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PLATO
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Of the occupied South
Dec 2002
time: 23:32
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Prologue
The eleven judges of the world tribunal walked silently into the chamber. They all had the tired look that everyone had become used to in a world gone to war. Their solemn nature did not seem to reflect the fact that it was all coming to an end. The only sound was the scraping of chair legs on the ancient wooden floor as they took their respective seats. The courtroom, as well as the world watching on the vid transmission, awaited their ruling. It was not so much that the ruling was in doubt, it was just a tired and abused world very much needing the closure of hearing it.
The Supreme Justice of the tribunal looked over the packed courtroom and took a moment to reflect on the events that had brought them all to this time and place. Five hundred years of high intensity warfare…five hundred years of billions laying dead in the streets…five hundred years of destroying the planet that they all loved. It was hard for him to believe that these ten prisoners before him were responsible for every last tragedy. For the first time in his one hundred year career on the bench he questioned his society’s rule against the death penalty. If ever an exception should be made…but no. No, that was the type thinking that these criminals hoped to foster in everyone. The solution that had been decided on was the best. Enough! It was time for him to pass sentence to the criminals and to address his world. He straightened his robe and his back . He avoided looking at the criminals and looked squarely into the camera.
“Ceasar, Cleopatra, Shakka, Bismark, Elizabeth, Catherine, Mao, Joan, Abraham, Smoke-Jaguar…You stand convicted before this court of the most heinous crimes against humanity. The blood on your hands is without parallel in our world’s history. The billions that died at your hands and the billions more that died bringing you to justice cry out for our strongest punishment.” The Supreme Justice now hardened his look and his resolve and faced the criminals squarely. “It has been decided that you shall be banished from this world for the rest of your natural lives. A ship will be constructed that will be capable of transporting you to a primitive world that will sustain your retched lives. There you shall live among the heathens until death claims your worthless souls. Your passion for war and violence shall be eliminated from our world. Your supporters will be hunted down and imprisoned. The cycle of violence that you inflicted upon us is at an end. There is no appeal…there is no reprieve. This judgement is final and will be carried out immediately upon completion of the transport ship. This is the will of the people.”
There…it was done. Finally, the centuries of war that these leaders had imposed on this world were over. The world was united and now at peace. So to were the justices of the tribunal. The only unnerving moment was Bismark as he was being drug from the courtroom in chains yelling “I will return! If it takes me five thousand years, I will return!” The justices all silently trembled at this remark.
The sentence was carried out as imposed. The transport ship ejecting the life pod of each leader at various points around this primitive world. It did seem that there were some wondering bands of humanoids down there but that was the least of the worries of the ships crew. They were simply happy to have this filthy duty behind them. They smiled on their return trip knowing that the warmongers could no longer practice their evil craft.
-My first attempt! Be gentle. All criticism is welcome and appreciated. I recognize that many on this board have far greater expertise as writers than I could ever hope to. Still, I have gotten such enjoyment out of your stories that I felt compelled to contribute. Enjoy.
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joe08536
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I like the prelude to it all. It works well for me.
J
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vovan
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No it doesn't. I first read as much stories as I can fit into myself, and then comment to all of them. As opposed to read-comment-read-comment. So, the one minute is exactly how long it took me to type up the response.
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EQandCivfanatic
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waiting eagerly
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PLATO
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Of the occupied South
Dec 2002
time: 23:32
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Ceasar’s Tale
The Landing
Ceasar gasped for air and pulled at the restraining strap. The life pod was hurtling downward with a force of nearly 4 gravities. Something was definitely wrong. Ceasar was no expert on space travel, but he knew enough to know that this was not how it was supposed to be. As if in response to this thought, the computer chimed in with its own confirmation, “Approach aspect deviating from planned decent. Stabalizer control…Offline.” Stabalizer control? What the heck did that mean? Ceasar felt the huge weight upon his chest increasing by the second. “Please assume crash positions…Impact in fifeteen seconds,” the computer voice calmly informed him. “Crash?!?” thought Ceasar. What had those morons done to him? The full force of the impact was lost to him however, as Ceasar fell into unconciousness from the pressure of gravity upon him.
The man stood upon the hillside watching the strange meteor streak toward him across the sky. He studied it carefully, as he did most things. His brother always called him a dreamer, but he preferred to think of himself as a thinker. Was it not, after all, his decision to search out new lands for the tribe? Had he not proposed the planting of the seeds that now provided abundant berries to them? Had he not been the one to show them that drinking from above the wash area of the rivers caused less sickness? A dreamer? Hurmph!. Just because his brother was more larger and more fierce meant nothing to him. Just because he had shown the other men how to brandish the leg bones of the mountain bears as weapons…just because he had driven away the stinking horse riding vandals. Hurmph! His thought process was interrupted as the crashing sound of the meteor moving through the sky reached his ear. He tried to judge where it would come to ground and by dead reckoning figured that it would be in the hills about a mile from here. Keeping one eye on the ground and one on the meteor he began to move in that direction.
Ceasar woke to the acrid smell of burning plastic. His vision was clouded by the thick smoke. He fumbled with the restraining straps to get them loose and then tried to rise. He fell face first into the floor of the pod. He couldn’t seem to work his left leg. Ceasar looked down and saw two inches of metal protruding from his thigh and cursed. Slowly he drug himself to his feet and braced himself against the wall. He pulled the seal open and heard the computer say “Self destruct deactivated…Timer sequence disabled.” Self destruct? “Hmm,” thought Ceasar. How to use that to his advantage. As the smoke cleared by billowing out of the opening, Ceasar noticed a metal storage box toward the front of the craft and drug his body over to it. It contained a weapon , scrolls, rations, and a survival kit. Ceasar laughed at this attempt by the council to assuage their guilt at marooning him! As if this made up for them stripping him of his power! He laughed again as he remembered Bismarck’s parting comment to the judges. “Five thousand years,” thought Ceasar, “I’ll just have to do it in four thousand!” He laughed at the thought of Bismarck returning to Alpha Prime and seeing Ceasar sitting upon the throne!
Suddenly Ceasar’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He grabbed the spear and turned toward the seal.
The man had never seen an explosion like the one when the meteor had hit the ground. It seemed as if the whole earth trembled. The man was thrown to the ground from the force of it, but he had seen where it impacted as he fell. Quickly he got to his feet and dusted himself off. This was an amazing discovery! This must be studied. How could he convince his militant brother that they must stay in this area long enough for him to learn this meteor’s secrets? The man was upon the crater now and the sight brought even him to a pause. This looked like no meteor. He was expecting a large rock, but this was smooth and shiny. What manner of thing was this? As he watched from the top of the crater, suddenly part of the object opened up! The man drew back. Every instinct told him to run, but his thirst for knowledge kept him in place. Smoke came billowing out of the opening for a moment and then seemed to dissipate. Did he hear the sound of a man’s voice within? The man’ curiosity got the better of him. He must know what the secret of this meteor is! He made his way down the crater…slipping and disloging rocks as he went. Perhaps his brother could have made it down without disturbing the loose earth, but who cared? Their was mystery here and he meant to solve it. When he reached the opening, he peered into the cavity and was surprised to see the tip of a spear move toward his nose. It was a man! And inside a meteor too! The man held his ground and spread his arms, palms facing up and said, “Welcome…I am Romulus”
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PLATO
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Of the occupied South
Dec 2002
time: 23:32
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Thanks vovan and Paddy! It means so much to know others enjoy.
Cleopatra’s Tale
The wind blown sand made visibility near zero as Cleopatra walked across the barren landscape. What a god-forsaken place, she thought. Her life pod had landed well enough several miles behind her present location. She had been shocked when it promptly blew itself up just ten minutes after exiting it. She had slung the ration pack and the scrolls over her shoulder and started moving east, hopefully to the tiny stretch of green she had seen on her decent. She had been going for close to four hours through the desert, one plodding footstep after another, when the storm hit. What a storm it was! She was now moving at an angle to the wind, trying to keep the grit from entering her nose and mouth. Just when she thought she was in the best position, the wind would shift ever so slightly filling her nose with sand yet once again. Cleopatra was not deterred though. If anything, she was resilient. She drew here golden colored cloak around her head and shifted her direction slightly once again. At once, both cursing and daring the storm, onward she plodded through the haze.
During this time she took time to reflect on what had happened on Alpha Prime. How stupid were the wars that had led to her ruin! She had been empress of the northern island of the great sea. Hers had been a land of peace. Her people, while worked hard, were content under her rule. The prosperity they enjoyed had made them seem to forget the freedom they had under the old republic. Then that damnable Caesar and the horde he ruled could just not be content with what they had. The attack had been sudden, unprovoked, and horrible. Her response was equally terrible. Their allies had soon been brought into the fray. For five hundred years they had struggled and in the end their world was in shambles and their power stripped. Cleopatra vowed to herself, in this moment, that she would use whatever resources this world possessed to ensure that Caesar would soon see his end. She would not let him come to rule this world as he had attempted to do on their home world. Her vow strengthened her and the storm tempered her. Her being now felt alive with purpose.
The storm had continued for two days when it finally began to abate. Cleopatra had no idea how far off of the easterly line she had chosen that she might be. By dead reckoning and the occasional glimpse of the sun, she determined that she was perhaps south east of the green delta that she had been moving toward. Ahead of her she could make out a rocky and sparse terrain rising from the endless desert sand. At least the change would provide some variety. The closer she came to this new terrain, the more the storm waned. Cleopatra could now see some distance and begin to look for signs of life. Overhead she saw a small bird flying in her direction. It was apparently attracted to the glimmering of her garment. She paused and watched the bird as it drew near and then landed upon her shoulder. Cleopatra was taken aback by the birds beauty and grace. She mentally named the bird “Falcon” after the long dead General who had led her troops.
Suddenly she was startled as a group of men came over the rise in the rocky outcrop. They were clad in the garb that laborers of her world had worn…bear to the waste, a short work shiff and sandals. As they presented no threat, Cleopatra faced them aquarely and waited. The falcon on her shoulder cocked its head and seemed to be content to wait as well. The men shielded their eyes as they were staring into the late afternoon sun and froze as they saw the majestic Cleopatra standing there. Suddenly their was a burst of conversation among the men. Cleopatra could not make out their conversation from this distance, but one unfamiliar word kept ringing out to her…it was the name “Isis”.
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28-12-2003 08:30
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