Conquest of the Wessari
This odd story idea- Well, considering the dialogue and setting "inspiration" I'll be using it's more like a parody idea. Anywho, it came to me after watching the Stellaris Invicta miniseries by the Templin Institute and how it would be viewed by a different perspective. For those of you who are familiar with the miniseries, by the title alone it would been a clear enough clue as to whose perspective it was and might get it. For everyone else, eh, I'd suggest watching the first episode and come back here. Trust me, it'll help.
And speaking of help, I gotta put up this disclaimer before I REALLY need help of the legal kind.
Disclaimer: The basic intellectual properties that inspired this story are not own by the author. Stellaris is owned by Johan Andersson and Paradox Interactive, while the setting of Stellaris Invicta is inspired by the let's play webseries of the same name by the Templin Institute YouTube channel. Please support the respective official release of each property however possible.
Before the Apocalypse
Within the star system of Raznum orbits the world of New Turbak, homeworld of the Wessari Civilization and its collection of island nations. As odd of a naming convention it would seem to an outside observer, the planet was rechristened such by the Wessari as a way to socially and culturally show that they were above the petty wars of expansion that plagued and scarred their world, that instead they will walk side by side with their fellow nation-states towards a greater future amongst the stars, with probes and robots sent to distant worlds to further their scientific understanding of the universe as a whole. Already these nations have become members of the Greater League of Nations, contributed to that intragovernment's Global Peacekeepers from their already downgraded armies into National Guards to counter the rather sporadic and small scale incursions of radical and revolutionary cells alike who were otherwise displeased with how New Turbak was reorganized.
Yet, these Post-Atomic forces are ill-experienced and ill-prepared to fight a war, a true war. Their last Great War was over a century ago when Island Nations and Archipelago Leagues fought against one another for submarine mining and farming rights, to expand their individual territories for settlement and colonization of their fellow citizens. A Great War that had wrought down the geopolitical world of Old Turbak and laid the foundations of New Turbak, whose victors and veterans could have never have imagined the ambitions of powers and nations that lie just beyond the heliosphere of Raznum.
Never could they have imagined the horrors of true extrasolar war.
Within a radio telescope facility, one of many of the rather underfunded, understaffed and often publicly ridiculed Initiative for the Search of Extrasolar Intelligence, it was just another ill-glorious night of boredom as the radio technician of the late watch spent most of his waking hours to perfect his shuttle swing for the game of Nerf. He had just landed a perfect shuttle with the ball into an improvised nerf hole when a buzz was heard, an alert that the radio telescope had captured a signal of unknown origin. He, at first cautiously, then rushed towards the nearest speaker in order to hear the signal itself. What was heard was rhythmic and fluctuate tone that was both foreign and alien to the radio technician.
Immediately he used the facility's internal coms grid to contact his supervisor, who was vastly asleep and not appreciative of the interruption as he spoke into the receiver. "If this isn't an insanely beautiful busar, I'm hanging up…" The ISEI supervisor groaned in insomniac annoyance.
"Sir! I-I think you should listen to this!" The radio technician answered excitedly as he placed the receiver against the speaker and raised the volume enough for the ISEI supervisor to hear. His initial grogginess soon gave way to shock and surprise as he rose out of bed, only to be reminded that he slept in a bunk bed as his head was made too painfully intimate with the bed frame above. Naturally, curses and expletives erupted from his mouth from such an action.
Soon enough, the radio telescope monitor room was filled with activity with other technicians who were roused from their own slumber as the ISEI supervisor still in nightgown rushed inside. "Great Mother, I hope it's not another Kubari Spy Job."
A second technician turned towards the supervisor. "Annul. Computator's confirms that the signal is unidentified."
A third had just concluded a call. "The sels from Air Monitor said the skies are clear; no terrestrial launches."
The first technician then blurted out what everyone in the room had thought off the top of their heads. "It's the real thing! A wireless signal from another star!"
There was a pause that fully demonstrated the seriousness of the implication before the ISEI supervisor grounded the other technicians. "L-Let's not go half-cocked!" He then turned towards third technician. "Run a trajectory source computation, I want to know EXACTLY where it's coming from. Also get a connection with Aerospace Command, they would want to know about-" He nearly slips as he looks around at the impromptu Nerf shuttle field. "What's with the nerf balls?! You're going to kill me here!" The ISEI Supervisor verbally chewed out the first technician.
The third technician did so as she input the commands and the data for the computator to perform the necessary calculations. However something was wrong with the outcome. "This can't be right…"
"What's wrong?"
"Calculated distance from source is at one hundred, fourty-two thousand kilo-statutes." She then turned back towards the ISEI supervisor. "It's coming from high orbit."
The supervisor then increased the volume of the speaker as the implications became silently clear; the signal wasn't some leaked or directed radio signal from another star. The aliens were already here.
On the far side of the archipelago, which was the homeland of the United Isles of Arenni, deep within the military headquarters of the nation-state the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff and four torch General Nerus was debriefed en route to the command center by the Commanding officer of the UI Aerospace Command two torch General Rono Halvatti. "Who else knows about this?"
"ISEI in Castees Nola identified a signal, but they're more confused than we are." General Halvatti replied, which earned him a glance of disapproval. "Excuse me, ser." With his security card, the otherwise secure doors flew open and the military officers entered the command center. They then cross the room as technicians and assistance flurried about as they assessed the data from one computer to the next.
"Major?" General Halvatti then gestured to one of the officers within the command center.
"Yes, sir?"
"Satellite reception is currently impaired, but we were able to get these." Colonel Halvatti then showed General Nerus diffused images upon an illumination table presented by other military officers. Whatever the object was, it was larger than anything short of an asteroid that their world had ever seen.
"Looks like a big shisno." General Nerus commented.
"We estimate that it has a length of about three kilo-statutes and a mass roughly two thirds that of Isrador Island." General Halvatti reported in reference to one of the largest islands eastern hemisphere of New Turbak and in the United Isles in Arenni in particular, where they are currently located.
"What the naga is it? A meteor?" General Nerus questioned.
A second officer, Major Uldu commented. "No, ser. Definitely not."
"How do you know?"
Major Uldu struggled to find the right words. "It's, um… it's slowing down."
"It's doing what?" General Nerus nearly repeated in disbelief.
"It's… slowing down, ser."
With the news, General Nerus approaches the nearest phone and picks up the receiver. "Get me the Minister of Defense." After a pause from the reply in the other end, he spoke out loudly. "Then wake him!"
Upon his bed within the Presidential Palace, Delvis J. Norgrem had several newspapers before him when the nearby phone rang. He answers and listens to his wife's voice on the other end of the line. "Hi. It's me."
"Hi darling. What time is it there?" Delvis inquired of his wife who was currently on the far side of the UI.
"Two in the morning." Vinnarette Norgrem answered. "I KNOW I didn't wake you."
"As a matter of fact, you did."
"Liar." Vinarette's tone suggested that she smiled when she said the word.
"I have a confession to make; there's a beautiful young brunette sleeping next to me." Delvis then turned towards his young daughter who, in turn, was in the process of waking up herself.
"You didn't let her stay up all night watching television, did you?"
"Of course not." Delvis answered. "You're flying back right after the luncheon, right?"
The young child, Lyssa, then looked up half-asleep, half awake. "Konna?"
"Here's your Konnati." Delvis then handed the receiver to Lyssa before he rose from his bed. Mindlessly, he turned on the television monitor that presented a round table news discussion. The image, however, was of poor quality than usual this morning.
"…President Norgrem's approval ratings have slipped below forty percent." The audio of the aged pundit was barely audible over the unknown interference. "Even his crime bill failed to pass. Are the salad days over for President Norgrem? Yonsil?"
"Leadership as a pilot during the Lentil Sea Incursion is completely different from leadership in politics." Yonsil commented upon the news panel.
With both phone and television remote in hand, Lyssa spoke with her mother rather bluntly. "Monna let me watch Scripsar."
"Traitor." Delvis near-playfully retorted as he exited the bedroom.
"That's the problem. They elected a warrior and they got a wimp…" A third pundit added.
As Delvis walked down the hallway with newspaper in hand, a security guard snapped to attention. "Good morning, Your Excellency."
"Good morning, Kell." Delvis then handed the security guard, Kell, the athletics page of the newspaper. "That game couldn't have been pretty."
Kell simply chuckled from the comment. "Thank you, ser."
As Delvis approached the breakfast table, he walked past his communications director, Loralla Tuburik. "Lory, you're up early this morning."
Loralla gathered her things in a slight rush as she followed Delvis. "They're not attacking your policies. They're attacking your age." She spoke in reference to the latest news articles before she read an excerpt from the newspaper. "Addressing the Senate, Norgrem seemed less like the president and more like the orphan sarlet asking 'please ser, may I have some more.'"
"That's clever." Delvis took the criticism in stride, as if he did not take such talk seriously. "That's really clever."
"Yeah, well, I'm not laughing. Not one chuckle." Loralla commented. "Age was never the issue when you keep to your beliefs. You were thought of as young, idealistic. Now the message has gone lost somewhere." She spoke exasperated. "It's just too much politics. Too much compromise."
To such words, Delvis replied. "Isn't it amazing how quickly everyone turns against you?"
In an attempt to ease the tension, Loralla handed Delvis another newspaper. "Well, the Mellon Shire Register has named you one of the ten mate-able sari of the year."
"You see, sustenance at last."
It was then did a palace aid approached Delvis. "Your Excellency, it's the Minister of Defense."
Delvis turned and picked up the receiver. "Yes?" He then listened to the Minister of Defense, to which he replied in abject disbelief. "C-could you say that again?"
Within a community park near a river that separated one great city from another to the far north of the archipelago, many aged and elderly Wassari were engaged in the game of Ti-non. However, one game was different from the others as it was between elderly father and young adult son. The former grew impatient with the latter as the son, Melg Tellus, was in deep thought.
"So, what are you waiting for? Hmm?" The father, Hulish, half-taunted. "My welfare warranty will expire, you'll still be sitting there."
"I'm pondering." Melg replied, still in heavy concentration despite the distraction.
"Yeah, well, ponder already." Melg made his move and rolled the dice to signify the end of his turn. Hulish then moved his piece, a Levy, in accordance to the outcome of the dice roll in almost no regard to the sophistication and complexity of Ti-non.
It was at that moment did Melg notice that Hulish had drunk his morning brew from a polystyrene cup after the dice was rolled. "Mon, do you have any idea how long it takes for those cups to decompose?"
"If you don't move soon, I'm gonna start to decompose." Melg then moved his piece, an action that raised an eyebrow for Hulish before he moved his own corresponding piece to counter his son's own. "Hear, Melg, I've been meaning to have words with you." He took a deep inhale of the narcotic smoke before he continued. "It's nice that you see me so much now, but-"
"Don't… Don't start, Mon."
"I'm only saying that it's been, what, four cours? You're still wearing your seal band?"
Melg replied with three hoved digits. "Three cours."
"Alright, three, four. You're annulled. Come on, move on. This isn't healthy." Hulish then took another deep inhale of narcotic smoke before he tossed the dice.
"No, this isn't healthy. Cropping isn't healthy." Melg lightly scolded as he saw the outcome of the dice, far more than he would ever need when his telecom unit beeped.
"How many times is that now? You TRYING to be unemployed?"
Melg then used his Lancer piece to take out one of Hulish's Levy pieces that were next to the Regent piece. "Pumbaa."
"Wait a moment, wait a moment, wait a moment." Hulish began to contend the move as Melg stood up and began to leave. "Wait, wait, wait. This is not…. This is not pumbaa."
Melg then shared breath with Hulish before he departed. "See you tomorrow, Mon."
"Now just hold on. This is not pumbaa!" Melg was already upon his cycle and road off when Hulish realize that he lost the game of Ti-non. "Ugh, pumbaa…."
Once Melg returned to his job at Television Select Systems, he is met with numerous employees either on the phone with distraught customers or at computers. Upon the wall were rows of monitors that presented all the stations available to the cable service, each one of them have their audios and or visuals distorted. However he rode his cycle through the office space as if it were an everyday ordeal rather than a crisis that could lose him employment and income.
A thought that was thrust onto him as his employer, Nolgit Blurt, rushed to him. "Melg! Melg! What the naga is the point of a pager if you don't activate it?!"
"It was activated. I was just ignoring you." Melg then maneuvered his bike around a still occupied employee before he asked Nolgit. "What's the, eh… What's the big emergency?"
"It started this morn. Every channel's making like it's the twenty-nine forties. We got static. We got snow. All kinds of distortion." Nolgit answered as he nonchallantly tossed a desert beverage container in the garbage bin, an action Melg took extreme notice. "Nobody knows-"
Melg retrieved the discarded container from the big. "What the naga are you doing?" He then approached a blue bin to place it in the proper receptacle. "There's a reason why we have containers labeled 'recycle'- What the naga is going on?" He then noticed that more mis-disposed containers in another waste bin. He then pulled them out and presented them. "Great Mother in Paradise."
"So sue me. Melg! We got a problem!" The two then entered Melg's cubicle to discuss the issue further.
"Did you try to switch transceiver signals?"
"Oh, please! You think I would be in this panicked if it were something THAT simple?" Melg then looked at the computator readouts and scans the data presented to him.
"Okay. Let's point the dish at another satellite." Melg stated as he lightly misted the potted plant upon his desk.
"We tried that. It didn't work." Nolgit then presented Melg more paperwork and computator readouts. "It's almost as if they weren't even there."
"Alright. Alright. What've we got here?" Melg took a closer look at the readout and, with a puzzled look upon his face, looked up and back at Nolgit. "This is impossible…."
On the far end of the archipelago that made up the United Isles of Arenni, in a rather unassuming caravan park of a local farming island, an adolescent boy watched a classical speculative fiction film on the television.
"…We've created a race of automatons…" Or at least attempted to watch the movie if it weren't for the distortions. "…their function is to…" The adolescent wassari slaps the television monitor in a vain attempt to get a better audio and video resolution for what is another long day of being in the middle of nowhere.
"Ulell, the signal's all screwed up." The adolescent wessari, Broi, commented offhandedly as he continued to slap the seemingly malfunctioning machine.
"Stop it. Just leave it alone, you're going to break it." Ulell scolded as he was in the middle of cooking breakfast for the family that was present within the caravan. The only female of the group, Yssinifae, continues to apply makeup to make herself prettier.
"It's so fuzzy." Ulell then hands Broi a bottle of medicine, to which the latter pushes away. "I don't need it."
"Just take it, tusk head." Ulell then turned towards Yssinifae. "Yssin! Make sure Broi takes his medicine." With only nonresponse as a reply, Ulell threw a tower at the younger sibling while Broi continues to rough house a better viewing quality.
Before an argument erupts, a horn was heard and Ulell knew exactly who it was when he rushed out of the caravan to meet another farmer. The look upon the farmer's face did not look pleased. Ulell pushed Yssinifae away from the door before she could attempt another ill attempt at flirting and make the situation worse than it had already devolved.
"Mytel, good morn to you-" Ulell attempted to be diplomatic when an armful of rotten vegetables was thrust into his face.
"You see these? I got a whole Great Mother condemned crop full of these." The farmer, Mytel, then unceremoniously dropped the rotten vegetables on the ground. "Where the naga is that monei of yours? Do you even KNOW what time it is?"
"He had to refuel. There must have been a problem." Mytel simply rolled his eyes in response.
"We both know what the problem is. I must have been out of my skull." Mytel then added. "If he's not in the air in half a score, I'm getting someone else."
Broi smacks the television once more just as Mytel walked away and towards his cargo hauler. "Broi, stop that! By the Great Mother, I swear!"
And it was at that time did the picture finally died out.
Later on, at a nearby farm, Ulell finally locates his father Coyall Seelse in his antique, centuries old bi-plane and had begun to dust the field. However, this was not Mytel's farm.
Once the plane landed and come to a complete stop, Ulell in his motorcycle approached Coyall just after he had stumbled out of the plane in a drunken stupor.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" Ulell scolded his father.
"Bringin' home the sooie. Earnin' my keep." Coyall drunkenly replies as he looks upon both the field and his aircraft, proudly proclaimed "And doing a fine job, if I do say so myself."
"Mytel's acre is on the far side of the township!"
Coyall looked towards the farm, confused, before he turned back towards Ulell. "Are you sure?"
"Condemned it, Coyall! He was doing you a favor. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who doesn't think you're completely crazy?" Ulell cursed. "What are we supposed to do now? Huh? Where are we supposed to go now?"
With a displeased look upon his face, Ulell rode off back to the caravan as Coyall looked at the occupants of the farm once more. They were not the same ethnicity nor spoke the same language as Mytel. Thus, he took a healthy swig of alcohol from his flask as if this was no longer his problem.
Later that morning, at the airport diner, Coyall was in the middle of breakfast and recover from his adrenaline-fueled hangover and recent depression with a cup of morning brew, but with little success. It was then did a group of flight mechanics enter the diner. To his luck, one of them sees him. "Well look who we have here."
The flight mechanic, Nilk Bradge, then sat next to Coyall at the counter. "Hi, Coy, heard that you had a little trouble this morning. Dusting the wrong field?" The other flight mechanics laughed at Coyall at his expense and it took all of Coyall's hungover willpower to pay them little mind. It barely worked.
"I know you're probably still confused from your hostage experience." This caught the attention of one of the other flight mechanics, Terris Melsil.
"'Hostage experience'?" Melsil asked in bewildered amusement. "Did somethin' happen to ya, Coy?"
"He ain't never told you?!" Bradge called over his shoulder. "Seems cours back, our sel here had been kidnapped by aliens. Did all kinds of experiments on him and such. Tell him, Coy."
"Not today sars, okay?" Coyall half-begged.
"Get a couple of spirits in him, he'll tell ya all about it. Crazy stuff, won't you Coy?" Melsil and the other flight mechanics could not hold back their amusement when Bradge asked. "Coy… When they took you up in their spaceship, did they do any…. mating things, do you recall?" The other flight mechanics could barely breathe from the accusation. "Do you recollect?"
Coyall, as much as he believed in justified for whatever actions he could deliver onto these flight mechanics for making fun of one of the most traumatic experiences in his life, he took the higher path and simply left some currency on the counter and walked out. That and he was too hung over and depressed to do anything else worthwhile.
"Oh Coy!" Bradge's guffawed tone betrayed the insincerity in his tone as Coyall left.
Within the many corridors and hallways of the Presidential Palace, Loralla and two palace aids were in deep discussion while all three were en route. "NCN's running a story about how we are covering up some kind of nuclear testing experiments against the mandate of the League." One aid reported.
"Well tell them to run it if they want to embarrass themselves." Loralla then added to herself. "Wouldn't be the first time…"
"BNAS' been all over my rear for the last few days and it had only gotten worse this morn. They want to know our position in all of this." A second aid inquired.
"Our official position is…. We have no position." Loralla half-laughed in response.
"Lorrie, what the naga IS going on here?" The first aid inquired in exasperation as Loralla entered a lift.
"Come on, sels, would I keep any of you out of the feedback?"
"Yes/Absolutely" Both aids responded simultaneously, but the lift doors closed before Loralla could offer a retort.
Within the Presidential Office, Delvis, General Nerus, Minister of Defense Farsal Qanmata, and Chief of Staff Holb Keebis began to discuss options on how to respond to the unknown object. Keebis then tossed down a folder upon the table before him. "At the moment, our satellite uplinks are rather unreliable. Would it not be possible if this thing just passed us by?"
"What if it doesn't 'pass us by'?" Qanmata looked up from his copy of the data with a face that reflected puzzled annoyance. He then turned towards Delvis. "Let's just target some IOBMs and blow it out of the sky."
General Nerus quickly countered. "Forgive me, but with what little information we DO have, the only thing that will accomplish is turn one dangerous falling object into many."
"Not to mention how pissed off the League would be if we did something like that without a legal resolution from the Security Council, let alone the General Assembly." Delvis added. "We've had enough international scandals as is; we don't want to add more to it if we don't need to."
Just then Loralla entered the office. "Luckily the reporters are making up their own story at this point. But it won't keep for very long."
"Aye, we were lucky that it didn't get any worse since we first got a glimpse of whatever it was." Delvis agreed. "A few fortnights is already pushing our luck as it is. We may need to upgrade to Defcon 3."
"Absolutely." Qanmata then turned faced General Nerus. "General, contact SOUAD and the Security Council. You tell them that we've upgraded to Defcon 3."
"That's not what his Excellency said." General Nerus countered.
"Isn't that a little premature?" Loralla added.
"I don't think so." Qanmata answered.
"We have over half of our armed forces on weekend leave, not to mention the commanders and troops are in the capital for the Union Week parade." Keebis reminded the group. "The rest of the planet is even worse than us with the upcoming armistice holidays and if we recall our troops back, that'll raise a major red flag for the rest of the planet."
A palace aide then showed two Space Command officers into the room. Delvis motioned them "Go ahead, Commander."
The Space Command Officer then read the data from a secured binder. "Intelligence has indicated that the object is leaving our orbit."
"So it is going to just pass us by." Keebis noted from his earlier statement.
"That must make it good news then." Qanmata added as well.
"Uh, no. Not 'passing by', it's leaving." The Space Command Officer left little room for the ramification to sink into their collective minds when new images are shown from a secured data briefcase. "Something else replaced it." The rough, incomplete radar image showed a different object. "It's a quarter larger than the last object, but that's not all." The image then switched to an updated image, with what appeared to be scaffolding alongside the alien object. "It appears to be constructing something massive by our estimates. Far bigger than the League Space Station in orbit."
An uncomfortable pause filtered the room before Qanmata asked. "How long until that thing is done?"
"At the rate at which it is observed, and assuming that it doesn't get any larger than what we theorized, it would be completed within six fortnights."
With a heavy heart, Delvis ordered. "Upgrade everyone to Defcon 3."
Back within his office at Television Select Systems, Melg had just warmed up his meal when Nolgit entered. "Please, tell me that you're getting somewhere."
"Oh, well there's some good news and some bad news." Melg answered.
"Alright, what's the bad news then?"
"You're in meal penalty for disturbing my luncheon."
"Aaand the good news is that you're not gonna charge me?"
"Uh, no." Melg quickly corrected. "I found the problem and it's not our equipment. There's some kind of weird signal embedded in the satellite feed."
"So, wait, that's the good news?" Nolgit raised an eyebrow as Melg slid his office chair before another set of computators with an intricate program displayed upon the monitor.
"Aye, because the signal has a definite sequential pattern so as soon as I find the exact binary sequence and calculate the phase reverse on that calculated spectra analyzer I built on your lifeday and apply it, we should be able to block it out completely."
"…And we'll be the only guys in the city with a clear picture!" Nolgit realized as he kissed Melg on the forehead. "Aye! Aye! Aye! Oh Melg, this is why I love you!"
"Yes."
"You're too kind." Nolgit was about to turn to leave when an alert was seen upon Melg's computer. "What's wrong now?"
"Well the signal just changed completely." Melg then rushed to correct the problem. "Like it was replaced with another one, more aggressive than the last one."
"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Nolgit spoke with a crestfallen tone.
"Not just yet. It just means that I can't leave here just yet in case another signal comes in to replace the old one. I can definitely get a clear signal, but it won't be as permeant as I would like."
"So how long until we get something permanent?"
"Depends on how annoying these new signals get." Melg stated as he found himself in another issue where he would have to both eat and work at the same time. The only difference is that this might take longer than a single meal, if not a single day.
In fact, he would not get a good night's rest for quite some time.
For all of you who are wondering by now. Yes, this is basically a big ol' spoof of the movie Independence Day with Wessari and Humans instead of what is actually shown. Originally I had it be just as tense and fast paced as in the original movie, but then I looked at the dates in the first archive video which showed that it was measured in months rather than days so it might be a bit slow paced with only sporadic mentions of the passage of time.
Still, it does give a bit of a different view of what is otherwise an NPC race whose conquest was little more than stats and images not unlike your typical web browser game. Granted, it's QUITE a familiar view, but a different view none the less.
Anywho, flames and brutally honest reviews are not necessary. I know how slocky this story is and I can berate myself just as well thank you very much. And in case it wasn't clear, I do not own the rights to Independence Day either.