Topic: Ghosts of Hyperion  (Read 4559 times)

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Offline Czar Mohab

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Ghosts of Hyperion
« on: July 25, 2007, 11:24:01 pm »
So, I was strolling (scrolling?) through D'net the other day and I found this:
http://www.dynaverse.net/forum/index.php/topic,163365170.0.html

which led me to this:
http://web.archive.org/web/20000815222906/feedback.interplay.com/sfcommand/index.html

with which I was hoping to find the origins of the Hyperion saga, lost for the moment between archive #73 and #75 (they're not archived), such that I could at least explain where "Czar Mohab" came from, along with the Death Giver and others.

When that board shut down, we moved to another and continued the saga... but I don't recall the addy to wayback that one.

And I was going to post some of the "better stuff" so you could get a feel for my past from a fan fic POV, but I don't want to dig through everything. I keep getting "Page not archived" on alot of things anyway. But there is plenty there that works well enough.

Czar "Memories..." Mohab, who notes that Hyperion and her saga should have never died.

P.S. If you do go a-wandering, you'll see where the green comes from.


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Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #1 on: July 27, 2007, 10:38:59 am »
I've already trawled this, and I think I got up from Taldren Fan Fic archive 000001 to 000900 before I quit. I cn stil lgo back and keep going, but I was basically looking for old stories that I did have on a CD I burned, but which has since become corrupted.

I was looking for stuff like Karl Fender's 'Raider' storyline, amongst others, an ongoing story about a Fed DD trapped behind Klingon lines during the SFB General War. Still looking, I think.
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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #2 on: September 09, 2007, 01:59:20 pm »
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'd forgotten all about this. I can't believe I found it. To think of all the good stuff lost forever in cyberspace (which is what I was looking for) that I'd writen, this would be preserved. It was in response to a song Kadh wrote, which, unfortunately, is lost in cyberspace.

*NOTE* for those that don't know the Seltorians, I'll summarize to the best of my memory:
->The Tholians ruled their home galaxy with the 'help' of some minor races, the Seltorians were one of those, chosen as the 'most trusted' race, like a number two race.
->The Seltorians used their trust to the advantage, and designed weapons designed to take down their Tholian oppressors.
->Some Tholians packed up and left for other galaxies, ours being one of them.
->The Seltorians eventually followed, bent on finishing them off. In the end, it was the Klingons who killed the Seltorians.
->With regards to mating, think praying mantis. Males that do not mate get the wonderful tasks of dying a virgin, and living to really old age.

On with the laughter:

Is this the real life?
Is this our Galaxy?
Caught in the middle,
Defending our territory.
We'll open our eyes,
There’s one thing we want to see.

I'm just a poor Selt,
I need no sympathy
Cause I'm short on life,
We're quickly bred
We'll hunt the Thols
'till we're dead
Anywhere the Tholians go
Doesn't really matter to me.
To me....

Mama, Just killed a Thol!
Aimed my cannon at his hull,
Pushed the button, now he's coal!
Mama, my life has just begun,
So why must we mate and throw it all away?
Mama, ooohooohoohoooh,
I don't want to die,
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
Mate with brother, mate with brother,
As if it really matters...
Too late, his time has come...
Sever his little spine,
So I can live to see 179!
Goodbye, silly Tholian! You've got to go!
Gonna kill you all real fast, so face this truth!
Mama, oohooohoooh,
They don't want to die,
I sometimes wish they'd never been born at all!

*Guitar solo*

I see a little silhouette-o of a ship!
Is it Klink? Is it Thol? can they do the saber tango?
Send a bolt of lightning, very very fright'ning for me!
Was it Thol? It was Thol!
Was it Thol? it was Thol!
They were Thol! Magnifico! O! O! Oh, no!
They say they're in control of the Home Galaxy!
Its just a lie cause we run that Galaxy!
Shall we show them the truths of this monstrosity?
Here we come, there they go!
Shall we let them go?
I think not! No, We will not let them go!
Let us go!
I think not! No, We will not let you go!
Let us go!
I think not! No, We will not let you go!
Let us go!
Will not let you go!
Let us go!
Will not let you go!
Never, never, never let you go!
O! O! O! O!
No, No, No, NO NO NO NO!
Oh, Mamamia! Mamamia! Mamamia, let us go!
What heck us Selts have put aside for thee! for thee! for thee!

*Gratuitous Head banging*

So you think you can run from a fight rather than die?
So you think you can kill us? well, give it a try!
Oh, Tholians! Can't do this to us Tholians!
Just gotta get you out, just rid you from this Galaxy!

*another solo*

Ooooh,ooh,oooh,oooh!
Oh, yeah, Oh, yeah!

Doesn't really matter, any one can see, doesn't really matter to kill a Tholian, you see!

Any where the Tholians go...

Czar "I can't believe I wrote that" Mohab

In cyberspace, no one can hear your data scream!
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Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #3 on: September 24, 2007, 11:54:17 am »
Okay, now that was genuinely amusing. Good one, Czar!
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Offline Andromeda

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #4 on: October 02, 2007, 07:59:36 pm »
I might have that song of Kadh's.  I've got  a lot of wierd stuff from the Iplay website.
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Offline KOTH-KieranXC, Ret.

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #5 on: October 02, 2007, 08:56:24 pm »
"Raider"... man, that's a blast from the past. I would love to see a copy of that story find the light once again, and not just 'cause K-Fo had a cameo therein. ;)
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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #6 on: December 10, 2007, 09:19:14 pm »
I know I posted this somewhere in the past. I was fortunate enough to find the document on my external HDD... I didn't do much backing up of files from long ago, so you can imagine my elation over finding this tidbit, just a chance file save that had been carried over from compy to compy. I'll do this as a single post, the original (from when I really sucked at this writing thing) and then the rehash I finished just now, seeing that I don't suck as much. Its not Trek, but it is a Ghost from my past, when I was writing more with the original Hyperion'ers, so I guess it fits here. No comments are required, I just hope that you enjoy. I've found more, saved web pages from no longer living websites, almost lost works, etc. and I'll try to post some of the better ones as I can get to them; XP, Vista and MS Works don't really like the older file formats, so extraction of some will be difficult; however, you'll be treated to some of my crappier works, and some Old Kadh, too, once I can get these unlocked. Hopefully it will lay a better foundation for what I am writing now, so you can see my universe clearer. Until then, enjoy:

Johnny's Christmas (original 2000(?) version)

German Held City, Behind German Lines, November 29, 1944

It was raining again. Not that hard, pounding rain that had been so common in days past, but the light drizzle that would eventually soak one's uniform. Small fires burned relentlessly in a few of the buildings down the street; fires that had been set by the Germans as they retreated to a more stable site up the street. The thunder of gunfire could be made out from the distance. American troops were slowly advancing on the German held positions once again, with the Soviets slowly gaining ground from the other direction.

Sergeant Jonathan Abner huddled quietly in the church as the German troops marched by. To what was left of his platoon, he signaled them to open fire on the passers-by. The hail of gunfire did much for the cause, leveling the Germans swiftly, efficiently. However, the fight wasn't all in favor of the Americans. In the end, the Panzer that had positioned itself just outside of the church's courtyard fired the lethal shot.

As darkness fell and the gunfire ceased for a brief moment, two soldiers stood from the rubble. They both recognized each other as their only enemy in the world. Both reached for weapons that were not there, and fought off the sudden embarrassment of being disarmed. In the fading light, both approached each other, their shadows dancing around them, cast upon the rubble by the fires that now burned slowly to their deaths. The combatants circled, unsure of the other's abilities, unsure of whether to strike first, or defend the pending assault. Silently the duo circled on into the night.

German Held City, Behind German Lines, November 30, 1944

The two sat apart from each other, glaring into the other's eyes. Neither one knew much of the other's language, but knew just enough to communicate throughout the night. They learned much about their counterpart's way of life, how much they had in common, and more importantly, how much they both disliked the war. Both had families that they would rather be with instead of fighting almost pointlessly. Johan, the German soldier, managed to tell Johnny that he was a farmer before the war, an unfortunate individual that managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Hitler came to power. Johnny managed to tell Johan that he, too, was but a simple farmer, drafted near the beginning of the war by his father who said it would do the family a great honor.

Both stood at the sound of approaching footsteps. Not knowing who it was sent fear through the hearts of both men. Johnny's hopes faltered as German troops emerged from the shadows. Johan approached them, and speaking swiftly, sent them away. Before they left, one of the men handed Johan a pistol, spoke something softly, and left with the others, all laughing to themselves. Johan looked Johnny in the eye, a deep, honored gaze. "You would do the same..." Johan muttered, heavily accented. Never breaking the gaze, Johan lifted the weapon and aimed at Johnny's head. Johnny had already accepted his fate, and was shocked when Johan lowered the weapon, and even more shocked at the intense pain in his left foot. The ring of the shot cleared the air, only to be replaced by Johnny falling to the ground in pain. "Go home to family. America troops here soon. Gehst du bitte, zu deinen familie!" Johnny watched Johan wipe a tear from his eye, turn, and head in the direction of his comrades...

Enumclaw, Washington, Abner Ranch, Tommy Abner's Room, November 30, 1944

Dear Santa Clause:
My mom says that I have been good this year and that you always bring the good kids what they want for Christmas. There is only one thing that I want for Christmas this year, and that is my brother Johnny. I want him to be home this year for Christmas so we can play games and make forts and listen to radio shows together, just like we used to. Because he has been fighting and hurting people in the war, you might think that he has been bad this year, but mommy says that he only hurts the bad people, so I think that would make him good. Also, Daddy has been good this year too, so could you get him a new leg?
Thomas Abner

Enumclaw, Washington, Abner Ranch, Family Room, December 25, 1944

Tommy's father received a new "peg-leg" the day before.

Tommy's mother received a vase, one that someone had saved up for for a long time.

Tommy received a few toys, books, clothes...

The noon sun shone bright, but did little to offset the coldness of the day. A few birds managed to brave the weather, and sang merrily amongst themselves. Tommy's mother and father both had seen the disappointment in Tommy's eyes as Johnny did not appear for this day. At one point or another, they all wept, saddened by the outcome of the day's events. The silence in the house was only disturbed by the soft chattering of the tube radio playing Christmas songs. No one noticed as the automobile pulled into the driveway, nor did they notice as one of its occupants hobbled to the door. They did, however, notice that someone was knocking on this door. When the door was opened and the brave soldier stepped through, no one spoke, for they knew that Johnny would have his Christmas...

******

Johnny's Christmas (2007 version)

Kleinhau, Germany, November 29, 1944

   It was raining again. Not that hard, pounding rain that had been so common in days past, but the light drizzle that would eventually soak one's uniform. Small fires burned relentlessly in a few of the buildings down the street; fires that had been set by the Germans as they retreated to a more stable site up the street. The thunder of gunfire could be made out from the distance, along with the incessant bellow of Howitzer fire.

    Allied troops were slowly advancing in on Germany, with the Soviets slowly gaining ground from the other direction. Soon, Hitler’s hold on the continent would forever be broken; shattered by the combined arms of these two mighty armies.

   Sergeant Jonathan Abner huddled quietly in the church as the German troops marched by in the distance.  He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get himself into this mess. The constant barrage of enemy artillery and mortar fire made verbal communications extremely difficult, and the order to retreat and regroup never made it to his ears. Footfalls outside on the mushy ground caught his attention. He listened, hoped and prayed. Words that he’d once found foreign to him filled his ears as the line chatter from the German grunts wafted through the shattered window. With a shallow wave, he beckoned his men closer.

   To what was left of his platoon, he signaled them to open fire on the passers-by. The hail of gunfire did much for their cause, leveling the Germans swiftly and efficiently. However, the fight wasn't all in favor of Abner and his men. In the end, one lucky artillery shell found the church, leveling it and removing the small American threat from the war.

   As darkness fell and the gunfire ceased for a brief moment, two soldiers stood from the rubble. They both recognized each other as their only enemy in the world. Both reached for weapons that were not there, and fought off the sudden embarrassment of being disarmed. In the fading light, both approached each other, their shadows dancing around them, cast upon the rubble by the fires that now burned slowly unto their deaths. The combatants circled, unsure of the other's abilities, unsure of whether to strike first, or defend the pending assault. Silently the duo circled on into the night.

Kleinhau, Germany, November 30, 1944

   The two sat apart from each other, glaring into the other's eyes.  Abner and his partner, both prisoner and jailer, finally broke the cold silence and smiled in the dawn’s early light. There existed between the two of them a small pack of field rations, Hitler’s finest, upon which they eventually feasted. Voices called in the distance, too far off to be recognizable; both hoped that their men would arrive first.

   Neither one knew much of the other's language, but they knew just enough to communicate throughout the late night and early morning. Using gestures and soft tones, they discovered  much about each other. So much so, that Abner found a common bond between this enemy warrior. Before the war, they were both simple farmers, recruited to fight in the war more or less unwillingly. Ripped from their homes and ways of life, they were forced to do what they were brought up never to do: Kill another human being. Again and again, they’d harmed another, leaving mothers sonless, wives husbandless, children fatherless. It was a brutal truth to war, that people would kill others; neither had enjoyed it.

   Johan, as Abner learned, had a family of his own, a wife and two daughters. He didn’t have a wife or children of his own, but Abner did have his own parents, a little brother, and a high school sweetheart to return to once the war was over.

   Their communication was rudimentary, at best, but filled each other with hope, and a deep longing for home. The subject of surrender came up, and they mutually decided that it wasn’t an option. Abner didn’t like the idea of becoming a German prisoner of war, he’d seen a few camps, and heard stories that Johan could not confirm, but scared him none the less; Johan, on the other hand, had heard similar stories of America’s mistreatment of war prisoners, and despite Abner’s  constant attempts to calm him, remained adamant to his ideals of being a free man. The conversation died after that, both fearing retribution from the other should they get up to leave; both waiting it out to see who would come to whose rescue.

   Both stood at the sound of approaching footsteps. Not knowing who it was sent fear through the hearts of both men. Johnny's hopes faltered as German troops emerged from the shadows of early morning. Johan approached them, and speaking swiftly, sent them away. Before they left, one of the men handed Johan a pistol, spoke something softly, and left with the others, all laughing to themselves. Johan looked Johnny in the eye, a deep, honored gaze.  Abner knew what was to come, the Germans were retreating and didn’t have the room for a prisoner. He didn’t have any hatred towards Johan, and thoughts of home filled his mind.

   Never breaking the gaze, Johan lifted the weapon and aimed at Johnny's head. Johnny had already accepted his fate, and was shocked when Johan lowered the weapon, and even more shocked at the intense pain in his left foot. The ring of the shot cleared the air, only to be replaced by Johnny falling to the ground in pain. “America troops here soon. Gehst du bitte, zu deinen familie!” Abner watched Johan wipe a tear from his eye, turn, and head in the direction of his comrades at a brisk jog.

   “Let them go!” Abner called to the allied troops that came, following the sound of the Luger’s shot. “One of them saved my life, it is the least I can do.”

   “Medic!” he heard one of them cry out. He watched with hazed vision as the six of them formed a small perimeter to protect their injured man. “We’ve taken the town,” the same voice said to him. “Judging by the way things look, you did your part!” The man laughed and slapped Abner heartily on the shoulder. It was a refreshing feeling, momentarily focusing his brain off the pain in his foot. Eventually, exhaustion and shock forced the young sergeant into slumber.


Enumclaw, Washington, Abner Ranch, Tommy Abner's Room, November 30, 1944

Dear Santa Clause:
   
   My mom says that I have been good this year and that you always bring the good kids what they
    want for Christmas. There is only one thing that I want for Christmas this year, and that is my
    brother Johnny. I want him to be home this year for Christmas so we can play games and make
    forts and listen to radio shows together, just like we used to. Because he has been fighting and
    hurting people in the war, you might think that he has been bad this year, but mommy says that he
    only hurts the bad people, so I think that would make him good. Also, Daddy has been good this
    year too, so could you get him a new leg?
    
Thomas Abner

Enumclaw, Washington, Abner Ranch, Family Room, December 25, 1944

   Tommy's father received a new "peg-leg" the day before. It was an adequate replacement to the real one that he lost in the fields during harvest. The plow could be an evil thing if one wasn’t careful with it.

   Tommy's mother received a vase, one that someone had saved up for over a long time. It became part of the family’s tradition in the years that followed, to place the vase as the Christmas dinner’s centerpiece, filled with whatever kind of flower was still in bloom.

   Tommy received a few toys, books, clothes... It was an unfortunate time for the family, he knew, and he hated receiving clothes for Christmas, but he cried as he put them on, the simple hand-me-downs his brother once wore, saved for the day he’d be big enough to wear them.
   
   The noon sun shone bright, but did little to offset the coldness of the day. A few birds managed to brave the snowy weather, and sang merrily amongst themselves. Tommy's mother and father both had seen the disappointment in Tommy's eyes as Johnny did not appear for this day.  They knew what Tommy didn’t know; they knew that Johnny had been injured in the war, but they kept it from him. Tommy held his brother in high esteem, idolized him, wanted to be just like him. How could they tell little Tommy that his brother had been injured, that the wound looked self-inflicted, That Johnny might not ever come home?

   At one point or another, they all wept, saddened by the outcome of the day's events. The silence in the house was only disturbed by the soft chattering of the tube radio playing Christmas songs, one of the few times that the normal programming went off-air. There were a few reports of the war, there always were, but they sounded recycled, yesterday‘s news. No one wanted a downer on the happiest day of the year, after all.
   
   No one noticed as the taxicab pulled into the driveway, nor did they notice as its charge hobbled to the door. They did, however, notice that someone was knocking on this door. When the door was opened and the brave soldier stepped through, no one spoke in the tear soaked silence, for they knew that Johnny would finally have his Christmas. His dress uniform was flaked white, gently from the snowfall outside, and soon, dark spots appeared where tears fell, his and his family’s.

   After a few stories about the war and what he had seen, the first home cooked meal in what seemed like forever, there came a knock on the door. Tommy had arranged a surprise for his brother; had used the family’s new telephone to make a special call. The relatives could wait for morning, the family had decided unanimously, but Tommy knew a certain someone who couldn’t wait, who had to be there.

   Johnny was greeted by the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, his love, his one and only. What she didn’t know was that he’d been writing to her father recently, had asked for her hand. They embraced a well needed embrace, she didn’t want to let go. Her parents were there, and they, with the Abner family, watched as Johnny broke the embrace, and knelt as best he could, considering his injured foot. Before he could fish out the ring he’d been carrying with him for the last few months,  she simply cried, “Yes!”

   It was almost a year later when the card arrived. In it was a simple photograph with a face that Johnny recognized immediately, surrounding Johan in the photo was his family, and only one word was hand printed on the back, “Danke”.


Czar "At least its Ghosts and not skeletons from the past" Mohab

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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #7 on: February 22, 2011, 08:08:28 pm »
Warning: this topic has not been posted in for at least 120 days.
Unless you're sure you want to reply, please consider starting a new topic.


The irony - "You are about to necropost. In a thread about long dead threads." Pffff.

With luck, this link will work:

http://web.archive.org/web/20010330003808/feedback.interplay.com/sfcommand/msg1/56471.html

There's enough that survived of this part of the story that I think I can say I have finally found a significant part of what I was looking for. 3 1/2 years later.

I actually miss those days; and I wish that I could send a letter back in time to myself to, well, do better at archiving the good stuff.

Czar "here's to the good ol' days" Mohab, who might add to that letter, "write better", and "alternate-future future starships belong NOT in SFB".
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Offline Kreeargh

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Re: Ghosts of Hyperion
« Reply #8 on: February 22, 2011, 10:52:12 pm »
The orignal author has the "right to bring it up agian"  per say  ;) so say the net rules so your good to go ;)
Time for life!