posted 01-13-99 10:03 PM ET            

1) Editorial changes have been made in a few cases for spelling, grammar, and internal consistency.

posted 01-13-99 10:03 PM ET            

Borodino posted 08-1-98 08:12 PM ET
001/16.3
My name is Paul-Henri D'Avignon. My designation is EJ12A2. My assigned post is that of construction foreman, construction unit CX31. This is to be a record of the truth behind this monstrosity known as the Human Hive.
I did not mean to live in this place, this demi-hell. I still do not mean to do so, but escape is not an option. I feel as though I have been tricked. That is not the ideal feeling for instilling loyalty among the masses.
The recruitment for this brutish venture never mentioned the absolute control of the State, nor the wretched living conditions that it would bring about, nor even the total lack of respect for human dignity that it created. Strength, focus, purpose, UNITY. That was the emphasis of the recruiter. All of those things were sorely needed in the dark days of factionalization. I was drawn in, as goes the clich�, as a moth to the flame. I was compelled to join this group by my own inadequacies. As a member of something larger than myself, they told me (and I told myself), my weakness would be overcome; my strengths added to by the common determination of the Hive.
I was a fool. My own lacking cannot be overcome by the strength�. Someone is coming. I must hide this record of mine. They must not find it. It is illegal.

Borodino posted 08-17-98 09:37 PM ET
001/17.1
It is safe to write once more.
My daily toil grows more unbearable by the hour. My crew is being ill utilized. We have too little rest, too little to eat. The rules are strict; discipline is harsh. Yet we must persevere.
My crew is a construction unit, and a talented one at that. On Earth, when working on skyscrapers and seabases, I dreamt of a crew this good. We are builders, by Yang, and we deserve a good assignment, a worthwhile assignment.
Instead, we have become diggers. Yes, diggers! I spent my whole life reach up and out, and now they make me go down. Such incompetence!
Sometimes, in moments of paranoia, I think they are doing it to punish me, personally. I think that they know of this journal and of the thought-crime I commit daily. They know of all this, and they punish me for it. For I am still the individual; I have not succumbed. They hate me; they fear me.
And yet, I know that this cannot be. If they knew, they would not allow it to continue. I would have been sent to the re-education facilities. I would not have been permitted to continue in my job, as part of the system, a foreman. I would have been removed as a traitor, a deviant. I know that this would have happened.
I know.

Borodino posted 08-21-98 11:18 PM ET
001/18.5
The daily drudgery continues. I am sapped of my strength. Life is meaningless. Existence is futile.
They still do not know of this record. ("They do not know.") It has become the only bright spot of my existence. ("They do not know.") The omniscient they, the omnipotent they, the ever-present they; THEY DO NOT KNOW! I am better than the they are. They are many, I am one. That is my strength; that is my meaning.
Existence is to defy. But in my case, it is to defy quietly. It is My skill, My stealth, My prowess that keeps them from knowing.
I am indomitable; I am unconquerable. So long as I am me, I will win.
Because They do not know.

Borodino posted 08-25-98 09:28 PM ET
001/19.7
I had an incident today.

I hope it safe to share it with you, my nonexistent reader. I do hope you won't tell.
Ironic humour doesn't befit me. I never used it before this � place � came to rule my life. This place warps you; the system changes you, mauls you, chews you up, and spits you out a sardonic, hateful person. I've seen several of my crew already succumb to the inexorable process. I will resist. Resistance is not futile; it cannot be futile.
I have wandered from my purpose for this entry. The Incident.
It was a chance thing, really. While on my regular route to work, from my quarters in Alpha to Beta to the Core through Delta and into Epsilon, (where my still-ill-utilized team of high-altitude construction specialists is digging a tunnel!) Anyway, I was on the Concourse in the Core, walking past the kiosks of petty merchants, peddling what few goods were allowed on the open market, rather than being controlled by the Hive. I took no notice of them, they are of lower status than even I; I, at least, am a foreman. But near the Alpha Commissary, no, closer to the Core's Delta' lift-tube station, I ran into him. Quite literally.
The scar over the right eye attracted my attention. Otherwise, I would not have given the man any more thought. I saw his face , like, like a flash of lightening. Disheveled black hair; a scruffy, drooping moustache; dull green eyes. The ragged, dirty man turned and ran as fast as he could, not even a breath wasted in apology. The face stuck in my mind. I recognized him; no, I not quite recognized him.
It was more than six hours later that I remembered. I remembered who the man was: Howard Greer! You do not understand the significance of this yet, do you? Of course you, the ephemeral reader, my invisible audience, you do not understand. How could you? It is not possible. I will explain:
Howard Greer �
I must stop writing. My political awareness seminar starts in ten minutes. I can not be late.

Borodino posted 09-06-98 10:35 PM ET
001/20.2
As I read back over my previous entries, I am surprised at my own ramblings - so paranoid, so disjointed. How could I have written those. It is a reflection on this place. It changes you; it warps you. I am clear-headed now.
Oh well. Lastly, I was describing Howard Greer, after that frightful encounter with that horrible person. It's amazing what can come from a chance encounter, but even you, my nonexistent reader, cannot be told of that yet.
Howard Greer. The name is spat with bile and rancor throughout the Hive. He was Yang's chief lieutenant in the UN Militia Corps. After factionalization, the vile creature was Yang's most trusted advisor. However, he soon came to feel the same way as I. That Yang was going to far. That the individual need not be destroyed for the unity of the whole.
I have come to hate myself for these thoughts. Because of Greer. Greer committed unspeakable atrocities against the whole; he did unimaginable things; all in the name of liberty. "Terrorism is the last resort of cowards" - President Tessier's last words before she died. Liberty of his sort I will not have. He did wrong. I hate myself for thinking like him - for diverging from GroupThink.
Yet he resisted � he resisted � he resisted � he resisted � he resisted �
I MUST RESIST!

Borodino posted 09-20-98 09:18 PM ET
001/22.1
I had the most wondrous, most illegal vision last night. I saw Freedom.
She is a sight beyond description. I can barely contain myself, having seen her. To those outside the Hive, Freedom is abstract. Indeed, to many inside she is also. But not to me. I saw Freedom in the concrete. She was wondrous.
Freedom personified�
She's beautiful�

Borodino posted 09-20-98 09:21 PM ET
001/22.9
I refuse to reread me own writings. I ramble on and on; this is futile.
I am doing things of which you cannot know, my nonexistent reader; I am doing things of which I cannot know.

posted 01-14-99 06:21 PM ET            

Thomas A Stobie posted 07-24-98 11:49 AM ET
And so it begins, the story of the colonists one year after Planetfall on the planet Chiron in the Alpha Centauri System.
Date: Planetfall Day in the 1st Year after Landing.
Mediator posted 07-24-98 06:32 PM ET
Tyler Anderson
PK
Main Outpost
Naming Celebration.
Personal Voice Log.
Although I have previously used this Voice Log sparingly, our struggles to exist on Planet should not be left to historians interpreting musty documents and disagreeing about what happened for academic gain. I admit that this presupposes the Human race will survive - and thrive - here. But I've always been an optimist. So, let's begin.
I read somwhere that "beginnings are delicate times." I agree and have never forgotten that idea. It has always served me well and this past year has been no exception.
We arrived - the nice word for a crash landing - on Planet one year ago today. I will leave a discussion of the events leading up to the crash landing for others to discuss - I was too busy making sure we would arrive at the "lifeboats" alive.
Many of us were injured, and many did not know each other except for reputations. Trust in each other was initially non-existent. I still believe many civilians expected the Black Watch to immediately overthrow Pravin and rule as a military dictatorship. Nothing could have been further from the truth. We were all chosen for this mission for one reason - WE BELIEVE. Not in the unknown of the Believers, but in Humanity's capacity for growth - and evolution. Thus, the UN's goal for this mission, the survival and growth of humanity, was our personal goal as well. And because we are true soldiers, and Pravin Lal is committed to the same goals, we chose to follow him. Challenging his rule would be anathema.
Thus, to allay peoples fears, we immediately - and publically - started taking orders from Pravin Lal, myself included. Basic Black Watch training in first aid came to the fore, as did reconnissance. We assisted the civilian doctors with treating the injured and sent out patrols to explore.
Living quarters were quite cramped initially. The pre-fab units we, ahh, appropriated from UNITY were packed. It wasn't until Tony Genovese and his geneng wizards set up a basic foundry and gathered various clays and sands until we started construction in earnest. During the time while we forged the construction materials, Sgt. Kent had found us a settlement area, near to both a large body of water, and abbutting what appeared to be a large mountain range.
We moved the pre-fabs, and the constuction materials, and began construction. Design work was accomplished upon CAD modules set up from cannibalized circuit boards. I have to admit, I don't know how Ed Romanoff - our head computer engineer - can be so creative, and yet so grumpy. I think he is contemplating a future without the full cornucopia of computer technology. But maybe the stereotype of the brooding Russian Genius is accurate. In any event, we need to find him things to do, else he founder in depression.
In contrast to Ed's moodiness, Tony Albanese has been a hero to all of us. I wish I knew where he got the energy, but, it seems inexaustible. We have him to thank for energy - a windmill and a reconditioned UNITY generator. And any thing else that works.
While we worked to survive, many of us wanted to - needed to - name our home, if for no other reason than to believe we had a future that could be measured in years rather than hours. Pravin came up with the idea of a contest to name our first city. Dre' Romanoff suggested a party to announce the winning name on our one year anniversary.
And here we are, at that very party. The small amount of alcohol covertly produced in homemade stills has been broken out, smiles on people's faces that haven't smiled in months.
And it is my honor - given to me by Pravin - to announce then new name. Here I go.
END VOICE LOG #1.
Tyler walked up to the makeshift podium in the largest room in their outpost - a hollowed out area below ground with glass and brick abuting the surface and a dome of cannibalized Pla-steel above - cleared his throat, adjusted his jacket and spoke:
"Ladies and Gentlemen - I am not one for speeches - I leave that to Pravin. But, as the humble originator of the name for our first settlement that won the settlement name "election" I have been given the honor of announcing the winner. It gives me great pleasure to announce that the name of our settlement is exactly what all of us must have to survive and thrive here on our new home. The name of this city is . . ."
He paused. Then spoke in a clear distinct voice
"Hope."
albemuth posted 07-24-98 11:45 PM ET

Morgan Conglomerate
Minutes of Annual Board Meeting
Proposed: shift x acres to production of native 'rubber' plant, planned production: shoes, gaskets, tires, treads, etc.
Proposed: harvest 'Bandar' vine for production of 'cigarettes,' proposed brand name 'Gauloise.' (Secret notes: Bandar is mild euphoric, minimally addictive. Long term effects of use not known at this time.)
Assigned: Shuttle B to Exploration. Confirmed survey of lake area north of Morgan Farms.
Proposed by Pres.: Creation of Ambassador/Trade Rep position/department.
Counterproposal: Creation of Amb/Trade Rep Dept. subordinate to Exploration VP.
Counterproposal: Creation of Amb/TR Dept. subordinate to Production VP.
Proposed: Nightly 3hour free viewing programming. News/Entertainment/General Forum format. Cost/feasibilty study assigned to Housing VP.
Proposed: permanent ambassadors/embassys in each faction. Delayed due to assignment of Dept. to appropriate VP.
********
Off record discussions:
Plans for Morgan Bank continue. Feasibility study finished; costs make project impractical at this time. Groundbreaking moved back. Revisit at next Board Meeting.
Create contacts within other faction outposts. Include as possible duties for Amb/Trade Reps: information gathering.
albemuth posted 07-25-98 12:07 AM ET

Elise McRae
MC
Morgan Farms
Planetfall Day
Elise returned the photograph of her father to it's place of honor on the mantle. Her father had been a man of the soil, a hard working man who had in turn been the son of a farmer, and so on for generations. Elise had left the farm to attend Kansas State, and had never looked back. She laughed: all these years, all these miles. She had run, but she hadn't gotten away from the farm. She imagined her father watching from some distant heaven; his head would be swelled to melon-size with pride.
Today would be a big day. Production was shifting from basic food/survival production to more marketable commodities. The new 'rubber' plants had proven successful, and were sure to be a money maker in the years to come. The mink farm was also up and running. No more cold winters. Elise smiled.
Brenda posted 07-25-98 02:41 AM ET

January 1st, 2100 Believer Outpost 1
---------------------------------------
"O God, you have bound us together in a common life..."
Sister Jael Amitia knelt at her pew as Sister Miriam Godwinson gave thanks for peaceful times and strength in the conflicts to come. But she couldn't help but wonder what good any of it would do. Everything was falling apart, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. Sometimes she wondered if there were things for which prayer was like rain in the ocean.
"... Help us, in the midst of our struggles for justice and truth..."
And when prayer wasn't sufficient, there was always Host. The shared bliss of Communion seemed so far away to her. Jael's thoughts wandered as Sister Miriam droned on. She was always the best of us, thought Jael, the most dedicated of us. We should all try to be more like her, I guess.
"... to confront one another without hatred or bitterness..."
Only we could try to be just a little more to the point, hmmm? Jael and old Sister Rachel may have had their differences, but one thing Jael respected about her elder was Rachel's conciseness. Sister Rachel would never call an emergency meeting of the Conclave and then waste half an hour in a lengthy prayer!
"... and to work together with mutual forbearance and respect, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen!" shouted Jael, a fraction of a second ahead of the rest of the hastily gathered congregation. The others in her pew gave her stern looks, but Jael looked straight ahead as if she hadn't noticed. She barely stifled a groan as Sister Miriam stepped out from behind the altar to the lectern.
"Brothers and Sisters in Christ," began Miriam, with a aura of wisdom and serenity about her that seemed utterly at odds with her short and mousy appearance. But then, Sister Miriam never had been one for outward appearances, despite Sister Rachel's seemingly constant suggestions.
"I would have liked to have talked with you today about the sanctity of poverty; some of us, it seems, are becoming entirely too comfortable with our material wealth, to the neglect of the true wealth which comes only from within..."
Sister Jael snuck a look at Brother Jaime, two pews in front of her. The broad shoulders already bent in prayer seemed to slump an extra inch as Miriam's gaze drilled into him. Jaime knew, just positively knew that she'd heard about the stash of black market electronic tech he'd bartered from the last band of paparazzi to pass through. But it was necessary, he argued silently! He knew Miriam would tell him the Lord would provide and his explanation that the Lord needed the parts more than he needed the ream of Parchments he'd had to trade would fall on deaf ears. Cute ears, but utterly deaf to reality. He tried his best to become small and humble until he felt Miriam�s eyes leave him.
"... but instead of that lesson, I have gathered you here today to listen to Brother Eru, who has a warning for us all. Brother Eru?" Miriam nodded to a short, stocky man dressed in the drab brown robes of a cloistered researcher. The man huffed and strode confidently to the lectern, carrying a small box gingerly in front of him.
"Thank you, Sister Miriam, and the rest of you,� he began. He paused a minute with the sense of theater in his eyes, his tidy white beard not easily hiding the smirk in his cheeks, or the seriousness that followed it as he cleared his throat to speak.
"I would like to ask your prayers today for the health of our sister in Christ, Barbara Zimmerman, who was overseeing the tenders in Garden 15 when she was attacked by this!" Eru reached into the box and pulled out a six-inch long, brightly-colored, snake-like creature. As Jael recoiled in shock, the creature's forward half split into a writhing nest of tentacles surrounding a sharp, black spike that jabbed rhythmically at the air as the creature struggled to turn its weapon onto Brother Eru.
"You see before you a mind worm," said Eru unnecessarily. Every colonist knew well of the insidious mind worm; rumor had made them larger and more dangerous than reality, but nobody dared take them lightly. The first settlers had soon learned the horrors of a mind worm infestation.
"This one was entangled in Sister Barbara's rebreather and couldn't squirm away with the others when they heard our approach. She'd been bitten many times before anyone heard her shouts. Her envirosuit was severely punctured, and when we found her, her brain had been starved for oxygen for over fifteen minutes. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ was with her in that moment, for mind worm venom had made her very susceptible to suggestion. She was still trying to crawl back to the worm nest, there to be eaten by their young, even as she cried out for help."
"We must devote ourselves to destroying this nest. Yes, I know some of you will insist that all God's creatures have grace in His eyes, but until the Pope blips us a new encyclical, we cannot be sure that this world's creatures have ever known Eden. And there won't be a Pope here on Planet for at least twenty-three years. Or so I think. But nobody can see the future except the Almighty, of course!"
"Any volunteers who would like to serve God and our community in this fight, please report to the assembly area after our gathering. Thank you, and God help us all." Brother Eru returned to his seat as Miriam returned to the lectern.
"Please see Brother Eru after the gathering if you would fight for your church. I will not have the brothers and sisters of this, our first parish, endangered by these creatures!" Sister Miriam stood silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts and emotions. She felt herself above such things, but sometimes... She had seen Sister Barbara. It would have been much easier if she hadn't. She traced the sign of the cross in the air. "By God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, keep us and watch over us all. Amen."
"Amen," repeated the congregation solemnly.
A much-subdued congregation filed out the doors of the First Temple and into the wider corridors of the Outpost. Sister Jael saw Jaime and Sister Deborah discussing something in quietly intense voices. Sister Jael couldn't make out what they were saying, but she caught Deborah's eye and motioned for her to come as soon as she could to the Scriptorium.
Jael was reviewing the day's progress in indexing and cross-referencing the old Unity records on her Parchment when Deborah finally rushed in the door.
"Jaime is going out there!" exclaimed Sister Deborah. Not for the first time, Jael thought Deborah was too pretty for her own good. The soft brown curls and slight accent did not match the harsh black habit of sisterhood. Jael idly wondered how Deborah would look in Gaian green, then silently thanked God that the efficient woman had decided to cast her lot with the Believers. There was something deeper in that girl than first met the eye. Jael silently compared Deborah's classic beauty with her own sallow skin and stringy black hair for the thousandth time.
"I know," said Jael. "Jaime just sent me a post." Sister Jael turned her Parchment toward Deborah and pressed her finger against a darkened square. The ink on the Parchment faded, then formed itself into a beautifully rendered line drawing of Brother Jaime.
"Peace, Jael," spoke the portrait. "I know we had dinner plans tonight, but it looks like I'll be eating dinner out on Garden 15 with Brother Eru. Pray for me, will ya? Hope to be back by bedtime, but if I'm not, stop by the Tender shed in the morning... I might just have a present for you!" Jaime's portrait winked, but its meaning was lost on the two women. If it had any meaning. "Amen," continued the transmission, and at this command, the portrait faded into nothingness as letters reformed across the Parchment in perfect calligraphy.
"Jaime was going to have dinner with you?" asked Deborah, her eyes wide.
"Yes," admitted Jael. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
Sister Deborah shook her head. "Never mind. What did you want to see me about?"
"I just wanted to let you know that the Scriptorium will be closing early tonight. I expect most of the men will be out hunting worms tonight, anyway. If you'd scribe the others before you leave, I'd appreciate it."
"No problem, Sister," said Deborah. "Was there anything else?"
No, except what you were speaking to Brother Jaime about, thought Jael. "I think that will be all," said Jael aloud. "Try not to worry about Jaime. I'm sure he'll be fine."
"Why would I be worried about him?" asked Sister Deborah. She turned and walked into her cubby. Jael waited as Deborah spoke into her Parchment. Filtered sunlight shone red through the stained windows of the scriptorium, lending an ominous hue to the scattered desks and cubbies. Jael hoped it wasn't an omen of things to come.
albemuth posted 07-25-98 10:41 AM ET
Anna lay in her cradle, laughing, reaching for the irridescent mobile that hung from the ceiling. She had been one of the first to be born on Planet, and so the caretakers watched her closely. Her mother cooed to her, and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. She was a bright kid; her father swore that she'd already spoken her first word: "Da-da." Her health, and that of the other children in the colony, was taken as a portent of things to come; the future was indeed bright.
Anna didn't remember, of course, meeting Morgan for the first time, but her father would no doubt remind her often enough in the years ahead. It was one of those stories that always start out "I remember..."
Anna and her mother had just returned home from the clinic. This was in the days when the permanent housing had not yet been finished, and many still lived in a makeshift tent city. Anna's father had taken her in his strong, worker's arms and walked outside the tent. Morgan was sitting outside his own tent, holding his grandson and beaming with pride. He no doubt had a grand, luxurious apartment waiting for him, but refused to move out of the tent city until all others had permanent housing. This fact was not lost on the citizenry. Usually awed by the great man, Anna's father started towards Morgan, the babes a common bond between them.
Morgan noted his approach, and greeted him: "Steven, how are you today? Anna is well, I trust?"
Steven was stunned. Morgan knew him? He finally managed "G-good morning Director Morgan. Yes, ah, she's fine- we're fine. Thank you."
Morgan laughed. "Steven, are we not in our homes? My name is Nwadibuke. Please, sit down." He motioned Steven to a stool beside him.
Steven sat down. They complimented the children, and each other. Finally Steven blurted out, more because he was at a loss for words than for any other reason, "Director Morgan," he couldn't quite bring himself to using first names with a man this dignified. "Sir, why do you stay here? You could live in a mansion. I would be in the highest of towers by now."
Morgan smiled, and laughed his infectious laugh. He half closed his eyes and leaned toward Anna and her father. "You see, Steven, in the land where I was born, men take care of their own; their greatness is measured by the circumstances of their families." He paused, and patted Steven on the knee, just like Steven's grandfather had done, long ago. "And here, Steven," he continued, "you are all my family." He laughed again, and patted Anna's tiny hand.
Yes, it was a day to remember, and a story to tell. Anna would never be given the opportunity to forget.
The DirectorGeneral posted 07-25-98 11:16 AM ET
Dr. Donovan Ashe
University
Director, materials research
primary recreational facility, 'Main Campus'
-------------------------------------------------
"Here's to the progress of the last year !" Donovan said as he raised his glass. All around him, the men and women of his department followed suit.
"And to our commitment to improve on it in the next." came a familiar voice from behind him. Everyone quieted down a bit, since it wasn't everyday that 'Old man Saratov' made an appearance in the rec hall - or even every week for that matter...
Turning to face his old friend, Donovan smiled. " So you have escaped from the optics lab ! Happy Planetfall Day."
Saratov actualy smiled - well one corner of his mouth went up a bit. For him, that was rather frivolously cheery.
" Donovan, I need to speak with you in private, please."
"Sure. Your office then? Say 20 minutes?"
"Very good." And with that, he departed.
"Oh sure, leave the party early, Dr. Ashe!" one of his techs chided.
"Well, you young folk carry on, and leave us old men to plot in peace...."
-------------
It was a fair distance to Saratov's office, and required a rather brisk walk to get there on time. Donovan just barely made it.
" Ah, there you are, my friend !" Saratov exclamed.
"Of course. What did you want to see me about?"
"Two things. Firstly, I want you to coordinate with our department of diplomacy and trade to come up some ideas for trade goods and treaties."
"OK, and the other item of business?"
Waving his hand toward a side table, Saratov once more flashed one of his quirky pseudo-smiles. " I believe that there is a game of chess yet to be finished from last month?"
albemuth posted 07-26-98 12:56 PM ET
Armand Miran
MC
Morgan City
Armand opened the door to his new quarters. His recent promotion had provided the housing upgrade; he looked forward to much more in the years to come. He was slightly intoxicated; the Planetfall Day celebration had been short, but well-stocked. That year end energy bonus was going to come in handy he mused, looking at the half full bottle of synth ale.
He surveyed the new apartment. Not bad, though still a bit small. His possessions had already been moved in; he'd take care of arranging the furniture later. Right now, he had other things in mind. He lit a Bandar cigarette whil scanning the living room. The cigarettes were becoming popular mainly among the workers, but he enjoyed them as well. Finally, he found what he'd been looking for: the suite's environmental controls.
In order to conserve energy, the Dome's environmental controls had been set to a sweltering 78 degrees; the basic housing allowed no personal settings. His journey up the corporate ladder had already changed things for Armand. He adjusted the controls. He had already calculated that 75 would be easily affordable, but this was a special occasion. He waited as the air around him cooled: 77. He loosened his tie: 76. Another drag on the cigarette, another sip: 75. He sat down, totally relaxed. 74. Luxury ain't what it used to be on Earth, he thought. He finished the cigarette, soaking up the cool air. Tomorrow would be a big day. Armand smiled.
jsorense posted 07-27-98 04:17 PM ET

posted 01-14-99 06:22 PM ET            

Brother Johnny Chee and Brother Haruhiro Honda
Believers
New Eden's unmarried men's dormitory
Brother Haruhiro dropped the heavy bag he carried down on the common table with a loud clatter and surveyed the rows of bunk beds that filled the dormitory. Various heads looked up, some curious and not a few in annoyance with the disturbance of their sleep. One figure dropped from his top bunk, walked over to Brother Haruhiro and gave him a big hug.
"Boy, is it good to see you Brother, when did they let you back from the mines of Moria in Outpost #2?"
"The rover just pulled in, let me tell you Brother Johnny, it is great to get back to civilization after 4 weeks in the wilderness on synthetic food. I brought you those tools you requested. I refined your design and I am sure you will be pleased with the quality of the steel. "
Brother Haruhiro Honda had a double life in Japan. For 12 hours a day he was a hardworking salari-man for a large industrial conglomerate. In his "spare" time he was a Shinto priest and creator of traditional hand forged Japanese blades. Brother Johnny had been wrestling with the problem of cutting through the thick, tough layers of Planet fungus that covered the nitrogen rich soils that surrounded New Eden. Everyone was hoping that they could soon plant crops "outside" the stained glass windowed dome of the main habitat and the connected labs and covered "gardens." However, the Believers did not have the tools to cut the fungus off the land and shred it for compost. Only after the fields had been prepared by hand could the agricultural robots take over. One of the first priorities of the Believer's first iron mines and foundry were to create steel for agricultural tools.
Brother Johnny hefted the various curved and toothed implements and marveled at their lightness, balance and, yes, efficient beauty. " Ya know Brother H, you could do some serious damage to more than fungus with these. I don't think a mind worm, or a human for that matter, could stand up too long against these." He said as he fingering the serrated edge of a sword-like scythe or scythe-like sword.
"Well, Johnny, since I had to come in for my militia training anyway I did take the liberty to fabricate a few new toys for our squads. I need to talk to Brother Rahjiv and set up a training regime so that everyone will know how to handle them without hurting themselves. Now, let's go and get something to eat. If we hurry we can grab something before tonight's prayers. I would love some fresh noodles and tofu after the food at Moria."
They gathered up the tools and joined other Believes as they headed toward one of New Eden's communal dinning areas.
jsorense posted 08-17-98 06:54 PM ET

001/17.2
S E C R E T C O M M U N I C A T I O N
To: Sister Cecilia McCoy
From: Council of the Lord's Believers
Re: PeaceKeeper Negotiations
After careful long deliberation the Council requests that you proceed to rendezvous station and complete the negotiations with officials from the PeaceKeepers. Our settlements need electronic components and satellite access we have discussed in the past. The Council in agreement with your petition to acquire the rights to broadcast Sister Miriam Godwinson's "lessons to life" over their communications satellite network. Use your own judgement concerning the level of oil extraction knowledge to share with them.
The shuttle will be ready for transport next week.
Yours in the name of the living saint. Thou art God.

S E C R E T C O M M U N I C A T I O N
To: Brother Rahjiv Singh
From: Council of the Lord's Believers
Re: Sister Cecilia's Escort
The Council requests that next week you take a squad of Believer Militia in the shuttle and escort Sister Cecilia to the rendezvous station. If negotiations are successful, there should be a consignment communications electronics available. As per your request for additional weaponry, the Council agrees that it is desirable to acquire small arms for personnel defense. Please forward your request to Sister Cecilia so that she can include them in the final negotiations with the PeaceKeeper envoy.
Yours in the name of the living saint. Thou art God.

posted 01-14-99 06:24 PM ET            

001/20.4
Sister Cecilia , Brother Rahjiv & Brother Greg
Believers (Children of God)
New Eden's Chemical Laboratory
Brother Greg and Sister Cecilia were going over their notes for aspirin and other pharmaceutical production using the New Baku "goo" being pumped from the wells up there. It looked like a promising and relatively simple process, well within the current capacity of New Eden's facilities. They both looked up from their work as Brother Rahjiv entered. He looked tired and disheveled after the trip out to barter with University representatives. He sat down at one of the stools, pulled a large knife out of his belt and placed it on a workbench with a ringing sound. The knife had been designed and hand forged by Brother Haruhiro and was the single item that identified someone as a militiaman. Its outline was similar to a Ghurka but with the hard sharp edge and flexible core of a samurai sword, all and all, a beautiful, useful and dangerous looking weapon.
"Well Sister, we did it. I gave your process over to the University chaps, so that's that. I must say that UoP security crew was much more interested in the liquor we traded than all the industrial secrets on this planet."
"Let's hope that we made the right decision giving that away, Rahj. Saratov has some great engineering talent over there. They're going to be working on production applications in no time. Oh well, it looks like you could use a drink yourself, Scotch?" she offered.
"That's the best offer I have had all day. Will you and Brother Greg join me?"
Brother Greg reached for some glasses, "I thought you would never ask. Did you get the communications upgrades that Sister Miriam needs?"
"Oh, yes! Old Don Ashe came through on that end. I had the crew deliver all of it to the Communications Center. The Brothers and Sisters there couldn't have been happier. They will be ready for a planet wide broadcast in a couple of days. It is a wonderful thing that Sister Miriam is going to share her knowledge of our deliverance with the rest of the factions. Maybe that knowledge will bring us all back together. It would make all of our chances of survival multiply. I haven't been able to relax since I got those kids killed. Ahhhhhhhhhh, this is excellent! Anyone up for some three handed cribbage?"
jsorense posted 09-02-98 07:37 PM ET

001/23.9
Believer Communications Technicians
New Jerusalem Communications Center (Centre)
The technicians were excited as the prospect of their first planetary broadcast. The recently arrived components from the UoP seemed to check out perfectly. They had run and rerun the access codes, protocols and confirmed the calibrations with the Peacekeeper techs at Hope. The Peacekeepers had also, in good faith it seemed, notified the other factions that Sister Miriam wanted to address them. All was ready. Inhabitants of New Jerusalem were out of their dormitories, expecting to watch the program projected onto walls throughout the dome. All of the Believers had felt the sting of anger and resentment. The Spartans ridiculed them as sheepish pacifists, Saratov's engineers scoffed at their faith and calling them cultists, Yang's faction belittled their attempt at a new society, the Peacekeepers slighted them because they splintered away, and Morgan scorned their utopian dreams. Only Lady Deirdre Skye and her followers seemed to understand and respect their ideals and even they made fun of Sister Miriam's accent. Now the unbelievers would have to change. They would all hear the message and then they would all understand and reunite under God's Word and Protection.
It was show time. The director checked his watch and cued Sister Miriam. "Peace be with you Brothers and Sisters. God has welcomed us all to our new world. I know the suffering y'all have endured to make our homes here. It is my joy to be able to tell you that God has spoken andSSSKKKKSSSSHHHHSSSSKKK" the hissing transmission then suddenly fell silent. The Believers stared at her earnest face and silently moving lips. This picture then faded to black and the message "Transmission Interrupted. Expired Password/User Code or Equipment Failure" scrolled continuously across the screens. In the Communications Center a computer-generated voice repeated the same message into the headphones of the shocked staff. All the technicians could determine was that it was originating from the satellite itself and that there was nothing they could do to fix it.
Out under the dome the comprehension that someone had sabotaged the Sister Miriam's address was slowly sinking in. Shouts of "Traitors!" "Judas!" and "Infidels!" rang out as a flood of anger rose. This rage quickly identified a target, the new apartments that housed the Peacekeeper delegation and the so-called "scientific expedition" personnel. The crowd began to advance toward the compound now chanting "PKs GO HOME! PKs GO HOME!"
As the crowd closed in on the compound they were met by the stern and angry visage of Sister Miriam. She raised her hands to silence them. "I have pledged to God that these guests shall be safe. And by God, I will not let you lay an angry hand on their door. And I promise you now, that we will find out who committed this crime on God's new covenant. And they will be dealt with. Now all of you go home. God is Great. Thou art God."
"God is Great. Thou art God." Roared the crowd shouting as if it were a battle cry. There was no thought of forgiveness here. This latest insult will not be forgotten. Someone would, indeed, be punished. The throngs slowly dissipated into small knots of Believers angrily talking among themselves.
jsorense posted 09-08-98 03:54 PM ET

001/24.4
Brother Rahjiv & Militia
The New Jerusalem Armory
It had been just a few days since the Sister Miriam's attempt to communicate with the other factions and the near riot the occurred when the transmission was sabotaged. The base had gotten back to its routine but the citizens were still upset about the loss of the football game and what they felt was an insult to Sister Miriam and their faith. Brother Rahjiv was in the Armory and training facility with about 80 militia members, the largest group to ever assemble at one time.
"Brothers and Sisters, I want to congratulate all of you on your behavior since the Peacekeeper delegation and the Narmonov Expedition arrived. You all kept your heads during the demonstration and made it to your posts as per the plan. From now on we will have to keep a continuous watch on the Peacekeeper compound. It is suppose to be for their safety, but I will be very interested to know who comes and goes and when. " He paused waiting for the significance of his last words to sink in.
"I especially want to thank our football players for their excellent acting job. I did not want the other factions to know how far our training has gotten us. I want them to continue to underestimate our abilities as long as possible. That is why I ordered you to lose." The team members grinned as their comrades slapped them on the back and laughed at their bungling throughout the game. It had been hard to keep the scoring down and make it look close. But they were collectively proud of their deception and soon the secret would slip out to the other Believers so their skill would no go unrecognized.
"OK people, we'll start the training rotation again tomorrow. Alpha Squad, check with Brother Haruhiro about guard duty. Dismissed!"
The militia filed out the door pleased with the compliments from Brother Rahjiv and relieved to miss a day of training. Brother Rahjiv retired to the nook he used as an office and keyed the comlink.
"Greetings Brother Greg, I need another favor from you. No, I don't need to borrow anymore credits, but I'll keep that in mind. You and Madame Rosinsky are still in contact with the paparazzi aren't you? Good. Could the two of you come round to the Armory. I have a few questions for you. I'll see you both soon." No one had asked him, and he didn't even know if he liked the idea, but Brother Rahjiv was beginning to organize a counterespionage organization.
jsorense posted 09-11-98 02:39 PM ET
Ecumenical Council
Lord's Believers
New Jerusalem
The wanton destruction of Sister Miriam's pan-factional message had been a bitter failure felt by all Believers and a watershed event for their collective worldview. No longer were the other factions seen as sources of new converts that would join them in a new covenant with God but also as dens of adversaries.
Counselor A: So that's it? All we know about this calamity is the word of Sir Peter Baker that someone, and the Peacekeepers do not know who, sabotaged their satellite? This is outrageous! They have got to know and are just covering things up.
Counselor B: I am afraid it may not be that simple. The satellite system was not designed for multiple exclusive proprietary access. I know because I helped to build it.
Counselor A: What are you trying to tell us?
Counselor B: Simply that anyone with the proper programming skills could insert the codes necessary to cancel our access. The source of the code could be anyone who communicated with that satellite.
Counselor C: Including our own technicians?
Counselor B: Well, yes, I suppose, but I don't think that's possible. I think the Peacekeepers and the University are more likely suspects due to our recent contacts with them. What do the other factions have against us?
Counselor D: I think we need to question our people very, very closely to make sure their faith is pure and their loyalty uncorrupted.
Counselor A: I agree Sister, you may proceed with that interrogation.
Counselor E. I totally disagree. And besides, Brother, who gave you the authority to initiate such a proceeding. This has to be Sister Miriam's decision.
Counselor B: We need more information. Can we recall Brother Eru from Hope. That would have the double advantage of sending the Peacekeepers the message that we are displeased and Brother Eru can brief us on the situation in Hope as he sees it.
Counselor A: O.K., we will recall Brother Eru and discover his analysis of the incident. Then we will decide what to do about a more intensive investigation. Let's move on to the next agenda item: the proposal by Brother Johnny and Sister Tammy about the aquaculture experiments.
Counselor B: Yes, I am very interested in this proposal. The only problem is the issue of specialized pumps and filter systems needed to keep the water within earth parameters.
Counselor D: And which unbeliever do we go to to find these pumps?
Counselor B: According to the paparazzi, both the University and the Gaians have what we need.
Counselor A: Let's contact the Gaians then. I don't want any further trade with the University until they can be cleared of involvement in the plot against Sister Miriam's address.
Counselor C: Let us pray for Sister Miriam's and all of God's souls. God is good, thou art God!
(in unison) Thou art God.
jsorense posted 09-12-98 07:18 PM ET
001/25.1
Sister Tammy Burbank, Brother Johnny Chee
Lifesaver's Point Marine Research Station
Sister Tammy and Brother Johnny strained their eyes watching every move of the construction crews on the shore and on the surface of the estuary. There were two teams operating; one was tanks and structures along the far shore and transporting them to the middle of the lagoon. The second team was carefully preparing a submarine foundation for the structure far from shore.
"Are you sure that they removed all the Planet species before they started?" Sister Tammy asked for the 10th time. "Oh, yeah, I was out there myself. I can't guarantee that we pulled ever one of those trilobite things out of the mud before we dredged, but I am sure we got most of them." Replied Brother Johnny patiently. "I even asked Mother's forgiveness, gave smoke to the four winds and planted a prayer stick before we started. That should keep us in balance with Planet for this."
"You don't think the Council will pull their support after the failure of the shoreline ponds? Do they know you are still practicing your shaman rites?"
"No, they know that this is applied research and some setbacks are expected. None of us expected the rain runoff to continually contaminate the water with excess nitrogen compounds. You live and you learn. These mid estuary tanks will give us more control over the water quality variables. That is, of course, if we can get adequate pumps catalyzing and filtration systems. About the other, it has never come up, yet."
"Are you sure you have enough fry, larvae, eggs and seaweed plantings to continue."
"Well, our supply isn't inexhaustible, but it is amazing how much you can stuff in those freezers. Pretty soon we will be able to store frozen shrimp and fish fillets in them instead."
"Come on, get in the boat. It looks like they need a few extra hands out there."
jsorense posted 09-14-98 03:50 PM ET

001/25.3
Madame Sonjia Rosinsky
New Jerusalem
Madame Sonjia Rosinsky hurriedly left Sister Miriam's inner office satisfied with her accomplishment. The interview had gone very well. Sister Miriam intuitively understood the importance of the work and even appeared to perceive the forces it might generate. She would now get the support need to complete the project.
The idea wasn't new, Rosinsky had borrowed it from the pre-Columbian civilizations of Meaoamerica: The meshing of two calendars cycles; one secular and one ceremonial. For Chiron Rosinsky would splice the old earth 365(6) day cycle on to Chiron's 388.6. All of the Holy Days, Saint's days, holidays and astronomical events needed to be identified and plotted out along the new A.C. year. These were important dates that did not loose meaning back on Earth or in their new planetary home. Madame Rosinsky felt that these days had a power of their own and that's why people had recognized them as special. One of her tasks now was to identify what were the distinct power days on Chiron. This would be difficult to determine in the short run and it might take centuries to identify them all. She would need the cooperation of people all over the planet. But the payoff in the end would be tremendous. It would be no less than a prophecy computer. A means, such as the Aztecs and Maya believed, to foretell the future by studying the patterns of events recorded on the two calendars. She felt it all right. It seemed like her aura vibrated and expanded every time she worked on the calendric progressions and she knew that Sister Miriam felt it too. The first thing she had to do is set up a network to identify and confirm Chirons times of power. She would have to consult with the paparazzi about this. Second, she would have to find a lawyer so that she could copyright the process and the product. Now where could she find a good lawyer? Not one had been identified among the believers that descended from the Unity. The strongest contingents would probably be found among the Peacekeepers and clinging to Morgan's coattails.
jsorense posted 09-15-98 04:14 PM ET

001/26.1
Brother Greg Treestock and Arsinio Rivera
New Baku Petrochemical Station
Sitting in one of the geology labs Brother Greg was feeling annoyed, irritated to the marrow of his bones. It was his first visit to New Baku and he congratulated himself on his foresight of avoiding it: the noise, the smells, the oily coating clinging to everything and everybody, the lousy coffee. What was getting to him now was the high speed high pressure slant drilling that was going on 18 hours a day, ten day a week in order to increase production. He remembered it was like being in an old time Earth dentist's office, only 10,000 times worse. Just the sound of it made his teeth hurt.
His cover story was that he was inspecting New Baku's facilities with an eye toward pharmaceuticals manufacture. But Brother Rahjiv had really asked him to come out so he could meet with the paparazzi clan lead by Arsinio Rivera. Brother Greg had first met Arsinio in the last days before Unity's departure from lunar orbit. Dr. Treestock, as he was known then, had tried to convince (bribe) Arsinio into letting him bring a few extra kilos of luggage on board. A mutually satisfying arrangement had been negotiated. The men had been able to meet each time Arsinio's travels had brought him near New Jerusalem. They had exchanged gossip, but no additional business had transpired until now.
The door to the geology lab swung open and Arsinio walked in. "Well if it isn't "hiz honor" Brother Greg? So Rahjiv sent you out here to interogate me. That was kind of him." Arsinio pulled up a lab stool and clunked down what looked like a bag of rocks. "Its good to see you too Arsinio. How are the mind worms treating you, you old pirate." They grinned at each other wondering how to conduct themselves. Brother Greg pointed to a comlink indicating that the interview was being openly recorded. With that they got down to business. Brother Greg asking questions: what was known about the broadcast incident, who supported Believers, who opposed them, what were the internal politics of the various factions? Brother Greg knew that all the information he was getting from Arsinio was accurate, but he also knew he wasn't hearing everything. Maybe that could be negotiated at a later date.
"One last question, Arsinio. Where have the Gaians got to? We rarely hear them over the satnet. It seems like Planet has swallowed them up. We have been trying to contact them to trade for some of their hydroponics technology, but have not gotten a response from them yet." Arsinio gave him a sharp look and then took a long breath, shaking his head. "You know, Greg, that's a damn good question. But I don't have an answer for you yet. By the way, take a look at those rocks and tell me what you think." He then got up to leave. "Oh, yeah, we've got to stop meeting like this." He winked with a big grin and left the room. Brother Greg started to laugh, thinking that he made one awful spy. He dumped the rocks out on the bench and stared in disbelief. Black opal???!!!!
jsorense posted 09-18-98 01:58 PM ET

001/27.9
Brother Rahjiv Singh, Arsinio Rivera
Believer Armory, New Jerusalem
Brother Rahjiv sat at in his cubicle reading the report on Brother Paul Laughing Horse's death. It appeared that Brother Paul was out on one of his vision quests in the rocky hills south of Moria. He often did this as a means to communicate with his Sioux ancestors. Mind worms stayed away from bedrock so it was assumed that it was safe. However, when he didn't return for his shift at the smelter a search party was sent out. They found him on top of Big Round Top, his favorite hilltop site. His body was in a sitting position with his heirloom calumet still in his lap. His enviro-suit was ripped and his throat cut. Brother Rahjiv shook his head and let out a long sigh. Could this be the work of The Snake? There were rumors of a silent, invisible assassin even during the last mad days on the Unity. This rumor had turned into something of a boogey man on Chiron with every unexplained death being attributed to him. Did this murder mean that The Snake had paid the Believers a deadly visit? If so, why? If so, would there be more killings?
This reverie was interrupted as two people entered his office. Brother Rahjiv was about to irritably tell them to get out when he realized who they were, Arsinio Rivera and someone wearing a camouflaged enviro-suit with the "rose within a fortress" arm patch of the Gaians. Arsino spoke first, "Brother Rahjiv, let me introduce Emily Birchfield-Smith, the Stepdaughter's top ichthyologist." Brother Rahjiv found himself impaled by a gaze from an astonishing pair of gray gold-flecked eyes. "I am pleased to meet you Brother Rahjiv." She said holding out a small well callused hand. "I hear you need some help with your fish farm."
"That's right Ms. Birchfield-Smith, we're having problems with controlling water quality. We were hoping to acquire some better filter systems."
"You can call me Dr. Birchfield-Smith; London School of Economics, '52. You had better take me out to your ponds and show me what you are inflicting on your own stocks and the native species. I'll then decide whether to help you or not. Good night Brother Rahjiv, Arsino." She spun on her heel and vanished from the room.
"Where did you find her?" Asked Brother Rahjiv.
"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? Anyway, you asked me to contact the Gaians, now here they are. What more do you want from me? Now where can a hard working cowboy get a drink around here? I have had better days, and by the looks of it, so have you."
jsorense posted 09-28-98 04:05 PM ET

001/31.1
Brother Greg Treestock, Ph.D. & Brother Johnny Chee, D.V.M
Believer Vector Research Laboratory
Brother Greg impassively watched Brother Johnny go through the steps of his latest research on the mind worms. Very few Believes knew that there was a small breeding population of the worms in their midst. There was so much to learn and so little time or resources at his disposal. Back on Earth there would have been billions to spend and multiple labs filled with skilled scientists and technician provided by pharmaceutical conglomerates and/or the military. Here he had himself and one veterinarian to decipher the physiology, biochemistry, behavior, nervous system and convert these results into something the Believers to use for medicine, trade or defense.
It was easy to see that Brother Johnny was not enjoying his task. He had placed a young macaque in a cage with a mature mind worm. The monkey was slowly numbed by the single mind worm's weak psy-field. It then moved in with its tentacles, barb-arms and venom-spike. If enough of the venom was injected, the bones and internal organs would dissolve leaving a monkey skin filled with fluid. But one mind worm did not have enough which was why they attacked in swarms. Just as it was about to impale the monkey Brother Johnny covered the spike with a test tube and milked a minute drop of the venom. This was a laborious and risky task but Brother Greg was beginning to find some amazing properties in this venom. Like many substances, the difference between a poison and a miracle drug was a matter of dosage.
The mind worm detached itself from the macaque when it had not venom left. Brother Johnny replaced the monkey back into its cage for it to recover and went on the next milking pair. Brother Greg never had enough of the stuff. Just as Brother Johnny opened the door, the mind worm extended like a striking rattlesnake and stabbed him in the forearm. With a grunt of surprise at this new worm behavior he fell to the floor, unconscious.
jsorense posted 09-29-98 03:44 PM ET

! ! ! P A I N ! ! !
* * * F L A S H * * *
Nothingness Blankness Blankness Blackness Darkness
Grayness Weightlessness Clouds Moving FLYING ? ! !
Yes, he was flying! Johnny Chee now knew where he was. He imagined he remembered that a mind worm had stung him. But how long ago was that? The searing pain had coursed through his body and exploded in his brain. He had thought he was dead, but now he knew he was not, not yet. This was the beginning of the journey! The journey he had taken each time he had taken peyote during the Native American Church rituals in which he had participated back in old Arizona.
But where was he, back on earth or on Chiron? He then broke through the clouds and was able to view the landscape: grey guncotton trees, neon colored xenofungus. This was Chiron. Could Coyote, Raven or the Warrior Twins visit him here? Upwards? He was accelerating and gaining altitude fast, faster. Huge weather systems churned along the equator with lightening illuminating the storms like primeval lava lamps. Higher, he could now discern the curve of the planet and he was still rushing upwards. The shadowy line of the terminus was speeding toward him; darkness below and the stars above.
Johnny Chee no longer felt any sensation of movement. He was floating weightless far above a dark planet. At first all was silence but he slowly became aware of the sound of blood flooding through his body. Over this sensation was the feeling as though his skin was vibrating with the frequency of a Caribbean steel drum. He began to feel euphoric, omnipotent, then sick. Johnny tried to look into his hands, as the shaman had taught him, in order to gain control of the vision. A perceptual gate opened and a gentle wave engulf him. Tumbling in an unseen current Johnny felt as though he was being questioned but he could not understand the language. As he tumbled and tried to regain some equilibrium he notice an aura around the planet and a faint latticework of lines and nexuses across the darkened surface. With the sensation of cool hands on his head began a free fall dive to the planet's face and landed with a crash.
"Brother Johnny Chee, come back to us Brother Johnny" whispered a familiar voice. Brother Johnny crossed the threshold back into consciousness and took inventory of his pain-wracked body. His brain felt like it had gone through a sieve and his mouth tasted like all the stalls he had mucked out over his entire life. Upon opening his eyes he saw Sister Miriam herself holding his head with Brother Greg administering first aid with a worried look. Brother Johnny looked at his hands to see if this was still part of the vision and noticed a deep purple sunburst-like mark around the mind worm wound on his arm. It looked like he was going to have that for a while. With a sigh he raised himself up on one elbow. "Sister Miriam, Brother Greg, we have to talk. What a long strange trip this has been. I think I have been shown something important."
jsorense posted 10-02-98 04:03 PM ET
001/32.2
Sister Sara DeMedici: Cultural Attach� Believer Counsulate to Hope
Garland Museum of Earth's Legacy
Sister Sara loved to visit the museum every chance she got. The Borodino collection was an unexpected treasure from Earth's legacy. But how she had gotten roped into this spy-craft business she had no idea. She had researched her new role by reading 20th century novels by Ian Flemming and John Le Carr�. Two days ago the consulate cook had retrieved a message from a drop box that said to pick up information in the Abstract Expressionist room. As she studied the rhythms of a Jackson Pollack her left hand searched for wad of gum stuck to the bottom of bench. The gum contained the holographically recorded logs of the Peacekeepers SatCon [Satellite Control]. Her fingers first recoiled from the still warm lump, but she gritted her teeth, pulled it off the bottom of the bench and slipped it into her mouth. The flavor of bubble-gum reminded her of a long forgotten childhood in Florence.

Brother Nho Hee Park & Lt. Ekaterina Rutskoi (Peacekeeper guard at the New Jerusalem Consulate)
St. Bernard's Pub, New Jerusalem
Brother Nho was sipping his half-liter of St. Bernard's India Pale Ale as he watched his old comrade-in-arms Ekanovich hammer back shot after shot of Uncle Joe's Vodka, the cheapest grade available. A group of rowdy oil drillers on leave from New Baku insured no one would overhear their conversation. Nho and Ekanovich had both been staff offices with the U.N. forces during the Kamchetka Campaign and continued to work together throughout the Unity mission. They had parted company during the final hours aboard the Unity. Brother Nho was pleased to talk with his old friend but Brother Rahjiv's instructions were explicit: pump the Peacekeeper for information, encourage him to collect specific information, and see if she could be converted to the Believer's cause.
"OK, Ivan," (he always called her Ivan as a joke) "enough of our ancient war stories. Just talking about those days chills me to the bone. How many toes and fingers do you think we almost lost to frostbite?" "Da, da, those were bad dark times all right. T'ings are so much better now? I'll take a division of ChinComs any day over a mind worm swarm."
Brother Nho thought that this might be the opening he needed. "No, Ivan, not even the Believers have not found Paradise here. We are all just surviving by a thread. Why can't we just get along and why do the other Factions hate us?"
"Damn Spatans! Damn Hive! Damn Capitalist Morgan! I t'ink they hate everyone and everyt'ng." Pours and drinks another shot. "Of the Gaians, I know not'ng. They are almost invisible but they are always lecturing us like we were little babies. 'Don't do this, don't do that! Don't hurt the little mind worms!' Crap! They never shut up." Pours and drinks another shot. "Saratov is good Russian engineer! But he is bad Russian politician. Very, very dangerous!" Pours and drinks another shot. "Dr. Lal is good man but he lets everyone push us Peacekeepers around. Including you damn Believers. What makes you t'nk God will save any of us? You're all crazy, but maybe I'm a little crazy too, da?" Emptying her second liter she gets up to leave without the slightest stagger. "'night comrade Nhonovich, see you in a week. And next time you'll owe me the good stuff. I bet we'll get frostbite here too before too long. Das vedanya."
jsorense posted 10-07-98 03:48 PM ET
001/32.3
Sister Cecilia McCoy & Brother Greg Treestock
New Jerusalem, St. Jude Infirmary Office
Sister Cecilia and Brother Greg finished viewing the last recordings of Brother Johnny's condition after the mind worm accident. Brother Greg had been running analyses of the venom for over a year. He knew it had some extraordinary properties, including the fact it was a formidable neural-toxin. In fact no animal that he had tested had survived. In all there were some 128 Believers that had died from mind worm stings since planet-fall. Most of those had occurred in the first couple of weeks. Brother Johnny had been the first known survivor. That might explain the purple sunburst mark on his arm where the fang had entered, which had never been seen before either
Sister Cecilia leaned back in her chair and gave a low whistle, "Jeezus, Brother Greg, now what? I know this is important, but I sure don't know why."
"You and me both, Sister. Did you see how Sister Miriam questioned Brother Johnny? Something tells me she knows more about mind worms than I do. And it's my job to know about those vermin."
"Not only that, did you pick up on what she said about that vision? It sounds like she has been doing some flying around too."
"Maybe there is even more than we dream about in our philosophies, Cecilia. I just don't know. I'm a pharmacist, not a mystic. I'll leave the figuring out "our place in the universe" to those who think they can know. When Sister Miriam figures it out, I'm sure we'll find our too. Now help me figure out why Brother Johnny is still alive. What's special about him?"
jsorense posted 10-09-98 03:59 PM ET

001/33.6
Brother Rahjiv Singh & Sister Althea Rose
Believer Landing Pad B, adjacent to the New Jerusalem dome.
The C-7007-E VTOL Heavy Lift Shuttle rested serenely on the tarmac tied down with multiple lines to keep it stationary during the many gales that blew across the surface of Chiron. A long collapsible tube connected it to one of the satellite domes so that crew, passengers and some light cargo could be loaded without donning full environ-suits. Boeing had over-engineered this transport to insure a very long service life because no one know how long it would take the A.C. colony to establish its own aerospace industry. The shuttle had originally been painted bright orange to help make it very visible but the heavy weather of Chrion had caused the outer coating to flake prematurely revealing the gray primer. The affect of this random orange and gray mottling was a pretty fair camouflage affect against a xenofungus background. The only new paint on the shuttle was the meticulously maintained nose art: an oversized portrait of very well muscled young man in a loin cloth carrying a similarly well proportioned and clad young woman. The caption read, "Conan's Quest." The aircrew had speculated that the pilot, Sister Althea Rose, had posed for it.
"How bad is it Sister Althea?" Brother Rahjiv asked. "I really don't know Brother Rahjiv, and that's what scares me. These are great craft and I have logged thousands of hours on them, but you can only postpone the PM [preventive maintenance] on them so long before things get dangerous. I'm saying that it is getting dangerous and we cannot afford to loose our only heavy transport. The vertical landing auto-pilot, in particular, has given me a fright or two"
The state of all of their aircraft had been worrying Brother Rahjiv for some time. The Believers had some gifted engineers and technicians but they did not have the facilities to properly refurbish a C-7007-E. They had also come out on the short end when spare parts were distributed. The only choice now was whether the Peacekeepers or the UoP would take on the job, and for what price.
"Well Sister Althea, it looks like we are going to Hope. The Peacekeepers are adhering to the letter of our MOA and help us, for a price. Besides, I need to meet with our Consulate personnel and this will make a good cover for a few extra Believers looking around Hope." "Amen, Brother!" whooped Sister Althea, "That's the best news I've heard on a while. I love Sister Miriam and I love our mission, but I need some R&R once in a while and, God Bless her, New Jerusalem ain't where I would chose to go for some fun." Brother Rahjiv and shook his head, Sister Althea had raised many a Believer's eyebrow with her taste in art, not to mention men. If she weren't the best pilot on this half of the planet, the Ecumenical Council may have offered her some re-education. "Besides," she said with a wink, "I might find some big bad barbarian there that needs to learn the loving ways of us Believers. OK, let's get this show on the road. Thou art God, Brother."
"Thou art God, Sister. I'll line up the permission, personnel and cargo. We should be ready to go in five or six days if the Peacekeepers are ready for us. I am not sure they will ever be ready for you."
jsorense posted 10-16-98 07:58 PM ET
001/33.9
Sister Cecilia McCoy
In the air between New Jerusalem and Hope
The powerful drone of the Rolls-Royce turboprops kept lulling Sister Cecilia to sleep during the long flight from to Hope. But the turbulence of Chiron's atmosphere guaranteed that no one would sleep for long. She jerked awake as lightning hit the transport with a loud CRACK and the residual smell of ozone.
With her head aching from the tiring flight Sister Cecilia thought about what was going on in of the Ecumenical Council over the last weeks. What had once been an open committee of spiritual scholars was now turning into something quite different, something with secrets. And what was Sister Miriam going to do about it? Maybe she behind it all? What would she want to hide? The questions kept piling up as the kilometers flowed.
Well at least they know how to have a good time at Hope. Good old Minister Borodino really knew how to put on a shindig. She had a couple of other people to talk to while she was there. Sister Sara DeMedici said she had some vital information, which Sister Cecilia doubted. However, the meetings with those Peacekeepers, William Fisher and Greg Wilson Head of SatCon [Satellite Control], now that might prove interesting. "I wonder how much Borodino knows about this?" she said to herself as the transport started its descent to Hope.

posted 02-02-99 09:43 PM ET            

A Day in the Life of a Victor Rayburn, a Hive Policeman
Written from the perspective an observer of Victor Rayburn
Background: Victor Rayburn is a regular policeman in the Hive Police. He is assigned to the Alpha shift of Police Squad Six-Two and his superior is Police Subcommander Richard Devin and his Commander is Lulan Chen. He is married to Irene Chesterfield, assigned by the Hive as his wife as tests indicated high genetic compatibility. He and his wife have a small apartment # 8A of the Gamma Four Tunnel.
Date: Day Four in the Twenty-Third Decurn in the Year of Landing (000/23.4).
4:00 - Victor is awaken by his wife, Irene, who has been up since 3:30. He climbs out of bed naked, as bedclothes are discouraged as a waste of resources, and walks to the bathroom in their apartment. He relieves his bladder and intestines, brushes his teeth, shaves, and then takes a shower in the small dimly lit bathroom that has a small sink, a toilet, a shower, and a towel rack.
4:13 - Victor goes to the bedroom and dresses in his dark red police uniform and heavy boots. He attaches his photo ID to his uniform.
4:15 - Victor and Irene walk to the common mess for Gamma Four. They collect their breakfast of simple cereal with a little milk sprinkled on, a slice of fruit, and a glass of water and go over to their assigned table; each of the four tables seat twelve, six on each bench which run along the side of the table. They eat their food in silence as required to maintain maximum efficiency of the dinning facility.
4:29 - Victor collects his and Irene's dishes and carries them to the dirty dish area. He returns to his wife and wishes her a good day and walks to the Guard Station Six.
4:37 - Victor reports in at the guard station. Commander Chen has not arrived yet. Delta shift's commander signs him in and he heads over to the guard briefing room. He sits down at one of the computer terminals, logs on, and reads the guard reports since his last shift.
4:59 - Commander Chen enters guard briefing room, nine guards and two subcommanders stand up as the commander heads towards the podium. One of the guards is missing. The Commander goes over one of the subcommanders and asks a question, gets a quick reply, and returns to the podium. He addresses the policeman, "Police Force Six, today, beyond the normal duties, we have to been asked to investigate a rumored black market activity occurring in Gamma Section. According to the rumor, there is illegal trade in musical discs and rare foods bypassing the Hive's supply unit. Our job is to investigate Gamma Section for any evidence of these activities, interrogate those involved, and put a stop to it if it exists. The subcommanders have the particular squad assignments. Line up to accept weapons from the weapons locker." The guards line up behind the respective guard subcommanders. Then Commander Chen leads Squad Six-One and Squad Six-Two to the weapons locker. Using his keys and a combination, he opens it. The subcommanders record the number of each weapon as it is given to a policeman, and afterwards Commander Chen signs the record. Police Squad Six-Two follows Subcommander Devin back to a smaller briefing room where more informally, he discusses the squad's specific assignment and then what each policeman is to do.
5:23 - Victor and Alvin Blanchard, his assigned partner, head off to Gamma Two. As they pass people performing their functions, the fear of the people is obvious. Victor and Alvin start at the first apartment, 1A for follow standard procedure. Not knocking and using their passkeys, they open the door and proceed in. The tenants are not present as was expected. These apartments are smaller than Victor's as the couples who live in them have a lower status in the state hierarchy. They search the place looking for the illegal substances. They find nothing so they proceed to the next apartment, 1B. This continues much the same until they reach apartment 3G.
9:36 - After unlocking the door to apartment 3G and entering, they find a woman in her apartment. This was unexpected by both of them and she was surprised by their entry as well. Apartment searches are always conducted when people are supposed to be at their duty stations. Victor speaks up and asks in a demanding manner, "Kathrina Gross, why are not at your assigned post?" Alvin quietly slips out of the room. She hesitates and then responds, "I, um, left my medication at home, and had to come back to get it." "Where is this medication?" She hurries over to the bathroom and pulls out a small blue bottle. Victor looks it over and hands it back to her. "You had authorization to leave your post?" She meekly nods. Alvin re-enters the room. Victor asks Alvin, "She claims to have authorization to be here, does she?" Alvin, shaking his head, "No, she is absent from her assigned post in the agriculture unit Gamma Nine." Alvin turns to Kathrina and states "Kathrina Gross, you are under arrest for abandoning your assigned duty without authorization." "My supervisor was not available and I really needed my medication. Please, I will get back to work." Looking at Victor, "Victor, I will take her down to interrogation while you search her apartment." Victor nods and begins his search. She struggles briefly and then lets Alvin led her out. He conducts a very thorough search as regulations require, and finds pink silk pajamas in the bedroom and illegal information on the apartment's computer, but no sign of the illegal goods that they were to find. He locks down the computer. He puts the pajamas in an evidence bag and returns with the computer, the medicine bottle, and the bag to the Guard Station.
11:04 - Victor find Alvin questioning the woman in Interrogation Unit Six-Four. Checking with Alvin he finds that she is still asserting that she was just getting her medicine and nothing else. He lets Alvin know what he found. Alvin's eyes light up and he turns to the woman and confronts her with this information with a savage grin on his face. She pleads for mercy. Victor and Alvin leave her in the Unit while they go find Commander Chen. They inform him of their findings. He smiles, "Good, we have something to show for today. I will let Central Intelligence take it from here. Resume your duties."
11:25 - Victor and Alvin grab a sandwich from the stack in the briefing room for patrolmen on duty. They also grab a cup of pseudo-coffee, not nearly as good as earth coffee but it has a kick so most of the guards drink it, to help swallow the slightly stale sandwiches. They worked on their reports while they ate.
11:31 - Victor catches the eye of Subcommander Devin. Devin comes over and is briefed on what they accomplished early that day. He tells them that it is too late to continue the searches so that will be continued tomorrow. He then orders them to patrol specific common areas of Gamma Section. They finish their lunch and head out to the various work areas in Gamma Section.
11:44 - Victor and Alvin enter the Gamma Section glassworks. A whisper of fear spreads through the works. Workers seem to move faster and avoid looking around. Victor walks up to the glassworks manager and asks about any signs of dissent or illegal activities. The manager quickly replies that his people are totally loyal to the state and Doctor Yang, and no problems exist. A crash near the back rings through the room. Victor, Alvin, and the manager head over there. Broken glass litters the floor in front of a worker carrying a now half-full tray of glassware. She apologizes for her clumsiness and starts cleaning up the mess. Victor and Alvin look around, notice nothing suspicious but her immense fear and leave the glassworks. They report in and have her record flagged to be watched for suspicious activities.
11:56 - Victor and Alvin enter the Gamma Seven fields where rice is being grown. They notice two people off in one section talking quietly together and start moving over there. One of the people they noticed makes a few quick hand signals, telling them that this is state business and they are not to interfere. They change their course and circle the room, leaving it from the same door they entered it.
12:03 - Victor and Alvin enter Gamma Supply Depot #1. They walk each aisle looking for anything suspicious. Everything appears to be in order except for a few boxes in the highly privileged row. They are not aligned straight with the adjacent boxes. Victor checks the boxes and it appears that the boxes were moved to conceal that a box of beef jerky had been removed. Beef jerky is very rare right now as near all cattle are reserved as breeding stock. Victor informs Alvin, who checks with the worker on duty, and then calls in the theft. Victor carefully dusts for fingerprints on and around the boxes. He finds a few which he plays to check out at the guard station. Alvin returns with the monitoring video tapes from the past few days of the supply depot
12:21 - Victor and Alvin arrive at the crime lab within the guard station. Victor scans the fingerprints into the computer and starts the matching routines. The taken fingerprints match 6 individuals, all of whom work at the supply depot. They examine the profiles for the individuals and then run the surveillance tapes. The first pass of the tapes, fast motion, slowing done, when anyone came near the boxes, revealed nothing. There were four occasions in which the view was obstructed by boxes being moved in the way of the cameras. They re-watched those occurrences observing closing to see if the boxes in question moved while being obscured. Alvin noticed the change in position and pointed it out to Victor, who nodded and examined it more carefully. They then eliminated four of the fingerprint suspects based on their activities on the film. That left two candidates for the criminal.
13:17 - Victor and Alvin located Subcommander Devin and report their findings. He tells them to finish writing it up and they two candidates will be investigated later. They spend a few minutes working on their reports and realize that it is almost time for weapons check-in, so they head to the weapons locker.
13:28 - Victor and Alvin arrive at the weapons locker and await Commander Chen so they can turn in their weapons as required. Five others are already waiting, and the other four arrive shortly afterwards. The weapons are methodically checked in, each examined to see if it was used and the amount of ammo it contains, and once satisfied the subcommanders would sign off each weapon, and after all weapons had been checked in, the Commander countersigned both sign-in sheets. The two squads then march in formation to the briefing room for a final de-briefing with the commander. Each policeman briefly reports on what he did and saw on his assigned posts and duties. Afterward, the Commander makes a few comments. The commander seems a little bit caught out in his position and not his duties.
14:04 - Victor spends a little more time on his report and then leaves the Guard Station for home, looking forward to a filling meal.
14: 17 - Victor arrives at his apartment to find Irene, and then head to the common mess for dinner. Tonight's dinner consists of a small piece of chicken, a heaping of mash potatoes, crushed beets, stringed beans, with a hard roll and a cup of hot tea. They eat in their assigned places maintaining the expect quiet. Afterward, Irene collects the dishes and carries them over to the large sink. She returns and they walk back to their apartment.
14:52 - Victor and Irene enter the apartment and sit down in the small sitting room between the kitchen dinette and the bedroom. They tell each other about their days. It should be noted that both of them told slightly more than officially permitted under the regulations. They do seem to enjoy each other's company and do relax from sharing their day's activities. Afterward, they talk about times on Earth. Nothing is treasonous in their conversation.
15:43 - Victor and Irene call it a night, remove their clothes, hang them up, make love clumsily, and then fall asleep in each others arms.
=========================
Observer's Report.
I have observed the secret close observation tapes made of Victor Rayburn, and summarized them above. Based on what I see here, the prior recordings, and his updated psychological profiles, I find no reason to differ with the recommendations made by his superiors. I officially concur with the recommendations made by Subcommander Devon and Commander Chen, specifically, that Victor Rayburn is qualified to assume a subcommander role in the police.
Furthermore, I recommend that Victor Rayburn be offered the currently vacant position in the Police as a Subcommander of the Squad Five-Two with all associated rights and privileges.
Observer #36. (Identity classified and on a need to know basis only.)
=========================
Overseer's Report.
I have reviewed the reports of observer #36 and finding nothing out of the ordinary in them, hereby order that the recommendation be executed as written effective immediately.
In addition, I order close observation of Commander Chen to determine the level of his loyalty.
Overseer #7. (Identity classified and on a need to know basis only.)