Hello, friends!
Long time, no see!
I have been bogged deep within the land of Academia for way too long. I haven't been able to play, but the MOAG 'verse has never been far from my mind. It has been the subject of several assignments in different classes over the years (which I've always received A's on, thanks to MOAG), and I just completed a creative writing assignment using a MOAG campaign. I'm not sure how many of you remember my Aeltar character Cetali Anora, but this story is about her first campaign. I had to use creative license in a few areas, and I created a new human to take Quar's place, simply because I couldn't remember much about him, but I think you'll like Maxfield Adams; I do.
So, without any further delay, I give you:
A Respan Rebellion
Cetali
I
threw myself onto the bed after a long day of forced solitude and stared numbly
around at my depressing room. There was
nothing of me in the room besides my gear; nothing to say “home,” or “comfort.” I hadn't been allowed time to grab any personal
items when I was assigned this mission. Glancing at the time, I realized I’d
lost track of it. I needed to send the latest report. I've reported on 357
different individuals while I've been here; of a variety of different species.
But I've been at this game too long—I’m reaching the end of my rope. It was
only supposed to be for six months.
I
pushed the Send Transmission button
on my com unit with a sigh. Was anyone from Central Command even receiving my
transmissions anymore?
For this mission, I was dropped by
space pod on Respan, a terrestrial, silicate planet similar to both my home
planet of Dorthalian and the human’s Earth. At first, everything went smoothly.
Each report I sent was acknowledged, with an electronic “Central Command thanks you for your report.”
At
the four month mark, that changed.
The electronic thanks no longer pings in reply when I send a report. I've had no
further communications from General Barradock, or anyone from Central Command.
At the end of the six months, I returned to the site where the space pod had
originally dropped me off. But no pod returned to retrieve me. All I could do
was continue with my pointless mission, and hope someone would remember to
bring me home.
Craving
the comfort of “home,” I reached for the tiny locket I always keep close to my
heart, the locket with the hologram of my parents. They died in the Nano-virus
epidemic that swept my home planet of Dorthalion when I was fifteen. It’s been
over twenty years now, but my heart still aches when I think of them.
Speaking
of abandonment, I’m so frustrated with this mission, I could scream. It’s a joke!
Observe and Report, he said. You’re so qualified, he said. It’ll only last six months, he said. “Observe
and Report” was the most specific instruction I was given when General
Barradock dropped me on Respan over a year ago. The rest of his instructions
weren’t so clear: “Find those that are lost.”
WHAT?!
How vague could he be? Who are these ‘lost’ people? Who lost them? How do I know who to observe? What
am I supposed to do if I find them? How would I even know if I had found them? The lack of information was
unbelievable! When I tried to ease my concerns by asking questions, all
Barradock would say was that for six months, I was to observe all the individuals
around me, spend two to three days shadowing each one, and send reports containing
all the information I’d gleaned. Here’s the kicker. I’m to keep my distance
from those I’m observing; so, essentially, I can’t let them know I’m even here.
No contact. That’s been the hardest
part. Ever since my parents died, I’ve tried to fill the void by surrounding
myself with people. I heartily dislike being alone.
The
only redeeming part of this mission is that observing these random subjects satisfies
my over-whelming sense of curiosity. I just have to keep it under control and
resist the urge to get involved. Still, this mission is a waste of my talent.
Last
I knew, I was considered one of Central Command’s highest skilled operatives. I
broke records by receiving the highest marks possible on my last physical skills
test; my tactics, tracking, and stealth scores were off the charts. I’m not
just a pretty face—I can use both a sword and throwing knives expertly. I can
shoot weapons with both laser and ballistic ammo. I can pilot any air or space
craft, and repair any electrical or mechanical malfunction. Then there’s my Will
Power. The arsenal in that bag of
tricks are: I can sense others before I can see them, I can create illusions,
so people see what I want them to see, I can move objects—all of which come in
handy while observing, but my physical skills are getting rusty.
Maxfield
I‘d
felt eyes watching me for a fair bit, now, but I hadn’t been able to catch my
observer. Max, old man, I thought, either you’re getting sloppy, or someone out
there is better than you at your own game. I scoffed at that. Game on, friend. No-one’s better at sneaking than Maxfield Adams.
It took me longer to catch sight of
her than it normally did once I’d put my mind to it. She’s good, I thought with respect. It’s not an easy task to out-sneak a sneaker. Now that I’d located
her, I took a moment to assess my observer. She resembled a Cylonquin, with
their human-like build, Elvin features and long pointy ears, but she was
tall—easily over six feet, where Cylonquins usually averaged around four. She
had long, light-colored hair, lighter than those Swedes back on Earth, and her
skin was a light olive with a flush of rose on cheeks and lips, and her eyes…Get a grip, Maxfield! I wasn’t prepared
for what a pair of ocean blue eyes could do to me, let alone a body with curves
in all the right places. She had on a
snug pair of breeches tucked into worn, knee-high boots, a tunic laced tight,
and a travel bag over one shoulder. Her muscles were lean and athletic; the way
she moved hinted at some type of military training, and the barely-there bulges
at boot-tops and wrists told me she was skilled with throwing knives. A worn
shoulder holster cradled a Mark 24 laser pistol on her side opposite the bag,
and left me no doubt that she knew how to use it well. Who is this woman, I thought, and
where in the ‘verse is she from? Maxfield,
old bean, my common sense replied, the
most important question is—why is she sneaking you?
Cetali
I've been observing the human male I've heard people call Max for two weeks now,
even though my observations are only supposed to last two to three days. Since
Central Command has apparently lost interest in me, I don’t feel as bound by
their regulations. Out of the hundreds I've observed over the past year, none
have fascinated me like he does.
With
humans, there isn't much to write about since they are a small minority on this
planet, but Max—Max is different. For starters, he’s bigger than most humans;
he stands at six feet, eleven inches tall, and I heard him tell the barkeep
that he tips the scales at “300 pounds of muscle.” He’s put that muscle to good use, though. I've seen him practicing with his double swords; those blades are transparent,
they move so fast. For such a big guy, he fairly glides from form to form; it’s
like watching a dance. I can barely restrain myself when I watch; I want to test
my sword skills against his so badly!
His
hair is dark and curly, very different from the bright colors favored by Aeltar
males back home on Dorthalion. It’s smart, really; if he’s on a spy job, it lets
him blend into the shadows easily. His jaw is square and covered by a close-cut
beard, and his skin is tanned by the Respan sun, which makes his light gray
eyes really stand out. He’s defiantly not an ugly specimen of humanity.
He
usually wears dusty trousers tucked into combat boots, a collared shirt with
the sleeves rolled up, and a worn leather jacket—like it’s his personal
uniform. When I’d first started observing, he’d been wearing a flak jacket; I
guess he’d just finished a job, because I've not seen him wear it since. He
looks like he’s had some great adventures, and would have a lot of great
stories to tell. I wish I could hear them, but I've got to stick to protocol—no
contact.
Max is never without a weapon of some sort;
either his double swords in a special scabbard on his back, or maybe an AR-15
rifle. It’s wise to have some kind of protection at all times on this planet;
the population looks civilized, but with so many different species living all mixed
in together, there’s bound to be conflict sooner or later.
Observing
him hasn't been easy today; Max started acting outside of his normal patterns.
I was having a hard time keeping tabs on his location—it was like he’d figured
out someone was watching, which is impossible. I’m sure I've remained
undetectable. I tracked him through the variegated greens of scrub oak and
cedar that choke the foothills, but I lost him again in an area pocked with
caves, their entrances partially hidden by a minefield of rocks and boulders of
various sizes.
Carefully scanning the ground for any clue to
his route, I finally found the trace I needed to get back on his trail—but before
I could move, an enormous shadow engulfed me. I froze, and then cautiously
peered around for the source of the shadow.
My
heart sank to the bottom of my boots. Two massive creatures, resembling demons
fresh out of a nightmare, had blocked the sun, standing a few hundred yards
away. In all my observations, I've never seen a species like this before. They
stood easily nine feet tall, with thick, leathery wings arching up and out from
their backs, broad, flat triangular heads with sharp teeth jutting from
powerful jaws, and burning red eyes that restlessly scanned the clearing. They
were obviously looking for a fight. I could only pray I’d escaped their notice.
No
such luck.
The
creature nearest me caught my scent; it let out a screech as it unfurled its
wings, preparing to launch itself in my direction. I struggled to get my pistol
out, but before I could, the deadly hiss of blades leaving the sheath sounded
from the mouth of one of the near-by caves.
“Time
to dance, ladies!”
Max
himself leapt to engage the creatures, sunlight glittering along the length of
the two wicked-looking swords he carried, one in each massive fist, and they
both turned their attention to him.
I
was torn. I should stay out of sight,
follow my orders. But I just couldn't leave Max to face these creatures by
himself—he was outnumbered. Besides, I’d miss all the fun!
My
decision made, I frantically searched for something else to use as a weapon; my
knives and laser pistol could just as easily hit Max as the creatures, so I
needed to use alternative methods. Reaching out with my Will Power, I created
an illusion of blindness around the creature nearest me, and then transported a
boulder into its side. Max and his blades kept the attention of the one he
faced riveted on him. Stupid things had no idea what they were in for!
After
what seemed like hours, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, summoned every reserve
of Will Power I had, and managed to transport a boulder the size of a hover
freighter. I dropped it on my opponent, effectively crushing and killing it, just
as Max neatly sliced off the head of the other.
Leaning
on his swords to catch his breath, he studied me.
“Nasty
creatures, those Cra-ai. They’ve got brains the size of a pea, and bad
attitudes the size of Texas. Those two have been doggin’ me for a fair bit,
now. Much obliged for your help in sending them back to the pit they crawled
out from, Miss…?”
Wiping
my sweaty palms on my trousers, I reached to accept his handshake.
“Cetali
Anora. And you are?” My hand disappeared inside his.
“Call
me Max. You’re the one that’s been watchin’ me. Learn anything new?”
My
eyes widened in surprise.
“You
knew? How…?”
“It’s
my job to know. It’s how I stay alive.” He studied me a moment, as if mulling
something over, then seemed to come to a decision.
“You
interested in a new job? I could use a partner with your skills in the Arts,
and you don’t seem to have other pressing engagements. What d’ya say?”
A jumble
of thoughts raced through my head—Observe
and Report, loyalty, no contact, AWOL— but one crystal clear thought cut
through the rest. Central Command had abandoned me. I was done. Done with this
ridiculous mission, done waiting; done being alone.
“I’d
love to work with you. When do we start?”
A
smile lit up Max’s face.
“Well
done, lass! I didn't think you’d have the courage to make a change this big.
Let’s go celebrate our victory here, and the beginning of what promises to be a
very profitable partnership. And then you can tell me why you've been sneaking
me.”
“With
pleasure, Max, with pleasure.”
The End
Well, hope you enjoyed it, I sure had fun writing it! Much love to you all!
Happy belated Birthday, West! (And to you, also, Carl!)
