Read Online WARP world by Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson
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You? First time extrans?” A low, menacing chuckle. “They’ll invent a new word for disgrace to describe the depth of that kind of failure. You make it back alive after that and you’ll wish you didn’t. They won’t just strip you of your title and hold you up for the World to see just what happens when People turn their back on orthodoxy, they’ll also make sure you live a long, long time in the worst misery possible and that every day will be a humiliation, that every day you will be reminded of your mistake.” She broke away, her tone shifting back to a more casual air, “But, like I said, you already know that, don’t you?”
Seg stared through Kerbin before speaking.
“My last teacher said I’d either make a large impact or be the victim of one.” His face was immovable but he wondered if Kerbin could see through the facade.
Her words were true, entirely true. His plan was insanely ambitious. Injury or death, those possibilities were vastly preferable to the fate that awaited him should he fail and live to tell of it.
There was also the terrifying prospect of traveling on water. Something he refused to dwell on.
But it was all right in front of him, and he couldn’t let a world and an opportunity this rich go to waste. Maybe he was overstepping his bounds here, and maybe he was getting too ambitious for a barely-released Theorist.
Segkel Eraranat, Selectee for Field Research, youngest Theorist to ever hold the position , he imagined the newsfeed would say one day. Youngest and boldest. Fear and thrill wrestled in his stomach. Thrill won easily.
“Get to work on the communications,” he ordered.
With the squad settled in for the evening, except for two troopers standing watch, Seg finally had the opportunity to review the data from the Shasir priest without being disturbed. Always the same stories, world after world–the conquerors and the conquered. Though the story of this world was no different from a hundred others he had studied during his time training at the Guild, this time the details mattered, not simply for good grades but for survival,.
Coming from the brain of the Shasir, the facts would be slanted in the direction of his kind but that’s where training came in.
A hagiocracy, a society governed by holy men, with three races and four classes. From top to bottom: Shasir, Damiar, Kenda and Welf. Easy enough, though there were a legion of sub-classes within each, to be sure.
The Shasir’s home territory was on the opposite side of the planet; they were old hands at the game of world conquest. In areas such as this, inhabited by primitives, they simply announced themselves as gods upon arrival, then smothered any resistance with their vastly superior weapons and technology, which they passed off as ‘magic’. Food, labor, natural resources, all were easily extracted and exploited once the population was suitably awed.
The Damiar were a sub-set of the Shasir, a class of nobles set up to act as liaisons to the holy men and gods. Bestowed with power and privilege, they looked after the practical, hands-on business of running an empire.
According to the data from the priest’s brain, this technique had worked well elsewhere but when they had arrived here they ran into an obstacle: the Kenda.
The Welf were largely peaceful, uneducated and agrarian. They were naturally inclined toward belief and superstition, and had been subdued and seduced easily by these new gods and their magic. But even with a Welf army, the Shasir made little or no progress against the independent and seafaring Kenda, who had the clear advantage of geography and experience. Shasir boats, designed for ocean crossings, were large and slow, unsuited for the many inlets, rivers and tight channels their foes had spent generations navigating, and the Welf, who had their own unpleasant history with the Kenda, maintained an unshakable fear of the open water. The conquest was a near disaster.
Until the airships had
Seg stared through Kerbin before speaking.
“My last teacher said I’d either make a large impact or be the victim of one.” His face was immovable but he wondered if Kerbin could see through the facade.
Her words were true, entirely true. His plan was insanely ambitious. Injury or death, those possibilities were vastly preferable to the fate that awaited him should he fail and live to tell of it.
There was also the terrifying prospect of traveling on water. Something he refused to dwell on.
But it was all right in front of him, and he couldn’t let a world and an opportunity this rich go to waste. Maybe he was overstepping his bounds here, and maybe he was getting too ambitious for a barely-released Theorist.
Segkel Eraranat, Selectee for Field Research, youngest Theorist to ever hold the position , he imagined the newsfeed would say one day. Youngest and boldest. Fear and thrill wrestled in his stomach. Thrill won easily.
“Get to work on the communications,” he ordered.
With the squad settled in for the evening, except for two troopers standing watch, Seg finally had the opportunity to review the data from the Shasir priest without being disturbed. Always the same stories, world after world–the conquerors and the conquered. Though the story of this world was no different from a hundred others he had studied during his time training at the Guild, this time the details mattered, not simply for good grades but for survival,.
Coming from the brain of the Shasir, the facts would be slanted in the direction of his kind but that’s where training came in.
A hagiocracy, a society governed by holy men, with three races and four classes. From top to bottom: Shasir, Damiar, Kenda and Welf. Easy enough, though there were a legion of sub-classes within each, to be sure.
The Shasir’s home territory was on the opposite side of the planet; they were old hands at the game of world conquest. In areas such as this, inhabited by primitives, they simply announced themselves as gods upon arrival, then smothered any resistance with their vastly superior weapons and technology, which they passed off as ‘magic’. Food, labor, natural resources, all were easily extracted and exploited once the population was suitably awed.
The Damiar were a sub-set of the Shasir, a class of nobles set up to act as liaisons to the holy men and gods. Bestowed with power and privilege, they looked after the practical, hands-on business of running an empire.
According to the data from the priest’s brain, this technique had worked well elsewhere but when they had arrived here they ran into an obstacle: the Kenda.
The Welf were largely peaceful, uneducated and agrarian. They were naturally inclined toward belief and superstition, and had been subdued and seduced easily by these new gods and their magic. But even with a Welf army, the Shasir made little or no progress against the independent and seafaring Kenda, who had the clear advantage of geography and experience. Shasir boats, designed for ocean crossings, were large and slow, unsuited for the many inlets, rivers and tight channels their foes had spent generations navigating, and the Welf, who had their own unpleasant history with the Kenda, maintained an unshakable fear of the open water. The conquest was a near disaster.
Until the airships had
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