(STRATEGIC SIMULATIONS INC.)
1. Excerpts from the GUB Journal, Final Updated Edition.
December 31, 1999.
The days tick away and Christmas is past. I fear that none of us
will survive another year in this dead place. Some of the volunteers
who are sent up to approach those gang leaders managing to gain
control over several cities simply disappear forever; others come back
without succeeding. Only twice has the password been given to a
leader, and both times these were heard of no more. My men and I will
try to hang on for as long as we can, but many dangers exist and the
hope for a new century diminishes. All we can do now is wait.
February 13, 2000. Maybe we have a chance. One of my men spotted
a leader whose gang was in control of eight cities; he was given the
password. Later this man used it, thus getting our address. Conditions
in the north of the land have slowed him up significantly; also I hear
he's been very close to being defeated by a concurring road gang and
has decided that an increase of tactical insight is needed so he may
effectively control more vehicles.
September 1, 2000
Helgron has our only radio. If he doesn't return with the last
two agents, our chances at success are close to nil. Some of my staff
feel that I've made a mistake in trusting a non-conformist like
Helgron; others agree that he's our only chance - and that the very
extremity of his character may well be his greatest asset. But our
time's running out; if we don't hear from him very soon, it will be
too late to save this diseased, mutated, starving country.
October 27, 2000
He did it. Today Helgron returned with our last missing agent -
and now we can start healing the state. He doesn't know it yet, but as
of tomorrow our country will once more have a leader: Jonathan T.
Helgron, President of the United States of America.
GUB director Herrell
2. Excerpts taken from the Report as presented by the C.O.T.
For months I had lived as a healer. Ever since the invasion
health conditions in our city had grown worse. Our hospitals were all
destroyed; only some of the basements and laboratories in the outer
perimeter had been partially preserved. After weeks and weeks of
gathering all the working equipment we could find, aided in our
efforts by the Guardsmen (ours had not left the path of justice), we
managed to establish some improvised clinics.
But more and more people died of this strange disease, and as the
mutants proliferated, we desperately tried to find ways to make an
antidote. It took us a long time, but finally, in the winter of 1999,
we came up with a reliable antitoxin. Making this antitoxin requires
great amounts of chemicals, and as we lack the means to make some of
the ingredients necessary, we can only fabricate the antitoxin when we
get our hands on adequate other medicine.
Then, halfway through April in 2000, our town was visited by one
of the many roadgangs that roam the streets more and more frequently.
But where some gangs persist in looting and destroying all they can,
these people were sufficiently polite to send envoys, scouting the
city. One of the patrolmen told them how things stood, and this seemed
to satisfy them - they said they'd leave the city as soon as they'd
found some people to take the places of those who had died of the
disease. That night I talked with my collegues, and although some
called it insane, I decided to help these people, to see what I could
do to heal their ill (or keep them from contracting diseases) and to
aid them in their quest for G.U.B. agents.
In the morning of April 18 in the year 2000 I joined Helgron's
Rebecca Laramie, MD.
Training is essential. If you can't convince whoever's in charge
of running things of the fact that, without training, there's no
military basis (let alone prowess), then you know you're on the losing
side. Which is the wrong side in any ol' war, from my point of view.
The Muthuh Truckers certainly weren't the best outfit in the
country - but at least they had the common sense to pay attention to
battle techniques, as well as an extensive knowledge of sound
engineering. Their cars were always rolling, most of them
substantially altered with regard to engine capacity, maneuvrability
and protection. Also they took a lot of time looting cities, trying to
find speed shops and such. Of course, a sound engine is no good if the
man operating it is an undisciplined over-the-edge egg-head. Which
leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that the Muthuh's organisation
held room for improvement.
One day in May, we were on the road in the West Central when we
ran into this group of six vehicles. Unlike our own team, whose leader
insisted on uniformity and therefore used the same type of vehicle for
everyone, this road gang had anything from a sportscar to busses -
even a trailer truck. And while the Muthuh's laughed at what they
called "a circus parade", our enemy took its positions.
Before Big Red Ralph could shout his battle cry, I warned him
that these guys were not, by the looks of their positions and division
of personnel, amateurs. But Big Red simply ignored me, laughed, and
yelled, "Clearrrrr.... the ROAD!" - and all Muthuh trucks attacked. We
lost the battle in no time flat - and our adversaries did not merely
ram us; when it became clear that we were losing, their chief gave the
order to start boarding our vehicles, keeping them in one piece.
Theirs was a smart leader.
The Muthuh's fought to the last man and lost. Me, I'm a
professional - when our cause was lost, I surrendered. And seeing that
a military man without an outfit is just so much wasted space, I
offered them my services. Their man Helgron accepted me, and for the
first time in my post-war career I had the idea I'd joined a group
worthy of loyalty. Soon after that, I began training their members and
improving upon their car battle techniques.
Commander Raul Villiers
Everybody knows there are many kinds of politicians. Some of them
are merely slick, others lack integrity, still others are led by
ambition only. Perhaps most of us are weak, but surely we are all
human. When I joined J.T. Helgron's freedom fighters they were just
about to rid themselves of a man called Geoffrey Mulligan, a
politician of the kind that might be called "slick". His services had
not been satisfactory to the group, and when I offered them my own it
didn't take very long before Mulligan was retired and I became
P.R.-representative and spokeswoman for the group.
As anyone with a tinge of perception could see, J.T. Helgron had
the makings of a winner. Not only did he have those qualities that we
look for in a leader, he also had the backup of a great team - a loyal
military advisor, a competent physician, and a well-trained
well-equipped resistance force. As advisor to the Chief, my first and
most important job was establishing and maintaining contact with other
groups of people - whether the individual neighbor or large gangs of
mobs, mercenaries, street gangsters, rabble or needy individuals; I
was the one called on first. Then, if my negotiations were either
unsuccessful or just not the right method, and contact was still
required, Helgron would send envoys. Usually, this would mean a couple
of armsmasters and some bodyguards; sometimes he would send escorts as
well. I'm glad to say that in my time as go-between I managed to make
quite a few contacts that worked satisfactory for both sides. The
Secretary of State, Paula Jackson.
3. Helgron's Highway Hoppers
As a combined university graduate and ex-convict you can get to
know a lot of different people. After disaster struck our country,
most of my friends were dead or gone - and the ability to make social
contacts and finding the right people for the right jobs became
essential to the survival of our community. I was not exactly elected
mayor of the city (it was more like an appointment if anything), but
the effect might have been the same. I spend several months rallying
all women, men and equipment that could be used for building a new
society - in the meantime expecting news from either our government,
or the invaders. But half a year passed and there was still no sign of
anyone taking control - all I received were unconfirmed reports about
cities being taken over by gangsters, invaders or satanists, and the
land terrorized by motorgangs.
Two more months I waited before I came to realise that the
growing threats from outside and the increasing disease-spreading
mutants inside our city were going to kill us all unless something was
done about it. So I took the initiave, asked for volunteers and
started an entirely new road gang, intended to link rather than
separate our nation's cities, under the name of Helgron's Highway
Hoppers. We started off with no more than a sports car hard top, six
men including myself, and a very limited storage of supplies.
The first thing I learned was that one vehicle wasn't going to
make us a formidable road force. So we skimmed the city of some of its
surplus ironware and put together a six-vehicle fighting force - not
more because it was hard enough feeding the people needed to man the
cars and also I was aware of the fact that I needed much more
experience in battle contacts before I'd be able to efficiently hold
command over a larger number of vehicles.
I was careful not to take too many small vehicles, but also not
just busses (good for shooting) or trailer trucks (great for ramming)
because chances were that people would outmaneuver us. When all was
ready, I decided to move up to New York, to see if there was any such
thing left as the United Nations Headquarters. From there on, we'd
drive through the Northeast into North Central, hoping that cities
such as Pittsburgh, Indianapolis and, of course, Detroit would harbor
possibilities to enhance our mechanics.
Moving from city to city looked easy enough on the maps but
turned out to be quite a problem in reality. Some of the multitude of
road gangs we ran into minded their own business and steered clear
from us, but the vast majority of wheelers declared us easy prey and