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Basically it is an alternate future Israel, where they have the equivalent of Battletech-Dark Age technology, well roughly. (This is not that far fetched as it may seem, as in Battletech technological development does slow down for relatively unclear reasons. )
Basically, without giving too much away, it is set in Israel-Palestine, after the two areas have become overcrowded megacities with a cyberpunk/biopunk background, where cybernetics and genetic engineering are common (especially in Israel, which has less religious strictures on the matter. )
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Deep Inside the Palestinian Territories -
"But sir, won't we be blamed too? I mean the Booby-Trapped Fusion reactors are on our Mechs!" Akram, the youngest of the Martyr-Directors of the New Palestinian Authority asked with nervousness edging into his voice. He did not wish to question his instructor and senior, however he could not help but feel that murdering millions of their own people was somehow a very risky plan. Even if this was war.
Muneef Azer just smiled dowm, quietly and patiently, like an old grand father looking down at his grandson who has asked him a child's question. "You are still naive Akram. Yes, both our sides will be indicted, but if it continues like this, who's allies will break first? The West is squeemish about Israel as it is. Our own brothers have enough strength now in the UN to start proposing sanctions against Israel. The Great Imperialist and her allies have more to worry about then their tiny neighbor in a region they largely do not care for outside of oil - and that has been rendered near obsolete in the past twenty years. We want this land because it was promised to us by God. Sooner or later, Israel will have enough blood on its hands that all their allies will flee. It won't matter who's to blame, all that matters is whether Israel's allies find their continued support expedient. They are men of little faith, and such are swept by the superficiality of the moment. "
Akram considered what Muneef had said. The old man had directed countless martyrs in his fifty years of serving in the Martyr-Directory, an organization of the Third Palestinian-Authority, an organization that was not supposed to exist. He had age and wisdom on his side, and his knowledge of Koranic scripture was unparalleled. Still, Akram had to ask more "But we will be killing our own people will we? I've heard reports that we are considered cowards for using suicide bombs!"
Muneef snickered. "Lying dogs they are Arkem. Think of it, who is the real coward? Martyrs, willing to lay down their very lives, for God, or these invaders, armed with Imperialist weapons, never risking a thing? Hiding behind these technologies given to them by cowards overseas, too afraid to fight their own battles, where they can shoot us from afar, with armor so thick we can never hit back? Our men must risk everything to fight, their own risk nothing. Our people are willing to die for our cause, there's are not. What sounds more honorable to you?"
Akram realized he never thought of it that way. "Indeed, the Israeli dogs are so cowardly they will not even risk a single life if they can help it!"
"Yes Akram, even their men act as squeemish as women. " With that he spat. "I thank God they are so weak, if they were stronger and wiser they would have just wiped us out and be done with it. Someday, our own time will come Akram, it has been promised, and we will not make the same weak hearted mistakes they do. Take heart from today, these invaders believe themselves safe behind their fancy new toys, donated to them by the American Imperialists. We will show them that they are helpless to even save their most vulnerable."
"But sir, won't we be blamed too? I mean the Booby-Trapped Fusion reactors are on our Mechs!" Akram, the youngest of the Martyr-Directors of the New Palestinian Authority asked with nervousness edging into his voice. He did not wish to question his instructor and senior, however he could not help but feel that murdering millions of their own people was somehow a very risky plan. Even if this was war.
Muneef Azer just smiled dowm, quietly and patiently, like an old grand father looking down at his grandson who has asked him a child's question. "You are still naive Akram. Yes, both our sides will be indicted, but if it continues like this, who's allies will break first? The West is squeemish about Israel as it is. Our own brothers have enough strength now in the UN to start proposing sanctions against Israel. The Great Imperialist and her allies have more to worry about then their tiny neighbor in a region they largely do not care for outside of oil - and that has been rendered near obsolete in the past twenty years. We want this land because it was promised to us by God. Sooner or later, Israel will have enough blood on its hands that all their allies will flee. It won't matter who's to blame, all that matters is whether Israel's allies find their continued support expedient. They are men of little faith, and such are swept by the superficiality of the moment. "
Akram considered what Muneef had said. The old man had directed countless martyrs in his fifty years of serving in the Martyr-Directory, an organization of the Third Palestinian-Authority, an organization that was not supposed to exist. He had age and wisdom on his side, and his knowledge of Koranic scripture was unparalleled. Still, Akram had to ask more "But we will be killing our own people will we? I've heard reports that we are considered cowards for using suicide bombs!"
Muneef snickered. "Lying dogs they are Arkem. Think of it, who is the real coward? Martyrs, willing to lay down their very lives, for God, or these invaders, armed with Imperialist weapons, never risking a thing? Hiding behind these technologies given to them by cowards overseas, too afraid to fight their own battles, where they can shoot us from afar, with armor so thick we can never hit back? Our men must risk everything to fight, their own risk nothing. Our people are willing to die for our cause, there's are not. What sounds more honorable to you?"
Akram realized he never thought of it that way. "Indeed, the Israeli dogs are so cowardly they will not even risk a single life if they can help it!"
"Yes Akram, even their men act as squeemish as women. " With that he spat. "I thank God they are so weak, if they were stronger and wiser they would have just wiped us out and be done with it. Someday, our own time will come Akram, it has been promised, and we will not make the same weak hearted mistakes they do. Take heart from today, these invaders believe themselves safe behind their fancy new toys, donated to them by the American Imperialists. We will show them that they are helpless to even save their most vulnerable."
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Near Neo-Jerusalem -
Shared-Promise Academy was the only school of its kind, not just in the Middle East, but the world. Placed near Jerusalem, it housed tens of thousands of orphaned students, from all faiths, from all over the world. Here Christians, Hindus, Muslims and Jews, and even those of no faith at all could learn with state of the art tools, from teachers of all cultures. It was already entering its thirty-second year, and Dr. Iris Janner could hardly believe it. She had been amongst one of its earliest graduates, and ever since entering the school at age 10, her parents killed by a Directed-Sniper, she had called it home. She never could understand just why so many people seemed to hate it though. From the very start it had been "grey-listed" by the UN, placed into a kind of legal and diplomatic purgatory. While it would be ludicrous to argue that the school violated any laws direct, those with the right sway in the UN, those who still believed only Muslim nations should compose the Middle East, argued that its very existence was "fatal" to any peace process, and many even argued it "spurred the growth of world wide terrorism." That was ludicrous of course, but even at its proposal Promise had faced an international backlash, with many other universities world wide initially shunning the school. That itself had almost proven insurmountable, but with enough support from Israeli academics, as well as Muslims facing oppression in their own countries, and Hindus likewise fleeing the chaos of India where Pan-Jihadist movements sometimes destroyed entire megacity blocks, sending out scores of refugees from all walks of life, even academia.
For Israeli citizenship, many of these desperate people were willing to join the great social experiment which was Shared-Promise. This is what gave it the essential influx of diversity, which the UN sought to indirectly choke off. They had plenty of domesticate enemies as well, from right-wing orthodox hard liners who felt that the school was accomodating terrorists, to those who believed it was a waste of funds. Many saw it as a mere publicity stunt.
Of course they were wrong. Iris knew this deep in her soul. It was so obvious to anyone who even took the time to visit. To just look outside.
She walked over to a wall, and pushed a panel of buttons, completely by memory to do just that. She was on the tenth story, but the AR Enhanced Windows automatically zoomed in on the children below. These were their youngest, elementary school and while she could not hear them, or identify the game they were playing, what she could see was how they were all kinds - Hindus, Muslims and Jews. These kids had known each other for years, and would die for one another just like they were their own family. Most of them were orphans from terrorist attacks, some coming in as toddlers. In their minds, they were family.
It was a bright day, and they kicked a Smart-Sphere on the adaptive grass, both programmable so as to move with the intent of the one who kicked it last. The game was meant to teach programming skills as well as physical coordination. The kids also found it darned fun.
Then she saw a shadow pass by and looked up grimacing.
"Can't they just leave us be?" She said to herself, starring up at the IDF Valiant. It was one of the newest models, meant to "reduce collateral", whatever that meant. In Iris mind all really meant less people were mass murdered for a stupid war that would never end.
It also meant they were now a target. While the IDF might have thought their new design was so impressive, the fact is it was also a symbol that the terrorists would want to take down.
The director was thrilled to have them, and in truth, the tremendous success of Shared-Promise had made it a target of jihadists and other powerful forces. This might be true, Iris realized, but she didn't think painting a bigger bullseye on the school was a solution. If the terrorists were really determined to get at Shared-Hope, she believed they would. She wanted increased security of course, but something more subtle. Something that didn't seem to challenge the Martyr-Directory, which was especially keen on targeting children or "future invaders" as they called them.
The kids stopped playing their game. The Smart-Sphere dropped mid kick as the controller lost focus, and fell unceremoniously to the ground. Thet all looked up, gaping at the most advanced Anti-Terror Mech in the world. A Mech that was designed to impress, painted ivory white and azure blue, the same colors as the Israeli flag. THAT bugged Iris more then anything. As if they couldn't make any more of a symbol out of it?
Didn't they realize that the lives of actual children were at stake, and planting a giant, walking Israeli flag would attract every Directed-Martyr from every possible corner of the Middle East? Why didn't they just put up a giant middle finger saying "F the mothers of the Jihadists!" right on top, it would have at least saved time and resources.
The pilot scanned the area and then began blasting its twin fusion powered Pulse Lasers into the air, alternating and crossing the beams with Streak-Missile lasers, so as to create a light show. The giant metallic beast also lifted up on jump jets and began twirling.
Iris suppressed a grow. She knew who the pilot was, and she hated her almost as much as the infernal contraptions themselves. It was Lt. Aviam Liss, and she was just the sort of irresponsible person that the military would send on such an irresponsible mission. At first she stared angrily at the idiot doing her little light and air dance show, and then, slowly, she grinned.
Oh she could file an official complaint about this. 'Reckless endangerment, distracting classes/recess and noise violations.' It would not do much, just make the lives of the Mech Pilots more difficult. But several other professors and herself had decided - as part of a long-term plan, to bug these Mech-Pilots in even the smallest of ways if they could. They hoped it would make them feel unwanted enough, and unwelcome enough, that they may decided to perhaps leave on their own accord. It was a long shot, but worth a try, and she laughed to herself thinking, it was also kind of fun to jab at these unwanted guests regardless.
Shared-Promise Academy was the only school of its kind, not just in the Middle East, but the world. Placed near Jerusalem, it housed tens of thousands of orphaned students, from all faiths, from all over the world. Here Christians, Hindus, Muslims and Jews, and even those of no faith at all could learn with state of the art tools, from teachers of all cultures. It was already entering its thirty-second year, and Dr. Iris Janner could hardly believe it. She had been amongst one of its earliest graduates, and ever since entering the school at age 10, her parents killed by a Directed-Sniper, she had called it home. She never could understand just why so many people seemed to hate it though. From the very start it had been "grey-listed" by the UN, placed into a kind of legal and diplomatic purgatory. While it would be ludicrous to argue that the school violated any laws direct, those with the right sway in the UN, those who still believed only Muslim nations should compose the Middle East, argued that its very existence was "fatal" to any peace process, and many even argued it "spurred the growth of world wide terrorism." That was ludicrous of course, but even at its proposal Promise had faced an international backlash, with many other universities world wide initially shunning the school. That itself had almost proven insurmountable, but with enough support from Israeli academics, as well as Muslims facing oppression in their own countries, and Hindus likewise fleeing the chaos of India where Pan-Jihadist movements sometimes destroyed entire megacity blocks, sending out scores of refugees from all walks of life, even academia.
For Israeli citizenship, many of these desperate people were willing to join the great social experiment which was Shared-Promise. This is what gave it the essential influx of diversity, which the UN sought to indirectly choke off. They had plenty of domesticate enemies as well, from right-wing orthodox hard liners who felt that the school was accomodating terrorists, to those who believed it was a waste of funds. Many saw it as a mere publicity stunt.
Of course they were wrong. Iris knew this deep in her soul. It was so obvious to anyone who even took the time to visit. To just look outside.
She walked over to a wall, and pushed a panel of buttons, completely by memory to do just that. She was on the tenth story, but the AR Enhanced Windows automatically zoomed in on the children below. These were their youngest, elementary school and while she could not hear them, or identify the game they were playing, what she could see was how they were all kinds - Hindus, Muslims and Jews. These kids had known each other for years, and would die for one another just like they were their own family. Most of them were orphans from terrorist attacks, some coming in as toddlers. In their minds, they were family.
It was a bright day, and they kicked a Smart-Sphere on the adaptive grass, both programmable so as to move with the intent of the one who kicked it last. The game was meant to teach programming skills as well as physical coordination. The kids also found it darned fun.
Then she saw a shadow pass by and looked up grimacing.
"Can't they just leave us be?" She said to herself, starring up at the IDF Valiant. It was one of the newest models, meant to "reduce collateral", whatever that meant. In Iris mind all really meant less people were mass murdered for a stupid war that would never end.
It also meant they were now a target. While the IDF might have thought their new design was so impressive, the fact is it was also a symbol that the terrorists would want to take down.
The director was thrilled to have them, and in truth, the tremendous success of Shared-Promise had made it a target of jihadists and other powerful forces. This might be true, Iris realized, but she didn't think painting a bigger bullseye on the school was a solution. If the terrorists were really determined to get at Shared-Hope, she believed they would. She wanted increased security of course, but something more subtle. Something that didn't seem to challenge the Martyr-Directory, which was especially keen on targeting children or "future invaders" as they called them.
The kids stopped playing their game. The Smart-Sphere dropped mid kick as the controller lost focus, and fell unceremoniously to the ground. Thet all looked up, gaping at the most advanced Anti-Terror Mech in the world. A Mech that was designed to impress, painted ivory white and azure blue, the same colors as the Israeli flag. THAT bugged Iris more then anything. As if they couldn't make any more of a symbol out of it?
Didn't they realize that the lives of actual children were at stake, and planting a giant, walking Israeli flag would attract every Directed-Martyr from every possible corner of the Middle East? Why didn't they just put up a giant middle finger saying "F the mothers of the Jihadists!" right on top, it would have at least saved time and resources.
The pilot scanned the area and then began blasting its twin fusion powered Pulse Lasers into the air, alternating and crossing the beams with Streak-Missile lasers, so as to create a light show. The giant metallic beast also lifted up on jump jets and began twirling.
Iris suppressed a grow. She knew who the pilot was, and she hated her almost as much as the infernal contraptions themselves. It was Lt. Aviam Liss, and she was just the sort of irresponsible person that the military would send on such an irresponsible mission. At first she stared angrily at the idiot doing her little light and air dance show, and then, slowly, she grinned.
Oh she could file an official complaint about this. 'Reckless endangerment, distracting classes/recess and noise violations.' It would not do much, just make the lives of the Mech Pilots more difficult. But several other professors and herself had decided - as part of a long-term plan, to bug these Mech-Pilots in even the smallest of ways if they could. They hoped it would make them feel unwanted enough, and unwelcome enough, that they may decided to perhaps leave on their own accord. It was a long shot, but worth a try, and she laughed to herself thinking, it was also kind of fun to jab at these unwanted guests regardless.
This is very rough draft/side hobby. Anyways, more to come, though I cannot say when.
