Wounded Worlds is now available at Railroad Books in Pittsburg!

Wounded Worlds is now available at Railroad Books in my home town of Pittsburg, California. Having the opportunity to publish in the place I grew up in is indescribably awesome. If you happen to be out that way; be sure to stop in.

 

 

 

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(c) 2013 Ryan Hodge

 

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(Cut Content) The Battle of Atwood

Altman's sturggles with dealing with humans in the Hilean ranks was a subject I wanted to explore more thoroughly in WW:NN, however the book's length, and cost to edit, were already edging unreasonbly high. In the end, the battle of Atwood was a dramatic piece but lacked the elements required to move the over-arching story along enough to justify its inclusion in the main work. Still, I offer it here for your enjoyment as further context to a larger story.

 

 

Atwood, Kansas

Earth

Local Time: October 16th – 0901 hrs

National Year: 2028 AD

It was unseasonably hot for autumn. The smell of warm grass and dirt pervaded Lieutenant Altman’s senses. Sweat beaded on his forehead and began saturating more uncomfortable areas of his body.

            But he dare not move. His orders were to wait for the TSR’s signal –whatever it was- and he couldn’t risk the element of surprise by moving too much.

            In the distance was the tiny town that used to be Atwood. A machinegun nest with a four-man crew was covering the highway in. Two sentries patrolled the road, but all the soldiers were too distant to make out any details.

            “Thank God Kansas is flat.” The young blonde haired man called ‘Shiner’ observed. “What’s that?” Altman asked.

            “I’ve got multiple vehicles on the road; too far away to tell what they are… too small to be tanks. LAVs would be my guess.”

            “Ah shit!” Altman exclaimed, recalling a very similar set of circumstances. “Have we been made?”

            “Nah,” Shiner lowered his binoculars, “probably just here for the prisoners.” Altman cursed again. Whether the Imperials knew about them or not, the situation was now much more complicated.

“What do you want to do, Altman?” Shiner asked.

The Lieutenant took a deep breath. They were still waiting for the TSR’s signal, but the Exped no longer had the advantage. Any attack before the LAVs arrived would mean being hit in the rear flank by the approaching squadron of attack vehicles. “Dammit…” Altman breathed, cursing his circumstances. “If the TSR signals and we don’t start shooting; they’ll be overwhelmed.”

            “Fuck ‘em.” ‘Parrot’, a bearded sun-burned Kansas native expressed. “What’d the TSR ever do for us?”

Altman wanted to turn to chastise him, but retained his composure. “Anyone else feel that way?” Altman asked, hoping to get a sense of how popular Parrot’s sentiments were. To his sorrow, he was answered with a chorus of affirming answers; the Expeditionary was certainly living up to its reputation for cowardice. “Alright,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment, “here’s what we’re gonna do: signal or no signal we’re going to hit these guys as soon as they roll past us. Squad two, as slowly as you can, get down the road a bit and on the bugle, lay down some fire. When they slow down, the rest of us are going to get on top-” Altman was interrupted by the sound of a flare shrieking up toward the sky. The platoon watched it as a white contrail reached into the sky and burst high above the town.

            Both the Imperial sentries and the machinegunners turned to watch the spectacle. Once their surprise wore off, however, the sentries and one of the machine gun crew abandoned their posts to investigate. Altman let a breath of resignation from his nose. This was obviously the TSRs signal, but it was too soon for his vulnerable unit to offer the assistance they were expected to.

“We’re going to get up top, open the hatches and pour it in.” Altman continued, despite that fact. “Anyone know how to drive one of those things?” There was no response. “Right, could have made things easier. Okay…squad two: Go.”

The men kept a low profile as to avoid the attentions of the enemy machinegun crew, barely rustling the tall grass as they moved into position. As the sound of motion faded, it was slowly replaced by the hum of bugs and birds; a subtle irony that was not lost on Altman. Even as the world found itself under alien occupation, and mankind struggled for life and liberty; nature continued unabated and unmoved. The peaceful ambience was soon corrupted, however. Automatic fire crackled in the distance, interspersed with the occasional concussive thud of a grenade. The sound of battle made Altman antsy, but he fought his instincts and waited. “How far out?” He asked.

            “Well, the LAVs definitely know something’s wrong and they’re picking up speed,” Shiner replied. “Standard Light Assault Vehicle goes just over ninety on a road say about…seven minutes.”

The Lieutenant let out a frustrated breath. “Okay.”

            For just over four hundred and twenty long, agonizing seconds the sound of battle crackled across the Kansas plains. The popping of automatic fire, the sharp hollow clatter of Imperial Mag-Accel weapons, the blasts of grenade detonations, and the slow steady and increasingly loud rumble of approaching Imperial vehicles clawed at Altman’s senses. Still he waited, watching as the once distant vehicles rolled ever closer. He raised his arm and waited; he needed those vehicles to be right next to his team when they slowed. Too soon, and his men would be in the line of fire. Too late, and his men would have to chase after the already speeding transports.

            Satisfied he had determined the correct distance, he brought his arm down and second squad ran onto the road and began spraying the LAVs with bullets.

            Brakes squealed and vehicles swerved. “Let’s rock!” Altman shouted. The troops dashed from their grassy concealment and made for their camouflaged hulls. Altman clutched one of the exterior metal handrails and began climbing up. Two more men also grabbed onto the vehicle, but one lost his grip and was crushed beneath its spinning treads.

            Knowing there was nothing to be done for him, Altman continued climbing. The turret on the top of the vehicle began snapping off shots with deliberate and unrushed precision. The operator thought he was safe; tucked away in the LAV’s armored cockpit, selecting and terminating enemies via his targeting computer.

            Despite the rotating turret behind him, Altman took a seated position on the roof of the vehicle, straddling the hull to keep himself stable. The other man who had made it onto the vehicle with Altman grasped the ingress handle, looked to the Lieutenant, and waited for his nod before wrenching the hatch open. The troops inside only had time to look up in surprise before Altman began spraying them with fire. Even with their body armor, the closeness of the shots easily penetrated their ceramic carapaces. The cramped quarters of the transport meant that even those who survived the initial bursts were unable to bring their cumbersome rifles to bear before subsequent volleys ripped them apart.

            Seven Hileans sat or slumped dead in their seats before Altman’s rifle clicked empty. An eighth clutched his chest as blood poured from his mouth. His wide eyes rolled in their sockets as he fought for life, but Altman had other plans.

He slapped a fresh magazine into the receiver and fired a round into the Imperial’s head. Even before the chunks of brain matter began to leak from the Hilean’s helmet, the Lieutenant dropped into the vehicle, landing atop the fresh corpses.

The driver and turret operator had both turned to deal with the sudden interloper and Altman only had time to dispatch one before the other fired his pistol. It was not pain, but a sudden weakness in his right leg that caused Altman to stumble. Altman knew he had been shot, but he kept his weapon shouldered and killed the remaining Hilean in the vehicle before he let that fact bother him.

Without a hand on the throttle, the LAV began to rumble to a halt. Altman grasped his leg wound and felt an exit. Thinking quickly, Altman reached for the wall-mounted medkit and loaded a biofoam vial into the injector. He allowed himself a tiny catharsis of screaming in pain as the regenerative enzymes made their presence known with an intense burning sensation at the wound site. Focusing through the near paralyzing anguish, Altman crawled toward the cockpit and pulled the dead turret operator from his seat.

The cockpit was cramped enough without two corpses taking up space in it, so Altman had to lay down over the still-warm bodies in order to operate the joystick. Though he had never been inside the cockpit of an LAV before, Altman found the controls surprisingly familiar. The trigger of the joystick was the same as an Imperial rifle and the zoom control on the side of the targeting screen was the same shape and label as the one on Altman’s old ATS.

After wiping the blood from the targeting screen, Altman found the machinegun nest and centered it in the crosshairs. He pulsed the trigger and the turrets rounds impacted with such force that the concrete barricade instantaneously turned to powder. The white dust hung in the air, obscuring his ability to confirm the kill.

Suddenly, the reinforced glass on the right side of the cockpit blew inwards, showering Altman with its shards. Heavy mag rounds sailed through the vehicle -missing so near that the super-heated air around the projectiles singed the back of his combat jacket. He quickly realized that the other LAVs must have marked him as hostile and had began firing on the cockpit. Fortunately for Altman, they were shooting as if he were seated; if they were going to hit him they would have to aim lower -but only just. He tracked the turret around and fired on the cockpit of the nearest Imperial vehicle. Once satisfied, he targeted the next and the next.

With all four LAVs down, he brought the turret back to the crippled machinegun nest. Smoke and dust still obscured the visual scanners, but Altman realized the thermal vision mode would display any survivors as clear as day. Though barely literate in Universais, Altman was able to find the appropriate switch. The screen switched to a deep blue hue, immediately revealing the one surviving soul with a red outline as he crawled away from the shattered gun nest. He was clearly wounded, but he still clutched a rifle. Altman figured this fact alone meant the Imperial still had intentions of using it, so he centered the Imperial in the boxhairs and loosed a round.

The projectile impacted just before reaching the soldier, having been taken by gravity. Panicked, the soldier dropped his rifle and hugged his head with his arms. Altman gave an annoyed grunt and edged the sight up, firing another bolt. He smirked in satisfaction as he watched the top half of the figure fly in one direction, and the bottom half fly in another.

All immediate threats now dead, Altman clambered out of the vehicle and dropped to the ground. The previously forgotten hole in his leg made itself known again as he landed. Between screaming and cursing, he found his feet, using a pilfered Imperial rifle to prop himself up.

“Jesus!” Ion, the platoon second, exclaimed upon seeing Altman’s bloody leg. “You okay?”

“Obviously not!” Altman spat, before returning his attention to business. “Take Two and Three and engage the town. I’ve got One, we’ll pull up the rear.”

“Altman, we’re down eight people; Two is gone except for me.”

“Those men need us, Jace.” The Lieutenant replied, disinterested in his Sergeant’s protestations. “Take Three, and stragglers and engage!” Ion cursed, but offered no further argument.

“Bugler,” Altman cried, “sound for reinforcements, I want First Platoon in this fight now!” Radios were a luxury that the Expeditionary were not often afforded, however the keening pitch of the issuance and acknowledgement of Altman’s orders with the centuries-old instruments were still heard quite clearly over the din of battle.

Altman sorely wished someone know how to operate an LAV with every painful step he took with his wounded leg. Regardless, he willed himself forward toward the sound of battle. As his squad approached the entrance to the town, Altman stole a glance toward the body his briefly commandeered guns had bisected. What met his eyes filled him with horror.

The sight of blood and guts alone had ceased evoke any squeamishness from him for a long time, but the dead face that stared back at him did not have the elongated snout or sharp teeth of a Hilean Imperal, but that of a human. “Holy Christ!” Altman cried, jumping back.

“What? What!” Shiner asked, scanning for targets.

“He-he-he’s human!” Altman said, frustrated that he had to state the obvious. Shiner flicked his eyes down, then back at Altman. “Yeah…it’s a remote posting. Empire can’t put Roos everywhere.” It was all the Lieutenant could do to stand there in shock. “Hey, Altman? Is that going to be a problem?” Shiner pressed. “The whole town guard is human except for the Abushi probably.”

Altman had heard of the Empire using humans to bolster their military presence on Earth, but he had never been in combat with them. Willing himself out of his fugue, he swallowed and nodded. “Okay…push forward people.”

The humans of the town guard wore no armor. Further, they found themselves still engaged with the skilled TSR unit that had been all but fighting alone until just moments ago. With all his heart Altman wanted to demand the surrender of the Imperial humans, but his orders were to rescue prisoners; not take them. So he shot his fellow man in the back and those under his command shot their fellow men in the back. Sandwiched between the Resistance forces, the town guard that remained in the open was cut down quickly. But the militia’s victory had not been won yet.

The team began to take fire from a small two story building, adorned with Imperial banners. Altman and his team returned fire, shattering the windows, but distressing reports began filtering across the line. “Bingo on ammo!” Someone cried.

“Me too,” he was answered, “half a mag.”

“Don’t let up!” Altman shouted. “Find Imperial weapons!”

His commands proved unnecessary, however, as all soon went quiet, save the cries and screams of the wounded and horrified civilians. Altman kept his rifle centered on the building, waiting and listening. Suddenly, an object was tossed from the building’s windows. Altman’s instinct was to take cover, but a long, odd trail of something white caused him to hesitate. In a few moments, Altman realized it was toilet paper. “What the hell?” He asked himself. The white, papery trail waved in the air silently for a few moments before another roll was ejected from a window on the corner of building.

“Hey, I…I think they’ve surrendered.” Someone shouted.

Altman considered that for a moment. The absence of gunfire from the building certainly lent credence to the idea.

“First squad on me!” The Lieutenant commanded. Rifle at the ready, he entered the building with his squad at his back. Glass and shattered concrete crunched beneath their feet. It was eerily silent, until subtle movement caught Altman’s eye.

“Don’t shoot!” Someone meekly pleaded. Slowly, humans in purple drab uniforms stood with raised hands from behind desks, tables, chairs, and cabinets –anything they had been desperate enough to seek as cover from the battle. One of them had the front of his pants darkened by urine and more than a few had their faces, arms, or other parts covered in blood or dirt.

“What is this place?” Altman shouted at one of the men in an Imperial uniform.

“J-J-JSP office. We’re just a police station, okay?”

“One of your patrols picked up some POWs last night. Where are they?”

The man’s response was too quiet to understand.

“Where?”

“Downstairs. Please, just take them and go.”

“Take them and go?” Ion asked incredulously, approaching with rifle at the ready. “Where the hell do you get the nerve-”

“Ion, take a couple guys downstairs and check it out. Shiner, upstairs and get everyone down.”

“Look!” The Imperial human shouted in alarm as Shiner pushed past him “There’s no point in hurting us, okay? We’re not with the Empire.”

“Your uniform and my dead men say different.” Altman replied.

“Hey, c’mon what are we supposed to do? I just took this job to feed my family, okay? You don’t have to kill us”

“Who said anything about ‘have to’?” Parrot said, leveling his rifle at him.

“No! Nonononono-” The man’s protests were cut off by a bullet ripping through his skull.

“Cease fire!” Altman commanded angrily.

“Hey, screw these guys Altman. It’s more than they deserve!” Parrot replied vindictively. The Lieutenant scanned the room. One of the Imperial women had her eyes shut tight as tears steamed down. Others simply had their faces turned down with their hands raised in submission. There was a time he would have felt nothing but hate for these people, where he might have nailed them to a piece of wood to make an example of them, but that hate – that unquestioning, unswerving vitriol is what got him in this unit of screw-ups and wash-outs in the first place.

He noticed the sound of boots clomping down the steps and less than a half-dozen uniformed humans marched down with hands raised as Shiner shepherded them with the barrel of his rifle. “Come on Altman, are we just gonna let them live?” Parrot demanded.

The Lieutenant said nothing for a few moments, but merely stood there in thought. The Empire had to be fought tooth and nail at every turn, he knew that. What species happened to be wearing its uniform was irrelevant. He tried to tell himself that over and over. But no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not see Imperial soldiers before him, but terrified humans. “Line them up.” Altman said in an attempt to inject some authority before his men began to act without him.

The pleas of the JSP operators went unheard as the militia men stood them against the wall. A cruel smile was on the face of every soldier under Altman’s command. Blood was on their mind, and they knew satisfaction was imminent.

More footsteps on the stairwell sounded before Altman could determine what to do next. He turned, seeing Captain Woodsworth, looking not much worse for wear after his capture, observing the lined JSP officers –a sadistic smile creasing his face. “Well what are you waiting for?” Woodsworth asked. “Shoot them.”

“You will disregard!” Altman shouted as the all-too-eager militiamen leveled their rifles.

“What do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?” Woodsworth asked, irritated.

“With all due respect, Captain, you’ve been captured by the enemy. Protocol dictates that we treat you as compromised for now…which makes me the ranking officer afield…sir”

“Don’t you quote protocol at me, you festering little puke. I am your superior officer and I am ordering you to execute those collaborators or I will relieve you of command.”

“You have no authority to do that, sir.”

“Last chance, Altman!” The Lieutenant bit back further argument. While Altman knew he was legally in the right, he knew better than to make an enemy of a Logistics Regiment Captain. He allowed himself one slow inhale and exhale before issuing his order. “Gentlemen…” he said in resignation. Before he completed the sentence he made the mistake of taking one last glance at Woodsworth -at the smug look of superiority plastered on his face. Despite everything, it was asking too much of Altman to let this bastard win. “Put out their eyes.”

The Lieutenant didn’t have to turn around to imagine the looks of confusion on the faces of his men. The look on Woodsworth’s face, however, was priceless. “Knives to eyeballs,” Altman clarified, “Do it!” However hesitantly, motion occurred behind him followed by horrific screaming. The Lieutenant didn’t turn, instead he kept his gaze firmly locked on Woodsworth.

“I am going to remember this, Altman.” The Captain threatened.

“Well be sure to put this in your report,” Altman replied, “that the Imperial garrison in Atwood can no longer fight or serve the Empire in any capacity. They will, however, necessitate the Empire extending medical care to them and the Empire itself will have to replace and retrain the garrison itself. We’re costing the Empire far more than we would if we just killed them, as part of the Logistics Regiment, I figured you’d appreciate that.” Woodsworth may not have been totally convinced, but his expression did change. “I’m fighting for victory, sir, not vengeance.” Altman condluded.

            With that, the Lieutenant left the building with no further words said; mainly because the vomit was already rushing up his throat. He purged himself against a nearby wall and rested a moment, trying not to think about the foul taste his breath had suddenly become.

When he was ready he turned to retake command of his men only to see di Zio standing behind him with a very amused look on his face. “Somehow I don’t think K-Jack would feel as bad for us,” he commented, “and we just might find out, given the gunships’ll be here any second.”

The Lieutenant sighed, taking a moment to think.

            “Find some trucks and torch the fields; we’ll use the smoke to cover our retreat.”

            “You want us to start a wildfire?”

            Altman paused. A wildfire could consume the entire town, Imperial and civilian alike. However, he knew that the Imperial reinforcements were likely already on their way and -despite their hard fought victory- there was no way the Resistance could hold the town. “Yes.” Altman replied simply. Di Zio quickly rushed to his men to relay the instructions, offering no further questions or objections.

“Hey!” An angry voice shouted. Altman closed his eyes, praying for the day to just end. “Are you Altman?” The voice’s owner, a black man decked out in all the fancy gear a TSR was entitled to, approached.

            “Your prisoners are inside,” Altman said, hoping to preempt the argument the TSR officer was clearly bucking for. “I suggest you bug the hell out while the getting’s good.” In response, the man shoved him and Altman finally knew just how long his own fuse was.

“Where the fuck were you, I lost a man because of your slow-” Whatever descriptor the man was about to use was never heard as Altman’s fist had connected with his jaw before he could say it. The TSR fell to the ground more surprised than hurt, but Altman stood over him –his fists balled and ready for a subsequent blow.

            “Get over it.” Were the only words the Lieutenant had to offer.

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Coming Soon...[REDACTION]

(c) 2013 Ryan J. Hodge

I have to apologize for the previous post, I got over-eager and promised more than I could deliver. Wounded Worlds IS going to be releasing Parts 1-5, however Part 1 WILL NOT be free. Instead, it will be offered for the lowest price Amazon will allow: $0.99. All other Parts of the book will be offered at $1.50, but the Complete Edition (available now) will remain at $4.95. I apologize, again, if you were looking forward to the complementary offering.

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Wounded Worlds PRICE DROP!!!

The free weekend is over, but the savings continue! Wounded Worlds has PERMANENTLY dropped its price from $8.99 to $4.95! For a 454 page SciFi Epic filled with twists, turns, action, drama, and romance this is an amazing bargain!

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Wounded Worlds is NOW FREE!

It has begun! From Friday (May 3rd) to Monday (May 6th), Wounded Worlds is absolutely FREE TO DOWNLOAD!

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Wounded Worlds FREE WEEKEND

Starting Friday, May 3rd, Wounded Worlds Nihil Novum will be absolutely FREE! Download this hot new SciFi Adventure directly to your Kindle, PC, iOS, or other device with no cost and no risk. This is a limited time offer only though, so be sure to tell all your friends.

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(WWEU) Understanding the Enemy Pt. 2

The R)evere

Understanding the Enemy

Part 2: The Velut Hym’r

By Corporal Travis McLeod

Schadenfreude. It’s a word so tough to spell that the good folks of 2^nd Platoon of the 11^th Recon had to find me a dictionary so I could put it in this article (Very Special Thanks to PFC Andy Rumiel for the find). It means satisfaction at other’s misfortune and I feel it’s safe to say that’s a favorite pastime of the enlisted. So let’s all take a moment to feel some Schadenfreude for those poor bastards at the bottom of the Imperial military ladder: The Velut Hym’r.

HYM’R: The Hym’r is the lowest of the imperial military low. Seriously. You might have thought it was the Kusi (see Part 3), but no. At least a Kusi can be trusted with the most menial tasks within the Imperial military. All a Hym'r is good for is standing in front of incoming bullets. Occasionally they'll even slap a bit of armor over him in case he actually IS dumb enough to stand in front of incoming bullets. You're encouraged to shoot these assholes if you like, but you may not want to bother: it's only a matter of time before they trip over their own feet and break their necks.

VES HYM’R: Get ready for a micro lesson in Universais. ‘Ves’ means ‘Senior, Veteran, or Accomplished’, ‘Hym’r’ means defender. Got it? Good. VH is a squad leader, typically baby sitting 2-9 men depending on the type of squad (recon, combat, cavalry, etc.). In addition to leading them in battle, however, He's also in charge of his squad's discipline; licking their sleeves free of snot stains, lacing their boots up nice, wiping the drool from their dumb, hanging mouths, and praying none of them crap themselves when the officers come to inspect.

STENZ HYM’R: You know how in the old military you had to have a certain amount of years of service and pass a test before you could become a Staff Sergeant or something? Well K-Jack has that too…only retarded. The SH is the most senior Ves Hym’r in the platoon (called an ‘Aspect’). That’s it. Seriously. He could be one hour senior to another guy with far more combat experience and still be a higher rank. The thing is: he doesn’t have that much authority over the other VH’s, K-Jack only wants "proper" leaders (see: Part 1) in command. So the SH is simply in charge of the training and morale of his Aspect; i.e.: making sure they know which end of the rifle the hurty bits come out of and kissing their owies when they scrape their knees. If he's unqualified: well that's too bad isn't it, the only way to make room for the more qualified people to take over is for them to get killed. Hmm...I bet they've got to sleep with one eye open.

VELL-STENZ HYM’R: That’s a lot of words just to say that he’s the most senior VH in the Element. The three blades on his cap are now red instead of purple (representing the blood of his enemies drenching his insignia or something) but it STILL doesn’t mean that much when it comes down to it. In fact, he has less to do with combat than the people below him. He’s a librarian actually (technically a regimental historian) he advocates for any of the underlings who piss their pants enough times to be put in front of a court martial. I hear he’s also supposed to be the confidant and ‘worldly anchor’ of his Abushi, but given the quality of Imperial command the Vell-Stenz Hym'r are either not being listened to or they know just as little about warfighting as the officers above them.

ETIRI HYM’R: If you’re an SH or a VSH or –in rare cases- even a VH who manages to die in a manner that’s not completely embarrassing -shocking, I know, but apparently it DOES happen- it may comfort you to know that Imperial High Command will honor your bravery and sacrifice with three oh-so-shiny silver blades on your headstone. And, yes, they ARE super-duper shiny! There are rumors that there are a few living EH’s –probably because someone reported them dead and fucked up the paperwork- but don’t let the idea of some badass Imperial war hero worry you. While they make all sorts of movie about these clowns, K-Jack wants to keep those guys as far away from the front as possible... it would be bad for PR if they got killed, after all. 

If it's true what they say about officers only being as good as the men under them, it's not too terribly shocking as to why the Empire can't seem to keep a lid on us in the resistance. You might have heard that a Hym'r trains for an entire year in multiple climates before he is even deployed, but don't let that worry you. At the end of the day, there are only a couple million of them and billions of us. I don't care what training you've been through, I don't like them odds. So imagine how stupid you have to be to even try. So, keep your heads down, keep your guns clean, and keep watching these dumbasses trip on their own shoelaces. Peace! R)

 

 

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Wounded Worlds Gets its First Five-Star Review!!!

Wounded Worlds has received its first Amazon user review, and it's a 5-Star! Apparently he liked it so much that he didn't even finish before writing it. While we appreciate the faith, we'd love to hear what the other readers think.

You can leave your own review of Wounded Worlds here. Happy reading!

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(WWEU) The Trial of Matthew Lawrence

(Acting under the presumed authority of the Interim Joint Military and Civilian Council of)

REPATRIATED NORTH AMERICA

SPECIAL JOINT ADJUDICATION For The

PROSECUTION And CORRECTION Of WAR CRIMINALS 

Plantiff: People & IJM&CC-RNA (Rep: Nathan Gold)

Defendant: Matthew Albert Lawrence, Human, US Citizen prior to Hilean Imperial Invasion (Rep: 1^st Lt. Lana Petrovik-US Army)

CHARGE(S): Treason (Material Assistance of Enemy in form of Uniformed Service & Weapons Manufacturing), Party to Genocide, Facilitation of Genocide.

 

EVIDENCE ENTERED:

-        800 ‘382-DS’ Automatic Weapons (Built by Def himself)

-  1280 Instances of electronics repair (By Def himself)

-        1300 ‘382-DS’ Automatic Weapons (Built under Def’s authority)

-        2850 ‘382-DS’ Automatic Weapons (Built by Def’s unit)

-        30 ‘346-MC’ Self-Prop Artillery (Built under Def’s authority)

-        90 ‘346-MC’ Self-Prop Artillery (Built by Def’s unit)

-        25 ‘376-MV’ Multi-Rocket Launchers (Built under Def’s authority)

-        60 ‘376-MV’ Multi-Pocket Launchers (Built by Def’s unit)

-        Def’s Rank of HIM/VO:1 2029-2032 (Association w/ criminal org)

-        Def’s Rank of HIM/VO:2 2032-2035 (Association w/ criminal org)

-        Def’s Rank of HIM/VO:3 2035-2037 (Association w/ criminal org)

DEFENSE MOTIONS FILED:

Dismiss (Viol): Geneva Conventions: Dnd

Dismiss (Viol): UCMJ: Dnd

Dismiss (Viol): US Constitution: Dnd

Dismiss (Viol): California State Law: Dnd

Sup-Evid (Irvt): All weapons not constructed by Def himself: Dnd

Sup-Evid (Irvt): All weapons not constructed under Def’s command: Apv

Sup-Evid (NRKn): Various repair work on non-integrated electronics: Apv

Sup-Evid (Irvt): All weapons built or supervised by Def shipped OW: Apv

Sup-Test (Prej): Accounts by Wits facing weapons used against them: Dnd

VERDICT (Delivered by Lt. Col. Antonia Vincentte): It has been a long thirteen years of hard fighting. Much has been lost, and much stands to be lost still if we fail to quickly and decisively secure our world from threats without and within. While its long-term legal authority remains unclear, the acting legislative body of the Interim Joint Military and Civilian Council has ruled that in order to preserve our security and our union; all members of the Imperial war machine and any extension of Imperial rule must be purged from this world. At this time, this court recognizes the Joint Council’s authority as the lawful governing body and, therefore, all arguments regarding case law and precedents, even those regarding the Constitution, are not factors in this case until such a time that the lawful governing body reaffirms such as part of its governing structure. Thus all arguments that this hearing violates the articles of the Geneva Conventions, the Uniform Code of Military Justice, California State Law, and the Constitution of the United States are void and will not be considered. That said, the arguments of evidence, circumstance, and substance retain their right to be heard and considered.

Mister Lawrence, the prosecution and your own testimony affirm that from July 2029 until your surrender on October 16^th 2037, you were an active member of the Hilean Imperial Military performing the functions equivalent to that of what they call a ‘Chelek’, or a task master, directing and certifying the construction and quality of Imperial defensive emplacements and perimeter fortifications. These fortifications, which number in at least one thousand automatic guns, thirty self-propelled heavy cannon, and twenty-five medium-range rocket pods are confirmed to have claimed the lives of over four hundred RNA Army Soldiers, Militia, and Allies dutifully fulfilling their oaths to defend the country and world of which you are a part. This you did knowingly, under the direction of a government currently prosecuting a state of war through means of genocide against same. Under normal circumstances it would be the solemn duty of this court to find you guilty of the treason and crimes against humanity with which you are so charged. However, this court cannot ignore one important detail about your case: you were not a member of the proper Imperial military but, rather, were designated as a Conscript. According to your testimony, the testimony of witnesses, and confirmation by RNA intelligence reports, this service was compulsory; with refusal resulting in certain death.

Furthermore; testimony that you and your command received little food, rest, or compensation, linked with the severity of disciplining to be received if the materiel constructed under your charge failed to meet Imperial standards of quality –including summary executions- in addition to the fact that you never held any state of authority over Hilean military of lesser station leads this court to conclude that your rank and method of service had no status or standing in Imperial society from which to glean any personal or material benefit from. In short: while the weapons whose construction you oversaw or took part in yourself have cost the people of this world dearly, and were used as tools of genocide against humanity; it is clear that you had no choice or reasonable recourse to exclude yourself from participation. Therefore, it is the verdict of this court to find you Not Guilty on the charge of Treason by Material Assistance, Not Guilty of being a Party to Genocide, and Not Guilty to Facilitation of Genocide.

Mister Lawrence, you are free to go. I pray that the public at large will recognize and accept the hopelessness of the circumstances that forced you to serve under the Empire’s flag; that you are no less the victim of the Empire’s rule and welcome you back as a blameless citizen of these great lands.

***

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(WWEU) Post-Imperial Luz: Day 1

UNITED WORLD PRESS

Valerie Riha

Luz, Greater Luzine Provisional Authority, Talveras

(10/18/2043)

A week ago, the Commissarial barracks outside of the city of Luz stood empty except for a handful of roving guards. Now they resemble a bustling town with Commissars, Service Members, and Luz’s citizens coming and going at all hours of the day. It is from this Commissariat, and dozens of others just like it all over Talveras, that the groundwork for this world’s relief effort is being laid. Human and novum physicians exchange medical knowledge, Service Members from the Office of Emergency & Disaster Relief organize the distribution of clothes, food, blankets, and shelter for the Luzine and others still reeling from the war. Every night, lecture halls echo with the voices of Commissars representing the Office of Cultural Relations, introducing hundreds of novum a night to the history, culture, and philosophy of the NUSA. “Initially, we thought our lectures on the culture would have to endure a slow ‘growing phase’ with regard to Luzine popularity,” Mark Abeyta (Scsr/OCR), 47(Er), said “but we’ve had full theaters every night and it doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down any time soon.” When asked if the people seemed open to the prospect of annexation, he said “It’s too early to tell, but at least they’re willing to listen to what we have to offer. While I am confident that we can one day be countrymen; right now it’s up to us to do everything we can to show them we can at least be friends.”

            “The efforts of the Civilian Service Corps are greatly appreciated.” Provisional Minister of the GLPA The’unya Deyali, 30(Tv) said. “More and more, I see Luz and its outlying territories growing stronger and happier. Where once there were curfews, now the night is filled with lights and laughter again.” When asked if she perceived any problems with looters or war profiteers she stated “The shared horror of our treatment under the Empire has done much to foster a sense of community and social responsibility amongst the majority of the populace. While some misguided individuals have attempted to dishonestly better their circumstances, our husbands and neighbors in the Provisional Enforcement Agency patrol and investigate day and night to ensure safe communities and a healthy post-occupation Luz.” On the subject of annexation, Deyali remained cautious, but optimistic. “Continued friendship with the NUSA is a priority for all provisional governors, however uniting the whole world under a foreign flag is an area of great concern. I am constantly in communication with my counterparts regarding Talveras’ future with the NUSA, but I feel I speak for all of them when I say that I hope that future is a bright one.”

Challenges Ahead: Not all of Luz’s citizens seem as open to the concept of annexation as minister Deyali. Ajakar –a cobbler and a member of the ‘geliartik’ subclass who chose to forgo a surname- said “The NUSA’s game is obvious to everyone who has eyes. They think we have two choices: Join with their nation, or remain vulnerable to Imperial retaliation. What they don’t say is that while they appear strong, they need Talveras more than Talveras needs them. When the Imperial sword strikes to answer the loss of this world, it will strike hardest at the NUSA, not we of Talveras." Despite having taken two worlds from the Empire in recent months, and two more in contest, the NUSA still has no individual world it can fly its flag over. Compared to the North Asian Coalition’s quick annexation of Sh’rvest just months ago, the NUSA’s progress in convincing worlds to join its cause is painfully slow. “We must avoid any temptations to repeat the mistakes of Manifest Destiny and of the Empire,” President Andrew van Sheik said, “We will do all we can to convince prospective worlds to join into the American fold –with all the freedoms and privileges such entails- but at the end of the day, we must respect that the decision is their choice; not ours.”

The War Continues: Though Talveras was officially declared ‘liberated’ over a month ago, fighting still continues in the cold forested ‘North Reaches’ of the Shavitessen continent (The largest continent on Talveras, home to the major former nation-states of Luz, Shashanna, Lekenkos, Ura’en, and Golo.) In the shadow of the world’s highest mountain range, the soldiers of the 121^st Expeditionary Division clash with the remaining Hilean Imperial forces. “The deep forests and other natural barriers make it difficult to maintain reliable satellite imagery, making it all but impossible to direct an effective orbital bombardment.” General Byron Davis, Commanding Officer of the 121^st stated. “However, our ground forces, supplemented by the local expertise of many novum volunteers, are more than capable of handling what fight remains in the Imperials.” When asked if he anticipated an imminent Imperial surrender, Davis replied “We have thus far been unable to reach out to any central commander of the Imperial forces and it may be possible that they don’t even have one. Nonetheless, we do know they are protecting a large group of Imperial colonists, and may therefore be disinclined to surrender over possible concerns of their treatment.” When asked if he foresaw a prolonged fight ahead of his troops, the General remained confident. “The Hileans are fighting with more Velut Orsini [Military Support Branch] than Velut Hym’r [Combat Branch] while they may have been trained in guerrilla tactics at their respective military schools, [it] should be remembered that we have been fighting a guerrilla war against the Empire for the past thirteen years. Rest assured, we’ve got the Empire playing our game, and we’ve got [the game] rigged.” 

^[UWP]

 

 

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(WWEU) On Geliartiks: Part 2

From the desk of Commissar 2^nd Class, Doctor Sara Barerra

Office of Health & Disease Prevention on loan to OEDR

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

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS REPORT

(T) 06/19: I ran blood work for an adult female OC sufferer today (Athena Green). In the interest of preserving her privacy I will not state why she came in, just that she was not pregnant. I conversed with her at length about her experiences as a OC sufferer. While the subject was, understandably, a sore one; she told me about a how her social status forced her into a menial occupation and precluded any romantic relationship with any of her own kind (even other OC sufferers) according to novum laws and tradition. I asked if she had any prior relationships anyway, but she vehemently declined to state.

(T) 06/20: One of those professional vacationers from the OCR actually made himself useful today. He discovered that, historically, the lowest instances of COD came from the Golo city-state. Further, Goloine couples who left the city state tended to have a lower instance of OC as well. Somehow, he obtained an old religious text that apparently suggests that among the Goloine pregnant women should be treated like goddesses. Merchants should reduce their prices for them, husbands should cook for and massage them, and not a single frown should be cast in their direction. Alternately, my research found that the highest historical instances of OC come from the former nation of Lenkekos, specifically: of low-order caste members. Such individuals were often slave servants until circa 92 BHII, whereupon there was a social re-stratification brought on by what can be equated to a civil rights movement. While not granted true equality, these ‘lower orders’ were allowed to govern themselves as semi-sovereign states as vassals to the Higher Order hegemony. Interestingly, instances of OC seemed to drop nearly in proportion to the drop in required contact with Higher Orders.

      The most important nugget of information, however, was that instances of OC would ALWAYS increase during a foreign occupation. This, of course, was usually attributed to the ‘raping and pillaging’ behavior one might expect from an invader, but the fact that the Hilean Empire was not particularly prone to this behavior (based on accounts from Earth, Talveras, Atintichuk, and Vistik) and the rate of OC still rose in proportion to historic examples may suggest that the occupation(s) itself may have something to do with the rise in OC.

(T) 06/21: Green’s results revealed a significant amount of estrogen, adrenaline, cortisol, norepinephrine, and P14. These are all commonly associated with stress in humans, of course, except for P14. I recalled Athena Blue also had elevated amounts of P14 whereas White did not. Could P14 be the key to stopping or even ‘curing’ OC?

(T) 06/22: I received a blood sample from another OC female (I’m told, did not meet patient), who I am identifying as Athena Pink, and was ordered to run a DNA comparison test against another sample I received earlier today. The sample was not a match; however I also ran a hormone test that revealed nothing remarkable; even Pink’s P14 levels were down. Discouraging as it is, at least it confirms that there are no significant physiological differences between a healthy ‘shui’artik’ (those born without COD, ‘Bright Eyed’ in English) and OC sufferer.

(T) 06/24: Athena Blue came back per my recommendation. She asserted that she had fasted as I had suggested. She was still distressed that I could do nothing about what she perceived to be a fated pregnancy. Took blood and urine samples.

(T) 06/25: Blue still exhibits expected pregnancy hormones and high levels of stress hormones. Ordinarily I would suggest anti-anxiety medication, but I have no way of knowing how that would affect a novum, let alone a pregnant one.  

(T) 06/26: I attended a demonstration of novum prenatal care performed on Athena Purple. She was advanced in the second trimester, and showed every indication that she would bear a healthy baby. I observed her drink some sort of tea before and after the procedure. When I asked, she stated it was a Goloine blend renown for calming nerves. She had apparently developed a habit of drinking the stuff during the occupation in order to cope. I stopped short of advising her that such persistent body chemical state alterations could be an issue for the baby, but I did ask if she would be open to a hormone screening. She consented. While I drew blood, it occurred to me that I may be pursuing the wrong course by exclusively screening hormones. I obtained permission to perform a genetic test as well and obtained a second sample.

(T) 06/28: Purple’s results were consistent with White’s, save for highly elevated readings in oxytocin and endorphins. Sadly, I think that data can be disregarded due to the trace amounts of opiate analogues also found in her blood (suspect that tea blend is the culprit, have forwarded suspicion to OHDP – I doubt they’ll want CSC personnel drinking that stuff)

(T) 06/29: I feared the rate I’ve been gathering samples is far too slow to ever compile useful data. I posed opening a voluntary hormone screening clinic to SC Howard but he wouldn’t hear it; said “it would send the wrong message if we started performing wide-spread medical experiments on the populace”. I tried explaining that there was no risk to the populace, but he was adamant. Furthermore he put a stop to this current ‘experiment’, so I can expect this to be the last entry for a while.

(T) 07/02: I probably shouldn’t be typing this. Even with code names it comes too close to violating privacy but I feel I have to say this, even if no one is listening. Athena Green came in for extensive blood work today, it wasn’t at my request; she needed it for another CSC process. Process…it was a 107RSR is what it was for. When I ran her DNA I initially thought I had grabbed the wrong sample, her chromosome sequence seemed eerily familiar. On a hunch, I compared her mitochondrial DNA to Athena Purple’s. They matched, to a point. They’re half-sisters. That would just be an interesting tidbit is five minutes later, OCI wasn’t knocking down my door demanding to know where I got Green’s DNA. Turns out, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, Green was apparently some sort of assassin for the Empire. If this ever got out, Purple would lose all credibility and that butcher Nakara would be the sole voice of Luz.

---(TBC)---

 

All information not strictly pursuant to medical interests has been redacted by OMNI.

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