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Ok, to preface this: this is why I needed that info on Tikonov. Basically, this story was inspired by the Beatles song of the same name, and is also incomplete. There will probably be at least two or three more parts, and I'll try to do one a night to be timely about it...but I can't promise anything. Anyway, enough of my babbling...here's the story:
The revolution ... is a dictatorship of the exploited against the exploiters."
- Fidel Castro
"It's a sad and stupid thing to have to proclaim yourself a revolutionary just to be a decent man."
- David Harris
Tikograd, Tikonov
Federated Commonwealth
5 January 3065
History repeats itself.
Every historian, since man has started becoming so self-absorbed that it feels what it has done before is important, knows that history is a cycle. What seems to be a new chapter is truly only an inevitability. This new chapter is only the next cog on the gear of events, destined to circle back around when the time is right. History records the people who move the cogs forward.
The next cog on Tikonov’s gear is revolution.
Revolution has written itself into history perhaps more often than any other event. Men like George Washington, Vladimir Lenin, Mao Zedong, Ho Chi Minh, Che Guevera, Elias Jung Liao; these men are revolutionaries whose actions have moved not just one cog, but several. Their choices, their decisions echo down the halls of time.
Petr Nevetsky would never be one of those men. If life were but a stage, Petr was an extra. He sat quietly in a booth at the back of the Rusty Cossack, a tiny tavern in suburban Tikograd, sipping on a vodka. After a few minutes, a man in a heavy winter cloak slid into the seat across the table.
“It is very cold out this time of year, no?” asked the cloaked man in Russian. Although he spoke softly, the Asian lilt of his accent marked him as Capellan.
Petr chuckled. “Are you kidding? Here on Tikonov, we go swimming in this kind of weather.”
The Capellan, who had until now seemed tense and ill at ease, slumped his shoulders and relaxed against the booth’s cushions. “You are my contact, then.”
“Da, comrade. You can relax now. Here, have some.” He slid the glass of vodka across the table.
The Capellan pushed it aside with a single gloved hand. “Thank you for the gesture, but I must be brief. Here is the…package...our organization has so graciously donated to yours.” A hand went inside of the cloak, and withdrew a large manila envelope, which Petr immediately took.
“I will take your word, comrade, that the contents of that package are exactly as we asked.”
“The bills are unmarked, if that is what you are asking.”
“Da. I am glad that we have able to complete this…business transaction.”
Petr reached for his vodka, and the Capellan moved to get up from the booth, when all hell broke loose.
A Loyalist officer and a squad of MPs burst through the door, toting heavy rifles and grim faces. Standing amongst them was a trooper wearing a massive Cavalier battlesuit. The officer scanned the tavern for a moment before pointing at Petr and the Capellan.
“Arrest them!”
Immediately, every patron in the bar got up from their seat and either dove to the floor or ran for the exit; simultaneously, the Capellan leapt from the booth sporting a sub-machine gun in each gloved hand.
“Xin Sheng! For the Chancellor!”
Chaos erupted as the fanatical Capellan sprayed bullets at the Loyalist soldiers. Two MPs and a few luckless customers dropped with short screams. The Cavalier took two steps forward, leveled its heavy gyroslug rifle, and fired.
The Capellan’s chest blew apart in an explosion of gore.
Petr was already out the back door, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran down the small alley behind the tavern, snow crunching beneath his feet, his frosted breath blowing clouds of steam across his flushed face. He sprinted out of the alley, around the corner of the building…
…and nearly ran into the Cavalier-suited trooper.
“You are under arrest.”
Petr turned and tried to run. But the Cavalier immediately grabbed his left arm with one steel-gauntleted fist, and wrenched it back so hard it nearly ripped it out of its socket.
Petr screamed and fell to the ground.
“In the name of Archon-Princess Katrina Steiner, I hereby place you under arrest for conspiracy against the state. Please do not attempt to resist or escape. These attempts will end in failure.” He smashed his metal fist into the wall of the building, leaving a small crater in the concrete, for emphasis. “Do you understand what I have just told you?”
“I understand,” said Petr, gritting his teeth, “that you can go to hell!” Then reached into his boot, pulled out a small blade, and launched himself at the Cavalier in one fluid motion.
The Cavalier swatted his head like a fly, and for Petr, everything suddenly went black.
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"I have vanquished you, lizard slavers. And now, behold the pelvic gyrations of my victory boogie."
- Space Ghost
Last edited by Flagg on Tue Aug 17, 2004 8:39 am, edited 2 times in total.
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