From: jfol@carina.unm.edu (joshua l follicks-shields)
Subject: Visser Nights, an Introduction.
Date: 14 Aug 92 02:08:16 GMT


                         INTRODUCTION
                         ------------

    In the late 21st century life on Earth seemed to be coming to an end.
Under the burden of ever increasing populations and ever more brutal
exploitation the environment on mother Earth seemed to be ready to collapse.
Facing this danger, the new world government, the United Corporate
Council launched a series of huge generational ships in the hope that
humanity would find a new home on far away worlds.

    Defying the odds, life survived on planet Earth, and eventually
recovered. Humanity recovered it's lost technologies and went
further, developing the hyperjump, a means to contact
her lost colonies.

    Contact was recovered with with many colonies, including
a colont set down in Sol system's nearest stellar companion
Alpha Centauri, a colony named Visser.

    Visser, the name of the planet and the island upon which humanity
resides, was the only planet in Centauri with the means
to support life. The enormous island Visser, notquite large enough
to call a continent, the only appreciable land mass.

    Visser had the means to support life, but was an alien land
with twisted monstrous creatures, constant rain and cloud cover,
and a dark, forbidding nature. >Life could go on there,
but not without changing and growing accustomed to it's
new environment.

    The Federation Earth quicly formed with it's recovered
human colonies quickly made contact with several non-human
sentient races. Representatives of these races, and even
communities have come to Visser, as it's Astrographic location
made it central location in known space. The Sylvian Elves and Drow,
lost outposts of civilizations that met uncounted centuries before
and wiped each other out. Neo-Orks, the survivors of a group of
human colonists who tried to conquer their world with genetic
manipulation. Vargr, a doglike race of clans and mercenaries.
The Zin, a catlike race dominated by a warrior culture. The Phraints
insectoids, with a strange and different technology, and society.

   All meet on Visser, and all are changed by the nature of that
place.

                 The Story
                 ---------

    Barak walked down the streets of the Hub. He was more machine
than man, a few shrunken organs maintained in a bio stassis, in
turn supportin a heavily wired central nevous system. The nervous
system ran a large mechanical body with two pairs of arms. Overthis body he wore a suit
of Bandai type XXV reactive cloth armor, a black hat with wide
low brims, and a long black duster that covered the oddity of
his extra arms, if being a bit wide, and the meter long assault rifle
on his back.
   Most of the metros that eyed him might have stopped him for
that, especially here in the Hub, but the look of all the metal
grafted on to his body stopped them. While the metros knew
their side would be victorious in the battle casued by such
a metal monster's almost certain violent fit, they also
knew they would probably be among the first casualties.
   Barak smiled at that, the paranoid delusions and fits of violence
almost never came anymore, almost. But still the look served
well to intimidate and keep the foolish away.
   He stepped onto the gliding stair that would take him
from the third level to the second, and then the street.
The streets and walkways of the Hub were never busy, the
multiple levels of walkway and the traffic far overhead combined
with the fact that only certain people felt capable of walking
the streets of the Hub, noone ever felt safe, and certainly not
in the Hub.
   The last block dissapeared under Barak's feet and took him
to the Last Chance bar. The Last Chance, was not a particularly
interesting place, but it was easy to secure from those
who would try to listen to the conversations that would
occur there. Nicky Six and Sally Shears were already
at the bar. As various electronic devices came on
searching for the inevitable bugs, and various electromagnetic
waves strobed out looking for the various incosistencies
different listening devices made, Nicky turned to  greet
him. "Ah, a bolt from the blue, bartender, a SymTeq for
my friend" Nicky said after flashing a smile that meant
all clear then turning back to the bar.
    "My favorite black hat," said Sally as she gave
him a quick embrace, her razornails scoring grooves
of thread on Barak's coat. The music system becoming staticy
for a moment as a magnetic wave swept over it.
    "Can't you cut that out?" snapped the small Nok from behind
the bar, as he put Barak's SymTeq on the bar. Barak didn't
like Noks, they were to sullen and presumptuous. As Barak
picked up his drink he overloaded the three bugs behind the Nok
almost certainly set by him, and watched the Nok jump
as the bugs popped in unison. As the bugs destroyed themselves
Barak set down a field of white noise, to cover the rest of the
conversation.
   Nicky begain to talk about a new weapons pod from Kaliyama,
the ex-marine would certainly know such a subject, thought
Barak. She was a very technical girl, and had almost
as much "equipment" as he did, though much more subtly
placed.
   Sally would interject her vampy little witticisms
every so often. Sally liked edged things, and was a master
of the quiet kill.
   Barak sipped his SymTeq, in a world of simulated food,
everything had a tendency toward bland and tasteless.
The SymTeq was bitter, and deeply so, it was so hard
to feel anything, that a strong flavor, even if bitter,
was a pleasure. He liked the chemistry, Nicky's
 bouncy happy attitude, Sally's vampish sense
of competence meshed well with his cold air of menace.
They made a good team.

--
Old Jedi Master: Ahh Joshua, he's more machine now than man, twisted and evil.

                         New Imperial Forces Motto:
                       Outnumbered, But Not Outfought!


From: jfol@carina.unm.edu (joshua l follicks-shields)
Subject: Re: Visser Nights, Part II.
Date: 14 Aug 92 04:29:17 GMT

              INTRODUCTION
              ------------
Organization: University of New Mexico, Albuquerque
Lines: 107


    This space will be used in most chapters to give a small
tidbit of life in Visser. Hope your enjoying it so far. We'll
try to sharpen up a bit as we're on a new WP.

    Most EarthFed worlds have their own "Colonial Militia"
and this is the location that most people who have military
training got it. Also, if you run into Militia, cahnces are it's
all over.

    However, the EarthFed also has a force of "Colonial Marines"
corporations bid for the honor of equiping these units, a
competition mirrored by those who seek to join this force.
Needless to say, competition is fierce. Only the best
get in, and recieve the best training and equipment currently
available in EarthFed. Of course, one can begin to realize
what sort of missions Colonial Marines might be sent on.

   If you know a former colonial marine, than chances are that
person will be among the toughest SOBs you'll ever meet. If that
person was a living legend in the Marines like Nicky Six, best
to not antagonize them.

                      PART II
                      -------

    The bugs behind the bar were not a good sign. It meant somebody was
trying to listen in on a conversation in the Last Chance, and that
meant they were trying to listen in on Teflon-88's conversation.
They probably hired the Nok (Nok is slang for Neo-Ork) to listen
in, but the Nok screwed up and tried to get more, increase
it's payoff. Typically crude, the Nok's cheap bugs, had been
simple to burn out. Barak briefly considered killing the Nok,
but decided that the Nok's employer would probably do that
for him. Barak then considered dragging some information out
of the Nok, but decided the information  would probably be as low grade as the
Nok itself.

    The Nok had been hired by one of two parties, Teflon-88's
potential employer or target. They would want advance information
on T-88's decision whether or not to take the job. If it was the target,
than it was much worse, because that meant they knew about the job,
and the possibility that T-88 would be the contractors.
It could have been somebody else T-88 had tangled with in the past,
but if they were professional enough to have survived, they would
know it would be meaningless and very expensive to do so, while
if they weren't, they were probably already dead.

   Barak did not have to send this querry through
to his partners, he knew they were thinking the same thoughts.
As Barak finished brooding and grinned his sharklike
grin at the Nok, the many chrome monorazored points
glittering up to four vicious looking canines, the
Nok's sallow complection blanching in reflection, Doc
walked in.

   Doc was the next member of Teflon-88. He was an oddity.
His bright orange windbreaker, with several prominant
white crosses marked as a medic, only a crazy man shot a medic.
He was carrying an enormous duffle filled with medical
equipment. He quickly went to the bar and ordered a drink,
a SymKa gimlet, before carefully setting down his bag.
There was little mystery to Doc, even a cursory
scan would show that he had nothing "installed"
and carried no weapons, unless one considered
the strange object in Doc's pocket, and another
around his neck. In addition, he may not have had
the optics inside a look at his shades told
you he was not bereft.

   "Damn, I'm getting too old for this," Doc grunted.
   He was quickly followed by an equally dour Sylvian and
Squat, who contrasted quite effectivly with Doc's
almost strangely normal human appearance.

   The Sylvian was their decker, Jam. His Sylvian
style coat almost his Bandai type XXX Ablative armor
and the pair of Colt flechetters on his hips. Jam settled
a hard sided case down on the table that Doc had sat down
at and set down a small duffle on the floor. Jam might be
the decker, but he was far from lost in a fight, and had
a little bit of everything in his duffle.

   The Squat, Rex, was the Tech. He had been part of the
design team that had built Barak. The lucrative job
behind corporate walls had ended when he told a superior
to shove it. Barak had worried about the squat's temper,
but when it failed to materialize again, Barak suspected
it had been part of a ploy to get himself fired as
unreliable. Rex and Jam had already started a pair
of SymAles. The difference, Barak knew, would be that
the SymAle in front of Jam would last all night, for
Rex it would be the first of many.

*********************************************************
This story is produced with material from a game
and background created by Joshua Follick and
Randy Johnston. All Rights Reserved.
Should anyone wish to use characters or setting
it is strongly recommended that they contact the
above, or face criminal charges and look very silly H\)
*********************************************************
--
Old Jedi Master: Ahh Joshua, he's more machine now than man, twisted and evil.

                         New Imperial Forces Motto:
                       Outnumbered, But Not Outfought!


From: jfol@carina.unm.edu (joshua l follicks-shields)
Subject: Re: Visser Nights, Part III.
Date: 17 Aug 92 00:11:16 GMT


               Weaponry on Visser
               ------------------

    Most firarms on Visser are caseless rounds going
from 9mm on up. 12-15mm guns are not unknown. While, there
are still cased weapons floating about, because of price,
percieved quality, etc, the standard is caseless.
Rounds come in a wide variety from JHP and FMJ on
up to rounds like Dumpis and Bulldog (perhaps you will
discover just what such rounds do, perhaps not).

   Recently, a new propellant has been developed that
was superior to previous caseless ammo. These new
"power" rounds are even more powerful (with a more
powerful kick) than regular caseless ammo. Guns
have to specially designed to withstand the new
stresses involved.

   The reason guns chambered in less than 9mm are so rare
is, simply flechetters. These electromagnetically accelerate
.5,1, or 3mm flechettes. They can fire quite quickly, are silent,
and have no kick (improves follow up accuracy like crazy).
They also have superior ballistic characteristics over
a 9mm or even 10mm.

   Lastly, there is tiering. A module is placed around
the neck and a companion is held in the hand. A focussed
burst of sound is created by the user creating devastating,
but often innaccurate effects.

   A "squat" is a human from a high gravity colony. It is
unclear just what processes "squats" went through
to adapt to their environment. However, they tend to be
in the 4-5ft in height, squater, and much more heavily
muscled. They tend to be slow moving and their strength
tends to be of the load baring nature. Squat archetecture
tends to be the best known, and squat technology, while
heavy and clunky tends to be very durable.

        Part III
        --------

    The Last Chance was the Bar Teflon-88 chose when it came
time to decide on taking a new job. This was the "last chance"
for objections and discussion, after this the group would either
not take the job, or pursue the job without dissension until
it was done.

    The job was an extraction. Their unamed employer wanted a
squat rescued from the Gainax Headquater Facility on Visser.
It would be a dirty and a tough job, but Barak looked foward
to it.

   the dark looks on the face of the decker, tech, and Doc, meant
they were probably going to take the job. Nicky, Sally, and Barak
would practically always be willing to take a job, if for nothing
more than breaking the monotony of day to day life on a place
as dark as Visser. Generally it was the brains
of the group that decided against taking a job. The fact that
they had all arrived, apparently ready to go, was a good
sign to Barak. The fact that they all seemed to be in a
foul mood meant they hadn't thought of any good reasons
not to take the job. Though it looked like Jam was going
to try.

   "You know Gainax is a Sylvian company, they have a real
rep for unpleasant security off Sylvia. At least
at home, they have to show soem moderation, in a
place like Visser, they probably do things to you that
would make a chop shop look like heaven. Remember, Sylvians
live a long time, they have pleanty of time to come up
with new and interesting torture devices and methods."
as he finished talking he sat back obviously trying
to seem threatening. The problem with Jam was that
no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it.
It was clear he was hoping his little speach would scare
someone.

   When Sally replied, "Coooolll" it was everything
Nicky and Barak could do not to break out laughing.

   After a moment Barak said, "Then we're all agreed,
we take the job." With as pleasant a smile as he could
muster.

   "Hey, wait a second," doc said, "we're going to have to parachute
onto a 5 by 5 meter area, what about those of us who aren't
exactly up on our jump training? huh?"

   "You should have come when I offered to teach you, instead
of taking that fancy bypass job Doc," Nicky replied cooly,
"but just for this case, the employer is willing to loan
anyone who needs it a memory block for paragliding."

    Nicky's final manner, sounding more like the
Master Sargeant that she used to be, than the free lance
agent that she was seemed to end debate.
Slowly, person by person, the agreeds came, the mission was
on.

   "After all, part of the pay is a trip to the ring
and an all expenses paid vacation in the Hilton. That's
probably worth it even without the 50 grand in
spending mon." Sally drawled out in her terrible
southern belle accent, "Damn, I'll need to get
that accent right before we go to the ring."

   The ring was the orbital station above Visser,
the remains of the generation ship that brought
humanity to this planet. The Ring Hilton was Visser's
finest hotel, and was reputed to have real food on the menu.
A trip there would have been at best a strain on any of their
finances, a trip, in addition to their usual
pay was very good indeed.

   Barak smiled at Sally's attempt at the accent, as an
avid watcher of ancient 2ds, he was actually familiar
with what she was trying to do, and how bad
she was failing. In addition, the 6'5" frame
of Sally, wearing her tough street clothes, with
the lines of her Nokish heritage, she wasn't full Nok,
but one could see it in her genetic heritage. Normally,
they were just enough to give her a bit of an
exotic tinge, if a bit disreputable, to her appearance.
Tonight though, she had played it up with her makeup,
to try and look tougher. Barak remembered times
when he had seen her dressed to her elegant
best, and looked foward quite strongly to this trip
to see her so again.

   Interupting these pleasant thoughts was the thought
of the Nok at the bar. Barak decided that the Nok
had lived long enough, with a glance
at Jam, and then one at the Nok, he made his
wishes clear. Jam glanced back his affirmitive.

   As they were just leaving the bar, almost too fast for
the eye to see, Jam whipped a gun from his belt with
his left hand and shot seven flechettes. Some merely
imbedded themselves in the Nok's head several emerged
and pinned pieces of the Nok's skull to the mirror
behind him. The mirror quite graphically showed the
whole scene as Teflon-88 quickly walked into the night.
--
Old Jedi Master: Ahh Joshua, he's more machine now than man, twisted and evil.

                         New Imperial Forces Motto:
                       Outnumbered, But Not Outfought!


From: follick@hydra.unm.edu (jeremy a a follick)
Subject: Visser Nights 4
Date: 25 Oct 92 13:53:37 GMT

Information Introduction:
    Sorry it took so long to get 4 out. As you may notice
this is a new account. The University finally caught up to me
and shut the old one down. So now that I have aquired a new
access point, I will Continue.

    Like most Cyberpunk futures Visser is dominated by it's
megacorps, but strange other things as well. But chief among
the corporate strongmen is Bandai (a name you anime fans out
there will probably recognize, but bearing no relation).

   Bandai didn't achieve it's position through foolish
short term ventures. If it has the Bandai label, whatever
the item or manufacture, it's probably among the best out
there. In addition, like most manufacturers they adhere
to a complex order of magnitude labelling system. The
system can of course vary from brand to brand, and was based on
an individual start, so it is hardly uniform, but it does provide]
the basis of comparison. Chances are that if you're using
Bandai type XX or higher, you've got some of the best equipment
out there and you've paid literally in the millions for it.
Of course the best may not always be what you need, the old urban
legend of the punk who "lucked" into Bandai type XXXXX, neural
speed enhancer, when he tried to move his arm at that speed, he
tore it completely off.

Back to the story .....

    BlackHat watched Nicky Six and Sally Shears bantering about
about makeup and fashions. It was their way of dealing with pre-op
stress. BlackHat admired the way they retained so much of their
humanity. For himself, he often felt like
a sailor permanently trapped on a gray rolling sea watching the
rest of the world through a slight haze, except of course when
the need was upon him, the everything gained an immediate
nightmarish quality.

    Doc began the third systematic check of his equipment. Hammer
began to hum a litany of his favorite old squat ballads, which
required Jam, to glance away from his elvish coffee maker with
annoyance.

   They were all readying themselves, except BlackHat, he was always
ready, and never ready for anything else. The Corporate
black project that had created him, and from which
he had eventually escaped, had made him exclusively for this sort
of work, ignoring the possibility of other needs.

   Each unstrapped the Bandai equipment they had been issued. An
alice pack with anti-electronic detection distortion unit and
a light phase inhibitor. Both had units were gunmetal blued and
had discreet XXV's placed where it was hard to see, not unlike
BlackHat's own construction.
Very black, very illegal, and very like Bandai, giving a strange
suggestion of their employer's true wealth and capabilities.
If the units were Bandai, and that seemed likely, the ability
to procure not only this high a level, but in this quantity,
suggested a very powerful individual indeed. It also
gave some hit of how difficult he expected the job to
be. Of course, that didn't bother BlackHat, he knew they were
the best.
   The helicopter they were in slowly approached the Gainax headquaters,
a literal corporate embassy. Gainax was a primarily elvish corp,
and elves were notorious, for their electronic security, and
their willingness to kill non-eleves, especially non-eleves who
appeared to have some orcish blood like Nicky.

    The silenced blades of the helicopter rotor, requiring million
modification per second machine tools indicated that the helicopter's
covert qualities, as it cruised half-a-mile up. They were cruising
into the hub at Mach-1, Gainax headquarters were near the very center.
The Job just kept getting more interesting.

   Slowly Gainax Tower came into view. The low lying clouds ands
smog broke to show the impossibly large structure on the faustian
landscape. The size and alieness of the building's design
repulsed the eye, and yet fascinated the viewer.

    BlackHat pulled out his rifle. 49 centimeters of custome
made beauty. The integral flash supressor/silencer were right.
The clips were properly loaded. The onboard sighting
system flawlessly joined with his own electronics. The last thing
to be checked was the guns brain. It kept track of every
aspect of the gun, made sure a round was properly loaded
before firing, made sure the weapon was right. BlackHat set in his
	jjj
preferred rates for auto-fire and bursts. It was already set to them
those settings, BlackHat was always ready for action. BlackHat didn't
bother to check the rest of his hardware, the classic Desert Eagle in .50
cal reproduction, only changed so that it could handle high-power caseless
rounds, among his many deadly tricks. Checking the rifle itself was more
of a ritual than based on any real need. At any moment BlackHat knew the
exact condition of all his weapons and even important gear, and always
made sure they were ready to go. Why anybody wouldn't, he didn't understand.
It probably had something to do with why he had so much trouble
relating to people. In any case, if he fired more than five rounds,
he would be very surprised.

   The Helicopter stopped very suddenly. The door on the side of the craft
opened and the monomolecular cord shot down to the tower's roof.
BlackHat waited for everybody to shimmy down. Finally grabbing
the superstrong cord with one of his four arms and using it as
a guide to slide down to the roof. The impact when he reached the
roof would have broken normal legs, his completely and soundlessly
absorbed the impact bending down to a squat, then slowly recovering.
Jam was obviously annoyed by his showboating.

    "Damn, I hate it when you do that," Sally said in mild annoyance.

     As she talked, the cord retracted...

(G-d, how will the final climactic installment go)
To Be Continued .....


From: follick@hydra.unm.edu (jeremy a a follick)
Subject: Visser Nights 5
Date: 29 Oct 92 11:42:13 GMT

    Introduction
Organization: University of New Mexico, Albuquerque
Lines: 152


    As you may have noticed I have lost my previous account,
the Net Pigs finally tracked me down. When my account was
closed I lost all my notes and previous storyline. This means
that not only can I not send anyone previous installments,
I don't even have access to them myself. Because of this
loyal readers will notice some minor changes in names and
storyline beginning in installment 4, I hope you will
bear with me. If anyone has Visser Nights 1-3 backed up somewhere,
I would greatly appreciate you sending me a copy to the address
above.

    As for the person(s) who think a helicopter cannot travel
at mach1, it's my story so if I want a helicopter to explore
the deep reaches of interglactic space at 100c, I can. Enough
petulance, by the time my story occurs, advance will have been
made in many areas representing several orders of magnitude
improvement, before the encountering of similar advanced
alien technologies that are now being absorbed. Anything, I as an
author wish to therefor introduce is reasonable.

    In the Visser universe, there are no "metahumans" the
Elves (also Sylvians or Ancients) Squats (Dwarves),
Neo-Orks (Noks), Drow, and others represent alien species
met by humans in their exploration of space. Thus far,
only humanity has mastered the art (and science) of FTL
travel. It is for this reason (or perhaps this is only
a symptom of the reasons) why humanity has economically
tended to dominate, and at least retain an advantage,
when dealing with other intelligent species.

   The Story ......

   Gainax, one of the largest, possibly the largest Elven
corporation, with one of the worst reputations for the
treatment of non-sylvians, who crossed them.

   They were now, standing on Gainax Tower, on enemy turf,
and the only road out would be through the heart of the
enemy's defenses.

   BlackHat motioned for Nicky Six and Sally Shears to take the
lead. Then letting Doc and Jam take the middle. Jam was already doing
passive scans, BlackHat hoped nobody would be stupid enough to
do an active scan.

   BlackHat picked up Hammer and let him down into the ducts, following
last. The choice to be last
was not made out of cowardice, his 360 degree optics would give him
effectively eyes out the back of his head, his armor was also
the thickest, meaning in an ambush he had the best chance to survive.
After moving up 20 metersin an old, apparently now defunct, ventilation
duct, they came to a vertical duct. The objectivewas to be on the
65th  floor, in R&D. They should be at or near 104. Hammer pulled
out a remote clamp rope, and attached it to a handhold, after
quietly checking the handholds strength, and assuring himeself
their were no traps. Hammer and his squat sapper trainning,
was the best they had at picking up on traps, chances were
if he didn't find anything, there was nothing there.

   As Hammer began lowering himself by silent, motorized,
winch, BlackHat surveyed the area. There were no floor
markings. Indicating an awareness on the designers part
of the vulnerability of this avenue to infiltration.
BlackHat would have to guess what level they were on.
The one good thing was that if the vehicle decks were above
R&D, so even if they came out to high, they could just recenoiter
their escape route on the way down.

   After two drops on Hammer's rope BlackHat estimated them to
be at or around the 90th floor. Their vertical duct gave
out. They slowly began to move down a horizontal duct.

   Whoosh, a thing that could best be described as being
a cross between a tarantulla and a porcupinecame out of the floor.
It came up directly in the Teflon Team's midst. Sally, Nicky,
and Jam were on the other side. Doc was with BlackHat on this side.
Hammer was in the things forearm claws. BlackHat knew that
Sally was readying her long wolvers, and Nicky was readying
a high caliber multi-barreled Bandai rifle and moving
back to cover. Jam would be readying weapons but moving way back,
to stay out of the way.

    Doc was readying his tiering module as well. BlackHat couldn't
really see this happening. The chameleon armor they were all wearing
left BlackHat only able to see dim outlines of his companions,
when he looked straight at them. But he knew from experience
what they would be doing. As they knew he would be going
for his sword.

    BlackHat reached for his sword. It's eldritch power flowed
through him, calling for the kill. His sword was a ceram-steem,
 blade with a blade a single molecule wide. The ancient
runes had been beaten into it with each fold. BlackHat
had not yet met the substance he could not cut.
 Yet as he drew and Sally moved into position, the creature
brought Hammer to its fangs and used them to crush his head.
BlackHat looked with horror as he glimpsed the shcoked
face of the squat Hammer, as Hammer's chameleon armor
flickered on and off, unable to cope with the massive disruptions.

   Sally lunged and the creature grabbed her, as it dropped
Hammer's lifeless corpse, still gushing away it's life.

   BlackHat shouldered around to the front of the creature,
he had never seen anything move as fast as this creature did.
Three of the creature's side arms tried to stab at BlackHat,
each was turned aside by his body's armor plating. Just as the
creature was pulling Sally into it's pincers, BlackHat
cut down, and severed the forearms from the breature's
body. Sally pushed foward and punched both arm's blades
into the thing.

   In a cacophony of ultra-sonic screams BlackHat stood back
stunned and watched the thing die. As he looked up,
he could see Jam had fallen to the floor. Quickly
BlackHat finished the thing off.

   Doc moved quickly to Jam, apparently the ultr-sonics
were more than his Sylvian ears could handle. BlackHat
slumped to the floor at the side of the duct. As he looked
up he could see the rest of the team surrounding him.
While he couldn't see their faces, he jnew they were all
looking at him with accusation, he was responsible,
he had let the thing kill Hammer. They would never
trust him again.

   "Are you all right?" he heard Nicky say. As she bent over
and helped BlackHat to his feet. Slowly the storm of
self-doubt moved back, and he realized the rest of the
group didn't hold him responsible, and that they didn't meant
he shouldn't.

   Sally was taking the different elements of Hammer's stealth
technology off his corpse, and the remote grapple rope as well.

   Doc came over to BlackHat, "Jam's going to be fine, though
he won't hear to well for the next couple of days. Hammer's
dead, damn that thing was fast, nothing we can do for him."

    "Chahultaputa," Jam said as he slowly joined the gathering knot,
BlackHat thought he was swearing in Elvish, "that's what
the thing is called."

    "It's a horror straight out of elvish legend. They must
have bio-engineered one into existence, and left it here
in the duct to 'discourage' unauthorized access." Jam finished.

   BlackHat knew there was at least one other way for the
Chahultaputa to have shown up in the corridor, and
suspected it was more likely considering the thing's speed
was too great for even bio-engineered creature.


From: follick@hydra.unm.edu (Joshua Follick)
Subject: Visser Nights, part 6
Date: 10 Nov 92 13:29:39 GMT


     Introduction.....

     The period that marked the end of the Cyberwars on Earth,
and the sending of the generational ships that would create
the first offplanet human colonies, was marked by a belief
in a hot new emerging technology, Biogenetic engineering.
While Biogenetic engineering provided many advances in
animal and plant design, allowing among other things, the
creation of the artificial biospheres of the generational
ships and the arcologies of Earth, allowing life to survive
on Earth after the devestation of the Cyberwars.

    However, the most promising element of the technology
never truly panned out, namely the creation of improved
human beings. The best the technology ever achieved was a complex
series of trials, each trial being prohibitively expensive.
Success rates of trials, each trial being an attempt to produce
a living Bioengineered person, never rose above 10%.
In addition, a successful trial was to merely produce
a living, reasonably intact, person. Trying to produce
a person with exceptional traits, generally resulted
in a tradeoff with other traits. For example, to create
a person of superior intelligence, one almost always
ended up with a physically extremely weak person as well.
Apparently there was some sort of inherent balance in the human
genome, one which normally produced the best individual
possible. Of course, from time to time, the genetic engineers
would discover an "elegant solution," a genetically
enhanced person, with dramatically improved traits.
Unfortunately, these elegant solutions were unrepeatable,
and the few that were produced could never really
justify the expenses. Lastly, at that point humanity on
Earth was fighting for it's very existence, against
the damage they themselves had done to the bio-sphere.
There were few resources left over to expend
on this very expensive and unproductive application.
By and large this area of study became a footnote in human
history.

    Neo-Orks, or Noks come from a planet they themselves
call EzerAuduum. When Federated Ships first contacted the planet
in a general exploration survey. The planet had apparently
just finished a period of intense conflict. While the Noks
were not strong historians, the first known written records
came with the human explorers, the conflict had been more than a run
of the mill war for the Noks.

    Anthropologists of several races have tried to piece
together the Nok history and exactly what happened. This
was made quite difficult by the lack of written records.
Most of the information gleaned was from old Noks, and stories
handed down through generations. Unfortunately, most Nok's
memories tend to degenerate through senility somewhere
in their forties, tending to not simply forget, but to
change memories, exaggerating in some areas, forgetting
others, and sometimes create memories from
whole cloth (whether this is voluntary or involuntary
is unclear, it may vary from Nok to Nok). As for
stories, it is an accpeted custom to change
stories to improve and expand the role of ancestors
in them. This is considered a way to honor ancestors
by Noks. Of course, young Noks tend to belive that
these stories are the absolute truth and
are ready to fight if anyone questions the veracity
of their stories.

    Despite all the inherent difficulties, anthropologists
have managed to piece together some information.
Some time ago, a group called, "the Dark Ones,"
who may or may not have been Noks, came to the planet.
The Dark Ones were technologically adavanced.
They apparently produced genetically superior Orks,
and developed a manufacturing base. Unfortunately
for them, their lines were porous. Genetically
enhanced Orks, knowing that nearly unlimited
reproductive opportunities "lay" just outside
the perimeter deserted in droves, taking their
ever more advanced weaponry with them. Apparently,
the "Dark Ones" tried to give as technologically
simple weaponry to their clients as possible,
gradually increasing the level of the weapons they produced
to try and keep their forces ahead of their
local opposition. By the end, it appears clear
that tactical nuclear warheads were used by both sides.

   What spelled doom for the "Dark Ones" was not a sense
of planetary nationalism on the part of the orks,
but that they represented the best loot on the planet.
Orks came from all over the planet, ready to fight for a share.
The final conflict was fought against the "Dark
Ones" by a coalition of Nok tribes calling
themselves the "Neo-Ork Confederacy." Unfortunately,
these wars seem to have ended only a few years before
contact had been made, so the truth about the "Dark Ones"
may never be known. They are still used by Nok mothers
to scare naughty Nok children. Remnants of the "Dark
Ones" may yet hide on Azerauduum.

    And Now, Finally the Conclusion of Visser Nights....

    The entire nature of the mission had changed for BlackHat.
While a sheen of professionalism kept him from breaking
down into a mad hunt for prey, the ethic of maintaining
minimum casualties was gone. If Gainax wanted to play rough,
pretend that their non-elvish lives were unimportant,
Blackhat was ready to send it right back at them.
For a moment BlackHat wondered if this sort
of feeling was the prelude to an attack of cyberpsychosis.

    They quickly moved down the airduct, finding the
vertcals they needed. When BlackHat felt they had finally
reached the 68th floor, they exited the ducts. Coming down
into a corridor from the ceiling. They pinned themselves
to the sides of the corridor as they looked around.
BlackHat's passive sensors noted active motion detectors.
They heard casual footsteps.

   Slowly a pair of guards walked up to the nearest intersection.
There, at the console in the the middle of the intersection,
they both ran hand cards through the readers and looked
around. BlackHat could see them clearly, and he could tell
they hadn't seen his group, or they were the best actors he had seen
in a long time. BlackHat could hear them talking, "This is
so annoying, those elves must be paranoid, this must be the
third security alert this month."

    "Yeah," replied the second gaurd, "they should stop
dicking us around with these training drills,
or we may not believe it when its the real thing."

    "Now that's cute," thought BlackHat. Still he waited a good long
while, letting the patrol get a good way before
he raised a hazy outline of a hand and motioned the group
foward. In a few seconds they found an elevator clearly
marking this as "Level 83" a few more
minutes search found them a room convieniently
marked "Grav Vehicle Bay, Level 2."

    As they found a stairwell, they saw the door had
an electronic lock. Jam came up quickly.
In seconds, as everybody else kept lookout, he had the
cover off the lock. A couple quick alligator teeth
connectors, and before the lock's simple brain
could register something was wrong, overpowering
instructions told it that this was a simple maintenenance
sweep and that it should open the door.

    They quickly moved down the stairwell to, "Level 63."
Jam repeated the steps he had just taken a few floors
above on the lock here, once again leaving it look
like nothing had ever been done.

    Moving down the hallway they suddenly pinned themselves
to the wall as an entire platoon of mixed race troops
moved down the hall. Jogging in stiff formation, they were
clearly grumbling about the, "phony training drills."

   Suddenly the doglike Varger commander barked, "Quiet
in the ranks!" Recieving immediate compliance.
Once again, as they moved by, eyes front, they overlooked
the hazy outlines of the group.

    Just as they finished moving by and BlackHat was getting ready to sigh
in relief, Doc turned off his tiering module. A click was clearly
audible. The entire platoon stopped. BlackHat could tell
that Nicky was unslinging her multi-barreled rifle, as he
pulled his rifle about.

   Suddenly, the Varger just oped fire as the group scattered.
As if on cue the rest of the platoon either tried to find firelanes
or opened fire. Blackhat knew that this was poor organization.
Squads should haved moved out to try and flank, while others
laid down suppresive fire. Instead, the motly arrangement
of troops, individualy recruited by Gainax, were behaving like individuals.
Individuals with high-tech assault rifles.

   Nicky and BlackHat rounded the corners on the corridor
last and turned to return fire. They could have kept on going,
but that risked a firefight over the objective. They would have
to defeat or hold this force here, and use the time
they aquired before Gainax could bring up reinforcements.

   "Jam, take Doc and Sally, and try to get our objective,
well try and hold them here." BlackHat radio'd.

   BlackHat didn't even check to see his orders followed.
As Nicky poured enormous amounts of fire down
the hallway, killing entire groups, he took aimed shots.
Only pausing long enough to make sure his shots
were in the head or torso, first up was the Varger.
Two shots in the head and he was gone.

   As BlackHat picked off those trying to flee or show
leadership, Nicky cut swaths in their ranks. The
return fire was wildly innaccurate as most
of the troopers couldn't seem to pick out where
the fire was coming from. Panic quickly
filled their ranks
as they began to flee. Little did BlackHat realize that
many floors above, corporate lords watched the battle,
and seeing the poor performance of their troops,
panicked as well.

    As the fight all but ended, BlackHat noted that miracuously
no alarms had yet sounded. As he fell back with Nicky
to rejoin his companions, the alarm finally sounded.
Just as it began to blare through the hallways, they found
Lab 8. BlackHat kicked in the door as Sally
cut the guard to pieces. Once in the door, BlackHat
drew his Desert Eagle, three elves around the objective.
The Eagle barked three times. The DUMPIS rounds
(Depleted Uranium Multiple Projectiles In Solution)
blew one head off, blew in one stomach, and the upper
right side of a chest. Before they unhooked
the dwarf from the machines, BlackHat had poped the
two remaining skulls with a table, not wanting to muss himself.

   They entered an air duct in the room, moved
down it 8 meters, and emerged through the roof of the
duct. Moving quickyly to the stairwell Jam kicked in the door.
Moving up to 82 they exited and jogged quickly to the vehicle bay.
They were apparently staying one step
ahead of the pursuit, as Doc used his tiering module to blow down
the door.

    Just inside the bay was what looked like a high level
management team, with bodyguards.
The firefight that ensued was fast and extreme.
BalckHat couldn't take cover, because Doc and the objective,
a squat, were right behind him. BlackHat ate three
 rounds as the superior firepower from his group
quickly decimated the bodyguards and managers.
The good news was that they had a grav van, perfect
for Teflon-88's needs, warmed up and ready to go.
Doc' quick tiering opened the bay doors permanently.
Sally drove as Jam locked a special diffuser
into the vehicle's systems. In a few seconds
the vehicle had passable chameleon camouflage.

   "Doc, report on the objective." BlackHat said as one by one
the team turned of their chameleon armor
and electronic distortion belts.

   "He seems to be heavily sedated, by them, but otherwise well."
Doc Responded.

   "Damn," Blackhat thought, we made it.

   Later at the "Chatsubo Visser: The Gentleman Loser"
Making what seemed to be the hundredth toast to
their lost companion, many already not feeling
any pain from the painkillers used to repair various
and sundry wounds, the tickets for the ring arrived.

(To be Continued....?)
----------------------------------------------------------------

   Hope the above didn't seem to muchikinish. Tried to hold
the action for the final story. Running out of time here at
the end. Think of this as the flashy introductory
sequence to a hopefully much longer story. Kudos
to Silk 'n Steel, just about the best currently
out there, don't worry Darrin, you're
getting better. I would appreciate some feedback,
positive or negative, mail or post (my mailers, kind of wierd)

,
--
Old Jedi Master: Ahh Joshua, You are more machine now than man, twisted and
evil.
   The New Paintball Underground, banned at University of New Mexico,
but still on the net!