The Huari Alliance

[136166]

Hello!
Here is my contribution to the great archive of Transcendence FanFics.
It is about the revenge of the Huari and their alliances to annihilate the Sung.
If that seems unimaginative, it will get more interesting.

Huarmarca, Temple.

Everything... is purple and yellow.
Segments of the sun dance waltz accros my vision, dancing with plums.
I think I was supposed to be somewhere.
"Wake up, my fellow."
The voice draws me across the room and everything, frighteningly, solidifies.
I am on a bed, as though just woken. I sit up and scan my amber and grape-coloured surroundings.
A man in yellow and dark purple robes and a staff sits on a simple stool, his visage a void of emotion.
Around him and are millions of coffins, piled on top of eachother.
Slave coffins.
I remember everything.
The things I learnt.
My name.
My race.
The things my race did against him.
I am not supposed to be here.
And yet, by some cruel trick of fate, here I am.
"Rest, my friend. You have been rescued and brought to the light. Even though the Sung are our arch-enemies, we cannot kill an innocent."
I cannot speak, as though my mouth was glued and duct-taped.
The man continues. "You were not taught of your people's atrocities, child. However, you can see everything now. What will you do?"
The metaphorical duct-tape is peeled off and I breathe heavily through my mouth.
I remember. The sirens. The boxes orbiting the station, like the many planets of Jiang's Star.
The sirens. The twang of the particle guns. By then I got into the Transport. And heard the rumbling.
The rumbling of four behemoth, earth-shaking engines. The roar of slam cannons and the sound of hull-breach sirens. I managed to get a vacsuit on before the hull was breached.
I am drawn back to reality. "What is your name?" the Man demands.
"M-my name?" "Yes." "My name... I can't remember."
The man sighs. "Please take some time."
Then it surfaces to my mind like a breaching orca, far away on the seas of Earth.
"My name... is Neon."

TBC...

[136166]

Chapter 1/I: Captured.

Dear Diary, everything has changed.
I am now a prisoner in Huarmarca.
As far as I recall, my old name is Li.
When I first woke up, I half felt like someone else was trying to insert myself into my body.
I am glad I had you when I got captured. I don't know what else to do.
Pretty much, I am reduced to opening slave coffins like how a can-opener opens cans. After all, I qualify to maintain and open Slave Coffins. I am currently in my room, in a Huari habitat. Most of the people seem to be unaware that I am of Sung origin. I think it is because of my blonde hair. It is abnormal for Sung to have such hair, yet here I am. I recall being bullied for it back at one of the citadels in the Scoria asteroids, close to the star. Then I got moved, and just in time. The Citadel and the odd four slave camps surrounding it were liberated and destroyed by an angry Osaka-class transport with dual Mk.III howitzers. The one-man siege, the incident was known as. Amazingly, the Osaka ate Earth Slavers for breakfast. I remember, my Dad was killed manning the defense wall-turrets. My Mum is somewhere I don't know. She acted strangely, as though our race were criminals. I remember her saying: "Li, someday you will be elsewhere, amongst the stars, away in peace. And when you are, remember me."
Whelp, here I am, knowing that my race are criminals, out elsewhere. Not the way I imagined.
Apotamo keeps a watchful eye on me. He brings me to the temple to work to open the Slave Coffins. I am falling into a new normal.
Everyday, I wake up, eat my breakfast of white rice and megathere meat, travel to the temple via a hyperlink, type into a Heisenmachines Quantum CPU, trying to delete all the Sung code and insert it with lines that will gently wake and re-ignite the fire of life inside all of these trapped slaves. However, these days, the Sung are getting crafty, building new firewalls and passwords into each and every one of those Slave Coffins. Thankfully, I had programmed a brute-force cracking program that will smash and slam codes down the Slave-Coffin's terminal. Hehehehehe...
Anyways, Apotamo is trying to get me to try and experiment with Slave Coffin tech.
I argue: "I am not meddling with something I can only open like that!"
He responds calmly: "The unknown is unknown until you poke it."
I admit, that is a good argument. Cando, the station master of the habitat and the lead mechanic of the Huari Fleet agrees. And, when two high-ranking leaders agree with each other, you can't argue. Urrrrrgh.
Oh, well, I guess I will brainstorm what I can do...
This is Neon, signing off.

TBC

[136166]

Chapter 2/II: Purpose

<RECORDING STARTS>
NEON: Ok, is this thing on?
UNKNOWN: Duh.
NEON: I can open Slave Coffins, use a Q-CPU, but I can't figure out if this thing is on?
UNKNOWN: ...
NEON: ...Anyways...
NEON: So, I am using this recorder thingy to get some recording in, since I have not had much time. I have finally thought of my project. Anyways, I am on Hurin-Class Destroyer 1023, AKA The Purple. The Captain is focusing on driving, but the XO is helping me source parts and get this hunkojunk working. Her name is Kalji.
KALJI: Thats me! Executive Officer of The Purple. Proud pilot, terrific fire-control officer, and daughter of Cando. And that Unknown earlier.
NEON: Yeah, Cando, for some reason is becoming overprotective of me and her. He is a bit sensitive about why. He mumbles that his wife and son got blown up on duty on Hurin-Class Destroyer 666. Yes, you heard that correctly. And I look like his son. Without the blond.
KALJI: I can agree.
NEON: Anyways, this is the 2nd of the 5th of the Year 2420. If you are wondering what format this is eventually going to be, it will be a collection of files an-
KALJI: Come on! lets go with the report already!
NEON: Okay, Okay! So, me and Kalji are working on my new top-secret project: Project Sung Slammer. In short, I am going to turn a Slave Coffin into a spaceship, but the Coffin is going to act as a Mental Imput Machine. Why can't slaves just blast out as soon as they get in a Wind Slaver and smash the camp? It turns out that they have mindcontrol devices to pretty much turn them into Promethians or whatever from Halo Four. Anyways, the idea is that I could control a Wind-Slaver-Like vehicle on my own, if you get what I mean. I have salvaged a wreck, got the coffin out, and we are refiting it. I plan for it to have a shell, the outer composed of Duralloy and the inside of Hardened Plasteel. The Hardened Plasteel is going to keep out radiation that could be harmful.
KALJI: Nearing Huarmarca Stargate, prepare for entry!
NEON: Okay, so I am in the process of obtaining the Duralloy, which should be easy. Neon ou-
KALJI: Warp!
<RECORDING ENDS>

TBC