In Space, No One Can Hear You Index

As an excuse for a lazy blog post, I thought I'd put all of my recent science fiction posts from the as yet unnamed setting in one place. If you missed any of them the first time, they'll be new to you:

A pictorial overview of a bit of galactic history. You have to know your Radiant Polity form your Archaic Oikumene!
Deshret: A desert planet where tomb-robbers steal digital souls.
Necromancers: Undead travelers trying to find the remnant of their ancient species and resurrect them.
The Phantasists: On a floating city, they'll sale you neurochemical dreams.
The Pharesmid Syndicate: A criminal organization where all the members are one guy.
The Vokun Empire: A brief look at these bad guys and their primary subservient species.
The Zao Pirates: and their shrouded asteroid homebase.
Zyanthion: A world where the people have a reputation economy and duel to protect their honor.

In upcoming posts we should get to the ichthyoid and psionic Slavers, the Star Folk (space hippies),  the Apotheosis Labyrinth, more on the species of the Vokun Empire, space amazons (of course), a pleasure planet, and maybe the weird (consensus) wizard-mind of Smaragdoz.

The Vokun Empire

In the far future, part of the Milky Galaxy is controlled by the decadent Vokun Empire. More to come on them later, but here’s an introduction to the vokun and their foederati. The information here comes from fragmentary reports of questionable accuracy. Any errors will corrected in future posts.

The vokun are once-fierce conquerors in decline. As vokun age, they become progressively more obese until they are immobile without use of their walker conveyances. The elder vokun direct the younger in administration of the empire, but increasingly they’re concerned only with political maneuvering and decadent games.

The vokun have a distrust of disembodied minds, so they employ “humanoid computers” in the form of ibglibishpan savants. Their neural structure and training makes them logical, dispassionate--and ideal accountants, administrators, and archivists. Some are trained in reading the emotions of other humanoids, while the ibglibdishpan themselves always have serene expressions. Their mental structure does make them prone to “halting states” and other sorts of madness.

The kuath are the fanatically conditioned shock troops of the empire. They are seldom seen outside of their 2.5 m tall bio-armor suits, but they are humanoids rarely older than their teens. The humanoids have a symbiotic relationship with ocean-dwelling god monsters they call the Dragon Mothers, who supply their biotechnology and battle drugs. The Dragon Mothers gave the service of the kuath to the vokun in exchange for sparing their world from bombardment with mass drivers.

The engineers of the empire are a humanoid species with crustacean like characteristics, including metallic carapace. All the engineers have cybernetic enhancements and host groups of nanites in their bodies.

Warlord Wednesday: Betrayal

Let's re-enter the lost world with another installment of my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"Betrayal"

Warlord #119 (July 1987)

Written by Michael Fleisher; Art by Ron Randall

Synopsis: Morgan is in the palace in Shamballah in cape and purple shirt, worrying about where his wife might be. His worrying is cut short by would-be assassins with blue stars on their faces and green outfits with streamers. Just another day in Skartaris.

While Morgan’s dealing with the assassins, Machiste’s beating up a couple of guys in an arena. The gladiators comment on the ferocity their king has displayed since coming back from Shamballah. Machiste asserts the reason for his new vigor is his new lady:

Morgan’s old lady--Tara!

In New Atlantis, Kara (aka Power Girl) has found the tomb of her grandfather, Arion. Entering the tomb, she finds a room with a computer and a gem on a pedestal. She sits down at the computer console, but then feels strangely drawn to the gem. She feels compelled to shoot it with her heat vision. It shatters--and trouble emerges:

Meanwhile, Redmond’s also having a tough time. He finally reaches a Skartarian village, but gets chased out of town after he steals a piece of fruit. He climbs a cliff face to escape his pursuers, but them winds up falling.

Morgan follows one of the escaping assassins, to a lake with a fortress on a small island at its center. He plans to swim behind on of their coracles so they’ll think it slipped loose accidentally. but he’s attacked by a purple giant squid. It drags him beneath the surface, but he’s able to stab it in the eye and escape to the shore of the island.

Morgan sneaks into the fortress and overhears a startlingly conversation: this organization known as the Kraken Pentacle was apparently sent after him by the King of Kiro--his old friend, Machiste! Morgan is surprised by one of the assassins who discovered him in hiding. The two fight, and break through the floor, falling into the ceremonial chamber.

In Kiro, Machiste and Tara are attacked by assassin’s identically dressed to the one’s that went after Morgan. The assassin’s claim they have been sent by the Warlord. Machiste and Tara defeat them, but Machiste lets one live so that the man can return to Morgan (if he’s really the one who hired them) and tell him he’s gone to far.

Later, Tara descends into a dungeon beneath the castle where a prisoner is chained to wall. Tara pulls a device from beneath her cloak. She bathed in energy, then her true identity is revealed:

Things to Notice:

• Morgan sports a new outfit this issue. Machiste is the only one of the principles who has gotten new togs.
• Why hasn't anyone else in the castle noticed Tara chained in the basement?

Where it Comes From:
The demon inside the gem is reminiscent of the Evil One and is jewel in previous issues.

A Book Bundle Giveaway

The Happy Whisk, long-suffering (I kid--probably) spouse of Tim, the lord of Gothridge Manor is having a book bundle giveaway in honor of her 444 post. Check it out here. It includes the new issue of Tim's 'zine, The Manor.

One Man Mob

The Pharesmid Syndicate is criminal organization centered on the planet Smaragdoz. The members of the group are all bio-clones or mind copies of their founder, Smaragdine terrorist Uln Pharesm. Pharesm was a mole within the development group in the beta phase of the Smaragdine noospheric Consensus. With his access to the computing power of the noosphere, he was able to generate several copies of his mind, and abscond with governmental funds. Pharesm betrayed the members of his terrorist cell, keeping the money for himself, and hijacking their bodies with his copies. With his new mind-confederates, he embarked on a criminal enterprise that continues to this day.

Pharesmids all wear facial tattoos, though they may disguise them in the course of their criminal operations. Their progenitor has augmented his brain to give himself limited psi abilities, and it may be that some lieutenants have similar enhancements.

PHARESMID SYNDICATE
Attributes: Force 3, Cunning 6, Wealth 5
Hit Points: 29
Assets: Cyberninjas/Cunning 3, Smugglers/Cunning 1, Thugs/Force 1, Laboratory/Wealth 3

Treasure from the Desert

Deshret is a desert world, terraformed in a previous age, but now slowly sliding back into uninhabitability. Its forbidding red sands would have long ago been abandoned to its hostile indigenes and desert monsters, if it weren't for the treasure buried beneath its shifting dunes.

During the Archaic Oecumene, the desert world was the location of a floating metropolis. The city did a thriving business in the preparation and storage of uploaded mind copies in their secure databanks (referred to as “tombs”) buried beneath the planet’s surface. The Great Collapse lead to the city literally disintegrating to dust under assault by rogue disassembler swarms. The stored data facilities were left unguarded and ripe for tomb-robbers.

Shortly after the incorporation of the Radiant Polity, haphazard thievery on Deshret coalesced into a business supporting a new society. The tall, jade-skinned, ectomorphic Ogüptans controlled the exploitation of the past from their capital, the spaceport Moph. Some are sandminers, sifting the red dust for fragments of code and the rare whole artifact left from the Great Collapse. Others are tomb-robbers, wresting the minds of the long dead to sell into slavery, to toil in the infospheres of today. 

Tomb-robbing isn’t without risk. The data is secure, and getting at it often requires overcoming deadly physical and digital intrusion countermeasures. Perhaps even worse, strife around the Great Collapse or soon after, left the desert full of spirits and devils. Wild nanites haunt the wastes: malicious djinn and  body-thief dybbuks. Then there are the masked desert tribes, murderously resentful of intruders into their sacred places.

Despite these risks, there is no shortage of people willing to brave them for a chance at quick money.

Swords & Celebrity

The red-skinned humanoids of Zyanthion are known throughout the galaxy for their pursuit of pleasure and their peculiar, anarchic society. Popular media depicts them as passionate to a fault; as likely to be heedlessly pursuing a new romantic conquest as to be fighting a duel with archaic (but deadly) graphene-edged rapiers--and they do either in a very public way.

To visitors from other cultures, Zyann seem obsessed with status and celebrity. Virtually all their activities are public recorded in their noosphere [planet-wide internet and grid]. They live or die socially by the praise or disapproval they receive for their actions. Zyanthion operates on a reputation economy. There is no money; goods and services are given to others in hopes of enhancing one’s own prestige. This “currency” (awarded and tracked in the noosphere) is known as éclat. Zyann who have accumulated high éclat (whether from artistry, craftsmanship, bravery, or skill as a lover) can become a powerful in their society, able to occupy manors and estates, and assume self-chosen titles of nobility--as long as their éclat remains sufficiently high.

Current fashion is important to Zyann in all facets of their society. Religions and belief systems appear, flourish, and fall from favor almost as quickly as clothing fads. Only a few Zyann have cultivated the “right” sort of name to avoid having to chase styles to maintain their position.

Because of the supremacy of reputation, Zyann honor is easily offended. Off-world visitors can easily find themselves challenged to a duel. Consultation of a lawyer of at least moderate éclat is advised in such situations, as there are face-saving ways of avoiding the deadly art of Zyann swordsmanship in many cases.  Of course, visitors have to be mindful of their own graciously gifted éclat in such situations.