on sale


Although it was nearly impossible to explain what it was like to an outsider, the Parade’s interconnected minds came together to support a collective virtual reality, in which their members presumably live while part of the group, and through which they experience the physical world. While it is rare for those who join to eventually leave, some do, and always come back changed. Not physically, of course, as the morphing process that occurs when joining is fully reversed the moment a member leaves. But mentally, changes could be very considerable due to how exotic and transformative the experience was for anyone, giving them new approaches, ideologies and points of view for nearly everything. Funnily enough, “experience” was the term most often used by those who used to be a part of the Parade when trying to describe what it was like. A “beautiful experience”, in which all boundaries of thought and life and being itself broke down into a unified stream of dancing consciousness, moving randomly across the faded edge between the one and the many.

Having grown so large in numbers over time, the Parade was eventually given its very own Bishop Ring. While it agreed to be transferred from its original habitat, it refused to stop marching, and so a large enough HabShip had to be used to transfer them to the Bishop Ring, large and quick enough to allow them to keep on marching forward without hinderance.



Behold all that is liberty is a parody of utopia


Ever forward in celebration, the Parade kept marching on towards the curved horizon, the landscape rising up in hills and mountains on both of its sides like a cheering crowd. A unified stream of consciousness, dancing and rippling through the noosphere like a river. The sky always looked more blue when the Parade was near.

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Serene Swords Republic
Obelisk Station Concourse
Crash Course Bar
Skipper Melissa von Cordia | Aviator Hannah Ross | Aviator Michael Floxis

“Another round!”

The Crash Course Bar, full of a fleet’s worth of aviators, each one having done six years in the Sword Guard. Each one had upwards of six years in the Compact Aerospace Corps before leaving for the Voidsea. Exactly why a prudent skipper like Melissa von Cordia was scouting potential squadron leaders for her upcoming expedition to the RUW.

“My fleet just came into acquisition of an escort carrier. It fits two squadrons worth of nearly anything. I’m looking for aviators.”

“How much?”

“And for how long?”

“Depends on who you bring, and how good you are.”

“Where are you going that requires 48 to 96 pilots? I’ve got friends, but they wouldn’t go unless you got a place in mind.”

“I run the Ambor circuit.”

“You’re the Honeybee of Cordia?”

“Is that what people call me?”

“Yeah! Guys-”

“Not so loud.”

“Is something going on up there?”

“The past five years the circuits been fine, but this last time we got stopped. Our dual cruisers have Launch Bays and were barely able to scramble on time. We got the payload off, but a few seconds later…”

“You got a fright. You want aviators Incase things go to hell. Sword Guard is a hell of a place to recruit.”

“What do you get paid?”

“10k a year. Hazard pay is 35.”

“It’s better than whatever the compact is paying, that’s for sure.”

“How about this, we peek the carrier, and if you guys like what you see, we can discuss terms. Sound like a deal?”

“Deal. Lead the way, Honeybee.”

“Other thing. Don’t call me that.”

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