Years ago, I was a part of a group of friends I'm pleased to still keep in touch with to this day. We were members of the University of Minnesota Gaming Society and the Fantasy Role Playing Games Association ... or "UMGS" and "FRPGA" for short. We would meet twice weekly to talk, socialize and play games of all types. Then, one day while mowing my mother's lawn, an idea came to me. Actually, it was a sentence ... and it needed fleshing out. But from those few words, "The Mad Penguin sat in the darkened cockpit of the Dreamer's Folly..." sprung an idea that I've adored ever since. I would put forth a story -written by members of UMGS and FRPGA- that starred those self-same members in a semi-alternate-Universe setting of Science Fiction. I began by writing the first installment, followed by other members who quickly warmed to the surreal idea. We ranged from serious SF to pulp fiction to comic books to Anime to comedy and back again. It was a great amount of fun... And, for the first time on the web, here it is...

In The Dreamstate: Part Two
by Steve Stackhouse

It was a dark time for the Rebel Alliance.

The Rebel commander threw his hands into the air in aggravation as the reports flooded in. Heavy losses across the front. His northern forces were in almost a panicked retreat. Penetration was slow elsewhere, but steady, and Evan knew that the rate would only increase as the Mad Penguin's forces became more accustomed to the planet's atmosphere.

Evan shook his head sadly. His position would have been secure if only the Penguin's forces had not been added to the fray. Imperial Army forces which could work on a planet like CoMann's world were few and far between, and the Penguin had grabbed several of them from the Impies shortly after their training regimen had been completed. Evan had felt that this was to his advantage at the time - it was that many fewer forces that could be brought to bear against his rebels, and the senate would never resort to mercenaries. Or so he had thought at the time.

Halting his pacing with a conscious effort, Evan scanned his field HQ with a trained eye. Pushing aside the small, poisonous lizards which had settled themselves on the map which dominated the center of the tent, he scanned the current situation with a practiced eye. The situation was poor, but... wait. The Penguin's forces in the center seemed to be moving in an uncoordinated manner. Three units had pushed on much further than the rest of the line. In fact, they were penetrating to such a degree that they might well be surrounded and destroyed. Evan stroked his scruffy beard as one of the lizards crawled back upon the table and hissed at him. The three units had turned so that they were marching toward CoMann Capital, but that was stupid, there was no way a mere three units could take the city, and there was no way any other units could arrive within 20 standard hours of their arrival. The Penguin would only lose those units if they continued on this course, and the Penguin hated sacrificing manpower unless absolutely necessary, even in a feint.

The lizard hissed again, and Evan turned from the map for a moment to pull a mouse from a small cage. He set it upon the map and watched, amused, as the lizard jumped onto it and bit its neck. The mouse gave a single, convulsive jerk as it died.

That could be me, Evan thought, swallowing deeply, no longer amused by his pet's display of combat prowess. If CoMann Capital falls, I may as well just blow my head off.

Evan turned his head to the soldier standing in the corner. Hans had been with the unit which had been at the brunt of the penetration, and, as far as was known. Hans' face had a large scar where his eyebrows had once been, giving his face a sinister, semi-human cast. He had been a scout with the Rebel forces which bore the brunt of the most recent mercenary assault. As far as Evan knew, Hans was the only survivor.

Evan's gaze drifted to the map, and then back to Hans. Something was scratching at the back of his mind, but... of course! "Did you see the insignia of the unit which attacked you?" Evan asked, his voice breaking the silence in the room.

Hans looked up, startled. "I - it wasn't something I was looking for..." He went into deep thought for a moment, placing his right hand over his mouth and running his left through the air in front of him, as if counting. "I think - no, I'm sure it was a curved sword, a scimitar."

Evan swore. Of course! The Impies would insist on having some of their own forces there, and there was that new, elite unit which had just been formed. He wasn't fighting just one force, he was fighting two! The Impies wouldn't allow the Penguin to control their forces, either, and the Penguin certainly wouldn't turn his forces over to the Senate. So these units must be Imperial, and they were making an attempt to take CoMann Capital without realizing that they wouldn't be able to receive the Penguin's support in time. Evan's frown slowly grew to a tight-lipped smile as he strolled out the front of his HQ, bellowing orders to his communications people and messengers. His plan was simple. Pull all forces away from the penetration. Let them get to CoMann Capital as fast as possible, while sealing off all retreat routes. When they arrived at CoMann Capital, they could be destroyed at leisure, and his line would once again be solid. He might still be driven back, but he could certainly hold out longer if the Imperial elite were taken out. And that might give him the bargaining chips he needed to establish himself as ruler of CoMann's World.

This has to be the cleanest place on this God-forsaken planet, Dan thought to himself as he scanned the main room of his command vehicle. Everything from the provisions locker to his command console to communications was spotless. Even the floor was spotless, which was a truly incredible feat given the mess that passed for a ground outside.

The reason CommCen for F.R.P. was so perfectly clean was currently lying on its side on a table with half of its insides neatly piled beside it. Todd was currently doing some maintenance on his cleaning robots. While Dan had to admit the thing was efficient, he wished Todd would turn some of his robotics skills towards the war effort as opposed to keeping the troops from getting muddy.

With a sigh, Dan turned to the third chair at the command console. That this chair was unoccupied as well was not in and of itself unusual. What was unusual was that the person who was supposed to occupy this chair was on the same planet, and, in fact, in the same room as the chair. Mark was currently standing next to the food locker, munching on an instant hamburger and drinking a soda. He had spent twenty years in the military, five of them with the Imperial Army Corps of Engineers and fifteen with a front-line unit of the Penguin's mercenaries. He had graduated from the academy with honors. He had commanded several units. He was considered one of the Penguin's best military tacticians.

In twenty years, Mark had not seen a single battle.

Every time his unit was called into service by the Penguin, Mark managed to assign himself leave. Mark thought this was perfectly reasonable. After all, the army had spent millions of credits training him, the Penguin had spent even more equipping and paying him, so why should he waste all of that money by getting himself killed in combat? So, whenever his unit went into combat, Mark went onto the ICS California to protect everyone else's investments. He felt it was the least he owed them.

He also couldn't understand why the Penguin had specifically ordered him to go on this mission, and risked his entire investment.

Finishing his hamburger and taking a long drink from the bottle, Mark walked to the front of the room. "So what's up, guys?" he said, leaning forward and looking into the screens of the command console. Flashing back at him was a screen showing their own unit's location relative to that of the rest of the Penguin's forces.

"Oh, not much," Todd replied, not glancing up from his work, "just double-checking the power core on this D-2 unit, I'm not sure the mix is proper."

"P.Y.V.'s going too fast," Dan grunted, spinning in his chair and ignoring Todd. "The Penguin just sent down orders to us to try to get to them to give some back-up, but with these trees, I'm not sure how fast we'll be able to follow. It amazes me how fast they're going."

"That's not good. Holy shit! Those guys really are moving, aren't they?" Mark quickly scanned the layout, his trained-if-not-experienced eyes picking out the locations with east. Frowning, he sat down in his chair and pulled a plug from the console. Inserting it into the pair of glasses which he wore. Both he and Todd wore these gasses, which could turn into a pair of screens, allowing them to free up two additional screens for Dan, and giving them seven in all. This way, they could keep the maximum amount of information available for immediate use in a combat situation. Mark flipped up a strategic map and winced. "What are they doing? They're so far ahead they'll reach CoMann Capital way ahead of the rest of us. Damn kids are gonna get us all killed.

Todd looked up at Mark's outburst. "What's going on?" he asked, setting his tools down and walking to the console.

Mark replied by putting the screen on the main viewer. Todd scanned it and let out a low whistle. "What do they want us to do?"

"Catch up with them, most likely," Dan replied, standing up with a popping of joints, as his stiff joints protested his action. "Of course they have no suggestions on how to do this. They just tell us to do it."

"Yeah, that's typical," Mark nodded, and then drank the remainder of his soda, throwing his bottle towards the waste receptacle and missing by a wide margin. He then switched back to a more local picture on the main viewer. "Front scouts are reporting sightings of rebel forces, Dan."

"What's the status of other units near us, Todd?"

"Checking. Wait a second." Todd frowned, played with a couple of dials, spoke into a microphone, and went pale. "Trouble. We can't contact N.O.6 or U.M.G. We're being jammed somehow."

"Jammed? How? Those rebels couldn't possible have access to out frequencies," Mark protested, his voice rising as paranoia set in.

"So they must be jamming them all. Hell, it's been done before," Dan said, glaring at the screen. "The Penguin isn't going to be happy. We'd better get moving. P.Y.V. is going to need all the support we can give them."

"Can't we just go home?" Mark whined, as the armored all-terrain vehicle began to move underneath them.

Continue to Part Three...