Innocent Bystander
First Post
That was awesome LB! I'm going to miss my regular updates. Thanks for writing, it's been a fantastic read.
X-COM (updated M-W-F)
Seconded. This was absolutely up to the standard we've all come to expect. I'll definitely miss reading your stuff here. I guess it's time to dig back through Travels and Shackled City.
Thanks for all the time and effort it took to keep us entertained! It has been thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated.
Thanks for all the time and effort it took to keep us entertained! It has been thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the praise, guys.
Today's post covers the end of the last session, when the group returned to Earth after the Mars mission. Friday I'm going to post the players' own end-of-campaign aftermath posts, and then I'll have a short epilogue for next Monday.
I'll also post some more on what I'm working on in my other fiction. I have two novels and a novella posted now, and should have a few more things coming out in the near future.
* * * * *
Session 30 (November 24, 2008)
Chapter 144
Thirty days after blasting off from Cydonia, the Avenger descended from orbit around the Earth, entering the atmosphere of the blue planet. With the spacecraft low on fuel, Ken took them in on a straightforward descent, the ship streaking through the atmosphere over the northern Pacific, coming down toward the west coast of the United States. They’d been sent coordinates for landing, not at HQX, but at San Francisco.
“Looks like we’ve got a bit of a welcoming committee,” Ken said, as he guided the Avenger to a landing site located within the Presidio. A series of white temporary buildings had been erected there, and as the ship landed in their midst, settling onto a pad of reinforced concrete, mechanical arms extended a plastic tarp over the entire site.
The hatch opened to reveal a familiar face, if one obscured within the transparent hood of a biological containment suit. “Well, look who’s back!” Grace said. “I know you’re eager to be out and about, but we’ve got decontamination set up for you first. After that, I think there’s some other folks who want to talk to you.”
“Lead the way,” Catalina said.
The decontamination process was through but quick, taking less than an hour altogether. They were given fresh clothes, and were directed by armed security personnel to a door that led to a grassy park, an open space surrounded by low buildings, with the towering majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge visible in the background. Hundreds of people were visible, and they broke into applause as the Alphas appeared. The ground rose into a low hill opposite them, where a footpath turned into a stone staircase that led up to a paved area above. A number of people were waiting for them there, but before they could head in that direction, three people stepped forward to greet them.
“I suppose we should get our chance to congratulate the heroes, while we still can,” Doctor Wagner said.
“Yes, I suppose there will be a line, shortly,” Joan Beauvais agreed.
“You guys did it too,” James said, once they had exchanged hugs and tears. “You made this possible.”
“Good job, team,” Chief Hallorand said, with a grin. He glanced over his shoulder up the hill. “I guess you’d better not keep them waiting.”
They headed out on the path. Most of the crowd gave them space, but the applause only intensified. A few familiar faces were visible as they made their way across the lawn. Catalina stopped before one of them.
“Hey there, Cat,” Jürgen Ritter said.
Catalina reached up to pat his cheek, and gave him a brief kiss. “They didn’t go for nothing,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes wet.
Jane spotted someone else they knew. “Hey, Vala, good to see you made it,” she said.
The agent’s smile was wry. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a limp.” She blinked in surprise as Jane hugged her, then laughed and returned the gesture.
Another familiar face was waiting for them at the base of the steps. Agent Drake’s lips tightened as she regarded the Alphas. “Well. I suppose you did it, after all.”
“You told us to, remember?” Vasily said. Jane hugged her as well, but the most she got out of Drake was a slight grimace that might have been something close to a smile.
“Who’re the nobs?” Catalina asked, looking up at the people gathered along the paved area at the top of the steps. Several stood apart from the rest, waiting patiently for them to approach.
“Hey, is that the American president over there?” Mary asked.
They made their way up the steps, facing the VIPs, who were arranged in a rough half-circle facing them. This close they were instantly recognizable, as they included several of the most famous leaders of the human race. The noise of the crowd died out as the Alphas reached the top of the steps, and one of the waiting leaders stepped forward to address them, and those gathered.
“Members of X-COM,” President Barack Obama said, “On behalf of the people of Earth, we owe you a debt of gratitude that we can never repay.”
There was a surge of applause and cheering at that, which the President let continue for a few moments, before he raised a hand. Again the din silenced, and he continued, “We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us, to be sure. We’ve got to rebuild our cities.”
Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon added, “If there’s one thing this attack has done for us, it has united us as one people, one race. The human race.”
Obama nodded in agreement. “Yes. Together, we will rebuild our shattered planet.”
“Except for the French,” James added, under his voice.
General Graves, standing in the front rank of dignitaries, echoed the doctor’s comment, shouting, “Yeah, and if those Chinese and Frenchies don’t like it, well, we’ve got the Elerium!”
The Secretary-General rubbed his forehead. “Ah… yes.”
President Obama came forward and shook the hands of each of the Alphas in turn. “Good work,” he said, as he took James’s hand, at the end of the line.
“Thank you, mister President. And keep up your good work.”
“You know,” he said to James, “My surgeon general was in New York when the bombs hit. I’ll be speaking to you, Doctor Allen.”
“I’ll look forward to that conversation, mister President. Medicine is going to be revolutionized by the alien advances.”
Another of the leaders came forward, a sad and heavy look on his face. “Agent De Farrago,” he said.
“Minister Miliband,” she said. “You got the short straw, sir?”
“I was about all that was left, sadly. We’re going to see something new; not quite the UN, something… well, we’re still working it out. Britain’s going to need a seat at the table. I hope I can count on your support.”
“As long as I don’t have to get my fingernails broken, sir, then yes.”
“Wonderful.”
The Secretary-General came up to Mary Ramna. “Doctor Ranma,” he said.
“Yes sir,” Mary replied.
“We’re going to be putting together a new world agency dedicated to dealing with the aftermath of the alien invasion. Health issues, biological impacts, environmental problems. It seems that you would have a unique perspective on that.”
“Oh, me? Thank you, sir!”
General Graves quietly pulled Hadrian aside from the group. “Well, Marine, no need for sappy stories here, right?”
“Sir,” Hadrian replied.
“We’re going to need good men, going forward. And damned if we aren’t going to have to redo our entire war manual. I need a man who can coordinate between these here alien experts and our boots on the ground.” Hadrian only nodded, so the general continued, “We’ve got a big job left ahead of us, as you know. So, Marine, can Uncle Sam count on you?”
“I’m not really a desk jockey, sir,” Hadrian offered cautiously.
Graves laughed. “Desk jockey? Hell, son, you’re going to be my man on the front lines! Unless you think that those Frenchies and Red Chinese are just going to clap their hands and say all’s forgiven?”
“I see,” Hadrian said.
“And I’ll be that there’s still an alien or two out there waiting to be found. You’re going to train our boys to deal with them.”
“Wherever the Corps sends me, I’ll go, sir.”
Graves shook his hand. “That’s what I wanted to hear, son.”
“Semper Fi,” Hadrian said.
Jane turned around as Vala Night came up behind her. “So, Jane. Seems you might be out of a job soon. I happen to know some people who are very interested in someone with a can-do attitude, and a creative approach to problem solving. And governments can’t solve every problem, of course.”
Agent Drake walked up next to her sister; that close, the familiar similarity was evident. “If you would prefer to stay with the United States government, miss Swift, we’d be glad to have you as well.”
“Bah,” Vala said. “Those starched suits are no fun. My organization pays well, and you get to do a lot of good.”
“You may not like me,” Drake said, “but don’t turn down a chance to help a lot of people. We could use someone with your expertise.”
“Who said I don’t like you, Inise,” Jane said, with a smile. “I’ll talk to you later, both of you.”
Both women nodded, sharing a quick and not entirely friendly look at the identical gesture. But they withdrew, talking in low voices.
Vasily watched each of the side conversations. When his turn came, and he heard the voice clear behind him, he turned to see Michael Garret standing there, dressed in the same eternal black suit. “Vasily.”
“Director.”
“You know, this has been an… interesting… few months.”
Vasily nodded in wry agreement.
“But I think I’m done. I’m resigning as head of X-COM.”
The others had turned to listen. “Oh, sorry to hear,” Vasily said.
“You… all of you… you’ll continue to be a part of our organization, even as you go on to new opportunities. But we’ll need someone to take up the reins. X-COM needs to continue to exist. If only to keep planning ahead. We need a man who can lead. A man who can do things… unconventionally, at times.”
“Who can snore boldly where no one has snored before,” Catalina said.
Neither Garret nor Vasily betrayed any reaction at the comment. “In short, Vasily, it’s your job, if you want it,” Garret said.
“Go for it, Vas, they need someone with an arse that looks as good in a pair of combats as yours does,” Catalina said.
“Vas, you are the man for this!” James added.
“Hah. Well,” the Russian said. “We see how that go. Okay.”
“Vasily the head of X-COM?” Mary said. “Oh no, more pushups, more crunches. Please let me go home now.”
They all laughed, and kept smiling as the President spoke up. “We’ve all come a long way,” he said. “The world has changed, no doubt about it. We can no longer be secure in our uniqueness. We are part of a universe that has just gotten a lot larger.”
He met each of their eyes in turn as he continued, “We survived this round, but we’re going to have to face the unknown, and a future where old assumptions may no longer apply. But with people like those gathered here, I know we will face it successfully. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day. We cannot afford to be divided any longer. But let for now, let us enjoy the victory that X-COM, and Alpha Team, has brought for us.”
The applause was thunderous, and for a moment the Alphas just stood there and experienced it. They each knew that Obama had been right, that the road ahead would be a difficult one for them, and for Earth. But as they stood there under the bright sunlight and the open skies above, they knew that the future at least offered hope.
Today's post covers the end of the last session, when the group returned to Earth after the Mars mission. Friday I'm going to post the players' own end-of-campaign aftermath posts, and then I'll have a short epilogue for next Monday.
I'll also post some more on what I'm working on in my other fiction. I have two novels and a novella posted now, and should have a few more things coming out in the near future.
* * * * *
Session 30 (November 24, 2008)
Chapter 144
Thirty days after blasting off from Cydonia, the Avenger descended from orbit around the Earth, entering the atmosphere of the blue planet. With the spacecraft low on fuel, Ken took them in on a straightforward descent, the ship streaking through the atmosphere over the northern Pacific, coming down toward the west coast of the United States. They’d been sent coordinates for landing, not at HQX, but at San Francisco.
“Looks like we’ve got a bit of a welcoming committee,” Ken said, as he guided the Avenger to a landing site located within the Presidio. A series of white temporary buildings had been erected there, and as the ship landed in their midst, settling onto a pad of reinforced concrete, mechanical arms extended a plastic tarp over the entire site.
The hatch opened to reveal a familiar face, if one obscured within the transparent hood of a biological containment suit. “Well, look who’s back!” Grace said. “I know you’re eager to be out and about, but we’ve got decontamination set up for you first. After that, I think there’s some other folks who want to talk to you.”
“Lead the way,” Catalina said.
The decontamination process was through but quick, taking less than an hour altogether. They were given fresh clothes, and were directed by armed security personnel to a door that led to a grassy park, an open space surrounded by low buildings, with the towering majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge visible in the background. Hundreds of people were visible, and they broke into applause as the Alphas appeared. The ground rose into a low hill opposite them, where a footpath turned into a stone staircase that led up to a paved area above. A number of people were waiting for them there, but before they could head in that direction, three people stepped forward to greet them.
“I suppose we should get our chance to congratulate the heroes, while we still can,” Doctor Wagner said.
“Yes, I suppose there will be a line, shortly,” Joan Beauvais agreed.
“You guys did it too,” James said, once they had exchanged hugs and tears. “You made this possible.”
“Good job, team,” Chief Hallorand said, with a grin. He glanced over his shoulder up the hill. “I guess you’d better not keep them waiting.”
They headed out on the path. Most of the crowd gave them space, but the applause only intensified. A few familiar faces were visible as they made their way across the lawn. Catalina stopped before one of them.
“Hey there, Cat,” Jürgen Ritter said.
Catalina reached up to pat his cheek, and gave him a brief kiss. “They didn’t go for nothing,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes wet.
Jane spotted someone else they knew. “Hey, Vala, good to see you made it,” she said.
The agent’s smile was wry. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a limp.” She blinked in surprise as Jane hugged her, then laughed and returned the gesture.
Another familiar face was waiting for them at the base of the steps. Agent Drake’s lips tightened as she regarded the Alphas. “Well. I suppose you did it, after all.”
“You told us to, remember?” Vasily said. Jane hugged her as well, but the most she got out of Drake was a slight grimace that might have been something close to a smile.
“Who’re the nobs?” Catalina asked, looking up at the people gathered along the paved area at the top of the steps. Several stood apart from the rest, waiting patiently for them to approach.
“Hey, is that the American president over there?” Mary asked.
They made their way up the steps, facing the VIPs, who were arranged in a rough half-circle facing them. This close they were instantly recognizable, as they included several of the most famous leaders of the human race. The noise of the crowd died out as the Alphas reached the top of the steps, and one of the waiting leaders stepped forward to address them, and those gathered.
“Members of X-COM,” President Barack Obama said, “On behalf of the people of Earth, we owe you a debt of gratitude that we can never repay.”
There was a surge of applause and cheering at that, which the President let continue for a few moments, before he raised a hand. Again the din silenced, and he continued, “We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us, to be sure. We’ve got to rebuild our cities.”
Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon added, “If there’s one thing this attack has done for us, it has united us as one people, one race. The human race.”
Obama nodded in agreement. “Yes. Together, we will rebuild our shattered planet.”
“Except for the French,” James added, under his voice.
General Graves, standing in the front rank of dignitaries, echoed the doctor’s comment, shouting, “Yeah, and if those Chinese and Frenchies don’t like it, well, we’ve got the Elerium!”
The Secretary-General rubbed his forehead. “Ah… yes.”
President Obama came forward and shook the hands of each of the Alphas in turn. “Good work,” he said, as he took James’s hand, at the end of the line.
“Thank you, mister President. And keep up your good work.”
“You know,” he said to James, “My surgeon general was in New York when the bombs hit. I’ll be speaking to you, Doctor Allen.”
“I’ll look forward to that conversation, mister President. Medicine is going to be revolutionized by the alien advances.”
Another of the leaders came forward, a sad and heavy look on his face. “Agent De Farrago,” he said.
“Minister Miliband,” she said. “You got the short straw, sir?”
“I was about all that was left, sadly. We’re going to see something new; not quite the UN, something… well, we’re still working it out. Britain’s going to need a seat at the table. I hope I can count on your support.”
“As long as I don’t have to get my fingernails broken, sir, then yes.”
“Wonderful.”
The Secretary-General came up to Mary Ramna. “Doctor Ranma,” he said.
“Yes sir,” Mary replied.
“We’re going to be putting together a new world agency dedicated to dealing with the aftermath of the alien invasion. Health issues, biological impacts, environmental problems. It seems that you would have a unique perspective on that.”
“Oh, me? Thank you, sir!”
General Graves quietly pulled Hadrian aside from the group. “Well, Marine, no need for sappy stories here, right?”
“Sir,” Hadrian replied.
“We’re going to need good men, going forward. And damned if we aren’t going to have to redo our entire war manual. I need a man who can coordinate between these here alien experts and our boots on the ground.” Hadrian only nodded, so the general continued, “We’ve got a big job left ahead of us, as you know. So, Marine, can Uncle Sam count on you?”
“I’m not really a desk jockey, sir,” Hadrian offered cautiously.
Graves laughed. “Desk jockey? Hell, son, you’re going to be my man on the front lines! Unless you think that those Frenchies and Red Chinese are just going to clap their hands and say all’s forgiven?”
“I see,” Hadrian said.
“And I’ll be that there’s still an alien or two out there waiting to be found. You’re going to train our boys to deal with them.”
“Wherever the Corps sends me, I’ll go, sir.”
Graves shook his hand. “That’s what I wanted to hear, son.”
“Semper Fi,” Hadrian said.
Jane turned around as Vala Night came up behind her. “So, Jane. Seems you might be out of a job soon. I happen to know some people who are very interested in someone with a can-do attitude, and a creative approach to problem solving. And governments can’t solve every problem, of course.”
Agent Drake walked up next to her sister; that close, the familiar similarity was evident. “If you would prefer to stay with the United States government, miss Swift, we’d be glad to have you as well.”
“Bah,” Vala said. “Those starched suits are no fun. My organization pays well, and you get to do a lot of good.”
“You may not like me,” Drake said, “but don’t turn down a chance to help a lot of people. We could use someone with your expertise.”
“Who said I don’t like you, Inise,” Jane said, with a smile. “I’ll talk to you later, both of you.”
Both women nodded, sharing a quick and not entirely friendly look at the identical gesture. But they withdrew, talking in low voices.
Vasily watched each of the side conversations. When his turn came, and he heard the voice clear behind him, he turned to see Michael Garret standing there, dressed in the same eternal black suit. “Vasily.”
“Director.”
“You know, this has been an… interesting… few months.”
Vasily nodded in wry agreement.
“But I think I’m done. I’m resigning as head of X-COM.”
The others had turned to listen. “Oh, sorry to hear,” Vasily said.
“You… all of you… you’ll continue to be a part of our organization, even as you go on to new opportunities. But we’ll need someone to take up the reins. X-COM needs to continue to exist. If only to keep planning ahead. We need a man who can lead. A man who can do things… unconventionally, at times.”
“Who can snore boldly where no one has snored before,” Catalina said.
Neither Garret nor Vasily betrayed any reaction at the comment. “In short, Vasily, it’s your job, if you want it,” Garret said.
“Go for it, Vas, they need someone with an arse that looks as good in a pair of combats as yours does,” Catalina said.
“Vas, you are the man for this!” James added.
“Hah. Well,” the Russian said. “We see how that go. Okay.”
“Vasily the head of X-COM?” Mary said. “Oh no, more pushups, more crunches. Please let me go home now.”
They all laughed, and kept smiling as the President spoke up. “We’ve all come a long way,” he said. “The world has changed, no doubt about it. We can no longer be secure in our uniqueness. We are part of a universe that has just gotten a lot larger.”
He met each of their eyes in turn as he continued, “We survived this round, but we’re going to have to face the unknown, and a future where old assumptions may no longer apply. But with people like those gathered here, I know we will face it successfully. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day. We cannot afford to be divided any longer. But let for now, let us enjoy the victory that X-COM, and Alpha Team, has brought for us.”
The applause was thunderous, and for a moment the Alphas just stood there and experienced it. They each knew that Obama had been right, that the road ahead would be a difficult one for them, and for Earth. But as they stood there under the bright sunlight and the open skies above, they knew that the future at least offered hope.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Aftermath (November 25, 2008)
Note: the following are the aftermath posts created by the players. I made only a few small edits for grammar/formatting.
JANE
As everyone left for their victory dinner, their exciting new careers, and then to lead the way in rebuilding a brave new world... Jane received a phone call. She did not see the blow to the back of the head as she took the call in the other area. Nor did she know where she was being taken to.
What she could only surmise might be hours later, she groggily gathered her surroundings. She smelled oil and heard engine sounds and felt the slight motion of water, like she was on a freighter at sea or something.
“Ah, you’re awake, Agent Swift,” came a voice with a Chinese accent. That answered the next question. “I suppose you’re wondering why we went to this much trouble?”
Jane laughed at him, “You’ll get nothing from me.”
The man looked at her seriously, “You set off a nuclear device in our country killing five thousand, two hundred and thirty six people. We’re going to kill you that many times and bring you back to life. I’m told the experience will probably drive you insane.” He turned to some men bringing equipment into the room, and said, “Let’s get started.”
(Note: Jane’s player was leaving our campaign group at this point, and decided to post a dark ending for her character)
JAMES
President Obama's voice came clearly over the communicator. "Jim, I'd like to offer you the position of Surgeon General, pending Senate confirmation after Miriam's resignation takes effect. I know firsthand your expertise in the area of the new alien medical advances will come in very handy as we figure out how to help Americans without tipping Medicare and Medicaid completely over the edge."
"Mr. President, I'm honored to be asked to serve in this capacity. Will I be involved in the formulation of the overall health care policy program?"
There was a bit of static as the President replied, "Not only will you be involved, Jim, but I expect you will be a key architect. As you know, Hillary is very interested in this area as well, but given her responsibilities over at State, well, I don't think she'll have much time to focus on this very important area."
"Thanks again for the confidence, Mr. President. I do need to think about it; all I've done for the past several months is remain holed up at the X-Com base. How should I be in touch?"
"Jim, I'm going to put Rahm on the phone, and he'll work out logistics with you and respond to any more questions. We will need to get some information for the confirmation process. I'm hoping I can count on you - we have a lot of work to do to improve America's health care, and I'm confident you are the one to lead the effort."
VASILY
There was a party. Nothing in the history of human civilization deserved a party more, maybe.
It came after the eight team members on board Avenger-1 had the chance to get a much-needed shower, a few breaths of fresh air, and after a short but loud press conference and and a very welcome, non-pea-based dinner reception. Considering the security laid down by SWAT and the dark-suited agents entrusted with the safety of the various representatives of national governments, it was odd to reflect that Alpha Team were some of the few people attending who weren't carrying any weapons. It made a refreshing change.
At some time during his shower, the Federalnaya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti had finally dropped him a line, the first since his arrival in America. He'd caught up with some of the news reports around the globe, and had scoffed amusedly at RTVi's enthusiastic but fact-light furor over the 'Russian-led' special forces team that had secured Earth's future. Even so, the FSB's line didn't entirely surprise him. Good to hear on successful assignment, hero of the Federation... glorious retirement offered, with a teaching post at a military college or training center of his choice. The grim memory of storming a base in the Urals and gunning down his fellow countrymen hadn't faded yet; not for him, and, apparently, not for the officers among the spetznaz. OSNAZ had no place for heroes, especially those who broke ranks.
He'd sent back the politest 'screw you' he could manage, just before dessert. He'd protect the motherland in his own way from now on.
The satisfaction he got from that still hadn't left him by the time the party rolled around... or maybe that was just the kind of natural high you had from watching people enjoy themselves. It had been a long time. He didn't catch a glimpse of Hadrian or Jane - perhaps they were talking to their respective superiors, or he simply couldn't see them in the press of the crowd - but he could see Mary hanging near the President's table, James at the bar telling a story to some admiring folks, Catalina cutting up the dance floor... it made a great picture, and he felt good about it. Maybe it wasn't quite his scene, but it was good, even if he felt most comfortable standing and watching.
For a moment, one melancholy moment, those faces he knew he wouldn't see here hung at the edge of his thoughts. The nameless workers, soldiers and others he'd not really paid attention to, sure, but mainly the dead; those he'd known, and those he hadn't. There'd been no time to introspect at the height of the conflict, but now... now, they all deserved a thought, at least one thought. He hoped that even if X-COM's actions couldn't give the Alien War meaning, they could at least give it closure, and that it would satisfy. He knocked his drink back in a silent toast, and stared at the far wall across the heads of the crowd.
"So. Director, eh?" queried a voice at his elbow, breaking his reverie. He gave an affirmative grunt as Agent Drake - Inise, even - took up position at his side.
She looked a little out of place, wearing the same dark suit as the other Presidential agents in the room, but then she had an excuse; she was working, not partying, and in that capacity it was hard not to think of her as anyone else but Agent Drake. Still, she had a drink in her hand - a fruit juice, most like - as a small concession to the party atmosphere.
They stood there, for a few moments. She wasn't looking at him; no, she watched the crowd, standing at the edge, her eyes picking out faces, much as he had done - much as he was doing, in fact. He bobbed his head in time with the music, a little self-consciously. She drummed her fingers on the side of her glass, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
"How was—"
"You think—"
The two lines of conversation smacked into each other like a countermarch gone wrong, and the confusion that followed them stifled any others that came to mind. After a few anticlimactic moments, she gave a quiet, barely-audible sigh, drained her own glass and gave him a simple nod. "I'll see you later," she shrugged, making to fade back into the background.
"Hey!" he called out, on impulse. She half-turned, watching him almost warily.
Ah, what the hell. The consequences couldn't possibly be any worse than an alien invasion, and he'd already lived through that.
"I know we all really busy, but you think you can get any free time next week?"
That earned him a raised eyebrow, and another few moments of her attention as she mulled his words over.
"I'll call you," she promised at last, giving him the ghost of a smile before disappearing into the throng.
Well, that was something.
He gave his empty glass a smirk, nodding to himself, drifting from what had been done to what he had yet to do. Given the political situation, the humanitarian situation, the intergalactic situation, the scarcity of Elerium on Earth, the heavy load of work and responsibility that was likely waiting for him in Garret's former office and the nagging, paranoid feeling that in some way, this wasn't the end... he had a feeling there wasn't a soul that didn't understand that a guy, even a soldier or an official or a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, had to make his own good times where he could.
HADRIAN
Hadrian hated formal receptions. They were usually filled with people he didn't know, or want to know, trying to chat him up about things they were totally clueless about and wouldn't understand, even if he did answer them directly. Of course, given the hosts, he couldn't blow it off, so he dutifully showed up in his dress blues and smiled politely as he parried the shower of inane comments and questions from the hordes before dinner. He caught occasional glimpses of the other team members through the crowd, and they seemed, likewise, fully engaged by well wishers and glad handlers. He sat through the speeches during dinner, lost in his own thoughts and plans about his coming assignment. As soon as the last speaker sat down and the dancing and mingling took over, Hadrian slipped away and walked briskly back to X-COM central.
Though the brass was partying that night, it was business as usual and the night shift staff of techs and non-com's were hard at it. Some of them took double-takes and joked on seeing him decked out in his blues and ribbons. Ignoring the banter, he made his way back to the barracks, changed back into his fatigues, and carefully stashed his blues into a garment bag hanging in his locker. Next, he strolled over to the mess hall, grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and a pizza, and parked himself at a corner table to enjoy his own private banquet.
Over his dinner, he flipped open his xPhone and dictated three emails. The first went to Director of X-COM, a smile flickered that was Vas now, formally giving notice of his return to duty with the Corps and outlining some ideas for cross-training and seconding of Corps personnel to X-COM. The second one he cc'ed to his fellow Alpha Team members thanking them for their work, wishing them well in their next assignment and leaving them a personal contact number, should they need to get a hold of him for any reason. The last went to General Graves containing a list of men he wanted for his program, a brief schedule of training seminars and exercises, and notice he was taking thirty days of his accumulated leave, starting at midnight, before formally taking up his new post.
The meal and messages finished, Hadrian ambled back to the barracks. He cleaned out his locker and foot locker, easily fitting his few personal things and uniforms into his duffle bag. Turning his attention to his X-COM gear, he carefully stripped, cleaned and reassembled each of his issued weapons and armor. Leaving his bag on his bunk, he hauled his X-COM equipment back to the quartermaster and checked everything back in. Next, he stopped at the OOD and requested private air transport in an hour to Denver. There was some grumbling, but given his status, it was promptly arranged.
Collecting his bags, Hadrian settled into a stuffed chair in the lounge to await his flight. He slowly flipped open his xPhone and dialed in a number from memory. After a couple of rings a gruff voice answered.
“Jones residence.”
Hadrian paused slightly before responding.
“Good evening sir, this is Hadrian. I'll be flying into Denver in a couple of hours.”
After a brief delay the other voice responded.
“Very well, we'll be expecting you.”
There was a click.
Hadrian closed the call window and clicked open his Clauswitz's On War and settled down to wait.
CATALINA
“Special Forces Officer Saves The Planet.” Catalina read out loud the front page headline from the Daily Mail to the smiling receptionist behind the desk in the waiting area. “A little more interesting than ‘Threat Of Invasion Thwarted’ from the Times, don‘t you think? I rather like this one though.” She picked up the copy of the Sun with the front page declaring “Cat Scratches Aliens,” accompanied by the same pictures from the press conference and of her in full uniform taken at the graduation from Sandhurst presented by the other newspapers, but they had also obtained a second one of her rather scantily dressed in a cat costume. “So, boys, you've got a lot to do to impress this alien-busting beauty if you want her to check out your emerging threat,” she said, quoting herself from the article, and looked up as the receptionist’s intercom buzzed.
“The country needs a hero right now,” the Prime Minister’s secretary had told her, in response to a quiet question concerning public profile during a hastily snatched briefing, then proceeded to outline the cover story of her involvement as a Special Forces Systems Expert, playing on her former education. So she had revelled in the limelight at the press conference, then basked in the attention late, danced the night away at the party, and at one point or another dragged just about every male X-COM member onto the floor, including a reluctant Vasily and a much less hesitant James. The following morning saw her packing her things and hastening to fulfill the final part of her orders: report to GCHQ in Cheltenham, the temporary home of SIS, for a full debriefing and new orders.
Making her general goodbyes as swiftly as possible to the team in general, with several repetitions of a “No peace for the wicked” answer to questions over the hasty departure, Catalina sought out the members of Alpha team. Fairly emotional exchanges of contact details and farewells took place with James and Mary, and she left instructions to pass on best wishes to Jane with Mary. A more restrained, but no less intense, exchange took place with Vasily during which formal contact information was established. She finally left the base at midday, on the first stage of her journey home to England. A bare forty-eight hours from landing in California saw Catalina in front of the Director of SIS with her report on his desk.
Catalina sat quietly as he leafed through the pages and then looked up at her impassively. “Quite a challenging mission, it seems, and satisfying result all round.”
“Yes, sir,” came her respectful reply. The Prime Minister had been one thing, but this was C.
“Mister Milliband wants a foot in the camp. We’ve given some thought to the rank that should be assigned to this and reached the conclusion that it should be above your current level.”
Catalina’s twitched imperceptibly at the words but she answered evenly, “That’s probably correct, sir.”
The Director’s expression didn’t change. “Hence I think promotion to Senior Operational Officer is probably called for, given the circumstances, Agent De Farrago.”
Stamping down on any open expression of elation, Catalina answered in similarly even tones. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m told some form of public ceremony and honours award from His Majesty is pending. The most will need to be made from this in the interest of morale, but we still have some tidying up to do. The Commission is keen that we keep this as ‘in house’ as possible. Your current exposure is a complication, but nothing we haven’t overcome previously.” The Director closed the report and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “France awaits you, Agent, dismissed.”
Note: the following are the aftermath posts created by the players. I made only a few small edits for grammar/formatting.
JANE
As everyone left for their victory dinner, their exciting new careers, and then to lead the way in rebuilding a brave new world... Jane received a phone call. She did not see the blow to the back of the head as she took the call in the other area. Nor did she know where she was being taken to.
What she could only surmise might be hours later, she groggily gathered her surroundings. She smelled oil and heard engine sounds and felt the slight motion of water, like she was on a freighter at sea or something.
“Ah, you’re awake, Agent Swift,” came a voice with a Chinese accent. That answered the next question. “I suppose you’re wondering why we went to this much trouble?”
Jane laughed at him, “You’ll get nothing from me.”
The man looked at her seriously, “You set off a nuclear device in our country killing five thousand, two hundred and thirty six people. We’re going to kill you that many times and bring you back to life. I’m told the experience will probably drive you insane.” He turned to some men bringing equipment into the room, and said, “Let’s get started.”
(Note: Jane’s player was leaving our campaign group at this point, and decided to post a dark ending for her character)
JAMES
President Obama's voice came clearly over the communicator. "Jim, I'd like to offer you the position of Surgeon General, pending Senate confirmation after Miriam's resignation takes effect. I know firsthand your expertise in the area of the new alien medical advances will come in very handy as we figure out how to help Americans without tipping Medicare and Medicaid completely over the edge."
"Mr. President, I'm honored to be asked to serve in this capacity. Will I be involved in the formulation of the overall health care policy program?"
There was a bit of static as the President replied, "Not only will you be involved, Jim, but I expect you will be a key architect. As you know, Hillary is very interested in this area as well, but given her responsibilities over at State, well, I don't think she'll have much time to focus on this very important area."
"Thanks again for the confidence, Mr. President. I do need to think about it; all I've done for the past several months is remain holed up at the X-Com base. How should I be in touch?"
"Jim, I'm going to put Rahm on the phone, and he'll work out logistics with you and respond to any more questions. We will need to get some information for the confirmation process. I'm hoping I can count on you - we have a lot of work to do to improve America's health care, and I'm confident you are the one to lead the effort."
VASILY
There was a party. Nothing in the history of human civilization deserved a party more, maybe.
It came after the eight team members on board Avenger-1 had the chance to get a much-needed shower, a few breaths of fresh air, and after a short but loud press conference and and a very welcome, non-pea-based dinner reception. Considering the security laid down by SWAT and the dark-suited agents entrusted with the safety of the various representatives of national governments, it was odd to reflect that Alpha Team were some of the few people attending who weren't carrying any weapons. It made a refreshing change.
At some time during his shower, the Federalnaya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti had finally dropped him a line, the first since his arrival in America. He'd caught up with some of the news reports around the globe, and had scoffed amusedly at RTVi's enthusiastic but fact-light furor over the 'Russian-led' special forces team that had secured Earth's future. Even so, the FSB's line didn't entirely surprise him. Good to hear on successful assignment, hero of the Federation... glorious retirement offered, with a teaching post at a military college or training center of his choice. The grim memory of storming a base in the Urals and gunning down his fellow countrymen hadn't faded yet; not for him, and, apparently, not for the officers among the spetznaz. OSNAZ had no place for heroes, especially those who broke ranks.
He'd sent back the politest 'screw you' he could manage, just before dessert. He'd protect the motherland in his own way from now on.
The satisfaction he got from that still hadn't left him by the time the party rolled around... or maybe that was just the kind of natural high you had from watching people enjoy themselves. It had been a long time. He didn't catch a glimpse of Hadrian or Jane - perhaps they were talking to their respective superiors, or he simply couldn't see them in the press of the crowd - but he could see Mary hanging near the President's table, James at the bar telling a story to some admiring folks, Catalina cutting up the dance floor... it made a great picture, and he felt good about it. Maybe it wasn't quite his scene, but it was good, even if he felt most comfortable standing and watching.
For a moment, one melancholy moment, those faces he knew he wouldn't see here hung at the edge of his thoughts. The nameless workers, soldiers and others he'd not really paid attention to, sure, but mainly the dead; those he'd known, and those he hadn't. There'd been no time to introspect at the height of the conflict, but now... now, they all deserved a thought, at least one thought. He hoped that even if X-COM's actions couldn't give the Alien War meaning, they could at least give it closure, and that it would satisfy. He knocked his drink back in a silent toast, and stared at the far wall across the heads of the crowd.
"So. Director, eh?" queried a voice at his elbow, breaking his reverie. He gave an affirmative grunt as Agent Drake - Inise, even - took up position at his side.
She looked a little out of place, wearing the same dark suit as the other Presidential agents in the room, but then she had an excuse; she was working, not partying, and in that capacity it was hard not to think of her as anyone else but Agent Drake. Still, she had a drink in her hand - a fruit juice, most like - as a small concession to the party atmosphere.
They stood there, for a few moments. She wasn't looking at him; no, she watched the crowd, standing at the edge, her eyes picking out faces, much as he had done - much as he was doing, in fact. He bobbed his head in time with the music, a little self-consciously. She drummed her fingers on the side of her glass, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
"How was—"
"You think—"
The two lines of conversation smacked into each other like a countermarch gone wrong, and the confusion that followed them stifled any others that came to mind. After a few anticlimactic moments, she gave a quiet, barely-audible sigh, drained her own glass and gave him a simple nod. "I'll see you later," she shrugged, making to fade back into the background.
"Hey!" he called out, on impulse. She half-turned, watching him almost warily.
Ah, what the hell. The consequences couldn't possibly be any worse than an alien invasion, and he'd already lived through that.
"I know we all really busy, but you think you can get any free time next week?"
That earned him a raised eyebrow, and another few moments of her attention as she mulled his words over.
"I'll call you," she promised at last, giving him the ghost of a smile before disappearing into the throng.
Well, that was something.
He gave his empty glass a smirk, nodding to himself, drifting from what had been done to what he had yet to do. Given the political situation, the humanitarian situation, the intergalactic situation, the scarcity of Elerium on Earth, the heavy load of work and responsibility that was likely waiting for him in Garret's former office and the nagging, paranoid feeling that in some way, this wasn't the end... he had a feeling there wasn't a soul that didn't understand that a guy, even a soldier or an official or a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, had to make his own good times where he could.
HADRIAN
Hadrian hated formal receptions. They were usually filled with people he didn't know, or want to know, trying to chat him up about things they were totally clueless about and wouldn't understand, even if he did answer them directly. Of course, given the hosts, he couldn't blow it off, so he dutifully showed up in his dress blues and smiled politely as he parried the shower of inane comments and questions from the hordes before dinner. He caught occasional glimpses of the other team members through the crowd, and they seemed, likewise, fully engaged by well wishers and glad handlers. He sat through the speeches during dinner, lost in his own thoughts and plans about his coming assignment. As soon as the last speaker sat down and the dancing and mingling took over, Hadrian slipped away and walked briskly back to X-COM central.
Though the brass was partying that night, it was business as usual and the night shift staff of techs and non-com's were hard at it. Some of them took double-takes and joked on seeing him decked out in his blues and ribbons. Ignoring the banter, he made his way back to the barracks, changed back into his fatigues, and carefully stashed his blues into a garment bag hanging in his locker. Next, he strolled over to the mess hall, grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and a pizza, and parked himself at a corner table to enjoy his own private banquet.
Over his dinner, he flipped open his xPhone and dictated three emails. The first went to Director of X-COM, a smile flickered that was Vas now, formally giving notice of his return to duty with the Corps and outlining some ideas for cross-training and seconding of Corps personnel to X-COM. The second one he cc'ed to his fellow Alpha Team members thanking them for their work, wishing them well in their next assignment and leaving them a personal contact number, should they need to get a hold of him for any reason. The last went to General Graves containing a list of men he wanted for his program, a brief schedule of training seminars and exercises, and notice he was taking thirty days of his accumulated leave, starting at midnight, before formally taking up his new post.
The meal and messages finished, Hadrian ambled back to the barracks. He cleaned out his locker and foot locker, easily fitting his few personal things and uniforms into his duffle bag. Turning his attention to his X-COM gear, he carefully stripped, cleaned and reassembled each of his issued weapons and armor. Leaving his bag on his bunk, he hauled his X-COM equipment back to the quartermaster and checked everything back in. Next, he stopped at the OOD and requested private air transport in an hour to Denver. There was some grumbling, but given his status, it was promptly arranged.
Collecting his bags, Hadrian settled into a stuffed chair in the lounge to await his flight. He slowly flipped open his xPhone and dialed in a number from memory. After a couple of rings a gruff voice answered.
“Jones residence.”
Hadrian paused slightly before responding.
“Good evening sir, this is Hadrian. I'll be flying into Denver in a couple of hours.”
After a brief delay the other voice responded.
“Very well, we'll be expecting you.”
There was a click.
Hadrian closed the call window and clicked open his Clauswitz's On War and settled down to wait.
CATALINA
“Special Forces Officer Saves The Planet.” Catalina read out loud the front page headline from the Daily Mail to the smiling receptionist behind the desk in the waiting area. “A little more interesting than ‘Threat Of Invasion Thwarted’ from the Times, don‘t you think? I rather like this one though.” She picked up the copy of the Sun with the front page declaring “Cat Scratches Aliens,” accompanied by the same pictures from the press conference and of her in full uniform taken at the graduation from Sandhurst presented by the other newspapers, but they had also obtained a second one of her rather scantily dressed in a cat costume. “So, boys, you've got a lot to do to impress this alien-busting beauty if you want her to check out your emerging threat,” she said, quoting herself from the article, and looked up as the receptionist’s intercom buzzed.
“The country needs a hero right now,” the Prime Minister’s secretary had told her, in response to a quiet question concerning public profile during a hastily snatched briefing, then proceeded to outline the cover story of her involvement as a Special Forces Systems Expert, playing on her former education. So she had revelled in the limelight at the press conference, then basked in the attention late, danced the night away at the party, and at one point or another dragged just about every male X-COM member onto the floor, including a reluctant Vasily and a much less hesitant James. The following morning saw her packing her things and hastening to fulfill the final part of her orders: report to GCHQ in Cheltenham, the temporary home of SIS, for a full debriefing and new orders.
Making her general goodbyes as swiftly as possible to the team in general, with several repetitions of a “No peace for the wicked” answer to questions over the hasty departure, Catalina sought out the members of Alpha team. Fairly emotional exchanges of contact details and farewells took place with James and Mary, and she left instructions to pass on best wishes to Jane with Mary. A more restrained, but no less intense, exchange took place with Vasily during which formal contact information was established. She finally left the base at midday, on the first stage of her journey home to England. A bare forty-eight hours from landing in California saw Catalina in front of the Director of SIS with her report on his desk.
Catalina sat quietly as he leafed through the pages and then looked up at her impassively. “Quite a challenging mission, it seems, and satisfying result all round.”
“Yes, sir,” came her respectful reply. The Prime Minister had been one thing, but this was C.
“Mister Milliband wants a foot in the camp. We’ve given some thought to the rank that should be assigned to this and reached the conclusion that it should be above your current level.”
Catalina’s twitched imperceptibly at the words but she answered evenly, “That’s probably correct, sir.”
The Director’s expression didn’t change. “Hence I think promotion to Senior Operational Officer is probably called for, given the circumstances, Agent De Farrago.”
Stamping down on any open expression of elation, Catalina answered in similarly even tones. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m told some form of public ceremony and honours award from His Majesty is pending. The most will need to be made from this in the interest of morale, but we still have some tidying up to do. The Commission is keen that we keep this as ‘in house’ as possible. Your current exposure is a complication, but nothing we haven’t overcome previously.” The Director closed the report and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “France awaits you, Agent, dismissed.”
Awesome LB. 
Really evocative of a game that left my heart pounding from adrennalin almost weekly, while howling with laughter at some comment or situation, or left almost shocked at a sudden dire turn of events.
It was fantastic to play in the sessions, and real treat to see the content of what was an amazing campaign fleshed out for reading this way. On top of which a real privelage to my humble RPing of a PC immortalised in this fashion. A big thanks all round.
Really evocative of a game that left my heart pounding from adrennalin almost weekly, while howling with laughter at some comment or situation, or left almost shocked at a sudden dire turn of events.
It was fantastic to play in the sessions, and real treat to see the content of what was an amazing campaign fleshed out for reading this way. On top of which a real privelage to my humble RPing of a PC immortalised in this fashion. A big thanks all round.
Richard Rawen
First Post
A classic, I'm happy to add it to my collection! Make sure you come back to link to any further work, ENW or (hopefully) published.
Thanks once more for all your time and sharing your talent!
Thanks once more for all your time and sharing your talent!
Lazybones
Adventurer
This story was a lot of fun to write, or I should say, to edit, since my players did the hard work of providing the dialogue. Here's the epilogue I promised:
* * * * *
Epilogue
The command center at the signals monitoring center at the Arecibo Observatory was almost empty; most of the staff was still celebrating in the village at the base of the hill. David Foster was enjoying a first-class sulk, wishing he was down there with them. Angelina was down there, no doubt, fending off the advances of that slick bastard Eduardo, from the NSA’s team. Thus far she’d resisted, but in the general mood of revelry and relief that had followed the successful return of the Mars mission, who knew what could happen?
“It’s not fair,” he said.
“Mm hm,” Gustav Prieto said, without looking up from his comic book.
“I mean, we won the war,” David added. This time Gustav didn’t even bother to respond, and after a moment, David pushed off from his chair and got up.
“I’m going to get a Coke from the machine. Do you want—“
He was interrupted by a ping from his monitoring station. Dropping back into his seat, he swirled his mouse to deactivate his screen saver, and looked at the data scrolling down his screen.
“Getting something,” he said. “That’s odd.”
Gustav Prieto finally lifted his eyes. “That statement is never followed by anything pleasant,” he said. When David didn’t respond, or look up from his screen, the other scientist sighed heavily and got up, moving to where he could look over the other man’s shoulder.
“It’s just background,” he said, after one look at the pattern displayed on the screen.
“No, wait, I think it’s a signal,” David insisted. “Look, the pattern waveform here is way too focused.”
“Point of origin?”
“Can’t tell. The source… it… it’s just there.”
“What do you mean? You can’t even ID the general direction? How can that be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s something different, a tachyon beam, or something.”
Gustav snorted. He started to say, “Science fiction,” but he bit off the words unspoken. Too many things that would have been considered ‘science fiction’ a year ago had become very real.
“Within our solar system, or from outside?” he persisted. “Mars, maybe?”
“I told you, I can’t tell. The signal just appears, I don’t even have anything to base a plot from.”
“Pattern?”
“Computer’s not seeing anything right off. It doesn’t match any of the alien signals in our database.”
“Well, that’s a relief, anyway. What about the target destination?”
David hit some keys, and Gustav shook his head as a new field of data appeared. “No, look. Doesn’t even come close to any land masses. Not a signal, unless somebody’s trying to contact somebody living under the Earth’s oceans. Unless the signal’s a message to the whales, it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” David said, as Gustav went back to his chair and picked up his comic book.
“Nice try, though. Figured if you couldn’t go down to the party, you’d make them come up here, eh?”
“Heh, maybe,” David replied, with a smile. He hit ‘Save’, and then closed the file, and went to get his Coke.
THE END…?
* * * * *
Epilogue
The command center at the signals monitoring center at the Arecibo Observatory was almost empty; most of the staff was still celebrating in the village at the base of the hill. David Foster was enjoying a first-class sulk, wishing he was down there with them. Angelina was down there, no doubt, fending off the advances of that slick bastard Eduardo, from the NSA’s team. Thus far she’d resisted, but in the general mood of revelry and relief that had followed the successful return of the Mars mission, who knew what could happen?
“It’s not fair,” he said.
“Mm hm,” Gustav Prieto said, without looking up from his comic book.
“I mean, we won the war,” David added. This time Gustav didn’t even bother to respond, and after a moment, David pushed off from his chair and got up.
“I’m going to get a Coke from the machine. Do you want—“
He was interrupted by a ping from his monitoring station. Dropping back into his seat, he swirled his mouse to deactivate his screen saver, and looked at the data scrolling down his screen.
“Getting something,” he said. “That’s odd.”
Gustav Prieto finally lifted his eyes. “That statement is never followed by anything pleasant,” he said. When David didn’t respond, or look up from his screen, the other scientist sighed heavily and got up, moving to where he could look over the other man’s shoulder.
“It’s just background,” he said, after one look at the pattern displayed on the screen.
“No, wait, I think it’s a signal,” David insisted. “Look, the pattern waveform here is way too focused.”
“Point of origin?”
“Can’t tell. The source… it… it’s just there.”
“What do you mean? You can’t even ID the general direction? How can that be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s something different, a tachyon beam, or something.”
Gustav snorted. He started to say, “Science fiction,” but he bit off the words unspoken. Too many things that would have been considered ‘science fiction’ a year ago had become very real.
“Within our solar system, or from outside?” he persisted. “Mars, maybe?”
“I told you, I can’t tell. The signal just appears, I don’t even have anything to base a plot from.”
“Pattern?”
“Computer’s not seeing anything right off. It doesn’t match any of the alien signals in our database.”
“Well, that’s a relief, anyway. What about the target destination?”
David hit some keys, and Gustav shook his head as a new field of data appeared. “No, look. Doesn’t even come close to any land masses. Not a signal, unless somebody’s trying to contact somebody living under the Earth’s oceans. Unless the signal’s a message to the whales, it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” David said, as Gustav went back to his chair and picked up his comic book.
“Nice try, though. Figured if you couldn’t go down to the party, you’d make them come up here, eh?”
“Heh, maybe,” David replied, with a smile. He hit ‘Save’, and then closed the file, and went to get his Coke.
THE END…?
Lazybones
Adventurer
Well, it’s finally done.
I started posting stories here at ENWorld in 2001, when I began writing installments for a story that would take a small group of heroes across the length and breadth of Faerun. Now, nine years later, I’ve completed five stories with a combined total of over 2.2 million words. Looking quickly over my threads, I’ve calculated that I’ve gotten more than two thousand reader posts and over 300,000 page views. I have had a lot of readers post support and appreciation, and have had a lot of fun interacting with the community here. I often go back and read the comments on my threads, and appreciate both the support and the constructive criticism that folks have offered.
I’ve learned to never say never, and X-COM did end on a hook for a sequel, but I’m shifting my focus to writing novels for now. Just this weekend I published my third novel on Smashwords.com (Paths of the Chosen), and am about 50,000 words into a fourth. Those two books are part of a planned trilogy that I’m going to post for free (Smashwords has a “pay however much you want” option that I like). If you enjoy them, you’re welcome to send a few bucks my way, or to post a review, but neither is necessary. Once I finish those books, I plan on revisiting the worlds I created in Of Spells and Demons and Heart of a Hero, and see where those stories take me. Finally, I have been rereading and editing my five-book series The Trials of Alderan, which I wrote between 1992 and 2000. As my first works they’re a bit rough, but I may polish them up some and also offer them as free downloads.
Selling novels is a heck of a lot harder than earning views here at ENWorld (and even that isn’t easy, given the quality of the competition), but it’s something I’ve long wanted to try. Even if I only sell 20 copies, at least I can say I’ve gotten my creative work out there.
Thanks again to all my readers, who have read and posted and enjoyed these stories over the years. I would have probably given up on writing fiction altogether if it hadn’t been for your support.
Until next time,
Ken “Lazybones” McDonald
I started posting stories here at ENWorld in 2001, when I began writing installments for a story that would take a small group of heroes across the length and breadth of Faerun. Now, nine years later, I’ve completed five stories with a combined total of over 2.2 million words. Looking quickly over my threads, I’ve calculated that I’ve gotten more than two thousand reader posts and over 300,000 page views. I have had a lot of readers post support and appreciation, and have had a lot of fun interacting with the community here. I often go back and read the comments on my threads, and appreciate both the support and the constructive criticism that folks have offered.
I’ve learned to never say never, and X-COM did end on a hook for a sequel, but I’m shifting my focus to writing novels for now. Just this weekend I published my third novel on Smashwords.com (Paths of the Chosen), and am about 50,000 words into a fourth. Those two books are part of a planned trilogy that I’m going to post for free (Smashwords has a “pay however much you want” option that I like). If you enjoy them, you’re welcome to send a few bucks my way, or to post a review, but neither is necessary. Once I finish those books, I plan on revisiting the worlds I created in Of Spells and Demons and Heart of a Hero, and see where those stories take me. Finally, I have been rereading and editing my five-book series The Trials of Alderan, which I wrote between 1992 and 2000. As my first works they’re a bit rough, but I may polish them up some and also offer them as free downloads.
Selling novels is a heck of a lot harder than earning views here at ENWorld (and even that isn’t easy, given the quality of the competition), but it’s something I’ve long wanted to try. Even if I only sell 20 copies, at least I can say I’ve gotten my creative work out there.
Thanks again to all my readers, who have read and posted and enjoyed these stories over the years. I would have probably given up on writing fiction altogether if it hadn’t been for your support.
Until next time,
Ken “Lazybones” McDonald
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