The New Pretender

I think the worst part of all this is that we simply were not prepared…

We’re so fucked…

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NAC Bio-Scholar’s Log #450728:1543

28th July 2145 (circa.) [Redacted]

No one is quite sure precisely where the would-be ‘Neo-Jacobites’ came from, but it was clear almost from the outset what their purpose was: Raise army, march south, install new King, succeed where the Bonnie Prince failed so long ago – and do so with as much blood and violence as possible. The arrived somewhere in the Argyle Settlement earlier this month (circa.), settled in the Island Wastes and immediately set off attempting to rally some poor bastards to their cause.

They decided to visit us not long after. To be honest, it sounds like it is some kind of a big joke. They are nothing short of a band of wanna-be revolutionaries in mad costumes. I mean, they were wearing wrap-around kilts for God’s sake, despite the intolerable heat! We quickly told them where to go, of course. Nothing to worry about. Just another roving gang of vagabonds. Not uncommon these days, but no real threat. Leave it to the Extermination Units to sort out, while we simply send them on their way.

However, it was not long before the stories started chattering on the vox-units. What we had dismissed as mere vagabonds were clearly establishing themselves amongst the populace of the NAC. Envoys were creating blood-cults in the major settlements, while whole groups from the smaller habitats in the northern mountains were defecting to the cause. The New Pretender, as he bafflingly began to call himself, was convincing people that he was the rightful heir to the long extinct Britannia Throne.

Still, not really our concern.

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NAC Bio-Scholar’s Log #450820:1543

20th August 2145 (circa.) [Redacted]

I actually saw the New Pretender give a speech, the other day! I was on a research trip to the Ness-side Settlement to survey the remains of some kind of pre-Cataclysm beast that had washed up on the dusty shore of what was left of the loch. (My report is pending, but the remains, by the way, were little more than poly-synth antiques from some old crypto-zoological museum that used to be nearby.) He was trying to convince people that they should be following him and disregarding the rulings of the NAC.

He was, quite genuinely a frightening presence to behold. Standing six feet at least, shoulders broad against a formidably muscular frame that you would be a fool to challenge. His features were striking, regal and handsome – perhaps even beautiful, in a way – but with a dangerous flare that immediately intimidated me when I looked into his eyes. Like all of us, he bears the scars of a life lived on a burned-out planet, but upon his dark skin are numerous vitiligo patches, probably indicative of a Northern heritage.

What I remember most vividly was the pendant he wore proudly around his neck: a Celtic knot, emblazoned upon the surface of a heart-shaped locket…

According to the records kept by my grandfather, it was an old symbol, used by the royalist factions during the Second Wars of Independence and ensuing First Civil War. In the former it was considered a symbol of unity despite the changing landscape of the political balances; supporters claimed to hold a relic of ‘perfect independence’ within the ornate metal case. Meanwhile, in the latter, conversely, it represented a desire to hold fast to the pre-existing establishment; ‘perfect independence’ turned into ‘perfect dominance.’ Precisely what, if anything, was actually held in these small pieces of jewellery we will never know – all were destroyed in the Cataclysm.

Or so we thought.

Now this hulking death-bringer is using it for his own twisted means. He claims descendancy from the great rulers of old, his right to rule coming directly from the Jacobean line of Scottish and English royalty, long exiled but far from deceased. His forbears wore the locket with pride and passed them from generation to generation, waiting until the right time to use its awesome power – some ‘perfect redistribution’ whatever the fuck that means!

Everything changes except nothing I guess.

Anyway, whether legitimate or not, the upshot of all of this is that the New Pretender seems to be rapidly gaining control over a huge section of (for want of a better term) society. I overheard one of the guard-units earlier… this might be worse than we thought…

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NAC Bio-Scholar’s Log #450915:1592

15th September 2145 (circa.) [Redacted]

Since I heard the speech, something has been niggling at me, so I’ve been doing some research on the Cataclysm. As we all know, humanity underwent something of a metamorphosis. It was different depending on where you were on the planet, but each and every civilisation was profoundly changed. Countries such as America descended into chaos – as predicted in many historic works of apparent fiction. Yet similarly whole continents initially thrived, especially those where baking heat and general deprivation were not exactly uncommon anyway. Until the land became too inhospitable of course.

Britannic and Nordic environs, though, were amongst those that took a more graduated response to the impending destruction. Chaos and violence was not really our thing at that time. Rather than falling to in-fighting, or attempting some desperate power-grab, the people of these nations banded together in a way that was unprecedented in human history. Even England, with its slavish patriotism and delusions of grandeur realised the need for something different.

Here in what was Scotland, we rapidly combined to form civilian units in various places across the country. Though resembling a return to the old clan system, these groupings actually facilitated the development of the Nova Alba Collective, a network of community cohesion and the closest thing to a government that exists these days. Meanwhile the combination of mountains, lochs and coastlines mitigated some of the worst effects of the Cataclysm – in other words, we still have water and some semblance of arable land. The NAC has become a bastion of humanity.

Unfortunately, again much like the clans, factions and alliances emerged that threatened to tip the delicate balance. After the ensuing Second Civil War, the NAC became increasingly authoritarian, by necessity, and began to rule with an iron fist.

With such rule breeds dissent. And those looking for an alternative had found it in the New Pretender. He was strong, he was convincing, he was attractive – it is no wonder that people were drawn in by him. Old ties run in the blood, stronger than steel and hotter than the sun. They were ready and waiting for a new smith to mould them into shape. Slowly but surely the iron fist was being smelted down and replaced by the bloody sword.

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NAC Bio-Scholar’s Log #451130:1625

30th November 2145 (circa.) [Redacted]

Most of us, I think, have just been trying to get by the best we can. As a Bio-Scholar, my only interest lies in the world of natural philosophy and history. Beyond rudimentary analysis of the locket that has become the Neo-Jacobite sigil, and some necessary admin, I have generally tried to avoid the ins and outs of the running of the NAC. I have food, I have shelter and I have my work – that’s enough for me. I have never bothered to question the status of the workers that provide my meals, and in keeping myself to myself I manage to avoid any idle gossip.

So when the rallying cry of ‘Down with the Suppressor’ started echoing through the glens, I simply didn’t get it. What exactly was being suppressed? We are inches away from extinction in a scorching dust-ball, none of us are exactly living the high life. I guess some people feel that they are getting a raw deal… Sure, some people aren’t getting their two meals and water rations every day, but that’s just the reality of the situation. Plus, if they work hard enough they can elevate themselves! That’s what my grandfather did!

At least that is what I was brought up to believe. Now, with the wolves literally at the door, I’m not so certain. By trade it is my nature to question and to analyse the available facts, but what if the facts are misleading? The New Pretender believes that we have lost our way and reverted to old clichés of the rich hoarding for themselves and trickling their wealth down (apologies for the archaic metaphor, but even without money it still sort of works).

Yet I can’t help but feel that the alternative isn’t much better. The Battle of Lothian Tower back in September (circa.) was an unmitigated bloodbath – I mean for God’s sake the whole bloody building was razed to the ground! A fifty-floor superstructure, purpose built for providing living space for five thousand of the region’s workers. Gone in the blink of an eye! To make matters worse, any of the survivors who refused to join the cause were then summarily executed, their bodies used to ‘fertilise’ the dust-fields.

I think what disturbs me most are those who have actually embraced the New Pretender’s message. If the ideology was not pernicious enough, the actions of the followers send chills through my veins. The worst I witnessed in a group of subversive extremists in our own damned settlement just two days ago. Flushed out by the duty-casters, they were being loaded onto a cart for disposal. Across their bodies, carved in blood and tinted with solar-flare ink powder, heart-shaped symbols were mapped across their entire bodies in some kind of macabre infinity loop of flesh.

And now they are here.

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NAC Bio-Scholar’s Log #451220:1636

20th December 2145 (circa.) [Redacted]

We’ve been under siege for a few weeks now, we can’t get out even for food! Supplies were already running low this cycle, and morale is even lower. People are beginning to wonder whether or not we, unknowingly, were the bad guys all along. Maybe. Maybe there is no right and wrong side, now. Maybe there never was. All we have is those who survive and those who die.

I guess we fall into the latter… I fall into the latter…

First time they came to the Glashu Settlement we did not take them seriously. The second time we were more cautious but still assumed that they’d destroy themselves soon enough and we could breathe easy. By the third time we realised the totality of our mistake.

When the army appeared at the gates, we were scared.

The first we heard was the gentle knock of an envoy. He was sent to inquire whether or not we were willing to surrender. We weren’t, apparently. Now there’s a persistent thumping against the walls. They have commandeered some of the old farming tech from beneath the sands and turned it into damned war machines. They could get through easily, I reckon, but psychological warfare is more fun.

It won’t be long now I don’t think.

Fuck.

Buggery fuck.

This log has been my last vain attempt for my life to mean something in a dying world. My whole life has been building to what? A senseless slaughter at the hands of Northern slaughter-junkies who are led by a mad King who, while most definitely insane, might actually have a valid point?!

Tell you what, if you are reading this then do me a favour… Burn it. Take my words, incinerate them and erase me from existence. I doubt anyone will believe me anyway. History is written by the victors, and we clearly aren’t that. So destroy it, destroy me and live your life as best we can.

That’s all we can do.

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Priority 1 Communique - New Year (circa.) January First (circa.) 2200 (circa.)

Subject: Archive Catalogue #NAC.881.335

Content: Bio-Scholar log discovered in remains.

Marked: Posterity.

Objective: Memory.

Storage: Shattered Heart Catacombs.

DO NOT DISTRIBUTE.

All Hail the Suppressor. All Hail the NAC.