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[Fiction] Chronicles of the Nadiim-Basad

  1. Homeworld Senior Member  #1
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    Fiction [Fiction] Chronicles of the Nadiim-Basad

    Chronicles of the Nadiim-Basad

    Michael Ptak

    Based on the game “Homeworld 2” By Relic entertainment
    -------------------
    0.1
    The Old Way

    The galactic core came to know the Vaygr when Makaan rose from the deep east and attacked with the assembled might of his people. Before this, however, the Vaygr were known as a curious, tribal people in the deep east whose best form was when you weren’t in contact with them. They were dismissed by the rest of the galaxy as a band of self-destructive primitives, no better than the Turanic Raiders of yesterday.

    And in fact most of these assumptions were true. Little was known about the Vaygr people other than that they were a diverse and tribal people, with various cultures and customs bizarre in comparison to the norm of the core. They had no homeworld, and while some guessed the Vaygr people may be as old as even the Bentusi, this lack of a homeworld prevented them from achieving greatness.

    When Makaan attacked the core with his forces, not all of them represented the Vaygr people. Some of the old crusades, used to self-proclaiming messiahs and skeptical of this one, decided not to heed Makaan’s call and remain in the deep east. These ‘Feral Vaygr’ as they were coined by anthropologist Himiss S’jet after the war, were never blessed with higher technology. Instead, the Feral Vaygr clung to the old traditions in the deep east, and remained ignorant to the light Makaan shone to his own people.

    When the Armada failed, some of Makaan’s soldiers returned home to the old lands. While they had been expecting a homecoming, they received harsh incrimination and hostility at the hands of their brothers. Estranged in the best of terms and executed as heretics in the worst… the warriors that returned home lost everything when they made it to the old lands.

    Very few managed to escape the sad fate of the returned warriors. Among them was the Crusade Vardan. Returning penniless, the Crusade only managed to save face (and their necks) by selling the massive city-ship in their possession to another one of the feral crusades. This became one of the hotly contested ships in the Feral Vaygr and was the subject of several small wars of ownership over it. A compromise between five of the crusades made an alliance too strong for others to challenge, thus ending the struggle.

    The ex-Vardan shipyard, however, was contracted at times by other crusades to manufacture the higher-technology craft for other Crusades to use… at steep prices. Some were still willing to pay, and received the gifts that this massive shipyard-city could give to them.

    This was where the carrier Nadiim-Basad came from, despite her origins in the deep east. She was sub-contracted by Crusade Kahaada for a special purpose, as this particular tradition was usually done with ships not built of the crusade.

    The Crusade Lord of Kahaada had heard of this new shipyard, and felt it was quite appropriate to solve his own problem. It was the only way to settle unrest within his own Crusade, following the return of the warriors.

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

    Crusade Kahaada had a long and prestigious history of warriors, soldiers, and fighters. Though not the most aggressive Crusade known in the old times, they were certainly the most militaristic and successful. Unlike some other well-known aggressive crusades, recklessness did not impede success. Their warriors were patient, well-trained, fearless, and dangerous. The men were well sought out as mercenaries in other areas of the galaxy, and the women came unexpectedly trained in martial arts and self defense. It was a highly militaristic community, but had none of the Spartan sense Kiith Soban held on the other side of the galaxy.

    The downside to this society, however, was their strict adherence to the old ways. “Honor thy elder” was a prime command in the Crusade, and the family system was upheld with religious fervor.

    Thus came a problem when Makaan, Warlord of all Vaygr, emerged from the Hethheilm ice fields with a mysterious object he claimed would bring the Vaygr greatness.

    Many young men at the time rallied to Makaan’s call- including nearly half of Kahaada. The elders, skeptical as their other Crusade lords, debated over whether to heed this so-called prophet or dismiss him as another one of countless pretenders. In the end Kahaada decided to stay in the east… but her warriors did not. Though they were disowned by their own crusade, the warriors of Kahaada sallied with Makaan's forces and departed into the west.

    After Makaan died at Balcora, the offensive stumbled… and a year later Kahaada’s warriors returned.

    There was an uproar at their return. Though they disobeyed their leaders, they returned with wondrous stories of a land of plenty. The core, they said, was a region of space where no man went hungry. It was a place where every man and woman lived in luxury and wealth, and where technology was indistinguishable from magic.

    These stories of wonder only escalated the growing unrest within Crusade Kahaada. The elders were forced to make critical decisions and soon, or else witness the destruction of Kahaada as it tore itself apart.

    The elders finally made their grim decision: the warriors were to be put to death, in punishment of disobeying their elders.

    Upon hearing this, many of the warriors attempted to flee the Crusade. Some were caught by Kahaada’s military, but many more escaped into the darkness of space, never to be heard from again.

    This was fitting, the elders realized, as their capital punishment for dissidents and traitors was exile. Unfortunately, Kahaada’s problems were not over yet.

    Kahaada’s youth, like the warriors before them, had become bewitched by the stories of the core. After hearing of such a place, some wondered if Kahaada could be more prosperous by going to this place, and trying to mingle with the people there. If cohabitation was impossible- then conquest was still open to them. After all, wasn’t Kahaada one of the most successful of Crusades?

    News of this second wave of dissent reached the elders of the Crusade, who decided to put an end to it quickly. In a public declaration, the Crusade Elders and their elite guard forced from their homes anyone who had expressed a desire to go to the core. Tearing them from their families and destinies, the Elders proclaimed that these young people would be exiled from the Crusade to die, for disagreeing with the Elders and promoting disharmony within the crusade.

    The elders went out of their way to procure an alien ship to dispatch these aliens from their midst. That ship was the Nadiim-Basad, an Armada carrier. The clan elders thought this was appropriate since, after all, didn’t Makaan seek the same thing these impulsive youthes were? Let them die as he did.

    So the 147 dissenters from all walks of Kahaada life were loaded into the Nadiim-Basad, disowned from the Crusade, and ordered never to return.

    ----------


  2. Homeworld Senior Member  #2
    Tells a story Norsehound's Avatar
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    Fiction

    0.2
    The misfits

    The Vaygr day was divided into 20 hours. It made for an interesting comparison to other calendars, with the 20 hour day. Compared to the 24 hour cycle of the Hiigaran calendar, Vaygr months and days were relatively shorter.

    Within the Armada, Makaan had demanded his warriors transfer over to the 24 hour cycle. He felt it would better prepare his warriors to integrate with captured populations. The carrier was equipped thus, accordingly.

    A full Vaygr day passed, and Nadiim-Basad had not moved since it’s initial jump away from the crusade. The only thing it had done was launch the two resource collectors it came equipped with. These craft, operated by in-the-know officers, clumsily flew around attempting to harvest rock. At least they were trying to be productive.

    This, unfortunately, could not be said for the rest of the ship. Most of the population was milling about, afraid to touch anything out of ignorance of what it did. Those who were in the know didn’t care, and those who didn’t know were worse than useless. Everything about the ship pointed to its imminent destruction, based on the ignorance of her crew. This was how it was intended.

    Fate would have other plans for the crew… though not all of them would say it was fortunate.

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

    Rus was sure if he wasn’t deaf already, he would be soon.

    ‘Just Go here, and work this control.’ Was what he was told by one of the resource collector crews. So Rus climbed into the bowels of the ship, and now sat at a solitary position surrounded by louder-than-god machinery. He didn’t want to go deaf, but it wasn’t like he could do anything else either, really.

    Rus was 19. Were this still the Crusade, he would be finishing training in the Aschette- the Vaygr standard-issue sword. He would also be finishing his training in flight academy and be selected for the best craft suited for his body-type. It was not the wall all Crusades in the old lands did this, but it had been Kahaada’s way. All men were warriors since the age of 16.

    Now he was going deaf in the heart of a refinery.

    A light winked on the big yellow box before him. He tapped it, and a message scrolled across the dusty screen. Relieved, Rus climbed out of the refinery. He ascended what had to be thirty yard’s worth of a latter comprised of nothing more than metal J-shaped bars heading upward. Any slip here, and he’d end up as part of the next ship constructed.

    Rus emerged like a man coming out of water. His ears were ringing. He landed on the black-painted deck and closed the hatch to the resource refinery and waited there some moments for his hearing to return. After he could hear again he got up and started forward.

    Laughter was coming from the resource control room, where he peeked his head in. Three men were seated at the seats, obviously just chatting and not paying attention to the situation. “Yeah?” Rus asked.

    One of them stopped laughing and gestured to the right of the ship, “They want you in the bridge.”

    “What for?”

    “How should I know?” Shrugged the man and laughed again.

    Rus left the resource control room without a smile. He had no desire to die, but it seemed this ship was being sent straight into the well. Maybe things would be better if he hijacked an interceptor from the hanger and just left.

    …But then, the interceptors had no hyperdrive.

    Rus made a long sigh as he walked from the middle of the ship all the way to the ‘tower’- the command structure on the right end of the ship. Though it seemed to Rus that this would be the number one target for anyone looking to put the ship out of commission, apparently Makaan didn’t think this was a problem.

    After about three minutes of walking, Rus arrived on the bridge. The short jointed corridor opened out into the commander’s dais. Rus stopped when he saw the man on the command chair.

    “Hello!” Aloviti said with a big smile.

    Rus walked into the bridge slowly, horrified at the thought that Aloviti was commanding this ship. When he stepped on to the command dais, he looked around to see just whom this moron had chosen for his command staff.

    He was only a little surprised to see the rest of the stations- except helm and navigation- manned by beautiful women. It was a man’s dream to be surrounded by such creatures- all beautiful with long hair, large lips, and that longing gaze.

    Unfortunately, Rus wasn’t into such women for one very important factor: they had no brain. These were contract brides.

    In the realm of space where children were plentiful and population a non-issue, marriage in the old realm had the dual nature of ceremonial union and business contract. Though the higher classes among the Vaygr were usually above such things, the middle and lower classes sometimes cemented business agreements with the marriage of X son to Y daughter. Because of population ratios, there was always more of Y than X. Someone, Rus guessed, thought this was the perfect opportunity to balance the scales.

    It wasn’t that Rus had anything against Contract brides as people (a product of Vaygr civilization…), but the fact that they were on the bridge, in front of important controls was what shocked him the most. How by the lathe did Aloviti, of all people, get here?

    Rus decided to start with that. “How did anyone let you have command?”

    “Well,” Aloviti said, obviously pleased with his achievement, “I just told everyone I’d take care of it. Nobody seemed to mind, and besides,” He clapped his hands on the armrests, “I found the bridge first! Isn’t it cool?”

    Rus had forgotten nobody knew how to get around these things. Rus knew how to get to the bridge because he memorized the directions to get to the important places (his bunk, the bridge, the hanger, and the mess hall). Also, signs were a big help here.

    “That’s it?” Rus asked, “You got command because you found the bridge first?”

    “Yep!” Replied Aloviti.

    Rus stared at him.

    “Anyway,” Replied the happy man, “I wanted you to come up here… and be my first officer! I couldn’t think of anyone but you-“

    “But I thought you wanted Hannah,” Pouted one of the girls, “You promised me she’d be fist officer!”

    “Hey! What about Seiia!” Said another one, and the room degenerated into an argument.

    “Ladies! Ladies!” Aloviti said, trying to interrupt.

    Rus was certain they were headed for the well. In a day’s time, word would be out that a brand new, armada carrier was out in the wild and free for the taking. If they didn’t end up enslaved, they’d be dead… and headed for the Well of Sajuuk.

    Rus didn’t like the idea of spending an eternity within a sea of souls… especially when Aloviti would drag them down there.

    Rus clapped a hand to his forehead and waited for the argument to die. When it didn’t he raised his head and roared, “ENOUGH!!”

    The room fell silent, and all eyes were on him.

    Rus looked about the room to make sure everyone was paying attention, then looked down at Aloviti.

    This man had been plaguing him since the academy. The no-nothing son of a prosperous merchant, Aloviti had no talent for command. He didn’t have much to say for following orders either, but he had followed Rus through the academy. It was perhaps for this reason that the oaf was here in the first place.

    Rus wouldn’t tolerate the man dragging him down further.

    “First,” he said, “I’m going to take charge.”

    Aloviti made a choked laugh, smiling as if he thought Rus was joking. “Ah,” He held up a hand, “See-“

    “AND,” Rus toned over him, “I want these women off the bridge.” The women started to protest, but Rus cut them off by pointing and ordering, “YOU! How do you start production of an interceptor? DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING Just tell me! Which controls?”

    “Uh-uhm…” The woman flailed, looking about. She pointed nervously, “T-This button?”

    Rus knew she failed when she made the attempt. She was at the sensors station.

    “You!” He pointed to another, “Give me a reading on that star out there!”

    “Hey!” The one under his scrutiny protested, “You’re not being fair!”

    “That’s life.” Rus dismissed, then turned his gaze to the other girls. All of them were frowning at him.

    It was likely that he had just eliminated himself from the carrier’s gene pool by making an enemy of these contract brides. That was fine with him. All he needed to do was live long enough to jump ship and go somewhere else. Preferably in a place where getting killed wasn’t high on the list of likely possibilities.

    Rus turned his stare from one woman to the next, then to Aloviti. “I’m not going to ask what you were thinking when you let them in here. The bridge is no place for them. Get them out of here.”

    “I’m the commander here!” Aloviti tried to boom, but his voice only came out shaky and distorted.

    “Yes, and you can call this a coup de tat. Now get out of here before I manhandle you myself.”

    “You wouldn’t.” Frowned Aloviti. The women seemed to agree with him.

    “Fine,” Rus said, crossing his arms, “I’ll go get Perkele. He’ll make you leave.”

    Aloviti got up as if his pants were on fire and ran from the room. The women looked at one another, and under Rus’ intense gaze, also left. When the room was empty, Rus smiled.

    Then he frowned again. “Damnit,” He cussed, scratching his head. He realized he was no better at assigning posts than Aloviti was.

    Well, he was in the hot seat now. Only one thing to do. He walked to the nearest communication panel.

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

    Twenty minutes later, three other men joined Rus on the bridge. Rus knew them from his squadron, and although some of them might not agree with what he had to say, at least they’d know more about the situation than the contract brides Rus had just dismissed.

    “So let me get this straight,” Cech, one of the pilots, said as he crossed his arms, “You mean Aloviti was in that seat, and somehow managed to have four contract brides in here?”

    Perkele, arms also crossed, looked skyward. “Isn’t that one of the four portents of certain doom?”

    Lech, the last pilot, just sighed.

    “That’s what I found.” Rus replied. He continued, “Anyway, that’s the situation. We’re pilot-less with idiots in charge.”

    “Can you say doomed?” Cech remarked.

    “How many times?” Perkele asked.

    Rus shook his head, “We need to get a hand on the situation. I asked you guys here because…well… you’re the only guys I know how to operate anything.”

    “Because we were in training together.” Perkele reasoned out.

    “Exactly.”

    “Ok,” Cech said, “So now what?”

    “Well,” Rus said, “I was hoping we could find people who knew something about running a ship.”

    “What are you, insane?” Asked Perkele, “We’re fighter pilots. We don’t know anything about running a spaceship!”

    “And everyone else,” Cech said, “Is either a dandy, useless, or-“

    A woman’s voice interrupted, “Eavesdropping on important conversations.”

    The four heads turned to see a woman entering the room. Her unimpressed gaze considered them as she came in.

    “Hi.” Rus said, “Are you here to interview for a position on the bridge?”

    That stopped her, and she looked about the group. “What? I came here to find out what Aloviti was whining about. Something about a coup?”

    “Yeah.” Perkele said, looking at Rus, “A noble military overthrowing a civilian government.”

    “Praise the revolution!” Cech cheered.

    Rus held up his hands, “Enough.” He replaced them on the railing he was leaning on, “We don’t have anyone manning the bridge or important controls. Aloviti wasn’t helping anything.”

    The woman winced, “At least he had the guts to seize command.”

    “That’s because nobody opposed him!” Rus replied.

    The woman crossed her arms.

    Rus and Cech looked to Perkele. “What?” The taller man said, “I didn’t even know he was aboard!”

    “Come on,” Cech said, “He’s been following Rus around like a parasitic fly. If Rus was thrown in here, the chances of Aloviti following him are something like ‘absolutely certain?”

    “Besides,” Rus observed, “If they dumped contract brides here, what other ballast could they get rid of?”

    “Ballast?” Asked the woman.

    Rus shrugged, “What else do you want to call us? It’s not like we’re the absolute cream of the crop here. The elders won’t part with their dearly beloved elite, but they wouldn’t miss us.”

    “I’m glad to see you have high spirits for this venture, then.” The woman said.

    Perkele nodded in her direction, “What’s your name?”

    “Dennitsa.” She said.

    Cech asked, “Your story?”

    She sighed and said, “Look, I only came in here to-“

    “Your story?” Rus interrupted with a look.

    Dennitsa sighed, then said, “A shopkeeper. I ran a little shop in the grounds selling salt and other minerals.”

    Cech looked to Rus. “She could probably be good at resource management.”

    “What is all this about?” She asked.

    Rus nodded to her and asked, “Would you mind taking up the resource allocation position?”

    The other three men looked to her.

    “I….well….” She hesitated, wide-eyed, “I suppose… I can? I don’t know anything about it…”

    “But you can learn.” Perkele said, “Something we need to do a lot of.”

    Rus looked over his shoulder and nodded. “The resource station is over there. The computer terminal should be open.”

    Dennitsa looked back and forth between the pilots, before soundlessly walking over to that station.

    “You know,” Cech observed, “you just hired a salt-seller to manage our production. Are you sure that’s wise?”

    Perkele huffed. “Better than asking Aloviti to do it.”

    “I think I’ve found a way out of our manpower problem.” Rus reasoned aloud.

    -------------
    Based on an idea I had laying around for a while.

    In case it isn't completely obvious, this is a comedy. Perhaps to balance out the seriousness of my other works...

    Last edited by Norsehound; 19th Jul 08 at 11:03 PM. Reason: an 'e' was missing.

  3. The Studio Senior Member Homeworld Senior Member  #3
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    I got quite a few chuckles out of some of these exchanges. Not a bad start, and I find the Vaygr seeming more like the kind to induce comedic incidents than Hiigarans. Maybe it's just that Hiigs seem like total boy scouts in the games or something. *shrugs*

    Anyways, for a comedic venture, you got into the humor a bit late in the game so far (in the second chapter), but the story buildup was pretty nice, and your characters seem fairly solid for a start. Rus' throwing Aloviti off was great, considering the guy had the pretty women.

    I wouldn't mind reading more of this...but I also wouldn't mind seeing Children of Kadesh Book II updated. But that's just me, a Kadeshi fan.

    Although I always did like the Vaygr, and you do their comedic potential some justice.

  4. Homeworld Senior Member  #4
    Tells a story Norsehound's Avatar
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    Thanks DC. The silence from everyone made me wonder if I was justified in staying away from comedy- that I coudln't write funny scenes.

    I think the Hiigarans have potential for humor, but the run-down nature of a hopeless bunch of misfits has been sitting on my harddrive for a while. The first draft seemed to primitive for me to post and keep a straight face about, so I revised it and threw it up here.

    But now you make me wonder- should I try writing Children of Kadesh Bk II, now? Or should this remain second-seat while TCW is being worked on?

    With November approaching, I wonder if I can adopt one of my works to serve as my National Novel Writing Month challenge. It could be either TCW, Pt2, or CoK Book II. *shrug*

    Again, thanks for the positive say

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