NEWCOMERS IN NEWCRESTPrologue“Attention, simlings! I, Zargon, have come to liberate your planet from the oppression you have imposed upon it. My occupation will be peaceful provided that you cooperate. But go ahead and rebel if you like. In fact, there is nothing I should enjoy more than squashing your puny attempts at resistance.”
Her laughter rang out across the empty lots of Newcrest. Aniara Zargon began the task of turning her wrecked rocket into a habitation. Her name was really just Zargon, but the form that she’d been required to fill out had insisted upon two names. She’d used the name of her ship for one of the blanks. Aniara considered the form to be yet another instance of oppression. She missed the ship and would have to build a new one as soon as she had the funds for it.
The first decision she had to make was whether to assume a disguise while going about the business of acquiring the planet. Aniara scorned the whole idea of disguise. She and her descendants would appear in all their glory. And if the simlings found it frightening, so much the better. Perhaps they would learn how to travel through space themselves and just leave.
One thing she didn’t like about this place — Newcrest, they called it — the atmosphere did strange things to her physiology. She found herself getting tired more quickly, and she seemed to exude more sweat, requiring more frequent washing. Worse, though, was the effect upon her digestion. She had to eat more, and the more she ate, the more often she had to rid herself of waste products — which also required washing. Luckily there were measures she could take to counteract the atmosphere, but they would take time to develop. Unfortunately, her descendants would not inherit her abilities — they would have to create their own counteractives themselves.
Food wasn't the same here. Yes, she could catch frogs.
But despite all her efforts to make them fit for Zargon consumption...
...they just didn't taste very good.
And speaking of descendants — well, she would have to find a suitable mate. There were undercover operatives in nearby towns; she would just have to find someone. As long as it wasn’t an Oirat, she would be satisfied. The Oirats were the ancient enemies of the Zargons. Indeed, it was the encroachment of the Oirats that necessitated her colonization of Newcrest. Luckily, they were easy to identify — their skin was a sickly hue, the color of grass.
But before finding a mate, Aniara needed a source of income. The materials for building a rocket ship did not come cheaply, and here in Newcrest they used simoleons. The undercover operatives had supplied her with some funds, but they would not be sufficient to keep her going long. Aniara had gotten high marks in Propaganda Dissemination at the Academy, and she was able to find a similar job on the computer as a writer. This required reading some of the simlings’ propaganda, but she didn’t mind that — in fact, the simlings had rather an interesting history, if the story of Lucas Dark was any indication.
She used some of her funds to buy a desk and a computer and began working on her first piece of propaganda — Zargons Don’t Take Naps. It was intended for the simlings’ spawn, to acquaint them with the nature of their new rulers and eventual supplanters. She chuckled to herself — the delightful irony was that the simlings themselves not only spread the propaganda themselves, but actually gave her simoleons for it.
Propaganda dissemination was not much fun, though. She had a small communicator, but that could only pick up simling signals. She would have to buy a more powerful model if she wanted to get news of the war on Sixam.
She did get a yoga mat. Propaganda dissemination might exercise the brain, but the only muscles that it used were those in the fingers. And eating more meant a greater likelihood that she would put on weight.
One day, Aniara noticed that a simling had entered her territory. There was nothing unusual about this: simlings walked or ran through Newcrest all the time. But this simling paused without any reason for stopping, and she looked as if she might be considering building on a lot.
Fortunately for the simling, she disappeared before Aniara had to take steps to clear her away.
A day later, though, Aniara awoke to find a new house in the distance. She hurried over to see what was happening.
As soon as she introduced herself, she realized that the newest inhabitant was a dreaded Oirat. He didn't even have the courage to appear as himself but had assumed a disguise so as to infiltrate the neighborhood more easily.
Aniara tried to blast the Oirat into his component molecules, but her command failed to work.
"I can't blast you, either," the Oirat said. "We'll just have to figure out some other way to establish who gets this territory."
"I was here first," Aniara declared furiously.
"Not good enough," said the Oirat. "There's plenty of room left over. How about this for our terms of engagement?" He wrote quickly and assuredly.
Aniara squinted at the tablet he handed her. "How did you come up with this so quickly?" she asked suspiciously.
"I was prepared," said the Oirat. "It was pretty obvious that your house didn't belong to one of the simlings, and I knew you weren't another Oirat." He smiled at her kindly and yes, smugly. "You see, there are times when a little dissimulation is useful."
"Oh, very well," Aniara said crossly. "I agree to the terms."
(The "terms" of their agreement can be found
here.)
After she left, Lukas Oirat did some yoga to clear his mind.
It was irritating – more than irritating, infuriating, actually – that the Zargon should have shown up so quickly. Still, Lukas had no doubt that he would be better at adapting to this new planet than she would. He had already developed a taste for the food. And he was sure that it would taste even better when he could use the produce from his garden.
And since ultimate conquest depended on the speed with which he and his heirs could complete their tasks, Lukas knew that he had an ace up his sleeve – by chance, he had met a Cheung at work, The Cheungs were neutrals in the war between the Zargons and the Oirats, but an individual Cheung could easily be made an ally.
After a propitiatory gift and gesture...
Lukas ratified the alliance. He had learned from their literature that the simlings often performed such ceremonies in the small enclosed space of a bathroom. It seemed like an odd choice to him, but when in Rome, etc.
His wife Tianna was pregnant already. Within a few short generations, Lukas knew that the Oirats would win the planet.
***
Meanwhile, above a newly built store in Willow Creek, Dahlia Baird was contemplating her vision of the future – a Baird retail empire with each of her descendants living the good life on one of the plots in Newcrest. She was starting small – she didn't even have a house yet – but Dahlia knew that one day every sim would buy everything at Baird's.
Note: Many thanks to HelenP for Aniara Zargon's house and to Playalot for the one belonging to Lukas Oirat!
